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theunholygrails · 3 years

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Foolish Games Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: Introducing new characters and some drama! Percy is still sexy as ever :'(.

Warnings: BJ

I woke up to a door slamming so hard it joined the symphony of my pounding headache. I groaned, hoisting myself over the back of the couch to investigate to intrusion. A brunette head of long sweeping hair rushed through the foyer, barreling towards the kitchen. A familiar mop of black hair hurried after.

Reyna was speaking so fast in Spanish my brain scrambled to keep up. I noted lots of curse words followed by a series of sentences too fast I was surprised she even knew what she was saying. Percy was answering in slow measured words, probably fighting a hangover of equal measure. I ducked behind the back of the couch, reaching for my phone plugged in on the coffee table.

It was noon. 2% battery and a couple messages from friends. Nothing from my ex thank gods. Five from Annabeth being nosey. I opened my uber app, squinting in the sunlight breaking through the cream curtains. I managed to get my driver secured.

A door slammed and I winced, peaking to check that they were in another room. I did not immediately spot my dress in the chaotic. I grimaced remembering the midnight swim. When I sat up I finally noticed the white tshirt I wore and the basketball shorts. And then I went rigid remembering what happened after the swim.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered.

Now I really had to get out of this house. I checked the arrival time of my driver. Three minutes away. Great. I made my way on shaky knees to the large wooden front door. My keys were still in the collection dish. I grabbed them quietly and turned the door handle a fraction of an inch before another door slammed open and Reyna came barreling back into the foyer, brown eyes landing promptly on my guilty ass. Behind her, Percy pursed his lips into a thin line and raised both of his hands to lay on top of his head. His biceps strained nicely against the thin t shirt.

“The fuck is this?” Reyna whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” I babbled.

“It’s just Noa, Rey. Gods,” Percy said.

“I can see that, Percy!” She snapped. I was glad her spear was not strapped across her back this morning. “Why is she sneaking out of my house in your clothes?”

“People were swimming last night. Her clothes got wet.”

“I’m sure the fuck they did.”

“Zeus, Rey! You ended it with me. Why does it even matter?”

“Because I still fucking love you! I’m sorry, okay?” She burst out crying and Percy instantly pulled her against his chest. The memory of being in those arms drove me out the door like a nest of hornets.

~~~~

“I’m just saying. You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Annabeth paused to sip her iced coffee. “Unless they get back together and then you sleep with him. But as of right now, you’re good. Trust me. Been on the Percy train. We’re still friends. You’ll get over it. Just a harmless rebound for both of you.”

I groaned, laying my chin on the cool metal table parked outside our favorite coffee shop positioned between our New York apartments. Just two Manhattan women enjoying their Sunday afternoon. The air was cooling as fall neared. I pulled my baseball cap closer to the top of my sunglasses.

“Should I call him?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Let him deal with his relationship drama. Reyna is a lot to deal with. Still nothing from fuckface?”

“Nope and that’s fine.”

“Good for you. We will hydrate you, get you a good dinner, hit the gym before work in the morning and then get back on our bad bitch mental track. Agreed?”

~~~~

“Good Monday, yogis,” I chirped from my desk at the corner of my studio.

The third class was beginning to trickle in and I was settling into my rhythm. Hot yoga was next and hopefully I would sweat out all the negativity I’d allowed lately. I was in the middle of emailing back a potential client when someone rapped at the wood of my desk. I glanced up to a blonde male who waved gently.

“Heya, sansei Noa,” he said.

“That’s karate. Can I help you?”

“Do you do trial classes?”

I hit send on my email and closed my laptop. The guy was built like a poser with the defined muscles and chiseled jaw but his voice was soft and tempered. He was clean shaven and dressed like a basic gym bro.

“Normally you have to schedule them beforehand because of class size,” I gave my standard answer.

“Right, my bad. Sorry. I was just passing by the front and it looked like the kind of place I needed right now. Can I go ahead and pick a date then?”

I was staring too long into his pale blue eyes, honed in on the polite response. A nice change from the daily demanding consumers. “You know what? Ive got space right now if you like? Have you ever done hot yoga?”

A brilliant white smile showcasing sharp canines. “My favorite.”

“Perfect. I just need a name, number and email to get you a file started.”

He leaned large hands on my desk. “It’s Luke Castellan.”

Before he could give the contact information, I cut him off. “Wait. I know you.” His tanned skin paled significantly.

“I…”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” I blurted out.

His eyes skated around the room and he leaned in closer. “That’s not supposed to be public knowledge. I assume you’re a demigod?”

