#I imagine the very next scene to be Jane opening the door in her lounge clothes and a bowl of cereal hoping to see maura on the other side

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Crossover Angst

Find previous rizzles/bones crossover work here.

—

When Booth hops out of the Sequioia and opens Brennan’s door, it’s already kinda late. He’s an in-bed-early, wake-up-even-earlier sort of guy, and this Boston team… They burn the candle at both ends. All ends. Hell, they even strike a match under the middle. He’s tired, and he’s hungry, and he needs a couple hours away from the mania to talk things over with his partner. 

Who just so happens to be the woman he’s madly in love with. Christ.

“What is this place?” Brennan asks, rousing him out of his exhausted musing. They amble toward a little storefront on Prince Street, which has seen its tourists exit for the day, leaving locals to patronize the restaurants, the butcher shops, the bakeries, during their last few hours of operation. Angelina’s. 

“Little Italian joint, Bones,” says Booth, pulling open the door. The heavy, wooden frame squeals as it swings out, and he licks his lips in some relief. “Hear that? Means the food’s gonna be good.”

Brennan is only inches ahead of him, and she turns with a little disbelief. “The squeaky door?” she chuckles, “how could that possibly relate to the quality of food?”

“Don’t know how to explain it; don’t need to,” he tells her. “There’s mostly Sicilian fare but apparently they’ve got a puttanesca that rivals your own.”

“Your favorite,” Brennan chides. “The whore sauce.”

“The whore sauce,” Booth affirms. “But it comes from my neck of the woods, from Rome. So hey, can’t go wrong, right? Anyway, Rizzoli said they had some good vegetarian options.”

“Ah, Jane recommended it,” Brennan draws out. She takes off her trench coat and hangs it over the back of an old wooden chair when the waiter pointed them toward a table toward the windowfront. “That’s why we’re here.”

Booth knots his eyebrows together. He’s good at reading Brennan, probably better than anyone else, but he’s stumped here. That jumble of words usually signals jealousy, especially in girls - women - but Bones looks pleased. Humored. “That a problem?” he asks, searching for more. He needs more.

“Not at all,” Brennan answers. She does this thing where she shrugs and scoots her chair in at the same time, but the movements are fluid. There is no waste, no excess in the motion of her body. This enthralls him; it always had, though he hadn’t realized it until his love for her crashed down on him in a particularly painful, sweet revelation. Smitten had felt like an apt descriptor, but when Jane told him about the Sicilian thunderbolt, that punch of lightning, that felt perfect. And painful. It’s painful to watch her move, but also exhilarating, like he’s just stuck a fork in a socket. “You respect her.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. She’s good people,” Booth says. He takes the menu given to him by the waiter, and nods toward the middle of the page, where all the red wines are named. “Give us a bottle of the Sangiovese, huh? You’re gonna love this one,” he tells Brennan when the waiter nods and turns their wine glasses right side up before going back for the wine. “It’s bold. Real hearty, velvety Italian flavor.”

“Sounds like we’re still talking about Jane,” Brennan teases. Her eyes sparkle when she looks at him, and she offers him one of her signature, garish winks. 

Booth turns dour. He crosses his arms, his crisp white shirt rolled up just under his elbows on either side. “What?” he demands.

Brennan registers the change in mood, and he thinks about lightening up because he can tell she doesn’t know what she’s said, what she’s done, but dammit if he isn’t tired of the games. “Well, I… I wasn’t being very serious, Booth.”

“You weren’t, huh?” He prods.

“No, but, what would be the issue if I were? She’s attractive, you’re attractive, and you’re both single. You seem to suit each other. At least, superficially,” Brennan reasons aloud. She leans forward, puts her elbows on the tablecloth. She believes she’s making sense.

And maybe, in any other world, she would be. Maybe, in another world where she and Booth are just partners, just coworkers who collaborate to bring murderers to justice, just colleagues who sometimes grab after-work drinks, this argument would make sense. Rizzoli is… well, Rizzoli looks like a supermodel and she drinks some of his old army buddies under the table. She’s loud and to the point and kind of grumpy, but he can be, too. He thinks back to that early morning last week, when they’d held hands in mass while the priest ushered them through Eucharistic prayer. After all night at the scene of the first fresh crime they’d encountered in their time together, blood and brain matter and torn flesh seared in their consciousness, they’d agreed together that only the blood of Christ would wash it all away. So they’d dropped their scientists at their respective abodes and trudged into St. Joseph’s just after sunrise. And they’d touched because they needed the intimacy, the spirituality, without all the goddamn battle. 

Rizzoli’s perfect on paper. 

There’s just, y’know, the problem of both of them being in love with someone else. That thought, of yet another opportunity crushed under the weight of Bones’ magnetism, under the way she expands so as to push anything else out of the room, leaving nothing but the two of them and his annoying heart, angers Booth. He turns his eyes toward the flow of wine out of the bottle and into their glasses. He concentrates only on that so that he can speak without raising his voice. “Why you gotta do that? Why- why you gotta try to hook me up with people?”

“Booth, I was just-”

“No! No,” He shudders when he hears his volume the first time, like he’s gunshy of himself. He quiets down, a fist going into his hand when he props his elbows up on the table like she had. “You… I laid my heart out for ya, Bones. I told you I was in love with you. And god help me, I think you feel the same way. But for whatever reason, you didn’t… you can’t go there with me. And I’m tryin’ to be respectful of that. But this? Tryin’ to get me to go out with other people when you know I’m not even thinkin’ about anyone else right now is…”

“Alright, alright,” Brennan puts up her hand just so he’ll stop. “I… I won’t. I won’t anymore. I just… I care about you, Booth,” she confesses, her blue eyes screwed up and watery like she’s in pain, like she has any right to be in pain when she’s done all the pushing. “You deserve to be happy.”

