#compromise with me. is that not what counselors are supposed to do???? or have i just had bad counselors until now??? because im NORMAL. i

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Gavin Quotes

this man is just pure love given form istg. @xanyiaz as promised, it’s gav’s turn, ta daaa~

“You can. I know you can.”

“What? I took my shirt off that was his tip.”

“Yes, I just sexualized a building.”

“I’d make an incredible Princess Peach. I’m a vision in pink.”

“My love.”

“Tell your guidance counselor that Gavin says hello. And that I hope the stains came out of his shirt.”

“Deviant, hold me back, the joke’s writing itself.”

“I know perfectly well what a miicrowahvé is. I just don’t know how to operate it.”

“I don’t suppose you feel like sharing his address, in case I wanted to help him… ‘move on’ a little more quickly?”

“Like Empathy Daemon Caelum? Talks too fast, little horns, almost too-sweet Caelum?”

“Oh, nothing special, I just want to see if I can send Vega into orbit around his namesake.”

“But you don’t mind sucking hard?”

“I’ve tasted every kind of ecstasy that the people of this world can experience, but yours is the one that sets my heart on fire.”

“I know feelings. Even the ones I haven’t given myself a chance to feel. I love you. I have loved you. Tried to show it in the ways I knew how, even before I could admit the words to myself. I love you.”

“Oh come on, do-able can be a form of praise.”

“Maybe I don’t care who hears. As long as I get to.”

“When I’m with you, I feel like I’m home. More than that actually. Being with you changes what home means.”

“Oh no! Oh I just realized something, Deviant! I’ve never had to whisk a combination of egg yolks, water, oil, and vanilla before! I guess you’ll have to show me how, by coming up behind me, wrapping your arms around mine, and guiding my hands.”

“Well, as of this morning, the human population has decided to reverse their historical position and now defer to my judgment on what time it is. And I say it’s still bedtime.”

“Is this what they mean when they say relationships are about compromise? Pinning your partner in place until they agree, under duress, to carve out a few minutes of sleepy cuddling?”

“What an odd way to refer to Huxley.”

“You make me so very happy, Deviant. In ways I’d never given myself lease to imagine.”

“You are sin given form, aren’t you? Looking up at me like that. Perfection.”

“Nothing will stop me from keeping you safe.”

“You’re my sky, Deviant. The space between my stars. What I feel for you… in a lifetime of sensing the emotions of others, I never imagined I could feel like this. This much. And I am so grateful for it. And for you.”

“Oh 7/11, I owe you so much.”

“I do have a more… chaste idea. I know, the shock may kill you.”

“It’s sweet, Damien. You’re allowed to be sweet.”

“Yes, I am bad. But I’m very good at it. And I’m yours, my love.”

“What? I’m not grinning, I’m not doing anything. I don’t know what you could mean by that Deviant.”

“Yes, it belongs to you, my love. However you want it. However you’d like it.”

“Who says I can’t study laying down with my eyes closed?”

“I’m allowed to whine. It suits me.”

“Put me where you want me.”

“Well I’m the tooth fairy, can’t you tell?”

“Your scent teasing my senses… If that’s weird, then what the hell do you call what we did last night?”

“You burn rapture through my body, until my vision hazes… and haloes and bends. Like liquid.”

“Your touch ignites my stars.”

“I don’t think you feel gross.”

“Not our fault we’re forever surrounded by a bunch of tyrannical Puritans.”

“I don’t know how well I can pass for a ‘bro’, but I’ll bravely soldier on in Huxley’s honor.”

“Yes, baby.”

“You changed my life. You change it every day. You make me better. And I love you more than human words can convey.”

“There’s no such thing as a perfect match, there is no form of a relationship that doesn’t come with disagreement and effort, but the feelings we hold for one another and the work that we put in for one another are enough to weather any storm. And that’s the difference.”

“And what greater crime is there than to disappoint a rat? Maybe Huxley is wearing off on me after all.”

“‘Adult Pink Fruit Monarch’costume, here I come.”

“Yours is a soul that makes the stars shine brighter. And you’re beautiful for it. Always.”

#and basically the entirety of Your Incubus Confesses His Feelings (Again) While You Sleep #redacted gavin #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #bubbler’s top quotes

[iamnotawomanimagod]

little irritated with husband at the moment

he's been going out a lot the past few weeks. like he normally does MtG once a week but lately it's been 2+

so he's exhausted. he's super burnt out and grumpy.

and I'm like.........okay, don't play as much MtG then?? like if you're mad/upset/tired about not having enough downtime, give yourself a little more downtime???

I'd be a bit more understanding if he was like, overworked and overwhelmed from that. but it's a card game. he's been gone for 10+ hours on weekend days and he doesn't have to do that.

(everybody has to work too much under late-stage capitalism and therefore has less downtime to do things they actually want to do, but that's not the point.)

he came home really grumpy last night, then woke up grumpy today. and we were supposed to talk about who is going to the airport to pick up his parents. and I could just tell that if I didn't just do it, it was going to be a fight. so I agreed to do it before I even got out of bed, before it was even brought up, just to avoid the argument.

and I honestly wanted to stay in and work today. weekends are when I work the most. I'm also the one who took his parents to the airport. was kinda hoping that we could trade off.

but then the one day this week that he doesn't have to leave the house will be spent driving to the airport. and I get why that bums him out/makes him unhappy.

but he's also recently been like "you don't ask enough for the things you need, you compromise too much"

and there's a little part of me that's like....what other choice do you give me? why would I ask for the things I need when the response is usually a huffy sigh, or a complaint, or just generally being inflexible about changing your behavior/plans for me?

it's not a constant, it just feels like it's been especially bad lately.

we've been together for 12 years. the solution at this point is not "dump him," and it's a lot more than "talk it out." we talk almost everything out. I was raised by counselors, the number one thing they got right is teaching me how to communicate my feelings effectively.

Idk. I just needed to vent. I love him so much. he's my family. he's making me crazy lately. I'm at the end of my rope when it comes to being the only one who handles domestic shit. I do compromise too often. I don't feel like the alternative is better.

anyway. not really looking for advice. just needed to get it off my chest.

#rambling about my life

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 2, Episode 7 ("Like Mother, Like Daughter") 

The episode opens with Rory and Lorelai insulting each other's taste in music.

LOL, poor Dido, what did she ever do to you Lorelai? #IWantToThankYouu

Dido reference AND a Discman in the first 5 minutes of the episode. Be still my little Millennial heart.

Rory sitting down to enjoy two slices of white bread with no filling (served on fine china) is one of my favorite moments from this series and another fine example of Rory's bizarre eating quirks. Given that in a previous episode Rory was practically eating a Thanksgiving meal in the cafeteria, this must be some sort of special theme day at Chilton. Prison Lunch Day. Or Public School Lunch Day. Rory's Two Slice Tuesday is unfortunately interrupted by the guidance counselor looking to have a little chat. GC won't say why she needs to see Rory but she needs to see her as soon as possible, then tells her this discussion is going to be long enough to make her late for her next class. I once again am envious of Rory's visible lack of anxiety/blissful naivete. I want to live in the clouds like Rory does. No "We need to talk, but not yet, and I won't tell you why, so eat your lunch and just let the anticipation stew the whole time" in the history of ever has had a good outcome but Rory is just smiling and strolling along her merry way and somehow not hurking up her Prison Sandwich. I had such a visceral reaction to this one-time, unimportant Guidance Counselor character that my review began to turn into something of a trauma dump and I had to reign it in, a bit. As a 12-14 year old whenever I saw a "counselor" or school psychologist approaching to "have a little chat" while I was alone (because I was being tortured by bullies and deeply depressed and these same psychologists were doing fuck all to combat it), and they would always use that same sickly sweet, phony, passive aggressive voice and language like this lady here. My fight or flight response would kick into high gear.

Rory Gilmore? OUR Rory Gilmore? Social behavior? Not Tristan? Or Paris?

Alright lady, you need to leave my poor friendless girl alone. Let her chill alone with her bread slices and fruit cup and her novels and let her listen to Dido on her Discman without interference.

Oh Lady, you did NOT just come for my girl's Discman. DISCMAN. Walkman is for CASSETTE TAPES. Lady: When we write recommendations to a University on behalf of a student, the student's social skills are a big part of it. Lemme get this straight, Rory is constantly being harrassed (and her sexual purity being bought into question) on a near daily basis by Paris, Tristan, Madelyn and Louise and so homegirl here decides she's better off chilling alone at lunch and it's HER fault and she won't get into college? Ayup, this is pretty much of a mirror of my own life in the same time period. Schools just did not give a fuckall about student's wellbeing and mental health and put the blame on innocent students like Rory. *more war flashbacks*

But in the real world, Rory would get eaten alive socially in a big college, so that much is true.

Alright lady. Kindly, from the bottom of my heart, lovingly...get bent. Rory: "Loners are those guys you see walking around wearing out of date clothing, they tend to carry a duffel bag, with god knows what inside!"

Lady: Loners come in all shapes and sizes, even pretty girls. Whoa, lady!!

Rory: I don't suppose there is a Walkman/ reading lunch time club I could join is there? Me: Form one and I'll join you. Us friendless losers trying to avoid passive aggressive guidance counselors need to stick together. Lorelai: What does she expect you to do? Rory: I guess that means going up to strange kids at school and saying "hey, mind if I awkwardly butt in where I don't belong and don't want to be?" My heart breaks for Our Rory Gil. Lorelai: Chilton is a cult! Yeah, maybe, but your beloved Stars Hollow is also a cult, which is compromised of many smaller sub-cults. Kirk Job: Car Mechanic

Lorelai: How dare she do this to you? Rory: It wasn't just her, it was Charleston's suggestion. Of course it was. These Passive Aggressive Counselors and their superiors making lives of their already miserable students even more miserable always worked in teams. I just want to point out again (sort of repeating myself here) that this lady did only minimal probing into WHY Rory might prefer eating lunch alone. Kirk: I couldn't help but overhear. I ate lunch by myself and carried a duffle bag and I turned out just fine. R&L:

Sure he's a grown man with night terrors who lives with his mother, but for a small town with limited employment opportunites Kirk somehow manages to find work whenever he needs it and seems content with his life (and eventually finds love), so don't despair girls. Lorelai wants to go down to Chilton to give PAGC and Charleston a piece of her mind, good luck with that. As I'm watching this show for the fourth time, I'm a jaded chain smoker and no longer blissfully naive and expecting that Rory will suddenly propel through the social stratosphere at PAGC's suggestion.

Portrait of author on her fourth Gilmore Girls rewatch.

I already know that by the time she graduates high school Rory has not made a single new friend at Chilton (besides Paris, arguably) OR outside of school in Stars Hollow, and I also know that by the time she graduates college Rory has still not made a single new friend besides Paris (who is more like her wife at that point anyway, and no I don't count those two bozos they tacked on in a desperate move near the end, Lucy and Hailey or whatever the hell their names were, who cares), and by the time she's 34 in A Year in the Life she still has not made one single friend that anyone is aware of. Okay, okay, fine, I guess we can count Marty as her friend. But my memories of what actually went on there are too fuzzy to opine on. Lorelai to Charleston: I'm here to talk about this ridiculous accusation that Rory is a loner and that's somehow a bad thing. Oh come on, how is it ridiculous, your daughter is absolutely is a loner and an introvert and she only has one friend, one she's known since childhood, but yes, it's not necessarily a bad thing as long as she's happy. Lorelai: I raised Rory to do what she wants, as long as it doesn't hurt someone else.

#JusticeForLindsay Rory could have had a nice new friend in Lindsay... Unlike most Chilton parents, Lorelai has to take precious time off from work at a real job to meet with HMC to discuss a pressing matter involving her daughter, but HMC instead admonishes Lorelai for her lack of parental participation at the school and pressures her into joining some dopey club with a bunch of dopey Chilton Moms. Lorelai leaves the meeting. Rory was barely mentioned. Lorelai goes home to Rory and embellishes a lie/jokey joke about how hard she fought HMC in Rory's defense (she did no such thing, because she was barely given the chance to speak by HMC).

Two Slice Tuesday With A Side Of Fruit continues. Ugh, there's Francie (Francine?) in the back. Fuck. I did not care for this dumb mean-girls/Puffs storyline they had going through most of this season. Another one of The Agonies I'm not looking forward to.

This must be the fancy table, where nobody is partaking in Two Slice Tuesday.

I think the Chilton administration should look into more pressing issues, like why this high schooler is a 45 year old named Patricia.

#gilmore girls #rory gilmore #lorelai gilmore #Denise Rewatches Gilmore Girls #Gilmore Girls Season 2 #every gilmore girls high school extra is over 30 #they don't fuck around at Chilton and leave people back #like mother like daughter #white bread #prison lunch

[bumblesimagines]

Forgotten Fairytale

Part 3

Request: Yes or No

~

“We have two announcements today. First, we have a new student, (Y/N). As some of you may know, (Y/N) is a dragon-vampire hybrid and I expect each and everyone of you to treat him with respect. To whom it may concern, he is not our next monster. We’ve recently encountered a Night Hag.” Alaric announced to the remaining student body that had chosen not to leave. You kept your arms crossed, making eye contact with Hope. You gave her a triumphant smirk and got an eye roll in return.

“A Night Hag is a malevolent spirit trapped on the astral plane that can only interact with us through dreams. In this case, nightmares.” Alaric explained, murmurs spreading through the students. 

“So, like, Freddy Kruger?” 

“Well, in the sense that what happens to you in your dreams seems to happen to you in real life, yes. But, the good news is we’re safe, so long as we stay awake.” Alaric explained, nodding to the questions. He noticed tension rise and cleared his throat. 

“We’ve lined up more evacuation shuttles. They should be running all afternoon, so please, for those who don’t want to stay and fight, take advantage of them.” Alaric licked his lips. You gave a small snort, biting your bottom lip. Ryan had mentioned a possible run in with monsters but he seemed confident in your abilities to protect yourself. Once you had your father back, you’d make sure he faced some monsters of his own. You stood once Alaric dismissed everyone, noticing him motion for you to come over. With a deep sigh, you walked towards the stage he was on. 

“I’ve got your classes sorted out. You’ll be taking typical high school courses, plus some of the supernatural courses we typically give to everyone. You’ll have some vampire classes and finally, a one-on-one with Dorian to talk about dragons. Dorian insisted on it. I would like you to speak with Emma, she’s one of our teachers and also the counselor for those who need one.” Alaric explained, handing you a paper. You gave it a once over before looking up at him.

“And why would I need to speak with a counselor? I’m perfectly fine.” 

“Considering you walked out on Dorian after a mention of your father, I don’t think you’re fine.” Alaric gave a tight lipped smile, patting your arm as he walked by. You blew a raspberry, looking back down at the paper. 

“Oh, and by the way, these uniforms are horrendous.” You called to him, stepping off the stage and making brief eye contact with Hope as she spoke to Landon. 

“I have to agree with you on the uniforms being horrendous. We look like preppy golf kids.” You looked at the guy walking beside you. 

“All we’re missing are the pants and the golf course.” You grinned, chuckling as the guy nodded and laughed along. 

“I’m Kaleb, by the way. I’m a vampire, so I guess that means I’ll be seeing you around.” Kaleb gave a grin. You hummed, looking forward.

“Man, you and those other dudes got lucky. You don’t have to take these exams.”

“But, we do have to deal with the bullshit this school brings.” You stopped by a water fountain, leaning down and drinking from it. Kaleb leaned against the wall, arms crossing.

“Actually, I think that Landon guy was the one who brought the monsters with him. Things went to shit when he got here and-”

“It’s not Landons fault. The knife had been at this school for god knows how long.” You leaned up, wiping your mouth as your gaze fell on Rafael. 

“Well, like I said, we gotta deal with the bullshit the school brings.”

“And to do that, we have to be a team. We can’t insult or push each other away.” Rafael said, glancing between you and Kaleb. You let out a small snort, grinning as you shook your head. 

“Doesn’t that go against your nature? That’s all mutts know how to do. That and throw temper tantrums.” Kaleb snickered at your words. Rafael sighed, eyes shutting briefly in an attempt to stay calm and relaxed.

