#which really comes in handy when you need someone disposed of

[darkpoisonouslove]

I have more thoughts but I don't feel like they're important enough to make posts about them.

[megu-meow]

take my breath - sukuna

Part 4 of my Hockey Player Sukuna Series - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Lmk if you want to be added to the tag list! :D

This part is shit, I'm sorry. After TTPD I found myself unable to write fluff, but I've kept people waiting, so I had to force myself to write this.

When Sukuna says soon, he means the next Thursday. He calls you on Wednesday after practice to ask you formally whether you could keep your schedule open for the next evening and you agree, because you have been waiting for your date for a few days now. However, you find yourself frustratedly trying on every piece of clothing you own, being indecisive about what to wear. You want to look good for him, because as you shyly admitted to your brother, you really like Sukuna. He's rough around the edges, but he seems like a good guy, unlike all the other people you've dated before. You contemplate calling one of the girls, but Senna and Akane love to gossip, and for the time being, you'd like to keep this little date with Sukuna a secret. So you call the only person you can trust in this situation.

Sophia arrives ten minutes after calling her saying you need help getting dressed for a date. She's the only one of the girls who knows that you have something going on with Sukuna, it makes total sense to reach out to her in your current circumstance. You already made her swear on your brother's life that she's not going to say anything about it to the girls, so you're safe in that regard. Plus, she has a keen sense of style, which comes in handy considering you want to impress the pink-haired centerman with your looks. You noticed already how many pretty girls were wearing his jersey to games, you know that he could have any of them at his disposal in a second. It still seems sketchy that he became so fond of you in such a short period of time, but you're not complaining.

"He was so nervous when I left, Kento thought he was going to explode." Sophia says as you try to put socks on, balancing on one foot.

"Who was?" you look at her and you nearly kiss the ground, regaining your balance at the last second.

"Sukuna, of course. He's been pacing around the apartment like a maniac all day."

"Really?" you ask timidly.

"Yeah. Kento said he had never seen him so stressed." for some reason hearing this makes you smile and your heart warm. Sukuna doesn't strike you as someone who would be nervous about dates, but you already learned not to assume anything about him, because he always surprises you with the way he acts.

"I'm kinda nervous too. I want this to go well." you explain and you try to put your earrings in. As you look at yourself in the mirror, wearing the outfit your sister-in-law put together, you're content with your reflection. You look amazing and you feel confident in the pieces you're wearing. Your makeup and hair are done in your usual way, you don't want to look like a completely different person. Apparently, Sukuna agrees that you look good. Because the moment you open your door for him, he freezes in place, with his eyes wide and glimmering. For a second you think something is wrong, but those thoughts are quickly dismissed as he speaks.

"You look beautiful, y/n." he states, his voice softer than you've ever heard. He is wearing a burgundy suit, one that complements his skin tone. His hair is sleeked back, but it still looks effortless in a way. You can smell his usual cologne, the musky scent that lingers. It suits him.

"Says you, handsome." you compliment him back and you swear a blush appears on his cheek. Suddenly, he remembers something, and he gives you the flowers he was hiding behind his back all this time. "Thank you! What happened to all flowers are stupid?" you ask as you smell the peonies in your hand.

"Well I got you some sunflowers, but your brother told me I was insane, so he dragged me to a florist to get 'ones that girls actually like'." he explains.

"He's right, you know? You made me wait four days for this date, the least you can do is give me some girly flowers." you joke and he rolls his eyes. Nonetheless, he reaches out for your hand. You slip it in his palm, which is calloused from holding a hockey stick most hours of a day, but very warm.

"Listen, woman, I made you wait because I wanted to take you to a 3 Michelin Star restaurant that specializes in your favorite food." he explains as he opens the door of his car for you to hop in.

"What?" you ask in shock before he closes the door after you. He leans down, looking into your eyes with a smirk across his face.

"You heard me, y/n. Now, don't be so shocked, I told you I would go all out for our date."

"You didn't have to though. You could have taken me to a hole-in-the-wall ramen place and I would have liked it." you say, slightly feeling bad "How did you manage to get a table anyway? These places are booked months ahead."

"The owner is a huge Wizards fan and apparently I'm his kid's favorite player. I had the team sign a jersey and got them season tickets, so they were glad to do me a small favor in return." he explains like it is nothing, but it means the world to you. No one has ever done something so grand for a date with you. It makes your heartbeat go nuts and you can't help but stare at him as he drives. You observe his tattooed hand that is on the armrest, shaking slightly. You smile and instinctively take it in yours, laying your intertwined hands in your lap. He turns his head towards you in shock, but he quickly looks back to the road. The blush from before returns, even his neck turns pink, and you smile, adoring his reactions.

The dinner goes by fast, despite lasting for hours. The food is exquisite, as expected. Most importantly, there's not one dull moment. You and Sukuna talk like you've known each other your whole lives. He asks about your interests, what you like to do in your free time, where you went to school, and about your friends. He seems interested in everything you talk about, he listens with an intensity you find rare. He drinks up every single word that leaves your mouth, he asks questions, and he's genuinely curious about how you perceive the world. You ask him plenty of questions yourself and he answers them gladly. He seems very fond of his brothers, he shows you pictures of them and you observe how Yuji has the same color hair as him and Choso has a very similar line tattooed on his nose as Sukuna's.

"They're coming to town soon, by the way." he comments and your eyes light up.

"How come?"

"It's Yuji's draft year and it's held here in Tokyo. Choso just tags along because he clings to that brat like a leech."

"That's so rude!" you exclaim, but you're smiling. You're aware that Sukuna probably shows his love towards his brothers a little bit peculiarly.

"Well, it's true."

"Do you see a chance of Yuji being drafted by the wizards?" you ask.

"Not really. He is prospected to be in the top three of the draft and we are clinching the playoffs this next game as number one in the league. We probably won't have a pick in the top ten."

"I'm sorry to hear that. It would have been cool for him to have you on the team he's drafted to."

"I don't think so. If I'm being honest, I'm glad there is little to no chance for that to happen as of now."

"Why is that?"

"He won't have a target on his back. Otherwise, people would be mean to him and would rough him up with the sole purpose of pissing me off. This way he can become a professional player without being concussed every game."

"You're very protective of your brothers, huh?" you ask and he smiles.

"You could say that." he smirks "I'm protective of everything I own, you know." he adds looking into your eyes deeply. You know there is a deeper meaning behind his words. He's implying that he would be just as safeguarding about you if you were his girlfriend. You find it hard to believe that a guy like him exists. He is so charming but respectful. He is attentive, you mentioned one time what your favorite food was and he remembered, moreover, he went out of his way to get you the best version available of it.

"Where were you my whole life?" you ask, not realizing that you blurted out your thoughts just like that. You feel embarrassed as your hands fly to your runny mouth, covering it. However, Sukuna just laughs. He rarely laughs like this. It comes deep from within, the type that shakes your whole body and you're sure you're red like a lobster as you observe him.

"Sweetheart, I've been asking that question about you since December." he answers, his charming smile never fading.

"December?" you question.

"Oh, I thought your brother told you about that too." he seems shocked, but he continues "I've spotted you in the crowd at the Family Game in Kyoto. I was mesmerized, I even ran into one of my teammates on accident, I was too preoccupied with looking at the angel in the Wizards jersey."

"Oh, I remember that. I was laughing about that with Akane." you recall and Sukuna frowns "So you've had your eyes sat on me since then?"

"Well, I didn't know I was going to meet you on my first day in Tokyo while I was shirtless, but destiny has its way, I guess."

"You believe we were destined to meet?"

"I told you before, sweetheart, I am superstitious. Take that as you want, but I do think we are here having dinner for a reason." he explains.

Your date ends when the restaurant staff asks you nicely to leave because they've been closed for two hours already. You didn't even realize that all the other customers had left and the staff was ready to close. Sukuna pays for the bill and he sends you a death glare when you offer to pay for your part. "Woman, you won't have to pay for anything while you are out with me." he states, irritation evident in his tone. He also drives you home and walks you to your door. You're wearing his suit jacket, because you were a bit cold, although he turned the heater on in the car.

"Thank you for tonight! I had a lot of fun." you smile up at him, as you're trying to say goodbye on your doorstep.

"There is nothing to be thankful for, you got what you deserve, princess." he says and he seems a little bit disappointed, but you're not able to determine why. Maybe the date didn't go as well in his perspective as you thought.

"Is something wrong? Did I say something to offend you?" you ask in panic and he quickly shakes his head, dismissing it. Suddenly the redness returns to hiss tattooed cheeks and he suddenly seems nervous.

"I just thought I deserved a kiss after that." he whispers shyly, his face down, gaze locked on the tip of his shoes.

It's your turn to laugh at his awkwardness, but you still cup his cheeks in your hands and pull him in for a kiss. You don't quite understand where all this fearlessness came into you from, but you're glad it did because the kiss is magical. It's soft but eager and you can feel him smiling into it as his large hands find their destined spot in your hips. You're the one to break the kiss, but Sukuna pulls you in closer, resting his forehead on yours, and looking deeply into your eyes. His smile reaches his ears and he whispers to you softly:

"I hate to break it to you princess, but I don't think I can go on with my life without doing that every day."

You smile, and respond with a smile just as wide as his "Good, because I don't think I can either."

The next day is game day and you arrive at your brother's apartment beforehand. You usually drive with them to the arena. Sukuna emerges from his room in his game-day suit, his eyes glowing up the moment he sees you there.

"We're gonna be down at the car, Bambi." Sophia says as she and Kento leave in a hurry.

Sukuna steps closer to you, embracing you, his muscular arms around your shoulders.

"Hello, princess! How are you?"

"I'm great, Sukuna. Thank you for asking! How are you?"

"Better now that I know you're coming to the game to cheer me on." you smile, stepping away from the embrace, and you look into his eyes. "Are you gonna give me a good luck kiss or what?"

You're surprised by his boldness, but you leave a peck on his lips nonetheless.

"If I do good today, you're gonna have to do that before every game." he states.

"Alright. You've got yourself a deal." you smile and you urge him out the door, before your brother and his wife could start thinking that you're doing something inappropriate in their home.

Good does not describe the way Sukuna plays that night. He has one of the best games of his life and after the first goal, as his celebration, he looks towards where you're standing and points at you with a wide smile on his face. This is your sign that from now on, you're gonna have to keep your promise of giving him a good luck kiss before every game.

🩵 Tag list: @ichorstainedskin @ureuphoriasworld @new-weather47 @deepchromatose @cvr2mya @janrcrosssing @bakuhoes-bxtch @deluluforcarlos55 @stainednailpolishremover @thejujvtsupost @bleachisfood @dorck26 @chilichopsticks @when-worlds-end 🩵

[pasiphile]

Psst... based on the research you did, is there anything reliable you can tell us about personality and how it works?

Gladly!

The current commonly accepted personality model is generally referred to as the Big Five, and it's relatively rare in that it's as close as a consensus as you can reach in psychology. There have been tonnes of research that keep turning up the same general results. Research across cultures, with babies, with animals, self reported questionnaires versus descriptions, open ended versus multiple choice questions, relationships with biomarkers... Obviously they're not all exactly identical, because psychology is not an Exact science, but the results are always similar enough that as far as models go, it's about as solid as you can get.

So, what is this model? It very simply says that there are five big, independent character traits that people can vary in, easily remembered by the handy acronym OCEAN :

- openness to experience : how curious you are, how interested you are in culture and how much imagination you have versus how much you prefer to concentrate on practical things and how conservative you are (in the non-political meaning of the word)

- conscientiousness: how much do you care about efficiency, accuracy and being on time, versus how sloppy or disorganised you are.

- extraversion: you know this one. How much do you like/need interaction with other people.

- agreability: how nice you are. Are you generally well-disposed towards people or are you more distrustful?

- neuroticism: are you a big worrier or are you more laidback?

Now, all of these are phrased like it's a choice between two options, but what the Big Five model also keeps turning up is that these five are a spectrum, with a large majority of people being sort of in the middle. Most people dislike being alone all day but also get tired from being in big groups for a long time. Most people worry about bigger, important things but less about smaller things. Most people want to be accurate and careful in general but don't mind being a bit more sloppy when it matters less to them. In statistical terms, they all follow a gauss curve, which looks like this (with the vertical axis being the amount of people and the horizontal one the score out of ten you would get on a questionnaire) :

Which means that if you take a group of random 100 people, only a handful will be on the extremes of the spectrum (the party animal versus the recluse) while 60 to 70 people will have no real, strong preferences either way.

And that's why personality models that want to divide people up into distinct groups are, objectively, wrong. The differences between someone who scores 49 and someone who scores 51 on an extraversion scale are minimal, but those personality type theories will have you believe those two are radically different people. One of the major issues with the MBTI is, in fact, that a lot of people keep getting different results if they retake the test a few weeks or months later, exactly because of this reason : if you're an average scorer (and again, most people are), choosing between two extremes makes no sense and you're basically assigned a type at random.

The Big Five is by no means a perfect model. There's doubt whether it can really be applied that easily to non-western cultures. The interaction with mental health and neurodivergence is still unclear (are people with anxiety just extremely high on the neuroticism scale, or is anxiety a separate thing that influences the results?). But it's been replicated enough that the core of it is, at this point beyond doubt. Meanwhile the MBTI, Insights Discovery, Kolb's learning styles and all those other "you're either type A or type B" models that are rife in the business world are scientifically bullshit.

Personality doesn't come in types. Personality is a spectrum, with a few people in the extremes but the majority somewhere in the middle.  And ignoring that in favour of putting people in neat but inaccurate boxes is very dangerous.

[omkarmeds]

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What People With CF Need to Know About a Mucus Suction Machine?

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[currently-haunted]

Kinda working on an au cuz i keep procrastinating on animatic and my life...

Tap for better quality, and some details of au are under the cut (just me rumbling my ideas)

Hunter is not a grimwalker here (still no magic)

He comes from family of wild witches, who were disposed of by belos's orders. But he as a kid got saved by the previous golden guard

Stuff happened, belos had another episode of cain's syndrome, no gg again

I haven't decided yet how hunter was taken in by emperor or even if hunter is his real name, but he still becomes gg later and there's no new grimwalker, for now... (let's say belos couldn't find some ingredients)

Darius here is on full dad mode already from time he knew his mentor rescued some kind against orders

However Hunter is so reckless and not so loyal, when he finally finds out bits of truth about his family, belos and gg (from darius... maybe lilith? I haven't really thought about her role) well, the boy is ready to oppose belos

Oh yea belos did make hunter do dirty job like getting rid of... rebelious witches. Yep, not only palismen suffer here by getting their souls eaten (but no belos doesn't eat witches... that would be too much...)

Good thing later (after several mental breakdowns) it comes in handy, like emperor himself points out great additions to the opposition you just need to fake some deaths

Also good news is that belos doesn't see hunter here as "a tryout for better version of his brother who inevitably will betray him or smth", right? Belos is still horrible to him tho. Difference is that Hunter isn't so isolated and has experience with normal human witch interactions, but no worries he is still traumatized cuz that was in no way a healthy environment for child or teen, or anybody really

Oh btw for this job hunter uses mask (grim) made by abomination magic (taught to him by coven head himself with the help of his stuff at first, later flapjack).

I want to give him a dog. Or at least something close to a dog. Wait how did you guess i'm a dog person? Anyway, he calls himself Grim, because y'know demon which appears as ghosty black hound and pordends death

It's 4 am for me when i'm writing this btw

Collector prob knows that hunter is against belos here but they think it's too entertaining so they don't tell him (i mean i love watching my friends trying to figure stuff out it's probably the same). Idk about this

No ships planned except canon ones, actually most events happen like in canon but hunter meets flapjack earlier, and resistance is pretty huge already but they're laying low, okay all episodes with hunter diverge, like hunting palismen, eclipse lake, any sport in the storm and hollow mind

Yep, sibling dynamic with luz, frienemies with amity (but less angst cuz eclipse lake went different) , friends with willow, gus, skara and viney, prank buddies with twins. Grim! Hunter actually trusts owl house residents except hooty, and knows them better, but he just can't leave the emperor's coven yet because plans

Of course he fucks up somewhere and now belos suspects him. Then hollow mind happens. And if there's nothing to lose it's a great opportunity to mess with emperor's mind from inside. Hunter almost dies in the process because of course he does. That's actually the main point of this au. How much you can hurt someone in their mindspace. (The second point is wordplay on grim/grimm/grimwalker)

I really like how characters use their stuff to just attack physically like guys you can cast a fireball but you punch them with a stick? So hunter's artifical stuff also can become sharp, he deserves a knife

Fyi i came up with this au while listening to all eyes on you by smash into pieces

Basically i wanted sassy hunter with support system going against belos while giving him smth new.

[aggravatetheaxe]

Hi there! I was wondering if I could request an imagine where a victim “escapes” from the slashers and hurts s/o in the process. What would the slashers do during and after? Thank you!!

Hi! I wasn't sure which slashers you wanted for this, so I put my list into a randomizer and went with the first 5!

Walter Sullivan

Thomas Hewitt

Jason Voorhees

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Erik ("The Phantom")

SLASHERS WHOSE VICTIM HURTS THEIR S/O

cw: mentions of suicide, reader being injured/in mortal peril, mentions of torture and killing etc etc

--

Walter Sullivan

Oh no. Oh dear.

You are possibly the only good, pure thing in this world or the Otherworld and someone hurt you? Walter is ... not happy, to put it lightly. The only person who should ever hurt you is him, and he won't do that unless it's for your own good.

This only enforces his belief that the world and everyone in it are monstrous. It drives home the truth he's already convinced of - this existence in terrible and torturous and needs to be destroyed if anything holy is ever going to be allowed to blossom again.

Whether The Victim is pre- or post- Walter's suicide, he's already stopping at nothing to go after them. He doesn't view it as personal, he doesn't hold any particular hatred for most (most) of his victims; they're simply links in a chain. But this person, the one who hurt you ... it's personal. They'll die in absolute agony.

If the victim in question is pre-suicide, Walter will bring them down and find somewhere to keep them for later. This will not be a quick death.

While they're bound/gagged or knocked out, he'll check on you. You're special, possibly even the Mother Reborn, and he can't let you die until the time is right. If you're seriously injured, he'll see to it that you're taken to the hospital, and pray to a dead God if he has to that you'll be alright. If you're not seriously injured, he'll do his best to patch you up - he lived on the streets for many years and had to take care of himself, so he knows basic first aid.

