#love how you can see me deflate throughout the updates

[wilcze-kudly]

Avatar's Hottest Woman Tournament

Round 3 summary

So.. this round was... very wild. A lot of close ones.

Rangi proves herself to be the hottest of all Avatar gfs, as she barely slides past Katara, bearing but 50.3% of the votes

While Korra proves to be the hottest Avatar, also just barely, with 51%

Kya II has truly been the dark horse of this tournament. Her polls have the least notoriety but she has been doing the best out if all the candidates. She defeats beloved goth gf June with 46.1%

Now, the matter of Lin Beifong vs Suki. This round has been extremely tense. Sadly, we have much reason to believe this poll has been botted. After much deliberation, I regret to inform you a that both contestants journeys have come to an end, in order to avoid another botting. This competition is for fun and I am afraid I have no means of preventing any bad actors from skewing the results. I apologise to all voters for the upset this may have caused

Due to Suki and Lin being eliminated, Korra passes to the finale uncontested, while we shall see if Kya II can avenge her mother.

[mynameisnotthepoint]

Ossan no pantsu EP 5

Disclaimer: I had already watched this drama with subs that were mostly machine translated, so this is less of a first time reaction and more of an "i finally have the whole picture now". This will contain spoilers, so be warned!

As always: thank you to @isaksbestpillow for continuing to provide us with excellent subs to this drama!!

Quote

"That's how it is being a parent. You can't really think with confidence: 'I just handled this the best way.'" (Mihoko to Mika, translation by isaksbestpillow)

My very jumbled thoughts/extras

I am a bit behind with my posts about this series. Work and a cold caught up with me, but I will try to finish this.

Later episodes will deal with this more, but ultimately, older people are left behind by this rapidly changing system. My coworker's husband had to look for a new job at 62 after his bus driving company closed down. He spent months unemployed. Makoto here also knows that he doesn't have a lot to offer except grit and perseverance. You need them to survive a job, but these days you have to have many more qualifications to think about switching jobs. I also noticed that the coworkers call her Shimura-san!! Which also is something that will come back in a later episode.

I also love the fonts and color grading they used to show Makoto's entrance into the office - a contemporary suspense (?) font/music - and then the flashback scenes to when Makoto was starting out that feel very oldschool.

I think it is in this episode that Makoto realises he could be a burden to society. He is, in many ways: people bow down to his wiles (his wife) or ignore/avoid him (his subordinates, his children, even his dog). Throughout this series he comes to a bigger understanding of how respect should be mutual, and is also earned. --- INTERLUDE: Theme song and Daichi's actor Oppan's opening credits song アプデライフ (Updated life) is by the Jpop group FANTASTICS from EXILE TRIBE, of which Nakajima Sota, who plays Igarashi Daichi, is a member (he is a vocalist). This group has two members who have also played in BLs: Yagi Yusei (vocalist, from the My Beautiful Man-series) and Kimura Keito (dancer, from Ameiro Paradox). It is actually through FANTASTICS fans that I first learned about Oppan :) --- My heart aches for both Daichi and Madoka. You can see Daichi's face fall, a sadness creep into his eyes while Madoka tries to explain why he couldn't tell his parents he had a boyfriend. Meanwhile Madoka is just so scared to lose Daichi, so scared to be himself. And Daichi is the one who can muster up a smile, try to make everything seem OK. Madoka is so tall and yet, he always seems to make himself small, hunches over, ridden by guilt. The flashbacks of how they met and how they got to know each other are so well done (@twigtea and @bengiyo have written such good meta about it and the outing scene at the end!!).

Daichi's mom is such a wonderful person. She knows her son, knows when he is being chipper to hide that he is feeling sad. It shows the strength of their bond that he can show his anger with her, although it might be misplaced, as she was the one trying to help him. And Daichi knows, after raising his voice at her, he immediately deflates and apologizes. (my mom is so very similar to his mom. and i can also get angry at her or take her for granted, which i immediately feel sorry about).

BTW: Matsushita Yuki (who plays Igarashi Mihoko) plays Ida's mom in Kieta Hatsukoi AND Kurosawa's mother in the Cherry Magic movie!

I touched upon this briefly in a last post, but I love how they made Kakeru's hair truly look like it has grown out and he hasn't really cut it evenly. Although it does change quite a bit at the school scenes, which were probably filmed later. Through the series, Kakeru not only becomes comfortable wearing make-up outdoors, but also puts a lot of effort into his hairstyles.

I love Mika so much. Kakeru feels down and useless because he is unable to go to school again, and she encourages him to help her with the laundry. We later learn that she doesn't enjoy housework all that much, but in this moment she is happy to see him outside of his room and wants to spend time with him. He is also doing more housework just by helping out than Makoto ever seems to do...

The dynamics in this family are so developed!! Mika talks very differently to Moe, who seems to have the upper hand a lot in their conversations. But I really like how they genuinely seem to get along and want to spend time together. Them evaluating Makoto together if he can attend a barbecue with Madoka and Daichi and Daichi's mom was so funny. Also them preparing for the barbecue together and welcoming their guests together warmed my heart.

ME TOO. Also, this is one of my favourite Kakeru outfits. I truly love his style. Also, after meeting the girls who were nice to him, this meeting with Hasegawa shows Kakeru he can talk to people his age without feeling alienated. It takes repeated experiences liket this to get you to enjoy company again, but he smiles and is happy. (Now Makoto, we don't just assume our child is dating someone, he is literally just sitting next to him and talking - the face touching means nothing!! I do like that this makes the updating even more concrete for Makoto). The second time Hasegawa and Kakeru meet up starts a bit akward, but they talk to each other freely. Yet, Kakeru shuts down when Hasegawa starts talking about school and the baseball club. He'd still rather avoid the conversation and walk away than say what is on his mind. He is going outside, went outside to buy products for Hasegawa, but he isn't suddenly free of his worries and coping mechanisms.

Makoto buying books on queerness and acceptance is what makes Moe believe he has changed. And yet, reading up on things doesn't make you know how to react in real life. Makoto having his subordinates clap for him makes him overconfident, makes him think he knows everything. But, as @bengiyo pointed out, it is really important that he does his updating independently too, he shouldn't just wait for Daichi to explain everything to him.

The scene which hurts the most here is at the barbecue, when everyone has been having such a good time and even Kakeru is happy to watch them from his window. Makoto just says out loud what everyone has been avoiding all afternoon: he calls Madoka Daichi's boyfriend. It was just an unspoken rule that everyone at the party understood: Daichi and Madoka are there. What they are to each other is personal to them. Makoto wants to please, wants to show that he has updated, has such foot in mouth syndrome that he doesn't realise that rule. And Madoka very understandably freaks out. I must say, I have watched this episode three times now, and I have only been able to watch this scene without pausing or fast-forwarding once. It hurts.

What I did notice, in the aftermath, is that there are shots of the characters where Moe and Mika stand together in the foreground, then in another shot Daichi stands in the foreground while his mom is in the back, and Madoka and Makoto are both alone in their shot. I don't know if this was intentional, but it does illustrate how they feel about themselves in that moment in time. Moe and Mika are united in wanting to make this work, Daichi has his mom he can rely on, but both Madoka and Makoto feel alone and afraid in this moment.

An anecdote from when the show was airing: this episode was the one I saw people talk about the most before episodes 8 and 9 aired. It generally frustrated me to no end that people seemed to only focus on "the gays" and disregarded the rest of the story (Moe!! Kakeru!! Mika!! and even Makoto's development). Seeking out explicitly gay characters shouldn't make you disregard a story that is about queerness, about how women are treated, and so much more. It didn't help that a lot of fan translators were only focused on translating Sota's scenes, as they were fans of his group/him as an idol. It is so interesting to have an actual idol in a drama that has a whole story thread about being a fan of an idol group! (I am now just referencing later episodes...).

[medicallymercury]

About Time - Casualty Hiatus Thoughts - Part 1/?

I used to include real life updates in my episode reviews. I think I’m ill and it’s really bad timing for like a bunch of stuff I need to get done over the next two weeks so I’m mainly writing this to try and make myself feel less like a deflated balloon. I guess I miss Casualty now? But also I don’t really want it back because I really don’t trust that I’ll like where it goes next. I have things I really should be doing but instead I'm typing this up and finding a way to look at AO3 on my Switch Lite.

I feel like I’ve been putting off typing this up for two reasons. One, it’s a lot of energy to put my Casualty thoughts into semi-coherent words, especially in between writing stuff for uni, because in my head my Casualty thoughts are mostly just “I’m so nauseous about the pretend paramedics”. Two, my thoughts are almost exclusively about the paramedics, specifically mostly about Teddy, and for some reason I’m worried about coming across obsessive? BREAKING NEWS: Autistic Person Is Obsessive About Special Interest, More At Ten! Like, yeah, I do sound like Teddy is all I think about, because he kind of is all I think about lately. I’ve been feeling more self conscious about it lately, I guess, but I trust that anyone also still hanging around in the Casualty fandom this far into the hiatus can’t be all that different from me and therefore won’t judge me.

Also, there's no connecting theme in this post. The theme is 'things that have been on my mind during the hiatus' and that's quite varied and random so I might seem like I'm jumping between topics a lot.

Having written this post now, I worry parts of it come across very critical of Teddy who is my beloved favourite character. If I like a character, they’re gonna get picked apart and they’re rarely gonna come out of it 100% positive. I love him and I think he’s such a great character who has been a very kind and sweet person throughout his existence in Casualty that’s kind of being forgotten a bit right now. I also think he has done objectively bad things recently but he’s also going through a lot and I’m very sympathetic about that. So if this post comes across negative about him: I love and feel very :( for him, I just also love hating on my faves.

The BBC actually personally attacked me by making Sah and Teddy go through weird-queer-friendship breakup while I was using them to cope with my own weird-queer-friendship breakup. Now, Spotify is continuing the personal attack by playing Night Shift and The Frost whenever I'm on my commute. I cannot start crying over the pretend paramedics on this train, but also you've got a 9-to-5, so I'll take the night shift and I'll never see you again if I can help it and you're not here to see, it's just witness-less me. The overall polyfailure songs are I Bet On Losing Dogs and Cool About It, I do have a playlist but I did not plan to start going on about it in this post. Sah and Teddy are on my mind as they have been since I got back into Casualty (and kinda before then), I don't really ship them in the typical sense except for when it's also with Paige but their canon relationship is so interesting. They act like they're just mates or whatever, and then act about and towards each other in a way that they don't with any other person. My go-to way of describing it is that they're a little weird about each other. I appreciate that, at least until the end of Driving Force, they're still a little weird about each other. Proposing to your girlfriend out of immense jealousy towards your best friend who you basically won't talk to anymore is kinda weird, quitting your job over your best friend doing that is maybe less weird but they're both still making major decisions based on each other. I also really love how certain parts of their series 36 storylines are written as these paired opposites but that's another post. Big thing on my mind is the idea that Teddy can't really pretend he never cared about Sah, he can't forget about them because he got shot for them and (for all that Casualty will absolutely forget it happened) that's gonna leave a scar, he can't ever get away from them and he won't forget their birthday ever again! Like, I can't get a Greggs without thinking of my weird friendship, can he exist without thinking of Sah? I'm! miserable! about! them! They're so incredibly Planet of Love and Wishbone by Richard Siken, except the guy getting shot in those poems is actually also called Theodore.

[The particularly them parts. Let's not talk about it!! Let's just not talk!!!]

On the topic of Teddy getting shot, I said I was gonna rewatch the start of Welcome to the Warzone so I can post episode reviews for all of that miniseries and then I did not do that. I’ve mostly been rewatching random series 36 episodes. I’ve been thinking a lot about With a Bullet, though. It’s the episode that dragged me properly back into Casualty but I always forget how busy it is? There’s so much happening that it kinda annoys me. At the core of the episode you’ve got a lot of great stuff with the paramedics that helps to establish stuff for later on in WTTW and Driving Force but then there’s all this other stuff also happening around it that is just not relevant. I honestly think the episode would be exponentially better if they just let it be a paramedic centric episode in the style of Is The Patient Breathing?. Cut back all the non-paramedic stuff (and anything in that episode about Iain and Faith, we got enough of that stuff in every other episode) and just have a couple of storylines happening around Teddy getting shot. Specifically, just focus on Teddy and Jan (and Gethin) to set up everything that has happened with Gethin, Teddy and Sah to set up everything that has happened with Paige, and Jacob and Iain to properly establish where Jacob is at in the team and like generally. Shove the other stuff into other episodes. Anyway, my point is that With a Bullet is on my mind cause it technically does a good job at setting these things up but is held back by everything else going on.

Switzerland has got me thinking a lot about the Jan-Teddy Wider Family Tree™ on so many levels:

I think it fits into this theme of Teddy not really being taken seriously or being perceived as having maturity by his family. Not being taken seriously is such a consistent thing with Teddy that it's actually very hard to concisely talk about it, there's so many tangents and even like his name is a diminutive. I think it's been something that's built up to this point where he's trying to prove people wrong and make them take him seriously. That's kind of where I think the proposal comes from. But with his family, his anger in Switzerland, to me, is about being kept out of stuff because they don't really think he is mature enough to get it. And I do think Teddy would have come to accept Gethin's decision like Jan did if he had been included. Teddy being seen as immature is dragged back up by Jan when she tells him to grow up after he wants to give Gethin the benefit of the doubt in With a Bullet, and it's interesting to me that it's this like kindness and forgiveness that is perceived as being immature. Honestly, when you get that family together they do kind of struggle to be consistently nice to each other for very long, except for maybe Teddy who has actually been the one trying mediate a lot before. So when he's saying all this pretty horrible stuff in the argument in Switzerland, isn't that kind of maturity by these standards? He's jumping between saying very actually childish things and saying stuff that is comparable to the stuff Gaynor says to Jan. Honestly, ignore this section, I really feel like I can't effectively express what I'm thinking but there was an attempt.

I've got 'Teddy as Son 2.0' on my mind but it makes me nauseous to try and talk about it. Replacement son and replacement mother but in way that is as concerning as it is sweet. I started to think about it in Aftermath but it really came out full force in the final episodes of Driving Force. Specifically, Jan’s “What am I going to tell Ross?… And Teddy?” moment in Switzerland and the differences in how Gethin responds to those questions. Just bringing the two of them up in the same context like that. But looking back, this has been developing for a while. In With a Bullet, you’ve got Jan saying almost exactly what Gaynor said to Teddy in Break Your Heart and then cutting herself off and saying what she had said to him in that episode instead. (Actually, she even said in Break Your Heart that she loves Teddy as if he’s her own and then Gaynor gives us the only direct comparison ever made between Teddy and Ross: “Well he’s not, thank goodness. Look how well your’s turned out…”.) All the way back at the start of series 36, you have Teddy showing up and trying to get Jan and Ffion back together when they had separated over Ross stuff. Their stuff in Is The Patient Breathing? is explicitly about Jan being harsh on Teddy because she doesn’t want to lose him like she lost Lev and Fenisha, but also literally everything they get called to in that episode is to do with drugs in some way. Honestly, a couple years from now, I wouldn’t mind another storyline with Ross if it also involved Teddy. I am interested in what they might do there. Sure, they have like a 10 year age difference but my cousin is 11 years older than me and we still spent time together when I was a kid - the fact that Gethin immediately recognises Teddy when he sees him makes me think there must have been a period of relative okay-ness for the family when Teddy was very young. I think I just want to get all of them in a room and do Jeremy Kyle on them.

I've also been thinking about the Chekhov's Gun moment that is "you know what it was like when my parents were divorcing" from Broken. Maybe Jan does, but we don't. Teddy's parents' seemingly not-amicable divorce feels relevant to him rushing into marrying Paige. Also, I just enjoy the vaguely-still-alive-and-out-there-ness of Teddy's dad. What's he up to? Has he not been at all interested in all the times Teddy has nearly died in the past couple years? I expect that eventually the writers will pull him out for a storyline and I am interested in what they might do there too but I'm honestly too attached to my headcanons in that area now.

I’ve edited this in but I wanted it in here. I was looking at Teddy’s birthday on onthisday.com and Bring It All Back was number 1 in the UK charts that day. I’ve got this ridiculous headcanon that Sah and Teddy both really enjoy S Club so I am very pleased with that.

Let's end controversially, my Casualty hot takes. This one I think is reasonable; I don't like how certain parts of the fandom (...Twitter) act about their favourite characters. There's this sort of outright refusal to acknowledge that your favourite character can ever be in the wrong and it annoys me for two reasons. First, every other character ends up being judged on the basis of how they treat your favourite character which is a very interesting way to watch the show. Second, a lot of the time it leads to that favourite character being oversimplified. Good people can do bad things sometimes. Good characters usually do bad things sometimes. I love Teddy but I can acknowledge that he's been a prick lately while also considering the reasons behind his behaviour. I love Sah but maybe kissing Paige wasn't brilliant of them and maybe that's okay. I think my annoyance about this might be more to do with the fact that I'm not really as interested in a lot of the characters that seem to be fan-favourites over there. This one I think makes me a bad Casualty fan; I would not watch it if it was just about treating patients. Everytime they make an episode about them just being professionals and treating patients (like How To Save A Life), I see people saying they wish Casualty was always like that and... I don't! I love those episodes and I think they're important and really well made and actually fit into the series very well. And I do think those episodes can contribute to the characters as professionals, I often wish the show made it feel like their jobs were more relevant to who they are as people. But if it was always just about that, I would just watch one of those ambulance documentary shows instead. I'm here for the characters, I'm here for the drama, I'm here for Hamlet in a hospital and I feel like every episode being about them actually doing their jobs might get in the way of that. Similarly, I don't get when people complain about the characters doing stuff that "would never happen in a real hospital" because it isn't a real hospital. Suspend your disbelief.

[toosicktoocare]

Omg omg!! 9-1-1 prompts!! I’d really love a Buck x Eddie (either romantic or platonic) where Buck gets stuck in a building for a bit too long and gets super woozy from smoke inhalation and Eddie is having to help guide him to help after hauling him out of the building. Obviously only write it if you want to!! —withstarryeyes

Sorry for the delay on this, @withstarryeyes I’ve actually had this written for, like, 2 weeks now? Maybe 3? I just forgot, lol

When the last family member stumbles out of the building with Bobby, Eddie expects to see Buck trailing behind, but he’s not, and Eddie’s gut twists hard. Tension sets his jaw tightly. and he grips his radio to keep his hands from shaking. “Buck,” he calls into the device. “Status update?”

He’s met with static, and he doesn’t hear the others approach him from behind; he doesn’t hear anything aside from the roaring fire warming his face.

“Buckley,” Bobby tries, voice steady at Eddie’s side. “You want to maybe get out of the burning house now?”

“Uh, trying, Cap, but-”

There’s a crackling crash from the second floor, and it takes every physical ounce of will power to keep Eddie planted in place and not rushing head first into the fire.

“Buck?” Bobby tries again, and it’s the very subtle flick on concern that edges his words that has Eddie shoving his radio close to his mouth.

“Evan,” he growls, desperation thick in his tone, and then the radio’s crackling, and Buck’s breathing that comes through is harsh and heavy.

“I’m kind of stuck.”

It’s exactly what Eddie did not want to hear, and he can feel the blood drain from his face, leaving him terrified down to his very core. His eyes find a bedroom window on the second story, and then Buck appears before it, waving down sheepishly at them.

“Where’s his oxygen mask?” Eddie asks, more to himself, and Hen gestures toward one of the kid’s propped up in the back of an ambulance, an abandoned oxygen mask lying at her feet.

“Shit,” Eddie curses under his breath. “I’m going up.”

“You are not,” Bobby interrupts, falling in step beside Eddie as Eddie all but marches toward the ladder truck that’s already stationed with the aerial aimed to the roof. He’s slipping into full gear, but before he can start the climb to the top of the truck, Bobby’s in front of him, promptly blocking him.

“Bobby-”

“-You have a dislocated shoulder, Eddie. It’s not happening.”

“I’ve worked through worse,” Eddie fires back, eyes briefly flicking toward the roof to see Buck still at the window, looking, for the first time tonight, mutely scared.

“And that’s a poor reflection on me, so from now on, injuries stay on the ground.”

Eddie’s clenching his teeth, struggling around crumbling composure, but then there’s another roar of shifting fire from the building. It’s just enough to capture Bobby’s attention, and Eddie takes his chance to slip from his sling and yank himself up to the top of the ladder truck. He barks out a few orders to the others manning the aerial, and then he’s being helped into the remaining gear and starting across the ladder at a dangerous speed.

“Diaz, get back down here.”

“Eddie, what the hell?”

“I’m not popping that shoulder back into place again, Eddie. You’re on your own this time.”

Eddie ignores his radio, considers tossing it all together, but then he makes it to the window, and Buck, who’s swaying on his feet, coughing into his fist, is shooting Eddie a worried look. He motions for Buck to move back, and in a quick motion, he’s breaking the window and helping Buck onto the ladder.