“That doesn’t sound like you stoppin’,” he grumbles.

“I can’t give you what you want. I… don’t know how to be what you need,” Brennan whispers. She cries openly now, and Booth waves the waiter away as a kindness. 

But he still seethes. “Easy, Bones. Just be you,” he says, low and full of spite. 

“But it’s not that easy. Of course it’s not that easy. I’ve been me with you for years now and I still… I’m still…”

“Afraid?” He mocks, and when she nods because it doesn’t register with her, because she doesn't see the way he has intended to hurt her. “I just… I don’t get it. Help me understand, here, Bones, because you don’t seem to have trouble bein’ what other guys need. Jerks like Stires, Wexler, oh and god, Mark. Remember Mark?”

“I don’t appreciate-” Brennan’s face drops, she sniffles, and her brow furrows, but Booth pushes right through.

“So it’s me, right? Because you have no problem giving them the time of day, and I’m right here. I’m right here and I’m better. So it must just be that I don’t do it for you. I’m not enough of an asshole,” He is quiet and severe, leaning in to make his point.

She looks toward her glass of wine, thinks about throwing it in his face. And Booth knows he’d deserve it. But the bell over the door rings, and whatever, whoever Brennan sees, makes her put her hand down. “I’m leaving. This isn’t the time, or the place. If you want to have a discussion about this like an adult, give me a call.” She rises, snatches her coat from her chair, and glares at him for good measure.

“Oh? And where’re you goin’, huh?” Booth demands.

She aims to hurt him because she puts her face in his. She only does that when she spits fire. “I’m going to Jane’s. She invited me over to watch the game.”

“Oh yeah? Do you even know which game?!” Booth calls when she starts to walk away. He guesses that Jane’s invite was probably for the C’s game, which is currently just underway, and he guesses that Bones had originally turned it down. 

“Doesn’t matter!” She shouts back. She’s right. Really doesn’t matter.

___

“Hmm,” Maura holds Jane’s face as they kiss, soft and sweet in the low candlelight illuminating Jane’s small bedroom. Jane is on top of her, they’re under the covers naked, and god it feels good. Like eating cake with your hands or pouring a second glass of rosé when you said you’d just have one. “Hey.”

Jane groans because talking breaks the kiss open. She writhes closer, deepens the post-coital, sweaty embrace between them in hopes that she can erase all language. 

Maura must deny her. She offers Jane one last kiss, but then she tilts her head so Jane’s lips shift to her chin, across her jaw, down her neck. “Hey, hey…” she tries again. “I saw you stuffing down that Powerbar on the way back from Amherst this morning. Was that the last thing you ate?”

At the mention of the Powerbar, Jane’s stomach grumbles on Maura’s own. “What’s it to you?” Jane snarks. There is no bite in it, or rather, no power, because Jane currently bites on the mark she’s already left on Maura’s collarbone. 

Maura hates that she doesn’t hate it. That she won’t hate walking in public with it on, she won’t hate people seeing it and wondering. Or knowing that it was Jane. “That was almost twelve hours ago. Let me feed you.”

“You already did,” Jane snarks, teeth still out and nipping.

“Jane,” Maura warns. “I’ll go to Angelina’s. Pick something up and bring it back. Eat with me?”

“Angelina’s, huh?” asks Jane, rolling over onto her back so that her shoulder touches Maura’s. Maura kisses it. “Sounds good. I told Booth about it a few days ago. Thought it might be a good place for him to take Doctor B.”

Maura stops mid-smooch, lips pursed and frozen against Jane’s still-warm skin. “And how are things between you and Doctor Brennan?” she finally asks when she regains her thoughts. 

“Uh, normal? Things have been a lot less heated,” Jane says. “Uh, well, maybe that’s not the right word. Things are a lot less acrimonious.”

“But still heated?” Maura prods.

Jane chuckles. “Hey, don’t put words in my mouth when I specifically took ‘em out. But I mean, I’m tryin’, honey. I really am. I invited her over to watch the Celtics and Lakers tonight. Teach her the rules of basketball so she, I dunno, can make it a whole game without embarrassing Booth.”

“And she said no?” Maura turns her head at the exact moment Jane turns hers, and they gaze into each other’s eyes. Jane won’t be able to turn away. 

“She said no,” Jane affirmed. “But at least she knows I am attempting friendliness after last week.”

Maura pauses for a long time. Then she inches forward to kiss Jane. She injects it with lust, with luscious and wet intent as she rows their swollen, dusky lips together. “Jane?”

“Yeah?” Jane sighs.

“Don’t fuck that woman,” Maura threatens.

Jane smirks, and immediately Maura knows she’s shown Jane a weakness. But there’s no way she can take it back. She hardly cares about her exposed desperation. “Which one?” asks Jane. “Abby in payroll? She’s been wanting me to ask her out for years,” she teases. And god, she’s right. Abby wants Jane, pines for Jane even now. Even if Jane is full of shit. Maura frowns. Jane laughs, then quiets. “Or the Chief Medical Examiner? I heard she’s a real ice queen but I think she likes me.”

Maura softens at that, and shakes her head. This time, it’s her teeth that sink into Jane. Both soft and hard, and into Jane’s shoulder. “Don’t. Fuck. Her.” she reiterates.