“Luke, you trained me. We took fucking sculpting together. The Apollo table was right next to the Hermes one for fuck’s sake.”

He winced. I heard a murmuring from the rest of my class I was disturbing with my volume. I collected my shock finally. “Take a seat if you want. We should talk after class. I need to start.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry Noa.”

I waved him off and walked over to my yoga mat. I sat cross legged and drew in an even breath to smooth out my emotions.

It was a slow 30 minute class. Each pose and movement dragged on. Finally, I dismissed the group and nodded Luke outside. He was waiting on the bench outside of the studio I split renting with a few other instructors. I sat next to him, wiping sweat from my face with the towel slung over my pink sports bra.

“Alright, talk,” I said.

“Not much to say. I was given a second chance at my hearing. Here I am. Starting over.” A shrug of well-defined shoulders. The muscles flexed beneath his gleaming sweat. His red tank top stuck to his chest and stomach. “I wish I remembered you, truly. That time is such a blur in my life.”

“It’s ok. You were a lot older than me and to be honest I had a massive crush on you so I probably hid most of the time.”

A surprised smile slipped across his lips. “I’m assuming the betrayal helped you get over that?”

I laughed outloud, slapping his knee. “No shit! So where are you staying these days?”

“Just around the corner actually. Got a job at the local gym.”

“Yeah I bet the fuck you did.” I squeezed his forearm between both of my hands. I wanted to roll my eyes at me falling back into my school girl giddy at him. Betrayal of the gods aside. He was even more gorgeous than ever. The scar down his face gave him a dark sexy vibe. Like a bad boy even though he claimed he was rehabbing himself now.

“So how, did you feel about the class?”

“I mean, I’d like to sign up for it a couple times a week, that’s for sure. And I’d like to take you out to dinner to make up for not remembering a beauty like you.”

I almost bit my cheek biting out the response of “Yes!”

“You’ve got my number,” he said, chuckling quietly. “I’ve got to get to work.” He shouldered his gym bag and excused himself.

The bike back to my apartment was spent reliving my tween fantasies about bad boy Luke. I opened my apartment door and screeched seeing a man sitting at my kitchen counter. Percy turned to face me.

“You know you live in New York? You should really lock that.”

“It was!” I snapped.

A quick grin. “Yeah. But it was easy to break into.”

I dropped my bag onto the floor and brushed past him to get a protein shake from the fridge. “I have to shower and get prepared for my night classes.” I told him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

He paused, studying my face in the shitty lighting of the single bulb hanging between us over the counter. “Are we good, Noa?”

“Of course. What’s a little head between friends?”

“Okay…I can’t read you. Can you not play tough just for a minute?”

I chugged the shake and set the bottle down between us. I leaned my arms on the chilled counter, bun knocking against the light. “Honestly, Percy. I’m fine. We are good.”

“Reyna moved back in.”

“You’re engaged again?”

I drank from the empty bottle to give myself something to do. He watched me with those green eyes. He’d known me for far too long. He was nearly impossible to deceive, but I was determined today. The fact that I had dreamt of fucking him two consecutive nights was irrelevant if he was off the table. Even if his lips did look incredibly juicy tonight. Even if they had done near illicit things to me just nights ago.

“I don’t know. She said she wanted to work on things. And it’s her dad’s house, so I can’t ask her to go and I don’t want to go to my mom’s and admit defeat.”

“You know you could stay here, Perc.”

He worked his jaw silently, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks. I do know. Even if we aren’t officially back together, I think we should work on it…” he trailed off.

“And not tell her about you eating me out?” I leaned closer because I was mean to both him and myself. Because I knew this top combined with this angle gave him a simple opportunity. And he took it.

His tongue slid out between his lips as his eyes flicked down, stayed, then dragged deliberately back up. “Probably not,” he agreed.

For a long moment neither of us said anything. He had more to lose now than me. We were no longer on equal playing fields. So, I left the ball in his court. “I’m going to go shower.”

I was done washing in the first ten minutes. The second ten was giving him a little wiggle room to decide. I had my hand on the faucet to cut off the water that was beginning to go cold when I heard the door creak open. I watched through the fogged glass, catching a hold of my breath. I watched as he tugged his shirt off. My stomach flipped over itself when he reached for his jeans. What had I done?

The opening door let in a rush of cool air, perking my skin to attention. My eyes raked unapologetically over his naked, aroused body. His dark hair quickly slicked against his stubble covered jaw. His eyes were no longer the sea green but murky like the deep water of the ocean.

“Hey,” he said quietly, cautiously.

“Hey,” I giggled, reaching out to touch his rough jaw. He winced, catching my hand with his. “We probably shouldn’t kiss again.”