“You don’t have to worry about me, puppy. I can be a good teammate as long as you stay out of my way. Same goes for you.” You glanced at Kaleb before turning around and walking away. You walked to your first class, stepping inside and getting ready for a boring day of school.

~~~~~~~~~~

You ran your fingers over the books on the shelves, grabbing one and pulling it out of the shelf. You stepped out of the library and found a nice cushion seat, opening the book and flipping through the pages. You stopped on the one you had been looking for. 

Klaus Mikaelson: The Great Evil

Your eyes swept over the writing, searching for any mention of Hope. She was powerful but she hadn’t become a full tribrid yet. You paused, hearing footsteps coming from the hallway along with someone humming softly.

“Dr. Saltzman!”

“”Dr. Saltzman, I have changed my mind. I’ve decided to take you up on your offer and get the hell out with every other sane person here.””

“No, actually, I took your advice and I stayed busy, and I think I found something.” You lifted your head at Landon’s words, hearing their footsteps head back down the hall. You stood up from your seat, turning your head and watching them turn a corner. You looked down at the book in your hands, gently biting your bottom lip. 

“I definitely didn’t sign up for this… but I might as well enjoy the ride.” You looked back up, heading down the hall and entering the small library where Landon, Hope, and Alaric were at. You leaned against the railing, watching them speak.

“Why would a monster need to disguise itself as another monster? The Oneiroi sounds freaky enough.” Hope said, glancing between Landon and Alaric.

“Because if we knew what it actually was..”

“We’d know how to stop it.” Alaric finished for him, nodding. 

“Hope, kiss him for me.” Alaric said, turning and heading towards the stairs. He looked up, noticing you. He slowed down, head tilting.

“Need something, (Y/N)?” Alaric asked, heading up the stairs. You shook your head, fingers drumming against the book.

“Just eavesdropping.” You shrugged. Alaric let out a small laugh, nodding as he walked by.

“Don’t think you’re off my radar, (Y/N).” Hope called, arms crossing as she cocked a brow at you. 

“I’m honored you care so much about me, Red. It’s real sweet, though I think you should be more invested in your boytoy. Keep your eye on this one, Discount Jughead. She seems to have… a wandering eye. You shouldn’t forget who her mother was in love with.” You gave them a wink, turning around. You stepped towards a bookshelf, sliding the book into the shelf. 

“What about your family? What were they like?” Hope asked, approaching the stairs. You turned to look at her. 

“My mother gave my father a gift and then she left. At least she didn’t die because of me.” You leaned forward slightly as she got closer. Hope stopped a few feet from you, jaw clenching. 

“You know nothing about me.”

“I could say the same, Red. I might’ve been a dick when I was younger but atleast I never tried to kill someone who loves me and raised me. You had a mother who was invested in you and loved you. It would’ve never crossed my mind to hurt my father, no matter how pissed I was.” You sneered, watching her facade begin to crumble. Hope remained silent for a few passing minutes. 

“We should probably tell the others about our new discovery.” Landon piped up softly. Hope turned her head towards him, nodding.

“Yeah, I.. I have a plan.” Hope breathed out, looking back at you.

“Making enemies on your first day is the stupidest idea you’ve probably come up with.” Hope said, brushing past you. Landon slowly walked up the stairs, awkwardly approaching you.

“Hope is a.. She’s a good person-”

“You don’t have to defend her when she’s not around, My Chemical Romance.” You stared at him, giving a small eye roll. 

“Why are you such a dick?”

“Well, my dad told me my mom was a bit of a bitch. I probably got it from her.” You shrugged, turning around and leaving the library. You heard Landon catch up with you.

“I was in the foster system for most of my life. I can understand some of your feelings regarding not knowing your mom and-”

“Listen, Gerard Way, I’m not interested in being your friend. I’ve been taught and shown that humans are the least trustworthy creatures on this planet. It’s better to be alone than to trust a human. They’re like chihuahuas. They think they’re at the top when they’re actually at the bottom and I’d rather not have my life in the hands of one.” You looked at him.

“Fair comparison.” Landon mumbled. “But, some humans are good and they mean well-”

“We can have this conversation after I take a nap.” You entered the lounge area where Hope had gathered the rest of the boys. Hope explained that the Night Hag was actually an Oneiroi. 

“I know it sounds bad, but now that we know what the creature is, we can fight it.”

“How the hell are we supposed to kill a dream demon?”

“Leave that to me. But since I can’t fall asleep without compromising the location of the urn, I need someone else to pull it out of the dream plane and into our waking reality.” Hope explained, looking over everyone. 

“So, Freddy Krueger, like I said.” Another vampire, MG, pointed out.

“And how the hell are we supposed to do that?” Rafael asked, looking back at Hope.

“By entering the dream plane, getting a hold of it, and waking yourself up.” You answered, shrugging lightly.

“Just like in the movies.” MG nodded in agreement to your response. Kaleb hummed, nodding. 

“Is it too late to get on the evacuation bus?” Kaleb asked, tilting his head as you snorted. Hope gave a sympathetic look.

“No. I mean, I’m not gonna ask all of you to stay for this, it has to be your choice.” Hope said, silence following. Landon quickly stood up.

“I’m not leaving unless Hope does.” Landon said. Hope didn’t seem exactly thrilled as she gave a small hum. She looked at Rafael, brows raised in question.

“I’m not leaving Landon behind.” 

“You two are very codependent.” You mumbled, hearing Kaleb snicker and nod. 

“I’m a founding member of the Super Squad-”

“The fuck is a ‘Super Squad’?”

“-So I can’t bail.” MG stood up from his seat with a supporting smile. The four of them turned towards you and Kaleb.

“Y’all are gonna get yourselves killed.” Kaleb said, looking at Hope. 

“But if MG stays, I stay.” He added with a sigh, looking at you. 

“This reeks of drama and chaos so, I’m definitely staying and watching this go down.” You grinned, shrugging lightly. “But I’m not gonna be a member of this.. ‘Super Squad’ shit you have going on.” 

“In that case, it’s naptime.” Hope said, giving a small nod. 

“I’ll go speak with Dr. Saltzman. Get set up in the gym. Bring blankets, pillows, and anything else that might help you fall asleep.” Hope walked past them and Landon quickly followed. 

“Codependency is a big problem here, huh?” You shook your head, glancing at Kaleb. You grabbed one of the pillows off the couch and turned, heading towards the gym. You watched the others bring the necessary stuff, Hope and Landon entering while deep in what seemed like an argument. 

“You are gonna sleep with us, right?” Kaleb asked, noticing you hadn't made a small bed like they had.

“No.” You shook your head, arms crossing.

“What do you mean, no?” Landon frowned, brows furrowing.

“You don’t want to see me wake up from a nightmare. Accidental shifting and accidental arson isn’t pretty.” You shrugged lightly. Hope hummed.

“We don’t need a confused dragon causing an accident.” Hope looked at the rest of the guys. They lied down in a circle, slowly falling asleep one by one. Hope stepped towards you, closely watching each of them. 

“It was a shit move to bring up your mom. I’ve been on edge since dad disappeared.” You said quietly, ignoring the surprised look Hope gave you. 

“Sorry for that.” You walked away from her, careful to be quiet so as to not wake them up. You noticed each of the boys becoming more twitchy, faces contorted in confusion or fear as the hours began to pass. 

“How come you aren’t tired?” Hope asked softly. 

“You think I could sleep with my only family gone?” You looked at her with raised brows. Hope nodded, looking down to see that Rafael, MG, and Kaleb had stopped twitching as much.

“It’s almost time.” Hope turned, quickly leaving the gym. You gently toyed with your necklace, licking your lips and turning to face the boys when they all suddenly awoke. They stood and began talking all at once, making you huff in annoyance.

“Calm down, Hope’s handling it.” 

“What? What the hell-” Landon was cut off by Oneiroi and Hope crashing through one of the doors. Hope quickly got up, blowing some hair out of her face.

“Stay back, I got this.” She called, running forward and tackling the demon before promptly getting choked. 

“Yeah, she’s totally got this.” You mumbled, picking up two wooden pieces that had belonged to the now broken doors. You approached her, stabbing the pieces through the demons’ eyes. Hope let out a gasp for breath as the demon disappeared into a cloud.

“Thank you.” She coughed, rubbing her throat. 

“Next time, be prepared.” You stood, letting Landon help her up as Alaric rushed in with his crossbow. You tossed the wood aside, turning and walking past Alaric. You thought back on the urn and Hope mentioning she knew where it was. Befriending her to find it would be a problem in itself.

“(Y/N)!” Alaric called after you, quickly jogging after you. You turned to face him, raising a brow.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for helping Hope. How’d you know how to kill it?” Alaric asked.

“Like I said, dragons don’t just horde inanimate objects. I like to read as a pastime and most of the time, the books have to do with the supernatural.” You answered, shrugging lightly. Alaric nodded, reaching out and gently touching your arm.

“Thank you.. I’m sure Hope appreciates it.” Alaric gave a small smile. You nodded, licking your lips as Alaric turned and went to check on everyone. He passed by Hope who gave him a small smile and nod. She turned her head to look at you, arms gently wrapping around herself. She slowly approached you, gaze on the ground. 

“I know you could’ve just let me get hurt but.. Thank you for helping me. I know we got off on a terrible foot so, I hope we can be a bit more civil with each other.” 

“We’ll see.”

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x male!reader #legacies x reader #legacies #legacies x y/n #legacies x you #legacies x male reader #hope mikaelson #kaleb hawkins #milton greasley #landon kirby #alaric saltzman #rafael waithe #x dragon reader

[dickwheelie]

oh my god that list oh my god. “Are we really doing this? Are we really slow-dancing?” 🥺

“I mean, yeah,” Martin says, incredulous, as he puts an arm around Jon’s waist. “It’s our wedding, isn’t it?”

Jon rolls his eyes, but lets Martin slowly turn him in time to the music. “It’s hardy a wedding. A private ceremony isn’t a wedding. A marriage, yes, but--”

“But nothing. I’ve dreamed of slow dancing on my wedding night since I was a kid. If I have to do it in the privacy of my own home, to music on a speaker, on the living room carpet, then that’s how it’s going to be.” Martin sets his jaw stubbornly, and Jon knows there will be no arguing the matter. Not that he wants there to be; he’s quite happy letting Martin slowly spin him in place to a tinny waltz. He’d let Martin slowly spin him in an active volcano, he’s fairly sure.

“Since you were a kid, huh,” Jon says. “You didn’t mention that before.”

Martin leans back a bit to look him in the eye, and his expression is guilty. “Yeah. I, uh, I didn’t want to put any pressure on you. But I always kind of dreamed of a big wedding. Big to-do, with everyone in black and white, like you see in magazines, you know. And a huge reception, with a buffet and a big dance floor, and everyone toasting champagne--” Martin interrupts himself. “But of course what we ended up doing was perfect! I--I mean I knew you wanted something small and private, and it was lovely, Jon, it was. Just having our friends there, nice and low-key, it was nice. And I . . . I’m not here to marry a wedding planning book, I’m here to marry you. And I’m really glad I . . . got to . . .”

Martin’s voice peters out as he stares at Jon, confused. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Martin,” Jon says slowly, smoothing down a crease in Martin’s tuxedo, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“I--you wanted a small wedding, I didn’t want you to feel--”

“We could have compromised,” Jon says, reasonably. He holds up his left hand demonstratively, welcoming the excuse to show off the gold band that newly sits around his ring finger. He’s been staring at it all evening, turning it, touching it. It had been cold when he’d first put it on, but now it’s warmed to his skin, like it’s a part of him. “Married couples are supposed to compromise on things, I hear.”

“Yes, I know, but I didn’t want to make you feel obligated.”

“I wouldn’t have felt obligated.”

“How was I supposed to know that!”

“I don’t know!”

They stare at one another, still slowly turning.

At the same moment, they both break into laughter.

“Leave it to us,” Martin says as he calms down, “to have an argument about our wedding after it’s over.”

“And I thought we were so well-adjusted,” Jon deadpans.

Martin snorts. “Time to give that marriage counselor a ring, I guess.”

Jon takes Martin’s face in his hands and kisses him like the world is ending all over again. “God, I love you,” he mumbles into Martin’s shoulder as he pulls away.

“Yeah. I love you, too.”

“Let’s get married again,” Jon says, as Martin hugs Jon close and slowly starts to turn them again. “We’ll do it your way, this time. The hassle-filled and expensive way. I’ll wear a ballgown.”

Martin snorts. “You will not. Don’t lie to me, Jon Blackwood.”

“Alright, I’ll wear what I wore tonight. But I’ll waltz all over that dance floor with you, that I can promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that. For now, though,” Martin says, as the tinny violins play on, “for now, this is perfect.”

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #thank u anna!! #coulson-is-an-avenger #gwyneth writes #WHEW ok only one more request #will probably post that tomorrow

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

Chapter Two of Like Lovers Do

The fourth in a Rafael Barba/Reader/Frederick Chilton threesome verse written in collaboration with @pascalispretty . Mood board also by the lovely and talented @pascalispretty !! Yep. We did this. Was it necessary? No. Did we enjoy it? Sometimes. Are you going to read it? I sure hope you do and that you like it! Like all of the stories in this series, this can definitely be read as a standalone work. Cross posted on ao3!

Part Four of the series So Much Easier than You Realize

For @thatesqcrush 's Sexy and Smutty Summertime Bingo, fulfilling the Double Penetration square.

Chapter One: A Little Like Devotion Chapter Two: All Wound Up Chapter Three: Just So We're Even

Warnings: well porn, lol. sex: anal (f. receiving) and vaginal, double penetration, sass and snark, Fred being officious, kissing, dirty talk, fingering (vaginal and anal), safe sex practices, Rafa unable to help being a bit of a jackass but ultimately being a sweet nice boy Rating: Explicit. (porn, porn, porn) Word Count: 5429 Summary: Learning the value of compromise results in a very nice vacation and a few fantasies checked off of Fred and Rafa’s lists.

Rinsing your hair out, you give yourself more reasons to try this: it’s Fred’s fantasy and, after all, he'd listened when you and Rafa had told him it was absurd to fly to the Caribbean or a Pacific island for four just days. And he had driven the two of you for six hours just to get here. Maybe he deserves a reward.

Your mind made up, you’re careful to clean up for what you’re planning. Once you’re done, you step out of the shower and wrap yourself in one of the towels. Fred had given you another for your hair, but Benn has a hairdryer discarded on his countertop, so you use that.

One your hair is dry enough that it’s not dripping water everywhere, you perfunctorily towel yourself off before wrapping it back around you. By the time you get back to your room Fred and Rafa are curled up on the bed together, having made it halfway through dressing before taking a nap clearly proved a more tempting prospect.

“C’mere.” Rafa pats the sliver of mattress that they haven’t occupied, not even bothering to open his eyes or lift his head up. Instead, you make your way to the foot of the bed and let the towel fall to the floor. You turn your back to them to rifle through your suitcase for your own moisturizer, content to let them come to their own conclusions in their own time while you finish up.

You’re sitting on the end of the bed, just about to wipe off your hands on the towel you had dropped, when the leg you’d been sitting next to vanishes from the corner of your eye and you hear the comforter rustling and someone sitting up.

“You’re naked.”

“Thanks, I hadn’t noticed,” you tease Rafa, not deigning to look over your shoulder and smiling instead at the framed photograph of a city skyline hung on the opposite wall.

“You’ll catch your death with that wet hair you know; it’s not really spring yet,” Fred informs you in his ‘I went to medical school’ voice.

“See, I always thought that was a myth. I mean, germs don’t magically manifest themselves when your body temperature drops to a certain point, right? Unless I missed more of sophomore biology than I thought I did staring at the back of Ryan Jacobs’ head.” You do turn around to face them then, your smile widening at the scowl on Fred’s face.

“That’s not really what I meant, or how that works, actually--” Rafa covers Fred’s mouth with his hand and asks,

“Have plans to stay this way or were you just torturing us before you put on clean clothes?”

You frown, thinking, and shrug.

“Oh, I dunno. Depends on what better proposal I get, I suppose.” You smirk at Rafa. “Got anything for me, counselor?”

Rafa smoothes his face into a nonchalant expression of studied indifference. He sighs and offers,

“I guess I could be persuaded to fuck one or the other of you. Since you both look so bored. Honestly, I’d be doing you a favor putting some excitement into your monotonous lives…” He can’t hold back a smile any longer when Fred pushes his hand away and glares at him.

“I have a better proposition,” he tells you, kneeling up and reaching for your arm. You let yourself be tugged all the way onto the bed and crawl up the mattress between them, settling on your ankles and raising your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ll fuck you because it’s one of the things I want most in the world, always. I am constantly thinking about being between your legs with your warm cunt around my fingers. Or my tongue. Or my cock. Even watching Rafael fuck you would go miles towards saiting my desire to spend hours breaking you down piece by piece and see you shuddering on my bed.”

You stare at Fred, opened mouthed, having completely lost the thread of your plan for the rest of the night. Rafa clears his throat next to you.

“Uh, yeah, I think he might win this one,” he concedes, hand tracing chaotic patterns on the soft skin of your back. Fred dips down to kiss you but you back off.

“Mm, no, as much as I really love the sound of that…”

Fred sits back and raises an eyebrow at you.

“He conceded, I clearly won that contest,” he points out to you, arrogant to a fault.

“And it was gorgeous and an excellent suggestion,” you admit, trying not to smile at his pompous tone, knowing it would ruffle his sensitive feathers. “But I have a better one.” You lean a little closer to him, until your lips are brushing the shell of his ear. “I want you to fuck me. I want you both to fuck me. Wouldn’t you like that, Fred?” You feel the shiver that runs through him and back off a little.

“Tell me too,” Rafa grumbles, aiming a swat at your backside. You want to roll your eyes at him, but instead you give him a little smile.

“Fred asked me a little while ago how I’d feel about the two of you double teaming me. I was just wondering if he was still interested.” Rafa sits bolt upright, palming at a handful of your ass as he scans your face.

“I’m interested.” Rafa digs his fingers in a little harder. “I’m very interested.” Fred runs his hand along your side almost appraisingly.

“Do you have any preference as to who goes where?” Instead of waiting for a reply, he dips his head down to press kisses over your breasts.

“I’ll let you decide that one, Fred. As a reward for bringing us here.” You comb your fingers through the hair at the back of his head, a thoughtful hum vibrating against your skin as Fred ponders your question.

“I want to be able to see your face,” he murmurs against your breasts as his hand slides between your legs. “I want you to keep my cock warm for me while Rafa stretches you out, want to be able to feel him pushing into your ass.” His thumb finds your clit and traces a circle around it. “Can I? Will you let me?”

“God, yes.” You sound breathless already as Fred rolls your clit under his thumb, and you clutch at his shoulders.

“Get the lube, will you Rafael?” Fred manages before he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and dragging his teeth carefully across the sensitive flesh. You whine, gripping tightly at the tee shirt he’d put on after his shower and trying to pull it over his head. He lets you tug it off him and immediately reaches for you again, sliding a finger inside of you to work in concert with the thumb on your clit. You dig your fingers into his hair as he plays with your cunt, his teeth still brushing your nipple as he licks and sucks.

You open your eyes to see Rafa, fantastic ass on display in those tight boxer briefs he loves, bent over Fred’s bag rifling through clothes and sundries before finally standing with a soft “ah-ha!” His skin glows in the late afternoon sun streaming through the window behind him and you shiver and smile, running your fingers through the soft dark strands on Fred’s head, content and excited, and still a little surprised with these two beautiful men of yours.

Rafa catches you looking and stops, standing in the warm spot in front of the window, his back to the breathtaking view of the ocean offered by this back bedroom, and he smiles softly at you.

“You are breathtaking like this,” he informs you wonderingly, sunlight turning his dark hair into a golden halo around his head. “The both of you.”

“You aren’t so bad looking yourself,” you pant, fighting to keep your eyes open and your knees underneath you as Fred’s fingers unerringly find every spot inside of you that makes you want to roll over and beg.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Fred grumps, lifting his head from your breast just long enough to find the other one.

“Don’t tempt me,” Rafa mutters, still staring and luxuriating in the warm sunlight on his bare skin, smiling at the two of you. You feel Fred jerk against you and he bites down a little harder on the skin around your nipple. Rafa winks at you and abandons his sunning spot to come back to the bed with the lube in one hand and the other palming lightly at his cock.

“How do you want us, Fred?” he asks, climbing onto the bed next to the psychiatrist and slapping his ass companionably before leaning over him and kissing you deeply. You moan a little into the kiss, trying to take a deep breath through your nose as Rafa’s tongue licks past your lips into your mouth. Fred lets go of your nipple with a soft wet sound and stays there, panting, with his face resting on your breasts as the two of you kiss above him. His fingers still in your cunt for a moment and he wraps his free arm around your waist, hugging you closer to the warm bulk of him.

“Why don’t I lie back against the pillows, and you can lie on top of me? Rafa should be able to touch you like that,” Fred murmurs against your breasts, rolling his thumb over your clit again. “How does that sound, sweetheart?” He moves his fingers a little faster, and you sag against him as he presses against that spot inside of you.

He makes you come almost embarrassingly quickly, your face buried in the crook of his neck as the wave of your climax washes over you, radiating out from your centre until your toes curl and your fingers clutch a little harder at Fred’s back.

“Good girl.” Fred is gentle as he moves his hand from between your legs and shifts backwards, taking you with him as he leans back against the pillows. “Isn’t she, Rafael?”

“Our sweet, perfect girl.” Rafa, his cock half hard against your backside, runs his fingers down your spine as you settle yourself over Fred. His fingers slide lower, moving until they’re just under your thighs. “Kneel up for a moment while I get these off Fred.”

You do as you’re told, glancing down to see that Rafa has stripped his own off at some point, and you smile to yourself when you feel Rafa press a kiss to the nape of your neck. Fred runs his fingertips gently up your thighs and along your ribcage, stopping when he gets to the undersides of your breasts.

“Rafa’s right.” Fred shifts underneath you as Rafa eases his underwear off. “You’re such a sweet girl.” He pulls you in for a kiss, his fingertips still brushing gently up and down your sides in rhythmic patterns that make you sigh against his soft lips.

When you settle back against him, you can feel his hard cock pressing against your cunt. You give an experimental flick of your hips and shudder when his length slides against your sensitive clit.

“God, I could watch you slide that cunt along his cock all fucking day,” Rafa groans behind you, giving your ass a quick smack. You do it again, only for Fred to lean back with a smile on his face.

“Enjoying yourself there?” Fred rocks his hips a little under you, letting you relish in the drag of his cock against your cunt. He looks so handsome underneath you in the soft afternoon light, and you lean down to kiss him again in lieu of answering.

You feel Rafael wrap his hands around your hips, his fingers pressing against the old bruises that are littered there, and you hum contentedly. He lifts you up a little and Fred wraps his fingers around his cock to guide it to your entrance.

Rafa controls your movements, letting you sink down slowly onto Fred’s cock. You groan as Fred splits you open, your nails digging lightly into his chest once he’s finally buried to the hilt. Fred pulls you down until you’re lying on top of him, your head tucked under his chin.

It’s not the first time you and Fred have done this; you’ve taken naps with him like this on more than one occasion, his cock inside of you while you sleep against his warm bulk. Rafael palming at your backside while you lie like that is a new feeling, however, and you whine as his fingers dig into your flesh.

“God, you’re so warm and wet and perfect,” Fred mumbles against the top of your head. “Why didn’t we get tested sooner?” You have to agree, the feeling of him inside of you with no barrier only makes you feel closer to him, makes the position feel more intimate.

“You sure, sweet girl?” Rafa asks, sitting back to watch as his big warm hands pull your cheeks apart, giving him the perfect view of your cunt stretched around Fred’s cock and the tight spot he’ll soon be pushing into. You tremble at the cool air against you and the thought of Rafa staring at you there and grip Fred a little harder. You nod your head, your cheek rasping against the hair on Fred’s chest.

“I’m so sure, Raf, please.” Freds hands are stroking up and down your spine gently and you feel his every breath underneath you. With the sunlight streaming in through the big windows of his bedroom the two of you could be taking another one of your naps with each other. Rafael just sits there behind you, hands kneading your ass, watching for a few more minutes before he does anything, and even that--Rafael unable to not touch, not fidget with some part of you or Fred--isn’t anything entirely new.

You’re so relaxed on top of Fred that you don’t hear Rafa open the bottle, but you definitely feel the cold shock of the lube as he drizzles some between your cheeks. You jump and swear, shuddering as you feel it drip down over where you and Fred are connected and then moan softly and shift around on top of him as you feel Rafa’s finger drag up from your cunt to rest over your hole.

“So responsive,” he murmurs, not even trying to conceal the smugness in his voice. You want to respond, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of having the last word, but then he starts to circle his finger--feather light and tantalizing--and you can’t do anything but whine breathily, turning your face to bury more fully against Fred’s warm chest.

“Shhh,” Rafa soothes, finger pressing no harder as he circles and strokes. No matter how many times you do this with the two of them it still feels like… like something forbidden. Wrong, secret, and so so good.

You hear the deep rumbling purr of Fred groaning under your ear when you clench around his cock as Rafa pushes a questing, experimental fingertip inside of you and that only encourages the hot feeling low in your core. Rafa leaves his finger there, the rest of his hand just resting on your skin, and lets you breathe for a minute, getting used to the stretch. It doesn’t feel that much different from when they do this normally, but you know as soon as he gets it in further…

Fred breathes steadily under you and Rafa’s finger pushes in ever so slightly more when he leans forward to place a soft gentle kiss to your ass cheek. Your pleased hum quickly turns into a yelp when he is unable to resist taking a quick hard bite, and you feel the smile on his face against your skin before he pulls back, taking his finger with him.

“What would you say to teeth shaped bruises right on your ass?” he asks speculatively, finger circling your hole once more, another finger swiping up some more of the lube to bring it closer.

“Rafael, really?” Fred asks from beneath you, and you can practically hear his eyes rolling. “Why don’t you just tattoo your name there while you’re at it?”

The hitch in Rafa’s breathing is the only warning you get before his entire finger suddenly pushes into you.

“Fuck--” you both groan simultaneously.

“Fred, Christ, not the time to say things like that,” Rafa admonishes, a little out of breath as you squeeze around his finger, whining and breathing hard.

Now it feels different. Whereas you normally feel just a little full, with his finger in you along with Fred’s cock you feel so stuffed that it’s a little hard to breathe. You can nearly feel one or the other--or hell, maybe it’s both—of them in the back of your throat and you were not expecting it to be quite like this.

Rafael’s fingers are big, but god, this is still just only one finger.

“Too much?” Rafael asks.

You take half a minute to answer him, feeling every line and ridge of his knuckle and suddenly feeling even more of Fred’s cock in your cunt. Eventually you decide that this is fine, you can do this, and you nod decisively.

“No, I like it. Keep going.”

Rafa shifts on the bed, finger still inside you and wiggles it a little. You gasp and dig your nails into Fred’s sides, causing him to hiss and curse quietly. Rafa pulls his finger slowly out of you and you feel the cold drip of more lube against your skin before he presses two fingers to you again. You stiffen on top of Fred and Rafa grumbles deep in his chest, words inarticulate, and pets your ass with his free hand.

“Shh, no, relax darling, that’s it,” Fred praises quietly, fingers kneading the muscles of your back till you melt on top of him. Rafa gently presses the tips of both fingers against you and pushes in again, humming when you whine as they slide in.

“God, Fred. I swear I can feel you through her.” Rafa curls his fingers just a little inside of you, angling them downwards. You shiver on top of Fred, Rafa’s words making something that already feels forbidden downright taboo. He works you open with his fingers, his free hand gripping your hip tightly.

“Good, sweet girl. Are you going to let Rafa give you another?” Fred pets at your hair gently, kissing your head when you can only manage a whine. “Sit up a little for me, I want to see your face.” It takes you a moment to oblige; every time you shift, Fred and Rafa are jostled inside of you, the barest movement sending sparks shooting in your core. You manage to prop yourself up on your hands even as your arms shake.

Fred moves his hands to help, wrapping them around your waist to support you as you try to hold yourself up. You feel Rafa drip more lube over you and you hiss.