“Your shoulder,” Buck wheezes, and he tries to pull away, to not cling to Eddie’s bad arm, but he’s staggering, light-headed, and Eddie snakes said bad arm around Buck’s waist, grounding him.

“Move,” he growls into Buck’s ear, and the two make their way back to the truck, Eddie supporting Buck’s weight, guiding him back to the truck then helping him off the truck, and it’s not until Buck’s feet are hitting cold, solid ground that Eddie can breathe fully.

“Diaz!”

Eddie will take Bobby’s scolding; he’ll take it at any hour or any day, but right now, Buck needs oxygen. Luckily, or not, depending on how one looks at it, Bobby’s anger dissipates to clear concern when he stops before them and eyes Buck, who, with every passing second, is seemingly struggling more and more to remain standing.

Buck’s head lolls to Eddie’s shoulder, and though the gaze Bobby shares with Eddie is sharp, indicating a silent more to come, he nods, and takes Buck’s other side, helping Eddie get him to Hen and Chimney.

The next few minutes are a blur. Buck’s fitted with an oxygen mask, and though he’s cleary drained, he’s still whipping out quick jokes and jabs with Hen and Chimney, and Eddie desperately wants to cling to that, to the normalcy, but as much as he tries, he can’t. He can only focus on the way Buck’s hand absently rubs at his chest, or the way his face briefly flicks to pinched pain with each inahle he drinks in. For a moment, all he sees is Buck standing at the window, and all he hears is the masked, crackling fear in his voice over the radio, how he tried to sound calm, but Eddie knows him better than that.

“Earth to Eddie. Did you hit your head, and I not see?”

Eddie blinks slowly. Buck’s in front of him, swaying faintly on his feet and frowning, and Eddie shakes his head, hand reaching out on instinct to feel Buck’s steady, thumping pulse against his neck. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” Buck fires back quickly, Eddie’s abandonded sling in his hand. “Bobby’s three seconds from losing his shit, you know.”

Eddie looks over Buck’s shoulder to see Bobby frowning deeply at him, and he offers a sheepish half-wave before he turns back to Buck, trained eyes studying  Buck’s poor pallor, the soft wheeze that accompanies each rise and fall of his chest, the way he’s shaking his knees, most likely to hold his balance.

“Do you need to go to the hospital? You were in there for a while.”

“Hen said she wants to look me over tomorrow before our shift, but otherwise, she said I should be fine. I just need to keep an eye on my breathing throughout the night.” Buck lifts one hand, palm spreading softy over Eddie’s injured shoulder. “You should get Hen to look at-”

“-Stay the night tonight,” Eddie interrupts, and Buck’s jaw falls slack.

They’ve been exclusive for a few months now. It’s been clumsy, both working to find a new type of balance, but it’s been nice, and Eddie’s been wanting to ask Buck over for the night for a while now. While Buck’s stayed over before, on the couch after late shifts, this, Eddie thinks, is different, and he can’t think of a better time.

“What?”

“I can watch over you- make sure you’re okay so you can rest.”

“Eddie, that’s not-”

“-Please,” Eddie presses, and whether or not it’s the desperate weight behind his tone, Buck nods, his resolve giving in, and Eddie slips his arm around Buck’s waist, supporting him as he leads him back to the truck. Buck stumbles, and though Eddie’s shoulder is throbing, he tightens his hold.

“Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital now?”

“Yeah, Hen said I’ll just be a little light-headed for a bit.”

Eddie’s not wildly satisfied with that answer, but he drops it as he helps Buck into the truck now that another station’s pulled up to work on dousing the remaining flames. He keeps quiet when they get back to the station, sticking wordlessly close to Buck’s side, keeping an ear to his breathing, a hand to is back, and he’s just about to hop into his truck after having changed and gotten Buck settled into the passenger seat when Bobby pops up in front of the truck.

“Eddie.”

Eddie meets Buck’s sympathetic gaze, shrugs, and turns toward Bobby. “Look, Cap-”

“-You disobeyed direct orders.”

“I know, Cap, but-”

“-You aren’t one to normally do that, Eddie. That’s Buck’s job, not yours.”

“Cap, I understand that, but-”

“-Did you even consider the risk, Eddie?”

“Of course I did!” Eddie shouts before he deflates against a sigh, dropping against the front of his truck and running the hand of his good arm down his face. “But, Buck... He outweighs any risk, Bobby. He always will.”

“If you keep this up, I’m going to have to put you two on seperate shifts, and I really don’t want to do that. You two work too well together, so make sure,” Bobby steps a little closer, clapping a gentle hand to Eddie’s good shoulder, “this doesn’t happen again.”

“I can’t promise that it won’t, Bobby.”

“Just, shut up and nod, Diaz. I’m too tired to think anymore about this tonight.”

Bobby’s tone is light, a soft smile coloring his lips, and Eddie nods, his own smile pulling through the stress.

“Take care of him, okay? Call if you need anything.”

“Yes, Cap.”

Eddie hops into the truck when Bobby walks back into the station, and he can physically feel Buck’s almost dopey smile piercing the side of his face. “Don’t say it,” he groans, turning a tired gaze toward Buck, but Buck’s already batting too long lashes at him.

“My hero.”

[cora-vizsla]

Hypnotic (Taking Over Me)- Chapter 2

Pairing: Eventual Jedi!OC x Sith!Obi Wan

Word Count: 4.3K

Story Rating: E (18+)

Chapter Rating: T

Warning: Swearing. Threats of violence. Calm kidnapping. Mentions of sex in the past. 

A/N: I know I said I was going to post this like two days ago but life got in the way. I hope you enjoy either way. As always, if I missed any tags please let me know!

When they got closer to presumably their destination, Veth held out a blindfold. Zara raised one eyebrow at him and shook her head.

“I’m not wearing that. Your threat of killing my men is over so you have no leverage over me.”

“I have two lightsabers and you’re stuck in this ship with me.”

“If you swing them, we both die. Are you wanting to die?”

“Are you?”

Zara scowled and crossed her arms. Veth laughed at her which only soured her mood even more.

“Me not having leverage over you is exactly why I need you to wear this. You presumably have it planned that you figure out where you are and either get a message out or escape on your own. I do not want to harm you, but I will if I have to.”

“So, wear this for my own protection?”

“Precisely, darling.”

Zara did nothing short of barking out a cackle.

“I am a Jedi Knight. I do not fear you. You may have manipulated me into going with you to keep my clones safe but that does not mean I am easily fooled.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“Would you trust me if the roles were reversed?”

“Yes.”

Zara was taken back by his swift and solid answer.

“You’ve had many chances to fight me, yet you’d prefer to talk and negotiate. You don’t want to fight if you don’t have to. That is a trait we share.”

“Sith only want destruction.”

“That is what the Jedi teach.”

“That is the truth.”

“Give me one day, Zara Fross. Comply with me for that long then you can make your decision on if you’re going to fight back or not.”

“Why a day?”

“That’s how long it will take me to ensure that you are safe before you do something reckless like jumping off a cliff.”

She found herself biting back a laugh as she reached to snatch the blindfold. Veth made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat and motioned for her to turn. Zara grimaced but turned slightly, allowing her captor to place it over her eyes and tie it. She felt her face flush when he gently turned her and ensured her eyes were completely covered.

“I bet this is the easiest kidnapping you’ve ever conducted.”

“You are right, though you aren’t the first beautiful woman I’ve put a blindfold on. Now sit there like a good girl and we will be home soon enough.”

Shocked by his tone and words, Zara sat in silence instead of arguing. She told herself that it would never be home to her, just a temporary stop before she found her way back to the Jedi. She hoped that Anakin wasn’t causing too much trouble.

---

“THAT is why you sent her without me!? You knew that creep would follow her!”

“Calm down, Anakin.” Mace said for what felt like the hundredth time.

“How can I calm down? He TOOK her!”

“She is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. There was no indication that she was harmed. He let her leave a message for Commander Cody.”

“Where is Commander Cody? He should be punished for leaving her alone in the first place.”

“Anakin Skywalker. You better watch your tone when you’re speaking to the council. I understand you care for your friend, but you need to recognize that we need to put our trust in her and her capabilities. You’re bordering on insulting with how little you believe in her.”

“Master Windu, I can’t agree with not sending someone to find her. To save her. We have no idea what that creep is doing to her.”

“We also don’t know where she is. Once we get intel on her location, we will send someone to retrieve her. Until then, you have missions that you must accomplish. The war has not stopped, and you have not been relieved of any of your responsibilities.”

Anakin sighed and deflated. He nodded at Mace and ran his hands down his face.

“You’re right, Master. Just.. please keep me updated on her while I’m gone.”

Mace nodded at him and watched him leave. Yoda turned to him once the door shut and shook his head.

“Troubled, that boy is.”

“Yes. I know him and Zara are close, but he is so reckless.”

“No different, Zara would be.”

“No but she would have at least said those things to me in private instead of the entire counsel.”

Yoda chuckled and nodded, reaching over to pat Maces hand a few times. It was unspoken, but Master Windu was just as worried about his former Padawan as Anakin was, especially if the reports about Darth Veth were true.

---

Zara hated not having some semblance of control. It was why she preferred not to fight. No one could ever predict every move someone else would make. Words were easier for her to predict. So, stumbling through the snow without being able to see was not her idea of a good time.

“We’re almost there, darling.”

“I really wish you’d stop calling me that.”

“Would you prefer princess? Love? I’m sure I could find sweet pet names to find out in different languages if that is what you would enjoy.”

Zara stopped moving, turning to where she thought the man was and tried to glare.

“Fine. Stick with darling.”

He chuckled and gripped her arm a little tighter. He wasn’t hurting her, not that he even remotely wanted to. When she had stumbled a few times, he felt bad at how petrified she was at not being able to see. He had offered to carry her but that didn’t help the fear that was basically seeping from her pores.

When her teeth started chattering, he finally gave in and scooped her up. She gasped out of surprise and started to protest. She silenced when he shushed her and tentatively held onto him, afraid of being dropped.

“It’s quicker this way. Need to get you inside before you freeze to death.”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away would I.”

He chuckled and tightened his grip on her, picking up his pace. Within a few minutes he spotted their destination and got her inside. He deposited her gently on his couch and pulled the blindfold off.

“Get your boots off. You aren’t dressed for the cold and you don’t want to lose toes because of it.”

She hesitated, taking in her surroundings but eventually pulled them off, setting them neatly by her. Veth looked at her as he was taking off his heavy jacket and boots.

“You don’t need to sit there. You can explore.”

She stood warily, wincing at the feeling returning to her feet. She walked throughout the main living space and noticed how simple it was. She half expected a home more industrial and extravagant. It didn’t scream Sith Lord to her.

Making her way down the hallway, she looked into each room. She was surprised to see that there were two bedrooms and a fairly large refresher. The last room she came to actually intrigued her enough to walk in. Every wall was covered from floor to ceiling in books and holocrons.

“I figured this would be the room I’d find you in.”

Zara glanced over her shoulder and wrapped her arms around herself. Veth walked in and stood next to her.

“You are welcome to read anything in here. I would have brought some of the texts from our meeting spot but figured they’d just be another weapon for you to use against me.”

“I wouldn’t risk destroying history like that.”

“Then I trust you all the more in my personal library. I have placed warm clothes in the refresher. Take your time as this planet has no water restrictions or issues. I will be making some food to eat. Come find me when you are done.”

He went to walk out but Zara reached out and touched his arm lightly, recoiling as soon as she did.

“Why.. why am I here?”

“Are you asking that or asking why you aren’t shackled and bleeding?”

“I guess I’m asking both.”

“Go shower. I will answer all questions within reason when you are done.”

---

Zara stepped out of the shower and wiped at the mirror in front of her. She considered braiding her hair but with the cold she needed it to dry as soon as possible. She looked down at the counter and saw that there was a brush. With a shrug she picked it up and worked it through her hair.

It had gotten much longer than she usually let it grow. When she was younger, she kept it short to keep it out of her face but now it was down to her mid back. She ran her fingers across the short side she had cut and thought of Anakin. He had dared her to do it thinking she would care too much about her hair. She had laughed so hard when she saw the expression on his face when she cut the portion.

She wondered how Anakin was. It wasn’t abnormal not to talk to him for days at a time, but now she didn’t even have the capability to. He was her best friend and the idea of not seeing him again brought a pain to her chest she had never felt before.

Zara shook her head, trying to will away the negative thoughts. Instead, she focused on the bright color of her hair. It had been another dare of Anakin. He thought Mace would be furious with her but instead he had given her a soft smile and a nod, letting her know it fit her. Master Windu always wanted her to be herself in a way that fit the code. Her appearance didn’t matter as long as she lived the code and was proud of being a Jedi.

She looked down at the clothes and frown. They were most definitely the Sith’s robes. She considered putting her own back on, but he was right; it was cold. Once she was dressed in the black robes that were just slightly too big for her, she hung her towel up and went back out to the main living area.

“Ah, hello there. I hope your shower was enjoyable.”

She nodded, not having the energy to argue with him anymore. He motioned for the table that already had food waiting for her. She sat down gently and looked at the food.

“Stars, I know I’m not a great cook, but it isn’t enough to be sad over.”

When she didn’t look up at him, he sighed and sat next to her, digging into his own food. She eventually picked up her utensils and started eating. It was warm and well-seasoned, but it did little to improve her mood.

“Lord Veth, why am I here?”

He used his napkin to pat at his mouth before sitting back in his chair. It struck her as odd at how sophisticated he was, again. It went against everything that she had been taught about the Sith and how they lived their life.

“I promised you answers. I will give you as many as I can. Then you can be informed if you want to fight against your captivity or not.”

He took a drink of the wine in front of him before crossing on leg over the other.

“I first heard of you when you started your missions with the Skywalker boy.”

“You’ve called him Ani. Why?”

“I’ll get there, my dear. I was tasked with observing you and finding a way to get you away from him. You see, my Master desperately wants the boy. He has plans for him. He doesn’t think that he will stray from the Jedi as long as you are around him. You’re a rather calming presence for him just as much as he challenges you to come out of your shell.”

“He’s my best friend.”

Zara felt her chest tighten again at the thought of Anakin and the vulnerability she was showing.

“Without you around he can fulfill the role my Master expects of him. I was given the option to just kill you but the more I learned of you the more I saw how much of a waste that would be. You’re a strong Jedi and an even smarter woman. You care deeply for those around you regardless of it being a stretch in the code you swore yourself to.”

“That doesn’t explain how you know Anakin.”

“I was with Qui Gon when he found him.”

“You?”

He chuckled and nodded, brushing his hair back out of his face.

“Yes. I went by an entirely different name back then, but I was there.”

Zara furrowed her brow and tried to figure out who he possibly could be. She chewed on her bottom lip as she tried desperately to pull up the memory.

“Master Windu told me of a padawan Master Jinn had. He died though so he took on Anakin.”

“I did not die. I’m sure he thought I did with the fiery explosion. My Masters other apprentice found me barely clinging to life. The Jedi never even looked for me.”

“That’s.. terrible. I am so very sorry that they didn’t.. there had to have been a reason they didn’t-”

Zara sat up straighter when anger flashed across the man’s face. His eyes seemed even more dangerous and for the first time she didn’t feel safe around him. She stood up and he followed, backing her against the wall. He caged her in by placing his hands on each side of her head.

“Do not mistake my civility as us being friends, Jedi. I will treat you as my guest, but I will not have the betrayal they put me through excused or brushed off by anyone. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good girl.”

He stood up, taking his hands from the wall and tracing his finger across her jaw gently with a feral smile. She looked up at him trying to steel herself against him. She had almost let herself forget that he was a dangerous Sith keeping her captive.

“Why don’t you finish eating then we can talk more. Like I said earlier, there is much I wish to learn about you.”

---

Zara sat curled up on the end of the couch, trying to keep warm. Regardless of what she was wearing, she couldn’t seem to shake the cold. Her previous thoughts of hating the heat were coming back to haunt her. She jumped when she felt something rest against her shoulders until she saw the Sith was laying a thick blanket across her.

“Uh, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, my dear.”

He sat down next to her, far enough away that they weren’t touching.

“It unfortunately gets very cold at night here.”

“Where are we, Hoth?”

“No, but a planet very similar.”

“Stars how do you deal with it?”

“I manage.”

She pulled the blanket tighter around herself and shivered.

“May I ask you what your name was before?”

“You may. However, for every question I answer you need to answer two of mine.”

“Two? How is that fair?”

“Who said anything about fair?”

She looked over at him and scowled at his sly grin. She turned so she was facing him more with her knees pulled up to her chest. He was already turned slightly to the side with his legs spread apart and his arm thrown over the back of the couch.

“Fine. What was your name.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Obi.. wow.”

“You know the name?”

“I do. Master Jinn spoke of you often while Anakin and I were training.”

He rolled his jaw before forcing the emotion to fall from his face. He was smiling again before she even could comprehend that he had been upset.

“What planet are you from?”

“Alderaan.”

“Good family?”

“The best. Wonderful parents. Well off. Supportive in my quest to become a Jedi.”

“Interesting. That explains your education and manners.”

She shrugged and smiled softly.

“Can I assume you’re from Coruscant?”

“No. I don’t really remember though I was very young when I went there. Thus, the accent.”

“Makes sense. The Jedi usually take in children at a young age.”

“You mean steal them.”

Not wanting to anger him more, she fell silent.

“Were you at the temple before Anakin?”

“Yes. Not very long though. Maybe a week or two if I remember correctly.”

“Then I just missed you it seems.”

She nodded and shivered again.

“What is the extent of your relationship with Skywalker?”

Her head shot up at that question. She looked him directly in his eyes and saw a cautious curiosity.

“I’ve told you. He’s my best friend.”

“It seems deeper than that. He was positively furious when I called you darling.”

“He’s.. protective. He had to leave his mother and I was the first person he truly connected to after that. Master Windu worried he was corrupting me but there were many times he kept me sane.”

“Explain more, please.”

She smirked and shook her head.

“You’re being awfully careful not to ask another question.”

“Trying to play by the rules, my dear.”

She chuckled and played with the edge of the blanket.

“I think maybe if there hadn’t been a code, we would have grown closer.”

“So, you turned him down.”

“Not necessarily. It’s not like we talked about it. We just knew it wasn’t what the Jedi would need from us. Have you ever been in love?”

“Yes.”

She decided not to press him more when his answer was clipped. She lowered her eyes and chewed on her bottom lip again.

“Do you love Anakin?”

“I.. I’ve never let myself love anyone. My destiny is to be a Jedi Master. I won’t let anything deter that.”

“Interesting. So, you don’t indulge in physical pleasure?”

She snorted and he raised his eyebrows in response.

“I’m not a prude. I just don’t let myself feel possessive or attached to them.”

“So, why not with Anakin then? You two are already close.”

She shrugged and laughed, her face feeling warm.

“Doesn’t really need to be thought about. It didn’t happen and won’t.”

“You’re rather open with me. Not what I expected considering who your Master was.”

“I would rather give you this information willingly in a way that I can benefit from it. Considering what the alternative is I think it’s safer that way.”

He chuckled and carded his hand through his hair again.

“You are wise beyond your years, darling. I do wonder why you were so willing to tell me about Anakin though. You know he is in danger.”

“Nothing that I told you is anything you couldn’t have found out just by watching us. You actually probably would have assumed there was more to it. I know the counsel did many times.”

Zara let out a yawn, trying to cover her face as she did. Veth chuckled and stood, motioning for her to lay down on the couch.

“There is a spare room, but it is much warmer out here. I’ll check on the fire throughout the night.”

She curled up and made sure the blanket was wrapped tightly around her. He added more wood to the fire and dusted his hands off as he stood up. He paused at the doorway and looked at the sleepy Jedi on his couch.

“Goodnight, Zara.”

“Goodnight, Lord Veth.”

“You can call me Obi Wan, if you’d prefer.”

“I thought we weren’t friends, Obi Wan?”

“You’re starting to grow on me a bit, darling.”

With a smirk he left, leaving her even more confused than the first time she met him. Zara was terrified of the situation she was in but knew she had to play his game. As she drifted to sleep, she worried about her best friend and what they could possibly want from him. She had to find a way to warn him and protect him.

“Zara. Zara dear, you need to wake up. Come on, sweetheart.”

She woke with a gasp and looked around, unaware of where she was. She jumped when she realized Obi Wan was kneeling by the couch with his hand on her shoulder. He looked worried; his hair still disheveled from sleeping.

“W-what? What is it?”

“You were crying out in your sleep. Gave me a terrible fright when I heard you. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m f-fine. Sorry. Sorry for startling you.”

“What was wrong?”

“I just.. I have nightmares. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Don’t let me keep you up.”

She sat up, pulling away from his touch. He stood and moved to the fire, tending to it like he had been doing it his entire life. She watched him as she worked on controlling her breathing. Although nightmares weren’t new to her, being woken by someone she didn’t know was. She felt ashamed and embarrassed that he had heard her crying.

“Tell me, darling, do the Jedi know of your nightmares?”