“Sure, whatever you want, Percy. What can I do to you?”

He groaned, turning his mouth into my palm, scraping teeth against the vulnerable skin. “Touch me,” he said.

My free hand instantly planted against his chest, scraping at the muscle. His eyes fluttered closed, head tilting back to expose his throat. I slid my other hand into his thick hair, tugging it tightly between my fingers and pulling to grant myself more access to the strong column of his neck. I bit it first, backing him into the tiled wall when he shuddered. I kissed over the reddening skin and moved my hands to his flat stomach, feeling the shuddered breaths beneath my touch.

“Like this?” I asked.

His reply was unintelligible. I kissed down his chest, moving my hand lower still as I went. When my fingers brushed over the v-line of his hips, I shifted my route away from the center and to his thighs. An annoyed grunt escaped his lips. “Hush,” I scolded, getting my knees under me. The now cold water was hitting the back of my neck and flowing down my body. I placed my hands on the inside of both his thighs, trailing them upwards and upwards until he nearly contorted when I gripped him. He let out a scandalous string of curses that quickly turned to moaning silence when I took him into my mouth.

He unraveled in minutes and I let him cum all over the breasts I had teased him with earlier. I rose in front of him, my own rosy cheeks mirroring his. “Now we’re even.”

#percy jackson smut #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson #logan lerman smut #logan lerman fanfiction

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doc-pickles · 3 years

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all's well that end well to end up with you (p.2)

Welcome back to part two of this fic! If you missed part one it’s right here! enjoy!!

xoxo nina

The absolute last thing Jo had expected when she came to New York for a medical conference was running into her ex-husband. It should’ve been on her radar, Arizona was headlining the conference, but she hadn’t thought that Alex would be interested in maternal-fetal medicine. Yet there they were, staring at each other across a crowded hotel lobby. Arizona interrupts her train of thought, welcoming her and gushing about how excited she is that Jo is now an OB.

“I have to run but I see your husband over there,” if Arizona registers her shock she doesn’t show it. “Good to see you, Jo!”

As soon as Arizona is out of sight Jo finds herself marching up to Alex and slapping his arm, “Ow! What was that for?”

“What was that for? Arizona just called you my husband,” Alex flinches and Jo can’t help rolling her eyes at him. “You didn’t tell her?”

“It never came up.” “Alex! It’s been three years,” at the mention of their separation reality seems to sink in around Alex and Jo. They haven’t seen each other in three years, not since Jo dropped him off at the airport. “Hi.”

“Hey. You look… wow,” Alex realizes his blunder almost immediately, stuttering over his words as he tries to correct himself. “Sorry, uh, about Arizona. I’m scared she’s going to hit me for letting you get away. Which, fair enough, you know?”

Jo takes Alex in fully for the first time. His hair is a bit grayer but he looks good with his sun-kissed skin and toned arms. He’s dressed in a button-up and slacks and in other circumstances, Jo would find him devilishly handsome.

“Yeah, you’d have to be pretty stupid to let this get away,” Jo sends a subtle wink Alex’s way and watches as he sighs in relief. “So what are you doing at an MFM conference anyway?”

“My hospital is opening a brand new neonatal and MFM wing so the board decided that the chief and some of our surgeons should come out and learn a bit more. It also helps that Arizona taught me everything I know,” Alex nervously rubs the back of his neck, watching Jo carefully. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m an OB now,” the shocked expression on Alex’s face makes Jo giggle. “I know but after… Well after everything that happened I needed some change, something to make me happy. So I switched to OB, adopted a baby, and dyed my hair blonde. The blonde didn’t stick but the baby and the career switch did.”

There’s an overhead announcement for the start of the conference, people moving inside all around them. Everyone else seems to fade away though as Jo and Alex meet eyes again. He’s wearing that dumbstruck look that he wore when she dressed or after she said I love you or when they’d lay in bed together. Despite the years and distance between them, Alex still wears the undeniable look of love he always did when he looked at Jo.

“I gotta find Carina but… I’ll see you around?” Alex nods, still entranced with Jo as she turns to walk away. Their interaction is brief but it makes her crave Alex all the more.

Late that night Jo finds herself alone at the hotel bar. Carina had initially joined her but had gone back to their room to call Maya and their daughter. Jo is about to head up herself when someone sits on the stool next to her.

“Jack and coke for me and a whiskey sour for my friend here.”

Jo’s head whips up in surprise as Alex settles down next to her, a smirk gracing his lips, “It’s still a whiskey sour right?”