Once he's certain you're safe, he will put you somewhere where you won't witness what he's about to do. Even if you want to see it, he'll insist you stay hidden, saying the sinner doesn't deserve to be in your presence. You'll have to really convince him if for some reason you want to watch.

Their torture will depend on what they did to you. If it was just a few scrapes and cuts, he'll let them feel every ounce of pain before they die. If they really hurt you, their torture will be prolonged. In his mind, and according to his religion, death is a sacred sacrament, and this evil being doesn't deserve its release. If they did something to seriously traumatize and/or sully you ... the crime scene he leaves behind is going to be grisly, to put it lightly.

If the victim in question is post-suicide, the results will be similar, but he has absolute control over the Otherworld - and he will utilize that. He will have his creations take care of you and keep you somewhere safe ... they may be terrifying, but they won't hurt you unless he wills it. As for the victim, he can twist them into their worst nightmares over and over again before killing them. He will make them see their wrongdoings and pay for their evil. They will beg for mercy and there will be none.

After it all, he will simply move onto the next one, with you somewhere safe ... until it's time. Until it's time. You are so perfect.

Thomas Hewitt

Dammit. If he'd just been quicker or smarter, he could have caught them before they escaped and hurt you. He immediately blames himself.

There's no time to beat himself up over it, though. He briefly checks to make sure you're not bleeding from anywhere vital and sends you (or locks you up) somewhere safe before going after the victim. You're on your own for first aid for now - unless you're literally dying, he can't let them leave the property.

If you are literally dying, he's staying and doing all he can to help you. But if Hoyt yells, he may have to pawn you off on someone else and hope they do a good job taking care of you. He'll hold your face and give you tender kisses goodbye - whether you want them or not - because this might be the last time he ever sees you.

He chases the victim in a fever, much more erratic than you would expect from him. He's faster, less careful, more inclined to put himself at risk just to get a swing in at them. It's not generally anything personal when he kills someone - it's something he does for the good of his family, and because he was told to. This one he's not interested in saving for meat. They hurt you. You, his special person. He's going to grind them into the mud, and he's not even going to let Hoyt have a go at them.

Sometimes, sometimes, he struggles to see the animals in his victims. But this one ... he doesn't even feel the urge to twist them into an animal. That's a whole human, an evil one, one he wants to kill. It's a different feeling for him.

Once it's all over and everything's calmed down, he's rushing directly to your side. People don't come around all too often, so he's comfortable putting down the chainsaw for now. He neglects any skin projects he planned and lets someone else do the butchering, focusing on taking care of you, especially if you're seriously injured and put up in bed.

If you're not as seriously injured and tell him you're fine, he's still keeping an eye on you ... and making sure you're well-fed. You've been through a lot and it was all his fault. He doesn't want you to be exposed like that again. Next time someone comes around, he'll insist you hide somewhere.

Jason Voorhees

It's a toss up whether or not he'll actually notice you're hurt. Not because he doesn't care or anything, but because Camp Crystal Lake is a lot of ground to cover and there's a low chance he'll be in the same area as you at any given time.

For this imagine, though, let's assume you've found your way to him or he's sensed you're in trouble and has rushed to you.

You were supposed to be safe in the cabin, so he's a little irritated that you wandered out, but that's completely overshadowed when he realizes you're hurt. He stops everything he's doing and clinically and thoroughly pats you down, identifying every solitary injury.

Just like his mother before him, he is a vengeful soul, so he is not letting this go even if you're just scraped or bruised. If you are critically injured, he'll at least get you to the cabin and get a tourniquet on you.

Otherwise, he leaves you behind. Not very mindful, but you should know that he wants you to get back to the cabin or at least stay out of the way. He is no longer thinking of you - he has established his target and knows what he has to do. He's laser focused and decisive as he stalks after them, using anything at his disposal to get to them.

Their death is quick - he doesn't play around - but he has a lingering sense of irony and playfulness. If there's a particularly interesting weapon nearby, he'll take them out with that; or perhaps he'll hurt them in the way they hurt you, just, you know ... more fatal. And a lot gorier.

After that, he'll move onto their friends, until every last one is dead. Once his objective is completed, he is returning to you directly and finishing the job of patching you up.

He can't help but feel a little guilty that you were hurt. You shouldn't have left the cabin, true, but perhaps he should have been watching for you. He should have locked you up. Pamela might say rude things in his head. Then again, she might comfort him. If she doesn't like you, maybe she'll even wish he'd left you to die.

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Well ... you usually keep him around to scare off other Ghostfaces - something he's very handy at - but you don't usually run into trouble with his victims.

He doesn't really tell you to go anywhere in particular when he's killing. He knows you can take care of yourself. But now he feels stupid for not having a backup plan. Of course some asshole was gonna eventually identify you as his loved one and try to get cute. He should've had something prepared for that.

But, if he's good at anything, it's improvising. He skids into whatever room you're in, drops his weapon, and pulls his mask off right away to check you over. If you're only mildly injured, he's visibly relieved, and tells you to stay put while he deals with whomever hurt you. If you're more seriously injured, he'll grab your phone and shove it in your hand. "Get in the car, get the fuck out of here. Drive to the emergency room if you have to, just leave."

If you're unable to drive, he'll make you call emergency services - or call them for you, if he has to. The game is over, he's done playing; this isn't fun if he's not winning. Everyone in this place is gonna be dead and he'll be long gone by the time the ambulance shows up for you.

The one who hurt you is going to get an extra special surprise. A particularly grisly death, and a bunch of selfies/short videos of Ghostface with the corpse - taken with the victim's own phone, posted to their instagram, tiktok, facebook, sent to any discord groups, and any other social media they have. If he has the time, he'll even make them in meme formats (definitely posting with meme captions, the fucking troll). He'll probably send a copy to you as a "hey, look what I did!"

If there are survivors, especially if that survivor is the one who hurt you, you better believe he is immediately doxxing them. Since he's had a little time to cool down, he might even play the long game, maybe catfishing and blackmailing them. Ruining their pathetic little life even further would be pretty fun. In the end, though, they'll die like all the others.

When all is said and done, he's going to be there for you, helping you recover any way he can. He'd suggest rest (for an amount of time relative to your injury), some movies and candy, maybe some video games. And time spent with your favorite Ghostface, of course, right?

He'll never forget what happened, though. Even though the person is dead, he'll be stewing and pissed off about it for a long, long time. And he won't let something like that happen again, or at least, not without a contingency plan in place.

The hash mark/tally mark he stitches into his costume to symbolize this kill is gonna be twice as long and large as the others, maybe in the place you got hurt as a reminder.

Erik

You already know what's about to happen.

If anyone so much as hurts your feelings they're getting menaced and receiving a strongly worded letter - actually physically harming you? That's suicide.

If he can't immediately kill this person, or if you're seriously injured, his primary objective is helping/comforting you. He has to push down a lot of wrath to do it ... every instinct tells him to immediately dispatch the fiend responsible ... but you are more important to him than anything in this world, even revenge. He will administer any first aid you need and may even drug you with ether to ensure you rest.

Don't think that means your attacker is off the hook, though. As soon as he decides you're well enough, he will put you somewhere safe - lock you away if he has to - and kill them. His preferred method is the Punjab lasso, but if they did something particularly egregious, he'll knock them out and take them to his torture chamber. They have a lesson to learn before they go to Hades.

Another option is, like Deacon, playing the long game ... playing with his food, stalking them, making them live in fear before they die. But he has a lot of wrath in that skinny little body, so it's a toss up as to whether or not he'll actually be able to follow through with that for very long. It depends on his mood, really!

He will keep the killing and torture hidden from you, of course ... unless you express an interest in seeing the vengeance being carried out. He would be worried for you, however, and advise against it. Those sights are not for the faint of heart, and certainly not for someone as beautiful and good as you.

Once all is said and done, it's as if it never happened. As if that person never existed! What a happy thought! Sometimes you even think Erik has completely forgotten the incident ... until he's stalking another victim and he locks you away again, and you remember you are always on his mind. He will never, never let that happen to you again.

[sunmoonandeddie]

feelings are fatal (17/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 3,346

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, violence, creepy men

masterlist

a/n: HEYYYYY HAPPY TWO YEAR BLOG BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!

Bucky’s heart was pounding as he finally shook the last of the Hydra goons that had been chasing him, glancing every which way just to double check.

He didn’t feel good about this.

It hadn’t even been ten minutes since the two of you had gotten separated, and he hated it. Granted, he always hated being away from you, had since you were fifteen.

Back then it was because he didn’t trust the Red Room instructors. Now it was because he was in love with you and being away from you made him feel like a part of his heart was missing.

Speed walking towards the entrance of Coney Island, he dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed Pepper’s number.

“Oh, my god, thank god. What the hell is wrong with you?” Pepper demanded angrily of him. “Do neither of you know how to answer your phones? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He could hear his blood pumping in his ears. “We had to separate so I could try to lead the bad guys away, but they just… disappeared. I’m heading for our meeting spot now.”

Morgan and a few other kids were babbling in the background about how their day had gotten cut short, but he knew that the littlest Stark would understand better than anyone else once they explained to her.

Pepper was suspiciously quiet for… a long time. A long, long time.

“Pepper?” Bucky whispered, his voice cracking.

There was an unspoken question between them.

What if he’d fucked up?

Should he have stayed with her?

What if they’d gotten to her?

And one that was looming over his head, heavier than ever.

What if he never got to tell you how he felt?

“I’m here,” she said reassuringly.

“What if…” Bucky’s heart cracked inside of his chest. His throat was closing up with each passing second, his flesh palm sweaty. Keeping his grip on his cell phone was becoming a challenge. “What if I n-never g-get to tell her h-how I feel?”

“Don’t think like that.”

“God, I’m so fucking stupid,” he cursed as he made his way to the aquarium. His eyes flickered around the crowd, almost hoping he’d see the two women from earlier. They would’ve recognized you and might’ve seen you.

But there was no sign of them.

“Those fucking special skills or whatever would really come in fucking handy right now,” he cursed. With the way people were parting like the Red Sea in front of him, he knew he probably had his less-than-friendly expression on.

His Murder Face, as you called it.

Or his Resting Bitch Face, according to Sam.

Bucky ran his vibranium hand over his face as he tried not to panic. For one, he hadn’t even gotten to the meeting spot yet. Most likely, you were there waiting for him and he was worrying over nothing. “Tony and Natasha will haunt me forever if I let something happen to her.”

A sigh resounded over the phone. “You didn’t let something happen to her, Bucky. Hell, we don’t even know if something is wrong with her yet. But they both know that you have… you have literally devoted your entire being to taking care of her, protecting her. You did what you thought was the best option in the moment. And maybe… Maybe there was no getting out of that ambush without something happening to one of you.”

Rounding the corner to the tunnel, his heart stopped inside his chest.

You weren’t there.

“Bucky? Bucky? What’s going on? You there? What’s happening?”

It was like the world around him had gone fuzzy, and all he could hear was a ringing in his ears.

You weren’t there.

You weren’t there, and it was all his fault.

He told you to go to the tunnel.

How fucking stupid was he? The tunnel was possibly the worst place he could’ve told you to go to. It’s closed off, a literal tube with water all around you except two very small exits that were easily blocked.

What had he done?

Slumber had come easy for you for once. You were so exhausted, even your bones weary, from dancing all day. And by all day, that meant for over twelve hours because of your sadistic new instructor.

The last one had been… disposed of.

You’d woken at sunrise as usual and gone straight to ballet, only for the instructor to not let you go after the normal three hour class.

The rest of the girls filed out of the dance studio, some glancing back at you in curiosity.

There was no worry in their eyes. It was every girl for themselves these days.

If you thought real hard, you could remember a time when you all looked out for each other. You would braid each other’s hair, give a warning if any of the instructors or Madame B were near. If someone didn’t wake up when they were supposed to, the girls would shake her awake and help her get ready on time.

But that time was no more.

Those that ran the infamous Red Room didn’t like when their… students banded together. Things were better for them when you all hated each other and sought ways to sabotage the others.

It made you more likely to kill during a sparring session, and they only wanted girls who were willing to go all the way.

“Is there something you needed from me, madam?” You asked, your hands folded behind your back, spine straight, your chin high.

Good posture had been beaten into you within a week of arrival.

You didn’t forget a lesson like that anytime soon.

The instructor was new to you girls, though you had been told she wasn’t new to the Red Room. She’d been one of you, once upon a time.

One of the few who had survived to graduation, and then lived long enough after to be brought back as an instructor.

“I’m told you’re a prodigy,” she drawled as she slowly walked towards you, her platinum blonde hair pulled into a tight ballerina bun much like your own. While all of you girls wore black leotards, hers was a pale lilac, a shimmering rehearsal skirt tied around her waist that swished around her thighs. “That you are Madame B’s new pride and joy… Though, just based on your dancing, there is absolutely nothing to be prideful of. It is a surprise to me that you haven’t been… taken care of.”

The implication was clear.

Just based on that morning’s class, she thought you were bad enough at ballet to be killed.

Was it possible she just wanted you executed now? Was she about to do so?

Even though Madame B would be pissed, there were more girls that they could train. She’d only be upset for so long before she’d have a new prodigy, a new pride and joy.

Before the Soldat would have a new trainee.

Before your Soldat would have a new trainee. All the other Soldats could have all the trainees they wanted, but your Soldat, your Seven… The thought of him training another girl made bile rise up in your throat.

“Do you have pointers for things I could work on, madame?” You asked, shoulders tensing as she circled you. Like a vulture ready to scavenge a dying animal.

“I simply thought I could lend you some extra practice time,” she said, a sickly sweet smile spreading over her lips as she looked you up and down. “And don’t worry about Madame B and your other instructors. I already let them know that I wanted extra time with you today.”

The way she was speaking was setting off alarms in your mind.

“Perfect,” you said clearly, not letting your fear show. The instructors could smell fear and would use it against you until your heart stopped beating.

“Do you know the role of Aurora in the Sleeping Beauty ballet?” She asked, eyes cold. When you nodded, she chuckled. “Good. You’ll be dancing it on pointe, start to finish. Now.”

You were shocked when she then turned and started the music, but you did as she said.

Now, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty is his longest ballet ever, at almost four hours long.

And you danced all of it.

“Below average,” the instructor said, glaring daggers at you. “Again.”

You needed water desperately, your lungs fighting for air as you pretended to be unbothered by having done that by taking slow, even breaths.

But you had to do it again.

And again.

Every time you finished, she gave some comment about how your dancing was shit, how you’d never be good enough.

At this point, you wished she would simply kill you and get it over with. You were exhausted and your muscles felt like they were going to give out at any moment.

“MALEN’KAYA!”

You fell out of your pirouette in your shock, gasping as your ankle twisted and you fell to the ground. “Fuck!”

Your Soldat stormed into the dance studio as you looked up, eyes wide.

When had he gotten back? He’d been on a mission for the past few days, and fuck, you’d missed him something fierce.

“Soldat,” the instructor breathed out as she stopped moving, staring up at him with blue eyes. “Remember me?”

“Yes,” he said, glaring at her like she was a pile of dog shit he’d stepped in.

She moved towards him, her hand coming to rest on his chest. “I was hoping to see—” She was cut off as he raised his hands to hold her face. The harsh woman looked so… soft for him. “I missed you. Did you miss me?”

“No,” he snarled, his voice dropping almost an octave. “You should’ve thought twice before touching my malen’kaya.”

The light that had been in her eyes when she first saw him quickly disappeared as she realized she was totally, and utterly, fucked.

Your heart caught in your throat as he so easily twisted her head, a loud snap ringing through the air. He let her limp, lifeless body fall to the ground with a thump before turning and rushing to you. The darkness that had been in his face was long gone as he pulled you close, his hands running over you to try to find sources of injuries.

It took you a moment to realize he was speaking, your ears ringing as you stared at the dead woman on the ground.

“—you okay? What the hell happened? Who allowed this?” He asked, talking a mile a minute as he checked over you. Once he finally got to your pointe shoes, he took in a shaky breath. “I have to check,” he said as he reached for the pink ribbons tied around your ankles.

In the two years since you’d known him, you’d never seen his hands shake like they were.

Your eyes locked in on his face, his brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed, as he tentatively untied one of your pointe shoes. He slowly slipped it off, his breath catching in his throat as he looked at your foot. It was only when the second one came off that you finally looked at the damage.

Well… You were sure your feet could have looked much worse after dancing for over twelve hours, but… It still wasn’t pretty.

“I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt that bad,” you lied, trying to soothe him.

He was usually much more composed than this, his face harder.

Even when he was feeling a bit nicer, a bit softer, it was nothing like this.

The Soldat shook his head, looking absolutely pissed. “You don’t have to lie. Never lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” you insisted. “But that might be because right now, they’re numb, so I can’t feel anything at all from about my ankles down. But that does mean I didn’t lie.”

You were attempting to joke with him, lighten up the mood a bit. However, he definitely didn’t seem to be taking the bait.

When you glanced over at the windows, for some reason you were surprised to see how late it was. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he drawled as he scooped you up, leaving your pointe shoes behind as he carried you to the locker room. The man was somehow almost completely silent as he set you on a bench and grabbed a first aid kit out of what seemed to be thin air, before gently cleaning away the blood.

Water was dripping somewhere in the locker room, the droplets hitting the tiled floor with soft clinks.

“You were gone,” you whispered, eyes trained on his face. He was still so handsome, even with the frown lines that were starting to appear. Not that you could blame him, everything he’d been through would more than warrant a few wrinkles. “You were gone so long…”

The Soldat’s eyes were soft, despite being the color of the ice that coated the windows. “I know… I can’t stand being away from you, but if I didn’t go… They’d find some way to punish me.” His rough flesh hand cupped your cheek. “And I think they’re starting to catch on that the best way to punish me would be through you, malen’kaya.”

For a second, you thought he was gonna kiss you. From the way his eyes flicked down to your lips and back up again, you could’ve sworn on your life.

But then he took in a deep breath.

And his hand left your cheek.

You tried to push down the disappointment that welled up in your throat, biting your lip.

“Come on, malen’kaya,” he said as he finished wrapping up your poor feet. “Let’s get you to bed.”

The other girls were already sleeping when he carried you into your room, each one of them with a single wrist handcuffed to the bed frame.

“Hate knowing that you’re locked here all night,” Soldat said, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he approached the only empty bed in the room. “It’s like… putting a lark in a cage. I don’t like it.”

“I know,” you said. “But… It’s just how it is.” You looked up at him with bright eyes as he laid you down and tucked the blanket in around you, making sure you were nice and cozy before he took your left wrist and cuffed it to the metal frame.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured, brushing his metal fingers along your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Oh, God…

Everything hurt…

Why did everything hurt?