“All green, sweetheart?” he asks, the tip of his ring finger pressing against you. You nod but you know he will settle for nothing less than verbal confirmation.

“Green, Raf, just--just slowly.” You know it’s an unnecessary addition; you’re hardly being rushed as it is, but he always likes and asks for clear boundaries. When he starts to press the tip of his third finger against you, you have trouble relaxing at first; you clutch at the sheets and clamp down on Fred and Rafa.

You wail when his finger finally pops past that tight ring of muscle to join his other two, your eyes closing so tightly that your face hurts. He stills immediately, and when you manage to force your eyes open again Fred is looking up at you with concern.

“Green, green, ‘m fine. Just so full.” You’ve never felt like this before. It’s overwhelming, like Fred and Rafa are the only things holding you together and the things that are trying to tear you apart. Experimentally you rock your hips, and nearly headbutt Fred as your arms give out, all of your other muscles going slack so that the ones in your core can tighten.

“God, Rafa, if you thought she was tight before--” Fred manages, sounding more than a little breathless as his hands clutch at your back. Rafa shuffles a little closer to you, his cock hard against the back of your thigh as he patiently works you open. You’re only capable of soft whines and little whimpers as he drizzles more lube over his fingers to push inside of you. When he’s satisfied that you’re thoroughly stretched and prepared, Rafa leans his head down to murmur to you.

“Can I, sweet girl? You ready for my cock?” he coos, mouthing along your neck. You nod frantically, gasping when Rafa wraps his free hand around your shoulder and tugs you gently back.

“Fred, can you…?” he asks, and Fred quickly moves one of his hands to your hip and the other to your shoulder, pushing gently to help hold you up enough that he can see your face. You look down at him as you balance your weight on your arms and watch the muscles in his flex. He smiles softly at you.

Rafa lets go of your shoulder and you hear more lube come out of the bottle, and you feel his arm move behind you and hear the wet noise it makes as he spreads it along the length of his cock, stroking a few times and groaning softly.

“Rafael, really, now is not the time,” Fred admonishes, and you grin at the scolding.

“I don’t tell you how to fuck someone, I’d appreciate it if you’d extend me the same courtesy,” the lawyer grouches from behind you, shuffling closer. You feel the blunt head of his cock, slippery with probably too much lube, bump against you.

“Color,” he orders, voice deep in your ear and going straight to the tight, boiling place where Fred is seated deep inside you.

“Green,” you reply quietly, feeling more than a small flutter of nerves in your stomach. You relax your fingers in the sheets just long enough to bunch more of the expensive cotton between them and grip hard again.

“Relax. Breathe out.”

And Rafa takes his cock in his hand and pushes gently at you, holding his breath as the head slides achingly slowly inside of you until it finally passes the tense muscles and settles.

There should have been a pop or something, you think hysterically, not breathing and trying not to panic. Like in a cartoon. This deserves a sound effect if anything ever fucking did.

“Take a breath, breathe,” Rafa growls, closer to you now, holding still, and radiating heat against your back. Has he always been this warm?

“Dear fucking god,” Fred croaks underneath you. “Rafa, Rafa, Rafa…”

“Fred, color?” Rafa sounds like he’s barely hanging on himself and you still can’t take more than tiny, gasping breaths, your thoughts flying all over the place

What does the word full even mean?

“Green,” Fred replies, quickly. “I think.”

“You think or you know?” Rafa starts to pull back and you cry out. He stops moving again.

“Wait, yellow, hold still,” you pant, finding the words buried deep inside some part of your brain that you’d managed to forget existed in the past fifteen seconds.

All three of you stop moving, and stay there panting and connected. Words are slowly coming back to you the longer you’re able to convince your lungs to inflate to their entire capacities and yet you still couldn’t describe what you’re feeling right now if someone held a gun to your head.

“Green,” you finally manage. Fred takes a deep breath under you and echoes that same color. Rafa pulls back until he’s nearly all the way out of you and pauses again.

“Take another breath and let it out. Fred, you’re going to draw blood if you don’t readjust your grip on her.” You look down, careful not to jostle either of them, and see Fred’s short nails digging into the skin over your hip. Any pain there hasn’t really registered yet, but he moves his fingers anyways, careful as always.

“Look at me, sugar,” he requests tenderly. The green of his eyes is soft. Soft and gentle like the water of the lake you grew up next to as the water got shallower near the shore. It’s heartbreaking, the way he looks at you sometimes.

“You’re amazing,” he states matter of factly and you can feel yourself blush. You drop your eyes to his collarbone and he tuts at you.

“Let me see you.”

Rafa pushes his cock back in so slowly, first the head, and finally a couple more inches of the shaft and you whine, gripping Fred’s sheets, holding his eyes, sure that you’re going to implode, fall apart like an improperly cared for building.

“Breathe,” Rafa repeats and you feel your heart fluttering about as fast as a bird’s.

It’s so goddamn much.

“Fred, I can feel your fucking cock against mine and it’s just...'' Rafa trails off and squeezes your shoulder urgently, clearly wanting to pace the three of you and starting to have some difficulties.

You and me both pal, you think to yourself and can’t decide if you want to laugh or cry.

Naturally you do both.

“Green,” you whimper preemptively, seeing the frown on Fred’s strained face. “Green, green, green--God, Fred, your eyes are beautiful,” you babble, embarrassingly, hoping neither of them remember that later.

Rafa grunts and pulls back, shuddering. Fred looks up at you, overwrought.

You feel more lube dripped down between your cheeks and over your hole and Rafa praises,

“Oh, my darling, precious, lovely girl, you’re doing so, fucking well.” He pants for a few seconds, resting his head between your shoulder blades. “Once more for me, can you do it? Are we still green?”

You nod fast and deliberately relax, staring into Fred’s eyes and seeing that water again. Remembering it hit the breakwall over… and over… and over, hearing that soft lapping sound...

Rafa moves forward again and finally, he’s seated all the way inside of you, only a thin wall separating his cock from Fred’s.

The first time you went on a rollercoaster you thought you were having a heart attack. The thrill of the view from the top would have been enough of an experience to make the day worthwhile, but then you plummeted almost all the way back down. Through the rush of adrenaline in your blood and the way that gravity conspired with acceleration to make it feel like you were flying out of your seat the most all encompassing thing you perceived was breathlessness. It was like for ten seconds a huge hand came along and simultaneously held you down and reached into your throat to constrict every organ in your body. You felt the air leave your lungs at the same time that you were sure you’d never feel something as amazing.

This was like that all over again. You feel the same weightless, gravity defying acceleration breathlessness with their cocks inside you and it is glorious.

“God, you were right, Fred,” Rafa pants, his breath hot between your shoulder blades. “Why didn’t we ditch condoms sooner? Fuck, the way the two of you feel--” he cuts himself off, mouthing kisses against your skin instead.

You’re aware that you’re shaking in between them, but you don’t have the wherewithal to stop. It’s like they’re cracking you open all the way up to your ribs, your every nerve ending feeling exposed and raw as they do nothing more than lie there and breathe with you.

After a long moment, Rafa gives the smallest, experimental flick of his hips. Loud groans rip out of the three of you in unison, the sounds melting together in the humid air. When he does it again, you cling helplessly to Fred and bury your face against his shoulder.

“Such a good girl--” Rafa croons, his weight shifting off your back as he moves to kneel behind you instead. You let out a juddering moan as his movement shifts his cock inside of you, and you feel his hand splay against your lower back.

“How does she look, Raf?” Fred asks, rocking his hips ever so subtly underneath you now that he no longer has Rafa’s weight holding him down. Your breath hitches; the two of them are barely moving, but you feel like you could come from the barest touch from either of them.

“God, Fred, she looks perfect,” Rafa grunts, wrapping his hands around your waist. With Fred holding your hips, the two of them are able to move you between them, their hips moving in concert with their hands as they reach for their own resolutions. You feel like you’re being pushed and pulled between them, and it’s delicious.

You continue to rest your head on Fred’s chest, not sure you have the willpower or energy to move it anyways, and every moan that rumbles up through his chest vibrates against your skin.

They have your complete and undivided attention, you can’t think of anything besides this feeling, how sturdy Fred is beneath you, how solid Rafa is behind, even if you had wanted to. Every inch of your skin feels electrified, and you’ve never felt closer to them. You can only manage choked out moans and little whimpers; you’re beyond anything coherent. The world has shrunk to the size of the bed, to the two men with you, and they’re all you’re aware of.

Neither of them last long; it’s all too new, and the way that Rafa fucks a little more desperately into you before he comes sends Fred hurtling over the edge as well. The two of them clutch at you, hands hanging on bruisingly tight, as they come with low groans and a few mumbled “fucks” from Rafa.

The three of you stay still for a long moment, all trying to catch your breath before you attempt to untangle yourselves. Fred moves his hands from your hips to wrap his arms around you and hug you close, nuzzling against the top of your head.

“Fuck, Fred--” Rafa eventually mumbles from behind you, starting to slowly and carefully ease his way out of you. “Inspired suggestion. And you, sweet girl, so amazing, you did so well--” It’s borderline incoherency from Rafa as he murmurs to you, a sign of just how dazed he is--how stunned all three of you are. You and Fred can’t even reply and just lay there.

It feels strange once Rafa is no longer inside of you. You whine at the sudden emptiness and at the feeling of excess lube and Rafa’s come trickling out of you and hitting your overstimulated cunt. You can hear him moving around, but you don’t even have the energy to turn your head.

Something is laid out on the bed beside you and the mattress dips as Rafa sits.

“Help me out here, Fred.” You open your eyes blearily to realize that Rafa has laid a towel out beside you and has a washcloth in one hand. He notices you looking and smiles.

“I think Fred would have a conniption fit if his parents’ housekeeper found lube and come stains on his bedding,” he whispers sotto voce, and Fred is too tired to even bother arguing back. Instead he slowly eases his way out of you, Rafa helping him to turn you on your back beside them. You know, even without looking down, that you must look like a mess; you feel almost uncomfortably wet and you’re glad for Rafa’s foresight.

You let your eyes close as one of them carefully cleans you off. They really do take such good care of me, you think sleepily as one of them lifts your hips in order to slide the towel out and slip you under the sheets.

“That was--you were incredible, honey.” Fred kisses your closed eyelids as he climbs into bed beside you. “Are you okay? Do you need anything? Did you like it?”

“Can we talk about it later? I just wanna sleep,” you mumble, sighing happily when Rafa presses against your other side and sandwiching you between them.

“Of course, sweet girl. We’ve got you.”

#rafael barba x frederick chilton #rafael barba x frederick chilton x reader #rafael barba x reader #frederick chilton x reader #frederick chilton #rafael barba #hannibal #law and order svu #fanfic #fanfiction #thatesqcrushsummerbingo

[belit0]

Anonymous:

Let's start asking the real questions. What would drive them to cheat/leave on their s/o for someone else? Uchihas specifically.

We are getting kinda dark, huh? I love it.

Indra

As for cheating you… this man is deeply loyal, even if he looks like it. If he loves you, he wouldn’t put you through any kind of betrayal as his own traumatic experiences haunt him for life. So, I think the only reason he would cheat on you would be for revenge. If you hurt him, he would strike you in this cynical way, because killing you is an easy escape from the sentence you have to receive.

About abandoning you, he will easily do it if you become a burden in his plans. Indra needs a person with the same appetite and thirst for blood as he does, if you suddenly lack that for any reason, he will find it hard to leave you behind, but he will do it for the sake of his mission.

Madara

On deceit, and adding to the equation the intensity and level of love this Uchiha feels for those who are important to him, I believe he would be found in this situation only because it is necessary. A mission where he must earn another person to get what he needs and he can’t necessarily use violence, for example.

Leaving you is another story. If you suddenly put yourself in a compromising position, attempt to hurt his feelings, stop giving him what he needs or wants, Madara has no problem walking away from you, even if it hurts, because he knows what is best for him.

Izuna

Although I ideally believe that this man would not cheat anyone, I don’t suppose he would. Izuna knows how beautiful he is, and is aware of the people after him competing for his attention. If he suddenly got bored of you, no longer finds you interesting, lost the fire he felt next to you, he would easily fall into someone else’s arms. He has the maturity of a child in sentimental matters.

As for abandoning you, again, he would do it if you bored him, or he would leave you for someone else. If he filled your place with the presence of another individual, he would have no problem moving on, because inside all of Izuna is quite cold to people, except for his big brother.

Obito

I ONLY SEE ONE POSSIBLE OPTION FOR THIS MAN TO CHEAT ON YOU, and that is if Rin comes back into his life for any reason. Obito is too tender and kind, but we all know that he is still tied to his first love without any remedy.

Be ready to say goodbye to him when Edo-Tensei Rin crosses the door of your house without explanation because this Uchiha has his bags ready and he is prepared to take up again the point where he stayed with his teammate. Don’t tell me you didn’t see it coming.

Shisui

Since Shisui had no one to guide him emotionally, and the best counselor he had was Itachi, who was even younger than him, he doesn’t really understand how couples or love work. So it is likely that he will get involved with someone else, but without even doing it on purpose. He didn’t understand that your proposal to “ date ” was to be an official pair for once.

As far as abandoning you, this Uchiha has no time for drama or for superficial issues. He has really important things to do with respect to the clan and the village, so if you become a nuisance in his daily life with matters that he considers illogical, say goodbye to this guy

#otsutsuki indra #madara uchiha #izuna uchiha #obito uchiha #shisui uchiha #indra otsutsuki x reader #madara uchiha x reader #izuna uchiha x reader #obito uchiha x reader #shisui uchiha x reader

[kiranxrys]

Alone Together Episode 1 Transcript - Alexander Siddig & Andrew Robinson

I hadn’t seen a transcript for this episode going around on Tumblr yet and I thought I would quickly make one to share with anyone who would prefer to read or wants to read along/revisit the first episode in text form (and the YouTube subtitles are mostly useless, annoyingly). Please let me know if you think I’ve made an error anywhere and I’ll amend it!

watch: one | two | three | four

read: two | three | four

ANNOUNCER (ON-SCREEN): ‘Alone Together’ - a DS9 companion, Episode 1 - ‘These Days’. It has been about 25 years since the Dominion War ended. The Federation isn’t quite the same. Starfleet is much more consistently militarized these days. Earth may be paradise, but humanity is less ideologically empathetic. Since the recent Romulan attempts to extinguish synthetic life by infiltrating Starfleet Command, benevolence is taking a backseat to security these days. 

Elim Garak has been Castellan of the Cardassian Assembly since the new order was established following the Dominion War. Garak, of course, also has direct control over a newly resurrected Obsidian Order, though not by title. 

Julian Bashir is still a doctor on Deep Space 9 but is also coordinating the activities of Section 31. What we’ve learned is that upon sharing a consciousness with Luther Sloane using stolen Romulan technology, his genetically enhanced brain committed much of what he learned to his eidetic memory. That information had to be contained but could be put to good use. He was given little choice in the matter. Maintaining his cover as a Chief Medical Officer in the Bajoran sector met his needs, and he saw no reason to change.

[fade to black]

JULIAN BASHIR (VOICE ONLY): Mission log, stardate 737114. I’m approaching Cardassia Prime in response to a rather enigmatic request for medical aid from Castellan Garak, the leader of the Cardassian government. Though it’s hardly surprising that Garak might be withholding information, it seems that a reunion of sorts will be forthcoming. I’ve left the Infirmary in the capable hands of Doctor Jabara while I’m off the station. I must admit, I’m not entirely sure what to expect. 

JULIAN (ON-SCREEN): Bashir to Central Command, I’ve just entered orbit of Cardassia Prime, requesting approval to transport to Cardassia.

ELIM GARAK (VOICE ONLY): Stand by, Doctor. Don’t be in such a hurry.

JULIAN: Garak. I didn’t expect you to be at the Central Command, it’s good to hear your voice.

GARAK: My dear doctor, are we starting the lies already?

JULIAN (LAUGHING): It’s true, Garak. It’s good to hear your voice! That’s not a- Look, more importantly, if you’ll grant approval I can beam to your current location.

GARAK: Doctor, I’m not at Central Command. I’ve merely intercepted your subspace communications link. Unfortunately, Doctor, the Federation will not be setting foot on Cardassia today, and, to be quite honest, you don’t want to be here.

JULIAN: Garak, your message suggested some urgency in my arrival. Quite frankly, what the hell am I doing here if I can’t beam down?

GARAK: Would you uh- [laughs] believe pure, unadulterated nostalgia?

JULIAN: Would you?

GARAK (ON-SCREEN): [laughs] I missed you too Doctor. So, how is life on the station?

JULIAN: Well, Bajoran fashions just aren’t the same since you left.

GARAK: I’m sure.

JULIAN: But much of life has returned to what it once was, as much as it ever could, I suppose. Now-

GARAK: I was sorry to hear about Dax.

JULIAN: Thank you. I um… I miss Ezri every day. Ten years. I, well, that is- we, Dax and I, we tried to make it work. I- I was so happy Dax made it back to Trill on time. Cairn and I, we were very different people. He’s a botanist – can you imagine? Dax as a botanist. I suppose it’s why Keiko didn’t seem to mind my business as much. She and Dax had so much to talk about but, well, once the Symbiosis Commission discovered our continued relationship, well, we just uh- we couldn’t-

GARAK: Doctor, there’s no need to explain.

JULIAN: No. Dax always encouraged me to talk about my feelings, though there’s not much else to say, really. I had never really considered being in love with another man, but it was Dax. Ezri, Jadzia, even Cairn, it was Dax, is Dax. But we- we just couldn’t- I didn’t-

GARAK: It is difficult to find a good counselor to sort out our deepest sorrows these days.

JULIAN: I suppose it is.

GARAK: You’re an honourable man, Doctor. You loved Dax, you could do nothing less than your heart demanded. I know the pain of love all too well, especially a love that has everything working against it.

JULIAN: Ziyal.

GARAK: Ziyal, yes. Yes, even exiles have hearts, Doctor. Even [laughs] Elim Garak. When it comes right down to it, he has a heart as well. In fact, my heart is partially the reason why I’m here.

JULIAN: So, this is a house call? Damn it, Garak, why didn’t you tell me on subspace? What- what are your symptoms? Why don’t you want me to beam down?

GARAK: Well, so many questions, one hardly knows which to answer first.

JULIAN: Your symptoms, Garak. What is wrong with your heart?

GARAK: Well, it’s not just my heart, Doctor. Actually the most concerning symptom seems to be a degenerative condition that causes the ill to be especially susceptible to suggestion. Luckily my infection is relatively new, and rather unexplained as my exposure to the public tends to be limited to state functions and the like, you know, the life of a politician.

JULIAN: The ill? Garak, what are you saying?

GARAK: A virus, Doctor. Cardassia appears to be facing a- a minor health issue. We’re trying to contain the infection to one region, but we may have moved… far too late.

JULIAN: A minor health issue? You are a champion of understatement! ‘The ill’ suggests that this isn’t just about you but your ability to hide the facts seems to have been tainted over the years.

GARAK: Doctor?

JULIAN: Since your speech at the Lakarian City memorial, the ridges on your neck have grown paler and your breathing rate has increased.

GARAK: You liked my speech?

JULIAN: Damn it, Garak, you contacted me! How is this the first time that I’m hearing about this? Why is the planet not being quarantined? Your message said ‘medical aid’ – I assumed that I was just coming here as a preliminary consultation having something to do with one of your colonies. Now it sounds like an outbreak that needs to be contained.

GARAK: Doctor, quarantine means announcing the problem to the galaxy. This is an internal matter. You obviously don’t appreciate the severity of this virus, but you needn’t worry – no one is allowed to leave Cardassia, no one is currently being permitted to enter the atmosphere.

JULIAN: I cannot imagine you can contain the population without a reason. Just how bad is it?

GARAK: Oh, I’ve given them a reason, Doctor, but you shouldn’t worry about that. There are more important things requiring your focus right now.

JULIAN: Of course. How much- how many are infected?

GARAK: At last count, the virus had been contained to three continents. Nearly 68% of the population in those regions has been infected.

JULIAN: And you call it a ‘minor issue’ Garak?! That’s a pandemic!

GARAK: Doctor, when I say that the ill have developed a degenerative condition, I speak specifically of their thought processes. It is true that we have determined that it is a virus – a biological contaminant of sorts – but the Central Command is hardly a healthcare organization and while the degeneration is affecting the cardiopulmonary system as well, all of the symptoms seem to be driven by misfiring neurons, and therein lies the problem.

JULIAN: A virus that affects the brain is no small problem. The fact that early infections are showing in terms of dysfunction relatively mild systems doesn’t mean people won’t start to die.

GARAK: Yes, Doctor. And I haven’t.

JULIAN: My God, Garak. You’re infected.

GARAK: Why do you think I contacted you? I want the best.

JULIAN: And hoping that my genetic enhancements will allow me to diagnose your symptoms without scanning equipment?  

GARAK: I really have missed your mistrust, Doctor. The physicians here have the tendency to avoid the necessary dispassion for harder truths. You, however, have a refreshingly forthright bedside manner.

JULIAN: Wow, a compliment. You must be neurologically compromised. Well of course, of course I’ll do everything that I can. Do you know anything more about the virus? How is it passed on? How does it proliferate in the body? Have your doctors attempted any therapies that show any promise?

GARAK: Well, it seems to take several days to propagate in the carrier. During that time, sufferers develop a rather serious cough... [inaudible] …the dispatcher reaches the brain so our assumption it that it is spread through the air. Most hospitals have been closed to all but the infected to try and control the outbreak. As a result, our doctors are learning from their patients as they are treating them. As it stands now, they can only treat symptoms. Medical staff is reporting to external bodies to ensure that anyone studying the infection isn’t also battling a neurological disease. Progress is limited and all too slow.

JULIAN: Garak, I’m not sure how I can help you if I can’t examine you or access your data.

GARAK: Doctor, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to put yourself at risk. After all, I’m counting on you to save us all. And I believe that an outside perspective may be exactly what we need.

JULIAN: So no pressure?

GARAK: You’re a bright man, Doctor – put that genetically-enhanced brain of yours to work.

JULIAN: Well, I can’t examine you from orbit. My shuttlecraft sensors may be able to me that you’re alive, they can isolate you for transport, but they can hardly determine more than the most modest of life signs, and while I can see outward symptoms, Garak, I can’t for the life of me figure out how to see through your skull. I suppose I could transport a tricorder down there for a preliminary scan.

GARAK: I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Doctor.

JULIAN: Oh, of course you can’t. Can you send me your most recent medical scans?

GARAK: Unfortunately, no.

JULIAN: And why not?

GARAK: All of my genuine medical records are routinely deleted and replaced with falsified data. All data rods in which those records once existed have been destroyed, all computers in which the data rods were placed have been vaporized. My dear doctor, I’m the leader of the Cardassian people! Especially now, I can’t afford to broadcast my weaknesses to all, to anyone who feels they could exploit them.

JULIAN: The more things change, the more they remain the same.

GARAK: Meaning?

JULIAN: A presumption of godliness, most certainly a great paranoia. You haven’t managed to find yourself a staff that you trust to protect your life. To be quite honest, I’m surprised your staff doesn’t have implants that allow you to control them.

GARAK: Oh, Doctor, your assumptions hurt me deeply! Of course they do. If news of this infection gets out, and I can’t be clearer than this, Cardassia will be devastated. And we won’t be the only world that will fall.

JULIAN: Garak, you seem to believe that I can cure this virus from orbit, without any information.

GARAK: Well, Doctor, this virus doesn’t only infect the average citizen. Everyone is at risk. Everyone – the government, the military. Imagine if only a few of their people were infected. They find it difficult to concentrate. They’re finding themselves susceptible to suggestion. And what if intelligence agents of foreign governments found their way to Cardassia during this crisis?

JULIAN: It could destroy the Cardassia you’ve been rebuilding for over two decades.

GARAK: Yes.

JULIAN: But quarantine would keep foreign nationals off-planet and keep the rest of us safe from infection, assuming it can even infect off-worlders.

GARAK: Again, Doctor, it would announce the problem before we have a solution.

JULIAN: But it could help produce the solution you so desperately need!

GARAK: The risk is too great, Doctor.

JULIAN: Garak! Lives are at stake!

GARAK: Hundreds, perhaps thousands, to save billions. Doctor – will. You. Help. Me?

JULIAN: First and foremost, I’m a doctor, Garak. And I’m your friend.

GARAK: Yes. One more thing we should keep to ourselves.

JULIAN: You know Garak… you are being more paranoid than usual. You remind me of the exiled tailor I met so many years ago.

GARAK: Ah, but as you said yourself Doctor, the more things change-

JULIAN: The more they stay the same. But Garak, so much has changed. You’re the leader of your people.

GARAK: Julian… let’s drop the pretensions, shall we?

JULIAN: Whatever do you mean?

GARAK: You know that I have rebuilt the Obsidian Order, and the reason that I know that you know is because I know that you are working for Starfleet Intelligence. Your posting at Deep Space 9 is merely your cover. Why would a religious sanctuary like Deep Space 9 need a doctor of your capability, with such a limited Starfleet presence? I must admit, you have done an excellent job of obscuring your intelligence role.

JULIAN: Dear, dear Garak. Have you been keeping tabs on me? I suppose of all people you would be the only person I might be able to trust with such information. Assuming any of your conclusions are true. But Starfleet still has a presence and Deep Space 9 is still a major way station for commerce and diplomacy in the Bajoran sector.

GARAK: Of course you can trust me with sensitive information Julian-

JULIAN: [chuckles]

GARAK: -at least until there’s a reason you can’t. Oh, but let’s hope it never comes to that. I do like you; I did from the very beginning. You may be my only true friend. Since Mila’s passing, our all too infrequent exchanges have been my only respite from a world without trust. The political world on Cardassia deplores a vacuum and the old ways are clung to, even after the war. It took me years to bring Cardassians around to another way of thinking. The arts are celebrated, the people are fed. Life is no longer a struggle, but… paranoia is rampant once more.

JULIAN: Then I suppose you’ve been the ideal leader.

GARAK: Well, I do appear to have the appropriate skill set and experience, yes.

JULIAN: You could always go back to being a plain, simple tailor.

GARAK (LAUGHING): You would be surprised by how many of my old vocations I still dabble in. I’ve even taken up taxidermy! Yes, it’s true! But stuffing a tribble isn’t as challenging as perhaps a six-legged [uncertain] marsupial, but it passes the time. And so many wonderful things fit inside an animal that need only trill to appear alive.

JULIAN: [laughs]

GARAK: But as you said Julian, you are my friend, and one of the things I learned from working in the Obsidian Order under Enabran Tain, was that friends are a liability. Enemies are easy. Friends… friends are the challenge. When I was his protégé I had a job to do, relationships were tools to achieve my objectives. I don’t have time for friends, I don’t have room for emotional attachments.

JULIAN: And then you were exiled.

GARAK: And then… I was exiled.

JULIAN: I had no idea.

GARAK: About what?

JULIAN: Am I your only friend?

GARAK: Well… the only one living.

JULIAN: You said that your cardiopulmonary system seems to be demonstrating symptoms consistent with this neurolytic virus.

GARAK: Mm-hmm.

JULIAN: I need to at least access the database being used by the off-site researchers working on a cure.

GARAK: I’m sorry to disappoint you, Doctor – I’ve never been an ideal patient, as you well know. But while I trust you, I cannot risk any access that Starfleet Intelligence might have built into your shuttle.

JULIAN: Garak, you’re tying my hands. Do you have access to a medical scanner? Can you scan yourself?

GARAK: I’ve been a tailor, a gardener, a spy, who’s to say I’m not a doctor as well?

JULIAN: I suppose stranger things have happened.

GARAK: Oh, a shapeshifter saved the galaxy by going for a swim, a Starfleet captain turned out to be a god, a Cardassian legate turned out to be the devil, you were married to a woman three centuries your senior – stranger things, my dear doctor, happen all the time.

JULIAN: You may have a point. Although to be fair, Dax is three hundred years older, not Ezri. Ezri was several years younger than me.

GARAK: Semantics, Doctor.

JULIAN: Ah, here we are.

GARAK: I’m sorry?

JULIAN: I’ve created an encrypted backdoor to your central database.

GARAK: Ooh, of course you did. Yes, but it won’t help you. Our researches are working in a closed system, it is impossible to access their research through the central network.