“Yeah thank you,” Jo nods to the bartender as he hands her the drink. “So… we’re friends now?”

“I’d like to hope so,” Alex picks up his glass and Jo gladly toasts him. “To new beginnings”

“To new beginnings.”

Alex and Jo sit together and discuss what’s changed for them. There’s no awkwardness or hostility like Jo might have thought. Instead, it genuinely feels like catching up with an old friend. She talks about Luna and proudly shows a video of the young girl counting to 10 in Spanish. Alex brings up a photo from Izzie’s wedding of himself squished between Eli and Alexis, all three bearing matching crooked smiles and bright eyes. Jo can’t help the swell of pride that mounts in her chest at the sight. Eli looks more like Alex but she can still see the Karev shining through Alexis as well. For a moment she wonders, goes through the what-ifs, but she quickly pushes them down.

“I think I’m gonna head up but I really enjoyed catching up,” Alex leans down, pressing a kiss to Jo’s cheek. Her skin flames up under his delicate touch and she knows she’s wearing a deep blush. “Goodnight Jo.”

“You missed.”

“What?”

“You missed,” Jo leans up, her fingers brushing Alex’s cheek as she pulls him down into a deep kiss. She brings her other hand up to tangle in his hair and pull him closer, sighing contentedly as his hands find her waist and pull her flush against him. She pulls back only slightly, leaning her forehead against Alex’s. “Are you still leaving?”

“Not without you I’m not,” the words sound so natural as Jo melts into Alex’s embrace, his arms wrapping fully around her. Their lips meet in a chaste kiss before they’re stumbling out of the bar, not drunk enough to blame their actions on the alcohol but just enough to begin to heal the open wounds of their failed relationship.

Everything after that comes naturally, the lost lovers escaping upstairs and falling into bed with practiced ease. Jo feels right at home in Alex’s bed, both of them remembering each other’s bodies as if they’d never parted. Neither of them thinks twice about the pillow talk they share after or the way they drift off to sleep in each other’s arms. It’s not until the next morning when Jo answers her phone that she realizes things are amiss.

“Mmm hello?”

“Thank goodness, I thought you were dead.”

“Carina?”

“Where are you? You missed the first speaker of the day.”

Jo bolts up in bed, finally realizing where she is. Alex’s arms snake out and around her waist, his gruff voice slightly muffled by his pillow, “Come back to bed, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Carina I’m going to grab a shower and I’ll be down as soon as possible.” There’s a light laugh on the other side as Carina confirms Jo’s plan, “I’m glad you’re having fun, Jo.”

Jo hangs up, jumping out of bed and searching for her clothes in a rush to get out the door. Her frantic pace brings Alex out of his sleepy stupor as he rubs his eyes and watches her, “Where are you rushing off to?”

“Well it’s 10:30 so I already missed the lecture on in utero surgery,” Alex rolls over, groaning when he sees that Jo is correct. “I’m hoping I can fit in a shower before Arizona goes on.”

Once she’s finally dressed Jo walks back to Alex, her lips brushing over his lightly before she pulls him in for a sweet and sensual kiss. She watches him for a moment, taking in the shocked look on his face, “What?”

“Why aren't you mad at me? I left you.”

“I forgave you a long time ago for that Alex,” Jo runs her fingers across his cheek, meeting his eyes with a serious stare. “As soon as I held Luna I understood why you did what you did. I knew that if I felt that way about a baby that wasn’t even mine yet that you couldn’t leave two kids who were half you. I always knew you would be a fantastic dad. Even if it wasn’t with me I’m glad that you got that.”

Jo presses one more chaste kiss to Alex’s lips, leaving him staring dumbfounded at her, “Can I come back tonight?”

“I’m sorry,” Alex seemingly ignores Jo’s last statement, looking up at her with a sorrowful expression. “Leaving you… leaving you was my biggest mistake. I love my kids but you were everything. You’re still everything. And I know you say that you forgave me but I never apologized. I’m so sorry Jo, you didn’t deserve how I left you.”

There’s an amicable silence as Jo and Alex just stare at each other, both of them with tears welling in their eyes. There’s not much else to say, but they both know that their newfound relationship wouldn’t end with the weekend.

It's three weeks after Alex‘s surprise weekend visit to Seattle and Jo has never felt so terrible in her life. Despite Carina‘s prescription of an anti-nausea medication Jo’s morning sickness and vertigo continue to plague her no matter what she tries. She hasn’t operated or delivered any babies in almost a month, her work routines now consisting of doing chart work and checking on patients when she’s not trying to keep food down. Between trying to maintain her work schedule and keeping up with Luna on top of her pregnancy, Jo is exhausted and completely depleted of any energy she might have once had.