It was like your head had been shoved under water, but your eyes were too heavy to open.

“—gotta take the video and send it.”

“How do we know he’ll come?”

“Oh, he’ll come. He’ll always come for her.”

Who was that? The voices sounded vaguely familiar, but not quite.

“His precious malen’kaya.”

You slipped back into unconsciousness even as you fought the darkness coming over you, slumping down again.

The clock ticked obnoxiously loud as you sat in the diner booth, your knee pulled up to your chest. A cold cup of half-drank coffee was sitting on the table in front of you.

You’d been waiting over an hour for him to show.

The lunch rush had come and gone, and the waitresses—in their rockabilly uniforms and roller skates—were shooting you pitying looks.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” you huffed as you got to your feet and slammed a crisp twenty dollar bill on the vinyl table top. “He asks me on a fucking date and then doesn’t fucking show. How fucking typical.”

It had only been two days since the mission where he’d asked you out on a date. Your ankle was wrapped, and you were under strict orders to rest.

So, of course, you’d dragged yourself out to this diner that he insisted on taking you to.

Well, meeting you at since you really, really didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness of riding in the same car.

If you were being honest, it hurt. A lot. You’d gotten your hopes up over the past two days, tossing and turning at night as you dreamed of what would happen on your date. Would it go anywhere? Would he end up being the love of your life?

You hadn’t had a crush on anyone since…

Well… Since your Soldat.

You missed him so fucking much.

And he wouldn’t have stood you up.

“Fuck Steve Rogers.”

Your face was flushed as you headed home, storming through the streets of Manhattan to the Avengers Tower. You needed time to stew, and the subway would be too fast.

“I should’ve just stayed home and taken that fucking bubble bath,” you huffed as you got in the elevator and rode up to the residential floors. Even if it had been meant to be a casual first date, you’d done your hair and stressed over your makeup, wearing your nicest pair of leggings and sneakers that didn’t have mud on the bottoms.

And even if the plan had been for it to be casual, you’d been looking forward to flowers and a kiss on the cheek, stealing a fry from his plate and maybe playing footsie under the table.

Just a little.

Like other girls got to do.

The elevator music was getting into your head, and there was no doubt it’d be haunting your dreams. But when the doors opened onto the common area floor, you were just about ready to burst into tears.

Because Steven Grant Rogers was sitting at the kitchen island and eating a sandwich as he laughed at some joke Rhodey made.

You couldn’t believe him. Was this his plan all along?

Steeling yourself, you straightened your spine and walked with purpose, planning on walking right by without even acknowledging him.

But of course, that wouldn’t be your luck.

As soon as Steve caught sight of you, he froze, his blue eyes going wide. Breathing out your name, he quickly scrambled to his feet. “Wait! Wait! Please! I’m so fucking sorry, I completely forgot!”

“It’s fucking fine, Rogers. It’s clearly a sign that this is was a bad idea in the first place,” you said, your voice cold enough to freeze him again.

“What?! No! Please, I’m just…” He groaned as he followed you onto the elevator that would take you up to the other residential floors. “I just had three meetings before noon and completely forgot! That doesn’t mean I don’t want this date with you!”

Taking a breath, you turned on him, glaring at him like he was a piece of dog shit on your shoe. “You know what the cherry on top of this is?” You asked with a laugh. “My first fucking date of my entire fucking life, and I get stood up. Fuck you, Rogers. Fuck. You.”

You’d successfully shocked him, and left him looking like a guppy, his mouth hanging open as he watched you leave him standing there.

When you came to again, you actually found the strength to open your eyes.

The room around you was like every stereotypical hostage room you’d ever seen in real life, and in movies.

Almost like the one Olivia Pope had been in on Scandal.

Though, you had a feeling that this one was real and wasn’t just a fancy set in a warehouse.

“Where am I?” You asked yourself, trying to take stock of everything. “Okay. Head hurts. Expected that. Don’t feel any sharp pains… so he probably shot me with a tranquilizer and not a bullet… Which is probably better for my chances of escape.” It was so fucking cold, your entire body was trembling. “No phone, so no way for the others to track me. Same clothing I was in… so at least there’s that.”

Your voice died as you heard movement beyond the black steel door in front of you, watching as it slowly opened. Your heart sank as you realized who was standing in front of you.

“It’s been too long, malen’kaya.”

[keenmarvellover]

POSTS FOR YOU - 1

Some links to posts with valuable content you want in one place.(BASICALLY EVERYTHING IS THERE)

Suggestions and Recommendations are appreciated and accepted.

Last Updated : 16/10/2020

NOTE: Some of these post are written in a crude and unruly fashion. But they contain valuable tips, guidance and information. If you can't/don't want to read such posts, then don't read.

Mental Health

Do you need a Hug?

Maybe you’re having a stressful day. Maybe you just need a deep breath. Maybe you just didn’t realize how stressed you are. You can get your comfort here.

Some stuff to help you sleep

This is definitely not a google drive full of the sleep stuff from the Headspace app, including sleepcasts, music, and wind down meditation, that normally costs 17.99 a month, no siree and you definitely shouldnt share this with people

Anti-Anxiety Tools

Some tools to help you before, during or after an anxiety attack

100 Reasons NOT To Kill Yourself

READ IT. SHARE IT. REBLOG IT. Save a Life.

HOBBIES MASTERPOST!!!!!!!!

A really excellent way to reduce anxiety is to pick up a new hobby. Find something you’re interested in, learn it, then use it as a healthy and productive way to cope.

Health

Some very Important Lists for Rating PAIN, FATIQUE AND MENTAL HEALTH

It is MUST share

PSA Rregarding Hospital bills

Also how to pay hospital bills when you are broke.

How to differentiate between COVID-19, FLU AND COMMON COLD

Anyway, as we enter cold & flu season in the YEAR of corona, this will come in very handy.

Treatment for HIV

VERY IMPORTANT. Please Read and Share.

What does the Color of your Period mean?

A must read for individuals who get periods.

How to differentiate between Period Cramps and Appendicitis

A MUST READ

From a Person who is Hard of Hearing

Types and levels of deafness

General Tips for Vagina Health

Some stuff they don't teach in sex-ed.

Undo the damage of Sitting

Are you always sitting down? Then these are some exercise you should probably try out for better health.

Guide to Proper Bra Fitting

Guide to Proper Bra Fit and Measuring. Please Read and Share.

Washable, Reusable Menstrual Pads

(Part II)

Reusable menstrual hygiene product, and are an alternative to disposable sanitary napkins or to menstrual cups.

Artists

Art Masterpost

How to draw *insert whatever you want, its there in the list*?

Book Binding

Some video links to different types of DIY Bookbinding

For Artists who Need Photoshop

If youre an artist who cant afford photoshop, definitely DO NOT go to this google drive to pirate the program, that would be so bad!!!

Do’s and Don'ts of Designing for Accessibility

Please consider this when designing for ANYTHING. For BUSINESSES and ARTISTS.

Writers

Color Synonyms

For both ARTISTS and WRITERS

How to make a Masterlist

Simple but efficient instructions to make a masterlist

ULTIMATE NOVEL WRITING RESOURCE MASTERLIST

This is an ultimate masterlist of many resources that could be helpful for writers.

List of AUs and Ship Tropes

For when you run out of ideas.

AUs

Ship Tropes

Legal sites to get some much needed Info

If there was only a way to find out all of this rather edgy information without getting yourself in trouble…

Resources for Describing Characters

For writing about physical appearances, character traits, talents,and skills and other related stuff of your characters, here is a comprehensive list.

Resources for Describing Emotions

Having trouble writing jealousy, happiness, motivation. Here you go!!

Some Resources for your Writing

Body Language

Reverse Dictionary

Character Traits

Things to Keep in mind when naming Characters

Valuable advice. Trust me

Words to Use when Writing Smut/Romance

This is for smut/romance writers. Kinda like a thesaurus.

Tips to write Pain

How are you supposed to write about pain you’ve never experienced before?

References for Greek Mythology Characters

Link to an extensive site every single detail of Greek Mythology from Gods to Family Trees.

Tips to write Blind Characters

Some tips that might be invaluable when writing character that are near-blind or blind

Things to Remember when writing a Highly Emotional Scene

Just small things that could make a great difference

How to write with Multiple POVs

Tips on how to write multiple POVs with diverse characters

Synonyms and Antonyms

The person who made this list is a blessing to writers. Just saying.

Good Qualities for Female Characters

Females don't always need to be protected and be weak. Make them more realistic.

Words to Use instead of ‘Said’

Every single situation is listed. Check it out.

Limits of the Human Body

All extremities listed

Readers

Legal Sites to Download Literature

From children’s books to rare books, from philosophy and religion to nonfiction. I guess you can find anything here.

The Rights of the Reader

And some (lots of) bashing of Helicopter Parents.(You want to read only the rights. Here it is)

Wet Book Rescue : Steps to save a Wet Book

Valuable information if some of your prized books were affected by recent flooding. The video even shows you what to do if you can’t dry the book out right away.

Cheatsheet to Navigate AO3

Makes your time on AO3 a little more easier and interesting

How to trick Writers into giving you More Fanfic to read

Works for Comics and Art as well.

Get a Book Suggestion

This book website gives you the first page of a random book without the title or author so that you can read it with no preconceptions

Books written by POC Writers

Only POC authors included in the list.

Students

Basic ASL (American Sign Language) Movements

ASL Hand Movements for beginners.

Tips for studying with ADHD/a>

Made by a person with ADHD themself.

Resources to Learn New Languages

Ten fairly useful general language resources

How to properly take notes

It helps. It really helps.

FREE ONLINE LANGUAGE COURSES

Here is a masterpost of MOOCs (massive open online courses) that are available, archived, or starting soon. I think they will help those that like to learn with a teacher or with videos.

A Thread of Tips

A thread of tips to help High School and College students academically

LEARN THINGS FOR FREE

FREE ONLINE COURSES (here are listed websites that provide huge variety of courses)

Google like a BOSS

Some life hacks which make student's lives easier.

625 words to know in your Target Language

If your learning a new language, these words will help you build a strong foundation.(Some tips and sites are include too)

Miscellaneous/Life Hacks

How to add music to your Blog

How to add your very own, custom homemade playlist to your blog?

How to Walk with Purpose?

Some tips on how to hold yourself in public and why.

Cheatsheet for Laundry Rooms

Saves a lot of money in the Laundry Room

How to Gird up your Loins?

A lesson in how to gird your loins.

How to Disappear Online

Please read and spread for the sake of abuse victims or stalker victims.

What to do during a Nuclear Attack

I hope you never have to use it but here are some guidelines to follow in the event of a nuclear attack

How to pull an All-Nighter.

A to-do list

Write a Thank You letter after your Interview

It leaves a good impression on your interviewer and increase your chances of passing the interview.

Laundry Tags: Meanings

A life hack that you’ll definitely need at some point.

Where to find free Movies and Series Online

Lots of sites. Lots and Lots of sites. I am not Kidding. Now go and chill without netflix. (Part II)

How to get a Refund?

Get your stuff or a refund.

HOW TO DO EVERYTHING FROM SCRATCH

This starts at the most absolute basics of gardening and planting, provides definitions, and hopefully is easily understandable. This is a MUST-READ. (Farming)

Discuss your wages

It’s your right to share your salary, not doing so could be holding you back.

Youtube Tutorials for Basically EVERYTHING

This is a big, giant list of Youtube tutorials that will teach you all the basic life skills you need to know in order to be a functional adult.

Safety

Emergency Evacuation - Items to Gather

A text list of suggested items to acquire in the event of an emergency.

If someone you know is in an abusive relationship

AN ABBREVIATED GUIDE TO ‘Holy shit!!! My friend is in an abusive relationship what do I do’ and what not to do.

Defense Tips for Women

Defense and Safety tips a woman MUST know. (Part II)

An app that informs your Emergency contacts if you are inactive in a set period of time.(Could prevent rape attempts if used correctly)

If a Man gets Physical

How to check if a mirror is one way or two-way

If you are trapped in a smoke-filled apartment: What to Do

How to get out of Hand-binds

How to get out of the bunker of a Car

How to track Anonymous asks.

How to pick a Lock

Traits and Warning signs of an Abuser

What to do if a bigot pulls your Hijab (from behind)

What to do if someone pulls of a Muslim Woman's Hijab? (To do List for both Men and Women)

[nogreatillusion]

Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me Before Giving Birth

-- Zippers are preferable to snaps and both are certainly better than buttons, but don't let people make you feel bad if you want to buy a couple of impractical, beautiful baby things that they'll only wear once. -- A friend (a doctor!) DID tell me that most people hate their baby for the first two weeks, a thoroughly un-researched fact which shocked my grandmother but gave me an enormous sense of relief before my baby was born as I was finally able to unburden myself from the fear that I might fail to live up to the overwhelmingly prevalent idea that all mothers will immediately fall madly in love from the moment their child is born and stay that way. -- Don't waste your money on expensive diapers. They will all leak sometimes and that's life. Buy the cheap ones. Same goes for wipes. They're all the same. -- If you are planning to breastfeed, buy lots of very comfortable bras and then buy at least two more than you think you need. You will be unshowered, covered in milk, and behind on laundry for at least a couple of months. Clean, comfortable bras are a gift. -- If you get a clogged milk duct, it will feel like a little lump in your breast and you can massage it out using a vibrator. Do this ASAP to prevent mastitis. -- I think bottle warmers might be a scam. -- You can breastfeed lying down. It might work better, and it will certainly be easier on your back. -- Babies can just wear pajamas or onesies all the time for their first year of life. You don't need "outfits," or separates, unless you want them. No one will notice or care. -- Don't forget to brush your teeth and go to bed like a normal person sometimes. It took me 3 days to remember this. It feels insane to "go to bed" when you're getting up every two to three hours. Do it anyway. -- You're going to hallucinate due to lack of sleep and intense anxiety about falling asleep with the baby. You will imagine that the baby is lost in the sheets until your husband insists for the third time that the baby is in the bassinet. This will go on for months and it will always feel terrible. -- Pick a few good TV shows with a lot of seasons to watch the first month. You're going to be spending a lot of time on the couch. Like a lot. -- Formula smells incredibly bad and it is shockingly expensive. It can also be a lifesaver. -- You can keep track of feedings and diaper changes and baby sleep on a little handwritten spreadsheet to report to your pediatrician like a good parent, but this might also drive you slowly insane until your child's doctor has to remind you that you're raising a child, not running a hospital and really, you can stop. Please don't do this to yourself. -- Socks are for suckers. If it's cold out, buy footie everything for as long as you can possibly get away with it. -- None of the expensive eczema lotions or body washes will make any difference for your baby’s sensitive skin, but you can buy them anyway if it makes you feel better to do something. It will probably get better on its own when they get older and you've long since given up on the fancy creams. -- Buy the adult diapers for postpartum bleeding. -- You can use your baby's desitin on your own butt if things are beginning to chafe down there. -- Be prepared that breastfeeding might be a two person job for at least the first few weeks. It's complicated and difficult for many women, and having a partner there to help juggle and keep the baby (and you!) awake might be necessary! -- You don't really have to master swaddling. It's fine. I'm convinced that birthing classes devote time to this technique solely because it makes you feel like you're in control of something. You're not and you can buy sleep sacks that do the same thing, but better. -- Plain old spaghetti strap tank tops that you can slip an arm/boob out of work just as well as expensive, ugly nursing tops. — You don’t need the $900 stroller. I promise you. Spend your money on the nicest rocking chair you can find, if you have the space. You will be spending a lot of time there. -- Read the sleep books before the baby is born. Take notes. Make a plan. You will not have the energy for this later. -- Stop googling things about SIDS after 10 PM. Turn off your phone. Stop it!! -- If your partner has time off work for a while, a really good time to nap is when people come over to see the baby. You don't have to "host," you don't have to be "on," you can ask them to leave whenever you want. Let your partner handle it. The rules of politeness no longer apply. -- Don't expect to feel like you have it together for at least 2 months. The first 2 months are a blur. By 4 months, you'll finally be hitting your stride. Be patient with yourself. -- You do not have to let people visit you in the hospital before you've taken a shower and put on the cute pajamas you brought. You are going to feel like you were hit by a car and that no one seems to notice or care. You don't have to let people visit you in the hospital at all, actually. It's entirely up to you, as much as your parents may disagree. -- Crying is normal. For both of you. -- It can be really hard to get a newborn baby into a carseat for the first time. Make sure your partner helps handle this before going to get the car or you may find yourself in tears, squatting painfully in front of the car seat on the hospital floor, trying desperately to maneuver a tiny little person who is still curled up like a snail. -- Bring so many snacks to the hospital. Bring an entire duffle bag of snacks. No one else has to know what's in there. -- Buy the big burp cloths. Buy a lot of them. Keep them handy in every room of your house. — Do not buy that goddamn Snoo. -- It's ok and necessary to put your baby down. You will want places to set the baby down in each room of your home. Swings, snuggle pillows, playmats, bouncers, baskets, bassinets, whatever. It's up to you, but try to keep one spot to put them down in each room that you spend a lot of time in. It doesn’t need to be anything fancy. A blanket on the floor works in a pinch! -- When it comes to feeding, buy the bibs that can go in the dishwasher and a highchair that can be entirely wiped clean. -- You're going to clip the baby's finger with the tiny nail clippers. It will be awful. You will all survive. -- Get the breast shields with the silicone edges for pumping. Pumping sucks and anything you can do to make it slightly more comfortable is worth it. — A certain percentage of baby crying is unrelated to needing milk, sleep, or a diaper change. Sometimes babies just cry! They’re like people and they have moods! Remind yourself of this when you’re losing your mind trying to figure out what you’ve forgotten to try. You can just pretend they are a very small friend who needs to cry for a bit, and be a soothing presence while they work through it. -- Reusable nursing breast pads are more comfortable and absorbent than the disposable kind, and will keep you from feeling nervous about leaking every time you leave the house. -- It's ok to leave the baby in a safe place to go to the bathroom. The first time you have to do this, it will be terrifying. -- Don't expect the suction bowls to stay put. Your baby is strong and not an idiot. -- You might need more changing pad covers than you think you do. -- The baby milestone books exist to make you feel either superior or terrified. It's ok not to read them. Your baby will roll over when they roll over. Please stop worrying. -- The first few times you watch the youtube video of someone masterfully wrapping their baby in a fabric sling, you will decide it is impossible. It's not, and you'll get better at it with practice, though you may always feel like you're not *quite* doing it right. This is a metaphor for all of motherhood.