There is no room for discussion.

“You got it,” Jane kisses Maura’s forehead with kindness when Maura latches onto her with possession. “You really gonna go get food? Because I could go for that Brasat’.”

“Beef, hmm? You’re quite hungry,” Maura muses, but she does sit up and look for the jeans she put on to come here.

“I just burned an NBA game’s worth of calories!” Jane answers back, But she blushes when Maura looks back from over her shoulder and smirks. They lock eyes, and certainly, the same scene, where Jane grips the corner of the bed while she drives into Maura from on top, crying out when Maura scratches long red lines down her back, runs through both their minds. “But I don’t have to tell you that.”

“I am going to get food, yes. I’ll even get an appetizer for us to share. But you have to get up now,” Maura orders. She stands, her pants on, and she shuffles around until she finds her bra. After that’s on, she shrugs her blouse over her shoulders. Jane continues to lay, and her eyes flutter shut. “I mean it, Jane. I’m not ordering all that food just for you to be too sleepy to eat. Get up. Get dressed. Turn on the game - find a way to stay awake.” Maura says. Then she throws a decorative pillow in Jane’s face.

“Ouch, fuck! Alright, alright, I’m gettin’ up,” grouses Jane.

She does indeed sit, and Maura rewards her with a kiss to the lips. “Good. I’ll be back. Set the table.”

“Yup,” says Jane.

Maura slips on her sandals, and lingers in the bedroom doorway. She doesn’t say anything, but catches Jane’s eye one more time and nods. Then she leaves.

Her car is close; Jane had given up her parking spot for Maura and put the unmarked around the corner. Maura had hidden the giddy, bubbly smile the gesture inspired and opened her legs instead. 

She really, really needs to stop doing that. At least, long enough to give her some time to think. Cases like this were always hard, and up until now, Maura had medicated by sliding Jane into place on top of her and blanching her brain. Well, now appears to be more of the same, but then, they’d been married, and it had been… allowed.

She trots down the stairs and out the side exit of the building, straight into the parking area. She gets in her car, turns on the engine, and sighs. They’re grown adults. They can sleep with whomever they please, including each other. But something about all of this feels forbidden, and Maura wonders if that’s why she likes it. That’s the part that she needs to slow down on. The part she needs to figure out. The part that feels like using, as she’d confessed to Jane some nights ago. 

Angelina’s is not far from Jane’s place, maybe a ten, fifteen minute drive, so Maura calls in her order before she pulls out of her spot. Maura also contemplates all these things as she maneuvers there, and mourns the Maura who had put down some of the best boundaries of her life at the start of her divorce. Where is that Maura? When she pulls up to the neighborhood, Jane’s old neighborhood, she finds a spot on Hanover Street and makes the short trek over to the storefront, resolving to worry about boundaries after she gets food into Jane’s belly. 

When she pulls open the old wooden door and steps inside the entryway, her sandals scrape against the mosaic-style tile until she stops where she stands. “D… Doctor Brennan?” she sputters when the woman herself stands up from her table. Brennan says something to Booth, Maura can tell him by his shoulders, hulking and sad. And then, Brennan makes her way to the door. Toward Maura. 

She’s angry. Maura reads the microexpressions and stands aside, while offering a half-smile and a look in that direction. No eye contact, that would make the both of them too uncomfortable. “Doctor Isles,” Brennan says, just before she pushes toward the door. “Have a great night.”

“Are you-? Where-?” Maura is still shocked to see the both of them here, she feels as though she should say more, that they should have a perfunctory conversation at least; her Brahmin upbringing vibrates within her. But Brennan is already gone. 

The door swings and rattles in its frame and there are a few head turns from other patrons, but that settles quickly enough as Brennan’s form retreats into the North End evening. Maura walks up to the counter, hands over her card, and in less than a minute or two, both it and her boxes of food are brought out to her, tied up nicely in a plastic bag. 

She is about to leave, to abandon the awkward situation she just messily dove into, until she turns and sees Booth’s face - well, she should revise. She doesn’t see his face, because it’s in his large hands, the heels of which press into his cheeks. She shakes her head, and then she crosses the few short feet to get to him. “Sangiovese is one of my favorites,” Maura tells him. He jolts, just a bit, and squints when he looks at her. 

“Doctor Isles, hey, how are ya,” He says. There is no conviction in it. 

“I’m just fine,” she starts. Then, she puts her bag of food on the table. “I’m picking up dinner for my ex-wife when I know I should not be. I’m very confused. All the time.”

He chuckles once, bitterly. “Yeah? Me too. Join the party,” he says. Then, he shrugs, like the assholishness is something he can remove like a coat. “I’m sorry, y’know. That you and Rizzoli are such a mess.”

“I’m sorry you’re going through your own mess,” Maura nods toward the door. “Is she alright?”

Booth sighs, and leans back into his chair, his glossy eyes toward the ceiling. “I don’t think so. I think I made the mess. And right now she’s, agh. Well, apparently she’s over to your guys’ place to catch…” he slides his watch around, “well, I’m assuming Celtics/Lakers.”

“She’s… she’s going to Jane’s?” Maura asks. Her head pounds, and she squeezes her hands together. She sucks her teeth.

And Booth, of course he reads that. He quirks a brow. “You didn’t know?”

“I thought she said no,” Maura’s acrimony leaks through the veneer, but she pulls it back as soon as it trickles forward. “You didn’t even get to eat?”

Booth chuckles. “No, no we didn’t.”