She finally hits her breaking point an hour into her shift when she’s thrown up for the fourth time that day and nearly passes out. Her head is swimming as she leans against the bathroom stall, the only thought she can focus on is how much she wishes Alex was there. He always knew exactly what she needed when she wasn’t feeling good. There’s a knock on the door and she barely lifts her head when she sees Carina walk in.

“I’m admitting you. You need rest and fluids and you’re not going to get that if you keep running yourself into the ground,” Carina places her hand on Jo’s forehead. “You’re burning up, mi amor.”

“I’m fine, I don’t need to be admitted,” Jo attempts to brush off Carina as she grabs her hand, but the rush of blood to her head stops her. Carina barely catches her as her knees go weak and her vision blurs.

“What am I going to do with you, Jo? Come on, let’s go.”

Jo doesn’t put up any more of a fight, following Carina to a room and all but collapsing onto the bed. Her brain is foggy, words incoherently falling from her mouth as Carina asks her questions. Finally, her eyes flutter shut and Jo is enveloped in silence.

When she pries her eyes open again the sky outside is dark. Jo realizes this is the longest she’s slept in over a month and lets her eyes fall shut again. Only a moment later she remembers her morning with Carina and a deep panic sets into her bones.

Her baby.

As if sensing her unease, Alex reaches his hand out to grab hers. Jo then realizes that he’s sitting at her bedside, eyes tired and body restless in the small chair, “The baby’s okay, you don’t need to freak out.”

Jo nods, rubbing her hands over her face in exasperation. Even though their baby is okay Alex’s worried expression tells her that things might not be all rainbows and sunshine.

“Carina called me after you passed out. Scared the shit out of me, I thought you were dead or…,” Alex doesn’t finish the statement out, Jo putting the pieces together and settling her hand on the slight curve of her stomach. “You’ve gotta take better care of yourself.”

“I didn’t pass out, my vision went spotty and I was light-headed. And then I took a nap.”

“Jo, you slept for 15 hours straight. You were out long enough for me to finish a laparoscopic cholecystectomy, drive an hour to Kansas City, hop on a four-hour flight, and sit in traffic from the airport to get here. You’re running yourself into the ground,” Jo avoids Alex’s gaze as she fights back tears. “Carina took your blood when she put you on the IV drip. On top of being dehydrated and having iron deficiency anemia you also have an untreated UTI that’s bordering a kidney infection.”

“What?” Jo sits up abruptly but is immediately overcome with a wave of dizziness. Alex moves faster than her, placing one hand on her back while the other holds a basin in front of her. Head still in the basin, Jo speaks up, “Are you serious?”

Alex confirms the news once more, his hand rubbing Jo’s back gently, “She’s got you on strong meds to combat the infection and the baby is doing fine. You just need to take better care of yourself, Jo. Between work and Luna and now this baby you’re stretching yourself too thin.”

She can't help the rush of emotions she feels or the loud sob that breaks from her as Jo lets the last few weeks finally take their toll on her. Alex is quick to wrap her in his arms but even that does little to calm her down.

“I’m sorry, it’s just been really overwhelming and I’ve been doing everything alone,” Jo wipes at the tears pooling under her eyes and settles into Alex’s side. “I’m just exhausted from everything.”

“You’re not alone Jo, you have me and Mer and Link. All of us are more than willing to help you out.”

“Meredith and Link have their own families to take care of. And you live halfway across the freaking country, I can’t keep expecting you to drop everything and come to my rescue,” Jo knows that Alex wants to refute her statement but she avoids looking at him. “It’s just me and Luna and it’s so hard. I thought having a medically fragile infant was hard but that was nothing compared to all of this.”

Alex leans down and presses a kiss to Jo’s forehead, pulling her closer to him, “We’ll figure it all out, okay? I’m not letting you take all of this on by yourself.”

The words comfort Jo, if only slightly. She knows Alex has changed, knows that he really means it when he says that he’s going to take care of them. She’s not entirely sure what the future holds for them but she knows that everything will work out.

Meredith isn’t entirely sure what to think when she uses her key to unlock the penthouse only to find it empty. The furniture is still there but the personal items are all gone. The photos of Jo and Luna are gone, all of the drawers and closets are empty, and the place is eerily quiet. When she loops back to the living room Meredith finally notices the note taped to the fridge written in Jo’s loopy script.

Link or Meredith-

Luna and I are fine, there’s no need to worry about us. I promise we’ll call soon.