[cloudywriter]

camp staghorn - 3

alright, i had hoped for chapter 3 to be longer but then i decided to split it up for the sake of the flow. as i’ve been writing too things have naturally changed so i didn’t intend for this whole chapter to be in rowan’s view so now my summary isn’t exactly an excerpt but hope that’s okay. anyway enjoy! 

masterlist, main masterlist, AO3

~~~

Rowan was quickly realizing the grave error he had made in aggravating this girl. He thought she might throw a bit of a fit after getting flour dumped on her head in front of the whole camp but she took it upon herself to retaliate that very day.

That was how Rowan ended up with his campers 30 minutes late to the bonfire. His shoes were soaked through with muddy creek water and sloshed with every step he took. Even his socks were drenched and it was the worst feeling in the world. 

He had tried to jump up on the line a few times and let gravity pull the dinners back towards them but it didn’t seem to weigh enough. Thus, Rowan had to sacrifice his shoes in order to untie the bag directly from the zipline where it rested above the stream. 

His campers were both amused by the feud but also put out by having to wait for their dinners and be late to the bonfire. Rowan just trudged along, silently fuming, following the orange flames that flickered through the trees in the distance. His shoes making a disgusting squish with every step he took.

When Rowan and his campers finally appeared, obviously late, Aelin turned around from her spot on a makeshift log bench and gave him a dazzling smile, clearly proud of her work. It took Rowan a bit by surprise with the light from the fire reflecting back in her blue eyes and illuminating her face, she looked beautiful. He had thought so even the day before but then she opened her big mouth and blatantly cheated during the mud race and her angelic appeal took on a different form.  

Rowan just huffed and gave her a withering glare before perching himself on another log facing the opposite way. Maybe if she wasn’t such a piece of work they could’ve gotten along fine enough and been civil.

It was then that Fenrys came and plopped himself right beside Rowan. “Hey, man,” he greeted, energetic as usual despite the darkening sky. Fenrys was always sunshine come to life, happy but insufferable, unable to take anything seriously. Rowan was a little more tense in nature, a loner by heart, he only needed someone to make him come to life.

“Hey,” Rowan grunted. “What happened?” Fenrys inquired. 

“Aelin happened,” he responded with a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Aelin? She’s still bothering you?” 

“Yeah, she fucking tied our dinners to one of the ziplines and left a note covered in hearts.”

Fenrys was laughing his ass off, of course, always willing to capitalize off of Rowan’s misery. He tried to give Rowan a pat on the back but he shoved his hand away. 

“C’mon man, you can’t let her win like this. Get her back,” Fenrys pressed. 

Up until this point, Rowan hadn’t considered rectifying her actions. He was too caught up in the state of his shoes and getting his campers back to the bonfire to even think past his annoyance. 

“Okay, I got a plan for you. You go to her camp’s cabin and loosen all their facets so when they turn on the sinks they fly off and water sprays everywhere.”

It was brilliant thinking Rowan had to admit but his plan had a few holes that Rowan voiced. “When am I supposed to do that? I don’t even know her cabin number.”

“Those are easy fixes, dude. Go to the map outside the dining hall, all the cabins are labeled with which camp numbers are where and you know she’s number 6,” Fenrys explained. 

Rowan nodded along, surprised Fenrys was more observant than he was in this instance. “And you should go now. I’ll keep track of her and if she ever starts wondering over your way I’ll make a distraction,” Fenrys continued. 

“What are you going to do that isn’t outright suspicious?” Fenrys wasn’t exactly subtle. 

Fenrys shrugged, “I’ll just flirt with her. I mean, she’s hot anyway I was going to try to get her number one way or another. Plus, I’m practically irresistible.” Rowan wasn’t sure why he felt slightly irked by Fenrys’s strategy but he shoved the brief feeling aside.

“Get a move on before it’s too late,” Fenrys persisted, getting up to keep an eye on Aelin as he promised. Rowan did as told and slipped into the shadows, ready to execute his plan. 

By the time Rowan made it outside cabin 3B it had been at least 15 minutes, he was a little embarrassed to admit he got a bit lost on the dimly lit forest trail. He opened the main door and screen door with a creak, internally cringing as he did so, though no one was around.

The cabin was much tidier than Rowan’s own. The girls' belongings were organized and the beds were neatly made. Rowan quickly located the bathroom and flipped on the lights, hoping that no suspicion would be drawn. 

The bathroom counter had three sinks and various toiletries scattered around the counter. Rowan spotted a collection of hair and skin products and just knew they belonged to Aelin, he didn’t think any 12-year-old girls were using those. 

He left the toiletries alone though, that wasn’t his mission. He had only loosened one of the facets when he heard muffled voices outside the cabin. 

Rowan quickly shut off the lights and darted behind one of the shower curtains that shielded three showers in the back of the bathroom. The cabin’s door squeaked open and Rowan could make out Fenrys’s voice from the outside, pleading with Aelin. 

“Aelin, c’mon, we could go back to my cabin for some fun, you know.” Rowan could sense the underlying panic in his teasing tone. 

“Oh, go away you horn dog and take a hint,” he could hear the eye roll in Aelin’s voice too. 

Footsteps sounded, striding towards the bathroom and Rowan tried to quiet his breathing. His heart was beating out of his chest, he really did not want to be found in the girls’ cabin. As innocent as what he was doing was it certainly looked suspicious. The lights flipped on and Rowan cringed, silently praying to whatever would listen. 

Aelin hummed a little and a facet turned on. Judging by the lack of screams at least it wasn’t the sink Rowan had just tampered with. He dared a peek through the sliver of space between the curtain and the shower’s tile wall. Aelin was at a sink, washing her hands that seemed to be covered with chocolate and marshmallow residue, looks like he was missing s’mores. 

Just as quickly as Aelin appeared, she left. Rowan breathed a sigh of relief, his heart finally calming in his chest. He was just so goddamn lucky she hadn’t started taking a shower or something, Rowan would’ve definitely combusted on the spot. 

Rowan slipped out from behind the curtain after a few minutes of waiting, ensuring that the coast was truly clear. He quickly loosened the remaining facets and hurried back to the bonfire before any suspicion could arise.

+++

Rowan woke his camp early the next morning despite their protests. He played it off as wanting the premium breakfast selections before everyone else took them but truly he didn’t want to miss Aelin’s reaction to his little jest.

He expected it would happen in the morning when everyone was getting up and ready to start the day and he wanted front row seats.

As Rowan entered the dining hall he was immediately met with his failure of a lookout, Fenrys. 

“I’m sorry, I swear, dude, I pulled out all the charm and she still just kept walking, complaining about her hands being sticky,” Fenrys tried to desperately explain. Rowan just shook his head and brushed it off, reassuring Fenrys there was no harm done. However, if Aelin had found him he probably would’ve had Fenrys’s head by now. 

Rowan was disappointed by Aelin and her camp’s absence throughout breakfast but he realized it was still early and at least three camps were yet to appear. He tapped his fingers on the table and impatiently waited, thrumming with anticipation.

At last, he sighed and made his way outside to dispose of his food in the big trash can. As he was making the short trip back into the dining hall incessant stomping from behind had him turning around and he smiled like the Chesire Cat. 

He could tell by her face that Aelin was positively seething. She was still dressed in her pajamas, a large t-shirt dwarfing her frame but it was soaked from her collar bones down. The ends of her hair were a deep golden blonde, wet and dripping with sink water. 

She stopped face to face with him and shoved the detached facet into his chest with a force that should not have been humanly possible. Rowan almost stumbled back a step but kept with his facade, outwardly admiring his handy work. 

“Fix it, you dick,” she hissed in his face, lacing her arms across her chest. 

“What seems to be the problem, princess?” 

“Oh, don’t play stupid right now and come screw it back on or I will drag you there by your ear.”

Rowan was weirdly turned on. With her face so close to his and the tension in the air was as taut as a freshly tuned guitar string, he was struggling to breathe properly. Aelin stirred him like no other, she was a walking wildfire, burning bright and utterly uncontained. 

Rowan terminated his inner monologue and gestured for her to lead the way. Aelin huffed, spinning on her heel and marching the path back to her cabin. 

Rowan actually had to work to keep pace with this girl and he was an athlete, constantly practicing or on a field for one sport or another. Aelin breezed through the forest trail never stumbling on rocks or stray roots even with her heavy steps that communicated her frustration clearly. 

When they reached the cabin door, Aelin entered and let the door fall behind her despite knowing Rowan was only a couple of steps back. He huffed and pushed open the door once more. The cabin was empty, likely Aelin had sent the girls to get breakfast while she dealt with Rowan’s antics. 

Aelin stood expectantly in the bathroom.

“Do you need to watch?” Rowan questioned.

“Well, someone has to make sure you don’t put it back on and twist the handles off while you’re at it,” Aelin explained coldly, her arms still crossed, her stance daring him to challenge her. 

Rowan only gave her a bitter scoff and effortlessly screwed the facet back into place. “Look at that, good as new, now was that so hard?” He definitely enjoyed taunting her. 

“Save it smartass, now I might not even get breakfast.”

Aelin stomped back to the countertop and squirted some toothpaste onto her brush, reaching out to turn on another sink. Rowan’s eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen.

“Wait, Ae-” 

It was too late. The damage was done and once again Aelin was being showered as water sprayed through the crack in the loosened pipes. 

“ROWAN!” She screeched but Rowan was already reaching over and twisting the handle back so the water would stop running. 

“What the fuck! You did it to all of them!” Aelin’s face was flushed with anger and her eyes were blazing. 

“I tried to warn you!” Rowan attempted to defend himself but Aelin didn’t look convinced. Rowan snatched a white towel off of the drying rack and wrapped it around her shoulders. That’s when Rowan recognized what he was doing, swaddling the soaked girl in a towel, breaching a new territory altogether. They made eye contact. Aelin’s face was relaxed and she regarded him with a soft, perplexed expression. 

Rowan removed his hands from where they were holding the towel together and cleared his throat. “You probably want to change,” he suggested lamely.  

“Uh, yeah.” With that, Aelin exited the bathroom and dug through her bag for a change of clothes while Rowan tightened the remaining sinks awkwardly, putting his prank to a rest. 

Once Rowan had finished he slipped out of Aelin’s cabin while she continued to get ready. When he arrived back at the dining hall he noticed breakfast was quickly coming to a close and a kernel of guilt panged through him. His goal hadn’t been to starve her by forcing her to miss breakfast. 

Rowan grabbed an apple and recognized a girl with long, deep brown hair and brown eyes sitting at a nearby table, a girl Rowan often saw accompanying Aelin. He approached her and cleared his throat to capture her attention, she shifted in her seat to face the noise. 

“Can you, uh, give this to Aelin when she comes?” He asked, holding out the red apple. 

“Yeah, sure,” the girl said kindly, taking the apple from his hand. 

With that, Rowan went back outside to find wherever his campers had journeyed off to in their free time. Along with him followed an abundance of contradicting feelings. 

~~~

i gave them a lil moment - aelin will stab him in the back again tho don’t worry.

send prompts!

taglist: @live-the-fangirl-life // @rowaelinismyotp // @gosuckadickghostman // @camilamartinezdunne​ //

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

Delete the Twitter app, Mr. Barba

In which Rafael Barba deletes the Twitter app because of the Householder case, and Carmen babysits him. 

Accidental Feminist Icon

The last thing on Rafael Barba’s mind when he was in the hospital room with Maggie Householder was his online reputation. Once he’d turned himself in and been released on his own recognizance, however, he opened his phone to call mami and instead saw hundreds of Twitter notifications, emails from people whose names he didn’t recognize, and missed calls and voicemails from unfamiliar numbers. He didn’t touch Twitter, texting Carmen to ask how bad it was and she advised him to delete the application until at least after the trial. When he went home, mami was there and just as disappointed as he expected. There were tears the minute she saw him, but not any offered comfort. 

“You murdered a child, mijo.”

“You don’t understand, mami. No lo viste. El no estaba realmente vivo.”

“Esa fue la decisión de Dios. No es tu decisión. Tu abuela estaría tan decepcionada de ti.”

“No estoy de acuerdo. Si estás aquí para regañarme, vete a casa.”

“Te llevo a la confesión.”

“Vete a casa, mami. Me confesaré cuando esté lista.”

“Rafa-”

“Go home.”

Lucia stormed out, and Rafael went inside his apartment and went straight for the scotch he kept aside. It wasn’t his good scotch. It was the cheap one that burned his throat and left him sicker than he ever was the next day. Before twisting off the cap, he heeded Carmen’s advice, deleting the Twitter app as he dropped to the couch and began to drink. It was only eleven, not even noon, but he didn’t want to remember what had transpired the day before. He should wade through his email, but someone had posted it. He knew because it was referenced time and time again that they’d found his personal email via some Twitter thread or Subreddit or something else he hadn’t yet encountered. He’d had to mute his phone as phone calls rolled in; the only one he answered confirmed it was strangers from the Internet who had seen the news. Carmen called it getting cancelled when it happened to other people. That usually didn’t involve the loss of a life, so the term seemed not quite right for what was happening, especially given the fact this included more than just the people he was used to. People who had never encountered him were hearing about him in the news. 

He ignored Olivia’s calls, considering the morning’s interactions enough. As he drank, Rafael was able to filter unknown numbers and messages, tossing the phone aside and quickly finishing the bottle. Olivia came by, and he didn’t answer, choosing to lay back on the couch as the room spun around him. Carmen texted him, and he didn’t look. An hour later, he heard her outside of his door with Olivia and unlocking he apartment for her. He’d given her a key long ago so she could get files or suits or drop off leftovers. Both of them came in, and it suddenly dawned on him that he had his suspenders down and shirt open over his undershirt. He’d spilled the most recent tumbler over himself with the pizza he’d ordered. And now, they could see him like this, eyes rimmed red and mood unstable as he thought more than he could about himself. 

“Mr. Barba,” Carmen said softly, kneeling by him. Olivia stayed closer to the door, surveying the room. By the nature of their constant proximity, Carmen had seen the tail end or starts of Rafael getting frustrated, though he always pressed it down with a glass of scotch and good meal. That said, she’d found him too drunk after a trial didn’t go his way. Seen him frustrated as he went through a case he may not be able to do anything about it. Caught him yelling at paperwork as though something would happen. She’d also seen him the next mornings when he came in pretending not to be insanely hungover and was wearing the suit from his office.

“I’m fine.”

“No you aren’t. Is this what happens between an eight o’clock bourbon and the office suit?”

“Shut up, Carmen.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m helping you.”

“Sorry,” he said with a huff as his hand ran down his face, and Olivia had to stifle a laugh at how properly embarrassed he looked. “My email and phone are bad. How bad is Twitter?”

“Medium. A lot of people understand. Or they feel that they can’t understand, so they’ll watch the story.”

“People understand murder?” he scoffed.

“No. No one does. But we all understand how impossible your choice was. How badly the parents were hurting.”

“I was too selfish to do it for my dad.”

“I know, Mr. Barba. But people want to know how long until they hear more. Want people to wait. Can see why you did it. It’ll blow over. We can change your number and your email. Twitter has a really handy button. Block.”

“My name’s Rafael.”

“You’re my boss.”

“Not for long,” he chuckled bitterly before his gaze softened. “All I wanted was for people not to hurt.”

“You need to go to bed, Rafa.” It was Olivia now, and his eyes suddenly snapped open. It was different when it was Olivia. They were friends, but they kept things to work. Other than the occasional group event, they’d grab dinner after work. She didn’t hear him debate pocket squares or see him drunk alone in his office or help him think of replies on Twitter. He’d probably lose his friendship with Carmen once he wasn’t in the office, he supposed. She humored her boss a lot more than she probably should.

“I’m fine, Liv.” It came with more of a snort than he liked, and he was suddenly pulling himself up to sit, wrapping his shirt around himself as though it were a cardigan. Carmen watched he was steady, and Olivia was sure she now knew what she’d looked like when Noah was learning to walk on his own with her hand on his back to keep him upright. Once things passed, she wanted to ask if Rafael was always this willing to be relaxed around Carmen, but she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.

“I don’t think I’m helping things,” Olivia said softly, and Carmen gave a gentle nod.

“My son’s with my mom for a visit. I’ll take care of him.”

“You’re sure? I can call Lucia.”

“I’m fine, lieutenant. And mami has already been here.”

“Make sure he meets with an attorney tomorrow.”

“I make his calendar. I know.”

“You two can stop talking about me like I’m not here,” he grumbled, heels pressed against his eyes. “I’m drunk, not deaf.”

“You’re belligerent, counsellor.”

“Call me Rafael,” he said again, flopping onto the couch when Olivia had left again.

“I thought Lieutenant Benson was your best friend, Rafael.”

“She is, I guess. Is that sad? My best friend used to be Alex, but I pursued that case. As if mami needed more reason to hate me.” 

“You don’t act like you in front of her. Not all the way.”

“This isn’t me.”

“It’s you without a carefully constructed persona.”

“If that’s the case, I suppose you’re my best friend, Miss Frye.” She’d expected to see a bemused smirk or annoyed scowl, but Carmen was taken aback by how sincere he looked as his hand moved to rest on her forearm and squeeze as well as he could.

“My name’s Carmen,” she teased. “Now come on. You need to go to bed.”

“My suit will get wrinkled.”

“I’ll hang it for you.”

“You can sleep in the guest room. It’s not safe for you to go-” His eyes were suddenly wide. “Carmen, where’s Ollie?”

“With my mom. I told her you needed me for a couple days.”

“You don’t need to disrupt your life.”

“I’ll tell you a secret Mist- Rafael.”

“What?” he asked, flopping into bed where she’d pulled the blanket down once he managed to strip to his boxers.

“You’re my best friend too.” She tugged the blanket over him, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. He smiled up at her, and she made her way out turning off the lights. It seemed silly to say it to someone like him, but they’d worked together a long time, had a lot of late night talks. She liked him more than a lot of people she knew, and saw him more than anyone outside of her family. 

Carefully, she cleaned his living room, dumping his other bottle of cheap scotch out and disposing of both before setting up the coffee to brew at seven, just in time to have him at an attorney’s office by nine. McCoy had approved her to work from wherever she needed to in order to keep Rafael functioning. She’d have been miserable helping Peter Stone with this trial anyway. They both knew about his father, and it seemed he may be a ticking time bomb. She logged into his twitter, going on a blocking spree as she explored his mentions, tweeting from her own account and his that she’d done it and retweeting it from his account. 