JULIAN: Damn it, Garak, I’m trying to help you! I encrypted the access, there was no danger to you or you people! I used a fractal regression to develop access points at either end.

GARAK: And I sincerely appreciate your efforts, Julian. That’s why you’re here. And of course that is why I am convinced no one else will be able to save us.

JULIAN: I cannot do this without any information about the pathogen. And even the smartest person in the galaxy would be hard-pressed to develop a cure to an unknown virus quickly enough to prevent its spread or knowledge of its existence to the outside world.

GARAK: I have faith in you, Doctor. And to put your mind at ease, you should know that very few citizens on Cardassia are even aware that they are infected. And I’ve committed the Order to a substantial misinformation campaign to keep it that way.

JULIAN: How long do you expect that to last? The longer the infected believe that they’re free to live their normal lives or even to travel to and from health centers for treatment for whatever malady they believe they have, the faster the real virus will spread.

GARAK: Well, it seems its symptoms vary in their intensity. The cough can be persistent or periodic. And when that initial symptom passes, the neurological symptoms cause sufferers to present a variety of ailments. It is only those doctors who discovered the virus and were subsequently visited by some associates that are aware of the larger problem. And they are the very physicians currently researching the virus on my behalf.

JULIAN: If you are able to contact them then there’s no reason that I can’t access their data!

GARAK: Doctor, we’ve been through this.

JULIAN: Garak, we’ve been through a lot of things!

GARAK (LAUGHING): Yes.

JULIAN: You didn’t call me here to explain Cardassia’s post-war isolationist bureaucracy!

GARAK: [laughs]

JULIAN: I came because a friend in need asked me!

GARAK: You didn’t know why I called you, Doctor. So please, don’t offer me your selfless pretense.

JULIAN: Pretense?! You think after all this time your lives and deceptions would keep me from helping you? I can tell when you’re lying Garak, and you know when I’m telling the truth. I promise you that no one will ever know about your role in the cover-up of the virus, at least not from me.

GARAK: I… I want you to set course for the southern polar region of Cardassia Prime. The magnetic interference will make it more difficult for prying eyes to access your subspace signal. You’ll find that my alleged paranoia has a purpose. 

JULIAN: Computer, set course 118 mark 72.

COMPUTER: [chimes] Acknowledged.

JULIAN: Engage at one-quarter impulse.

COMPUTER: Course laid in. [chimes]

JULIAN: My signal was encrypted from the very beginning. I assume the same is true of the signal you used to isolate and redirect my subspace carrier wave. Isn’t it a little bit late to begin worrying now, Garak?

GARAK: Our signal may be secure between one another, but any system can be breached given enough time and expertise. And what I have to tell you…

JULIAN: Just tell me, Garak. I’m over the polar region as you asked.

GARAK: Yes, so you are, so you are. Now, good, wait- wait… Good. Now that we’re comfortably alone, let me ask you this: do viruses normally pop up undetected in a population with little to no prior warning? And how many unknown pathogens exist in a planetary ecosystem with our level of technological development?

JULIAN: Well, to be quite honest, pathogens can unexpectedly adapt or cross species barriers. Centuries ago on Earth, industrial pollution led to a climate change which in turn caused previously isolated microorganisms to be released into the biosphere.

GARAK: Yes, you truly have an answer for everything.

JULIAN: It comes in handy. But I suspect you’re going somewhere with this so please, continue.

GARAK: Our research has found some… peculiarities in the viral RNA, and admittedly I don’t understand all of the specifics, but, to put it bluntly, the virus has been engineered. I’m sending you two images of the viral RNA we’ve discovered. The images are all that I can risk sending you now. If you can find the source, you may find a cure. Alternatively, if a cure was not developed… you can avenge my death.

JULIAN: Not currently one of my skill sets, Garak. But why the pretense? You could’ve told me this immediately- actually, don’t answer that. I’ll need some time to do an analysis of this to determine what might work to counteract the viral infection. Annoyingly, there is no systemic treatment that I can even begin to research without knowing the underlying cause. But over the last twenty-five years, you must’ve made all sorts of new enemies. According to the latest intelligence, the only dangerous political intrigue is coming out of the Romulan Empire these days.

GARAK: Yes, well, leading a government comes with its own risks, to be sure, Doctor. But why do they have to be new enemies? Of course the Romulans have never been great fans of mine – I mean I left their embassy’s grounds-keeping staff so many years ago. Oh, those poor orchids, they’ll never be the same. And there’s always Kai.

JULIAN: The Kai.

GARAK: Ah, Kira- Kira, dear Kira’s never been a fan of mine.

JULIAN: We both know that Nerys would have never worked this slowly if she wanted to kill you.

GARAK: [laughs]

JULIAN: And she would only kill you. But Nerys is hardly the same person since she left the militia to join the Vedek Assembly, and now that she’s the Kai, this level of genetic manipulation would have to accomplished by someone with intimate knowledge of the Cardassian physiology as well as the capacity to evade security of your medical system.

GARAK: Yes, although like I said, it is an internal Cardassian matter. I’m sure there are plenty of elder Cardassians who would enjoy watching my life come to an end from torture. Dukat’s father- I mean, uh… [laughs] to one kanar-induced tryst with the man himself, to finally becoming involved with Ziyal, and whatever else-

JULIAN: Wait- wait, wait, wait you- hang on, you- you and Dukat?

GARAK: Ooh, yes. Surprising, isn’t it? Yes, two nights, maybe, before my exile, I’d been feeling quite powerful. I wouldn’t have normally lowered my guard even among my fellow Cardassians. Dukat was enjoying his second bottle of kanar, was looking for someone to blame for his most recent failures to overcome the Bajoran resistance, and there I was. He promised my death from across Quark’s bar. Later that evening he found his way back to my table to apologize – uncharacteristic, absolutely, to be sure. But kanar can do that to a man. We stole away to a quiet corner on the second level to talk, and then we found our way to an unoccupied holosuite.

JULIAN: I don’t know what to say.

GARAK: Well, I don’t need to tell you, Doctor – it was an unplanned direction for my evening to take. And suffice to say it didn’t soften Dukat’s general opinion of me. [laughs] He did keep his distance for a long time afterward.

JULIAN: So, that story had a happy ending, if you’ll pardon the pun.

GARAK: Pun?

JULIAN: Uh, it- it’d be funny on Earth. Though tragic, too – sort of like a sad clown, really. Miles will love it.

GARAK: Doctor, could we perhaps find out what is slowly eating away at me before revealing my darkest secrets to Professor O’Brien over an ale.

JULIAN: Of course, of course. I think the first step is to cross-reference known immunogenic agents that could have been introduced into your system. Even if the virus is a new pathogen, its mode of infection could be a million different things. You should review your schedule and try and determine an environment over which your control was limited, a place where the food and drink could’ve been tampered with or perhaps a place where you could have been unexpectedly exposed to an air assault. But… about this dalliance with Dukat-

GARAK: Oh Doctor, please. Provincial human attitudes aside-

JULIAN: Of course.

GARAK: -your species didn’t always have synthehol, and every species seems to go through a period of poor choices. Believe it or not, Cardassians are a passionate people, a people who yearn to find joy wherever it may lie. And remember, that we were in the midst of a Bajoran occupation and there wasn’t much joy to be had for those of us assigned to Terok Nor. Decades later, my reforms are helping to shape a modern Cardassia.

JULIAN: Understood. Though I take exception to the word ‘provincial’.

GARAK: Oh, of course you do. Now, let me take a look at my agenda… According to my doctors, I could have been exposed more than a month ago.

JULIAN: A month? Well, you certainly waited long enough to contact me.

GARAK: Well, well we do have doctors on Cardassia, and I wouldn’t be much of a leader if I didn’t look to my own people before seeking outside assistance. However, I’m not naïve enough to trust them completely. And what kind of leader would I be if I did?

JULIAN: Fair enough. I need to get some biometric information, please, from you if I’m even to begin researching cures. Can you transport yourself to a hospital with proper scanning equipment that I can access?

GARAK: Oh dear, I- I- I can do better than that, Doctor. I can do better than that. My residence is equipped with some of the best holographic technology in the quadrant – what type of equipment do we need?

JULIAN: I didn’t realize Cardassia had made such strides in holography.

GARAK: Oh, the technology is Federation, actually. Cardassian engineers build wonderful ships, but their work with artificial intelligence isn’t what it should be. Political life has its perks – I even have an EMH.

JULIAN: Well can I talk to him?

GARAK: Doctor, he’s obviously offline during this crisis. We’re wasting time better spent on the issue at hand! Now shall we begin?

JULIAN: Alright. Well the first thing we’ll need is a standard biobed with-

GARAK: Doctor, doctor, wait- I’m detecting a coherent signal directed at your shuttle. Yes, the magnetic currents over the poles should’ve obscured your presence. We may have a problem.

JULIAN: Hang on, it looks like an encrypted subspace signal… but I can’t determine the origin. Stand by, I’m trying- it’s… it’s from Earth. Well, I think I’ve got it. One moment… Jake?

[fade to black]

[CREDITS]

#ds9 #deep space nine #garashir #julian bashir #elim garak #alone together #long post #writing this out forced me to write about garak and d*kat f*cking and i absolutely hate that

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Out Tonight (Part 6)

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Nipple Play

<- Part 5

Summary: Backstory, Spanish lessons, and finally some sober sex! 🥳 (This chapter is very NSFW/18+)

For @thatesqcrush​​’s Kink Bingo challenge! And with this, I finally finish a row! 

5,420 words

The twenty-minute coffee date Rafael Barba had been dreading somehow turned into hours without him realizing it. The summer morning passed quickly until the sun was at its zenith above the turtle pond, and all of the work-related responsibilities he would have been grinding himself to death on had slipped his mind as he wandered through the park with your hand in his.

It turned out that you did have a few things in common. You both grew up in the Bronx. Though when you told him where, he snorted and joked, “What is an upstanding young lady from Spuyten Duyvil doing with a boy from the projects?”

Your jaw dropped when he told you what neighborhood he grew up in. It was an area you were familiar with mainly as a place to avoid, especially, god forbid, at night. The clean-cut lawyer in a sharp suit did not look anything like what you’d expect from the poverty he came from. You just assumed his family was wealthy.

“That’s incredible,” you said, a new surge of admiration for him stoking the fire of your attraction. You scooted closer on the shaded bench beneath a tall oak you’d stopped to sit on, your bare leg pressing against his slacks. You still hadn’t kissed, everything just barely skirting the romantic. The touch of his hand shot electricity through your skin, just from his fingers brushing yours. Neither of you wanted to push things too far, too fast, considering the guilt still lingering between you. “You must be a genius.”

Instead of boasting with the sly, cocky grin you had learned was among his favorite facial expressions, he grew serious, all but a trace of a smile leaving his lips. “I just worked hard,” he said.

“Really hard,” you said, knowingly, squeezing his hand. “Even people who work hard, who are smart… it’s almost impossible to escape that kind of poverty. The fact that you did it is…”

His inquisitive eyes, matching the foliage behind him, were strained as if deciding whether to share something or not. But he did, quietly. “I still work hard. Every day. It feels like if I make one false step, everything could fall apart. But, I have enough to support my mother.”

“And an impressive collection of ties,” you chimed.

He smirked, lifting your hand to casually press a kiss to the back of your knuckles. “And suspenders.”

Your pulse raced. Looking up and down this flawlessly stylish man, it all made sense. “Dressed to kill,” you muttered. “You wear it like a disguise.”

He frowned, the warmth leaving his eyes. You had touched a nerve. “Would it be a disguise if you wore it, or just because I’ll always be poor deep down?”

“I didn’t mean—OK, I get how that sounded. I just mean… you are exceptionally attractive. Like, really attractive. I mean, why am I telling you? You know that. Look at you.” You continued the obsequious flattery until a sarcastic smile appeared in the corner of his lips. “You know, actually,” you admitted, “I only grew up in a good neighborhood because my dad re-married rich. The weeks I was with my mom… she worked three jobs just to support me and a crummy apartment. I could never actually count on what the step-family would pay for, so sometimes I rode on boats with rich people, and sometimes I lived off canned pasta. It was weird.”

He looked at you appraisingly as he assimilated this new tidbit of information. “It isn’t easy, straddling two worlds.”

“Except you worked your ass off to break into one, and I ran away into the woods and got really into trees. Trees don’t judge you for not fitting in.”

“I’m sorry for judging you,” he whispered, his voice turning surprisingly tender. He lifted a hand and gently brought it to your cheek. You closed your eyes as it made contact, his palm warm against your skin, the pad of his thumb soft as it began stroking your cheek. You leaned forward, and he closed the remaining distance, his lips capturing yours, slow and sweet. It was chaste at first, and careful, but neither of you wanted to break it, and as it continued, his arms wrapped around the small of your back and your shoulder, drawing you in deeper as his heady scent enveloped you, the taste of coffee on his tongue as his lips parted.

“Barba?”

Rafael practically jumped out of your arms as an inquisitive voice called his name, leaving you kissing the air. The voice belonged to a tall brunette woman pushing a toddler along in a stroller.

“Liv!” he practically shrieked in alarm, straightening himself.

You looked between them and the kid, and felt like such an idiot. “Oh my god, you are cheating!”

Liv gave you a look, and burst out laughing. “Sorry, sorry, nothing like that. I’m Sergeant Benson, SVU,” she extended you a firm handshake and explained, “I work with Barba on a lot of cases.” She turned back to Barba with an amused smirk. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date, I just couldn’t believe my eyes. Counselor, I didn’t realize you had a personal life.”

“It’s a new thing I’m trying. How’s Noah?”

“He’s perfect,” she smiled, cooing at the curly-haired child. “He loves the turtles, so we’re going down to the pond. Beautiful day for a nature walk.”

“She knows every tree,” Barba volunteered, puffing his chest out with the same cockiness he used to talk about himself, tipping his head at you. “Go ahead, test her.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Liv said, bemused. She gave a polite nod and a reminder that she still owed Barba a coffee for some legal thing he had come through on (which only gave you a slight pang of jealousy), and then waved goodbye, walking down the path toward the water.

You sat in silence, recovering. Barba was obviously scandalized to have been caught in a compromising position by a colleague, the tips of his ears turning red. You were glad she wasn’t his wife, but didn’t love having to suddenly confront the fact that he had an entire social life you knew absolutely nothing about. It sort of ruined the intimacy of the moment, tearing the cardboard moon out of your sky too soon.

Barba broke the silence first with a low, drawn-out groan. He turned to you, his eyes soft but flashing with passion, taking your hands in his again. “If we start seeing each other… there is a good chance you will get to know Liv in some capacity.” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, and on the exhale beseeched, “You cannot tell her how we met.”

The earnestness with which he implored you, holding both your hands, made you burst out laughing. He did a poor job hiding his smile as he watched you double over. When you finally contained yourself, you pecked an innocent kiss to his lips. “We can say we met at a bar. We don’t have to mention all the, uh...” Karaoke. Drunken shenanigans. Dubious consent. Whatever you call we-didn’t-have-penis-in-vagina-sex-but-you-fingered-me-until-we-orgasmed. He grimaced with you as you both recalled all of the things you would not be telling anyone about your meet-cute. Then you started remembering his fingers gliding in and out of you, his hungry lips marking up your skin, and a warm shiver ran down your back. He swallowed, seeing the lustful heaviness creep into your eyes and responding with his own.

He nearly kissed you again, wrapping you in a passionate embrace that would have hastened you to a bedroom, but you pulled back. He said “seeing each other.” You thought this was a fun fling with no strings attached, and the idea that he was already thinking about more made your heart sink with guilt. “I should tell you...”

You never got to finish your thought. Liv had only gotten fifty feet when her phone rang. She was yelling into it frantically, demanding answers. Barba’s phone buzzed with an incoming message. Liv stormed back up the path, waving to him. “There’s been a… development,” she said, censoring the case details in your presence. “They need me at the precinct. You’re probably going to want to come, too.”

“I believe I am already being summoned,” he replied, checking his phone.

“Good. I need to call the sitter. Please let everyone know I’m on my way.” She hurried off, and any hint of flirtation was gone from Barba’s eyes as he stood, fully back in cold lawyer mode as he made a phone call, then another to order a Lyft.

He was already walking with quick, purposeful steps toward the nearest exit of the park when he hung up his last call and turned back to you apologetically. You had been trailing behind him, unsure if he wanted you to follow, and didn’t miss that you were an afterthought. But his regret was sincere. And the truth was, you didn’t mind this serious version of Barba at all—the sober Barba who poured his soul into getting justice and would forget a date he had been enjoying the instant duty called—because you’d seen the drunk version who fell apart, sobbing in your arms when he let down the victims. He had a hard side and a soft side, and so far, there was nothing about him that you didn’t like.

Oh god, you had a crush on him.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. It’s an emergency,” he explained, brow furrowed heavily over yearning green eyes.

Oh god, this was only supposed to be a one-night stand. Maybe a few nights, but a stand nonetheless. How dare he look at you like that?

“It’s alright. It sounds important,” you half smiled.

“Can I call you later?” he asked. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he had none of the confident swagger usually in his voice. It was a small, hopeful sort of question that told you there were real emotional stakes to your answer.

Oh god, did he have a crush on you, too? Did you have a crush on each other? This was terrible!

Drawn in as if by a magnetic pull, you closed the short distance, threaded your hands between his arms and body, and clasped them together behind his back. His lips quirked as his confidence returned. His hands cupped the sides of your face, then his mouth crashed against yours, fired with all of the passion of desire realized and reciprocated, relief, and longing. It was the type of kiss that would have been drawn out and sensual if it hadn’t been condensed by necessity into a hurried goodbye. You were out of breath and overheated when he broke it, seconds later.

“I’ll be waiting,” you breathed. He gave a hungry growl and a sharp, promising stare that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core before running to catch his ride.

***

Barba hated intelligent psychopaths. Even after they’d been put away, there was always some new appeal to fight, a new witness to come forward, some clever misdirection to cast their crimes into doubt. He’d been running around since noon working out deals with witnesses, obtaining warrants, and warning Liv’s detectives that they were being played. Now the sun was hanging low in the sky, and he realized he had never heard Carmen’s futile warning for him to go home already because his secretary didn’t work on weekends when he was pulling overtime. It was just him and his headache.

The time. What time was it?

He sat bolt upright in his leather office chair and groped for his phone. There was a notification from you from an hour ago that he vaguely recalled hearing buzz.

“How’s the emergency?”

He cursed and checked the time. It was getting late. Too late to make a reservation at any of the swankier restaurants he could take you. But he called you anyway, and was delighted when you answered.

“Hey. It’s Barba,” he said.

“I know,” said your amused voice on the other end of the line. “Your contact is in my phone, Sexy Karaoke Lawyer.”

He groaned in a way that was secretly a laugh. “Alright, Lorax. Are you free tonight? I’d like to take you to dinner. Actually, I thought I could make dinner. At my place?”

You gasped with mock scandalization. “Is this a booty call, Mr. Barba?”

He choked. “No. I just—” He stopped stammering when you started cackling like a grinning idiot, and his voice dropped low. “What if it is?”

The sudden shift in confidence caught you off guard, and he heard you swallow. “Then I’ll be there.”

***

It had been ages since he’d had time to make his abuelita’s costillas de puerco recipe. Or rather, it had been ages since he’d made time, considering he hardly had the time to do it now. He rushed through the corner deli at lightning pace to pick up what he needed, and rushed through prep, knowing you’d be over in less than an hour.

He had no idea why he felt such a drive to impress you. Why he needed to see you again so soon when you’d spent hours by his side that morning. The entire short time he had known you had been strange, anxiety-inducing, and guilt-ridden, but instead of hating you, he found himself wanting more.

The truth he didn’t want to admit was, every interaction with you, no matter how awkward, had been underscored by a potent sexual chemistry, and at the moment, he was nothing but a horny teenage boy who wanted to get laid.

That was all. This was some mid-forties hormonal resurgence. Madre de dios, it was a midlife crisis.

Or maybe this was what happened when he stopped getting in his own way. He’d spent years nursing a broken heart, years that turned into decades guarding himself against anyone getting too close. He never thought he’d feel this way again for somebody new. It was too late in life to meet someone who would know him as well as his childhood friends from el barrio, and they were all married by now. But he’d opened himself up just an inch, just for a night, by mistake, and let someone see past the hard, cynical facade, and now he wanted you to know him. He wanted to know you. He wanted to see how this ended. Maybe this was a revelation.

His heart jumped in his chest at the buzz of the door intercom.

***

“Hola, Rafael,” you greeted, and he grinned at the way you pronounced his name with the correct accent. “Oh my gosh, what smells amazing?”

He stood aside and nodded you in. The apartment was tiny, as most city apartments are, but tidy and well decorated. You were immediately drawn to the sturdy dining room table made of solid burl, and admired the natural chaotic pattern of the grain.

“It needs fifteen more minutes,” he said, observing with amusement how you completely ignored the good silver he’d broken out and started stroking the wood.

“What ever shall we do to pass the time?” you pouted innocently. Barba growled low in his throat, cupping a hand around your hip to draw you close, and you responded by pressing your hips flush against his, smiling lustily. Well, you had more or less agreed that dinner was a pretense for a booty call—no reason not to get right to it.

You hadn’t changed, but he was wearing a more casual wine-colored cashmere sweater, and you ran your hand up it, relishing the velvet softness under your palm as well as the shape of his chest. His lips met yours hot and searching, but didn’t stop there. They trailed over the side of your mouth, kissing down your jaw. He pressed wet, hungry kisses along your neck, and you moaned as his tongue lapped over the soft underside of your throat, his hands gliding over your hips. He pulled back by an inch. “Are you sure… you want this?” he murmured.

“God yes,” you moaned with your lips in his perfect salt-and-pepper hair, arousal raising your temperature as your body responded to his touch. “You haven’t been drinking this time?”

“Not a drop,” he replied huskily, somehow making it sound lewd as he resumed kissing the crook of your neck, and over your shoulder. You curled your fingers through his hair, and backed you up until your legs hit the edge of the table, and rested your weight against it, enjoying the feeling of being pinned as you angled your pelvis to grind against his growing erection.

“Oh, Rafa...” you moaned. “Can I call you Rafa?” you asked, not sure if the nickname was too personal. With the emotional baggage of your first night together, you hadn’t been sure if being on a first-name basis was respectful enough.

“You can call me anything you want,” he purred, his teeth gently pinching your shoulder.

You made a deep, chesty noise, sinfully considering that. “Don’t give me such broad permission, or you might regret it… papi.”

He groaned, and you felt his cock kicking against your cunt. Bunching up your skirt over your hips, you rocked your hips against him, panting just from feeling the strength of his arousal through his clothes. “Yes,” he hissed softly, holding you firmly against him as he worked his clothed erection against your panties, growing more excited with every mewl and shudder it drew from your lips. “That night was… moronic… but I remember the way I felt… how much I wanted you.” He turned his head and sucked a light bruise into your neck. “Do you still feel that way?”

You dipped your head to coax him back to your mouth, his pink lips wet with saliva as your tongue tasted them. “I wanted you to fuck me so bad,” you groaned, jerking your hips for emphasis on the word fuck. “But your fingers are very skilled… and your mouth...” You kissed him again, and felt his hand reach between your legs to slide your panties off.

His fingers paused halfway down the elastic. “Is this moving too fast?” he panted, suddenly trying to be reasonable. The kind of thing you would worry about if you were building a long-term relationship.

“Shh,” you hushed him gently. “I don’t want to think about too fast or too slow, or how different our lives are, or what’s going to happen after tonight. We’re just two strangers having fun. Can’t it just be that?”

He kissed you so softly, then. So tenderly that he could only have been subliminally trying to convince you of something more. His heart drummed with possessive affection; he already knew he wanted more than just tonight. At least the primitive, reckless part of him that didn’t overthink and over-plan every decision did. The rational part of him and the part that would say anything to please you came to an accord as he nodded, lips moving against your skin, “It can be.”

You grabbed his wrist and helped him slip your underwear the rest of the way off, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. His fingers didn’t immediately plunge themselves into your drenched folds, and his hips didn’t immediately return to grind against your wetness. His intelligent, cocky green eyes gave you a probing stare.

“Y qué quieres hacer esta noche?” he purred, low and seductive, giving you a choice.

“Oh, papi, me encanta cuándo hablas español. I want you to do anything you want to me. Anything,” you moaned, fairly certain that, with one or two exceptions, you really meant it. This man turned you on in ways you’d never experienced. There was nothing you wouldn’t try if he wanted it, and you knew he’d stop the second you asked, which made you feel bolder.

He chuckled. “Don’t give me such broad permission, dulce naturalista.”

The promise of mischief in his voice made you shiver, your cunt dripping. “Anything, papi. I just… want to know that you want me.”

He hummed. “This dress, this flimsy thing,” he hooked his index fingers through the narrow shoulder straps and tugged. “Did you know I’ve been staring at it all day, thinking about doing this?” He pulled the front down, just by a few inches, and freed your nipples. He dipped his head, and you gasped as he took one in his mouth.

“Oh god, it feels so good,” you whined as he began to suck, rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. It was like he had a direct connection to your clit. He wasn’t even touching you there, but a hot pressure began to build between your legs as he devoured your sensitive nipples.

Then he suddenly released, your hard peak popping out of his mouth with a wet sound, and you whined for him not to stop. “Tu no dominas el español, verdad?” he asked.

“Qué?” you blurted, confused, but answering his question by not understanding it.

“I didn’t think so,” he said, a devilish look in his eyes. “You need practice, so I’ve decided I’ll only give you what you want if you say it in Spanish.”

“Pero… Qué pasa si… yo no sé… how to say it in Spanish?” You did want to learn more dirty talk, but this game didn’t seem fair. You wanted him to keep sucking your tits.

“You said I could do anything I wanted...” he reminded you, bringing his hand back to one of your breasts and kneading it tormentingly slowly. “Si no lo sabes, intenta. Practica, practica, practica.”

You wondered if this was some sort of dominance thing, or if he just liked watching you struggle with his native language. It was a bit exciting, though, you had to admit. Your pulse was racing with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment, because you genuinely had no idea how to say what you wanted. “Mis… pechos? Tu lengua. Por favor.” you pointed from his mouth to your breasts.

“Por favor, chupa mis pezones,” he corrected. “Repite.” You repeated it, and before you’d finished the last syllable, he replied, “Con gusto,” and began stimulating your nipples to the point of torture with his nimble lawyer’s tongue.

“Oh god,” you whimpered, your voice high and pleading, “It feels so good.” You bucked your hips into his and curled your fingers around the back of his head trying to force him to keep going, but he pulled back.

“En español,” he chided.

“En serio?!” you complained, but he simply watched you with his eyebrows quirked, waiting. “Me siento bien?” you tried. He smiled approvingly and lowered his sultry mouth to your skin again, flicking your hardened peak while pinching it between his lips. This time he pushed his hips back against yours so you could feel the heat of his erection on your pussy, and it sent new waves of electricity coursing through your body, which was already heaving just with the attention to your breasts. “Por favor, más... Oh god, yes,” you whimpered.

“Qué sabor muy rica, tu piel,” he murmured, muffled in your skin. “You taste delicious.” The vibrations from his speech tore a choked whimper from your lips, and you bucked your hips against his cock.