“It’s hard to find one of us who doesn’t have them. War never really leaves us.”

“You’re fighting against a droid army.”

“We don’t use droids to fight.”

Her voice was harsh and clipped, surprising Obi Wan. He walked to her, stopping only to kneel in front of her on the floor. She wrapped the blanket tighter around her and watched him with unease.

“You really do care about your clones, don’t you?”

“They’re people. Living breathing people. Their history or how they came to life doesn’t concern me. What concerns me is-“

“Stars, Zara, they’re just clones. More can be made.”

“You sound like Senator Palpatine. So high and mighty that you have no regard for life. Even now you play games with me, dangling the idea of my death over my head. You’re no better than a bored loth cat playing with a mouse.”

“Are you comparing yourself to a rodent?”

He smirked and it infuriated Zara. She snarled and tried to get up, wanting space between the two of them. Before she could even fully try, Obi Wans hands shot out and grabbed her thighs tightly, keeping her in place.

“No, Lord Veth, I am comparing you to a predator with absolutely no humanity. Your tricks will not work on me. You may have been a Jedi once, but it is clear as day that you are no longer harboring any shred of light in you. Go ahead and pretend that you’re civil and sophisticated while you keep me prisoner on this despot of a planet. It doesn’t matter how kind or human you pretend to be. You’re nothing short of a monster. You’ll never be able to hide the evil coursing through you when it burns so brightly through your eyes.”

Zara held back a wince as his grip tightened on her legs. The normal playfulness that he usually held on his face was long gone. The more she spoke, the angrier he became.

“There she is. There is the conceited Jedi I knew had to have been in there. I saved your life, little knight. I spared your men knowing that it would harm you to wipe them out. I let you stay awake and conscious of what was happening. I gave you my clothes to wear so you would be warm and let you know parts of me that I didn’t need to divulge. Without me, you would be dead along with your entire regiment.”

“How do I even know a single thing you’ve said to me is true? Sith lie.”

“Now you question my integrity? When have you discovered anything I have said to you is a lie?”

“It all has to be a lie! Why would anyone that follows the dark want Anakin? He is a good man. He is devoted to those he loves and the family he has created within the order. He would never fall to the dark side. He wouldn’t do that to them. He wouldn’t do that to-“

“To what? Or were you going to say to who? He wouldn’t do that to you. Is that what you were going to say? Hmm?”

When Zara fell silent Obi Wan laughed out darkly.

“My dear, pull the right strings and anyone could fall to the dark. He has a weakness, and it is you.”

“It’s not like that with me!”

“Does he know that? You see, I have been in love before and it didn’t matter how far away I ended up from her. It never went away. Even once I heard of her death, I still mourned her and the love we could have shared if I had just let myself fall.”

She shook her head quickly.

“He will do what our master’s ask of us. He will help win this war and-“

“Now who is the liar, Zara? I’ve heard some doozies coming from the lips of Jedi, but I have never heard someone so willing to lie when the truth is right in their face. The fall of Anakin Skywalker has already begun. Your absence, regardless of what is causing it, is going to make him desperate. He will do anything to either get you back or avenge you. Look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m wrong.”

Zara opened her mouth to argue but quickly shut it.

“That’s what I thought.”

He released her legs and stood, looking down at her with anger.

“Get some rest. Lack of sleep makes you ungrateful and it’s not a good look.”

Once he was in his room, punctuated by a slam of his door, Zara finally let her tears fall. She wanted to talk to Master Windu to get clarity. She needed to hear that Veth, Obi Wan, whoever he was, was wrong. Feeling hopeless and helpless wasn’t something she was accustomed to and it was tearing her to shreds.

[arcturusreads]

idk if you’re still accepting prompts but if you are can you do a merhayes first kiss? how do you think we’ll get it next season?

First Kiss - Merhayes

Honestly, I'm not entirely sure how we'll get the first kiss. I feel like we're going to be cheated out of a lot of their first with the time jump but I hope you enjoy this!

Cormac Hayes had known that he had wanted to kiss Meredith for a long time. Too long. It took him a month after this realisation to ask her out on a date. Their work schedules had meant that it had taken a further two weeks before they managed to go on said date. During those two weeks, Cormac hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Meredith. He swore she was everywhere he turned in the hospital, her name always being called by someone, her laughter ringing in corridors.

On their first date, Cormac still felt a little hesitant to kiss her. He didn’t want to try and cram in too many firsts at the same time at the risk of being overwhelmed. Whilst he was certain of taking this step forward, knowing that both his boys and Irene had given him their blessing and Abi wanting him to move on, he wasn’t quite prepared to go headfirst into the dating scene. Easing in seemed like the best way to go.

By their third date, Cormac had taken Meredith to the Seattle Japanese Garden before they headed down to the beach for a picnic at sunset, he couldn’t stop staring at her lips. He felt like a teenage boy with his first crush all over again. When he’d driven Meredith home, the two of them spent half an hour chatting on her porch swing. He shifted himself closer to her, moving his calloused hand so it enveloped her. The lull in their conversation had presented him with the perfect timing. As Cormac had leaned in closer to Meredith, the scent of lavender suddenly overwhelming his senses, she jumped up from her seat so quickly that she could have had whiplash.

Slightly taken about by the sudden movement, Cormac looked up at her with a furrowed brow before slowly standing up, “Is-uh, everything okay, Meredith?”

He hadn’t been sure when he had exchanged Grey for Meredith, somewhere between this date and the last. What he did know though, was that he loved the way her name rolled off his tongue.

Taking a step away from Cormac, Meredith looked slightly worried. “Yeah, I just realised the time. I should really go in; I’ve got an early surgery tomorrow.”

Cormac wasn’t quite convinced. It was only just gone ten o’clock and he knew that Meredith was a night owl. She’d gotten into the habit of texting him the most random of questions at 1 AM and would walk into work five hours later, fresh as a daisy, if not a little grumpy if she hadn’t had coffee yet. Even so, he decided not to argue with Meredith about it.

“Night, Cormac,” she whispered, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek before going inside.

Cormac heaved a sigh, hands in his coat pockets he walked back to his car, head down. He couldn’t help but feel a little like a kicked puppy. Maybe he had just gotten the signal wrong…. Maybe she had. Or hadn’t. Maybe Meredith knew that he was going to kiss her and pulled away on purpose. It seemed the more likely of the two options. It was the option that hurt him the most. Cormac had thought their dates had gone well. Why would you go on three dates with someone if they hadn’t gone well? Having spent days building up to this moment, Cormac went home feeling deflated. He knew that it was completely up to her whether she had wanted to kiss him but that didn’t stop him from feeling like a fool for the rest of the night.

Work the next day had been unbearably awkward. Meredith had made a beeline for the door anytime they were in a room together and Cormac had no clue what to even say to her if he did manage to catch her. It wasn’t until the both of them were forced into an OR together that they had to face each other. Meredith was the first one to break the silence, not wanting the rest of the staff in the room to feel awkward given that this was going to be a long surgery.

“How was Austin feeling about his history test today?” She briefly looked up from the open abdomen and caught his eye.

Cormac felt his shoulders relax a little after hearing the warmth in Meredith’s voice. At least he could rule out her being upset with him. The two began an easy conversation over the OR table but as Cormac began to relax, Meredith felt a tightly wound coil of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. It hadn’t managed to leave her throughout the entire six-hour surgery.

When the patient was finally stabilised, Cormac looked up and grinned at Meredith. The memory of what had, or hadn’t, happened last night temporarily wiped from his brain and he rode on the adrenaline of being able to save the eight-year-old girl lying in front of them.

“Shall we go and tell the parents, Grey?” Her name was only reserved for their moments alone. Away from the prying eyes of the Grey-Sloan staff.

“You go,” Meredith quickly replied, “I’ll close up.”

“Are you sure? Because I think Helm could handle it.”

She shook her head and she asked for prolene, “I’m sure, it’s been a long surgery and I just want to see the whole thing through, but you should go. Her parents are going to be waiting.” That wasn’t exactly the reason, she was just dodging an inevitable conversation between the two of them. One that she needed to prepare herself for just a little bit more.

It hadn’t taken very long for Meredith to close the little girl up. She’d meant to take her time, but autopilot had kicked in. Her hands knew the routine without her even needing to think about it. So, instead, she took her sweet time scrubbing out, barely keeping up with the conversation that Helm was trying to hold beside her. When she finally walked out of the OR, she saw that Cormac was still stood by the OR board updating his tablet. She quietly walked past him, hoping that he would be too engrossed with patient charts to see her but luck was not on her side.

“Grey!”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Meredith slowly turned on her heel to face Cormac.

“It was a good surgery today.”

“Yeah. Saving a patient is usually a good sign,” the sarcasm that she used as a defence mechanism had slipped out before she’d been able to stop it.

Cormac raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything else, turning back to his tablet. Huffing out a breath of air, Meredith knew that it was better to have this conversation now rather than later. She’d spent all last night stewing on what had happened after she’d gone home. After much prodding from Amelia, Maggie and surprisingly Winston who seemed to be just as invested in her love life as her sisters were, she’d told them what had happened. How she had basically run from Cormac the moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Amelia had ended up howling in laughter. The Meredith Grey, Chief of General Surgery and Catherine Fox Award winner, had run away from a kiss. That had ended up earning Amelia a pillow in the face. When Meredith had finally managed to get around to the reason why, the look of amusement on all their faces had soon turned to one of sympathy. Truth be told, Meredith would have preferred the former.

They’d all had a point though, as much as she hated to admit it. She needed to talk to Cormac about what had happened. He didn’t deserve to be in the dark about what was going on. What was the point in drawing this out any longer? The anxiety had continued to gnaw itself away at her stomach and she needed rid of the feeling.

“Actually, Hayes,” He looked back up as he handed his tablet back to a nurse. Meredith removed her scrub cap, twisting it in her hands. “Can we talk?”

Nodding, Cormac followed as Meredith began to walk away. They stood in silence as they entered the lift. Meredith stopped when they got to the walkway that was directly across from the large glass window panes. Sighing in relief when she realised that no one else was around, she rested her forearms on the railing. Cormac stood next to her in silence, waiting to see what she had to stay.

“About yesterday…” Meredith began, looking out of the windows.

Cormac winced a little. He had a feeling that this was going to be what she wanted to talk about. The ease of the conversation from earlier was no longer present and Cormac began to worry that maybe Meredith didn’t want to see him anymore.

“Aye,” he pulled his scrub cap off, running a hand over his head in embarrassment. “Look, Meredith, I’m sorry if I read the signal wrong. I just thought…”

Quickly shaking her head, Meredith reached out a hand and placed it on Cormac’s arm. “No, you didn’t.”

Slightly confused, Cormac cocked his head. “So, what happened?”

Removing her hand, Meredith didn’t know where to look. The look on Cormac’s face made her chest ache. The care and concern he had for her evident in every line of his face. She decided to look back out to the windows again where the sun was slowly making its decline.

“It’s stupid,” she muttered under her breath.

“Try me, Mer.”

Rubbing her face with her hands, Meredith went slightly red. “I was scared,” mumbling as quietly as she could.

Cormac leaned in closer, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said I was scared!” She snapped at him.

This did nothing to aid in abetting Cormac’s confusion. “Scared?” He asked, making sure that he was hearing correctly.

“Yes. Scared. Which is stupid and idiotic because… well because it’s one of your firsts and it isn’t one of mine.” At this point, Meredith had begun to pace back and forth. “But everything feels different with you. I know I told you that Andrew was the first person I said I love you to after Derek and I did love him, but I wasn’t in love with him. Some parts always felt missing, like sitting a square peg in a round hole. And with you, it feels like there’s a chance of something so good and so right that it scares me. It scares me because I haven’t felt like this for so long, Cormac, and I’m afraid that it’s all going to disappear because the minute that you kiss me, I know that I’m not going to be able to turn back. I know that I’m not going to want to.”

Cormac gently caught Meredith’s arm to stop her from pacing. “You’re not stupid. You’re daft but you’re not stupid.”

Meredith continued to look down at her trainers, too embarrassed after blurting out all her feelings to say anything.

“I’ve been terrified of kissing you, Meredith. Do you know how much I had to psych myself up for yesterday?”

“I’m sorry.”

Cormac shook his head at her, giving her a warm smile. “I’m not saying it to make you feel bad. I can’t promise that I’m not going anywhere, and you can’t promise me that either, we both know that bad things happen all the time but I can promise that I’m not planning on willingly leaving you anytime soon. Grey, some things are worth the risk…” He trailed off as he laced his fingers with her, gently pulling her closer to him.

“What do you say, Meredith? Am I worth the risk?” His mouth was inches from her own, s faint smirk placed upon it and his breath fanned her face.

“Stupid, cocky Irishman,” Meredith muttered before closing the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck and she reached up on her tiptoes.

Cormac held onto her waist, not wanting to let her go. Anyone looking on would have seen the two silhouettes bathed in an orange glow, completely ignoring the world around them.

When they finally broke apart, Cormac had a huge grin on his face. As much as Meredith wanted to roll her eyes, she couldn’t help but match his smile.

“So, are you going to answer my question?” He teased.

Hitting his chest, Meredith just laughed before kissing him again.

[teamhappyme]

and then 49 from the fluff prompts with carisi!!

finally got the inspo for this one!!! thanks for the requests red, this one came in handy for a nice brain break from school work today.

pairing: sonny carisi x female!reader

prompt: “he’s an idiot. but he’s my idiot.”

warnings: none

word count: 1.3k

****

Leave it to the Carisi’s to make a party out of anything. It was labor day weekend, and before the kids went back to school, Sonny’s parents wanted to have one last summer cookout. All of Sonny’s sisters and their kids were here, along with a few neighbors and random aunts and uncles scattered throughout.

You were never intimidated by the size of the Carisi clan. You came from a large family yourself, so the first time you met the crazy italians, you felt right at home. 

You were currently helping Bella plate the cannoli in the kitchen, swatting at sticky little hands until Sonny had suggested a wiffle ball game in the backyard. He recruited Mia, Teresa, two neighbors that you’d yet to meet, and Bella’s young daughter. The toddler was glued to Mia’s hip, not letting her cousin go anywhere without her.

“Looks like she got really attached to Mia this summer, huh?” You nodded to the window, Bella looking at the two girls together.

“She did. It was a blessing having her nanny a few days a week these last few months. Her relationship with Mia is really sweet, reminds me of me and my sisters.”

“When you’re not at each other’s throats.” You added and she laughed.

“Exactly. But, she’s going to be three in the spring, and seeing her with Mia, Tommy and I got to talking. I think we’re gonna start trying for another baby.”

You looked over at her, hands freezing over the tray of cannoli. You couldn’t help the smile growing on your face, always excited to welcome a new baby in the world. “Bella that’s amazing. I’m happy for you guys.”

“Thank you. But, don’t say anything to my ma or sisters. They’ll be up my ass until I get a positive test.” 

You smiled. “Your secret is safe with me.”

The two of you finished plating the dessert and setting out the utensils when the back door swung open, Mia running to the two of you.

“Uncle Sonny’s hurt.” 

You dropped the plates you were holding, following Mia out to the backyard. “What do you mean he’s hurt? You guys were playing wiffle ball,” You started as you walked down the steps, the scene unfolding right in front of you.

Sonny was sitting up in a plastic lawn chair, his hand pressing against his right shoulder that looked like it was popped out of its socket. Teresa was holding her own arm as she bickered with Sonny and their father. Leave it to Teresa to stir up some drama over a wiffle ball game.

Once he saw you coming over to him, you saw him let out a breath he was holding in. You knew he was holding back and wanted to yell at his sister. Honestly, you wouldn’t blame him this time. 

You crouched down next to Sonny, pushing some hair off his forehead as you saw just how much his shoulder was sagging. His breathing was a little labored, you could tell he was in a lot of pain. 

“What happened, honey?”

“Dominick ran straight through second base, and when I tried to tag him, he dodged, and we slipped on the grass and fell. Jesus, Dominick it’s wiffle ball, you’re not supposed to dodge and tackle things!” Teresa answered, and Sonny rolled his eyes.

“If you weren’t so competitive you wouldn’t have chased me around the yard!” He rebutted, and you tucked your mouth into your shoulder, trying to hold back your laughter at yet another Carisi family fight. They were always over the most trivial things. 

As the two siblings continued to go at each other, Bella finally stepped in to end the fighting. “Alright, no one cares about the stupid game anymore. Everyone, go inside and eat the dessert while Sonny figures out what he’s gonna do.”

You watched as the group of them flooded into the house, Sonny’s mother pressing a kiss to his head on her way in. Bella stayed behind, knowing you might need backup to get Sonny to tell the truth.

“Did you pop it out?” You asked once everyone was gone, and he nodded the slightest bit. 

“I felt it pop out. I heard it crack too.” You sighed, knowing you’d have to go to the hospital to get it checked out. 

“Bella, hand me his sweatshirt so I can make a sling.” She grabbed his sweatshirt from the table, and watched as you wrapped it around his shoulder and chest. It would keep his left arm from getting tired too. “Alright, let's get you in the truck and down to the hospital.”

“We’re going to Mercy. I don’t want to be stuck on Staten Island because of Labor Day traffic tonight.” You smiled as you helped him stand up, staying close to his side as you walked to the street. 

You pulled his keys from his short pockets, unlocking the truck and carefully getting him into the passenger side. Once he was settled, you gently shut the door and let out a sigh. 

“God, he’s such an idiot.” Bella commented. You would have to agree.

You smiled, rubbing a hand over your face. “He’s an idiot. But he’s my idiot.”

She laughed, and patted your shoulder before rounding the truck to the drivers side. “I’ll keep you updated.” You told her and she nodded before making her way back into the house.

It took you an hour to get to Mercy, but Sonny insisted on getting back to Manhattan before the weekend was over. He jumped with every pothole you hit, squeezing his eyes shut whenever the pain hit again. And after two hours waiting in the emergency room, you found out that Sonny had torn his rotator cuff. It was all in the fall, the doctor said, and it had Sonny shaking his head. He’d need surgery in a few days and would be stuck at the desk for at least a month. 

All from a silly wiffle ball game. 

Once the doctor excused herself, Sonny deflated and rested his head against the wall.

“Of course this would happen to me. Who else would need shoulder surgery after taking a spill in a wiffle ball game with their nieces?” 

“Only you.” He opened his eyes to look at you, still in his sulking posture, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain, but it is pretty funny.”

You got him to laugh now too, and reached for you with his good arm. You moved to stand between his legs as he pushed himself off the wall. He held your left hand, linking his fingers with yours.

“I know you know I’m an idiot, but did you have to agree with Bella?” You laughed, knowing how much his sisters loved to pick on him.

“Under any other circumstances, I would’ve defended you. But, you fell in a wiffle ball game, Sonny. And now you need surgery. Sounds idiotic to me.” He bowed his head, trying to hide the smile on his face. “But like I said to Bella, you’re my idiot. And I love you just the way you are.”

You ran your fingers through the hair by his temple, coaxing him to look back up at you.

“You know, you can be pretty stupid too.” You smiled as he wrapped his good arm around your waist.

“Oh, I know I can be. And that’s why we work so well together.”

He smiled, dimples on display, before leaning in for a kiss. You smiled into it, loving the dork you got to spend the rest of your life with. He pulled away, and you lightly kissed his lips one more time. 

“I love you, stupid.” You laughed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“I love you more, idiot.”

****

[bqstqnbruin]

Teach me something 3

The Bruins winning the series means another part of this fic (I’m so sorry to my canes followers [if I even have any wait do I?] I still love you pls don’t hate me but as someone from Connecticut we’re still bitter that the Whalers left and went to Carolina in the first place again don’t hate me)

Will I ever write the requests that y’all have sent in? Who knows (JK you know I will)

I hope you like this! 

ALSO a warning, this partially takes place in the hospital

Read the other parts:  part 1 // part 2 // part 4

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

“Good morning, everyone, and welcome to Chemistry class!” you say in what was probably perceived as an overly chipper tone, but you were genuinely excited to start the new school year, especially after missing the end of last year. “I’m Mrs. Tkachuk, and I know that most of you probably hate ice breakers, especially since you’re going to be doing them all week, but today is just going over the syllabus, getting to know me, and then we’re going to spend the rest of class doing a little chemistry-related ‘get to know you’ activity.” Some of your students roll their eyes, some even groan. “It’s chem class, guys, what did you expect?” 

You spend the first part of the morning with the boring stuff, the class expectations, listening to them groan over the fact that you give what weren’t technically pop quizzes, but were something very similar, having them break into chatter when you said you gave one partner test per quarter, and that they got to pick which unit was the partner test expect during the third quarter, and then have no reaction at the chemistry jokes that you made throughout the class. 

“So, do you guys have any questions for me?” you ask, glancing over at the clock. You had half the period left to go through your little PowerPoint, then have them do their activity. One of the boys in the back of the room raises his hand. “Robbie, right?”