She also liked all the kind ones. The ones asking for understanding or expressing empathy. The ones that acknowledged he had an impossible choice and neither one would have sat well with their own conscious. Leave a child and his family to suffer without end or expedite the inevitable. Then there were his direct messages. Since getting verified, he had the ability to only see messages from people he followed. As she combed through, there were a couple of hateful messages she ignored, but most who knew him expressed understanding and a couple even included leads if he wanted out of the city. She marked those down in her notes app before falling asleep in the guest bedroom. 

The sound that greeted her in the morning was Rafael Barba vomiting as the coffee machine roared to life in the background. Silently, she ordered ginger tea and vitamin b12 for delivery, going to fetch the pedialyte she’d brought from home. When he came out, hair wet from a shower, she’d already brewed him tea, cooked breakfast, and given him an expectant look as she slid a glass of unnaturally purple electrolytes to him. He didn’t know what to say, so he took the proffered glas and took a long sip before wincing.

“Grape,” she said plainly.

“Grapes don’t taste like that.”

“Ollie likes it okay. I make him popsicles though.”

“He’s old enough for popsicles? Isn’t he still on milk?”

“Rafael, he’s two. He drinks milk, but he even eats.”

“Does he like books yet?”

“He does. He really likes being read to.”

“I’ll read to him next time I see him.” He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was thick. “Do you play him music?”

“Some. Usually my playlists.”

“Play him Bach.”

“You’ll have to tell me what’s best to play him.”

“I’ll send you a playlist.” 

“Why Bach?” She watched as his jaw shifted from side to side, lips pressed together, and that told her all she needed to know. “Drew liked Bach?”

“He’d never know if he liked Bach. Maggie was playing one of his cantatas.”

“Maybe we can take him to an orchestra one day.”

“There are some shows. Kid friendly.”

“He’d like that.”

“I’ll send it to you.”

“You’ll come, won’t you?”

“Me?”

“It’s your idea.”

“You’d still let me around your son?”

“My son is a healthy vibrant boy. If he was in the same situation as Drew, it would be hard, but I’d still want you there. You did exactly what I would have done for him, okay?”

“Did you mean what you said last night?”

“Which part?”

“The last part.”

“You probably are my best friend. And that hasn’t changed. I wish you didn’t have to be put in the situation, but I would hope I’d have been strong enough to do the same. And other people agree with me.”

“God, you’re not actually looking at Twitter.”

“I looked at Twitter. I blocked anyone vitriolic. But, I collected all the kind ones in your favorites for when you’re ready. A lot of your attorney friends have job leads for you if you leave the DA’s office.”

“I’m leaving. And I’m probably going to fucking prison. You’ll be down a friend in a few months.”

“Stop it.”

“They’ll end me in there, Carmen. I sent some of them there.” She wasn’t sure what to make at how at peace with the prospect he was.

“And you won’t go to prison. Don’t focus on that. Even if you do, they’ll have to do something to protect you. And I’ll come visit you.”

“You barely know me.”

“We spend more time together than I do with anyone else. I know you’re good, you have a good heart, you send birthday presents to every SVU detective’s kid and think I don’t know you send them coffee gift cards on their birthdays. You’re a total mama’s boy and despite what a snarky prick you are, you have imposter syndrome out the ass. You’re lapsed enough Catholic not to go to church, but you pray when things are really bad. I also know some part of your brain feels like you’ve let down people who think you do good work by this one thing, but one bad doesn’t outweigh an exorbitant amount of good. I hope Ollie has half of the ethical backbone you do. I know there have been occasions in the past you weren’t perfect, but the man I’ve known deserves every ounce of credit he gets. That doesn’t mean you’ve never made a mistake.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, and much to his chagrin, Carmen wrapped him in a hug that he returned, refusing to look at her. He was suddenly aware he’d cry if he looked at what he knew was a genuine smile. “I’ve got to get dressed to see an attorney.”

“Who are you going with?”

“Randy Dworkin.”

“He’ll be good.”

“I hate to admit that. And I’m sure I’ll hate every second with him.”

“How about you teach me about Bach this afternoon?”

“You have work.”

“McCoy approved me to be remote.”

“So you’re my sitter?” She could almost swear a smile pulled at the corner of his lip, and she felt pride she didn’t expect.

“I suppose. So Bach?”

“Bring Ollie?”

“Deal.”

[rina-writes]

Caught

Summary: You and Grayson can’t seem to get time alone to make love despite being together for months.  After multiple thrwated attempts, you both decide to create an opportunity instead of waiting for one.

Warning: Light smut (I think) plus my silly humor inserted within said light smut haha

~

It was finally happening.  After months of sexual tension, you and Grayson were actually letting it out.  For real this time...

Was this the most preferred location?  Probably not.  

You were currently on a group vacation in Hawaii, in an Airbnb with the most paper thin walls in the world.  Sure, Ethan was out like a light, but you knew that their crew and your friends could hear the sound of Grayson’s headboard slamming into the wall repeatedly.

Was the location better than the ‘almost’ times you hooked up? Absolutely.

There was the time you confessed your feelings to each other, in their customized van.  Ethan was enjoying a last surf, but Grayson sat it out to sit with you in the van.  You were wrapped in his towel, watching the sunset. Grayson had made his feelings for you known from the very beginning. He always found an excuse to invite you over to hang out or to functions with friends.  He would send you Snaps and texts when he saw something that reminded him of you, which seemed to be everything.  He often complimented you, from your looks to your talents to your personality. The ball was in your court.  While you reciprocated his attention, you didn’t let on about how much you liked him.  

As you watched the sunset together, you were so overwhelmed that you just started blurting out your feelings.  You don’t even remember what you were saying at the time, and perhaps it didn’t matter. Because soon you were in Grayson’s lap and sharing your first kiss together.  It was a dream: His stubble was scratching your chin, his dark wavy hair was looped around your fingers, and he tasted like a mix of spearmint and the sea. Your back collided with the soft, plush padding of the “bed” in the van.  You opened your eyes to see Grayson staring at you with such an intensity that you could feel the heat rising on your cheeks. He tossed the towel off of you, his eyes scanning your swimsuit-clad body as if planning his attack. Just as his fingers hook under the left leg hole of your swimsuit, you hear a loud exclamation.  It was one of their crew members.  You didn’t get to see who as you both scrambled awkwardly to cover yourself with a towel.

“It’s alright,” You laughed.  “Next time.”

Grayson stared at you with lustful eyes, his lower lip pinched by his teeth. “You’re damn right there will be.”

Next time was apparently at his mom’s home in New Jersey two weeks later during a family barbecue.  Your relationship was still under wraps.  You had told your best friend and Grayson probably told Ethan, but no one really knew you were together.  There weren’t any labels or anything.  Plus, with his work and your commitments, this was the first time you had seen each other since the beach.  Grayson’s tongue was down your throat with one hand at the base of your neck and the other hand slipped under your shirt as he fiddled with your bra.  Meanwhile, your fingers were focused on unbuckling his belt, given that his shirt had been disposed long before.  

You heard the washing machine beep, but neither of you broke apart. It was so rare that you two were together, alone.  In that moment, you thought this was going to be the time you were going to ride Grayson Dolan, but alas, it was not. The door opened and you two pushed away from each other like repelling magnets.  Grayson tripped and dislocated his shoulder, and you broke your pinky.  Grayson’s mother, who had gotten more than what she bargained for when she walked in, let out a yelp and backed out of the room.  

“Uh, put the kitchen towels in the dryer when you...uh...get a chance” She half-yelled as she scurried down the hall. You couldn’t make eye contact with her for months after that.

With more travel and work, you both didn’t see each other for awhile.  When you did see each other, it was with Ethan and other mutual friends, not leaving you time to be alone.  Grayson’s texts and Snaps were getting needier and needier.  It didn’t help that you were edging him on with sexy photos and suggestive text messages. You weren’t surprised when a bouquet of roses and an airplane ticket to Hawaii arrived at your door a couple weeks ago.  You went out and bought the sexiest lingerie you could find, waxed your entire body, and brushed up on your yoga. You knew that this vacation was going to be the moment.

So, with your legs tossed over Grayson’s shoulders, his pelvis slamming into yours as he balls lightly tapped against your behind, it was like a dream come true. And this was only position number two.  

“God, baby girl...” He grunted. “I have been waiting for this for so long.  Feeling you clenching around me so good. Like you were made for me, baby.”

In your mind you said, “You’re hitting my spot...I’m on fire,” but what really came out was a bunch of loud pleasured noises that could best be described as “Arghhghghshghght.”

Grayson let out a laugh, but it came out as growl, only making you moan more. With all your strength, you pushed into him and he let out a little high pitched surprised “Ah” noise. All those glute bridges were coming in handy. He was deeper inside you than he could even imagine.  He put his hands down on the bed beside your body, bending down to where his hair tickled your forehead. He needed helping balancing and holding back. He didn’t want to cum first during your first time. He had to show that he was a giving, sensual lover.  Up until this point your eyes were closed and you opened them when you felt his presence.

That was it.  Your lustful eyes, your lip plump and red from biting on it, your flushed face, it was too all too much.  He was about to bust.

“F-ck, babe, I’m gonna---”

“Please!” You moaned out, feeling your orgasm taking over as well.  You clenched around him and he lost his breath.  He did his best to keep pumping into you even as your legs fell on the bed weakly.  Your hand reached up to rub his back and he nestled his head in the crook of your neck. Your hips synced up and you both rode your orgasms with the last energy you had. Grayson pulled out and plopped down next to you. 

You both stared at the ceiling, still panting.  He put up his hand to show the number five.

“Five minutes.” He grunted, still out of breath.  “Give me five minutes and I’ll take it from behind.”

“Gray...” You wailed. “Everyone probably already hates us.”

“I don’t really care.” Grayson laughed, but it came out more as a snort. “I’m going to plow into you until you can’t even sit up straight.”

You blushed. “How am I going to look anyone in the eye?”

“After I’m done with you? Probably cross-eyed.” Grayson joked, earning a slap on his stomach.  He pretended to wince, turning to put his back toward you.

You turned as well, wrapping your arm around him.  Your rubbed his tanned abs slowly going between his legs.  Grayson didn’t fight it, pushing his hips forward to give you access.

“Are they finally done?” You heard someone say from outside the door.

“God, it’s like 6 in the morning. How do they have the energy?” Someone else said.

Grayson turned to look at you to meet your wide eyes.  He put one hand to his lips to tell you to keep quiet, and put one hand on yours to keep you pumping his already hardening shaft.

“Oh please.” You heard Ethan make a ‘pfft’ sound, his voice the only one you recognized clearly.  “The amount of pent up frustration between these two...I recommend we take the opportunity to get out of the house now, we won’t see them until 12pm at the earliest.”

Just when you thought your eyes couldn’t get any wider you stared at Grayson with your eyeballs ready to pop out of their socket.  Grayson turned to face you, his cock dangerously hard.  He bit his lower lip and stared at you with his ‘humble brag’ expression. 

“My brother has learned the hard way that I can go all night. Apparently, I can stay up when I have something...beautiful to do.” His hand slipped under your chin to give him a kiss.  “As a truce, I do it in the morning when he’s sleeping and he does it late at night when I’m sleeping.”

“Glad to know the Dolan boys are as pure as they say they are.” You smirked.

“Just so you know, I haven’t hooked up with anyone since I met you.” Grayson smirked.  “For the last year, I’ve been pinning after you and now that I have you, I am going to worship every inch of you. No matter how long it takes.”

“Do I get a say in this?” You teased as Grayson kissed your neck and shoulders.

“Of course,” He grinned against your skin.  “But, good luck getting any words out.”

You frowned and before you knew it, Grayson was between your legs lapping you up like it was the last supper.  You turned into a moaning mess, your fingers entangling themselves in his hair once more.

“F-ck you, Dolan.” You said in your brain, but you knew it came out a gurgled mess because you heard him chuckle into your clit.

[darkheart-brightsmile]

The Eye of The Storm

This was meant to be a drabble and y'know, I got carried away so I introduce part one of my Barson mini-series. Using a prompt from my beautiful Barson Babes on Twitter where Olivia ends up wearing Rafael's clothes.

WC: 2927

Warnings: Mentions of the William Lewis story arc but nothing explicit. Hurt/comfort, mild angst.

Happy reading peeps.

***

He looked up suddenly at the sound of his office door slamming open violently.

“’Liv?”

“There’s a thunderstorm going on outside if you didn’t already know.” she snapped.

Rafael took a second to take in her appearance, she was soaked through to the skin. Her hair was wild and untamed around her shoulders, wisps clinging to her face. Her suit pants were stuck to her legs (he tried not to notice their pleasing shape but failed), her blouse was clinging to her breasts and stomach and her jacket was hanging over her arm, dripping all over his office floor. Despite the fact she looked uncomfortable, cold, and bewildered she still looked as beautiful as she ever did.

“And you decided to take a stroll in it?”

“Not initially.” she smirked, “I was halfway over here when the heavens opened, and I decided to run for it.”

“And the rain clearly beat you.”

“Indeed.” she laughed.

“Well first, you need coffee. Secondly you need to change out of those clothes. You’re not going to get warm and dry if you stay in those.” he gave her a pointed look, spinning on his heel to retrieve a fresh jug of coffee from the machine he kept in his office and pouring them both a cup.

“Oh yes, let me just pull my emergency change of clothes from my bag.” she replied grumpily, taking her cup from him, and gripping it tightly to warm her numb hands.

“I have something you can wear if you want.” he replied, moving behind his desk to the cabinet in the corner and opening the door. He crouched down, obviously looking for something. She watched him curiously wondering what an earth he was going to whip out when she heard an ‘aha’ and a split-second later noticed his grinning face and what looked to be a gym bag held out in one hand.

“I doubt you’d treat your suits like that so what’s in the bag, Counsellor?”

“Gym kit, there’s sweatpants, a t-shirt, I think a hoody and maybe some clean socks?” he replied, looking pleased with himself at being able to save the day.

“I can’t wear your clothes, Rafael.” she replied, frowning, and shaking her head.

“Why on earth not?” he asked aghast, surely, she just wanted to be dry and warm was his first thought.

“You seriously don’t mind?” she replied quietly, looking up to watch his face carefully, knowing immediately if his offer was truly sincere.

“I really don’t. You’re soaking wet and starting to ruin my carpet.” he replied with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood and noted her slight smile at his remark. “At least change into these for now, we can dry your stuff the best we can until the rain stops and you can get home.”

She nodded slowly. “I think that’s a half decent idea. What I mean is, thank you. Where can I, uh, you know?”

“Oh. Yeah, in here. I’ll step out and guard the door.” he cleared his throat and avoided looking at her again, that blouse really was rather transparent when wet, he noted.

Olivia blushed as Rafael moved to hand her the bag, now acutely aware how her wet clothes were clinging to her curves and how, bizarre, it would feel to be wearing his clothes instead. They were friends, close friends, but wearing Rafael’s clothes? She shook that thought off as the door closed behind him and she set about changing.

She knew he wouldn’t barge in; she knew she was in relative privacy, but it didn’t stop her constantly glancing to the door and window (he had closed the blinds before he left) expecting someone to come bursting in or peeking through the glass.

Moving behind his desk felt like the safest option so tugging her boots and socks off first, she unzipped his bag to find sweatpants with a tie waist and breathed a sigh of relief that at least she could make them fit decently.

She stripped off her pants, wincing as the damp fabric now freezing cold, slithered down her legs, her underwear was wet too but that was staying firmly put – one step too far she thought.

Sweatpants on and adjusted at the waist she started unbuttoning her blouse, struggling to peel it from her arms, the rain having saturated the entire garment. She hung it carefully over his desk chair, before yanking off her tank top and placing that over the top. She rummaged around in the bag, finding a plain white t-shirt, and pulled that on quickly, if only to avoid standing in his office in only her bra any longer.

The t-shirt was faded and well-loved and even though she knew it was freshly laundered, it still smelled of him.She breathed it in for a second before pulling the Harvard hoody over her head. She fell back into his desk chair with the socks in hand, when she heard a knock on the door, her head shooting up.

“’Liv? You decent?”

“Yeah! Yeah, come in!” she called out, watching as the door opened and his head hesitantly peeking around, as if he was still worried, she was half naked.

“There you go! You look much better.”

“God, I feel better already.” she sighed, tugging one sock on then the other, “you really are a lifesaver, Rafael.”

“My pleasure.” he replied smoothly, shutting the door, and coming further into the room. “Even if I don’t get to the gym often enough, the clothes have served their purpose today.” he laughed.

She picked up her mug of coffee, waving it in his direction. “Cheers to your clothes saving my ass.”

He laughed whole heartedly at that, picking up his own coffee and taking a sip, trying to steady himself at the sight of her in his clothes – of course she made them look good. The woman could wear a trash bag and look sexy. He smiled gently coming around to perch on the corner of her desk.

“We should hang those up to dry.” he pointed at her things flung across the back of his chair and swallowed deeply at the thought that only moments ago she had been stripping them off.

She stood up to gather her things and he moved past her to retrieve a coat hanger from the same cabinet.

“Really?” she laughed seeing him holding it out to her.

“Like you said, my suits need tender love and care, I keep spares here just in case and always have a spare hanger if I have to send something out to the dry cleaners before I go home.”

“If you send your suit out what do you wear home?” she asked innocently.

His eyes raked over her body, and he gave her a pointed look.

“Oh right.” she laughed, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious.

“That’s when I go to the gym.” he laughed, “if I’m already dressed for it, I’m more likely to actually go.”

“Very savvy.” she laughed in response, manoeuvring her tank top and blouse onto the hanger.

He took it from her, before holding out his other hand for the pants which she frowned out but passed over. She watched him as he crossed the room and opened a small cupboard, she had assumed was storage. He leant forward hanging the hanger up on a rail in the top and laying the pants over what looked like a pipe running through and upwards into the ceiling.

“Dare I ask?” she chuckled.

“The heating pipes for the floor above cut through here, so I basically have a drying cupboard at my disposal. An hour or so and your clothes will be toasty and dry. Very handy for when I’ve been caught in the occasional downpour coming from court too.” he chuckled, shutting the door and refilling his coffee mug.

“I always thought that was just storage.” she replied incredulously.

“The best kept secret about this office.” he smiled, taking a seat on his couch, “Don’t tell anyone else otherwise I’ll be forced to share.”

“You shared the secret with me, not to mention your clothes – I won’t tell anyone, cross my heart.” she replied gently, still grateful that he had come to her rescue.

“You’re not just anyone, ‘Liv.” he said smoothly, shaking his head ever so slightly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” she smiled, blushing again under his intense gaze, something about the look he was giving her turning her insides to jelly.