You bit down on your lower lip, fighting your rising climax even as you lifted one leg, wrapping it over his hip, to hasten it. “I’m gonna—oh god, you’re going to make me come just from this!”

“Voy a venir,” he coached you in a firm, teacher-like voice that nearly made you double over with arousal. “O puedes decir, ‘Me vas a poner a venir.’”

“M-me pon… ah!” he lightly nipped at your sensitive peak, turning the rest of what you were trying to say into helpless babble. “Please, please fuck me… oh god.” Before he could correct you, you remembered what he’d taught you in the bar right before begging you to leave with him so he could fuck your brains out. “Dámelo duro, papi.”

His whole body shuddered as he took in a shaking breath, but sober Barba never lost control until he decided to surrender it. As much as he wanted to fuck you, he was having too much fun teasing you. “You could also say, ‘Quiero que me coges,’” he explained academically, and you growled with frustration, writhing under him, your cunt seeking purchase against his cock. “If you’re going to speak a language, you’ve got to practice it,” he said, his voice far too calm and even for the circumstance, even with its wicked undertone.

“Dámelo! Por favor! Dáme tu pinga!” you begged frantically, rapid-firing off every way to ask for his cock that you could think of. You reached between your bodies and grasped his engorged sex through his tightened pants and stroked him hard from balls to tip. Your efforts were rewarded with an involuntary whine, Barba’s hips jerking forward.

“Me rindo,” he whimpered in surrender. His breath was ragged and he looked ready to fall apart. You purred with victory, but as you slowed the furious pace of your stroking, he recovered enough of his senses to smirk through his lust. “Pero primero, quiero saborearte.” His voice was thick, and his eyes dark as a tropical storm on a Caribbean island. He lifted the leg you’d wrapped around him up onto the table, and knelt beneath you. “Con tu permiso?”

You nodded, gasping sharply even before his tongue made contact with your soaked pussy just from the obscene expression on his face as he opened his mouth and extended the point of his tongue as he slowly leaned toward you. Your hands braced behind you on the table for support. Then you cried out loud when that tongue did hit you, slightly cold from the air, but quickly warming to match you as his mouth closed over your whole cunt. “Ah, que rica,” he sighed into your pussy, lapping at your slippery arousal with broad, languid strokes of his tongue, unhurried, as if he were aiming for no particular goal but to enjoy your flavor. “So wet for papi. Qué buena estudiante eres. Good students should be rewarded.”

He finally stood back up to his full height in front of you and removed his pants and underwear, letting them fall around his ankles, and his cock sprang free. You gaped down at it in awe. “Oh god, look at that cock,” you practically drooled. You automatically reached down and started stroking it, babbling on about what a thick, beautiful cock it was. He was too lost in the touch of your fingers wrapped around his shaft to even complain that it wasn’t Spanish.

“Ah, condoms!” he interjected before pushing himself inside you like every muscle in his body was screaming to do. “I’ve got some in the bedroom.”

You chewed your lip, not sure if this would come off the wrong way since he wanted to be responsible, but you slowly said, “We don’t need to use one if you don’t want. I’m on the pill, and I don’t have any STDs.”

His stormy eyes pierced into you, clearly tempted, but he couldn’t help remarking cynically, “If you give me a disease, I swear...”

“I’m afraid I don’t have my medical records on me, so I understand if you don’t want to take my word for it. I don’t know why I’m blindly trusting you.” That was a lie. Everything about Rafael Barba screamed precision, caution, and consent, and even after such a short time knowing him, you were absolutely certain he would never put you at risk. In fact, there was no way he’d ever have unprotected sex with a stranger.

Except his very next words were, “Fuck it,” and he hooked his arm under your elevated leg, and began rubbing his thick cock through your folds, coating it with your slick arousal. “You are absolutely sure you want this?” he looked at you with soft, understanding eyes, checking for any doubts.

You let out a needy whine, rolling your hips to rub your pussy against the tip of his fat cock. “Te quiero,” you whimpered, intending to say you wanted it, but his cheeks reddened and his heart flipped as you said something better translated as I love you.

You wouldn’t realize your mistake until much later, thinking back on it, or understand why his face was suddenly frozen between tenderness and panic, and then dawning realization, relief, and a small, barely noticeable wince of disappointment.

He entered you slowly, letting you feel every inch of stretch from his cock. Like the rest of his build, it was not the longest you had ever seen, but it was impressively girthy, and each blissful inch he worked you open brought the slightest fraying edge of pain. He knew his size could be a challenge, and was practiced at preparing, and patience. You were already so dripping wet, you didn’t need extra lube, though he had it on standby, and watched you carefully, pausing to let you rest every time he advanced. As he waited, feeling your walls relax to accept him, he ducked his head to your breasts, savoring the helpless squeals you made when he gave attention to what he learned was one of your most sensitive erogenous zones. Every time he flicked his tongue over your nipple or sucked its hardened peak into his mouth, your cunt twitched around him and your back arched to take more of him. It worked so well, he never stopped teasing your breasts, and your silent cries of, “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god!” grew in intensity until you were screaming with pleasure, fist clenched in his hair as you held him to your chest, and his balls were pressed tight against your ass.

Panting hard and moaning into your breasts, he began to thrust, slowly at first, but you wrapped your legs around his back and used them as leverage to buck your hips into him, pushing back into each of his thrusts, deepening them and coaxing him to increase his pace. As you angled your hips, he began hitting a deep point inside that made your legs turn to jelly. “Dámelo bien duro,” you tried to say, but it mostly came out as unintelligible gasps and whimpers. His mouth never left your tits and you loved the angle it gave you, being able to watch his face, strained with concentration and clouded with lust, and his tongue working diligently to bring you to a climax that took you off guard with how suddenly it crashed over you. You couldn’t say there was no buildup to it, because you had been in throes since he first pulled down your dress, but he had barely begun to thrust when the heat coiling in your lower back suddenly tightened and snapped, shooting sparks behind your eyelids. “Ah—Rafa!” you wailed, squeezing your fingers in his hair.

He gasped, releasing the globe of your breast from his mouth at the wracking of your body in his arms. Your pussy convulsed, clenching tightly around his cock, coating it in your sweet release, almost too tight for him to thrust through. One more jerk of his hips through your rippling, fluttering muscles and he let out a string of swears, and you felt his abdominal muscles tense up against your belly. He pulled back and thrust into you once more, balls swinging against your ass, and his hot seed flooded you. He panted, trembling, still trying to hold onto you, though halfway sitting on a dining table without knocking off any of the plates was not the most ideal location for post-coital recovery cuddling. He grabbed a few paper napkins from behind you to catch the drippings as he pulled out.

It was over too fast, a testament to how long it had been for him. Both of you, really. But you weren’t disappointed. He made you come almost entirely with that silver tongue of his, and you were still shaking too much to take your weight off the table and put it on your legs.

The timer on the oven rang shrilly, announcing dinner was done.

“After dinner,” he promised, pulling his pants back on. “Quiero más de tu cuerpo.”

You were satisfied, but not yet sated, and looked forward to round two.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba​ / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @da-po / @madamsnape921 / @charlottegrice / @onerestein

#Rafael Barba x Reader #Rafael Barba #Raúl Esparza #rafael barba x female reader #my writing #thatesqcrush kink bingo #thatesqcrush

[johns-prince]

Hi! So... this might seem like a weird question but, why do you think John was a top?

[x] [x]

Simple answer: I just do. Just like there’s individuals who believe John was much more of a bottom, or that he was a full-on switcher-- I believe John was a top/dom.

From what I know about his sexuality, he was rather aggressive and dominating in bed, liked calling the shots [not to say he couldn’t make love or anything like that, since there’s people who think being dominant or aggressive in bed doesn’t mean you can make love with someone-- but I digress] His personality is rather dominant as well, naturally, not forced. There’s a reason John and Paul’s relationship was quite compatible, one was content with giving into the other’s demands and presence. Paul would naturally give into John, unless there was a solid reason for him not too, and then they’d buttheads, until someone had to give in [and Paul was not a doormat] so usually if it was Paul digging his heels into the ground and John would end up having to concede [Paul was also just good at working John on agreeing with him or, begrudgingly giving in to Paul’s ideas and demands without seriously going on the defensive/offensive and becoming irritable; think the White jackets and black bowties story]. 

There has to be compromise in most functioning relationships, which is why John and Paul could be either the push or the pull depending on who was lacking what or who was giving what. Sometimes Paul did have to be a bastard, and John had to be warm-- at least, have a warm and loving side for Paul. 

“John and I were two of the luckiest people in the twentieth century to have found each other. The partnership, the mix, was incredible. We both had submerged qualities that we each saw and knew. I had to be the bastard as well as the nice melodic one and John had to have a warm and loving side for me to stand him all those years. John and I would never have stood each other for that length of time had we been just one-dimensional.”

- Paul McCartney talking about John Lennon in 1997

Anyway that’s another tangent and probably has nothing to do with what I’m trying to get too so--

There’s people who argue that he’d prefer to bottom or he is one because of his desire for security. I don’t really disagree with that, but how I see it is that, there’s security in having the trust of the one you love giving themselves to you [or to John in this instance] and showing that they trust you enough to basically manhandle them and, well, fuck them, do things to them that make them feel in a position of vulnerability and complete open-nakedness. Personally I feel like John would feel more secure in having the control [and if that means still having control in giving himself, then fine, I’ll hand you that] and he despised being made vulnerable, hated it.

Now you could say; but JP, wasn’t Yoko much more dominant than John? I would say much more controlling, but sure let’s just go with that.

That doesn’t factor into their sex life though-- it’s a fact they weren’t sexually compatible in the slightest. Sure, she gave herself to John in the beginning of their relationship, but she couldn’t keep up with John’s high libido. It’s why she was technically fine with him sleeping around. She was also pushing John towards seeing a counselor for the issues in regards to their supposed sex life, if I’m remembering right. I believe something was going on with John’s sex drive at the time too, which could’ve been because, doing the sort of hard drugs that John had been doing, can cause erectile dysfunction/ejaculatory dysfunction and weaken sex drive. 

But it also could’ve been due to the fact John was a kinky motherfucker and she just, didn’t like it. Even in John’s audio diaries he’d mentioned how he’d hoped after getting to a certain age these ‘fantasies’ would stop, whatever they could’ve been. They hadn’t.

They had stopped sleeping in the same bed together sometime in the, what? Beginning of the seventies? And then they had their ‘break,’ got back together, had Sean, and again they had stopped sleeping in the same bed and even same room by the coming end of the 70s. 

So even if Yoko was technically the more controlling “dominant” personality in the unstable relationship, sexually John was still a loud kinky dom, and Yoko couldn’t handle it.

I could also pull many, many, many photos of John that give “top/dom” vibes, but that’s just subjective innit?  

#questionsquestionsquestions #john lennon #John just gives me ''manhandle and choke me daddy while railing me into the bed'' vibes energy personality #it is what it is #I need a kinky loud dom in my life is what

[auncyen]

So this is kind of inspired by i can take you to the place of delight  by futuresoon, a Maruki/Akira horror story that is horror because it is Maruki/Akira.

The writing is very good and I am on tenterhooks about whether it’ll end okay or end in a nightmare so I have kind of been wanting to write Ren’s friends learning he’s in a relationship like that and being protective of him.  (Although whether he accepts that protection is...well it’s not promising.)

**

“You two have fun!” Morgana told Ren and Ann outside the diner, his tail twitching curiously.  “Ren--relax and show Lady Ann a good time, will you?  You’ve been twitchy all day.”

Ann glanced at Ren as he sighed.  He had been really tense sitting behind her in class, but she had a pretty good idea why.  She tried to give him a reassuring smile and gestured for him to follow her into the diner, where a waitress showed them to a booth.  She placed an order for Frui-Tea, which Ren copied.

“So what’s this about?” Ren asked after the waitress walked away.  His tone was brusque, and he immediately caught it, wincing.  “Sorry.  Morgana’s right, I’ve been--off.  I guess this Palace is finally getting to me.”

It was a good excuse; Ann wouldn’t be surprised if the Palace was part of her friend’s stress.  Especially considering...what awaited him when they finished.  “Haha, yeah, this one’s been tough, hasn’t it?” she said cheerfully, playing along for the moment.  “I’ll tell you in a sec, but first, can you turn your phone off?”

They’d told Futaba that spying on other people’s phones was invasive.  Futaba had told them she’d be negligent not keeping tabs on them when they seemed to be taking on a government conspiracy.  ...The same conspiracy that had killed Futaba’s mother.  They’d reached a compromise that they’d turn off their phones whenever they really needed privacy, and Futaba was not to ask any questions about the blackout or do any hacking to get around it.  So far that seemed to be working.  And it needed to keep working for this, because Ann would be livid if Futaba tried to circumvent the agreement on this particular conversation.

Ren looked more concerned now, taking his phone out so that she could see he was powering it down.  He placed it on the table.  “Is everything ok, Ann?”

She took out her own phone so he could see she was turning it off too, laid it next to his phone, and then pushed both phones next to the wall of the booth.  ...And then laid her sweatshirt over both devices, though she wasn’t 100% sure that would muffle the sound enough if they somehow turned back on.  It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Futaba!  ...Except it kind of was, exactly, that she didn’t trust Futaba not to hack things she’d been told not to hack.  She trusted Futaba with her life in the Metaverse.  Phones were a completely different story.  “I think I should be asking you that,” she told Ren.

He looked at her with confusion, and she bit her lip, not sure how to start this topic.  Then he let out a soft breath of surprise.  “You saw me in the nurse’s office this morning,” he said, sinking back into his seat and folding his arms.  Still on guard.  “Your hoodie was up, so I didn’t recognize you from behind.”

“I was still chilly when I got back in the building,” Ann mumbled, and tugged on a blonde pigtail awkwardly.  Dammit, she’d known this conversation was going to be tough.  For both of them.  “But yes, I saw you and Maruki,” she said firmly, to shut down any doubt about what she’d seen.  “And--I’m sorry.”

Ren blinked in surprise.  “Uh.”  He chuckled, the laughter itself a bit confused.  “Ann, I know you weren’t trying to spy or anything, or you wouldn’t have opened the door and then ran like that.  I’m just glad it was you and not another girl.  I was expecting the rumor mill to explode by lunch time.  Followed by Maruki getting fired and me getting expelled.”

The way he said that almost made it sound Maruki getting fired would be a bad thing.  Ann had only run because walking in on Ren making out with someone was not something she’d been planning to do.  The second she’d calmed down from the surprise enough to register the someone shoving his tongue down Ren’s throat was their counselor, the man who was supposed to be helping students recover after another faculty member had turned himself in for sexually harassing minors, was the instant her rage had skyrocketed.  She’d wanted a literal firing.  “No, I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were in trouble,” she said.  “I think--I think I get why you didn’t tell us--there’s a lot going on, right?  But Ren, we can make time to help you.”

The way Ren was looking at her so uncertainly made her insides twist.  It wasn’t too different from how Shiho had looked sometimes.  It made Ann feel like she had a mild bufu spell arcing through her body, a chilling frisson at the back of her head that dripped down into cold dread in her gut.  He might have kept quiet for other reasons too.  He didn’t like asking for help much.  Did--did he feel ashamed because of the position Maruki had him in?  Because of what their counselor had done to him?

God, she wanted to set the man on fire.  “Look, I don’t mean--I’m not planning to tell anyone else about this.”  She had, nearly.  She’d had her phone out to text Makoto about the whole thing before she stopped and considered Ren’s privacy.  Then she’d used her phone for something else.  “But when you turn your phone back on, you can check the metanav...or maybe you already know?  Maruki’s a hit.”  Ren’s gray eyes widened in surprise, and Ann nodded, feeling more confident.  He just hadn’t known there was a way they could help him out of the situation.  “Even if you don’t want to tell the others about...what’s going on, let’s just tell them we heard rumors he was doing this sort of thing!  There’s no way anyone would stand for it, so you don’t have to be hurt by a scumbag like him!”

“Takuto’s...distorted...?” Ren murmured, and that was weird, hearing him using Maruki’s personal name.  He slowly shook his head.  “Ann...are you sure it’s the right person on the Nav?  Or...no, actually, I can believe he might be distorted...but you’ve got the wrong idea.”

That feeling of ice in her stomach was back.  “Uh,” Ann choked out.  “I think I got a pretty clear look at the situation this morning.  I’m sure it’s him on the Metanav.  Though...I haven’t figured out where the distortion’s located, yet.”  She’d tried every location she could think of on school grounds.  No dice.  All those were in Sae’s Palace.  “But still, I’m sure.  We can help you, Ren.  Let’s steal his heart.”

“I already did that,” Ren said with a wry smile.  “Ann, seriously.  It’s okay.  I didn’t tell you guys about Maruki because I knew everyone would get upset about it after what happened with Kamoshida.  And sure enough...”  His lips twitched in that nervous half-smile again before he looked away and rubbed the back of his neck.  Finally, he looked her in the eyes again.  “Thank you for worrying about me, Ann.  You’re a really good friend.  And...it is concerning that he’s distorted.  But I think I have an idea what his fixation is, and it’s nothing like Kamoshida’s.  I’ll try to help him work through it.  He didn’t pressure me into the relationship.  I’m okay, Ann.”

Ann stared at him.  “You think...it’s okay...that he’s distorted?  And having relationships with students?”

“Not so loud,” Ren said, looking around.  He leaned forward.  “You know distortions aren’t always malicious.  And he isn’t having relationships with students.  Just with me.  Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but everything is fine.”

Ann took a deep breath.

Panther added a few more agidynes to the total pain she’d wreak on that man’s shadow when she found it.

#persona 5 #ren amamiya #ann takamaki #p5r spoilers

[theonetheycallhannah]

A Mage’s Beginning-Part One

Summary: Anathema of Velena is sent by the Brotherhood of Sorcerers to a kingdom already decimated by a mighty beast when she happens upon another. One who saves her life…as she saves his.

Pairing: Geralt/OFC (Anathema of Velena)

Word Count: 5k

Rating/Warnings: M for language, discussion of mature themes and situations, alcohol consumption, violence, and reflection on a particularly shitty childhood that could be triggering. Body image triggers. No smut for now. Also, warning that it’s stupid long and only half done! Wow! I’m super sorry! Anathema is kind of a long winded little witch.

Inspiration: Netflix’s The Witcher, that sweet, sweet Cavill bod, and the chocolatey crunch of his “Geralt voice!” (idk why, but that’s the imagery for me. Lol!) Also, Ana inspired by the badassness of Anya Chalotra as Yen, the powerful vulnerability of Anna Shaffer as Triss, and the poise and grace of MyAnna Brunning as Tissaia…I honestly can’t believe that the name Anathema is a total coincidence now. Especially considering that my name…is Hannah, a version of all of these. It just came to me as a cool name.

Author’s Note: Like most of my OFCs (and honestly, even EFCs), Anathema is loosely based on myself. She reacts how I feel I would (or sometimes hope I would) in her situation. For those of you who read “Shape of Her” you’ll know that I’m chubby. Anathema was, as well, before her transformation, and she talks about what it was like for her as a child and adolescent growing up. For me, this was a deeply personal thing to write about. I don’t usually talk about the effect my weight has always had and continues to have on my mental health. I’m very fortunate that, unlike Anathema, I have loving parents that have never treated me this way. But in an odd way, their “help” and concern for my physical health has created this sort of villainous aspect of them in my mind, and I suppose that comes out in Ana’s mother here. At any rate, I should probably go back to a counselor about it, but that’s tough during a pandemic and with my work hours. So I write about it, and I guess there ends up being a bit of validation for her/me when Geralt shows interest (and maybe takes that further in part two...no spoilers here!). Not that any of it’s completely healthy, but at least it’s kinda cathartic and fun in the moment if you don’t think too hard about it. I hope the monologue doesn’t bog you down and make you lose interest. If it does, just skip it. It won’t hurt my feelings.

Also, I’m sure my spells are total baloney compared to what’s in the books and deffo to what’s in the show. I just wanted to write something down to sort of show the power being expelled by Ana. These are probably way more Hogwarts than Aretuza! Lol!

Tag List: @sunflowersstan @mylittlepartofthegalaxy @mstgsmy @lareinedususpense @geekycanuck and @littlefreya (omg it let me tag you this time, Freya!) I didn’t tag some of you that I tagged before in Shape of Her, just because I didn’t know if that was something you wanted. (basically, if I didn’t get a concrete response one way or the other, or I wasn’t fairly sure you’d want a tag, I didn’t tag you. I still love all of you!) Please let me know if you want to be tagged or if you want me not to tag you in things! I will not be offended! Also, this is not smutty. It’s pre-smut. lol!

Anathema of Velena was a mage of little renown. Powerful enough, but nothing compared to someone such as Yennefer of Vengerberg. She had worked so hard at Aretuza and all Rectoress Tissaia de Vries could manage to tell her most days was “You could not organize a pair of gloves, Ana. How do you expect to be able to control chaos? I’m not even convinced you have any chaos in you.” She turned away, calling the five other girls out of the lightning tower, some of whom had ampules filled with crackling white light. The rest were in various states of injury from singes to limps. Anathema…well, she had nothing. The lightning didn’t come near her. She left the tower without a prize, but filled with shame, uninjured from the typical failed attempt. She didn’t know why it was worse, but it very much was.

It took her years to finally get over that day.

Her first assignment the brotherhood sent her on was, well, it hardly mattered now, because the city, the whole kingdom was now rent by some foul beast. She’d been sent to help. But had arrived too late. She heaved one of her deeper sighs. “Fuck.” She let out audibly. She’d have to make camp. For the third night. At least. Maybe it was the fifth. She wasn’t certain. But it seemed like too long. She dismounted her chestnut mare, Clove, and started to get her supplies down for her modest tent. Modest, meaning that it appeared modest to the casual observer.

Inside, however, when she’d cast her enchantments, it was almost like home, complete with a full bed, soaking tub, fireplace, table, chairs, and a lovely lounge with a settee and chaise. One of her favorite things about Magic was being able to pack heavy while still traveling light. She was even able to bring a small book collection.

She’d just finished setting everything up and was casting the necessary protective enchantments to the perimeter of her site when she heard a rustle in the bushes about twenty yards away. She attempted to remain calm, but was terrified. She carried only a small silver dagger and a steel short sword that she rubbed with a silver infused oil which she made when she came across good silver and decent tallow. It wore off, but the silver oiled blade was a good compromise when you couldn’t carry both silver and steel. What was she, a fucking Witcher? Anyway, she drew her dagger, but conjured a revelatory wall around her so she could see who or what was out there hunting her. She prayed it wasn’t a kikimore. Anything but a kikimore, she thought. Those shits gave her the creeps. Give her an iron toothed wyvern, or the king of dragons, himself. She could conjure in battle against the best of beasts born of magic, but those insects…no.

There came a keening howl unlike anything she’d ever heard. A drowning scream that almost sounded like it was coming from under the water. Then too many pairs of glowing green eyes started appearing from said bushes. They were horrifying lizard-fish people. And they were walking toward her camp. It would be all too soon that they would walk through the invisibility shield as she hadn’t been able to cast any deflective measures yet. They’d breach her camp in minutes if she didn’t act. She prepared to cast a fire spell on them, hoping that would work, when she heard a deep male voice behind her growl an order.

“Get down! Hide!” Pardon me? She thought. This guy didn’t know who he was dealing with.

It appeared though that she didn’t, either.

The voice had come from a very tall and amply muscled horseman. He wore no armor, only a dark linen tunic tucked into leather breeks, and tall black boots. All was weathered and smelled heavily of horse, ale, and sweat. He quickly dismounted in that way that some men do in which they swing their leg over the horse’s head instead of around the rear. This was the way that, even in her terror, made her feel an unfamiliar but pleasant stirring in the pit of her stomach.

His hair, which she had presumed blonde at first, she noted now to be silvery grey, and well past his shoulders. Maybe longer than her own. He grabbed a sword from the large sheath on his saddle and stalked toward the oncoming rabble of sodden predators.  

She thought…she might have been mistaken but she was fairly sure he’d grabbed a steel sword. Steel would not be very effective on these monsters, if she had sized them up right. She looked to his saddle, seeing the hilt of another blade there. She stepped toward it and slid it out to reveal that this was precisely what had happened. He’d grabbed the wrong weapon in his haste. Well. He was dead. She grabbed the silver sword, sheathing her dagger, and marching toward the scrum around the well-meaning muscle head.

“Selectum ignitus!” She chanted as she wrought her hand in the corresponding motion. This spell burned only victims she chose, leaving others unharmed. It had only stunned these creatures, but it was enough time to allow her would-be hero to catch a small break from his blunder. His thick neck was still in the spindly clutches of one of the largest fish men, apparently less susceptible to fire than the others. Ana stepped up behind him, and with the silver sword, sliced his head clean off at the neck.

“Here.” She said as she tossed him the weapon, the steel sword somewhere on the forest floor to be found later. “They’re waking back up.”

“Mmm.” He mumbled. Right. He was welcome. All this gratitude was just making her blush.

They fought well together, surprisingly. She with her magic and dagger, and he with his signs and sword. She could feel it when he cast them. She noticed him using Aard, so she started casting more similar spells herself. The skirmish was over in minutes. All of the beasts had fallen and she looked at her newfound comrade, both of them covered in blood and muck.

“That was…fun!” She said, in earnest.

“Hmm.” He responded. As if to say, sure, whatever, freak. And began hovering over the corpses, rummaging in his satchel.

“So…these handsome fellows. I’ve never come across them.” She waited a beat, hoping he’d just answer her, knowing that’s what she meant for him to do. Oh, okay. This wasn’t the kind of guy he was. Fair. “What are they?”

“Drowners. Bigger ones are called drowned dead. They come out of the nearby bodies of water.”

How nice. Surely she wouldn’t have any nightmares about that. She'd heard of drowners, as a coastal dweller, but had been fortunate enough to never see one. Until tonight.

“And…not that it’s my business, but…you’re doing what exactly?”

He sighed. “These remains have a lot of useful potion ingredients. I never waste a kill if I can help it. Ginatz’s Acid doesn’t grow on trees, does it?”

“No tree I’ve ever seen, no.” She laughed. He didn’t. Well. This guy would just be a barrel of fun, it seemed. But he did just try to save her life. She should attempt to repay him that kindness. Even if he failed a bit at first, she didn’t know what she would have done if he hadn’t been there.

“Hey, I have a few more spells to do before my camp is fortified for the night, but then I was going to have some dinner in my tent. I have plenty, if you’d like to join. As a thank you for helping me tonight.”

“Camp?”

“Tempora Portia.” She swept her arm down to create a window in the cloaking spell so he could see her camp in the clearing.

He saw the small tent, that looked as though barely two people could lie down in it, much less sit for a meal.

He eyed her warily. “I think you’ll be lucky enough to eat in there by yourself with just a bowl and a spoon.”

“Ever heard of not judging a book by its cover?” She asked. “Trust me. I have a plump pheasant, some really delicious herbs I got on the way here from Aretuza, and some lovely wine! I’ve been saving it until I got here to share with the court, but…” she looked sheepishly at the ruined city on the hillside. “You’re clearly the only surviving citizen, Sir….”

“Geralt. Just Geralt. I’m not a citizen. I was commissioned to come here, just as you were. Only I was sent by…the neighbors…to eliminate the threat before it reached them, too.”

“Right. Geralt. I’m Anathema of Velena. Nice to meet you, and thank you for saving my life tonight.”

“Anathema, thanks for saving mine. And I guess, I’ll take you up on dinner.”