“Yeah, are you related to Matthew Tkachuk?” A few of the boys around him start to murmur over whether or not you were, definitely excited by the possibility, especially since they were all wearing jackets for the hockey club they were part of.

“I meant about the syllabus, but I’ll answer that in a sec, ok? Any questions about the syllabus before I tell you about myself?” you ask the class, none of them raising their hands in hopes of knowing whether or not Matthew was related to you. God, you hoped not. “Ok, then.” 

You turn on the projector, the screen filled with a short PowerPoint that you showed every year, updating every so often. You started telling them about where you were from, where you went to school, even that you used to dance with the Stampede. “So, I’m not related to Matthew Tkachuk,” you say, the boys seemingly deflated by that fact. You switch slides, a picture of you and him on the ice after their most recent Stanley Cup win, the one from your wedding that was your phone background for so long, one of you, Matthew, and your son, Oliver when he was a year old, and the newest one, the two of you with you a now three-year-old Ollie, and your newborn daughter, Tessa. “He is my husband. You might have heard that I was out for the last two months of last school year because of maternity leave, and I’m also surprised that you didn’t already know I was married to him considering he’s come with me to school events plenty of times. Maybe you’ll even get to meet him.” 

The rest of the class goes fine: the students making ‘their elemental symbol,’ which they surprisingly like doing; their initials were the symbol, and they decorated it with things they liked and things that represented them. You told them you would be making a class periodic table on the windows behind them, leading to all the hockey boys begging to be together so they could do one coherent background image. You couldn’t help but laugh, thinking of how Matthew would get his friends to do the same thing if given the opportunity. 

Every period brought up the same questions about you and Matthew: the girls wanted to know how you met (you met at a bar but that seemed a little inappropriate to tell your high schoolers, saying you met at a charity function was what you went with), how’d you come up with the names for your children (weird, but fine: you came up with Oliver just because you’ve always loved the name, Matthew came up with Tessa because it was the closest name to his sisters that he could think of without actually naming her Taryn as well, and he adores his sister, so why not?), the boys asked how much of his team you knew (all of them), how many games you went to (as many as you could but it was hard with children), can you get them free tickets (no). Teachers weren’t supposed to share a lot about their personal life, but the students could probably find enough of this information out on social media, even though you kept your own accounts private. 

You have one more period before the end of the day, luckily you had a prep time, even though there wasn’t much to do since it was the beginning of the year. While browsing through your roster for your last class, your room phone starts to ring. 

“Chucky’s room,” you answer, using the nickname your husband’s teammates used for him.

“Hi, Y/N, your husband called. He said he needed you to call him back and that it was urgent. Margot said she would cover your last class,” the school secretary says from the other end.

“What? Is everything ok?” you ask, trying to stretch the chord of the phone long enough to reach your phone at your desk. 

“He didn’t say, he just said to call him. I’m assuming you have to leave, so you’re good to just go.”

You hang up, starting to panic. What happened to him? What about Ollie? What if it was Tessa? Oh my god, what if something happened to all three of them? You start to panic, preparing for the worst as you dial Matthew’s number and pack up your bag as fast as you can. “Babe, what’s wrong?” 

“You need to meet us at Alberta Children’s Hospital as soon as you can, ok?” you hear him say, the same panic in your voice that you started to feel. 

“Matthew, what happened?” you say, Margot standing in your doorway, sensing your panic. ‘What’s going on?’ she mouths to you as you hold up a finger to her, waiting for Matthew’s answer.

“It’s Oliver, don’t worry, just get here, please. I need you.” He hangs up before you can say anything else.

“Telling me don’t worry and get to the children’s hospital because of Oliver in the same sentence is oxymoronic,” you say to Margot, not really knowing what else to tell her, “Just tell them they can hang out or something, not to get too loud. Hand out the syllabus, tell them don’t worry about it because I’ll see them soon. Tell them I’ll be emailing them tonight so to check their school accounts, but I had a family emergency,” you spit out to her as she just nods along.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but he’ll be alright. Let me know if you need anything.” 

She brings you in for a hug, trying to calm your nerves even though it didn’t really work. You run out of the door right before the bell rings, students swarming around you as you try to beat them down the staircase. The upperclassmen who had study halls this period were also allowed to leave, a privilege none of them had lost yet since it was the beginning of the year, which means you had to battle with them to get out of the single entrance your school had. 

You were shaking, trying to plug in the directions to the hospital as you were walking to your car, praying that it would save you some time to just get the hell out of there and go see what happened to Oliver.

Why didn’t Matthew tell you what was wrong? How bad was it that it could only be said in person? Or was it something trivial and he just didn’t want to say it over the phone? Either way, why didn’t he tell you? What was wrong with Oliver? Your mind was racing the entire drive there, nothing that you could think of or listen to could take your mind off the fact that your husband was waiting in the hospital with your son, for who knows what reason? 

You rush into the hospital, bag on your arm, hands shaking, ready to cry and just wanting to find your son. “I’m looking for Oliver Tkachuk? T-k-a-c-h-u-k. I’m his mother,” you frantically say to the lady at the desk. 

“Sorry, I can’t give you any information right now, the doctor is still with him,” she says, trying to give you a reassuring smile. 

“Is there anything you can tell me? Where he is? If his father is here? Where his father is? Anything about how long it will be?” you start to spit out, a constant stream of panic running through you, “Sorry, sorry, that was a lot. Are you sure there’s nothing you can tell me about my son? If I can where my husband is can I go to him?”

You didn’t mean to panic at her, if that was a thing, but it just kind of happened anyway. “Yes, if you can find him that’s fine. If you take a seat right now, I can tell you something as soon as I find out if you’re still here,” she says, reassuringly. You do as she says, digging out your phone from the bottom of your bag to see if Matthew has sent you anything.

‘Hey, I’m in the emergency waiting room, where are you?’ you send him, just in case he’s in the middle of something with a doctor. Your phone buzzes immediately, him telling you where to find him. You get up, the lady at the desk nodding at you, probably assuming you were going to wander to find Matthew. 

“Y/N!” you hear Matthew call once you get up to the floor. You run to him, the panic in his voice pushing you to the verge of tears. He takes you in for a hug. You can feel his body shaking.

You look up at him, tears filling his eyes. “What happened?” 

He buries his head in your shoulder, the two of you standing in the middle of the hallway, probably in the way. “We were outside playing after lunch and I turned my back for two seconds because Tessa was crying and then I look and Oliver is crying and there’s blood everywhere because he fell, and,”

“Matthew, Matthew,” you say, trying to get him to stop. 

“I feel so bad. I can’t believe I let our son get hurt. And then I couldn’t get a hold of you because your phone was off and I just panicked and brought him here” You can feel tears soaking through your shirt. 

“Babe,” you say, pulling him off your shoulder. You’ve never seen him so upset before. He looks just like Oliver did when you told him he couldn’t have dessert before dinner. “Kids get hurt. That happens. He’s probably going to need some stitches, yeah?”

“I can’t believe I let this happen,” he says, the two of you walking to go sit down. 

“You were watching two small children at once. It was going to happen at some point, and it could happen to either of us,” you tell him, trying to get him to calm down. “There is no way you never busted your lip open or something like that when you were a child. He just takes after his father.”

“Oh no,” he says, the color nearly draining from his face as he realizes Ollie was practically going to be his mini-me.  

“Speaking of: where is our daughter? I really hope you didn’t leave her alone.”

“Oh, god, no. She’s with Rory.” You look at him, shocked that he would leave her with Rory of all people. “Ok, she was the only one within a ten-mile radius that I would trust and could reach. Out other option was Johnny. Do you trust him with our newborn daughter?” 

“Point taken,” you say, suddenly thankful for Rory. “Has the doctor said anything?”

“Just that it’s going to be a while and that he’ll come get us when he’s ready to,” Matthew says, looking down at his hands. 

You take his hand in yours. “Ollie will be alright. I promise.” 

“How are you so calm? How am I the one who’s freaking out? God, being a parent has made me soft.”

You can’t help but laugh: his last game of the season he got flat out ejected from the game because he was fighting. If that’s soft, you don’t want to see him any other way. “If both parents are freaking out that never ends well. So I’m just freaking out internally,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He kisses the top of your head, “God, I’m lucky to have you.”

“I know.” You look up at him and smile, him rolling his eyes at your modesty. “Ollie’s going to be fine. This happens to kids all the time.” 

The two of you sit there in silence, watching doctors and nurses walk by, parents and siblings going around probably trying to find their child. Matthew seems to have calmed down, a little at least. You both knew Oliver was going to be fine, but shit, was it scary to not know anything. 

You lean down to your bag, digging through it to find your computer. You might as well start drafting an email to your students now while you have time. “What are you doing?” Matthew asks, curious as the family picture you used in your slideshow pops up as your lock screen. 

“I have to email my last class. They should be out of school by now and I told Margot to have them watch for an email from me.” Matthew looks almost angry, but why? “You should come into school one day if we can get Rory to watch the kids; the boys went crazy when they found out we were married, I think they would love it if you did an experiment with them.”

“We’re literally in the hospital for our son, and you’re thinking of your students, instead?” he snips, his face starting to turn red.

You weren’t thinking of your students instead of Oliver, you were thinking of them and Oliver, just not at the same time. “Sorry that in addition to our two children, I also have, what, four class rosters of thirty students each? And my junior homeroom class? And a study hall section? My entire life is occupied by children, so sorry if I have more than just ours on my mind.” You knew this anger was coming from his worry of Oliver, but that doesn’t mean he has the right to take it out on you. “Matthew, I’m just writing them an email, and then I don’t have to worry about them until tomorrow.”

“I mean, it’s getting a little annoying that I have to stay home with the kids all day while you’re at work. I couldn’t even reach you because you don’t check your phone, and then the school said I would have to wait to hear from you until you have a free period because they couldn’t find anyone to cover your class. Do you even care about Oliver and Tessa?” He can’t believe he just said that to you. He knows your two kids mean more to you than he probably does. Before he can say he’s sorry, you start. 

“Ok, four things. One: we talked about me returning to teaching and both agreed that it was something that we were comfortable with me doing. You only have to stay home with the kids for another week before Tessa starts at daycare and Oliver starts preschool. Two: you know that I can’t have my phone out during the day. It’s not like I can call you in the middle of practice or during a game, so you being irritated about that is ridiculous. Three: the school being understaffed isn’t really my fault. Yes, they were wrong to not get a hold of me, but that, again, is not my fault. And four: the only reason you are acting like this is because you are worried about Oliver, which I understand, because, and this may shock you: I am, too. But that does not mean that you have the right to turn your worry into anger, and then take it out on your wife,” you say, surprising yourself by staying calm the entire time. “So if you excuse me, I’m going to go call Rory and check on Tessa, unless that’s something you think you should do because maybe I don’t care enough about my own children.” 

You get up and go to the end of the hallway before he can say anything. “Hey, Rory, it’s me. How’s my girl doing?”

“She poops. So much. Did you know babies poop this much? I think I’ve changed her diaper three times since Matthew dropped her off.” Maybe Johnny would have been better than Rory, but then again, you could see Johnny using a curtain as a diaper a la Uncle Jesse and Joey in Full House. 

“Yes, remember, Tessa is my second baby. Oliver pooped a lot, too,” you say, laughing. 

“I don’t remember pooping this much as a child,” you hear her say, obviously switching her phone to speaker. “Like I see why you love because she is just so cute,” you hear Tessa laughing as Rory is probably tickling her or making a stupid face as she does baby talk to her, “But the poop!” “Ror, you wouldn’t remember pooping as a child, you don’t start forming explicit memories until you’re two, but implicit memories when you’re seven. But other than the poop, how is she doing? Is she giving you any other trouble?”

“You know too much about science for a teacher,” she says, you rolling you eyes at the comment, “But, nah, she’s great. She’s probably going to nap soon? Matthew had mentioned that she normally naps around now?”

“Yep, she’s typically asleep when I get home, so put her down for a nap and keep an eye on her, please. I don’t need both my children in the hospital.” 

“Well, who else would you trust with your child?”

“Most other people I know.”

“Johnny?”

“I said most.” You finally hang after she reassures you four times that Tessa is fine with her, telling her that one of you will call when you’re leaving the hospital, whichever parent doesn’t have Oliver will go to Rory’s, and that you’ll text her with updates on Ollie if you have any. 

You walk over to Matthew, sitting in the chair with his head in his hands, his fingers intertwined with his curls. He looks up when you sit down, the look on his face saying that he was sorry for what you said. 

“You are the best mother our kids could have,” he says.

“Mr. and Mrs. Tkachuk?” a man in a white coat, stethoscope and clipboard stands in front of you. You stand up and go to him, both of you hoping for good news as Matthew puts his arm around you. “Your son is fine; he just needed stitches and a cast on his left arm. If you follow me I can take you to his room.”

“A cast? You said there was just blood,” you look at Matthew, wide-eyed and unsure if you were confused or shocked.

“There was blood! I don’t know, you’re the science teacher, you should know this stuff,” he says, trying to defend himself.

“You do understand that biology and anatomy are different from chemistry, right? Like, I love you so much, but how do you know nothing about science? I never stop talking about science.”

He just shrugs as the two of you stand outside the door of the room your son was in. “I went to school in America, babe.” You roll your eyes as he takes your hand. “Ready?” 

You nod, both of you walking into the room to see your so sitting on the bed. He looks so small with the blue cast on his arm, stitches stretching across his chin. “Mommy! Daddy!” he screams, “Look! It’s blue!” 

You can feel yourself start to cry at the sight of your son hurt, even though his curls are going in every direction as he tries to jump off the bed to show you his cast. “Oh sweetie, your chin,” you say, tilting his head up so you can get a better look at it.

“Aren’t they cool?” he screams again. “And look! They gave me a lollipop!” he holds up the yellow candy in your face, you not even noticing that he had to begin with.

“He really is your son,” you say, looking at Matthew as Oliver squirms around on the bed. 

“The stitches can be taken out in five days, so you’ll need to bring him back here to have them removed. Then for his arm, I’ll want a check after two weeks, but it probably won’t be coming off for five to seven,” the doctor starts spitting out. He hands Matthew a piece of paper from his clipboard, Matthew looking at it like it’s written in a foreign language before stuffing it in your bag. “You can take your son home, just sign the discharge papers,” he finishes, leaving the room.

“You sign the papers and get Tessa from Rory’s, all take Ollie home?” you say to him, picking up Oliver in your arms. 

Matthew nods, kissing Oliver on the head. “Daddy, can we have ice cream for dinner?” 

You both laugh, Matthew’s mini-me giving you the same puppy dog eyes that Matthew gives you when he wants something. “Only if Mommy is ok with it, but only because you got hurt.”

“We’ll get some ice cream on the way home, bub,” you say, kissing Oliver on the cheek as he squeals with joy. “See you at home, babe? With Tessa.” 

“See you at home.” 

[quicksiluers]

the silly story of grant being over everyone (rawlins) trying to mother hen him but sherman being like “yeah but i can annoy you enough to let me help you out” .........enjoy?

The Mississippi sun was sweltering. Sherman took off his hat, wiping the sweat from his forehead that had been building up throughout his ride. Whoever decided on the dark blue uniforms they had to wear didn’t seem to account for the strong summer sun that they were all suffering through.

They were 20 days into this siege around Vicksburg and he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it was exhausting. They had tried to attack the fortifications twice but each time they were repulsed. It cut deeply at him that they couldn’t breakthrough. It irked him even more that there were rumors that McClernard tried to take credit for some kind of breakthrough down on his portion of the ground. He’d string up the politician if he could, but he knew better. 

The man was still a snake as far as Sherman was concerned. 

A group of tents appeared over the small ridge his horse trotted up, soldiers and orderlies walking by him or saluting. Grant’s camp was always busy. One of the perks of being a corps commander was not having to deal with all the extra nonsense. Between the reporters, Washington, and all the other nuisances, he didn’t know how it all didn’t drive the younger general crazy.

Then again, this was Grant he was talking about. An artillery shell could explode next to him and the man wasn’t phased. 

An orderly came up and grabbed the reins of Sherman’s horse, who climbed off and pulled a cigar from his breast pocket. He worked lighting the cigar as he glanced around. The familiar head of brown hair wasn’t too hard to spot for when he was looking for Rawlins. Where Rawlins was, Grant wasn’t usually far behind. The men were almost attached at the hip. 

Yet he heard nothing from Grant’s tent, didn’t even hear the familiar string of curses that seemed to follow Rawlins as he paced around. He turned around, puffing on his cigar, and spotted a small group standing around a table. And he recognized one of them

Comstock. Perfect.

“Comstock!” Sherman started over to the group, the younger man turning to him. A hint of annoyance flashed on his face which made Sherman smirk. The guy was new but he was all business. It was something he appreciated. 

“General Sherman, what can I help you with?” 

“I was looking for General Grant...or Rawlins, either of them really.”

“They’re just finishing up looking over some of the fortifications over at McPherson’s front, we actually just arrived back there a short while ago,” Comstock shrugged, “I would expect them back any minute.”

“They still working on those mines?”

“Yes sir,” the young man smirked, an eyebrow raised, “General Grant is working on making sure that Captain Hickenlooper doesn’t get himself blown up on the process.”

A cloud of dust and hooves pounding against the dirt road caught his and Comstock’s attention. Sherman chewed on his cigar as he watched a group of cavalry officers slow down and trot into camp. He couldn’t help the smile that crept on his lips as he watched Grant ride up behind them, Rawlins right beside him. And the younger man didn’t seem to be pleased. 

As he walked closer to the pair, he watched Grant graceful unmount his horse with ease. Rawlins, in his excited state, had a bit more trouble, his boots landing on the ground with a bit more force than needed. 

It wasn’t hard hearing their one-sided conversation. “Sir you can’t just…be that close to the line! You’ve been doing i-”

Grant turned his head and fixed Rawlins with a hard stare, “I know where and where not to be on the line, John.”

Rawlins tensed up, his face flushing, but his eye caught Sherman as he approached. He deflated, “Of course sir.”

“Go down to McClernard’s line and see if Wilson has any updates,” Grant ordered, passing the reins to a waiting orderly, “bring him back up here. He doesn’t need to be down there the entire day.”

Rawlins stared at Grant for a long moment, his jaw tense, before he reluctantly nodded, “Yes sir.”

Sherman hung back, fidgeting around with his cigar. Rawlins shot one last look at Grant, then Sherman briefly, before he climbed back on his horse. He knew better than to step in between those two when there was something going on. Being on the other end of John Rawlins’ wrath was a place he didn’t like to be in. 

Grant turned, a startled look in his eyes before he schooled his expression, “Sherman...have you been here long?”

“No, I just arrived before you got here,” Sherman waved his hand, wafting the smoke from his face, “If I knew you had been gone…”

“It’s fine. Let’s get out of this sun.”

Walking together to his tent, Sherman was quick to notice the younger man’s face pinch slightly. There was also a small scratch on his cheek, a little swipe of blood staining it. He brushed off the concern. It wasn’t as if it could kill him.  

“McPherson’s still working on that mine...,” Grant advised, passing through the tent opening and into the shaded area, “I haven’t set a date yet...they’re still working on how far they can dig toward the rebels line.”

“Would it just be in one area?”

“Yes, but I think we’ll have artillery going on along your and McClernard’s fronts at the same time.” The commanding general took off his hat, that pinched expression flashing on his face again. Sherman noted that he placed the hat rather gingerly down on the table. 

He raised an eyebrow at that, pulling the cigar from his mouth. “How was Mac’s line? Anything pestering him down there?”

“No...just sharpshooters, per usual.”

Grant sunk into his chair, lightly cradling his right wrist. It was a subtle motion but having been around him for so long, Sherman was able to pick it up. The Rawlins argument clicked in his head. 

“You didn’t happen to...by chance...get shot at by one of these sharpshooters did you?”

The glare Grant’s blue eyes leveled at him would have thrown off anyone else. Hell, the first time he had gotten it, it had thrown him off. It wasn’t a look that Sherman often saw except for when Grant was reaching his tipping point. And the tipping point was not somewhere he normally wanted to be. 

But he was never one to back down from a challenge, “You’re too valuable to be in that kind of dan-”

“I know what I am General.”

Oh boy. Well. This wasn’t going well. 

“I know you know sir.”

Grant bristled up on his chair, unconsciously rubbing his wrist, “Then there is no need to talk about it.”

A wave of annoyance washed over him. Grant had told him to be careful just over a week ago and now he didn’t want to take the same advice? Sherman took in Grant’s appearance, looking beyond the cradled wrist and scratched face. His hands had white bandages wrapped around them. The circles under his eyes seemed darker as well. Was he taking care of himself? It seemed beyond Sherman that Rawlins, who practically watched every move the general made, would let that happen. 

But then Rawlins’ frustrated face came to his mind. The curt reply, the ease in which he seemed to give up his fight with Grant. Maybe he had been trying to take care of Grant and the man just wasn’t letting him do it. He was stubborn as a mule at times. 