Maura pats the top of her bag. “Well, let’s eat this, shall we? It’s warm. We shouldn’t let it go to waste.”

Booth leans forward, rubs his hands together. “What about Jane?”

“She ate,” Maura snaps, pink suffusing her cheeks. Vengeance is a dish best not served at all. Her own words ring hollow and mocking in her head - do not fuck that woman. “And if she gets hungry enough she can have some cereal. We’re here, we should enjoy the cuisine while it’s fresh.”

“You know what I really wanna do?” says Booth. He downs the rest of the glass of wine in front of him. “I wanna go over to that bar next door. Screw the food.”

Maura hangs her head and she laughs. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” says Booth. Now that he thinks about it, he’s sure of it. He drops enough cash on the table to cover the bottle of wine and then some, and then he stands up and shrugs his blazer on. “They’re havin’ their fun, why don’t we?”

“Ok,” replies Maura. She stands, too, and smirks when she sees her package on the table. “Screw the food. They have a scrumptious Amarone that I think you’ll like.”

“I will, huh?” asks Booth, holding open the door as they step into the cool spring air. He holds out his elbow and she takes it, even though the walk isn’t long.

“If you’re like me and the Sangiovese is also one of your favorites, yes,” Maura tells him. She gets the door of the next establishment, and she ushers him in with a hand to the small of his back, like Jane is moving through her. 

He is surprised by it, but his smile is warm. Not bitter like it had been when she first saw him in Angelina’s. “Well you got me there, it is.”

They take their place at the bar, just a few other drinkers along its edge, and Booth insists that Maura order for them. She does, and he compliments her taste in reds. The dance floor is old, the lights swooping over it reminiscent of a high school dance, but he wags his brows when the music shifts. “Ole Blue Eyes,” he says when Frank Sinatra begins to croon. “My favorite.”

Maura sips the exceptional drink in her glass before setting it down. She pulls her lips back and stares at the napkin under her fingers. “Jane is partial to Dean Martin.”

“Well, can’t go wrong with the Rat Pack,” Booth says. “Hey, did you uh, did you tell her where you were? Tell her you weren’t comin’ back with her food?”

Maura’s face crumples when she shakes her head. She hides from him, and then she lifts her face up so that her tears don’t ruin what little makeup she has on.

Booth shuffles on his feet. Shit. “Uh, hey, Maura, hey. C’mon. You, you wanna go dance? No talkin’. We can just move a little.”

She looks up, and he looks down, and she can tell he has surprised the both of them with his offer. But, what the hell. She takes her drink, then he takes his, and she leads them over to the floor. They are by far the youngest couple currently dancing, the rest of the people their age at various tables, and they aren’t even a couple. They shouldn’t dance.

But Booth stands there, wide angles, gallant masculinity, open arms, and Maura folds into him. She puts her head on his shoulder and the hand he’s not using to hold his wine at his side goes between her own shoulder blades. Nice. Easy. Safe. He sways her, and she is content to be swayed by him - no expectations or rules.

It is the most comfortable she’s felt with a man wrapped around her - when he is devastated by his love for someone else. When her love for someone else keeps her heart far away from his. “I’m sorry,” she tells him. 

“Hey no,” he assures her. “Tell me what you’re thinkin’.” Frankie sings and he holds her close, and fuck. This may be the saddest he’s ever been. He prays she doesn’t ask him the same question.

“I’m thinking that I’m here with the wrong Italian, Seeley,” Maura whispers, turning so that it bounces on the cavern of his chest. “You are so unbelievably kind. But wrong. But I can’t stop hurting her.”

“You know, I was just thinkin’ the same thing,” he says. She’s unburdened him with that confession. So hell, maybe, even though it feels like digging a hot poker into his belly, he should just confess, too. “I was thinkin’ that I’m here with the wrong scientist. But she, oh god,” he inhales without exhaling, a ragged breath that cuts into the air around them. He catches her tears like a virus, but his don’t fall. “She can’t stop hurting me. What a pair, huh?”

Maura wraps her arms around his waist despite her drink, as though she’s forgotten it and knows only the shape of the glass in her hand. She squeezes him because he is warm and if she closes her eyes he feels like Jane. “I don’t know what I’m doing, and I feel like I’m looking at myself from the outside, unable to get her to stop.”

Maura doesn’t feel like Bones at all. But Maura needs him. Needs him to lie, needs him to hold her, needs him to ride out this slow dance and maybe a few more glasses of wine. “Things are… things are gonna be just fine, Maura. They’re gonna be just fine.”

She doesn’t say it back to him.

#lauren writes rizzoli and isles fanfiction #lauren writes crossover fiction too #god this was a little sadder than I intended #it will help you if you read the last piece for *sports context* #I imagine the very next scene to be Jane opening the door in her lounge clothes and a bowl of cereal hoping to see maura on the other side #but it ain’t maura #also don’t worry we’re not and nor will we ever be mixing ships here #b&b and rizzles are too in love with their respective partners to do that

[cynicalrainbows]

Ducklings

This is one of the sillier things I’ve written but it’s an idea I’ve had for a while.

It’s for the very lovely and very talented @the10amongstthese3s, who is just such a positive force on tumblr and such a lovely kind person.... I thought they deserved some appreciation, especially during this horrible time when they’re still supporting and helping people AND writing wholesome heartwarming ficlets too so.....here, duckie :3

Jane hummed to herself as she washed up. It wasn’t a song she recognised, just something she was making up on the spot, and as she rinsed plates and cups (including five mugs with various literary quotes on them, all half filled with now-cold coffee- she made a mental note to talk to Aragon about talking to Cathy about her caffeine consumption- and a glass bearing the remains of what looked like one of Anna’s ‘protein shakes’), she smiled to herself, at the intricacies of the human brain. 