~~~~~~

She told him to finish his scavenging, and cast a charm onto him and his horse, Roach, to allow them to enter through her custom enchantments.

When she was finished securing her campsite, she went inside her tent to clean up. She conjured lots of warm fragrant water into her copper tub. It would have been more relaxing had she not been covered in the muck of battle. The drowner guts were slimy like fish entrails on her skin and in her hair. She was fairly certain that she also had blood from both her own wounds and Geralt’s spattered across what skin had been exposed during the fight.

She reached for her sponge and a bar of soap that smelled of lilac, one of her favorites, and scrubbed until all of the muck, mud, and blood was gone from her skin and hair.

She felt a telltale shudder come from the perimeter of her camp, indicating that her would-be rescuer and his steed had stepped through them. She had put up sheer modesty curtains somewhat arbitrarily, but today she was glad for them. She had just stepped out of the tub and was fully naked when Geralt entered.

“Erm.” He cleared his throat simultaneously announcing his presence and asking if he could come in. She must applaud him for his excellent communication skills.

“Come on in, I’ll be right there.”

She donned a simple, modest wrap dress that went well beyond the duty of a bath robe and looked infinitely more chic, and piled her damp, dark hair into a messy coil high on her head.

“So glad you could join me. Did you get everything you wanted from the creatures?”

“Everything they could give me. Yes.”

“Good. Well, I’ve not started dinner yet, but it won’t be very long. Why don’t you have a bath? You look like you’ve been riding for weeks with no sleep and you’re caked in the muck of a dozen battles like the one we were just in. I’ll clean and mend your clothes, too.”

“I’m fine thank you.”

“Oh, please? You’ll enjoy dinner so much more if you’re not concerned with how you smell…plus my table isn’t so big that…I couldn’t smell you too.” She giggled. “So as a courtesy to your cook and table mate?”

She looked at him with her doe eyes. Maybe that would work. She loved helping people and making them feel better. She thought he was restraining a smirk. He complied with a grunt and a nod.

“Splendid. I’ll get you some wine, too. I love wine with a bath! Don’t you!?”

“That and silence.” Point taken. She’d let him relax.

He stood in the corner of the bathing alcove as she conjured bath water for him.

“Agua fragra fieretta.” she spoke, and the tub filled with steamy water that smelled like spearmint, cedar, and a hint of lavender. Her own had smelled so different. She hadn’t realized it seemed to change depending on who you were drawing the bath for, never having done so for anyone but herself.

She dug around for a sandalwood soap and a new sponge and set them out for him on the small side table.

“Here you are. I’ll be right back with your penis! I mean, woah. Sorry.” She had turned around at the wrong moment. She knew he’d been taking off his shirt when she was rummaging. But she assumed modesty would mandate that he wait for her to leave before removing his trousers. She had been mistaken. He stood there as naked as the day the midwife pulled him from his mother, hands on his hips just like it was the most blasé thing to ever happen.

“It’s fine. I don’t really think about being shy anymore. Sorry. My clothes are on that stool if you want them. Thanks.”

“Right, great. I’ll be right back with a towel and wine. That’s what I was going to say before. And yeah, then I’ll see what I can do for those clothes.”

She left, procured the wine and a towel, and hurried back, placing the cup audibly on the table so she didn’t have to speak to him. She was so embarrassed. She grabbed his clothes and sat them on the settee for later. She was somehow both glad and disappointed that he did not acknowledge her.

Now, she needed to work on dinner. She’d gotten a lovely pheasant this afternoon with her bow. She’d been gathering fragrant herbs of all kinds along her journey and had traded some of them at market for potatoes, carrots, garlic and pearl onions. She prepped the pheasant, stuffing it with the vegetables, herbs, and some salt and pepper, and rubbed it down on the outside with some olive oil and seasoning. She placed it in her camp oven to cook in the infused oil and its own juices, basting it every so often.

She magically cleaned and mended Geralt’s clothes and tried unsuccessfully not to think about the body that they covered. His arms were as thick as the average man’s legs and his legs were not unlike tree trunks, albeit much more shapely. His chest was monolithic with two great pecs and six well-defined abs. He was also perfectly hairy. No one would confuse him with a bear, but this was definitely no boy. No boy, at all. And Mother Melitele herself would weep at the sight of the cock on this man. Long. At least halfway down his thigh. She didn’t get that good a look, but she thought it was veiny. And it was definitely thick…although she couldn’t compare it to much. To anything, really. Not even the instruments used on her the day she ascended to her current state of perfection. She'd been given powerful herbs to sedate her until the transformation was complete.

She’d arrived at Aretuza a sluggish and overweight wallflower with tiny breasts. When she went over her desires for her new form with the “miracle worker” as she liked to call him, she asked him to upgrade her in every way he could, but to keep her eyes the same shade of green they’d always been. She’d felt that the eyes were too directly attached to the soul and to change them was going too far. The rest, however, was fair game.

And this was her first assignment since her ascension, so she hadn’t been anywhere but her home, which was an unforgiving place, and Aretuza. Little opportunity for romance had presented itself. And she wasn’t even sure how romance would go for her at this point. Were mages adored for their power? Beauty? Or who they were as people independent of those attributes? Was that all she was now? A beautiful magician? She suddenly felt a small pang of regret.