“It was intended as one.” he murmured softly, patting the space on the couch next to him, hoping that she would join him for a little while. His office always feeling that much brighter when she was in it.

She sighed when she sank into the couch, resting her head back and closing her eyes for a second, and he watched her closely, relishing in the tranquillity of them sitting side by side, not a word uttered between them, just savouring the company.

“Feel better?” he whispered, almost fearful of disturbing her meditative state.

“Mmmm.” she hummed, “not quite dry but much better, thank you.”

“How are you still wet?” he asked, not having thought his question through properly.

She blushed heavily before replying. “Well, I wasn’t taking my underwear off too, Rafael.”

He choked on his coffee, and she covered her mouth to stifle her laughter as he spluttered and used a handkerchief to dab at his shirt and face.

“Sorry.” she said, tilting her head to watch him as he settled back into the couch and started sipping what was left of his now lukewarm beverage.

“No, it’s my fault, shouldn’t have asked. Besides, it’s not like I’ve got anything suitable for you to wear instead.” he smirked.

“I would hope not.” she laughed. “If I had found a bra and women’s underwear in your gym bag there would be some serious questions.”

“I can safely say, in my office and my apartment, there’s not a single item fitting that description.” he knew he didn’t need to add that in about his apartment, but something made him want to tell her, albeit, indirectly, that he wasn’t seeing anyone.

“Really?” she asked, blushing again, and looking down at her feet curled up underneath her knees.

“Yep.” he nodded.

“Okay.” she flashed him the most brilliant smile, before sipping her coffee, her eyes fixed on anything except his face, and he was secretly thrilled that she was so happy he was obviously single. It made his heart leap ever so slightly, just enough to be hopeful.

“Okay then.” he grinned back. Well, that was something.

The rain was still pounding against the windows, the noise echoing through his office as they sat comfortably together on the couch, sipping the last dregs of their coffee. Rafael knew he should be getting back to his work but somehow, he couldn’t find it in him to move away from her.

Olivia for the most part was content thinking her own thoughts, the swell of the storm was ironically relaxing, she actually loved the rain, the smell of the air afterwards, the hypnotic noise as the drops pelted the windows at a steady pace – getting caught in it, not so much, but warm and dry she found herself almost ready to drift off to sleep.

“Hey, you still with me?” he asked quietly, his voice floating across her consciousness. God, she loved his voice.

“Just about.” she groaned, tucking her head further into the cushions of his couch, keeping her eyes closed.

“This couch is surprisingly comfortable to sleep on.” he replied.

“You mean to say the great Rafael Barba occasionally naps whilst at work?” she teased, opening one eye to peer at him and seeing him smirk at her question.

“More like collapsed in exhaustion and woken up the next morning.” he chuckled.

“You really are committed to your work aren’t you!” she laughed.

“I can count on one hand the number of times it’s happened, but it’s only been when your squad has been in crisis.”

“That’s strangely comforting. When was the last time?” she asked quietly, now curious what would constitute him needing to kip in his office rather than trudge home.

He cleared his throat and glanced at her quickly before he spoke. “Uh, William Lewis.”

“Oh.” She replied quietly, desperately pushing those memories back down to the dark depths they were surfacing from, the gun, Russian roulette, having to hold the trigger to her temple, his eyes burning into hers, then the blood after he pulled the trigger – no. She gritted her teeth and swallowed back the tears. She would not let him ruin her day. She spent too much time focussing on staying calm and rational, he would not be allowed to ruin this evening for her.

“I’m sorry, ‘Liv, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. It happened, there’s nothing either of us can do about that. And he’s dead. Living with the memories is the hardest part but that’s why I have a good therapist.” she finished with a small smile and shrug, but he could feel the mixed emotions and tension radiating from her body.

He tentatively stretched out his hand to hold hers that was tugging at the knees of his sweatpants, clasping his fingers in his warm palm. She sighed again, looking up him slowly from under her eyelashes and he was heartbroken to see tears prickling in the corner of hers.

“You amaze me sometimes, Olivia.”

She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. “How?” she chuckled.

“Because despite the horrors you’ve seen and experienced, the pure terror you’ve seen in your life, you keep going, you’ve never given up. And I don’t know how many people that would be able to do that in your position. They would lock themselves away and let it tear them apart from the inside, and you never have done. And that is incredible, Olivia. You are incredible.”

It was the most heartfelt thing he had ever said to her, and her heart thumped wildly in her chest as he smiled gently at her and squeezed her hand tighter.

“I thought you didn’t want me to cry.” she choked out, the tears now falling down her face at his passionate speech and he shrugged and looked sheepish.

“Depends on whether they’re happy tears or sad tears.��� he smiled, handing her his handkerchief.

“They’re ‘that was a lovely thing to say’ tears.” she laughed through her sobs as she dabbed at her eyes and wiped her nose. She thought she looked awful now, her mascara was probably running down her face and her eyes were sure to be puffy and red. He still thought she looked as beautiful as ever.

She moved onto her knees and suddenly without warning threw herself around his neck and squeezed him into a huge hug. He was shocked for a second before he realised, she was obviously okay with him touching her, so his arms came around her waist and he tucked her closer into his body, her face curled into his neck.

“Thank you.” she whispered into his skin, and he felt another tingle run down his back. He breathed in deeply, surrounding himself with her scent, something flowery, and subtle but so alluring.

“You’re welcome.” he murmured into her neck, pulling back to press a delicate kiss to her temple as she slid to curl into his side for a few more moments.

“The rain’s stopped.” he murmured into her hair as she tucked herself closer, her arms wrapped around herself, and his one arm around her shoulders, holding her into his body.

Later, once she had changed clothes again, he was struck but just how special she really was. She never let anyone see her like that, he knew that well enough – she projected calm, certainty and control. So, the fact she had broken down in tears and thrown herself into his arms was a sign that their friendship was one that she valued, that she embraced, that really meant something to her. He was touched by that.

He had stepped out for her to change and returned when she had said it was safe to do so. She had put her own pants and shoes back on but had kept his socks on, his t-shirt and hoody on at his insistence that it was warmer, and she could return them whenever she liked. She folded up her own things carefully and tucked them into his gym bag which she had decided she was going to take with her. Gathering up her bag and phone.

“Well, thank you for my coffee, and the loan of your clothes, and the pep talk.” she smiled, as she reached his door and he grabbed the handle, to keep it open for her.

“I would never leave a damsel in distress.” he smirked.

“So, what does that make you? Prince Charming?”

“Charming is one thing I can definitely be.” he murmured quietly, as if he was letting her in on a secret. He tilted his head slightly just enough to kiss her cheek and let his lips graze her skin as he pulled away. “Goodnight, ‘Liv.”

She squeezed his hand one last time. “Night, Rafa.”

She could feel his eyes on her back all the way to the elevator, but she refused to turn around. If she turned around, she wasn’t sure what would have happened, what she would have done, and that thought stayed with her all night and trailed into her dreams.

***

@igreg04 @mhargitay64 @tinyboxxtink @lauchasstuff @nippow @chasingeverybreakingwave @i-run-with-scissors39 @barsonlover2021 @michael-rooker @alwaysachorusgirl @storiesofsvu @chunex @klk1618 @simpforbarba @dubuforeveralone @zizzlekwum @tinyboxxtink@human––tragedy @a-queen-of-chaos @raulesparza4eva @thatesqcrush

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Just Swimmingly ch.2 (BAON)

Summary: Jeff has a lot to think about and what better place to do it than at the bar with his best buddy, Stretch?

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Established Relationships,  Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags To Come

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

The night wasn’t as young as it used to be, but to be fair, neither was Jeff. After a few hours of sitting on a bar stool, his tailbone would be more than willing to testify on that.

He leaned back against the bar in an effort to take some of his weight off of it, grimacing as he watched the dance floor. Colored lights flashed to the thrumming bass beat over the gyrating dancers and out in the thrashing sea of sweaty human bodies there was a head that was above almost all of them. Stretch towered over most humans and never was it more obvious than right then. The lights reflected off his smooth skull, a living disco ball, and around him other humans were laughing and cheering as they danced.

Edge would be having a conniption right about now and Jeff was a little bemused to find his anxiety having an internal dance competition of its own. Currently it was at ‘chachacha’ levels, watching all those Humans grinding up on Stretch. He didn’t want to think anyone here would hurt Stretch, intentionally or otherwise, but the threat of low HP always loomed. His trust in humanity took a pretty big dip a few months ago outside a Chinese restaurant and he had the scars to prove it.

Jeff took another sip of his drink. His straw crackled against the bottom of the glass as he finished it off, leaving only lonely ice cubes behind and he set it back on the bar as he settled back in for a little spare contemplation.

If he were honest, wasn’t a huge fan of the club scene even before he started dating Antwan. Not that he didn’t like going out but his problems with it were twofold. One, bars sucked to go to alone and back then he didn’t have a lot of real estate in the friend territory and two, it cost money. His disposable cash in those days was a lot like a pink unicorn: nonexistent.

Being friends with Stretch took care of both of those problems but a third loomed up to take their place like an unwanted acquaintance. Put bluntly, Jeff could not dance and until Kevin Bacon showed up to give him a few lessons, he probably wasn’t gonna learn how.

Not that he really minded that much. Guarding their drinks and listening to the music wasn’t a bad way to spend the night.

Besides, Stretch didn’t seem to care if he wasn’t up to evacuating the dance floor. He mostly let Jeff sit at the bar where he tried to look like someone with deep and mysterious thoughts to process instead of the person he actually was, far more likely to accidently spill his drink into his lap than anything else. On either side of him were other people doing the same, a row of wallflowers watching the dance floor with wistful envy.

Mostly Stretch left him to it but sometimes he’d bounce his way back and haul Jeff out for a song, any song, fast, slow, techno-bop, dubstep, didn’t matter to Stretch, he was an equal opportunist when it came to friendly torment and if Jeff felt a lot like Frankenstein’s monster tromping around next to Stretch’s lithe booty shake, eh, that was okay. Sacrificing a little dignity for a friend’s fun times was part of the package.

As far as he knew, Stretch didn’t go out to the clubs often either, but if there was one thing Jeff had learned when it came to Stretch, it was there were no half-measures. If he was in, he was all in, and that included drinking, dancing, and on the weekends, the occasional explosion caused by a thermal reaction. Truly a wide variety of hobbies came into play when hanging out with Stretch and going out to the bars pretty much guaranteed something interesting would happen.

Like the time they met those guys who’d come into town for the last beat poetry night. One of them mentioned liking Stretch’s Intergalactic Beastie Boys t-shirt so Stretch convinced them all to swap shirts and then swapped them around again, until they were all three shirts removed from the one they’d arrived in. Pants were a harder sell and if Stretch were ever hard up for money, he might take up selling ice to penguins because in no time they were all out on the sidewalk, firmly dismissed from Grillby’s over their rampant laughter drowning out the poet’s rambling about the burden of solitude. The Waffle House they ended up at had a less stringent dress code and all of them crammed into a booth to eat greasy breakfast food at two am in their boxer shorts. At least those were all their own and his plain cotton boxer briefs were no match against Stretch’s ‘wanna tickle my pickle’ pair.

He was pretty sure all those guys still followed Stretch on twitter.

He wondered what Edge had thought of Stretch wandering home in an entirely new wardrobe, minus pants. There was no way he didn’t notice, Edge was very intent on fashion, even Stretch’s version of it. Knowing him, he probably made Stretch strip right in the living room and soaked both him and his clothes in Lysol before burning his boxer shorts. The old-new t-shirt Jeff ended up with was hanging in closet even though it was two sizes too big for him. Antwan stole it sometimes for lounging around the house purposes and seeing him in it was always a cheap thrill.

Huh, now that he was thinking about it, he’d gone to the bar more this past year than in his whole life before. Not just with Stretch either, Blue and Papyrus had brought him along for karaoke a few times and that was an experience right there. Their singing was like a vocal interpretation of his dancing and just as painful for witnesses.

He’d even had a drink a couple of times with Red. Well, he’d been a tag along with Antwan but still. Red was still vaguely terrifying, but Jeff had gotten the occasional glimpse under his onion layers. He knew a little of what Edge and Red went through before they came here. His knowledge pretty much barely skimmed the surface, they’d both been soldiers and they might’ve gotten out alive, but not entirely unscathed. Knowing Red’s HP was similar to Stretch’s and he’d still survived? Perspective was a hell of a thing and it paid to look at Red from a slant.

Speaking of perspective, he was definitely liking the music. They were a local band and this place was close to the college, a good spot to hopefully get noticed and work their way up. The bar itself had probably been here for fifty years, the bartop pitted with scratches and scars from college students of yore, the stools definitely up for reupholstering.

It was really no surprise to find out that Stretch knew the current owner. He knew loads of people, wriggled his way into their lives a lot like he’d wriggled into Jeff’s. Only difference was, he didn’t usually let the other person wriggle back and yeah, okay, that metaphor was going in weird places, but the meaning stood. Stretch was good with shortcuts and he knew a lot of people, but he wasn’t necessarily friends with a lot. Jeff was pretty happy to be on the short list.

Knowing people came in handy, too, and bringing Stretch along always came with added perks. Catty only asked him to listen to the bands on the list to get a feel for their sound, but he’d be able to bring her a better report than that since they were going to go meet the band after their set was done. It would give him a chance feel them out, see if they were even interested in participating in the Midnight Monster Jamboree, as Catty had slyly dubbed it. After everything went down in California, they needed some serious good will.

The Monster community had been found not at fault for what happened right away, but Antwan told him court cases would be dragging on for a while yet. When Humans died, other Humans wanted someone to pay, and Monsters were easy scapegoats for unreasonable anger. His team was working their butts off on it, Antwan coming home at night so very tired, mostly falling into Jeff’s arms to sleep and yet still so grimly determined. Jeff couldn’t do much about all that, but he could try his damnedest to get their big public relations event off the ground.

The idea was to have a huge event for Humans and Monsters together and for it to be held in New New Home. Asgore thought that some of the problems with Humans might be a result of them thinking Monsters had something to hide, so what better way to show them who Monsters really were than a chance to see into their supposedly secret lives.

Jeff was on the lowest rung for planning and even from his view, it looked like a nightmare. Security details made up of both Human and Monsters, background checks, food, entertainment. Access was going to be extremely limited and the guest list was daunting; there were going to be some big names in politics and entertainment. That circled back to his job, getting some local bands together for the opening shows. Partly good public relations, but also an earnest desire to help out a few struggling locals with the kind of exposure most groups could only dream about. That was so like Monsters, trying to help others in the midst of helping themselves, but it sure was a lot of damn pegs getting shoved into so many slots.

He didn’t even want to know what Edge’s current schedule looked like.

There was a soft thud behind him and Jeff turned to see the bartender was bringing him another drink. The guy was probably somewhere around his age, unless you were gauging it by his world-weary expression, which probably put him at about right around three hundred.

He must’ve known Stretch, too. When they saw each other, he youthened to a spry two hundred and seventy after a complicated series of fist bumps. As an added bonus, he’d been keeping their drinks topped up and as someone who usually couldn’t even get a bartender to see him much less pour him a drink, Jeff sure did appreciate the VIP service.

He started reaching for his drink, but a sudden tap on his shoulder startled him. He turned around. A guy he didn’t recognize was standing there, not too bad on the eyes and weirdly nervous, enough that Jeff thought he might actually be trying to pick him up before he noticed the guy was holding something out.

“Did you drop this?” the guy said, barely loud enough to be heard over the music. It was a wallet and Jeff automatically checked his back pocket even as his eyes told him it wasn’t his.

He shook his head and the guy nodded, but instead of asking anyone else or handing it to the bartender, he wandered off towards the entrance.

Okay, that was odd. Jeff shrugged mentally, lots of weird people at the bar, maybe he was going to give it to the guy at the door in case whoever lost it noticed when they left.

He forgot about it as Stretch came back from the dance floor, sweat gleaming on his skull and face. That always gave Jeff a little pause, what exact purpose did sweating serve for a skeleton? Maybe he’d ask sometime when he was less busy with work. If Stretch didn’t know the answer to something, the journey to find out tended to be entertaining, and possibly less explosive this time around, although he wouldn’t put the chances at zero.

Stretch grinned at him, still panting, and picked up his own drink, gulping down half of it in one swallow. Jeff couldn’t remember was it was. Stretch tended to order more for the name than the taste, so it was probably something like a slippery nipple or a total screaming orgasm. Whatever it was, a skewer of fruit was floating in it and Stretch fished it out, pulling the cherry off the end with his teeth.

“so what do you think of the band?” Stretch asked, perfectly audible even over the loud music. There was another point of interest; when your voice was produced by magic, it didn’t always obey the rules of sound. “gonna give catty the thumbs up?

“I like it,” Jeff shrugged. He could barely hear his own voice, trusting that magical hearing worked the same way as speaking, “but I’m not the greatest judge of music. That’s why I bring you along.”

Stretch chuckled and propped his elbows on the bar, slouching back. It put him almost at head level with Jeff and the shirt he’d almost certainly borrowed from Edge pulled tight across his ribcage. “think i’m a better simon cowell than you?”

“No, you’re more Paula Abdul, and anyway, two heads are better than one.” Jeff played with the straw in his own drink. “Jokes aside, this is important, I don’t want to mess it up.”

“you’re not gonna mess it up.” Stretch scoffed. He bit a chunk of pineapple in half before polishing off the rest of his drink. “how even? you’re doing double-duty as it is. henry said once they’re finished, we can meet them backstage. i’ll have a chat with them, we’ll see if they’re assholes, and good to go! besides, it’s not like security isn’t gonna give ‘em a good, hard rundown, anyway.”

It was the truth and he knew it, but there was always that niggling little doubt in the back of his mind, that somehow he’d find a way to mess it up, and that would be it. This was so important to the Monster community and his chance to finally payback some of what’d they’d given him. He could do this, Jeff told himself, and he’d do it right.

The band started a new set, something with a low, growling bassline and Jeff turned back to watch, only to freeze as Stretch suddenly spoke again, the single word clear as a bell in church.

“jeff.”

The name caught his attention as much as the tone, Stretch never called him Jeff, it was always Andy or kiddo or whatever nickname was currently floating his proverbial boat. The last time he’d called Jeff by his actual name, he’d been lying in a parking lot in a pool of his own blood. The taste of hot metal was strong on the back of his tongue as he turned back to Stretch, his heart pounding, and some cringing part of him expected to see that friendly face instead as the one that appeared sometimes in his worst dreams, a deathmask with one socket dark and blank, the other strobing orange with grim intensity.