Honestly, it was something she’d never thought of during her first life- it wasn’t something she’d have even thought to contemplate at court- but now… now, she felt incredibly grateful she had the freedom and the mental energy to just wonder at the complexities of something that could fit inside a skull and yet also create new music out of absolutely nothing, without trying-

‘Are you humming the Love Island theme?’ Cathy appeared in the doorway.

‘.....um….no….’ Jane jumped a little at the sudden interruption and busied herself wiping around the sides of the sink.

‘Ok.’ Cathy shrugged, obviously not really caring either way, and helped herself to a biscuit. ‘I just came to get you-’

‘Get me? Why? Oh god, is something wrong? What’s happened? I TOLD Anne to be careful-’

‘Jane, relax. Everything’s fine! Anne….has not been careful, admittedly, but that’s not why I came to get you.’

‘Then what?’ Jane tried to imagine what it could be if not a heely-induced catastrophe and came up blank.

‘Just- come and see-’

Mystified, Jane allowed Cathy to tug her towards the door.

*

‘We don’t even know how they got into the garden-’

Jane stepped out of the backdoor and joined the other queens, who were currently squashed together on the tiny bit of patio that had been described as a ‘spacious terrace’ by the landlord when they’d first begun renting.

‘What are we looking at?’

‘There- come and sit-’

Catalina prodded Anne until she made space on the low stone wall and then pulled Jane to sit down next to her.

‘Look, there, by the bush-’

‘I can’t- Oh!’ 

Jane found herself laughing.

‘Sweet, isn’t it?’

‘How did they- why?’

‘God knows-’ Anna, leaning against the side of the house, shrugged and Kitty, leaning against Anna, copied her.

‘I saw them when I came out to sunbathe- look how cute they are! It’s like a disney film-’

Jane had to admit- despite not being quite the disney fan that Kitty was (and that Catalina would absolutely deny being, despite the fact that she and Jane shared an extremely thin bedroom wall), there was something fairytale-ish about it.

A mallard was making their way across the lawn. This in itself would have been slightly surprising given that the biggest body of water in the queens garden was a slightly rusted watering can- except for the fact that mallard was not alone.

A flock of assorted birds were trailing behind them- dozens of brown and yellow ducklings, but there were also sparrows hopping across the overgrown grass, moorhens making slow deliberate steps on their splayed feet, blackbirds and starlings, wrens and chaffinches…. A cygnet stood a head (or should that be a neck, Jane wondered?) higher than any of the others, looking perfectly at home; a red-eyed pigeon pecked at a bit of something in the grass.

There wasn’t anything at all hurried about the entourage- they didn’t seem to be fleeing anything that Jane could see, and there was certainly nothing predatory in their attitudes. All seemed content to simply follow the wandering mallard, who in turn didn’t appear to be in the least put out by their hangers-on.

‘So they’re just----following, like-’

‘Like ducklings, yes-’ Catalina surveyed the scene with a happy sigh. ‘I’ve never seen so many wild birds at once-’

‘Oh look-’ Anne nudged Jane and directed her attention. ‘Look there, look what happens when-’

Jane followed Anne’s pointing finger, to where a black and white cat that she recognised as belonging to their neighbour prowled under the rhododendrons. She felt a stab of alarm.

‘Shouldn’t we-’

‘Oh no-’ Anna shook her head. ‘It’s fine, it just keeps repeating-’

As she spoke, the cat slunk forward, in an affectedly nonchalant way, until it had nearly passed the crowd, and then darted towards a stray duckling.

 Jane opened her mouth to shriek and started forward- only to see the mallard launch themselves half a foot into the air with surprising dexterity, snapping it’s beak in an unexpectedly angry manner and beating at the cat with furious wings.

Turning tail, the cat took refuge in a bed of pansies and the duck subsided, sweeping the ducking under a wing and resuming their place at the head of the flock.

‘You’d think the cat would have learned by now, it’s tried four times already-’ Kitty giggled and Jane smiled back in relief.

‘I thought it was going to-’

‘I know, so did we- Anne fell over herself rushing to save them when it first went for one-’

‘Stubbed every toe I have AND spilled Cathy’s coffee over myself-’ Anne glowered and then brightened. ‘Did you SEE how quickly it moved though?’

‘Is it usual for a duck to do that?’ Anna asked and Cathy shrugged.

‘No idea…. In any case, I don’t think it really matters does it? I mean, would YOU want to be the one to tell the duck they can’t adopt every bird they see?’

‘Definitely not.’

‘No way-’

‘God no.’

On that, the queens all agreed.

‘It’s nice to watch, isn’t it?’ Kitty observed, moving to sit at Jane’s feet and leaning her head against her knees. ‘Like a little adopted family-’

‘It’s lovely.’ Jane put a hand to smooth back Kitty’s hair and then looked around at the others, lounging around them, cooing and chuckling over the scene before them. ‘Really, really lovely.’

#six #sixfic #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction

[geekns]

The rules are as follows: go to page 7 of your WIP, go to the 7th line, share 7 sentences, and tag 7 more writer-bloggers to continue the challenge.

I was tagged by @grassangel  who specificially inquired about projects that are not PMS but i’m including it since it’s the only thing i’m actively working on. I haven’t even written another words of Princeling!