It was something he was sure that Ellen could relate to when it came to dealing with him.

“With all due respect....sir,” Sherman pressed, taking a step forward, “I hate to be so blunt but you look like absolute shit.”

The two generals stared at each other, the silence growing tense. Maybe he overstepped his bounds. Grant was still his superior officer, even though they were close. But dammit he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. They couldn’t have Grant acting like this. He was the rock of this army. And if something were to happen, McClernard would be the highest-ranking out of the three corps commanders and Sherman would rather roll over dead than take orders from that weasel.

A light laugh broke up his spiraling thoughts. Grant’s stern expression was gone, his shoulders slumping back into the chair, “I can’t argue with that…”

Sherman perked up, “I mean you could…”

“Would you like me to?”

The redhead shrugged, “It’s up to you, sir.”

Grant rolled his eyes, “You can be exhausting.”

“But that’s why you love me,” he stated matter of factly, walking over to the table. He grabbed the opposite chair and sat back in it, grinning more with Grant’s second eye roll.

“Don’t push your luck.”

They both laughed, Sherman’s overpowering Grant’s. This was more like it. The younger man seemed more at ease now, flexing his fingers ever so often. That small wall he seemed to always have up was lowered a bit. Sherman took small pride in that. Grant was a hard man to read, even for him. But there were times that he could see through...and see someone who was as stressed and tired as he was.

“Rawlins...he means well. And I appreciate that. But he can be…,” Grant paused, waving his hand absentmindedly. 

“Overbearing? Like a mother hen?”

“Do you say those things behind his back?” the younger general asked with a raised eyebrow. Sherman shrugged again, “I just say what I see.”

Grant chuckled softly, resting his arm on the table. “We were down along the lines...there was more activity than I think he liked. A few shots went off close to us and he just...tackled me to the ground.”

Sherman stared at him for a long moment, processing. “He...tackled you to the ground?”

The commanding general nodded.

He snorted, covering his mouth to muffle his laughter. The image was almost too comical. 

“He meant well, but I don’t need my chief of staff throwing me to the ground and sitting on top of me.”

Sherman snorted again, leaning forward and hiding his face. He wouldn’t mind being on top of Grant. 

Wait. 

No. 

Brush that thought away immediately. 

Calming himself, were his cheeks flushed?, he sat back up and looked over at Grant. The younger man was looking at him expectantly, a hint of a smile on his lips. 

“I assume,” Sherman remarked, tapping his hand on the table near Grant’s arm, “That’s how your arm or wrist started to bother you?”

The general drummed his fingers lightly on the desk, the small pinch back on his face briefly. He would take that as a yes.

“I fell on it awkwardly...scratched my palms a bit,” he moved his hand, the bandages shifting, “Rawlins tried to make up for it, but I didn’t mention my wrist.”

“Why not?”

“He’d have probably thrown me in an ambulance cart and I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

“True,” Sherman nodded, turning in the chair. He held out his hand across the table, “You should probably get it looked at though.”

Grant tilted his head slightly, “By you?”

“Well if you don’t want Rawlins to find out.”

Grant pulled up his coat and shirt sleeve up to his elbow. The bandages around his hand were haphazard at best and Sherman got to work unwrapping them first. The cuts couldn’t be that bad. He placed the bandages to the side and gently tugged Grant’s hand closer to him, looking over the palm and up to the wrist. There were hints of black and blue already forming around the area. 

“Well, you definitely hurt it.”

“Next thing you’ll tell me the sky is blue.”

Sherman huffed, turning his wrist gently over in his hand, “I am older, so I do happen to be wiser.”

Grant hummed, carefully flexing his fingers. That was good at least. Maybe it was just bruising, a possible sprain. 

“I can make you a splint, so you can at least keep it from getting worse,” he reassured, “I don’t think it’s hurt too much, more of a nuisance than anything else.”

Sherman got up, busying himself with looking around the tent for supplies. Bandages, check. Something that looked like a split, sure. He tried to think what else he would need, thought back to when he was younger, and would...accidentally fall out of a tree or do something else dumb to hurt himself. Most times Ellen or John were there, scolding him. The memory made him chuckle.

It took him a moment to realize that Grant had all this stuff at the ready, lying around his tent. Why visit the medical area when all of it is available at your fingertips? He glanced back quickly at the other man, who had his eyes closed and seemed to be sinking down lower in his chair. 

When was the last time he got some proper sleep?

“You’re in luck, for I happen to be a master at this sort of thing,” Sherman proclaimed, sitting back down at the table. Grant blinked, a little groggy at first before his gaze fell back on the other man. 

“Should I be surprised?”

“A bit more grateful perhaps,” he unraveled some of the bandages, working to find one of the right lengths, “I am helping you from feeling the wrath of your chief of staff.”

Grant outstretched his hand again and stayed silent as Sherman wrapped the bandages around his palm and then his wrist. The trick was making it tight enough to keep anything from moving but not making it uncomfortable or bothersome. John had wrapped his ankle once and it lasted all of five seconds before Sherman tore the thing off because it was too tight.

His leg bounced up and down at he worked. The silence was killing him. Grant had a tendency to just sit quietly, sometimes for long periods of time, which Sherman just couldn’t comprehend. How did his mind not race with every outcome that could happen at their next turn? He couldn’t understand it, the sheer idea of being with his own thoughts scared him half to death at times. It’s one of the reasons he never shut up. 

“Was there a reason you came by today?”

Sherman glanced up from the splint, “I’m sorry?”

“You obviously came to my headquarters to talk about something,” Grant stated matter of factly, his eyebrow risen slightly, “Was there a specific thing that you needed to speak with me about?”

His hands paused, slightly stunned from the question. Why had he come to headquarters?

Nothing sprung to mind. Shit. 

“I just wanted to come and check-in with how things were,” he replied nonchalantly, working to keep the splint in place, “I thought it would be better to discuss it in person.”

No reply came from the younger general and Sherman focused back on his work. It wasn’t technically a lie, a bit of a half-truth really. He had been getting updates through courier messages the past week which was fine. But even though their bases weren’t that far away, he hadn’t seen Grant in much of that time. 

It’s not like it bothered him.

That would be ridiculous. 

He pulled the end of the cloth through the knot, finishing off the work. “That should do it. Doesn’t look too bad if I do say so myself.”

Grant flexed his fingers, eyeing up the bandages. “Don’t flatter yourself too much,” he replied dully, working to suppress a smirk, “Thank you. I do appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Sherman dug into his breast pocket, pulling out two cigars. He offered one to Grant, who happily accepted. The smoked filtered through the air, the calming feeling slowly coming over him. There were few things that matched up to a good southern cigar. Those assholes were good for at least this one thing.

Grant blew out the smoke carefully, fiddling with the cigar. “There was something I wanted to discuss with you.”

Sherman perked up at that, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair, “What about?”

“Joe Johnston is still out by Jackson somewhere...we’ve gotten a few reports that he’s gathering up more soldiers,” he paused, tilting his head toward Sherman, “Halleck is sending the IX corps to help support the siege. I was planning on sending them to guard the Big Black River, so we have a force between ourselves and him. And I was thinking that you,” he tapped his fingers on the table for emphasis, “would take over that core and keep an eye on him.”

Silence hung in the room, the two men staring at each other. Sherman had to fight back the disappointment. He was being sent off again? “When are they expected?”

“Halleck said to expect them in the next week or so...depends on the rails, weather…” Grant trailed off, pulling the cigar from his mouth, “I know you would be able to handle them. They’re from the east, it’s a bit different out here. And I know you can keep Johnston busy if he does try anything.”

He knew he should take the compliments in stride. Grant was putting his faith in him, knew that Sherman could complete the task. But that didn’t stop the dread he felt. He wanted to be here when the city fell, not back at the Big Black River. He wanted to ride in at Grant’s side when they took Vicksburg, to prove those damn newspapers and critics wrong. Here he was, the supposed “insane” man riding in victorious, taking the Gibraltar of the Confederacy.  

It was selfish. But dammit couldn’t he be selfish?

Grant tossed the butt of his cigar onto the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot. “It wouldn’t be for another week. We’ll have time to go over plans of how to keep him back. Pemberton can’t stay cooped up in that city for much longer...we just have to outlast him.” 

Sherman nodded, working the cigar in his mouth. He would do it, but dammit he wouldn’t be happy about it. Not that he would let Grant know that. 

They sat in silence, the smoke from his cigar coming out faster. He chewed at the end, grinding his teeth to mask the disappointment. 

Rising from his chair, Grant carefully rolled down his blouse sleeve then coat sleeve to cover the splint. Sherman caught a little hint of red on the palm. Maybe he should have taken a closer look at those scratches. 

“Thank you for help with the splint, you didn’t need to,” Grant glanced up at him, shoving his good hand into his pocket, “I know that you can keep Johnston back. I wouldn’t have asked anyone else.”

“Of course,” he tossed his cigar to the side and rose up, hands resting on his hips, “The man didn’t put up much a fight when we took Jackson. I don’t expect we’ll see much more from whatever he’s trying to plan back there.”

“It’s best just to be alert.”

“Are you that worried about him?” Sherman asked, slightly surprised. 

Grant frowned, as if the question bothered him, “I just want to be prepared. We can’t have any surprises. Now when we’re right at their door.”

The scourge of reporters that filtered around camp popped in Sherman’s mind. Not only them but that little spy Charles Dana. They all knew what he was here for, though it was never said out loud. One false move from Grant could send Dana running to the telegram and sending God knows what back to Washington. 

Snakes, all of them really. He’d like to throw them and McClernard into the river. See how they dealt with that.

Grant took his hand from his pocket, gently rubbing his eyes, “Sieges just take time…,” he paused, catching himself mid-yawn. He ran his hand through his hair a few times, tugging on the ends. An odd tick that Sherman noticed when he tried to keep himself alert, “You have to account for everything.”

The drowsy expression that came over the younger man’s face almost made Sherman laugh. With his hair a bit messed up, Grant looked pretty cute. 

Stop. 

Not this again.

“Have you accounted for maybe taking a nap?” Sherman asked, pushing his thoughts to the farthest corners of his mind. 

“Now you do sound like Rawlins,” Grant muttered, the frown looking more like a pout. 

“I could start cursing, really bring that energy.”

“Funny,” Grant waved him off and walk to the other side of the tent, looking over some papers left on a different desk, “I have other things to do…being commander of an army doesn’t really allow for naps.”

There was that stubbornness again. It was almost like trying to argue with a wall. And Sherman had tried it a few times, much to his own dismay. 

But what the hell. Grant looked like he was five steps away from falling face-first into the ground. Better to force a nap on him than have all those reporters think he was drunk.

He would make heads roll the moment he saw them trying to scratch that ridiculous story in their dumb little journals. 

Sherman followed him across the room, Grant’s gaze down on a worn-out letter. There was a handful of papers like it down on the desk, strewn around in a somewhat disorganized manner. 

“Why don’t you have Rawlins or Wilson go through these while you try to take a nap?” Sherman asked, taking a few papers in his hand, “I’m sure they can take care of something this small.”

Blue eyes flickered up to him, eyebrows pinched together, “Rawlins and Wilson aren’t currently here. And I can take care of my personal mail.”

Personal mail…shit.

The letters found their way gently back to the desk, Sherman recalculating his strategy. “I’m sure Mrs. Grant would feel better knowing that you were getting enough sleep during the day.”

Now Grant looked annoyed, his focus squarely on Sherman, “Mrs. Grant knows that her husband is a very busy man and can only get so much sleep. And it’s perfectly fine with her.”

“Is it?”

His eye twitched and Sherman held up his hands, knowing when he was defeated, “Fine. Fine, sorry I asked.”

Grant brushed the letters over with his bad hand, stacking them in a somewhat neat pile. He sighed, his fingers tapping the desk lightly. His mouth was pulled down into a frown, his eyes passing between the letters and the canvas of the tent off to the side. 

Sherman hung back, watching him. He’d pushed his luck. Should have known better honestly. But Grant needed to hear it from someone other than Rawlins. Overbearing as the younger man was, he did always have the commanding general’s health in mind. 

“I’ll…find some time to sleep a little more today,” the young general muttered, “There are things I have to do first.”

Score one for being annoyingly persistent. Sherman kept his face schooled, nodding, “Of course.”

“I’m sure you have better things to do than hang around here.”

He knew when he overstayed his welcome. “Just let me know if that splint comes undone…I can make a house call.”

Grant scoffed, shaking his head, “I’m sure.”

Sherman gave a playful salute and turned, grabbing his hat from the other table. There a small pep in his step, though he tried not to show it. Sherman – 2, Rawlins – 0. He’d have to tease the young chief of staff about it later. 

“Sherman.”

He stopped mid-step, turning back to Grant. 

The other man stared at him for a moment, silent as he could usually be. There was a bit of softness in the normally stern blue eyes, a faint smile on his lips. “Thank you.”

Sherman stood up a bit straighter, a bit of pride swelling up in him. He played it cool, nodding to the general and placed the hat on his head. Before he could say anything ridiculous, which he was bound to do, he passed through the flaps of the tent into the sweltering Mississippi air.

He added another victory into his already growing pile. Rawlins wouldn’t know what hit him. 

[skzsauce01]

In Fair Verona︱Chapter 4

Synopsis: Jisung knows he is the Romeo to your Juliet. He could wax poetry about you all throughout rehearsal and even a little after. Except Hwang Hyunjin is the one playing Romeo in the school play, not him. Jisung is just another tech crew member that you don’t know, but he’s determined to win your heart... by any means necessary.

Warning: none... yet

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: fem!reader x Jisung; fem!reader x Hyunjin

updates every Wednesday and Sunday @ 11 PM PST︱chapter list

Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble—

And I will do it without fear or doubt,

To live an unstained wife to my sweet love.

Jisung feels exactly as Juliet does in Act IV; he, too, would suffer in order for his love for you to remain pure. Venomous snakes, giant bears, and even being buried alive sound fairly doable. Seeing you with Hyunjin is a different story, however. He’s not even in Act IV, but he insists on watching you from backstage. Yugyeom and Ryujin seem to have taken a liking to him, and Jisung wants to shout that Hwang Hyunjin isn’t all that great.

He has no evidence of that, but he just feels it in his heart.

In the spare minute you’re not performing or playing a “dead” body on stage, you’re waiting in the wings with Hyunjin by your side, praising you for your acting. You beam at his compliments and say, “It’s all because we practiced in class today.”

Hyunjin shares a class with you, drama most likely. Fantastic. Absolutely amazing. Jisung only sees you at rehearsal, but you’re both always preoccupied with other things, so he doesn’t even get to be with you that long. He feels a twinge of envy, and it grows when you seemingly allow Hyunjin to playfully tug at the sash around your waist.

He abruptly turns to Changbin and asks, “When do you think dinner’s going to be?”

"I don't know. After this act?"

"How many scenes are there?"

He flips through his binder. "Five. And we’re on the second one. Are you hungry already?”

“Just asking. Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Only a short distance away, Hyunjin gently turns you around and ties the loose sash back into a neat bow. He’s slow and methodical, and Jisung knows he’s doing so on purpose. Anger flares throughout his body, and he stares daggers at the back of Hyunjin’s head. You don’t look bothered though. You play with your fingers while quietly thanking him. Ryujin is nearby; she could have done it, Jisung bitterly thinks.

You nearly miss your cue because of Hyunjin’s antics and are forced to run on stage. Jisung feels a smug grin forming from his vindication, so he quickly tucks his nose into the collar of his shirt, pretending to be cold from the air conditioning.

“Hey, Jisung, right?”

“Yes,” he replies, slowly drawing out the ‘e.’ What does Hyunjin want with him?

He sits down on the coffin beside Jisung. “Well, Y/N said you were a big Shakespeare fan, and I was wondering if you could give me some advice on how to portray Romeo. Ms. Park’s advice isn’t really helping me, so I thought maybe yours would. Since, you know, you like Shakespeare’s plays.”

“S-sure.”

Should he give him good advice? Bad? It’s probably going to be all bad since he doesn’t really like Romeo, let alone Romeo and Juliet.

“Thanks. I don’t really know how to play Romeo. It’s really hard to be him when I know that he’s just a dumb, horny teenager.”

Jisung thinks that’s exactly what Hyunjin is, but he digresses. “Just pretend to be maddeningly in love with Juliet. That’s, like, the entire plot.”

He sighs. “I can’t say those things to Y/N. I physically can’t. Every time I do, I get red and embarrassed. When she looks at me, it’s even worse. You know how Romeo says Juliet is the sun? That’s exactly what Y/N is.”

A strangled noise leaves Jisung’s mouth. To his horror, he knows exactly what Hyunjin is describing.

“You get me, right? There’s just something about her.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you on stage. You’re worrying about the sleeping draught actually being poison, but even anguish looks pretty on you. His own anguish is the opposite. His head hurts, his heart is erratic, his foot repeatedly taps the floor. Hyunjin looks over at Jisung, waiting expectantly for an answer.

“Jisung?”

“I can’t help you,” he blurts out, not looking at him. “There’s— there’s nothing helpful I can tell you if you can’t say those lines.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he sighs. “Thanks anyway.”

Hyunjin finally leaves him alone, but Jisung can’t bring himself to watch you as closely. He always had an inkling of a feeling that Hyunjin was interested in you, but he could never tell if he was flirting or just being Hyunjin. Now that he knows the truth, Hyunjin looks different, and you kind of do too. You’re less bright, while Hyunjin’s turning into a muddy gray color.

The rest of Act IV goes swimmingly, with only some redos. Just like Changbin predicted, dinner break starts when the act ends. Jisung chooses to walk to the convenience store with Chan and Jeongin even though he brought food from home. He doesn’t want to face Hyunjin or you after what he just learned. Jeongin asks about why he isn’t working lights like usual, and he makes up some excuse about wanting to work on homework during rehearsal.

You’re the real reason why.

“But you don’t even do homework. Ryujin says you just space out and stare off in the distance,” he protests.

“Things didn’t go as planned,” he shrugs. “Does anyone like doing homework?”

At the convenience store, Jisung hesitates in front of the chip aisle, thinking back to when Hyunjin gave you a bag. It only takes a few seconds for him to decide before he snatches two off the rack.

Jisung finishes his dinner of rice balls on the walk back, but he doesn’t start on his chips. Is it strange that he wants to share chips with you, just like how you did with Hyunjin? The activity was so mundane, but Jisung feels like that part is missing from his relationship with you. All you and him talk about is theater, but he’s never going to be more than your theater buddy if theater is the only thing you two have in common.

After dinner, the final act begins, and Jisung is unusually worried about the kiss scene, despite knowing that you are too shy to kiss for now. He rotates between sitting down on the prop bench and getting up for water he isn’t thirsty for. Hyunjin, instead, skips over it, and Jisung can breathe again. When Juliet wakes up from the sleeping draught, you’re supposed to kiss him before stabbing yourself with the dagger. As he expected and hoped, you skip over that step as well. His breathing slows and returns to a more reasonable pace.

The act ends with the Capulet and Montague families making peace with each other and deciding to erect golden statues of their dead children to memorialize the tragedy. There’s a few cries of disbelief and astonishment in the comms at such a stupid conclusion, and Jisung is one of them. He hates this play so much. You’re the only tolerable thing about it.

Ms. Park makes you and Hyunjin go over the death scenes again and reminds you that she expects real kisses before opening night. You and Hyunjin turn similar shades of red, while Jisung goes pale at the thought. Like nothing happened, she requests all the actors come in the auditorium to practice the curtain call. All of the tech crew gets a round of applause and cheering from the actors after, and the comms are filled with tech’s own cheers.

Because it’s Friday, rehearsal ends an hour earlier than normal. Tech notes are shorter than usual, especially when Mr. Gi reveals that he wants to go home to watch his favorite show. Jisung receives some praise for improving throughout the week, but the floor crew overall still need to tidy up some of the blackouts. Once he moves on to lights, Jisung tunes them out and discreetly scrolls through your Instagram throughout the rest of notes. You look very pretty in white.

“Good job, guys, and have a good weekend.”

That’s their cue to go home. The actors are already lining down the auditorium aisles to hand their mics to Chan. Jisung spots you behind Capulet, discussing alternative death scenes with Hyunjin. You’re standing right in front of him, so you have to tilt your head far back in order to look at him while talking. Hyunjin mimes stabbing you, and you double over, clutching your stomach in pretend pain. He fakes horror and drinks from an invisible vial. It’s like the two of you are in your own bubble, and Jisung’s watching through a window.

He gets up and decides to wait in the classroom. As he walks back up onto the stage, he can hear you and Hyunjin dying from laughter. He hits the main curtain particularly hard while making his way backstage. He still wants to give you the bag of chips, but Hyunjin seems to be keeping you from him. The classroom is mostly empty, and people occasionally come in to get their belongings and leave. You finally come in, and you’re back in your normal clothes. He wonders how you’re not freezing in shorts, but that’s not important right now. Hyunjin is nowhere in sight.

“Hey,” he calls.