-Jo

The note gives Meredith a strange sense of deja vu, taking her back to when she had packed up Zola and Bailey and gone to San Diego. The memory instantly worries her, she can’t blame Jo for running but she also knows that their situations aren’t the same. Meredith pulls out her phone and dials Alex, hoping that he’s heard from Jo but the call goes straight to voicemail.

As she walks out of the penthouse Meredith hopes that Jo is okay, hopes that Alex knows where she is and that he’s able to help her through the rough road she has ahead of her.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself. How was the flight?”

“Besides the rambunctious three-year-old and constant nausea it wasn’t too bad,” Jo grins up at Alex as he takes Luna from her arms. “I can’t believe we’re here.”

Alex lets out a laugh as he folds Jo into his arms, squeezing both girls tightly, “Finally, it only took a month of begging.”

“Yeah well I figured now was a good time, you know before I get any bigger,” at the mention of her expanding baby bump Alex lets his hand float down to the curve of her stomach. She’d hidden it well with sweaters and baggy scrubs but now there was no denying that she was pregnant. “This is kinda crazy, isn’t it?”

Alex and Jo both laugh at that, knowing that nothing they’d ever done was traditional or normal. They’d divorced almost four years ago and now found themselves with three kids between them and a fourth on the way.

��What? You moving to Kansas after we’ve only been back together for a few months? I’d say it’s not completely sane,” Alex takes in Jo’s shocked face with a smile. “What’s that look for?”

“So we’re together now are we?”

Alex laughs before he bends down and captures Jo’s lips, only parting upon Luna’s insistence, “Only if you want to be.”

“I do.”

“Good because I fully intend to have you say those words for a third time,” Jo’s jaw drops at Alex’s words and it takes everything in her to calm down her racing heart. “You think I was just gonna bring you out here without marrying you?”

“Well, I-”

Alex takes the opportunity to press another kiss to Jo’s lips, “It’s okay princess, I promise this is the last time.” Jo finds herself standing in awe as she watches Alex and Luna look for their bags on the conveyor belt in front of them. There’s a flurry of tiny flutters that erupt in her stomach, partially from the baby wiggling around but mostly from the joy, she felt at Alex’s proposition. Since their reunion in New York, all Jo has wanted is exactly this, a life with Alex. She had thought that wasn’t in the cards for them anymore but as she watched him hoist Luna onto his shoulders she knew that everything around them had worked out perfectly.

#jolex #alex karev #jo wilson #jo karev #greys anatomy #jo x alex #jolex fanfic #greys anatomy fanfic #nina writes

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acespec-ed · 3 years

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You know, I find it real interesting that during all this COVID hell, with all these mandatory mask mandates that came with it, is the same period of time I experience sexual attraction more often than ever before.

Hmm.....

Now, I have seen both of these people I’m sexually attracted to without their masks. But I’ve seen them with masks on a helluva lot more than with their masks off. To the point where it’s difficult to remember the exact details of the lower half of their faces. My brain has to fill in a few blanks every time I think of them. This is probably making them look more attractive to me than they actually are. If I saw them without a mask all the time, like pre-covid days, is it possible I’d be remembering their full faces with all the imperfections? And so, not find them as attractive as I do?

This made something click in my head.

Almost all of my crushes take time to form. It was enough to make me think I was demi. But I never truly knew any of my crushes. And most of them were people I’d never meet.

Something else interesting? Most of my crushes start with me thinking, “he’s kinda cute” at first sight. Not hot. Not beautiful. Not even cute cute. Just “kinda.” But over time, a crush would form. I’m starting to think that, maybe, their “kinda cute” looks grew on me the more I saw the person? And so, I ended up crushing on them.

Of course, I’ve found people “gorgeous,” but it’s rare. Even more rare is for them to become crushes. Usually because seeing them was a “one time thing,” or in the case of celebrities, there was never anything else to keep me interested. (Ex: Band member of band I don’t care for, actor only in obscure spanish soap operas, etc.) And we’re just talking aesthetic attraction!

I think I need to find someone aesthetically attractive before I can get a crush on them. And it takes time for me to find someone aesthetically attractive. It’s (usually) a process of observation, where their actions and/or personality draw me in. Someone who is “kinda cute” can evolve into “gorgeous” territory this way, which is when the crush forms. When the crush becomes huge, there is potential for sexual attraction. It’s probably not gonna happen, but it’s there.

Basically, I can’t find someone sexually attractive unless I feel freakishly strong romantic attraction towards them. But I can’t find someone romantically attractive unless I find them aesthetically attractive. And I can’t find someone aesthetically attractive unless they fit my high standards of beauty or I’ve looked at them enough times.