1 - PMS ch. 14 (ugh this is random and sounds terrible)

She made a sound of disagreement but was rather at his mercy.

“Just while we eat?” he cajoled. She rolled her eyes.

She dozed while he puttered the in the kitchen. She felt warm and safe hearing him cook for her. She wanted to try to feed herself this time.

A few minutes later he was setting food on the table between them.

2 - Tea with the Brig (doesn't have seven pages, only five; this is from page one)

“I say, who are you?” the Brig demanded, jumping to his feet.  “Where have you brought me?”  His chair thumped to the rugged floor, overturned.  The doors behind Missy opened abruptly, and he backed away from the sound.  She heard Seb quietly threatening someone, restraining them from entering the small sitting room.  The Brig was gazing around her tea room in open shock.  Sunshine streaming through curtains, potted plants, an ebony and velvet changing screen, a chaise lounge.

3 - still untitled twissy fic should have finished ages ago (i’m so sorry)

And she felt as if she were being watched.  She scanned her surroundings, pretended to look at a watch--not that she had or needed one--didn't see anything out of the ordinary.  Nothing was out of place, just quiet as death.  She tilted her head back, crossed her ankles, and closed her eyes.

After a long minute there was a quiet rustling and a breath of air.  Missy kept her eyes closed and refrained from crinkling her nose: someone needed to bathe. Small hands touched her knees.

4 - Petrichor sequel that i sometimes return to but may never finish (ugh this is an awkward section, thus why it’s unposted)

But he was willing to try to do this for Donna if she understood the risk to herself.

“Yes,” she said again.

“Lastly, you will not bear these children until they are born, it is...” he didn't want to say impossible, he didn't actually know that for certain.  “advisable that the male carries the eggs after a certain point.”

“Eggs?” Donna confirmed, doubt in her voice.  Humans are mammal, was he trying to tell her that Time Lords weren't?

“There's no word for it in your languages,” he explained.

5 - Epilogue to Something Blue (from page five, again no seventh page)

The temple was nearly fully submerged itself, its marble columns shining beneath the indigo water.  It had an upper level that was still mostly above water that he was headed for.  He cut power and drifted the last bit, pulling up to a balcony.  He leapt over the railing, his feet only partially submerged.  It only took a moment to tie the boat up, and then he was ascending a few stairs into the temple's interior.

There were no plaques or displays or velvet ropes in here.  This part of the temple was typically off limits to the public, though clean enough that perhaps VIP tours or fundraisers were perhaps an event.

6 - Incubus (now read this, i fully intend to delete this scene at a later date but it’s still in the draft)

The Doctor squirmed, resisting the urge to tell Jack what was going to happen next time they met:

“I don't know the details, Jack,” he lied.

“And even if you did, you wouldn't say anything,” he laughed.  “I knew what I was dropping on you when you left me at Torchwood, after that year that never was.  I could have stayed with you, but I knew that it was time to get out.  That's when I decided not to pine after you anymore, start trying to form some new connections.”

“And now?”

7 - Unicorn (Simm!Master regenerates into Missy post-End of Time, now non-canon)

It hurt, it was too warm, but she endured it.  She grabbed a bar of soap and started scrubbing harshly at her pale skin, trying to bring some color to it and get rid of the horrid stench of living rough.  She couldn't even remember the last time she had taken a bath, nor a shower.  Her thoughts started to wander again.  The Doctor had never been rough with her, but she had been rough with him.  A part of him hadn't liked it, but the part of her that had been going mad had wanted it.  She had wanted him to hate her, or to at least act as if he did.

8 - A Thousand More (Simm!Master regenerates post-the Doctor Falls...i have no memory of writing this!!! From page two out of five.)

She gradually regained control of her bodily processes and limbs, and told her body to sit up.

The third thing she noticed was her hair. It was dark, which suited her just fine, but it was everywhere. She had more hair than that bitch River Song. It was at least waist-length and had a mind of its own. Portions of it were damp from her tears, and it was hanging in her face now, wild curls frizzing frightfully and completely out of control. It simply would not do; she would have to tame the mop and quickly.

9 - In Case of Emergency (Ten, Donna, and Martha stick around a bit longer after “the Doctor’s Daughter” and get to see Jenny regenerate)

"Jenny," the Doctor gasped, voice tight with unshed tears.  "Oh, you came back to me, you regenerated."

"Is that what that was?" Jenny asked, reaching to pull Donna into the embrace she was sharing with her father. “I'd never felt pain anything like it, I was so scared."  She buried her face into Donna's chest, turning away from her father entirely.  She was shorter now, just as petite but less developed as a woman, with curlier hair now in a beautiful strawberry blonde. Her eyes searched for Donna's approval, and were brown, the same color as the Doctor's, which was jarring to the extreme, but it was still Jenny looking out at her.

10 - The Doctor’s Backup Plan (mpreg crack, pure crack)

The Doctor blinked at her.

“I suppose,” he allowed.  “I hadn't thought of that.  I guess I'll put on some protection...not that you're likely to be impregnated by me.  I doubt that we're compatible.”

“You don't know for sure?” Donna asked, amazed that he was admitting to a gap in his vast knowledge.  She often wondered if he actually knew half of what he claimed to.

11 - Slap (basically the Doctor gets turned on when Donna slaps him??? Donna’s POV, terribad)

Had he ever done this before?  The pervert probably had, multiple times. But Rose was the name and size of a mere girl, not a real woman. Donna would make sure that he forgot her.  She wagered that Rose had never even considered playing rough like this, no Rose was a porcelain doll for a pedestal, not a woman with deeper needs.  Not a woman capable of fulfilling an old man's darkest fantasies.  And that's what he was, she realized...she had no idea how old this man was, but his eyes were old, and tired, and seen more than even she could imagine.