You brush your bangs to the side before looking in his direction. “Hey.”

“Any chance you’re hungry? I bought an extra bag by accident,” he says, holding up a bag of chips.

You laugh, and his heart rate increases. “A lot of our conversations seem to be about food. I’m getting food after, but thanks anyway.” When Jisung visibly deflates, you ask, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he lies. He stacks the bag on top of the other bag and rests his hand on top. “I don’t wanna give it to Jeongin. He’s probably going to ask once he sees I have two.”

“You could just eat both bags.”

“Maybe. I might also end up in the hospital for sodium poisoning though.”

You laugh again, and he turns pink with pride. However, the universe must be against him because Hyunjin appears in the door frame. You greet him with significantly more enthusiasm. Hyunjin collects his belongings, and his right hand twirls a car key. Jisung’s mouth starts forming a frown, and it deepens when Hyunjin says to you, “You ready?”

“Yeah.” You sling your backpack over your shoulder and pick up your textbook from the table. “See you Monday, Jisung.”

He says, “See you,” too late once again. With a huff of annoyance, he grabs his things and follows you two to the parking lot while staying a safe distance behind. Your textbook is now in Hyunjin’s hand, and you’re scrolling through something on your phone. He realizes with a start that you are reading off frozen yogurt flavors. When Hyunjin asks which flavor you’re going to get, you select strawberry cheesecake.

When Jisung is finally in his car, he turns up the volume on the radio and peels out of the parking lot, his hands gripping the steering wheel for dear life. In the passenger seat sits two bags of chips, unopened.

~ ad.gray

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Magic of Las Vegas

Day 9 of 2020′s 31 Days of Ficmas.  Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for the list!

Prompt: Snowflake

Rating: T for sexual situations; nothing explicit

Pairing: 11xRose AU

Summary: A snowstorm in the US Midwest delays eastbound flights just before Christmas, leaving rival children’s novelists stranded in Las Vegas for the night.  A single, shared drink leads to far more than the intended one-night stand.

2020 31 Days of Ficmas masterlist

AO3

---

Standing in the ladies restroom at McCarran International Airport, Rose blinked rapidly as she waited for the eyedrops to take effect.  She’d had a full day in Las Vegas, and not the kind that made for good telly.  The last stop on her book tour, she’d soon be on her way towards home and Christmas - provided her flight could stop getting delayed.  The tree was up, presents wrapped neatly beneath it, and if the loved one waiting anxiously by the door was her mother rather than a boyfriend… so be it.  If nothing else, Jackie made the eggnog strong.

Gathering her things she returned to the gate, hopes falling - it was even emptier than it had been five minutes before, and in fact, only one potential passenger remained, arguing with one of the attendants at the counter.  I must have missed an announcement.  Shit.  Hurrying up to the check-in desk herself, she gave the unoccupied woman her best, kindest smile.  “Hi, sorry, is there any update?”

“Cancelled.”  The woman, Madison according to her nametag, didn’t look up, typing away at her computer.  “The storm in the Midwest is just getting worse, so they’ve decided to try again tomorrow.”

She tried not to groan.  Fucking snow.  All she wanted was to sleep in her own bed.  “Ohkay…  Can I get a seat on that flight?  Or the next one to London, really.  I’m not picky.”

“Boarding pass.”

Rose handed it over, trying not to be irritated; the woman was just trying to do her job, and while her customer service could use some work, it was after one in the morning.  Everyone was exhausted.

“Oh!” Madison let out, scanning Rose’s boarding pass.  “I’m sorry Miss Tyler, let me find you the next available flight.”  Attitude doing a one-eighty, she gave Rose a smile.  “My niece is a huge fan of your books. I’m actually the one who introduced her to them.”

Rose merely gave a polite smile in reply; while such a sentiment usually warmed her heart, she’d heard some variation of it from nearly everyone she’d met over her fifteen-day book tour throughout the States.  Now, though, she just wanted to go home.  I should be halfway to New York by now.

“All set, same seat, leaves at 4:30 tomorrow afternoon with a layover in LA.”

“LA?”  Her brow furrowed, trying to picture a map of the country.  “Isn’t that the wrong direction?”

Madison nodded, already printing off the new boarding pass.  “Yeah, but it’s that with a one-hour layover or Miami, with an eight-hour layover and a plane change.  It’ll be fine, and actually does save you time.”

It only took another minute to finalize the transaction, and soon enough Rose was headed for the airport exit, lugging her carry-on with her and so, so glad she’d taken her mother’s advice to keep a set of clothes with her and not check it all.  She hadn’t liked the idea of keeping the small rolling suitcase with her when she checked in, wanting to be less bogged down, but now, she was glad to have resisted the urge.  Thanks, Mum.

Footsteps behind her caught her attention, and a moment later, the man who’d been talking to the agent next to her pulled astride.  “Terribly unlucky, aren’t we?” he lamented in a slightly posher version of her own accent. “Best case is home for Christmas Eve.”

“The storm should be over tomorrow, so it’ll be fine,” she replied politely, taking him in out of the corner of her eye.  Roughly her age, he nonetheless had the distinct look of a sixty-something maths professor, complete with tweed jacket and elbow patches.  But his eyes were kind, and he was attractive in that tall, lanky sort of way, with floppy brown hair and a bowtie.

“Hope so.  I promised my niece I’d be there.”  He seemed to deflate slightly, before rallying.  “Listen, this may be terribly forward of me, but- would you like to get a drink?  I realize it’s ‘Las Vegas’, but the idea of drinking alone at Christmas just seems… sad.”

They reached the escalator then, and Rose took the opportunity of the ride down to consider the idea.  And the likely outcome.  He was reasonably handsome, if in a dorky way, and certainly seemed kind enough.  She could use the release of an anonymous shag – if nothing else, it would probably make for a good story once home.

“Sure.  Why not?”

-

Beep. Beep.  Beep.

The bleating of the alarm startled Rose awake, her head feeling as though it had been split open, her mouth dry and fuzzy.  A lucky swat silenced the alarm, none too soon.  “Oh, fuck,” she moaned, sinking back into the mattress and squeezing her eyes shut against the brightness.  “Ow.”

A pitiful sound of agreement came from her right, reminding her of how she’d gotten into such a sorry state.  As she’d predicted, one drink had turned to two, then three, then…  Damn. I actually take the chance on a one-night stand, and don’t remember the actual sex?  Just my luck.

“Why is it making that noise,” her bedpartner mumbled, sheets rustling as he shuffled around; a moment later, the heavy weight of his head settled on the dip in her bare back.  “Wanna sleep.”

“Flight home.  Miss it, and won’t be home ‘til Christmas.”  She took another chance at opening her eyes, managing to keep them that way this time despite having to squint.  “Better get ready.”

He grunted in reply, instead pressing kisses to her lower back.  “I can think of much more enjoyable things we could be doing.”

Rose merely swatted him away, rolling out of bed and managing to land on her feet, if somewhat shaky.  I hope I remember his name soon.  This might get awkward.  “Lovely as that sounds, ‘m not missing Christmas for it.”  She stretched her arms overhead, pleased at the lingering ache in certain muscles as her body started to wake up.  She might not remember their escapades, but it appeared she’d more than enjoyed them.  “Shower.”

He didn’t try to join her, which she was equally happy and disappointed with; she needed some time to let the warm water bring her back to vaguely-human levels of processing ability, but a quickie sounded good too.

This sent her mind down a warm and steamy path, and by the time she’d toweled off and donned a dressing gown, she was very much interested in a morning shag, strolling out to the bedroom to tell John- his name had come to her in the shower, thankfully- about her change of opinion, only to find him standing naked at the desk, hands on his hips.

Taking a moment to let her eyes linger on his generous assets, she didn’t immediately recognize his tense posture. “Something wrong?”

He jumped, turning to face her, eyes going wide and one hand scrambling to cover his package.  “NO!”  His gaze darted down to the desktop, expression growing a bit more fearful. “Well…”

“What?”  Concerned now, Rose stepped up to his side, distracted at first by how good he smelled.  How’s that possible, after a night of sex and drinking and hours spent at the airport?  Then she looked down, and her heart stopped.  “Please tell me that marriage license doesn’t belong to us.”

“Uh…  I dunno about you, but, yeah… that’s me.”

Rose read it over again, unable to comprehend what her eyes were telling her.  Certificate of Marriage… 22nd of December… Rose Marion Tyler…  John Matthew Smith…  “I don’t believe it,” she said faintly, looking up at him. “This isn’t- I don’t do this sort of thing.”

“Neither do I!” John protested. “Erm, is that- are you- the Rose Tyler, of the Bad Wolf books?”

Hesitantly, she nodded.

“Ah.”  He shifted uncomfortably.  “I didn’t know.  It’s just- well- I’m…” He took a deep breath, anxiety clawing at Rose’s stomach as she waited.  “I’m J.M. Smith.  I write the ‘The Doctor’ series.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, fuck me.”  Rose closed her eyes, groaning.  Of all the people in the world, I hook up with my closest competitor.  They’d spent the last three years dueling on the bestseller’s lists, fighting for first in children’s fiction.  It was infuriating, and now here they were, post-coital, and married.  This cannot be real.  “How?”  Then, realizing what she said, her eyes snapped open.  “Don’t answer that.”

He nodded.  “What… do you want to do?”

“You’re on the same flight I am, right?”

Another nod.

“Let’s just… get ready and go back to the airport.  I can’t even begin to think about dealing with this yet.”

-

Upon arrival at the airport Rose was able to slip away from him, pulling a beanie on and parking herself at the next gate over; close enough to hear the announcements, but hopefully harder to spot.  When he rolled up to the gate several minutes after her, obviously looking around, she just sank lower in her chair; thankfully he seemed to overlook her, choosing a seat that put his back to her, and she relaxed marginally.

Pulling out her mobile she connected to the airport wifi, a quick search confirming that marriages in Las Vegas were legal, and worse, were recognized by the British government.  Shit.  An annulment appeared to be reasonably possible, thankfully not requiring Nevada residency.

Right.  So.  Once we get home, file for annulment, and if we’re lucky, no one ever needs to know. Including Mum.

-

Still stowing her carryon bag under the seat in front of her, Rose paid no attention to the person who plopped into the seat beside her, resettling herself before turning to look at who it was – and sighing heavily.

“I’m starting to think you’re stalking me.”

John arched a paper-thin eyebrow in response.  “I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me.”

“Oh, gee, what gave you that idea?” Huffing, she turned away from him, lifting the window shade to peer out the window.  There wasn’t much to see other than the plane at the next gate and blue skies, but she’d spend every second of the flight staring out if it meant avoiding her seatmate.  Husband.

Thankfully, he left her alone until take-off, but the reprieve was short-lived.  As she pulled out her laptop to keep working on the next draft of her story, John made a noise beside her.

“Don’t you think we should talk?”

“No.”  With more force than necessary, she pecked out her password one-handed, using the other to hide the keys.  “What’s to talk about?  We go home, we file for annulment, and with any luck, by New Year’s this will be a distant memory, and someday, perhaps even a funny story.  But today- today, this is nothing.”

Opening her manuscript, she glanced over to find him staring at her, and angled her body- and the screen- away from him. “Now you’re being creepy.”

“But aren’t you curious?”

“About what?”

“What happened?  And why?”

Rose looked at him blankly.  “We got drunk.  In Las Vegas.  And apparently have watched too many movies with that very premise.  End of story.”

“I don’t believe that,” John shook his head, fringe falling across his brow.  “What if there’s more?  What if it was fate bringing us together?”

“God, do you hear yourself? It was a terrible coincidence.  We’re competitors.  End of story.”  She glared at the screen.  “It was nothing, it meant nothing, and it will be nothing once we’re home and able to call a lawyer.  Now piss off, I have a deadline due.”  Shoving earbuds into her ears and cranking some music, she did what she could to drown him – and herself- out.

Focus on work. That’s all that matters right now.

-

The flight to LA was short, and given that she didn’t need to change planes, she didn’t have to move, though she was given the option to deplane.  Out of the corner of her eye she noticed John leave, which relaxed her somewhat; by the time passengers started boarding she’d put the earbuds away and was sitting back with her eyes closed.

A small voice chattering away caught her attention, particularly at the words “and that’s why I like the Bad Wolf books more!  Sorry.” Opening one eye to see, she found to her amusement the child, a girl around eleven, was talking to John, settling herself across the aisle from him as he reclaimed his seat.

Her eyes snapped shut, and she kept her breathing deep and even, curious as to his response.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Rose squinted, and was positioned in such a way she could see the girl nod.

“I like the Bad Wolf books too.”

“You do?”  For being a pre-teen, the girl had skepticism down pat, and Rose had to hold in giggles.

“Oh, very much so,” John said seriously. “There are lots of books out there like mine for boys- though I try to write so anyone would enjoy- but the Bad Wolf books are special.  I think it’s so cool to see a character like that – when I was your age, pretty much all the books of the genre were about boys.  But the Bad Wolf books… anyone can connect with Thorn, and see themselves in her- she’s so real.  She’s not perfect, and she doesn’t always get it right, but who does?  In Book 3- did you read Book 3?  Good, I don’t want to spoil it- but at the end… I had almost the same thing happen to me, only it was both of my parents, and Thorn reacted exactly as I did.  And above all – never apologize for liking something more than something else.  Your opinion is exactly that – so as long as you’re not trying to hurt someone, then don’t be ashamed of what you like. Okay?”

The girl nodded, staring at John in fascination.  “You really like the books then, huh?”

“I really do.”

“What’s your favorite part?”

John inhaled through his teeth. “Ooh, that’s a difficult one.  I think- the one scene I keep coming back to is when Thorn realizes she’s grown apart from her childhood friends.  It’s really sad, yeah?  But that’s life- nearly everyone experiences that at some point, everyone drifts away from people they loved.  I’ve never read of another series or character that makes that moment so visceral.  But what about you?  What’s your favorite part?”

Turning over so her back was to them, Rose half-listened to the conversation as her mind raced.  The scene he’d referenced was fairly small, and by its nature, would only be known by someone who had read the book.

Does John Smith read my books?

-

Once they were underway and the conversation between her seatmate and the girl had long since stopped, Rose started moving around as if just waking up, complete with yawning and stretching.

“Hi.”

“Oh!”  His yelp drew her gaze; he’d been reading, the book snapping shut and quickly tucked out of view, but not before she recognized her own artwork for her most recent release; in fact, the very book she’d been crossing the country to promote.  “Hello.”

“Hi,” she repeated, sitting up and looking at him curiously.  “Were you reading my book?”

His cheeks flushed, and after a moment, he returned the book to the tray table; based on the bookmark, he’d started it before they’d met, as he hadn’t done much (or any) reading since.  “Erm, yeah.”  He gave her a sheepish smile.  “You’re a fantastic writer.”

“Thank you.”  She’d had time to think, about what he’d said about her books, how willing he’d been to discuss them- and not his own- with the young girl who appeared to be flying solo.  It had softened her approach towards him- somewhat.  “I think there’s a chance we got off on the wrong foot.”

“I agree.”

When he just stared at her, she knew she’d have to make the first move.  I was kind of a bitch to him, wasn’t I?  “Hi, I’m Rose.”

“John.”

They shook hands, Rose’s skin tingling where they touched.

“So, tell me about yourself.”

He arched a skeptical eyebrow.  “I thought you didn’t care, that we’ll just pretend none of this happened.  Harder to do knowing things about the other.”

Rose bit her lip, eyes darting down to her lap.  “Like Thorn, my dad died, only when I was a baby.  Mum always said to hold on to precious moments.  And… I don’t trust easy, so clearly, something about you made me give you the benefit of the doubt.” Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze again.  “You’ve got until we land in London to convince me to- to extend that faith.  If you want to.  We’ll see from there.  What do you say?”

Green eyes searched hers, and she kept her expression soft, nervous despite her words.  They would both be interviewing the other for position of spouse, and suddenly, it was one she wanted to pass with flying colors.

“All right,” he agreed slowly. “Let’s see what happens.”

-

The next book in each series was a cross-over, where secret agent Thorn, codenamed Bad Wolf, is rescued by an unlikely hero, The Doctor, and his strange-looking timeship, and it is only through a combination of their unique skillsets they’re able to save the day. With cover-art by Rose Tyler and a foreword from John Smith, the book was an overachieving best-seller, outdoing the previous books in each series and earning an armful of awards.

The picture on the back featured the authors with their arms around each other, he in a suit, and she in a white dress.

Both bios, at the end of the book, ended with the same phrase.

And they lived happily ever after.

[thecsquirrel]

This Batwoman news might be the single stupidest thing a network/showrunner has done in a while.

Batwoman is Kate Kane.

This is not the Green Lanten corps or some future version of Batman. (And even in the future, Bruce Wayne is still Batman.)

I admit that RR wasn't my favorite choice because I was worried about her acting chops, but you know what she had the right look. I appreciated that they went with a visible and very out member of the LGBTQ community.

The show itself got stronger throughout the season and the rest of the cast is very strong and I'm invested in those stories. The idea that they are going to change Batwoman destroys those relationships.

I honestly don't understand why a recast is not the appropriate and best route. And let's be real if they cast a straight actress or de-gay Batwoman then the show needs to be cancelled. In truth, I'm not sure it survives without Kate Kane anyway.

Hollywood is a mess as it is, so they have time to get this right. But I have to say that the choice to not simply just do a recast would be a ridiculous mistake.

Just some thoughts.

***update*** 7.15.22

So, this popped up on my dash today some two years later and I just had to sit back and kind of giggle at myself. Wow, talk about a whole 180.

I've reached a place in my life where I feel like it's absolutely important to be able to acknowledge when you were dead wrong about something. And man, when I say I was pleasantly wrong I absolutely mean it.

The truth is, of course, there can be more than one Batwoman! Hell, I accept that there are 15 Batmans, 9 Robins, 7 Spider-people, and like 4 Thors, so why couldn't I accept more than one Batwoman!

In retrospect, I was hurt and in my feelings, and like a myopic fanboi I missed the big picture. When Elegy came out I was coming into my own as a young queer woman, out on her own, fully out, and screaming it to the rafters. KK was super important to me because of that at the time. When CW decided to do Batwoman I was extremely excited, and then they cast RR. Well, then I deflated like a basketball left in the basement corner for too long because I knew that woman couldn't act to save her life and welp...

I stuck with the show for the most part though because of the other characters: Sophie, Mary, Alice, and Luke. The idea of not having KK to keep those stories relevant bothered me and I couldn't see the possibilities.

And then the news came that not only would Ryan Wilder still be Queer, but she was going to be Black and I have no shame in saying that that changed the possibilities for me. To be able to get a Queer superhero and a Black woman and to be Batwoman!

I've written about how worried I was and how I was still unsure, but I really wanted it to work it out even if I didn't trust the CW (and yes, I was right not to trust them!).

Two years later, I'm trying to burn down CW because they took away my Batwoman, and guess what, I don't mean KK. I'm always going to love and appreciate KK because I had never had that before, but what Javicia and crew were able to do with Ryan Wilder and Batwoman reminded me of why we gravitate towards these stories anyway.

I'm still holding out hope that HBO will give this show and these characters the final season they deserve and I also hope Ryan gets to keep the cowl in the comics.

Tl/dr: I was super duper wrong about recasting KK, and having Ryan Wilder don the cowl turned out to be an amazing decision and she deserves to be called Batwoman just as much as KK. There is room for all of these voices. Glad I figured that out.