But Stretch only looked like his normal self and when he spoke again, each word was calmly measured and deliberate. "i don't feel right. i think we should go."

Somehow, that was even more alarming, and his worry quickly overshadowed any lingering bad memories that were vying for his attention.

“Sure,” Jeff said, “right now.” He hopped down from the stool. Stretch pushed off from the bar and staggered, leaning hard against Jeff and thank fuck he was light because his height already made it awkward to hold him up. He started to call for the bartender, maybe there was someplace they could sit down in the back while he called Edge, when another guy came up next to them, helping hold Stretch up. Then another on Jeff’s side and he started to protest that he didn’t need help when a voice growled close to his ear.

"Don’t look at me. Keep your mouth shut or I'll kill you."

It was followed by the sensation of something hard butting into his ribs and this could not be happening. This did not happen in the real world, this wasn’t a Jason Bourne movie, there could not be a gun pressed to his side right now. Even his own fear was sitting on the sidelines, pushed out by disbelief as Jeff stumblingly followed the guiding arm around him leading towards the door. The crowd reluctantly parted and next to them, Stretch was shuffling along, his eye lights blown wide and fuzzily diffused. He started sagging, his skull lolling back on his shoulders and around them were murmurs, people starting to notice.

“Hey, what’s going on? Stretch?” From the direction of the bar, and Jeff glanced back wildly to catch the bartender watching with dawning concern. There was no time to say a word, to even mouth a desperate ‘help’ before he was forcibly swung back around and pushed through the door.

The cold night air was like a slap in the face, sobering, and fear was starting to sink its teeth in past his disbelief. The guy next to him was keeping back out of his line of sight and he could only barely see the one on Stretch, dark hair, taller, burly, did he have a gun, too, who were they and why—?

By the entrance, the bouncer looked up in surprise as they walked past. “Hey, Stretch, you guys, okay?”

“Fuck off!” The man holding onto Jeff barked and the gun swung towards the bouncer. There was a beat of incongruous silence broken by the strains of music coming from inside the bar, then a girl screamed, the waiting crowd scattering.

“Fuck! Get them in the car!” A different voice, loud and panicky and he caught another glimpse of dark hair before he was shoved forward again. He stumbled, almost falling to his knees among the cigarette butts that scattered the asphalt, and the memory of another parking lot was strong, the swell of panic gagging him.

He didn’t resist as he was pushed towards a van, the side door sliding open and then he was inside it, collapsing across the backseat.

Weight dropped directly on top of him with a clatter of bones and Jeff grunted, trying to push Stretch off of him enough to sit up. Only to lose his balance again as the van squealed away from the curb, the tangle of his own limbs catching with Stretch’s limp ones.

A new voice barked from the direction of the driver’s seat. “Get their phones, hurry up!”

Rough hands grabbing at them, and Jeff instinctively tried to recoil, but there was nowhere to go. His phone was yanked from his pocket and Stretch didn’t say a word, only breathing with a slurry snore into Jeff’s ear. There was the sound of a power window going down, of tires squealing against asphalt and the inside of the van was too dark to see.

Not that it mattered. Rough hands hauled Jeff upright and the person they belonged to was wearing a ski mask like a fucking heist cliché. Jeff choked back a hysterical laugh, but even panicked amusement took a backseat when ski mask demanded, “Okay, both of you need to strip.”

Jeff only stared in mute horror, barely comprehending as a duffle bag was suddenly thrust at them.

“Change into these,” Ski Mask ordered, “Don’t get any funny ideas.”

There was a pun there, Stretch would have been able to think of one. Would have if he wasn’t lying slumped across the seat. His sockets were still open, but his eye lights were dim and unseeing, the lights were on and no one was home, not quite a pun but it’d have to do.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” Jeff said. He tried not to look at the guy with the gun as he carefully opened the duffle and pulled out the clothes inside, choosing his words with the same care. “He’s…he’s fragile, just a punch and you could kill him. Please.”

“Then don’t make us do anything that’ll get him hurt.”

Good advice from a shitty source.

Jeff scrambled into the oversized t-shirt and sweatpants in the bag, then helped the other…what, kidnapper? Asshole was the strongest contender in his head and that was what Jeff went with. Helped Asshole #2 get Stretch change into his. The guy was brusque but not ungentle, at least, and the second they were finished, the van pulled up next to a dumpster. A fourth asshole sitting in the front seat hopped out, tossing all their clothes plus the bag into it. Four against two, not including guns, not the best odds. Like Jeff would have been much help even if it were mano a mano. He sure as hell wasn’t a fighter past panicked desperation and he wasn’t about to hinge Stretch’s life on that.

“Now, sit back and relax,” said Asshole With A Gun. “You two behave and no one gets hurt, okay?”

Jeff knew a lie when he heard one. He nodded anyway and huddled into the seat, one arm looped around Stretch to offer what feeble protection he could. His skull resting in Jeff’s lap was a familiar weight from movie nights and Netflix marathons. His unconsciousness was not, but he was alive, they both were. It was a place to start.

Jeff kept silent, petting the smooth curve of Stretch’s skull as he watched the streetlights flash by and waited to see what came next.

tbc

[anntoldst0ries]

Diagnosis

I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart to all of you who read my previous fic and left such kind comments. You can’t imagine how much I appreciate this!

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Vicky Valentine)

Word Count: 2,911

Summary: Dr Ramsey attempts to diagnose the most difficult case in his career...his own.

Warnings: None! A lot of introspection again and hints of angst :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ethan Ramsey considered himself a brave man.

He always had the courage to say whatever he wanted to say or what had to be said - be that a terminal diagnosis, savaging someone’s speech at a medical conference (only if the speaker was talking nonsense, that is), scolding an intern - you name it. 

With years of experience under his belt, Dr Ramsey excelled at the “art” of saying the most horrible, unpleasant and inconvenient things. It was a process he took to pieces and mastered every tiniest part.

He knew exactly what they were whispering behind his back in the hospital corridors. Dr Ramsey is a bully. A ruthless cynic. No one survived more than 3 minutes of his tirades without bursting into tears. Or, as some of the interns so lovingly put it, he was “the only survivor of a heart transplant”. The last remark had been conveyed to him by Baz, who found it hilarious…and so did Naveen. It took one deadly look to silence Baz forever, however Naveen used every occasion to remind his protégé of hospital’s favourite joke:

‘How’s your heart, Ethan?’

‘Good, why are you as—‘ Ethan didn’t have a chance to finish answering the question, interrupted by Dr Banerji who was in convulsions.

‘God, Naveen, for such a bright mind and one of the best doctors in the world, I still find it hard to believe that you have a sense of humour of a 5 year old’

‘There is nothing wrong with some joy, Ethan. You should try it sometimes, it may do you good.’

Similar conversations took place on a regular basis, but they always ended with Ethan rolling his eyes and Naveen sighing. Younger doctor would never, ever tell his mentor off, he respected him too much. So Ethan let Dr Banerji have some fun at his expense from time to time.

But, truth be told, he kept his emotions at a leash and he was good at it, because there wasn’t a thing in Ethan’s life that he wasn’t good at. Regardless of what it was - saving people’s lives or emotional self-deprivation.

That’s why reminiscing past 2 years was so hard for accomplished diagnostician. He couldn’t help but think that he’s lived more during this time than he’s lived during his whole life. His existence wasn’t a boring one, he loved his job and the cases that the team had to crack were mostly complex and thus exciting. There was also a sense of fulfilment and servitude to a greater cause.

As a kid, Ethan wanted to be a detective. It all started with Alan buying his son one of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s books. There was no hidden intention in this choice - Alan simply ran out of book ideas, Ethan was literally gobbling up the books at his disposal and was thirsty for more. Therefore, Mr Ramsey picked picked one of the thickest positions available in the book shop, with hopes it will keep Ethan occupied for at least a couple of weeks. Oh, how wrong he was - 5 days later his son was already begging for more.

Sherlock Holmes and Hercules Poirot quickly took the top spot on the list of Ethan’s childhood heroes. He was obsessed with their investigative methods, their sharp minds that captured even the tiniest of details and how missing those nuances would make solving a mystery a lot harder, if not impossible. 

That’s why he became obsessed with details. He analysed, compared, observed and noted down everything around him with deliberation. After a while, Ethan realised that these skills come handy in various areas of life. He could read people and to a degree foresee what their next move was going to be. If he wanted to, he could probably try and influence their decisions too. If it wasn’t for Alan’s upbringing, this particular skill might have taken his life onto a dark track, but fortunately he utilised it for greater good.

Having this sort of insight made him very self-conscious and he never turned away from reliving his own decisions and behaviours, which helped him become a better doctor, every single day. But he never wallowed in the mud of emotions, instead always operating on facts.

But for the past couple of months, this process became a pure torture. 

You know what they say, the devil is in the detail. And the devil it was indeed. 

The devil that would be the death of Ethan was 5’4, had raven hair, plumped lips, mesmerising eyes and a captivating laugh. 

Suddenly, he heard the devil’s voice in his head.

‘Are you pinching the bridge of your nose right now?’ 

He was.

‘God dammit!’ - shouted Ethan, so loud that he startled poor Jenner, who resigned from occupying the sofa and ran straight to his bed. Even the retriever, in his doggy wisdom, knew that when his master was upset, it was best to stay out of his sight and wait for the storm to pass.

Whenever Dr Ramsey had a serious dilemma, he would subtly join his thumb and index finger to pinch the gentle skin between eyes. She knew of this somewhat subconscious habit and teased him about it countless times. 

With most people, the whole observing and reading process was a one-sided game. For majority of mortals, Ethan was a closed book and they had no idea how to open, let alone read it. But not Rookie. She saw right through him. Ethan considered himself a riveting mystery thriller before, if we’re talking comparisons, but right now he was probably a cheap Harlequin. How did he sink so low in practically no time?

The answer came before he was even able to finish the question.

He was hopelessly, utterly and irreversibly in love with Dr Vicky Valentine.

“Victoria….” he whispered. He knew her full name, he’s read her bloody application and her employee file many, many times. More than he’d ever care to admit. Neither him nor anyone else addressed her by her full name. She always introduced herself as Vicky and even mentioned to him, June & Baz one time that she considered herself too young to be a bearer of such gracious name. But when the name fell out of his lips, it made perfect sense. Victoria. Victory. After a long, tough and heartbreaking battle, she’s won all of him. And man, wasn’t she fighting fiercely. 

She was so much like him, and yet so different. Patients loved her, and for a good reason - not only was she amazing at her job, but also so genuinely caring about every patient she met. Somehow, she was able to see past people weary of their conditions, instead she always noticed the human beings with their unique stories. Thanks to her, patients never felt like sickness became their identity, but merely a stage in their life that shall soon pass. 

Hospital staff adored her as well, she had time and a huge smile for everyone; her bright aura lit up every room she walked into and was a pleasure to be around. 

Those who knew Ethan a bit better or worked with him were aware of the insanely high standards he was holding himself to. And it would have been fine if they only applied to him, but he held everyone else to the same standard too. It was his buffer. Most gave up without even trying, it was humanly impossible to live up to such expectations. And that was the goal. Dr Ramsey wanted no distractions and if anyone wanted so much as approach him, they had a giant wall to jump over first.

But the young intern wasn’t bothered in the slightest. Dozens of people before her stood in front of the wall and tried to figure out how to get in. And she… she just found a tiny gap and squeezed right through. Before Ethan realised what’s going on, it was already too late. And she wasn’t even fully aware of what she’s done.

Like air, she’s entered his life imperceptibly, filling every space until there was nothing else. She was in every reflection he saw, every smile, every freaking thing a reminder of her, one way or another.

He was completely under her spell, enchanted, drunk in the thought of her.

The most ironic part was that if he went by his unreasonable standards, she’d never stand a chance.

She was messy, she was a klutz, she laughed too loud and rounded her eyes like a child when something seriously excited her.

And yet, something about her made him break all of his rules, lower his guard and re-think everything he’s ever thought he knew and believed in. 

Obviously, he wouldn’t be himself if the occupational quirk did not kick in at some point. Whatever the cause, Dr Ramsey had to get to the bottom of it, no matter how many tests did he have to run on his mind and heart. He needed the diagnosis so he could start the treatment. But his sharp diagnostic skills which made him a famous man, suddenly decided to go on unplanned vacation and it looks like they were not coming back anytime soon.

Ambivalence became Ethan’s newest companion. Some days, he thought he was going to blow his brains out, the others he was strangely content and did not want to analyse anything, things were good just as they were.

For the first time in his life, he felt truly lost. He felt like Jon Snow, he knew nothing. It wasn’t a result of one event, rather a chain reaction. Starting with Naveen getting sick, the inability to figure out what was wrong with his mentor made Ethan seriously doubt his capabilities as a doctor. Then, Louise Ramsey made a surprise reappearance after having walked out on him and his dad 25 years earlier. When he was little, his dad use to say that wherever Louise goes, trouble follows and it wasn’t any different this time. She brought company - insecurity, sorrow, resentment - to name just a few. Ethan felt like someone ripped a band aid from his heart and painfully reminded him that all the wounds are still alive and never really healed. 

And finally, Edenbrook. The place that others saw as walls, glass, beds, people in white coats, sickness, illness, death. To him, it was much, much more. The hospital had almost a transcendental dimension. It was here that Ethan’s transition had been completed. He shed his old skin and became Dr Ramsey, the person he was always meant to be.

That’s why Edenbrook closing hit him so hard - a part of him was about to die and be buried beneath years of sweat, tears and effort. It was probably the hardest thing to come to terms with in the 37 years that he’s been walking on the surface of the Earth.

And throughout all these events, she was with him.

She never gave up on Naveen and Ethan knew that there was more to it than just saving Edenbrook’s most prominent doctor. He believed, he wanted to believe that she did this for him too. 

The memory brought shame that drained off him like unpleasant wave of cold water. Ethan never really forgave himself for just laying in his bed like a drunk bag of potatoes, whilst she was busting her gut to solve the case, even though she had ethics hearing to prepare for. A hearing that could make or break her whole career, before she even had a chance to start.

Dr Ramsey would like to think they were alike. But as a matter of fact, she was a much better person than him.

Then, with his mother in the picture, she never told him what to do. Even though he asked, many times. He hoped someone can actually make the decision for him, because it hurt so much to even think about this, let alone decide what to do next. But she never did. She was just there and by simply being, she empowered him to make his own, informed decision. 

She was there, like no one else was in his entire life. Not to take anything from Naveen, who had tremendous effect on Ethan’s life - but this was completely different.

She penetrated his soul.

She made him feel.

Love.

It was the first time he used this word in a long, long time. 

And maybe, quite possibly, for the first time in his life he used it with intention. 

He thought he felt it once before. 

When he was a student at Johns Hopkins, Ethan met Camille. She was a year older than him, with angelic voice and looks, the cascade of blond locks surrounding her gentle facial features like a halo. 

What impressed him was that she kept hitting up on him, not the other way round. He’s had his mind set on graduating as a top student in his class and then getting the best residency there was - in Edenbrook hospital in Boston. It was either him or someone else. University romances were of no interest to him, or so he thought. After all, he’s just gone past his teenage years and was relatively new to the world of intimate human desires. As much as he tried to push them away, he had needs and his hormones were still a giant part of his decision-making process, doesn’t matter how hard he tried denying it.

Also, there was something motherly about her and she reminded him of the woman who left him when he was just a boy. It was completely fucked-up, he hated his mother and yet a memory of her and how he’d once do anything for her was tattooed in the insides of his brain.

Ethan and Camille shared a passion for medicine, music and opera. A few times, he was close to bringing her down to Providence, to introduce her to Alan, his father. But there was this weird voice in his head stopping him. 

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t overly surprised when one day he walked on Camille. In his bed. Screaming and making other explicit sounds…except, he wasn’t the igniter. It was none other than his best friend at the time, Tobias. Ethan would never forget the jealous glance he shot him with when he first brought Camille to one of the student parties. And then things got worse. Ethan and Tobias always competed and for a long time it was a fuel that kept them both going. But when someone wins, someone has to lose. Neither of them was good at losing or accepting the failure. 

Ethan was doing better than his best friend. Not significantly better, the difference between them had usually been slight, but it was there. Tobias couldn’t swallow this. Not only was Ethan doing better than him, he also had one of the most beautiful students at Hopkins by his side. Jealousy started to spread inside him like a wildfire and since his attempts to beat Ethan at school were futile, he decided to make use of his other skills. Tobias was a born flirter and charmer. He often used to say that no woman can resist his spell and that “where there’s a woman - there’s a way.”

Dr Ramsey never told anyone, but having found out that his girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend was sort of relief. Call it sixth sense, an intuition… subconsciously he sort of felt that she wasn’t a girl for him. As for Tobias, he was tired of the fight….of Tobias fighting with him, that is. Ethan wasn’t fighting, he was just a better student and was going to be a better doctor. He was tired of petty competition and how the toxin poisoned their relationship.

So they actually made him a favour and helped him killed 2 birds with 1 stone - he was saved from having an awkward break-up conversation that he’s never went through before and he now had every right to hate Tobias. He didn’t really, as such feelings were a waste of energy, but a week later Tobias moved out of their shared apartment and they never really spoke again.

After Camille, he was only in a brief relationship once. With Harper. He deeply admired and respected her, but when things started getting too serious (from her side), he distanced himself. And so, for a couple of years to follow, they were on the off and on again terms. They went through countless friends with benefits stages, but he genuinely enjoyed her company. They just never wanted the same things, which became more and more evident as she was getting older. And he respected her too much to mess her around.

Ethan’s career was everything to him and he accepted the fact that falling in love and having a family is just not in the cards for him.

Or so he thought.  

Dr Valentine entered his life one September morning and hasn’t left ever since. And, hell, hasn’t he tried to erase her. To make her hate him. To draw a line between work and personal life. He could honestly say that he tried everything.

For the love of God, he ran to fucking Amazon! He tried to hide from all things Dr Valentine, like a fool who forgot one of the most basic rules of life: there is no running away from yourself. 

Tag list (please let me know if you wish to be removed): @terrm9 @openheart12 @openheartthot @rookie-ramsey @alwaysmychoices @brooks-eden @drethanramslay @starrystarrytrouble @justanotherrookie @caseyvalentineramsey@incorrectopenheart @heauxplesslydevoted @perriewinklenerdie @mercury84choices @archxxronrookie @renasalek-blog @maurine07 @whippedforethanfreakingramsey @lemonmiddleton @tsrookie @choicesfan10 @dr-colossal-pita @queencarb @gryffindordaughterofathena @qrkowna @aarisa-frost @choicesficwriterscreations

[crowtrinkets]

Wet Cobblestone

The Apprentice works as Julian's apprentice, but they're having a hard time dealing with the reality of the Red Plague. They miss Asra and try to find comfort in... other forms.