12 - And Then She Forgot (Donna tries to go back to work at the temp agency after the mindwipe)

Donna blinks at him, stunned, and tries to regroup as quickly as possible. She bursts into tears, laying it on as thick as she dares.  She can feel the eyes of the other employees and potential temps on her as she sobs away.  Kevin sighs, walks around the desk, and offers her a tissue box.

“I suppose you didn't hear about the accident,” she manages to take a tissue between sobs.

“Accident?” he asks dryly, sitting on the edge of his desk with his arms crossed.

13 - Smith, Jones, Noble, and Mott (AU series 3 ep “Smith and Jones”)

“Sarah!” he exclaimed as they hugged each other tightly.  “This is Donna, and this is Martha.  Girls, this is Sarah Jane Smith.”

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“No Rose or Mickey this time?” Sarah Jane asked, smiling at the two women warmly, albeit a little confused.

“Uh, no, not after...” the Doctor lowered his voice. “...Canary Wharf.”

14 - Desert Fox (original fic, very old)

When I wake the lights have been dimmed, and I no longer have to squint against their harshness.  Logan is seated beside me, his hands clasped around one of mine, his head resting on our hands.  I feel no pain, only relief, comfort, safety.  I realize suddenly that this is why I have chosen to stay with him:  he is the only human I have ever felt safe with.  I lift a hand to brush his hair out of his face.  He had grown it back out, has yet to cut it again.

"How are you feeling, miss...?"

I get lots of ideas but not much traction. I tag @basmathgirl @missysrehabilitation @ellym3lly @perrydowning @emilyweepsforpilfrey @kylorenvevo @xreyoflight and anyone else who may want to take a whack at it

#writing #fanfic #this is embarrassing tbh #tagged

[imagine-loki]

Taming the rage

TITLE: Taming the Rage

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 48 AUTHOR: lokilover9

Original Imagine: Imagine Odin tells Loki that he has to marry and it’s you. You’ve hated him for years. Every time he sees you in the palace he smirks knowing all the duties you’ll have to perform as his princess, making you cringe. He isn’t exactly fond of you either, but can’t help looking forward to the challenge.

RATING: Teen

By the end of that week, preparations for Thors Cornation were in full swing and the more Loki saw of it, the more irritable he became. One day he was reading in the library and Erika was in the kitchen making tea. Two maids came upstairs from cleaning around the pool and were quietly talking about the affair as they headed past the library to go upstairs.

Loki entered the hall and snapped at them. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on your duties as opposed to your obnoxious muttering?”

Erika stepped out to see the the maids frozen where they stood while Loki glared at them. “Loki Darling.” She calmly stated. “Could you help me with something please?” When he stepped past her, she gestured to the maids and they scurried up the stairs.

He stopped behind the counter as Erika re reentered the room. “What do you need? Has the tea tray suddenly become too heavy for you? Allow me then.” He rudely commented.

He went to pick it up, but she stopped him. “No thank you, don’t.”

He backed away staring at her. “Very well. What do you need?”

“You know they meant no harm right?”

“Are you referring to the maids?”

“Yes and I know you heard what they were talking about. Why did you snap at them like that?”

His expression became a scowl. “It wouldn’t have mattered what they were discussing. They have a job to focus on, do they not?”

“Yes and they do it well. They’re only talking about things because…”

He picked up the tea tray slamming it down so hard against the counter, the lid of the pot bounced onto the floor and half of its contents splashed out.

“Yes I know Erika.” He growled. “Because everyone else in this fucking palace is talking about it too!”

He’d never snapped at her like that and she wasn’t sure of what to say. “Loki it's…”

“What Erika? It’s going to be alright? Is that what you think? The prodigal son is about to become King and you believe that?”

“Loki, I was only going to say it isn’t their fault.” She took a step towards him, but he darted for the corridor.

“Let’s hope when my brother does become King, he remains as kind to his ‘maids’ as you are to ours Erika!”

He slammed their chamber doors when leaving and not expecting him to go, she went after him. When stepping into the corridor, he was nowhere in sight and her heart sunk.

Later that night, she tried waiting up for him, but failed and Loki found her sleeping on his side of the bed. Noticing some bunched up tissues on the night stand, he realized she’d been crying and felt bad for not returning sooner. After quietly undressing, he slowly pulled down the blanket and gently made his way onto the bed. She stirred, but said nothing and Loki kissed her cheek.

“I’m sorry I made you cry Darling.”

Erika could smell whiskey on his breath. “Why did you just leave like that and not come back? I was worried about you.”

“I shouldn’t have done that either. I guess I needed to let off some steam.”

“Please tell me where you went?”

“I went to the palace lounge and had a few drinks with Fandral and Hogun. I do apologize for worrying you.”

He opened his arms and although still disappointed by his actions, she couldn’t resist slipping into them. “Are you alright Loki?”

He stared over her head at the wall. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Feeling relieved to at least know where he’d gone, she thought it best not to talk about anything regarding his outburst. A lump built in her throat though and she couldn’t stop a sob that escaped her.

“Come now. I really didn’t mean to worry you and I didn’t go far.” He stroked her hair and when she sobbed again, he looked at her. “Do you not like Fandral and Hogun anymore? We used to…”

“No Loki, you don’t understand. My cycle began this afternoon.”