[jackrrabbit]

ask answering pt. 1: general asks

ok @grlflesh​​ you have to stop because this is lowkey the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said about my writing and omg. I’m so fucking soft I—

💖💘💝 THANK YOU!!!! 💝💘💖

idk what to say, ily ily ily, thank you and I hope you continue to enjoy my writing 💕💕 also if you have a playlist you listen to while reading my stuff, you should send it to me! I would love to give it a listen!!!!!!

general ask answering

not too personal at all! I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned my school on my main a few times so it’s out there. I live in NorCal and I go to a UC!!

three (super obvious) hints in case anyone wants to guess, in which case I might confirm or deny: my school is big on...

boba

riots

grade deflation

also anon you should message me as a fellow California dweller 👀 let’s commiserate about wildfires and housing prices <3

tell me why this pulled on my heartstrings a bit omg....sorry but I love you now

you, my tinder matches, and my long-distance friends should form a support group for people who never hear from me haha

hi there, I’m doing well! how are you? I hope you’re good :D

my favorite character to write is probably Dabi 🔥 he is a bastard and I love it. all the fucked up shit in his childhood and throughout his life makes him extremely fun to write, all his neuroticisms and pathologies and skewed patterns of development that inform who he is as a person (oops the psychology major jumped out). also he’s sexy in a bad way which I’m weak to

close runner up is probably Kamui from Gintama 🐇 which I know is kind of dirty bc I haven’t written anything for him on this blog (yet!!!) but I’ve written a ton of fanfic for him in the past. I like writing him for a lot of the same reasons I like writing Dabi actually...lots of similarities there. why are evil older siblings of main characters so sexy ugh

aww thank you!!! you should make one and tag me in it if you want anon 👀

also I RELATE TO THIS SO MUCH HOLY FUCK every time I read a fic about a character who’s like 5′9 and it’s like “he towered over you~~~~” I’m like,,,,, ok is he wearing stripper heels or stilts (to be fair I do this occasionally but pretty much only with characters who are over 6′).

honestly it is SUCH a struggle to have a size kink and be tall. but I feel like I can make up for it by being super physically weak lol if that makes sense??? like sure I’m the same height as Daichi from hq BUT an 11-year old girl could beat me arm-wrestling, so I could easily get tossed around and manhandled and that’s what’s important 😌 the size kink becomes a physical inferiority kink :P

thank you ahhhh i’m so in love with this ask (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) it’s my job to get you invested so I’m glad it’s working!!

regarding commissions: holy fuck I’m so flattered you would want to spend money on my writing??? I wish I could say yes but unfortunately my inspiration is really flaky and unreliable, and until I can be confident that I’m responsible enough to deliver what was paid for, I don’t think I’ll be doing commissions 😔 regardless, thanks for asking!! I might set up a ko-fi at some point but I’m not sure if that’s the right move or how it works really so who knows.

oh my god @study-milk​ I love you. wow.

rn I have a bunch of half-written fics that I’m trying to finish. currently I’m about 4k words into a Haikyuu fic with Kageyama x reader x Oikawa where [spoilers for my own writing] reader is dating Oikawa but she dated Kageyama in the past and Oikawa is like, ‘wouldn’t it be crazy if I let Tobio-chan fuck my girlfriend...haha jk.......unless?’

other WIPs I have that I haven’t mentioned before: a fluff/hurt-comfort piece about showering with Todoroki 🛁, some A/B/O smut about getting stuck in an elevator with alpha!Hawks while you’re an omega going into heat 🔥, and some poly relationship fluff with Iwaizumi and Oikawa 🌓. no promises tho!!

as always, I’m also working on my multi-part fics that are unfinished (Fanatic and it will come back). ahhhh I really hate going so long without updating, but it’s been difficult to get back into the flow of both of these and I feel like I’m putting too much pressure on myself about them so I’m going to try not to force it for now 😢

dw about it, I’m pretty sure no one’s asked before 😇

I put titles of full-length fics in bold (and include summaries/wordcount) on my masterlist, whereas I leave ficlets and headcanons in regular text. I don’t have a strict differentiation between full-length fics and ficlets, but I consider the cutoff around 1.5k words. hope this answers your question!

hmm I mostly focus on canon characters and reader insert? some of my writer bros have OCs that I love hearing about but I don’t have any of my own. they are definitely interesting tho, and if you’re considering making an OC, I would encourage you to do it!!!!! be creative buddy!!

ahh @nimandu​ my cute kouhai!!!!! I really love you so much 🥺👉👈 thank you for this wonderful message and for everything you write in the tags 💘 legit whenever I see that you reblogged one of my posts I’m like !!!! and I’m so excited to see what you think <33333 please have a good day as well

hi i just read this ask. I love you. the end.

jk don’t let this be the end, send me more asks like this pls, feed my praise kink omg 😂😂

[7wanderingpaws]

Simply, yours (2)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: non-idol AU, hapkido teacher AU

Word count: 3.1K

a/n: Maybe this chapter might be a bit frustrating, it was for me, but it will all get better very soon!! :) Enjoy and leave a comment please!

.2.

You came out of the office still shocked, your body moves a bit stiff. Sukyeong was giving you a wary look from behind of her glasses and watched you all the way till your butt touched the cushion of your office chair.

“You look like you have been sacked,” she commented, unable to keep it in.

Gulping, you realised your throat went dry. Reaching out for your tea cup, you picked it up to take a sip but noticed it was empty. Right. You have spilled its contents on your skirt that still had the wet stain.

What do you do now? Why aren't you feeling as good as you thought you would after receiving your first promotion?

Perhaps you needed some time. After all, the result would be shown on your bank account, not through your emotions or the behaviour of your boss.

“I-I got promoted,” you finally let out, staring at Sukyeong.

To say she was surprised was an understatement. Her eyes widened and she took her glasses off to get a better look. “Don't tell me it is because of Bina.”

“It is,” you mumbled. “Did you know she got fired?”

“Oh, yes, I heard but so suddenly? Nobody knows why.”

“Yeah,” you raised your eyebrows, nodding, before telling the truth “She got pregnant. That's why.”

Sukyeong's eyes darkened. “No way! No freaking way! You have got to be kidding me.” She went silent for a second, obviously the information still loading in her brain. “He fired her because she got pregnant? Is he stupid?”

“Apparently, the company doesn't want a useless workforce.” You went on explaining the whole meeting, ending it with his proposal (decision) to promote you to her position.

Sukyeong was a very kind and genuine person at heart that rarely showed negative emotions. It was quite shocking to see her explode (in a neat manner) about the whole situation.

Eventually, she looked at you, then at the phone resting on the top of your table. “It is good news for you, though. This way you can lead a more comfortable life with Baekhyun. You should let him know right now. He will be so happy and proud of you.”

You bit your lip. Sukyeong wasn't informed about the little condition called pregnancy that your boss made you indirectly promise. You felt it was too personal and uncomfortable to tell her. Or maybe you were scared she would tell you how stupid and out of your mind you were.

“I will tell him,” you heard yourself mumble, zoning out into your little bubble.

 You didn't tell him when you came home. It wasn't like you didn't have enough chances throughout the day. You and Baekhyun were constantly in touch through your phones, writing silly messages or small updates on what the other was doing.

You could have told him then.

Yet, as you were preparing your evening tea and heard him listing through his textbooks, there was not a chance to even start the conversation. He needed to be focused.

And anyway! How inconvenient would have the whole situation been? There was no way you could afford to… start a family. He knew it. You knew it. It would be a massive burden for both of you; physically for you, for him financially. He needed to finish his PhD. No time for children. He needed to focus on his career in hapkido. No time for children. He-

You hissed in pain as you, guess what, spilled your tea straight on your left hand. You weren't even holding the cup; you hit it with the back of your hand by accident, causing Baekhyun to look up from his textbook, his forehead slightly scrunched.

“You alright, love?” he stood up from the small table, walking to you.

“Mhm.” You took two quick steps reaching for the tap, letting cold water relief the throbbing skin.

Baekhyun was next to you within a second. He grabbed your hand, quickly looking at it. “Shit, Y/N, that's really bad,” he murmured seriously while observing the skin.

“It's nothing, c'mon,” you answered, playing it cool by giving him an eye roll with a smile.

“That could easily be a bad burn,” he placed your hand back under the water and looked at you. “Be careful next time.”

Forcing a bigger smile, you nodded but-

“Is something wrong?” He caressed your back gently. “You are not one to be clumsy usually.”

“All is good,” you nodded cheerfully, maybe a tad too fast.

He was analysing you. He knew you like the back of his hand. “Did the idiot try something at work again?” he asked, his voice lower now.

“What? Oh, no, not at all, please!”

“Why are you laughing like I just guessed correctly?”

“Because you haven't guessed correctly, hihi.”

“So there is something to be guessed,” his eyes shone in challenge.

“No, Baekhyun, there isn't. However, you will need to guess correctly at your exams, so go back to studying. I'll prepare some fruit for you.”

“Not with that hand,” he argued, closed the tap and grabbed a towel to dry your hand. “You will sit next to me and give me strength while I'm studying.”

You snorted. “I am pretty sure that will be a productive study session.”

He raised his eyebrows at you with a wide smile.

 You did end up studying. Baekhyun was preparing a report to be handed in next week about his current workplace where he was teaching hapkido. The wonderful way his experiences, memories and plans were coming out of his mouth while you were trying to type it all out on his laptop was something that made your heart warm. Baekhyun was satisfied where he was in life. You don't need anything more.

“Now the elementary school one,” he said, deep in thought as he was going through his notes. “The kids are sometimes a pain in the ass. Therefore, a hapkido professor-to-be shall have high levels of patience while kindness and eternal love shows through his guidance in order to reach the utmost peace while practicing hapkido.”

You were typing quickly until you realised what he was dictating in the academic language. It made you look up at his shiny eyes. “Ya, what is this. Your sarcasm will not go unnoticed with-”

He bursted out into fit of loud laughters, giggling on your expression. “I was wondering if you are even listening to what I am saying.”

“Of course I was,” you smacked his arm. “Kids. Talking about kids.”

He came closer to your face on all fours like a puppy he was. “I want to have some as well.”

You gave out a snort though your heart jumped in anticipation before your entire positive mood deflated with the situation you suddenly appeared in at work. “Some? It's not like asking for apples, you know, my love?” you responded gently, quickly glancing at his stretched out lips. You glanced back at his eyes just to catch him also stare at your mouth.

“You haven't thought about it at all?”

Oh no...

“How did you get to this topic? We were talking about kids in your hapkido class,” you tried to avoid the inevitable.

He shrugged, biting his lover lip as he examined your eyes now. You could feel his breath on your lips. “Exactly. You know how much I adore to teach that class. University students are fun and I can seriously practice hapkido with them, lead them to something much better, but with kids… Maybe I'm just crazy,” he laughed quietly, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours, gently shaking his head, “but I can't stop imagining us having a baby.”

Unconsciously, your breathing grew frantic, the idea being way too pleasant.

“And yeah, it isn't easy but… I love you so very much,” he breathed, raising his head, his eyes still closed as he crashed his lips onto yours in a slow, lazy kiss as if he was too drunk on love to even think straight. Your heart responded right away, opening your mouth for him so that he could devour all of you right then and there.

Countryside people had one thing in common - their own kids came usually early on in their lives. It wasn't out of place for Baekhyun to want to start a family at such a young age. It might have been strange for city people who were too busy building up their own life, though.

“Baekhyun,” you murmured, and he pecked you twice to show that he was listening as he opened his eyes to look at you. You didn't know yourself why you said his name when obviously you had nothing to reply. Now it was confirmed that if you told him what happened today would break his heart. Just like it broke yours. But you were not well-off now. Not entirely poor but… not far from it either. There had to be sacrifices made in order to get a better life for yourselves first. Touching his cheek lovingly, you whispered: “Your report.”

 You couldn't sleep the whole night. Not only because you were nervous about your upcoming day in work, given the new workplace would require much more responsibility (and we weren't even talking about the person you had to skip around now), but also the slight pain in your thighs signalling the upcoming period was making you uncomfortable. It was still early to get out of bed but you were worried you would forget to pack some pads in case it would surprisingly arrive at work. Oh! And you kept replaying Baekhyun's words from yesterday. How you saw the softness and desire in his stare. The honesty.

Guilt was eating you away.

Later during breakfast, Baekhyun was unusually silent and even though you tried to make some conversation with him, he wasn't in the mood. Must be the report, you thought as you quickly washed the dishes while he was quietly drying them off with the kitchen towel.

“You should go get ready, it's already 15,” he said, not looking your way.

You placed the last dish in the dish holder. “It's okay, I can leave at 45.”

Shit, how would you explain him the whole situation? He already did not like your boss (as if you did) yet here you were, hiding the truth that he will pick you up and bring you home.

“How come?” he asked, taking the dish, carefully sliding his hand with the towel under it over the surface, the action making a muffled sound. “You always panic about being late.”

“Well today I decided I can be late,” you said, smiling at him.

The corners of his lips lifted, but the emotion didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Are you okay?” you asked him, as you dried your hands in your pyjama pants. You had to wash them later anyway.

He nodded, winking at you which gave you enough reassuring for now.

“I will prepare your lunch box, go get ready, love.” You squeezed his arm.

He finished his task before wordlessly leaving.

Standing silently in the kitchen for a few more minutes after he left made you feel how strong of a slap you just received from him. You hated when he shut you out, when he was deep in his brain mulling over things you had no idea about.

You had no idea he was thinking so much about starting a family with you. You had no idea the kids in school were reminding him of how much he desired to create something so precious together with you.

Shuffling from the tiny bedroom snapped you back to reality, and you quickly put together Baekhyun's lunch so that he could leave.

“Anything you want to tell me?” he suddenly approached from behind, his voice serious.

You turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

“You… you are acting strangely,” he explained, not moving from his spot.

“Baekhyun,” you said, taking the kimbap from the fridge and placing it into the blue lunch box that you wrote “for my only love” on in a cute handwriting. “All is fine. What is making you so upset?” 

Your brain kept beeping the entire time, screaming “warning” but you went on. Like an idiot you were. You knew he was a sensitive person, so he was taking the slightest off-behaviour in the wrong way. He could be very vulnerable despite his tough physique and self-confident talk.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “You know what? Let's talk once you're home tonight.” Taking the lunch box from your hands, he left. 

The ending was a silent closing of the entrance door and the beep of the lock.

 It was uncomfortable in the car to say the least. Sitting in the same car, on the same backseat with your boss... Well, concentrating on the work you had to start doing was hard.

He kept asking how your day went yesterday, if you felt good about the promotion, and what would you do to make the work and your goals more effective. Interestingly, being under pressure made you form sentences that had the exact meaning to those in his brain. Whatever he wanted to hear and you knew would please him, you would say it.

Back at work it wasn't much different, but it sure was a much longer day with sudden new tasks and meetings to attend to. What made it very frustrating was that your boyfriend didn't write a message even once. He would always write asking whether you arrived to work safely since you had to take transportation, but not today. Your phone was lying there, no beep, no ring. 

“Did it ring?” you asked Sukyeong breathlessly as you rushed to your table after another meeting. You were about to go to another one.

“Nope, sorry,” replied Sukyeong regretfully, sending you a pout before she focused on her computer screen again. “What happened anyway?”

You groaned in reply, the office phone ringing. You knew who was on the other line so you picked up while unlocking your own phone. “Yes, sir, I am bringing the documents for signing now.”

“Alright.” The boss hung up.

“Pff, alright,” you mocked, while frustratingly huffing when the kakaotalk had no unread messages. Especially from Baekhyun.

Unfortunately, you had no time and had to leave a fast message: 

“Honey is all good on your side?”

By the time you finished that day at work, there was still no reply. He didn't even read the damn message.

 You came back home much later than usual, very tired and mentally drained. You were hoping Baekhyun wouldn't be asleep.

Silently making your way past the kitchen that was right at the entrance door, you saw dimmed light coming out of your shared bedroom. Right after a book page being turned. Ah, he was studying. Once you appeared in front of the bedroom, he raised his head, tired eyes focusing on you.

“Hey,” you said quietly, unsure what to expect from him.

He bit the inside of his cheek. “Hi.”

Putting down your bags, you took off your blazer before walking to him to give him a peck. But he seemed pissed. “Where were you till now?”

His tone made you stop in your tracks. “I had to work late. I sent you a message which you didn't bother open either obviously,” you snapped, not liking his attitude.

“You suddenly work this late? It's eleven in the night, Y/N,” he snapped back.

Emotions were flowing too fast in your veins, making you momentarily dizzy. “I am also trying to make a living here, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” he questioned, as if you were lying. “Making a living, is it?”

His behaviour didn't add up in your brain. “What the hell is your problem, Baekhyun? Just come at me, spill it all out. I'm not in the mood to be guessing what pisses you off so much since yesterday,” you said coldly, still standing few feet away from him.

He suddenly stood up, taking two steps towards you. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out as he focused his gaze on your eyes.

“What is it?” you demanded when he still didn't say anything.

“Did you have dinner?”

“What?” you exclaimed, disbelief written all over your face. You grabbed his face with your hands and made him focus his gaze on you. “What is the matter Baekhyun? What did I do so wrong? Don't do this to me, please.”

“I just,” he started, closing his eyes and going silent. Four heartbeats passed when he whispered. “I don't want to talk about this right now.”

Your hands fell to your sides and you felt a burn behind your eyes. Staring at him a little longer, you finally turned around, stripping to take a shower. You threw your clothes on the floor, noticing the period pads you forgot this morning despite how much you were reminding yourself to take them. Because of the morning argument and busy hours at work, you forgot your period was not coming. Still. Maybe tomorrow, you thought.

Half-way to the bathroom in your bra you turned. “For your record, I did not have dinner. Was too busy,” you muttered the last sentence and you slammed the bathroom door shut. 

Fuming from these short-lived conversations full of suppressed anger made you very, very upset. But thankfully, a hot shower was something that could ease your mind. Although you couldn't stay under the hot waterfall for too long, you made sure to put on ton of scented shower cream and made sure you enjoyed every molecule of the shower.

Once finished, you turned to grab a towel just to find a pair of hands holding an open towel for you to be tucked in. You locked eyes with Baekhyun, not sure what to say or do.

“C'mon, you will catch a cold,” he ushered, shaking the towel slightly.

You stepped closer, not meeting his eyes, somehow feeling shy being all naked in front of him. He has seen you like that countless of times, but it still had a strong intimacy impact for you.

He wrapped the towel around you, massaging your shoulders. “I'm sorry,” he whispered in your ear from behind.

Tears that threatened to spill before now rolled down your flushed cheeks. You turned around, hugging him. “I can't take us fighting.”

“Me neither,” he said, squeezing your aching body.

You let out a quiet sob. “Don't shut me out.”

It took him a few heartbeats to reply.  “I won't. But you better not do it either.”

This made you weep just a bit harder because you already have.

[badchoicesposts]

Loyalty Or Royalty

Chapter 17

Summary: Mia Bhatt spent years trying to escape her past, trying to escape the feeling of betrayal that was left in her heart after the fire, and she finally had. She was marrying the King of Cordonia and was finally going to get her happily ever after. But, after a momentary lapse in judgement caused her to send a wedding invitation to someone she was sure had forgotten about her, she realizes that sometimes the past has a way of crawling back to you.

Author’s Note: In this fic Anton and The Sons of Earth were caught before the wedding. Also this story will contain flashbacks that will be in italics.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Mia Bhatt), Platonic!Colt x MC, Past!Logan x MC

Word Count: 1,801

Taglist: @flowerpowell​, @dcbbw​ , @texaskitten30​, @kingliam2019​ @hopefulmoonobject​​ @lovehugsandcandy​ @los-cafeteros​ @desireepow-1986​​ @lovemychoices​​, @kimmiedoo5​

Catch Up: Masterlist

Mia anxiously paced the length of the floor in front of Liam’s desk. They had arrived back in Cordonia a few days ago and had been confined to the palace because the press were swarming around them wherever they went, determined to be the first to get a statement from the King and Queen. They needed to make a statement. They needed to break their silence and explain things, but where were they even supposed to start with all of this?

“I feel powerless and exposed,” Mia confessed, as she dropped down onto the sofa at the side of the office. 

Liam stood up and walked over to her, lifting her feet up into his lap and slipping her shoes. He began to massage them as she huffed in frustration. 

“Do you have any suggestions?” she asked, leaning back onto the sofa.

“We need to make a statement,” Liam said.

“I know that! What do we say?” she asked. “Do we tell them the truth or do we embellish the truth to save face?”

Liam let out a soft sight and dug his thumbs into her heels, causing her to groan softly. He shot her an amused smile and repeated the action.

“I think that’s something you need to decide. It’s your past, and I don’t want to force you into anything you’re uncomfortable with,” Liam said, offering her a comforting smile.

“But, it’s your country, and you know more about leading it than I do,” she argued.

“Love, that’s not true. This is our country. I asked you to marry me because I love you more than anything in this world. I may have made some mistakes throughout our relationship,” he began to say before she cut him off.

“We both made mistakes,” she said, pulling her feet away and sitting up.

Liam offered her a sad smile and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. 