Julian and GN!Apprentice

Word Count: 4,095

Warning: Drinking to cope and big sad

(Am I writing to avoid responsibilities? Yes)

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Wet cobblestone. It's never really a thing you pay attention to, not unless you’re trying to forget something. Something so heart-wrenchingly cruel and painful that you’ll pay attention to the sounds of your boots sauntering across wet cobblestone. Trying to clear your mind after condemning someone to death. Life was easy when I was simply a magician, before the plague, before Asra, before I became a doctor’s apprentice. I didn’t think it would be this difficult, I thought I could cure the plague. But at this point, it’s become a wave, and it’s going to swallow this city whole. I should have left.

The bell jingling on the door of Julian's clinic snaps me out of my thoughts. I didn’t even realize I had already made my way across town from my house call. I was returning from a patient visit. It wasn’t a good one. I remove my mask and take a deep sigh, wiping the sweat off my skin, it may be cold out in Vesuvia but wearing a mask for hours takes its toll. I drop my mask onto Julian's desk as I walk into the back supply room. A wave of emotions overtakes me as I feel my heart racing in my chest. I take a deeply pained gasp trying to compose myself, but it only wills the tears into falling faster. The aching pain in my heart manifests itself in my sobs, I cover my mouth with my leather gloved hand trying to stifle it. Falling to my knees I sob silently. Mourning the victims, mourning myself, mourning my confidence. Did I really think I could cure the plague? Me? A lowly magician? One who couldn’t even manage a relationship, and drove my once chance away.

The wind howls outside, whistling as it makes its way through the drafts of Julian’s clinic. I continue to cry but not as hard. It always goes like this, I hide, I cry, I stop and I go back to work. Slowly standing, I sniffle and wipe my face with my sleeve. I then hear footsteps and start to frantically dry my eyes. I can’t let Julian see me like this, he always tries to take the burden of my pain and I can't let him do that, he’s already too busy. Still wiping my face I quickly walk out of the supply closet but run head-on into the man in front of me.

“Oh my! Oh hello there MC? Oh uh… are you alright?” It's Julian. I avoid looking at him, hoping he doesn’t see the redness of my eyes, stinging from my tears. I slowly nod.

“Yes… I’m alright Julian, thank you,” I slowly back away but he brings an arm around my shoulder.

“Come, I think we both deserve some tea, hm?” He guides me to the clinic kitchen. It's small and has an even smaller chair with a few tables. But it's cozy and a perfect place for tea, and for becoming existential on those especially hard days. I sit at the table and Julian approaches the stove. He fills the kettle with water and searches for matches to light the wood-fire stove.

“Hrm uh, I can’t seem to find the uh… would you mind?” Before he can finish I give Julian a quick nod as I approach the stove. Opening the hatch I use my magic to create a modest fire.

“Ahh, thank you, my dear, I knew having a magician as an apprentice would come in handy,” Julian winks, it causes me to give a small smile, but in an instant, it's gone, and I turn to take my place back at the table. Julian takes to standing by the stove, almost like he thinks watching the pot will cause the water to boil faster. It does not matter to me, I’m still going through the motions of my solo adventure in the supply closet. A few minutes go by and Julian prepares two cups of tea. He offers me sugar which I accept, before placing my cup in front of me and taking the seat across. We sit in silence, sipping our warm beverages, listening to the wind howling outside as rain slowly approaches. The sweetness of the sugar is nice on my tongue, but I still feel the ache in my chest. Julian can’t seem to sit still. His eyes shift from me to his cup, me, cup, the wall, cup, me. I can’t take his fidgeting much longer.

“Are you going to ask me why I was crying?” Julian jumps a little when I break the silence.

“I don’t wish to impose but, not every day you find your apprentice crying in a supply closet,” he attempts to joke. Oh if only he knew.

“I made a house call, to a family of four. They’re all infected and very far along in their symptoms,” I circle my finger around the rim of my cup, attempting to keep my composure. “They’re all being sent to the Lazaret as we speak,” Julian gives me a knowing nod. Humming in response as he glares into his cup. We both know this feeling too well. Having to send innocent people to their demise, where they will be cremated, and buried. Without a marker, without a proper funeral.

“You know what they said to me?” My voice wavers. “They said that they were going to dress in the nicest clothing they had before they left for the Lazaret… so they could go out… looking their best,” hot wet tears start to fall down my face again. I bring my hand to my face, but I stop when the leather makes contact with my hand. These hands, they try to help, but all they can do is condemn people to death, and prolong their suffering by keeping them alive, occasionally aiding the pain. But it's only temporary. I rip off my gloves and send them across the room. As far away from me as possible. Bringing my face into my hands I begin to sob once again.

I hear Julian stand in his chair, and then I feel two arms bring me into the warm hug. The first hug I’ve had in… a while, not since before my fight with Asra. I turn into his chest, letting ugly sobs escape me, while I cling to him like a lost child. All Julian does is hug me, stroking my back with a hand. But it’s the comfort I’ve needed for a while.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be working and here I am sobbing into your shoulder,” I finally pull away from Julian, my hands still on his chest. He keeps one hand on my shoulder, while the other rests on my hand placed over his heart.

“Well I didn’t think we were on the clock, I thought we were just having a tea break hm?” Julian's warm voice always seemed to soothe me in times of stress. But I’ve never broken down like this in front of him. Ever since taking up my apprenticeship with him, I’ve always tried to be the stronger one. Julian is definitely one for dramatics so I thought I had to be strong to compensate. For the sake of morals. What a load of good that did me.

I give Julian a nod, and stare at his hand, pressed softly on top of mine. Despite his gloves, I can feel just how cold his hands are. When I brought it up in the past he said something about it “matching his heart” but I know in reality Julian is a softy. I mean he made me tea and let me cry into his clothes. I flush slightly and pull my hands back. How long have I been holding on to him?

“Thank you, Julian,” I gaze into his kind, stormy eyes. He looks like he hasn’t been sleeping well. I probably look no better, however. I can't sleep. I spend every night haunted by my patients, their cries and wet coughs echoing in my head. I can't even sleep in my own bed, it feels empty and without life. Sometimes I sleep at my desk in the clinic. I wait until Julian has left, or has promptly passed out at his own desk, and try to get some sleep, but even then.

My eyes travel Julian’s face as he still crouches beside me, a hand on my shoulder. I reach my hand up and I tuck a strand of his auburn hair behind his ear, he shivers slightly at the contact. Is this ok? To be like this towards him? I’m his apprentice but… maybe I can be selfish. Just this once. I grab his other hand, lacing our fingers together. Julian’s eyes have gone wide, a flush of pink settling on his face. He stands instantly, pulling away, and clears his throat.

“W-well it seems the rain has let up? And oh! It must be half past 5, and you know what they say about 5 o’clock,” gathering our now cold tea and disposing of it. I suddenly feel cold at the loss of his touch. No, maybe I was doing too much. We work together this isn't some fling like we’re teenagers. Professional, yes.

“I-I could go for a drink,” Julian whips around from the sink and looks at me. A grin forming on his lips. I stand and awkwardly grab my gloves from the corner where I threw them.

“I’ll just change into regular clothing, I think seeing a doctor at a bar will damper the mood,” with a nod from Julian, I exit into the bathroom where Julian and I keep our personal items. I remove my protective gear, undoing the claps and putting it away along with my gloves. I grab my travel cloak and swing it around my shoulders. Exiting the bathroom I go to find Julian. A few drinks couldn’t hurt especially after the day I had.

“Ready to go, my dear?” He asks exiting the kitchen, putting his arm out for me to grasp. With a nod I take it and we exit the clinic together.

—- At the Rowdy Raven

How many tankards has it been? 3? 4? 6? I lost track. The world around me swirls, I hear people shouting because of an unfair card game. I rub a hand across my face, my lips are numb, just like my emotions. Good, I don’t want to feel tonight. I can't remember the last time I drank this much. Julian approaches with a glass of water and hands it to me.

“I uh, think you should drink this, and maybe I should walk you home,” I take the glass reluctantly and take a sip. It's cold and soothes the burn in my chest.

“Wow doctor, if I didn’t know you well enough I think you’d be tryna get me to take you home,” my words slur out. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or my loneliness but Julian is looking extra… something. Shit, I'm not sure, my words are failing me. My eyes are blurry and sounds seem to echo but I think I can see Julian blushing.

“Just, drink your water, I don’t think you will be able to work effectively with a hangover,” he sits next to me and moves the glass closer. With a groan, I take the drink and slowly but eventually finish it all. Feeling a little bit more sober, Julian and I leave the Raven together.

Right out the door, I stumble, Julian catches me by the elbows.

“Woah there! Maybe I should’ve had you drink another glass,” he laughs putting an arm around me to support me, his embrace is warm in comparison to the biting cold wind outside. The walk back to my shop is quiet. There's no conversation, just the sound of our shoes tapping along the wet cobblestone, and me occasionally losing my balance. The wind starts to pick up, sending leaves through the air. I stumble a little against it as it whips my face leaving me shivering. That’ll sober you up. I then feel a drop fall onto my head. Julian and I stop mid-walk and look up at the sky.

“It would seem the storm has picked up,” I nod in response, Julian then looks at me, his usual smirk plastered on his lips. “Think you’re sober enough to run?” He asks.

“Run?” I tilt my head. Just then the rain starts to pick up, and a downpour approaches. “Run!” I shout. We both take off in the rain, headed towards my shop. I grab onto Julian's hand hoping to keep up with him and we laugh as we race through the streets. We finally approach my shop and I hastily open it so we can get warm and dry.

I close the door and lean against it, heart-pounding and breath heavy. Julian is leaning on the counter trying to catch his own breath. I watch as he runs a hand through his hair, sending rain droplets onto his shoulders. The moon shines through a window, illuminating his pale skin. My stomach starts to flutter with nerves, or maybe it's the alcohol. I gulp.

“My, I didn’t expect it to come down like that!” Julian laughs. He rights himself and walks in a circle, observing my shop. “I don’t think I’ve ever really seen the inside of your shop,” he glances at me.

“Oh yea, I um haven't been keeping it open lately cause I’ve been too busy so it’s a little messy… sorry,” I nervously fiddle with the seam of my cloak. Why am I so flustered? Professional! this is a PROFESSIONAL setting. Just two co-workers who went out for drinks… and held hands in the rain… and now he's wet... in my shop. Oh, he’s wet! He’s going to catch a cold!

“W-why don’t I make us some tea and I’ll grab you a towel dry off?” I head towards the stairs and stop before I go up, looking at Julian over my shoulder. Please follow please follow please follow. He nods and we both ascend the stairs.

After clumsily filling the kettle and starting the stove, Julian tries to make me sit, but I insist I am fine and that the rain sobered me up. However I am not fine, I can manage on my own but my emotions are all over the place, why is Julian making me feel so strange? Why am I feeling things towards him? Like I want him to touch me and... No! Professional.

I find a few mismatched towels and bring them over. I hand them to Julian as I take one myself and dry myself off. I technically have a spell to fix all this but… I don’t want him to leave. Julian wraps a towel around his shoulders as he sits in a chair at the table. And then silence falls upon us once again.

“Um, thank you again, Julian, you always seem to know how to cheer me up,” I stand awkwardly, shifting my weight and avoiding Julian's eyes.

“Well, what kind of boss would I be if I didn’t take my employees out every once in a while?” He tries to be suave, but I can sense some unease in his voice. Water drips from his hair to his shoulders.

“Oh! Your hair is still wet,” I approach the table and grab a smaller towel, placing it on Julian, covering his face. Without thinking I begin to dry his hair. Rubbing the towel all over.

“Oh um, thank you,” Julian says. I freeze in place. What the hell am I doing. I slowly move my hands from the top of Julian's head to the back, towards his nape, where I slowly pull off the towel so it falls on his shoulders revealing his face. However, never in all my days did I expect Julian to be gazing at me like he was. His eyes were wide, filled with surprise and wonder. His mouth agape as he looked up at me, still slouched in the chair while I stand between his legs. My arms rest on his shoulders as I look down at him. Neither of us speaks a word. Suddenly I feel Julian’s arms, wrap around my back, he’s not grabbing me, just holding me, keeping me in place. I catch his eyes flick up and down multiple times. And I would be lying if I said mine wasn’t doing so too. The moonlight once again beams through the window as it pokes through the clouds. Illuminating Julians face with a cool glow. But at the same moment, my eye catches a glimpse of something on the table. I look over Julian's shoulders at it. No, it can't be, it was too dark in here to see but now that the moon is out... I see it. The succulent Asra bought me a while ago. It’s dead. A wave of emotion overtakes me, I look down at Julian who stares up at me, confused and almost expectantly.

“Julian, I-I’m so sorry,” I pull away from him, turning my back to face him. Trying to hide my embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have done that, or any of the things I did, I’m sorry. I’m just a mess,”

“A mess? Whatever makes you say that” I hear Julian stand, the chair squeaking as he pushes it back into place. I turn around and gesture towards the potted plant in the center of the table.

“The plant it was a gift from… from a friend, and I let it die,” My vision starts to become blurry once again.

“Well I’m sure your friend would understand, you have been busy lately-“

“You don’t understand!” The flood gates open. “I can’t even keep a plant alive let alone my patients! And all day I’ve just been selfish trying to flirt with you when I could have been working!” The ugly sobs return, I cry into my towel, hoping I’ll open my eyes and all of this will be a dream. How embarrassing I must look.

In the midst of my cries I hear the kettle started whistling. Mid sob, I turn toward the kitchenette and prepare tea for Julian and me. No cream or sugar for Julian, a teaspoon of sugar for myself. I turn around to give Julian his tea but he’s already behind me, reaching for the cup. He takes his drink and sits back at the table, and I join him with my respective cup. Snapping my finger, I like the singular candle on my kitchen table. Once again we are sat in silence drinking our tea. I’ve stopped sobbing, but my tears continue to fall.

“I’m sorry again Julian,” I sniffle between words. “I cannot lie I had an ulterior motive to bring you to my shop, but I shouldn’t have done that,” I’m too embarrassed to even meet his gaze.

“It’s alright, I cannot lie and say I didn’t sense you were up to something, so in a sense, I should also be apologizing,” I meet Julian’s eyes once again, he’s staring at me with a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. Taking a sip of his tea he continues.

“I understand it’s been hard for… all of us, because of the plague, but you can't allow it to overtake you and make you feel weak,” at this point I have calmed down, my cheeks stained in tears and my nose sniffly. I nod in response, gazing at my poor succulent.

“You said a friend gifted it to you?” Julian tries to strike up a conversation.

“Yes… he um loved to travel and would bring me gifts often,” I take a sip of my tea trying to keep myself composed.

“Were you close?” Julian asks. My eyes shift to his wondrous expression.

“Yes along the lines of that,” I pause for a second contemplating if I should tell him. “We got into an argument when the plague first became really bad. He wanted to leave, and I wanted to stay and help… So he left,” the last few words taste bitter in my mouth.

“Do you miss him?” I pause for a minute before I finally nod. Embarrassed to confess to Julian I was essentially trying to use him.

“I hope you don’t think ill of me… I should really stay away from the bottle,” I laugh bitterly. Julian quietly laughs in response.

“I could never think ill of you,”

“Thank you….” I glance out the window, the rain is still coming down hard. I don’t want to kick Julian out after I treated him so terribly.

“Would you like to sleep here, tonight? Just because of the rain and… I would feel awful sending you to walk home in that,” I gesture to the window. Julian gives me a smile and nods.

“Yes that would be lovely, I can sleep on the floor,”

“Oh no! You can sleep in my bed I insist!”

“I feel sleeping in your bed is a step backward from today,” he jokes. I flush with embarrassment.

“I suppose so,” I stand from the table and collect the cups and bring them to the sink. After cleaning the mess and gathering the laundry I hand Julian some pillows and blankets from my bed. Julian then goes into the bathroom to get ready for bed leaving me alone. I quickly change into my sleep clothes and stare at my bed before climbing in. I haven’t slept in my own bed in a while. I’ve been avoiding my shop like… well, you know. The memory of Asra and I fighting haunts me in my sleep. And now all I can think of when I’m here is how he would hold me in bed. I couldn’t bear to sleep in it alone.

“Well I don’t think staring at your bed will help you fall asleep any faster,” I whip around to see Julian, standing in nothing but trousers. I try not to let him see my flush.

“Yes of course,” I crawl into bed and wrap myself in a blanket and try not to stare while Julian approaches and lays on the floor beside my bed. He lets out a sigh once he’s comfortable and then there is silence. Had it not been for the rain beating hard on the windows, Julian would have heard my loud nervous breathing. I can’t remember the last time I slept in my own bed let alone while someone was here with me. I shut my eyes and try to will myself asleep.

Nothings working, my mind wanders worried about my patients, about my poor plants, about Asra, about Julian, about my shop. Anything and everything is causing anxiety in my mind. I toss and turn in bed trying to get comfortable but nothing works. After what feels like 2 hours have passed I finally open my eyes and let out a huff.

“Can’t sleep?” Julian’s groggy tone cuts through the silence. I let out a sigh.

“Yes… I haven’t had much sleep lately, I guess I’m not used to sleeping alone,”

“We’ll you’re technically not alone right now…”

“Yes I guess you’re right… But there's a difference between someone sleeping in your bed and someone sleeping next to your bed,” Julian lets out a short laugh.

“Yes I guess that is so, I’ve never had the best luck sleeping either… would you… would you want me to hold your hand?”

“What?” I quickly sit up and look over the edge of my bed at Julian. It’s very dark but I feel that I can see him blushing.

“Well you know, so you don’t feel like you’re sleeping alone,” his voice wavers slightly. I guess that makes sense.

“Ok,” I say. I then lay on my stomach and scooch to the edge of the bed and allow my arm to hang over the side, my hand finds Julians and we both lay there in silence. Our hands interlocked, listening as the rain comes down in the streets. Julian's hands are still cold as usual, but it’s soothing in a sense, against my hands that are usually hot and aching with tension like the rest of my body. I eventually hear Julian’s breath still into a sleepy rhythm. I keep my eyes on him, watching his chest rise and fall as tendrils of moonlight poke through the curtains. Eventually, I close my eyes, and slowly but surely I fall asleep into a warm comforting slumber.