Her eyes shifted involuntarily now to the bath partition. Must have been the movement she caught out of the corner of her eye. Geralt was taking a drink of wine, a very long drink, and when he set the goblet back down, he leaned his head back with a contented sigh. She took the clothes back to the stool when she’d finished, smiled at the scarred, and incredibly heroic man before her, and popped away to finish dinner.

~~~~~~~

She busied herself setting the table with modest candles, and conjuring an extra setting for Geralt. She filled a pitcher with an “agua potum” spell and put her wine vessel out. As she was tabling the pheasant, her eye caught movement again in the “bath room.” Geralt had gotten out of the tub and was drying off. His back was no less impressive than his front and his ass was like a fresh, crisp apple. She’d always loved apples. In her dreamy haze, she'd come too close to the hot camp oven and burned her hand. She let out a whispered but audible “fuck” and brought her hand quickly to her mouth to cool the fire with saliva.

It helped a little, but not much. She continued to prepare as Geralt got dressed and he was out right as dinner was on, wine goblet in hand.

“Smells nice.” He complemented. She was shocked, but still in a lot of pain from the burn.

“It better be the best fucking thing I’ve eaten in ages to make it worth searing the skin off my finger here!” She put her hand to her mouth again, and brought it out, shaking it.

He sat his goblet on the table and went outside, all without a word. She was confused. Wondering how she could have offended him, but honestly, not really caring. She’d tried. She sat down. Exhausted. He came back in with the satchel he’d been wearing and packing with solutions from those corpses.

He walked around the table to kneel in front of her, held out his hand, and raised his eyebrow expectantly. She gave him her injured hand, extending her index finger to indicate the affected area.

“You know, I’ve seen men lose half their faces to fire. This isn’t so bad.” He rifled through the bag for a vial of clear oil with bits of purple floating in it.

“Did they live?” She asked, amused.

“A few.” He smirked, dabbing a small amount of the oil onto his index finger and applying it to hers.

Her relief was instant and evident on her face.

“Wow, that feels so much better. Thank you! What is that?”

“A simple infusion. Oil of lavender. Here.” He gave her the vial.

“Oh I couldn’t.”

“Take it. I make more all the time. It’s damn near free. I’ll show you how, too, so you're prepared for next time. It’s essential for a healer’s kit. Many uses.” These were more words than she’d heard him speak all together since they’d met. She decided not to remark upon it.

“Well thank you. I hope you’re hungry! I think the pheasant is ready to be torn!”

They filled their plates with juicy, savory sections of the bird and large chunks of the vegetables that had become pleasantly tender inside it. Thyme and rosemary, onion and garlic danced off the tongue, complimented by the salt and a dash of ground peppercorn for zest. For once, a meal tasted even better than it had smelled and she had forgotten the terror of the fight with the drowners, the pain of her burn, even the startling sight of the naked man in her tent, and relaxed into the pleasure of a delicious meal.

This is one of the reasons I was fat before, she told herself. And made sure she stopped eating before she'd filled herself to gluttony.

She noticed that her companion was eating…enthusiastically. She was on the verge of saying ravenously, but there was an element of refinement to it that forbade her from using the more savage descriptor. He seldom drank, and most rarely from his water cup.  He liked the wine, then. She liked this fellow. Quite a lot. He stabbed large portions onto his fork and put them easily into his wide mouth. But even though he took larger bites, he did take his time in chewing, savoring the succulent food. She appreciated this from him.

"You're going to have to finish the poor bird off. I'm stuffed." she patted her tummy, demure now, as it had never been in her recent memory.

"Hmm." he grunted in protest. This one she couldn't quite translate past general disagreement.

"What?" she prodded.

"We both know you didn't need any help taking down this bird alone. Even with the vegetables. It's all incredible, by the way. Best meal I've had in ages."

"First of all, thank you, I quite liked it too, and secondly, it's called restraint. Ever heard of it?" she sassed him back.

"I've heard of it, yes. Can't say we've ever crossed paths, though." he held her gaze as he drank deeply from his goblet. Was it suddenly warmer in the tent?

"Well, it might be a good idea to seek it out here and there." she said, hiding well the feathers he'd just ruffled. "Food and I have a volatile history. I have to show restraint or all of this is gone." she indicated her physical form. She hadn't truly intended to make him look at her, but he was. He was holding her in his gaze in a way that was utterly alien to her.

"Mmm." he grunted, as if to express his understanding.

"But enough about me. What about you? It's not every day I meet a witcher!"

His amber eyes met hers, inscrutable, but not pleased.

"You knew."

"Of course I knew. I have eyes and ears, and all kinds of senses working. And all of them caught wind of what you were the moment you dismounted your horse."

"And yet you helped me. Fought with me. Saved me."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Most people don't want a witcher around. They'd prefer the monsters we kill. Even when we're summoned to communities, invited, we're a pariah until the job is done. We're seen as the…lesser evil."

"Tell me Geralt. Did you make the choice to become a witcher?"

"No."

"Do you think I made the choice to be a conduit?" This question, he didn't answer. She thought he may not know. She decided then to tell him her story. How she came to be a mage, and the hell she went through to get where she was.

"Do you know what my nickname was as a child? It wasn't anything cute, like a vegetable or fruit or a baked good, or even a cuddly little creature, no. No term of endearment would suit me. I was called 'Rat.' Because you see, as I mentioned, I have a complicated past where food is concerned, and this comes from my youth. When I would sneak into the pantries and steal food. My mother and the staff thought at first there was a large rat, or even a raccoon behind the lost inventory, for at first, I left behind traces and made a mess of things. But after a while, I got good. Covered my tracks. Then mother started blaming the staff. Beating them, then firing most of them. No one seemed to notice how fat I was getting. Me being the middle of five girls. Eldest two sisters already married off to wealthy business men from town and bringing the bratty little grandchildren around, the younger girls learning dance and music, and generally being full of charm. I was in the background. Until one night, mother found me. She was searching the pantry for a tonic for indigestion when she saw me burrowing, trying to hide between sacks of potatoes. She hauled me out and dove for a long wooden spoon on the worktop in the kitchen. She beat me bloody with that spoon. I couldn't sit and could hardly walk for days."

She took a drink from her goblet, fortifying her. She didn't tell this story often. In fact, she hadn’t told anyone but her best friend Codrick, the blacksmith's apprentice. And that had taken many years.

"She started giving me smaller portions at dinner. Insisting that I wouldn't find a husband in my current state and threatening to sell me to a brothel if I didn't marry in good time. I was nearly starving, but still not getting thin fast enough to satisfy her. She made me run around the perimeter of our grounds. If I wasn't back in time, she'd set our wild bull out after me. There were a few times I was nearly gored. But I kept sneaking into the cupboards late at night. They were locked now, but once I told Codrick what was happening, he helped me by forging me a spare key. She kept calling me 'Rat' which was interesting. As if the sneaking and stealing was the more deplorable side of me than my actual size. She never called me 'Pig.' Perhaps because at least pigs had a use. Pigs could be sold or slaughtered for food. Rats were just a nuisance. The last time she caught me, she hauled me into the kitchen and reached for her wooden spoon again. But this time, when she reared back to strike at me, the spoon had turned into a vicious raven. It squalled and flailed and she let go of it, shooing it away. But it didn't relent. It clawed and pecked at her head and face until her hair was patchy and ragged and her face was a bloody mess. One eye was completely gone, the other, likely to be lost. But she could see well enough to tell where the raven landed after it had left her alone. Right beside me, as if it was trying to calm my still quivering form."

"So that was your conduit moment?" Geralt asked, knowing the answer.

"Yes. Lady de Vries showed up at our door not a moment too soon. The Madame from the local brothel had just agreed to my mother's price. There was a rather tense moment where the money had already changed hands and Tissaia had to threaten both women with rather unpleasant repercussions. She was having me and there would be no arguments. Actually, though, the whole experience of being fought over gave me the confidence I needed to confess my true feelings to Codrick and kiss him before we left the town. I'd fancied him for years but never had the guts to tell him."

"I'm sure you have a point to telling me this life story of yours." Geralt said, patiently, but clearly ready for her to wrap it up.

"Right. Sorry. My point is, most of us that are born or imbued with magic have some story like this. I'm certain you're no different. I could go on with horrors at Aretuza, too, just like I'm sure you could with stories of…where was it you were trained? Kaer Morhen?"

He looked at her skeptically.

"Wolf amulet around your neck. School of the Wolf. I thought that was Kaer Morhen."

"Mmhmm." oh, a two syllable grunt. His vocabulary was proving vast.

"Why shun you over a life you didn't choose? And if I have a fucked up past too, and I'm still dealing with that trauma, what right would I have to dismiss you or consider you an unworthy brother in arms? Or dinner companion? Or maybe even travel companion? After all, we fought well together and we don't know what's out there laying waste to the countryside."

"Suppose you're right."

"About which part?" this always happened to her as someone who never shut up. She never knew whether "you're right" was a blanket statement covering an entire monologue, or just certain parts that someone wanted to subscribe to.

"The first part. I'm still not sure about traveling companions. Or mages, if I'm honest. No offense."

"None taken. If it makes you feel better, I'm still very new to being a mage. I don't have any bad mage habits. I'm not even that good of a mage. I had to hand assemble this tent before I spelled it."

"Well, you did a fine job." he chuckled. "It looked…sturdy, from the outside."

"That's what I was going for. And why don't you just…try me for this expedition. I'll sign a contract saying that it's not your fault if I die. Not that anyone would care. Plus, we'll live in luxury every night, and I can make anything taste delicious with bare minimum ingredients."

"Tempting, but won't it be a little…cozy with both of us in here?"

She looked at him, incredulous.

"Remember the part where I'm a mage?" she walked over to the sitting area and contorted her hands toward the wall. "Addendum Sanctorum."

She beckoned him through a new flap in the canvas to a modest, but still accommodating room with a large, plush bed, a few sturdy, simple chairs, a small table, and a bathing area of its own, complete with a stash of sponges, soaps, and towels.

"See? It may not be all of the comforts of home, but it's hardly roughing it compared to the alternative, am I wrong?" She turned to look at him, but he was much closer than she'd expected him to be. She looked directly up into that piercing amber gaze that was unlike any she'd seen before. And he looked so…dangerous. And yet she wasn't afraid. At least not primarily. What she was mostly feeling was desire. She wanted those strong, skilled hands to touch her. She wanted to be held. She hadn't been held since she was a child. And a very young one, at that. She could feel something mutual coursing between them. And that was the thing that terrified her. The thought that he might be hungry for her in that way. He ran his hand along the slope of her temple and cheek down to her chin.

"I don't recall saying I'd mind sharing a cozy space with you, Ana."

TBC in Part Two

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #geralt #geralt of rivia #the witcher #netflix #netflix the witcher #geralt x ofc #geralt fanfic #geralt of rivia x ofc #smut to follow #i promise

[mlovesstories]

Feeling the Burn Part 5

Warnings: active self-harm, cussing, therapy, emotional issues

Words 2300

AN- Tough stuff, guys.  Read the warnings. 

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“You have a what?” Danneel brought everyone water as she sat down next to Jensen across the table from YN.

“Half-brother.  Are you mad at me?” YN looked down and rang her hands together.

“No, of course not,” Danneel stared at Jensen, telling him to calm down.  

“I think we are just confused as to why you didn’t say anything.  You’ve been with us for over a year.”

“Look, I don’t expect you to understand.” YN huffed.

“But we want to.  You just have to give us a chance.”

“He never liked me, always treated me like crap when I was younger, so I just stayed away.  Learned to do that early.  Kenyan was always in trouble at school.  My parents didn’t know what to do with him.  I think he was the main reason they started drinking and being stupid.  I couldn’t go out or have fun with my friends because they assumed I was out drinking or doing drugs like he was.  So, I got a job and stayed at the library as much as possible.”

“Hence your good work ethic,” Jensen smiled.

“I try,” YN shrugged. “Kenyan would follow me or sabotage stuff for me.”

Danneel gasped.

“What?” Jensen turned to her suddenly.

“Those notes that were left.  Maybe he wrote them.”

“What notes?”  YN squinted.

“Someone left me notes about how you were a terrible employee.  We tried to find out who was doing it, but then it stopped.”

“I’m gonna kill him.” YN growled. ��

“Let the detective take care of him.  He chose to destroy your life.  Don’t let him do it anymore.  You need an appointed security guard.  Anywhere you go.”

“Oh, Jensen.  No.  He wouldn’t actually hurt me.”

“Sweetie, he almost killed Jensen.” Danneel tried to calm the girl down.  

“I’m not having a warden.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Oh, shut up, you two.” Danneel slammed a towel down on the counter.  “Look, you are in potential danger.  I know the fire happened a while ago.  Why don’t we make a compromise.  You check in when you go somewhere.  If you are somewhere other than school for more than two hours, you check in.  Deal?”

“Dee, we need to be more vigilant than that-”

“No.  We are not going to change her life around.  If we don’t hear from her, we’ll call the detective.”

“Fine,” Jensen rolled his eyes.  

_________

“She hasn’t texted me back.” Danneel ran into the living room.  “I texted her ten minutes ago.”

Jensen whipped out his phone and called YN.

“Yeah?”

“ANSWER YOUR PHONE!” Jensen yelled.  “You were supposed to respond ten minutes ago.”

“I’m sorry,” YN whispered.  “I’m working.”

“I don’t care.  You text us back!” Jensen slammed the phone down on the couch after hanging up.

“Jensen!” Danneel yelled at him.  

“I’m going to go give her a piece of my mind,” Jensen stood from the couch and started to walk toward the door.

“Jensen Ackles!” Danneel stepped in front of him.  He froze.  “You better cool it right now!” He took a deep breath.  “My gosh, Jensen.  She missed one check-in.  And she was working.”

“He BURNED me! I could have die-” Jensen’s face dropped.  His wife recognized the expression on his face, and she closed the space between them.  

“I know,’ she whispered.  “But you’re here.  With me.  You’re okay.” Danneel felt something wet on her cheek.  “You didn’t tell me how much this has been bothering you.”

________

YN slowly entered the house.  Danneel and Jensen looked up at her.  She bit her lip and faced them.

“I’m sorry.” YN clasped her hands together behind her back.  “You’ve been crying.  I’ve never had someone do that over me before.  You’re crying because I didn’t listen, right?”

“No.  Come here,” Jensen sat up straight.  YN sat on the arm of the chair next to him.  “I’m not mad at you.  I realized I am dealing with the fire in a not-so-good way.  And I took it out on you.”

“You’re cutting?” YN looked at his collarbone.  

“What?  No.  I took out my anger on you.  Are YOU cutting?” Jensen asked, surprised by her thought process.

“I used to, not anymore.  And you have been cutting.  I saw it on your hips the other day when you were going to work out.  Your collarbone has marks on it too.”

“Jensen?” Danneel leaned back to see him.  “Really?” She asked softly.

“No, I-.” He took a deep breath.

“How come I didn’t notice?” Danneel said to herself.

“He hid them.  Probably told you they were scratches from fight scenes would be my guess.” YN surmised.  

Jensen looked up at her with sad eyes.  

“Good job, ladies.  You found out my secret.” The man sighed and stood up, exiting and leaving the girls on the couch.  Danneel’s eyes were watery.

“I promise he will be okay,” YN scooted to be closer to Danneel. “I struggled with it for a long time.  If we can help him now, he can fight it.” She opened her arms to the older one.

After a few minutes, Danneel sat up from being in YN’s arms.  

“You’re amazing,” Danneel smiled and wiped her last tear away.  

“Not really, just been through some stuff.”

________

Danneel walked into the master bedroom.  She found Jensen standing in front of their bathroom mirror.  

“Can I see?” Danneel walked behind him and wrapped her arms around him.  Jensen sighed, feeling defeated. He slowly unbuttoned his long-sleeved plaid shirt. Danneel walked next to him to see the marks on his body.  “Ouch,” Danneel said under her breath.  Danneel ran her fingers over the long, thin lines on his chest.  “These are newer,” she met his eyes.  Danneel saw tears about to spill over.  “No more of that.  No more tears today.  Let’s talk.” She turned him to face her.  “Why?”

________

“Why are you here, Mister Ackles?”

Jensen leaned back against his seat, sighed and crossed his arms.  

“Ah, you’re gonna be a hard one to crack, huh?” Dr. Brown grinned.  

“I’m only here because my foster daughter threatened to not go to her own counseling sessions if I didn’t come here,” he answered through gritted teeth.  

“You must love her very much.”

“Don’t placate me,” Jensen stated.  

“Just making a comment, Mister Ackles.  Not everyone has an agenda.  So, Cowboys, huh?”

“What?”

“You’re lanyard,” Dr. Brown nodded to Jensen’s keys on the side table.

“Oh, yeah.  Best team in the league.  Even when they aren’t,” Jensen smiled.  

________

“Stop it.”

“No, answer me.  How did it go?  You don’t have to give me specifics.  Are you glad you went?”  YN followed Jensen toward his room.

“I told him I only went because you made me,” he refused to look at her.

“And because you want to get better,” YN reinforced.  As they entered the master bedroom, she stopped right inside the door.  “Where is it?”

“Where is what?”

“The razor.”

“No.  I’m not having a moment with you.”

“You want to get better?  Give it to me. I don’t want you having it unsupervised.”

“I’m not giving it to you.  You’ve cut too.”

“Then let’s throw it away.  Go get it,” she weakly smiled.  

“Fine,” he sighed.

________

“Mister Ackles,” Dr. Brown started.

“What? What do you want?  Can I leave now?”

“Well, yeah.  I mean, you’re the one showing up here.”

“Great.” Jensen said matter-of-factly. He stood up to exit.

“BUT-,” The doctor stopped Jensen.  “If you leave, I’m assuming you won’t go to another psychologist, and therefore you won’t get better.  Do you want to-”

“Yes! Yes, I do want to get better.” Jensen shouted.

“If you are going to remain in here, you are going to be quiet and not disturb the other clients in this building,” the doctor said deeply.  “Furthermore, that’s not what I was going to say.  Are you going to stay and try or are you going to interrupt me and then I kick you out?”

Jensen quietly looked away from the doctor and walked back to his seat on the couch.

“What I was going to say was: do you want to play a game for me to get to know you, or would you rather start telling me about yourself?  I still don’t know your motivation for coming other than your foster daughter said you should.”

“Whatever.” Jensen gave in.  “Look, my foster daughter, YN, and I saw some scary shit.  We made her go see her school counselor.  I didn’t think I was affected by it.  I blew up at her after she ignored our rules to keep her safe because of what happened.  Well, sort of.  I was stressed, and I had been thinking about what happened.”

“Sounds terrible.  Do we need to get to know each other more before you tell me?” Dr. Brown readjusted his shirt and waited.  

“Someone kidnapped her.  We found her, but then the guy got killed because he came at us with a knife.  Cop shot him.  Cop said to get down, so we dropped to the ground.  I covered her so that she wouldn’t get hurt.”  Jensen put his head in his hands.  

“Ah.  Yeah, that’s pretty messed up,” Dr. Brown agreed.  “It wouldn’t also have anything to do with that, would it?”

Jensen looked down to see the small scars on his skin.

“How’d you know?”

“Saw the news when the fire happened.  I recognized you from the news report.  Apparently you’re famous.”

“To some people, I guess.” Jensen sat up straighter.  “Yeah, okay, fine.  That’s the real reason why I freaked, okay?”

“And what does a fire that you were injured in have to do with YN?”

The doctor saw Jensen take in a deep breath and not let it out.

“Let’s try something else.  What do you like to do for fun?”

“Umm.  I like to box, hang out with my wife. I’ve run a few marathons.”

“Good.  You have some good coping skills.”

“I sound like a freaking science experiment.”

“No, you sound like you have some positive ways of dealing with stressors.  How’re the Cowboys doing this season?”

“Eh.  I just watch it right now to fall asleep to.”

“That’s what I use it for too,” the doctor smiled. “Tell me about YN.  She seems to have an impact on you.”

Jensen went on to explain YN’s history and what he knew about her. He told the doctor that YN had been through a lot, and she was seeking help.

“She is the hardest working kid I’ve ever seen.  Sad thing is, it comes from a terrible place.  YN had to be perfect at home.  We never put that pressure on her.  If anything, we try to get her to relax.  I’m hoping seeing the counselor will help.”

“Wow.  I can see the connection you have.  She is a lucky girl to have you and your wife…” he looked at Jensen’s file.  “Danielle?” Jensen laughed.

“Danneel,” he smiled.  

“Right,” the doctor nodded.  

________

So how’d it go?” Danneel wrapped her arms around her husband as she snuggled into him on the couch.  

“Okay.  I don’t like it, but YN-”

“If I have to go, so do you,” YN walked in and crash-landed to the couch next to Jensen.  

“How’s it going for you?” Danneel looked beyond Jensen to see YN.

“Okay,” YN said quietly.  

“Yeah, not so easy to talk about, huh?” Jensen growled.

“Oh, shut up, Jensen!” YN screamed and stood up.  “You’re not too good for this.  You almost burned to death.  Let’s be real.  And we saw someone die in front of this.  No big deal or anything.  Stop being an ass about it, and do the work!  You’re turning into my dad with your attitude and the way you treat me! No thanks! When I turn eighteen, I’m out of here!”

“YNN-“ Jensen sighed, defeated.

—————-

“You cut?”

“How did you know too?” Jensen rolled his eyes. “You gonna tell the world? Everyone seems to know.”

“You’re crossing your arms, wearing a long sleeve shirt that is Big and Tall. And it’s buttoned up all the way.”

Jensen stared past the doctor.

“Jensen?”

“Oh. Yeah. Fine, yes. Am I going to get in trouble with you too?”

“People don’t get in trouble here. I’m guessing someone found out?”

Jensen explained that YN found out first and then Danneel had been treating him with kid gloves since the girls found out.

“What’d you do with the blade?”

“YN and I threw it out.  She made me walk it to the trash. I didn’t want it in the house for her to find anyway.  She used to self-harm too.”

“Wow. You three are really close.”

“Not anymore. Not after a few days ago. YN won’t even talk to me, and Danneel is acting weird because she found out I was hurting myself. I know she looks me over to see if I’ve done it lately. She doesn’t say anything, but I know she does.”

“Can you blame her?”

“No,” Jensen sighed.

“What happened the other day with YN?”

“I told her I didn’t like coming here and I didn’t want to talk about anything related to therapy, and she flipped out and said I needed to deal with my stuff and just do it. No offense, doc.”

“None taken. I get it. People don’t want to talk about feelings. Psychologists are often the faces of negative feelings.”

“True.”

“Homework,” Dr. Brown smiled.

“No,” Jensen whined.  

“Therapy is work, my friend,” the doctor put his notes to the side.  

“Check on YN two times a day.  Text, call, be in the same room, whatever fits the context.  You don’t even have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

“That’s it?” Jensen squinted at the doctor.  

“You’ll find it’s harder than you might think,” Dr. Brown laughed.  “Go, get out of here.  I know that’s what you’ve been thinking about for the last hour.  You’re free, go home,” Dr. Brown opened the office door to a hallway.  

“Thanks, doc.” 

FEELING THE BURN

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[collecting-stories]

Put it all on Me - Bucky Barnes

A/N: Not requested...just wanted to get back into writing some marvel stuff...it’s a lot stiffer than I would’ve liked but it’s been a while. 😬

///

“Here’s an idea...why don’t you listen to me since I have full visual and you’re compromised instead of insisting that ‘I know what I’m doing’.” You snapped, clicking away at the computer in front of you. Special Ops was not your cup of tea usually but the new system that had been developed required a trained hand. Or rather, you, because you had developed it.  

“I know what I’m doing.”  

“Brilliant.” You rolled your eyes, scanning over the monitors that had been set up in your make-shift control room.  

“I don’t need full visuals, I’ve been doing this since before you were born.”  

“Weirdest things to hear your boyfriend say to you for $500.” You replied and heard Sam laugh through the earpiece.  

“Hey, could you get some of those visuals for me, I’m not afraid to admit when I need help.” Sam commented. You watched through the screen as he shifted positions to look around the corner.  

“At least someone appreciates me,” you joked, pulling up Sam’s camera.  

“Here we go.” Bucky commented and you could practically hear him roll his eyes at you.  

“You’re clear in this room Sam, they’ve got someone stationed up ahead about 100 feet, left corner but there’s no visual for him. You’ll be fine to move.” You said, turning away from his monitor to glance at Bucky’s as you spoke. “You on the other hand-”

“I. Got. It.” Bucky snapped.  

“I know now isn’t exactly ‘the time’ but did something happen that I should be aware of?” Sam asked, silently praying that neither of you actually had an issue. Or at least one that you wanted to talk about. Now really wasn’t the time and he hated playing counselor to your issues.  

“It’s nothing Sam,” you replied, sounding like maybe it was something after all.  

“Nothing? Good to know.” Bucky commented, annoyance in his voice.  

“I didn’t mean, christ Buck, could we not right now?”  

“Oh sure of course. Let’s not at all, how’s that?”  

“Hey, could we maybe get back to the mission at hand?” Sam’s voice cut through your argument.  

The mission, which had you tapping into security cameras in the main building of what Sam believed, according to intel, was housing past members of Hydra attempting to rebuild their ranks. Not something any of you could risk happening. Sam was less than thrilled about the mission and you had shown reluctance to be out in the field, though for good reason. The last time you had engaged in field work had been in Geneva and that had ended with you in the hospital from the fight with Bucky. One he was notably remorseful over.  

It was the going out in the field for this that had him acting so standoffish. A massive argument that ended in you accusing him of not thinking you were capable of fieldwork. Though that was far from his mind.

“Why don’t you just apologize?” Sam attempted, once coms were off and the two of them were debriefing from the mission.  

Bucky shot him a look, the same disgruntled one that Steve used to give him. Sam couldn’t decide who had picked it up from who but it looked fierce nonetheless. The scowl was deep set and Sam was held his hands up in surrender, not regretful that he had broached the topic but understanding that he had asked a little too soon. “I don’t have anything to apologize for,” Bucky finally said. “I was just being honest with her.”

“Honest or paranoid?” He asked.  

“The last time we were out in the field she ended up in the hospital.” Bucky replied.  

“So all those fears you’re projecting on her are yours. And you should be telling her about them...you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bucky nodded.  