At first he said nothing, his expression remaining stoic, yet appeared deeply pensive.

“Loki?”

He took a deep breath and replied. “And this is why you’re sad?”

She nodded. “I know we weren’t really ready, but I think knowing how happy Jane is about her second has left me sentimental about it.”

Loki pulled her close, his blood simmering beneath his skin. “Remember when you said you’d wait for our wedding?”

“Yes.”

“Our time will come for that too Darling, alright?”

“I know, but still.”

“Besides, you can barely handle my clones. Do you think any more of me running amuck would be wise?”

She chuckled against his chest. “They’d be much smaller, yet probably still as bratty.”

“See, then you need more time to prepare. Let’s get some sleep now, hmm?”

He kissed her and she nestled closer, deciding to tell him in the morning she’d be minding Junior later than usual the next day.

Loki laid scowling towards the wall, lazily rubbing her back. ‘Well, how nice.’ He thought. ‘Let’s chalk up another thing fate willingly delivers you dear brother.’

The next morning, he was just getting out of the shower when she approached him. “There’s some breakfast for you in the kitchen.”

“Thank you I’m famished.”

She hesitated in the doorway while he dried his hair.

“Is something wrong?” He asked.

“No. I’ll be a little later than usual today though. I won’t be back until after dinner.”

“Oh?”

“Jane asked me to mind Junior longer as she’s doing some…some things with Frigga.”

Loki looked at her in the mirror. “Preparations involving the ‘big event’ I gather?”

His tone was sarcastic and she sighed before answering. “Yes”

Passing her in the doorway, he pecked her on the lips. “Well then, enjoy your day.”

“What will you do?”

He smiled. “I’m certain I’ll find something to occupy my time.”

Erika stood quietly while he did up his pants, then watched him walk back into the bathroom.

“Bye Darling. Don’t be late.”

“Alright. See you later then.”

She went downstairs and Loki walked to the bedroom door, listening as their chambers doors closed. Then he walked back into their bedroom, looked in the large dresser mirror, picked up a vase and threw it so hard, the entire thing shattered. After standing there deep in thought for a few minutes, he used magic to reassemble it, got dressed and left.

Erika arrived at Thors looking pensive and was quiet even after picking up Junior.

“Are you alright?” Jane asked?

Her eyes welled with tears and when walking into the playroom, attempting to put him down, Junior said no and hugged her. “I know you little turkey. That’s your favourite word now isn’t it?”

“Erika.” Said Jane. “He’s telling you no because he doesn’t want you to be sad. Why are you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m fine. You guys go alright.” Smiling her best, she kissed Juniors cheek. “See sweety? Aunties good.”

He smiled back, pointing at some toys. “Pay?”

“Yes.” She replied. “Let’s play.”

He squiggled and when she put him down, Jane hugged her. “I’m sorry honey. Talk later?”

“Sure.”

Thor entered the room to say goodbye to Junior and Erika avoided eye contact. “Thank you for agreeing to stay later today.”

She replied, looking into the toy box. “No problem, you’re welcome.”

Thor gave Jane a curious look and she shook her head. “We should be going then, we can’t leave Frigga waiting.” She kissed Junior goodbye. “Be good and stop saying no.”

He giggled up at her. “No.”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

Thor and Jane talked quietly while walking the palace halls.

“Is something bothering Erika?” He asked.

Jane sighed. “I think it’s Loki honey. She’s spoken of how he’s been rather moody lately.”

“I worried of this and haven’t seen him since his trip. Once performing his required duties for the day, he disappears.”

“Where do you think he goes?”

“Back to his chambers I suppose, yet I’m certain not far otherwise. He’d worry too much about Erika. Do you think any animosity he still may have towards me is being inflicted upon her? I’d really hoped he and I were beyond that now.”

“I don’t know Thor, but something doesn’t feel right. I think he still harbors a lot of resentment about things. Especially towards your Father.”

“I admit to understanding why as Loki should have been told the truth long ago. Yet I knew nothing of his heritage until he did.”

Jane slid her arm beneath his. “I know you didn’t, but you becoming King now is a harsh reminder to him that he’ll never be one and why.”

“I realize that too, but he knew it was inevitable that I would eventually take Fathers place.”

They were approaching the Royal chambers when Jane pulled him behind a pillar. “True, but besides knowing he’ll never be a King, do you not see how your father still treats him?”

“I see he keeps his distance in many ways, yes. I believe his is still reluctant to fully trust Loki.”

“No honey, he treats you very differently than he does Loki. Even I see it.”

He went silent for a moment. “I realized after thinking back to before he learned of his true heritage, how on many occasions my actions towards him were thoughtless and smug. I’ve told Loki this.”

“I know, but your Father hasn’t changed. If it’s obvious to ‘me’ how he still favors you, imagine how obvious it is to Loki. Right now I think Odin’s behavior is like salt on an unclosed wound.”

“I don’t know what to do about that. It’s not like I can confront my Father regarding the matter. His trust in Loki is still too weak to even attempt such a discussion.”

“I know, and it could cause animosity between you and Odin which I’m aware you don’t want either. Especially not now. I’ll see if I can talk to Erika and find out what’s upset her.”

Unfortunately, Erika was much too tired to stay long after they returned and with Thor present, Jane didn’t think she’d say much anyway.

She then returned to her chambers to a rather peculiar scene…..

#Loki #Angst #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #taming the rage #chapter 48 #lokilover9 #odin #Arranged marriage #palace #chuckling #duties #princess #cringing #Challenges