I have no idea where I’m going with any of this. But of course I’m going to have an easier time finding a man attractive if he’s hiding his physical flaws all the time. If my brain has to fill in the blanks with my preferences. It doesn’t help that they’re nice to me, and I don’t know much about them, so I can have an idealized version in my head.

If all this is true, then I feel so much better about all the sexual attraction I felt this year. Me being ace wasn’t “just a phase” after all!

#just me rambling

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ithebookhoarder · 3 years

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Can I get 83 off the angst list with Javier??? It's: Stay there I'm coming to get you

100 ways to say ily Prompt 83: “Stay there. I’m coming to get you” (Javier Peña x F!Reader)

A/N: Ooo, right in the angst. Let’s get to it! I also assume you meant this prompt list rather than the angst one as that’s only up to 20 ;) Don’t worry. I got you tho! I hope you like it x Apologies for my terrible attempts at Spanish, so let me know if I got any of it wrong.

Warnings: Swearing, violence, blood, references to death (let me know if I missed anything)

Masterlist:

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“Javi?”

“Y/N?”

The sound of his voice was soft as you held the phone to your ear. You could hear the soft echo of music playing in the background telling you he was definitely at home.

Why wouldn’t he be, given the hour? It was the morning. 3 am to be precise. He should have been asleep. You should have been asleep, but no, you’d had to chase this lead alone. Like an idiot. A strong willed idiot who should have known better.

But no. The idea of being able to catch one of Escobar’s top employees had been too tempting an opportunity to miss despite the fact the ambassador had said otherwise. In fact, he’d said fuck no, telling all of you to wait it out and get another source to confirm it.

Apparently a friend of one of Javi’s ex informants wasn’t what they called reliable... even though she had direct access to the people supposed to be gathering tonight at the club you’d been staking out.

Two hours you’d watched from your car, having snuck out to do so. If Javier and Steve had wanted to behave for once, then that was their call. They could stay and fill out paperwork to their hearts content.

You didn’t need them for what was supposed to be a routine stake out and observation mission.

Or so you’d thought.

The fact you’d been made by one of the gang about thirty minutes after you’d entered the club had put a pretty big dampener on your plan. You hadn’t noticed as they’d arrived, recognising you after you’d almost caught them at a raid only days ago.

The sicario had slipped away, managing to leap across one of the roofs as you’d chased them across. Had Steve not grabbed your arm and told you it was too dangerous a jump to risk, you’d have followed.

But here he was, back and ready for payback... and he’d been quick to point you out to the others surrounding him.

You knew it had been risky to be here and unfortunately, you were proved horrifically right. The fact you’d got away was a minor miracle, even if you were now bleeding. Badly.

Damn bullet had missed but the graze was agonising, causing you to wince as you clutched at your side, trying to stem the bleeding as best you could.

“Javi... I messed up.”

“Y/N, hermosa. What is it? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

His questions were relentless, firing one after the other as he detected the fear in your voice. The pain and regret too.

“I’m ... I’m in an alley... by Fiebre... I’m sorry...”

“No, no. Don’t be sorry. It’s ok,” Javi soothed, panic underlying each word. You could hear him clattering about, most likely grabbing his keys and rushing out of the apartment next to yours. He didn’t need to ask to know what you were doing or why you were there. He knew you too well. He also knew you wouldn’t be calling like this if you weren’t in trouble. Trouble serious enough he had to get to you. Fast. “I’m on my way. Just stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

A tear rolled down your cheek as the air suddenly felt a lot colder. Like Javi had just turned on the stupid faulty AC unit in your apartment, like he always did when it got late and he was staying over to look over material or keeping you company.

God. What you’d have given to have him there to hold you right then. To wrap his familiar leather jacket around you like he always did when you forgot a jacket of your own, still forgetting that the hot days often fell into cooler nights.

You longed for its touch, its scent, its comfort as you stared at the sky and prayed you lived long enough to regret this.

“Fuck.” Your car was just down the street. You were so close but you didn’t know if you had the strength to make it there. “Javi... I’m bleeding... the bullet... it hit my side... it won’t stop.”

“Y/N, baby. Listen to me. We’re coming. Steve and I. It’s gonna be ok. Just keep talking to me, ok? Put pressure on it and don’t fall asleep. You hear me?”

“Javi-“

“I’m fucking serious, hermosa. You hear me? You better keep your damn eyes open long enough so I can look at them when we get there, and you make some stupid wise crack about all this.”

A car door slammed. Voices rang out over the line. You could hear an engine start.

“Javi... I love you... I really do...”

“Y/N? Y/N?”