“I’m serious man,” Sam said. He knew without a push Bucky would just let things dissolve further until they were irreparable. It was just the way he reacted sometimes.  

Bucky knew Sam was right. You were good at your job and he should’ve told you that you were instead of acting like they were wrong in recruiting you. It was a shitty thing to do and it made him sound like he thought you were incapable of doing field work, something he knew wasn’t true. You were more than capable. And the more he thought about the way he acted the shittier he felt. There was nothing he could do while he was debriefing but afterward, once he’d changed out of the kevlar and showered he headed for his room, hoping that you would be there to talk.  

You were, just where he thought, or hoped, you would be. You were sitting on the bed, reading something on your laptop when Bucky came in and you purposefully didn’t look up. If you were icing him without distancing yourself he could handle that. It meant that however upset, angry, or pissed you were you still wanted to talk to him, be with him.  

“Hey,” he stopped at the foot of the bed, running a hand through his newly shortened hair.  

When he had finally decided that the longer length was bothering him you had offered to cut it for him. You had three younger brothers and your mother had never wanted to spring for haircuts when the four of you were young because she was a hairdresser herself. So you had grown up with a working knowledge of how to cut hair and make it look presentable.  

You had cut his hair post shower, while he sat on the edge of the bathtub, looking incredibly enticing in nothing but a towel. You had gathered the nearly shoulder length hair into your hands and tied it back in a low ponytail so that you could cut off the ends altogether.  

“What if you cut off my ear or something?” Bucky had teased, pulling your hand around so he could kiss your palm.  

“Maybe you could have them make you a vibrainium one.” You joked, fingers running through his hair to section it off. Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling.  

Positive physical interactions had taken him a lot longer to adapt to than he liked admitting. Steve had told him, after he’d first come out cryo, that it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of but that didn’t really make Bucky feel any better. It was frustrating that he flinched from the simplest touch. But in the months that he’d spent in Wakanda and after, once the snap had been reversed, he had improved. Not quite the boy he was in Brooklyn he wasn’t so adverse to affection anymore. Especially not yours. He sought it out, in fact. Smiling now as you kissed the top of his head.  

That was nearly a month ago though. Now you sat, not a foot away, but making no attempt to give him any affection. He could practically feel the cold that was emanating from you.  

“I know you’re pissed about earlier,” He tried again.  

You looked up at him, anger evident, “am I? I built that system Buck...it’s supposed to keep the two of you safe when you’re out there and you wouldn’t listen to a single thing I said!”  

“I’m sorry, I know I was an ass out there.”

“Do you or did Sam tell you that you were?”  

“Both.” Bucky replied, skeptical but also hopeful. You were talking.  

“I don’t like the field and you know that. But I didn’t tell you that so that you could second guess my ability to be out there. You and Sam were in infinitely more danger than I was but that is why I was there. To prevent that danger from turning into something worse. I built that system...I spent months perfecting it and to have you act like you didn’t need my help. What if something happened? If you didn’t listen and something happened? How selfish of you!” You shouted.  

“I didn’t want to make you feel like that I was just annoyed that you had to be out there. I didn’t want you to be.”

“But I was.”  

“I’m sorry.” Bucky sighed, hand going through his hair once more, “I’m just sorry. That I made you feel like I thought you didn’t belong out there. I don’t love you being out there but I know you’re more than qualified. And I won’t underestimate you next time.”

“I just want you to communicate with me next time and not embarrass me in front of Sam or anyone else. I don’t always love what you do but I certainly trust you to do your job well and come home at the end of the night.” You shut your computer and pushed it aside so Bucky could sit on the bed with you. He took your hand in his as you placed a kiss on his shoulder. “I hate fighting with you.”

-

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[fairycosmos]

tried to kill myself last week n slept it off for 24+ hrs before telling my mom. she couldnt take me to the hospital bc we don’t have insurance n my case manager ended up calling dcs /: (ill be 17 next month) rn i feel like theyre waiting for me to say myself i dont wanna live here rather than just removing me bc technically i am safe but im not ready to do that even tho i know i should let them find me help. i feel like theyre waiting for me to mess up to decide themselves. i just feel lost man

oh god, i’m sorry for the late response and that you’re in this position at all, man :( i literally cant imagine how difficult everything must feel right now, and i dont blame you at all for being lost. most 16 yo olds are, but add something like this into the mix, and it’s no surprise that you’re feeling so conflicted and hurt all of the time. i know it hurts to process such vitriolically negative emotions, but it’s also a normal human response. imo, what the real focus should be on, is doing what you can to cope in a healthy or safe way. even if some days, that just looks like crying in your room and waiting for it to pass. but anyway, i want to say that i’m genuinely glad you’re still here, and i hope that one day you can feel that way too. it’s wonderful that you’re alive, and the world would be missing something if you were gone. even if you dont know it right now, and even if you can’t see it in this moment, there is so much growth and positive change waiting in your future. it’s actually inevitable, and nobody really tells you that when you’re a teenager, but it’s kinda true from what i’ve observed. the natural progression of things, the natural process of growing up, makes things feel a lot more manageable. that probably doesn’t feel like a real train of thought to the present day you, but honestly even in the 3 yrs since i was 16, the entire basis of my perspective has changed. especially bc as an adult you’re able to control so much more of your life and the mental health resources that are available to you. it’s all waiting for you, and it’s nothing to be scared of. you dont have to know what to do next and you dont have to have a solid concrete plan. i’m not sure that they’re waiting for you to ‘mess up’, because trying to do what’s right for your own health doesn’t count as ‘messing up’, whatever you decide is okay. it’s a really hard decision to make and i totally understand why you don’t know where to begin. but i think it could help to just have an honest conversation with yourself about what you really need in terms of where you live. try to block out judgement and what you ‘think’ you should do.  where do you see yourself thriving, where you do see your needs being met? where do you see improvement, and guidance? are you able to work with your case manager to figure out some sort of middle ground, some sort of compromise? i get that actually taking such a step is way way easier said than done, but you can take it at your own pace over the course of the next two years while you figure out what would be best for you.

i know you said you don’t have healthcare, and i’m not entirely sure how things work where you are. but do you think it’s possible that there could be a support group for young people in your area, or a mental health center/crisis team, literally anything at all that could lend you some support? maybe you could talk to your case worker about this, too? there could also be someone at school available, like a counselor or even just a teacher you trust. another option is to call a mental health hotline to see what they think your options are. and i know these ideas sound vague, and like theyre impossible to take seriously, but i’d really appreciate it if you gave them some real thought. it’s alright to be scared, but the fear of reaching out literally doesn’t compare to the fear of staying silent and letting this get worse on your own. mental health conditions are just as serious as physical ones and sometimes they need genuine medical attention in order to learn to live with them, and that’s absolutely alright. having someone to talk to who is trained to offer you the tools you need can really make a massive difference. they’ll be able to advise you on what the next step should be, in terms of your personal development. initially saying that you need help out loud is the worst part, sometimes you have to force the words out....but it still counts, every small effort does. i just want you to know that a better future is possible and is much more likely than the awful one you’re envisioning, no matter where you go from here. if you’re unable to receive professional help at this time, then i hope you’re able to engage in healthier coping mechanisms anyway even if they don’t work every time. i’ll leave some links that may be helpful to you when you’re in a low moment. not saying they’re supposed to fix everything, but they’re supposed to calm you down and give you some clarity so you dont make an impulsive decision. i promise you’re capable of pulling yourself back from the brink of sadness, and i promise you’re capable of getting through this. every day you survive, you’re learning how to make it all feel lighter someday. i wouldn’t say any of this if i didn’t believe in you. despite my extremely limited perspective of your life, i can see that you’re smart and you’re young and you just want to find some stability.  the more you focus on yourself and your own well being, even when you want to self destruct, the calmer things will seem. so like i said before, take all the time you need to consider the choices available to you, and then try to get through each day as it comes. if that feels like too much, one hour. minute by minute is more than good enough. im proud of you for surviving and for being the person that you are. if you ever need a friend or if you want to talk, i’ll be here. you’re not as alone as you want to believe, and so many people can relate to your circumstances because they’ve gotten through it. you will, too. you dont have to have it all figured out, that’s not your responsibility. you just have to keep trying and working with what you’ve been given. im rooting for you.

https://www.healthyplace.com/blogs/speakingoutaboutselfinjury/2018/11/immediate-coping-mechanisms-for-self-harm

https://www.helpguide.org/articles/depression/teenagers-guide-to-depression.htm

 https://www.healthista.com/15-daily-self-care-tips-help-depression/

https://bebrainfit.com/stress-management-techniques/

#tw suicide #i think its hard to internalize words of advice when ur in such a negative place but this will always be here for u to refer back to when #ur ready to hear it or consider it #<3

[ourkarlanicoleuniverse]

Sweet Nothing (MHA Staff AU Fanfiction)

Chapter 19 

Warnings: None, swf. 

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x OC (Mai Montoya, Pro Hero Zion) 

If you want to read of the events before this chapter here is the Master List 😊

If I wasn't in the compromising position I was in right now, I swear my reaction to Vlad telling me that the hero course final's practical exam was being changed this year, I would be stomping over to Nezu to give him a piece of my mind.

We were currently sitting on my couch with his bulldog perched up on my lap, snoring his little life away, and Vlad placing my feet in his lap while we were watching a movie. Vlad thought it was best to tell me the news after spending some time with his dog since he knew it would have me in a good mood. How dare he use my love for dogs against me?

"I can't believe this. Why didn't anyone tell the counselors? Wasn't Hounddog in the meeting?" I chastised while lightly caressing the dog's ear.

"You mean, you and Lily? The only two hero course counselors? Because you would both be against it, and Nezu didn't want to deal with the two of you." He said as he lightly massaged my feet.

"Well, he wouldn't have to deal with us if he treated our students like students and not soldiers," I grumbled. The bulldog started to rustle in his sleep, waking up slightly to cuddle further into me. "I think your dog likes me more than you."

"He's just a spoiled baby and likes when he gets attention. Have fun with her while you can buddy, I have her for the rest of the night." I couldn't help but laugh at how he acted with his dog. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before the week off the exam. But I can't say I disagree with Nezu and Aizawa about upping the exams' difficulty. With the recent villain attack and how more and more villains are popping up. Or with how All Might is right now. I can see that we do need to train them more efficiently to be better prepared for the changing world."

"But they're only first-year students. It's a little excessive to me to be putting so much on them so early. I understand the need. I do. I just feel like the pace needs to slow down a bit."

"Midnight said that in the meeting. I'm surprised that you haven't asked what they wanted to do for the practical yet. I figured that would've been the first thing that came to mind." Vlad looked away from the TV to meet my gaze.

"What did they wanted to do?" I let my face fall in disgruntlement.

"They want the teachers to fight the students." He flatly said.

"THEY WHAT?" Vlad aggressively shushed me and pointed to the dog, who was scared awake. I quickly patted the little guy and cooed him, "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie, I didn't mean to scare you. Relax and go back to sleep."

Vlad looked at me for a moment. His eyes were a little unreadable. He then shrugged and spoke a matter-of-factly, "I told you that we didn't tell you and Lily for a reason."

"What am I supposed to do now? Just sit and watch while grown adults fight students?" He nodded in response, "Vlad." No response, "Vlad?" Nothing. "Sekijiro?"

He finally went back to giving me his attention, "Yeah?"

"You really agreed to this?" I pleaded.

"You called me by my first name?" He squinted in confusion, then relaxed, "Yes, I did. They made valid arguments."

I simply hummed and nodded, dropping the subject, not like I can do anything about it. Then I looked at him while he had his attention on the screen in front of us. "Did I cross a line? Was it not okay to call you by Sekjiro?"

"Hmm? No, it's not that. Just didn't expect it, that's all. You rarely call me by it, only Vlad or my family name." He rubbed the back of his neck, he was trying not to show that he was uncomfortable, but the whole room felt different from a minute ago.

"I'm sorry. I should've probably asked first. I just assumed that since-- never mind. If it made you uncomfortable, I'd just call you by Vlad or by your last name until you want me to call you something else." I didn't mean to look so wounded, but I couldn't help the way my voice got quiet and the way I held my chin low. I didn't mean to make things so awkward. Since high school, we've known each other, and now we were sort of dating, so it was a simple mistake—no big deal.

"No, I get it, you assumed that we were close enough... which we are... I.. uh." Vlad struggled to find the words he wanted to say. He moved from his spot on the couch to stand and walk over to me and kissed my forehead, "We are close. I just didn't expect it." He said that, and he looked at me lovingly when he did. But it didn't feel like it was the truth.

I still leaned forward to give him a small peck, "Okay, let's just finish the movie and call it a night." We exchanged smiles and continued the night with the awkwardness hanging above our heads. Luckily I had the dog to distract me.

__________

Midnight was walking into the teacher lounge to find Lily and I waiting for her at her desk. She went from her normal sultry demeanor to a slow and bewildered one, "Yes?"

Lily spoke up first, "So the practical exam was changed, and you were against it but didn't warn us?"

"Who snitched?" Midnight scrunched her face in anguish like a shameless kid that got caught doing something they knew they weren't supposed to do. She slumped and leaned on one foot folding her arms. Her signature whip in hand. "I didn't say anything because I didn't want to look like a whiny, childish colleague to the teachers. Despite my seniority, I still have to pick my battles when I want to be voicing out issues during meetings."

"If it's because you are one of the few women on the teacher's staff, I could definitely whip the men into shape to take you seriously," I reassured her.

"I would've expected for you to have a lot more say than anyone." Lily mirrored Midnight's pose, "But I guess it's different when no one else is backing you up."

"To be fair, I think you guys will be amused with the way we teachers were paired off with the students, especially your students, Mai." Midnight brushed off the topic of the inequity between the men and women staff and moved on to explain how the exam changed.

"Let me guess. You are up against Mineta." I tried to stay serious, but the image of the little weasel being chased around by Midnight was too hilarious not to burst out laughing.

"Don't worry, you two. We'll be tough on them but not too tough. We're going to leave some leeway for them to pass." She put her hands on both of our shoulders in reassurance.

"You better, or you all will have hell to pay." We both glared at her, to which she responded with a giggle.

"Shouldn't you be getting to the examination room with Recovery Girl?" She raised an eyebrow and smirked down at me while I puffed my cheeks and started getting out of her chair.

"Yeah... I really hate that I wasn't allowed to give my students a pep talk before their exams, but Aizawa had them so nervous for this exam that they were more busy studying that I didn't feel comfortable taking their time away from it. Especially when some of them were in dire need of studying. On the bright side, they all mentioned to me that they formed study groups. So I guess it's good that they are relying on each other."

I grabbed my bag and waved them goodbye while walking out of the office to meet with Recovery Girl. The little old lady was waiting in the nurse's office on her little chair. Her feet dangled as she lightly kicked them as I walked in. She then motioned for me to help her down, and we walked off to the examination room.

"You look really comfortable today." She said, noting my outfit. I had some white sneakers on with a mid-length a-line white skirt with a collared shirt underneath my green UCLA sweatshirt. I decided to keep my hair in a fishtail braid with a few hairs framing my face. My glasses sat on top of my head.

"I figured since it was exam day, I wasn't going to need to do a lot of work today." I shrugged and put my glasses on.

"I haven't seen your necklace until now. It's charming." My necklace? My hand went up to reach the silver chain with the small lopsided heart. I've had it for years, rarely do I ever take it off. Sometimes I forget I am even wearing it. Ironically, it was a gift from Aizawa back when we were kids. Despite being detached from him for so long, I still kind of had a piece of him with me.

"Thank you. I wear it all the time, actually."

"You should tell me where you got it. Maybe I'll buy one."

"I wish I could tell you, but I'm afraid I was never told." I smiled wholeheartedly at the little old lady.

We made it to the room, and I opened the door for her, and as she walked in ahead of me, she decided to comment, "Oh, I'm sure Aizawa remembers, I'll ask him." Sometimes I hate her for knowing everything. But hey, that's part of her being the heart of UA.

Soon after we got situated, a few of my students came in to watch their peers during their examination. Specifically, it was Midoriya and Uraraka that walked in along with Aoyama and Bakugo. I'm guessing they were paired off with each other and were going to be tested later. I sat next to Recovery Girl and leaned back in my seat, swiveling side to side as we watched the screen waiting for the exams to begin.

"You seem as anxious as the students, Ms. Montoya." Recovery Girl mentioned as the first match between Sato and Kirishima and Cementoss was about to begin.

"Well, I don't think it was right to change the practical on them, so I am a little nervous. I want them all to pass." I chewed on my bottom lip as I switched to tapping my foot instead.

"If we don't pass, Mr. Aizawa said we don't get to go to the training camp." Uraraka mentioned as she noticed that we were talking about the exam and the students, "I don't know if he was really serious, but it definitely got us wanting to make sure we passed more."

I grimaced, "I really hate how Aizawa adds more pressure on you guys, and he knows it, so it pisses me more off."

"Yes, I don't know why that man is so hard on his students. But I am sure that it is just a ruse." Recovery Girl did her best to reassure the student. "Now, let's watch your classmates."

One by one, each round of fights passed by, poor Kirishima and Sato were the first to fail the practical, which made all of us watching upset. The matches with Tsu and Tokoyami and Iida and Ojiro were nerve-wracking to watch but ended with all four of them winning and meeting back here to watch the rest of the class.

The current match that was about to start was between Todoroki and Momo and Aizawa. I had high hopes for the team, but both Aizawa and I noticed the shift in Momo's confidence after the Sports Festival. So it was hard to see if she was going to trust herself when making decisions in the practical exam. With Todoroki, my main concern was his inability to work with others and strategizing, but hopefully, the two actually work together and beat Aizawa. Lord knows that man isn't going to go easy on them. He lives for these moments where he can strike fear into his students. Not like I am expecting him to purposely fail them though, he's not THAT sadistic. I looked over at the students in the examination room and noticed the worried look on Ochako's face. She was getting more nervous as it got closer to her exam. I couldn't blame her. I haven't seen her and Aoyama really discuss a plan for how they will fight Thirteen. Midoriya was mumbling strategies to himself, oblivious to his friend's silent mental turmoil. "Ochako, sweetheart, why don't you come over here and watch the round with me?"

She slightly jumped, surprised at my sudden suggestion, but then shuffled her way over to me with a nervous smile.

"You okay? You seem like the nerves are eating away at you?" I swiveled to face her and placed my elbows on my knees and my chin on my hands as I looked up at her.

"Honestly? I am not okay, but I don't know how I am going to make a plan when my partner doesn't try to communicate with me and just focuses on how their suit looks." She looked glumly at her partner, who was still focusing on his reflection rather than the screen.

I looked at Aoyama, too, with my eyebrows scrunching together, trying to find the words to help her. "To give you some advice, you just have to smack some sense to them, but verbally, I'm not saying to smack Aoyama literally, but tell him upfront that he needed to take this exam seriously just like it was a real-life situation. Only then can you guys can collaborate. And don't worry about not having a plan at this current moment. It's always good to get used to thinking on the spot because you will rarely have time to plan before dealing with villains on the field."

She nodded with a slight pout, which reminded me how Midoriya would listen to me. I was about to continue speaking when Recovery Girl's voice spoke up, "It looks like Yaoyorozu and Todoroki aren't collaborating well, Todoroki got tied up, and she's running off."

Once she spoke up, we decided to keep the focus on the screen, Ochako quietly saying, "I'll take your advice, maybe I'll be able to make up some last-minute plan with Aoyama as we walk to our exam. Thank you, but I think I'll go back with Deku if you don't mind." I waved her off with a warm, reassuring smile as she walked back to her spot next to Midoriya.

As we watched the match, Recovery Girl and I kept making quiet remarks about the students and Aizawa. "I think Aizawa is going easy on them. I think he noticed that their plan shouldn't work if their timing is off." I noted.

"It looks like they figured out that Aizawa needs longer breaks between moments he uses his quirk after his injuries." Recovery Girl pointed, and I nodded in agreement. Eventually, the two students managed to capture Aizawa and won the match, and the students with us were filled with joy and relief, watching them win. I couldn't help but giggle a little. I feel like they were happier to see Aizawa get his ass beaten than just seeing their peers pass. "My, my, I guess that man is a big softie after all." Recovery Girl gleamed out loud and then smirked at me, lowering her voice again, "Not like I am surprised, I remember how he was in high school."

I decided to tease the grump and texted him a congratulations message, not really expecting a response.

Me

You sure like to give your students handouts for someone who likes not to give handouts to his students. Thank you for not failing Momo and Todoroki. They really needed the win. Counselor Montoya approves! 👍🏻💕

Grumpy Caterpillar 🐛🐱

Shut up. I wasn't going easy on them.

Me

Yes, you were. It's okay to admit you care about them. I won't tell anyone and ruin your reputation. Scouts honor! 😇🤞🏻

Grumpy Caterpillar 🐛🐱

🙄

Me

😱YOU USE EMOJIS?! SINCE WHEN?!

Grumpy Caterpillar 🐛🐱

I'm putting you on Do Not Disturb for the rest of the exam.

Me

Awe, but I love talking to u. I can feel the annoyance through my screen 😚😚

Grumpy Caterpillar 🐛🐱

Those better have been typos because Vlad probably doesn't appreciate you sending other guys kissy emojis.

Me

😚 This is for friends.

😘 This is for bfs/gfs

Don't flatter yourself, Sho.

Grumpy Caterpillar 🐛🐱 is typing...

"Who are you texting that is making you smiling and giggling so much?" Recovery Girl asked as she tried to look over my phone. Is it an old person thing to try and see people's phones? Torino did that, too, at the hospital.

"I'm just teasing Mr. Aizawa, and he's taking the bait," I said, not looking up from my phone reading his messages.

Grumpy Caterpillar 🐛🐱

I'm not the one doing the flattering.

Me

Wdym? 🤔

Read at 12:45 pm

Me

???????

I pouted at my phone and stuffed it into my skirt pocket. "He left me on read, how rude."

"Maybe he got tired of the teasing. You can be annoying at times. Now let's continue with the exams." The blunt old lady bumped my head with her cane lightly, or at least what she thought it was lightly.

"Ow, that cane should be registered as a weapon." I rubbed my head.

"Don't take advantage of the attention that man gives you. You're smarter than that to string someone along." She huffed protectively.

"I am not doing anything, just being friendly, that's all."

"You should try being less friendly unless you actually want to pursue anything with him. But considering your relationship with Vlad, I don't think that's happening."

"I'm teasing, not flirting. Plus, it's not like Aizawa to catch feelings."

"You can't catch feelings when you always had them, sweetheart." I looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, not really understanding where she was coming from. "For such a smart young lady, you seem to be oblivious when it comes to love. Unless you're just denying the inevitable."

"And what is the inevitable, Ms. I Know Everything?"

"That you and Shota never got over your feelings for one another. So the feelings are rising to the surface once more, but that isn't any of my business." Recovery Girl mentioned not taking her eyes off of the screen. "And you can't deny it, Gran Torino and I like to talk, you know? He told me about you two at the hospital. And don't think I didn't see you guys in my office looking like you wanted to smash your faces together. You're not kids anymore, be mature about this, Mai, please."

Be mature... Yeah, right... If it goes both ways, then he should be doing something about it, too, not just me. It can't all be me. "Let's just watch the rest of the exams and drop this subject. Not like anything could happen. I'm leaving at the end of the year."

"And you're with Vlad." Recovery Girl felt the need to remind me.

"Eh, I'm starting to think it might not be as serious as I thought," I say, remembering how awkward Vlad got when I misunderstood how close we were. I still enjoyed being around him, and I enjoyed the attention, but after that, it made me second guess myself a lot when it came to him. Like, if I couldn't even call him by his first name, how could he and I be close enough to sleep together? It didn't sit right with me. I think he felt it, too, because we weren't really intimate after the name debacle. Recovery Girl then turned to me to see the serious look on my face while I watched Ochako and Aoyama go through their exam, and then she put her hand on my head as a way to comfort me. Nothing was going on between Aizawa and me, just displaced feelings. We'll eventually get to be just friends without the feelings of what if's and what could be's getting in the way.

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

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