“I asked you to marry me because I loved you with everything in me, but also because I knew you would make an amazing Queen, and you have. I was born into this life and had politics and protocols drilled into me from the very beginning of my days. However, you came to Cordonia and adapted to everything in a few months. Not only that, but you managed to unite the kingdom throughout a time of great hardship and instil courage and faith in our people. Mia, you’re a natural born queen. I say that honestly. I think you know what we should do. Follow your instincts.”

~~~

Mia nervously smoothed down her skirt for the hundredth time as she prepared to step out onto the stage where the press were waiting for her. Liam was by her side, resting a hand comfortingly on her lower back 

“You’ll do great, love,” he said, pulling her into a gentle kiss. 

Mia took one last deep breath before making her way out onto the stage. The press all began throwing questions in her direction and camera flashes blinded her vision, but she kept her head up and tried her best to remain stoic. Once behind the podium, Liam standing dutifully behind her with Bastien and Mara, she held her hand up to silence them. 

“Good afternoon. I want to start off by thanking you all for being here. I know that everyone has questions. A few days ago some information about my past was made public. I stand here before you today because it’s time that I tell you all the truth. I was born in Los Angeles, California to Nik and Diya Bhatt. Or at least I thought I was. A few months ago I discovered that my father was actually Teppei Kaneko, leader of The Mercy Park Crew, a group of car thieves operating in Los Angeles. The man I believed to be my father worked for Kaneko until his death several years ago. I grew up in Kaneko’s garage, and although I didn’t know he was my father at the time, he always treated me as such. He took care of me. He protected me, and he loved me. In turn, I turned a blind eye to his illegal activities. I was underaged, and even though I knew that The Mercy Park Crew’s actions were illegal, I conveniently ignored it because they were my family and they had been all my life.”

“Seven years ago The Mercy Park Crew had some difficulties with a rival gang and as a result I believed Kaneko to be dead. I moved on with my life. I came to Cordonia and fell in love with not only the country and its people, but also it’s crown prince. I kept my past hidden because it was a part of myself I was ashamed of. I understand that it was selfish of me, so I’m standing here in front of you now apologizing to all of you and to my husband of King Liam as well,” Mia said, turning to offer Liam a soft smile. 

He returned it, and she turned around once again to face the crowd. She took a deep breath before continuing. This is the part of her speech that would be the hardest to deliver. 

“A few months ago I found out that Kaneko wasn’t truly dead. I also found out that he was actually my birth father. This information came as a shock to me, but what was worse was finding out that he had aided the monsters that tried to tear Cordonia apart. What I say next is entirely up to you to believe. I can not force you to think one way or another. All I can do is tell you what I know to be true. Kaneko… my father claims that he set the fire at Applewood Orchard so Anton Severus would trust him. He then used his position as one of Anton’s trusted allies to tip our security off to their plans which ultimately led to us capturing The Sons of Earth. I know that this doesn’t excuse his actions. I know that this can’t reverse all of the harm he has done. I know this doesn’t help all of the people he has hurt. I understand my privilege. I understand that I will never be able to experience the loss of Applewood the way it’s workers have, the way the people who have depended on it have. All I can do is apologize from the bottom of my heart to all of the people who have been affected and assure you that I will do everything in my power to help make things right again. King Liam and I are both working towards finding a solution and a way to send aid to the affected parties. That being said, I would like everyone to remember that I am not my father. His actions are not my own. I know that it may take some time to rebuild your faith and trust in me, but I will do my best to do so. First and foremost, Cordonia is my priority. It is one of my greatest loves and I will do my best to be the leader it deserves. Thank you,” Mia finished.

She offered them a stoic smile and walked off the stage, Liam following next to her. They didn’t stop walking until they were back in her office where she visibly deflated.

“Did I just make a huge mistake?” she asked, dropping down onto her chair. Liam and Bastien sat down across from her, both continuously checking for updates on their phones.

“I think it’s too soon to tell for sure,” Bastien said. “If nothing else, I think the people will appreciate your honesty.”

Liam got up from his seat and walked up behind her, beginning to massage her shoulders in a comforting manner.

“I think I have something that may help improve your mood,” he said, causing her to turn and look at him curiously.

“What?”

Liam held his hand out to her, and she took it, standing up and following him through the palace halls. He led her out into a courtyard and took out his phone, sending someone a quick test. A few moments later Mia caught sight of a sleek silver car. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked up to Liam as if asking for confirmation. Colt stepped out from behind the driver’s seat and threw her the keys. 

“How… where… when did you get this?” she asked, walking up to the car and slowly reaching out to touch it as if she expected it to disappear the minute she laid her hand on it.

“While we were in L.A. I reached out to Annya to see if she had any records of the sale, then I tracked down the person you sold it to. He didn’t still have the vehicle, but he managed to help me get in contact with the person who did currently own it,” Liam said.

It was her first car. Toby had spent so much time customizing it specifically for her, and Mia had loved it with everything in her. There were so many good memories attached to that car, and of course a few bad ones. Immediately after the fire she even lived out of it for a few days. It was before she had decided to reach out to Annya and move to New York. She was grateful that it was only for a few days and not longer, and often forgot about that it even happened herself, but that entire time was a blur in her mind. 

When she had first sold it she had cried like a baby. That car was the last remaining connection she had to her old life. However, in the end she needed the money for school, and she had managed to make a decent amount on it. She thought she would never see it again. But, all thanks to Liam it was right here in front of her. 

“Thank you,” she said, walking over to him and throwing her arms around him. “Thank you so much, Li. I love it!” 

She pulled him into a soft kiss, smiling against his lips.

“I love you,” she mumbled.

“I love you too,” he said back, pressing one last kiss to her forehead before leading her over to the car. “Let’s go for a drive.”

Mia slid behind the wheel and started the car excitedly as Liam climbed into the passenger seat. She rolled down the windows and took off down the road, relishing in the feeling of familiarity. As the wind blew through her hair she felt freer than she had in a long time. She felt happier than she had in a long time. 

[ghostlywritten]

undefined

Too Nice To Say Goodbye Pt. 2

A/N: Look, a bias wrecker.

For those, who are waiting on an update for ‘Uncertainty’: I’m having a tough time coming up with an interesting plot, because the third season royally sucked in my opinion. I’m gonna try, but it will take a while.

Words: 3,5k+

Part 1 

It took you a huge amount of self control to keep the tears at bay throughout the night. Haechan was fidgeting nervously every now and then next to you, his eyes constantly flickering over as if he was afraid you would blow up at any minute.

You almost rolled your eyes. You were not going to cry in front of anyone. You had never even cried in front of Mark despite all the time you’d shared together so far.

‘Speaking of’, you let your eyes wander to your ‘boyfriend’ or whatever he was right now, who was completely immersed in the show, his arm loosely hanging over Yeri’s back of the seat. 

‘They would look good together,’ you realised, noticing the admiring look Yeri would occasionally throw at him. You had known about her feelings right from the beginning. Not that she was mean to you or anything, she was just as nice as Mark. It was the quiet but passionate way she always looked at him when she thought no one was watching. 

You felt uncomfortably out of place. As if you were the villain standing in the way of their love. The best friends separated by a third person, because they hadn’t yet acknowledged or admitted their feelings to each other. It was so cliche, it was sickening you.

For the rest of the night you kept to yourself, nursing the one drink you had as you watched the others chat animatedly over mindless discussions. You wondered briefly if they had known all along what you had just concluded for yourself and felt your cheeks warm in embarrassment.

‘I can never show my face here again,’ you thought to yourself as you bid them goodnight after a few hours, the cold air refreshing as you stepped out with Mark in tow. You breathed in deeply, finding it easier now to keep your emotions in check since you got out of that stuffy room (and away from the lovesick eyes of Yeri).

“That was cool, right? Just us chilling, all relaxed and stuff,” Mark commented, sighing blissfully as he fell into step beside you. You had decided to walk the short way to Johnny’s flat earlier but you started to regret it now as it seemed to be a much longer route than you had in mind, not to mention the wind being freezing cold. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your sweater. Usually you would hold on Mark’s hands as they were always mysteriously warm but it was too awkward now. 

Everything was uncomfortably awkward with him now. 

Two weeks passed and you were retreating more and more into your shell, shying away from any sort of contact with the NCT gang. You couldn’t help the humiliation you felt, knowing how you were the unwelcome third wheel standing in the way of the best-friends-to-lovers relationship. They were probably all waiting for you to just be left behind and for the actual love to start blossoming between Mark and Yeri. 

But although it was quite easy for you to stay away from them and have all these bitter thoughts you just didn’t have it in you to break up with Mark. Your love for him was achingly real and it hadn’t wavered a single bit, despite the situation.

You still smiled when he did, you still laughed when he did, you still gave him a kiss on the cheek whenever you woke up first and you still longed for his touch, even if it was just a simple intertwining of your hands at night whilst he was fast asleep.

You never went as far as that anymore. Never initiated anything when he was fully conscious, not wanting to make him feel awkward. You had to cringe whenever you thought back on all the skinship you had done and how discomforting it must have been for him. 

‘When has he stopped finding comfort with me?’ you wondered sadly, trying to distract yourself with some studying. Keyword, “trying”. All you did was stare blankly at the screen of your laptop, rereading a line without taking in its contents as your eyes grew more and more tired with each passing second. 

A door opened and fell shut, shaking you awake from your mindless state. “I’m home,” Mark announced and you heard him stop his shuffling as if he was expecting an answer. 

You opened your mouth to shout back the usual “Welcome back, love” but the words died on the tip of your tongue and you just pressed your lips together, swallowing tightly. 

“Y/N, are you home?” Mark called out, walking further inside.

“I’m here,” you said quietly just as he passed by the kitchen, causing him to jerk in surprise. 

“Oh my Jesus, you scared me,” he breathed out, laughing as he held his hand to his heart. Your own thudded out of rhythm upon seeing his dimples. 

“Sorry,” you said with a wry smile before you looked back at your screen, pretending to read whatever you had put up. You actually didn’t have to study anymore since graduation came up in a month but it wasn’t like Mark knew about that.

“What are you up to?” he asked, ruffling his black hair as he took out a water bottle from the fridge, handing you one as well. 

“Just some post-studying,” you replied vaguely but he smiled anyways, patting your shoulder, “Yo, keep it up. You are going to slay,” he encouraged and you chuckled at his choice of wording. 

He had always been a promoter for hard work, cheering you on to keep going when you were close to giving up. You admired and simultaneously felt grateful for that trait as it helped you through the toughest exam periods. 

“Thank you, Mark,” you said softly, glancing at him lovingly but quickly averting your eyes, wondering if that had already been too much. Your shoulders slumped slightly. Were you really supposed to tiptoe around your boyfriend like that, thinking over which move was the least loving in order not to make him uncomfortable? 

No, you were not. And yet, you couldn’t let him go. Even if it wasn’t fair for the both of you. 

You failed to notice his face fall slightly. “Hey, is everything alright?” he asked, placing a hand on your shoulder. You flinched slightly in surprise, causing him to raise his eyebrows. Was that probably the first touch he had initiated in a long time? 

“..Um, yeah I’m good,” you said, quickly changing the subject, “And you? How was your day?”

“Oh, it was great. Donghyuck did such a funny move today at practice...,” Mark started off, sitting down on the seat next to you as he rambled about his day as usual. You smiled slightly at his excitement, closing your laptop and resting your head on your hand as you turned to listen to him, using times like these to stare unabashedly at him and engrave his every feature in your mind for the future. 

“...and yeah, it was just dope. You should have seen it, Y/N,” he ended, wiping his eye after another laughing fit he had.

“I wish I had,” you commented lightly, not really meaning it. You were perfectly fine with not seeing them again as bad as it sounded. 

Mark’s smile faded slightly and he cleared his throat, “Actually, the guys have been wondering where you are. They haven’t seen you in a while...,” he trailed off and your heart skipped a beat. They asked about you? Why? Or was he just using it as an excuse because he was wondering himself? “I never noticed before but you have not been around for movie nights and practices in weeks...” Your heart deflated into a pout at his words and you broke the eye contact, looking down at the counter instead. 

“Yeah, I’ve just been busy with...studying and stuff.”

“But...aren’t you graduating in a month?” he asked with furrowed eyebrows. 

“You...know about that?”

“Yeah, Donghyuckie told me.” It just seemed that he was going to keep lifting and dropping your heart tonight. How did Donghyuck remember anyways? You had only briefly mentioned it to the whole group. 

“Yeah, but I might be called into an oral exam if they can’t decide on my grade,” you lied lamely, sighing inwardly when he nodded in acceptance.

The frown didn’t leave his face though and he scratched the back of his head. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to finish college soon anyways?” 

You shrugged, “It’s not a big deal.” 

“Not a big- Y/N, you are graduating!” he exclaimed, “How is that not a big deal?!” You stayed quiet. “Were you just going to accept your scroll without me cheering you on from the crowd?” A smile crept up on your lips, your heart warming at his sweet gesture. Mark was just the nicest guy you had and would ever meet. You could tell he still cared for you even if he didn’t love you anymore. And maybe that was why you held onto him. 

Your ‘boyfriend’ grinned back and you couldn’t resist reaching out to him. He stood up, letting you wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his chest. “Just tell me the date and time and I’ll be there,” he muttered into your hair and you nodded wordlessly, listening to the steady beat of his heart. 

A month passed and you felt like time had almost reverted back to when you both were deeply in love with each other. Mark had seemed to realise how you were drifting away and even though he didn’t understand why, he never forced you to tell him. Instead he was determined to coax you out of your shell, asking you to go out with him to a new restaurant, playing video games until late at night and refusing to let go of you in the morning. 

You tried to guard your heart but couldn’t help but enjoy his attention again and soon you were falling back into his arms, giving in to the urge to clutch onto him like a koala. Especially at the point where you started kissing again. It was the fifth consecutive night you had spent playing Mario Kart together and you were as usual failing to beat him in any round, causing him to whoop after every win. 

“Ahh, I guess it should get boring to win against you all the time,” Mark teased as he wrapped his arms around  you when you eventually refused to play another round, “...but nah! It’s always fun!” he cackled at your sour expression and you had a hard time fighting the smile from your face. 

“Yeah, yeah I got it. You’re the best,” you uttered, playfully rolling your eyes and he squeezed you closer, suddenly causing his face to be inches from yours. Your expression turned somber as you traced all his features with your eyes, poking his dimple. It deepened when he smiled wider, his own dark brown eyes flickering between yours and - your heart fluttered - your lips. 

You stilled when he drew closer, his breath hitting your face, watching his eyes flutter close as he brushed his lips against yours before fully placing them on. You stopped breathing, your eyes closing on their own, relishing in the familiar yet foreign feeling of his mouth on yours, his hand on your jaw, his fingers tracing your skin and you couldn’t stop yourself from drawing him closer by his shirt, deepening the first kiss you had shared in a long time. He let out a low groan, his chest vibrating against your fingers and to your delight you could feel his heart race as you ran your tongue over his lip a-

A phone ringing interrupted your sudden makeout session. You broke your kiss, breathing heavily as you looked up into Mark’s eyes. He looked dazed with his cheeks flushed and hair messed up and you had never found him more beautiful than now. “I think it’s yours,” you huffed and it took him a second to focus before nodded absently, grumbling under his breath. He took his phone out of his pocket, squinting at the screen light. 

“It’s Donghyuck inviting us over to Johnny’s flat,” he said chuckling, “He’s mad that we’ve been neglecting the movie nights.” You smiled, slowly regaining a normal breathing pattern as you straightened yourself up. “Shall we go tonight? They haven’t started, yet.” Freezing, you thought back on Donghyuck’s comments about your relationship and how the embarrassment you felt the last time you were there. 

“Uhh, I’m not really in the mood for a movie,” you excused yourself quickly, faking a yawn, “I’m pretty tired actually. But you go ahead and have fun!” Mark frowned slightly, glancing down at his phone before putting it away, “No, it’s okay. I will go to bed with you.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise but decided not to comment on it. He trotted after you towards your bedroom and you wondered whether you would continue where you had stopped when you got interrupted, your cheeks flushing slightly. No one could blame you, it had been a while since he had kissed you. 

“You know, you haven’t been hanging out with me and the guys for a while now...,” Mark approached the subject again as you both slipped into bed. 

“Oh really?” you squeaked, cursing yourself for your high pitched voice, “I didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, it’s just they have been wondering what’s up. I told them it’s nothing because...there’s nothing, right?” he asked uncertainly, facing you as you laid on your back. You swallowed down a cough when you found your throat had turned dry.

“No, of course not. I’ve just been busy with graduation coming up and stuff.” Mark nodded in agreement, seeming pleased with the excuse and you bid him goodnight before automatically turning to your side, used to facing away from him now. 

But tonight he shuffled over, wrapping his arm around you as he snuggled into your back. He planted a kiss on your head and your heart melted when he intertwined your fingers together in front of you. 

“I’ll make sure the guys and I attend your big day!” he said, his voice already sleepy and yet he managed to make your heart burst with affection. It meant a lot to you since everyone else had rejected coming - mainly your parents and close friends - due to busy schedules and such. 

You sighed, feeling happy to know you had someone to look at after you accepted your scroll.

-

But you wouldn’t have someone to look at. As you stood waiting in line in front of the stage, waiting for your turn, you wouldn’t have someone to look at. You would constantly glance down at your phone, waiting for a message to explain why he and his friends weren’t there yet.

You would disheartingly go up the stage, shake the principal’s hand with a tight smile, take a picture whilst your eyes would flicker over the crowd in vain until you had to leave the stage with a hanging head. 

‘Something important must have come up,’ you thought, worry clenching your chest, ‘What if he got into an accident?’ You immediately reached for your phone and dialled Mark’s number, growing nervous with each dial tone when he picked up. 

“Hey Y/N, I’m so sorry!” Mark picked up, frantically apologising and you sighed in relief at hearing his voice. 

“It’s okay, Mark,” you said, “Are you alright? You didn’t get into an accident, did you?”

“No no, it’s all good, I’ve just held up at practice.” You nodded. That would have been your second guess. 

“Did you lose track of time again?” you asked good-naturedly, simultaneously hating and feeling fond of this trait.

“Yeah, kind of. It was an emergency,” You nodded again even though he couldn’t see you, “Yeri was crying because she couldn’t keep up with the others. Seriously, I’ve never seen her break down like this before...,” his voice faded into the background for a second as you took in his words, “It took me and the others a full hour to calm her down. Man, she must have been holding it all in for so long...”

“I see,” you whispered, closing your eyes tightly and clenching your hand into a fist. 

“I’m really, really sorry, love, for missing your graduation. I know it’s really important!” Mark apologised again and you distantly heard a chorus of ‘sorry’s from the guys, including Yeri, “I can make it to the after party-”

“No, don’t bother, really,” you said, not able to hide the bitterness in your voice. Someone called your name, asking if you needed a ride. You turned over to one of your fellow students, who had been your roommates before you moved in with Mark, and gave her thumbs up.

“Y/N?” Mark asked, a little apprehension colouring his tone. 

“I’m not going to stay for long anyway. And you should you stay with Yeri-ah,” you muttered, dying to hang up. 

“But-”

“See you,” you ended the call, taking in a few deep breathes to calm yourself. ‘This is your day, Y/N. Don’t let anyone ruin your day,’ you thought sadly. 

-

The party was in full swing, people lingering around in circles with their respective families and friends, chatting up storms with glasses of champagne or wine or whatever they wanted. 

To say you felt like the odd one out was an understatement, being the only one without a single acquaintance around, you were forced to stand with your former roommate’s people, akwardly making conversation with them. 

“Are you alright?” your colleague would whisper-ask you every minute and you would always nod until you couldn’t even lie anymore with the tears brimming in your eyes. 

After an hour you decided to call it a day, realising that you wouldn’t be able to save any joy you had with graduating. Sighing deeply, you watched the puff of air as you walked your way home, finding peace in the silent night with the occasional refreshing breeze. You suddenly felt so tired, tired of pretending, tired of holding on when it was so pointless. 

You knew you had to eventually set Mark free and the time had come now. ‘I will ask him to come over tomorrow,’ you decided, figuring he would stay at Yeri’s or wherever she was to keep her company. To your surprise, you saw him standing in front of your apartment door, an adorably confused expression on his face as he searched his pockets. Knowing him, he had forgotten to take them in the first place. 

His features brightened up when he noticed you walk over, “Y/N, thank Jesus you are here! I probably lost my keys again.” 

“Hey Mark,” you greeted him quietly, slipping your keys into the lock and opening the door without stepping in. 

“Hey jagi...,” he called you gently, noticing your distress and holding onto your arm, “I’m really sorry I missed your day. You know, I wanted to be there so bad..”

“And I actually believe you, Mark,” you said, turning to see him smile his beautiful dimpled smile, “But I don’t think it’s enough...anymore.” You watched his face slowly drop as he registered the words. 

“Wait- what do you mean?” he asked, stepping closer but stopping when you moved back, crossing the threshold to what was once the home for both of you.

“I mean, we should end it here.”

Mark’s eyes widened, shock crossing his features. “W-what? Why??” 

You held up a hand so he wouldn’t get in, closing the door. “Please, just stay over at someone’s else for tonight. I will have my things moved out by tomorrow.”

“Moved out where- Y/N!” he pressed his hand against the wood, preventing any form of barrier between you. By now, you had a hard time keeping your tears in and you just wanted to be out of his sight before he could see them, “ Where the hell are you going? Why are you talking like this?”

“Because you don’t love me anymore, Mark!” you finally shouted out the words that you had kept in your heart, breaking it in the process of finally stepping out of the constant denial. “You don’t love me anymore,” you sighed, this time quieter and more defeated, “I can tell, everyone can tell...and I know you are too nice to break up with me so I’m doing it for you.”

“But I do love you...,” he uttered, his mind racing to find out what made you think that he didn’t in the first place, but the hesitation was clear in his voice. 

You shook your head with a sad smile, “You don’t. So please...just go.” Your voice cracked at the end, freezing him into place and you took the moment to close the door on him, and you relationship. 

A few months later you would see a heavily disguised boy holding onto a hand of a petite, equally disguised girl walking down the streets, into the cafe you would usually find yourself in and you would immediately realise just who they were, causing you to turn your back on your’s and Mark’s favourite place to go on dates.

End...I guess.

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