His voice sounded desperate, terrified even, as you faded away, failing to reply. You simply felt the edges of your vision beginning to dim and the inevitable pull of sleep tugging you toward an abyss you knew there would be no coming back from.

You couldn’t fight it any longer.

A single tear trickled down your cheek and you felt the phone drop from your hand onto the cold concrete beneath you.

“I’m sorry.”

———

“-y tienes suerte de que te quiera mucho. Odio los hospitales. este lugar es jodidamente horrible. No puedo dejarte aquí solo. no cuando te vas a despertar en cualquier momento. ¿Me escuchas? Tú vas a-“

The voices were coming in waves, washing over you and disappearing just as quickly.

It was hard to try and hold on to, even if you wanted to. This voice in particular was soft and tempting, familiar even... Coaxing you in over and over every time you slipped back into the darkness that was so warm and soft.

You’d always been a deep sleeper, slamming your alarm harder than necessary whenever it tried to wake you.

Now was the same... even if you knew it shouldn’t be. Even if you felt odd, like you were supposed to be somewhere and you’d forgotten...

But where?

“She should have woken by now-“

“Javi, calm down. She’s gonna be fine. The doctor said so. She just needs to rest. Have a little faith in her. She’s tough. She’ll pull through this.”

“But if she doesn’t ... Steve, I can’t...”

“Hey. Look at me, Peña. It’s gonna be alright. Now come on. Connie said she’d bring some clothes for you...”

There they were. The voices again.

Somehow, you knew that they were trying to pull you back to wherever you were supposed to be.

To the aching you felt. To the mechanical beeping you could hear. To the painfully bright lights hovering overhead.

To the weight and warmth of someone’s hand holding yours.

To the familiar face pressed against the bed as he slept, holding you hand tightly as if scared to let you go.

“Javi?” you croaked.

Like that, he was awake.

You worried he’d have whiplash, he sat up so fast, eyes wide in disbelief as he realised you were awake. “Y/N? Oh, thank God!”

“Y/N?”

“Steve?” you rasped, noticing your other partner as he leapt out of his chair in the corner of the room. The relief was clear as he smiled and hurried to the door.

“Thank god. I’m gonna grab a nurse.”

“Ok.” You smiled and turned to Javier who was still holding your hand tight, watching you with bloodshot eyes. “What... how long was I-?”

“Three days,” he whispered. “You really scared me there for a second, hermosa. You... you lost so much blood and they weren’t sure you were gonna make it.”

“I’m sorry.”

The sight of tears in his eyes was more painful than the bullet hole that was currently sending white hot agony shooting through your side. You’d never seen Javi so torn up before. Never. The worst was when he’d sit silently and smoke for hours without even moving.

As much as you hated that, you’d take that any day over this. Knowing you were the cause.

“No. Don’t be,” he dismissed swiftly. “I mean yeah, I wanna shoot you myself for running off and pulling a dumb fucking stunt like that but I get it... I really do. I’d have done the same thing. Hell, I have done the same thing. I just wish you’d asked me to come. Or even Murphy. We would have.”

“The ambassador had his eye on you after the raid this week,” you protested weakly, wincing at the pain in your side as you tried to sit up. “I couldn’t risk you or Murphy or your jobs like that.”

“Fuck our jobs.”

“Javi -“

“No, hermosa. Listen. I mean this. You come first, understood? Always,” Javi snarled, kissing the back of your hand. “I love you and I mean that. Life isn’t worth it without you. This job means shit all without you. You come first? Ok. Always. Seeing you lying there with all the blood on you... it made me realise a few things and this is one of them. I don’t want a life or a future without you in it.”

You couldn’t help it as the tears began to flow again, your heart swelling with love for the man in front of you. You couldn’t help but reach out and brush your fingers through his hair as you’d done so many nights before.

“I love you too, Javier Peña.”

“Good. Remember that when Steve gets back and starts ripping into your ass,” Javier teased, lightening up now that your were awake and talking again. “I won’t be able to save you then, carino. Sorry. Sicarios are one thing, but Murphy? He’s almost as terrifying as Connie.”

Oh fuck. You’d forgotten about Connie. Oh she was gonna kill you. Big time.

That woman was the biggest mother hen you’d met in your entire life. She’d also probably have your ass on house arrest for the rest of your life after this stunt.

“Shit,” you whined, dropping back against the pillows. “It was good while it lasted.”

“And good thing we get to do it all again another time,” he hummed. “Just ... not for a while, ok? Not until you’re on your feet.”

“You mean, not until Connie says so?”

Javi didn’t even flinch as he nodded, deadly serious. “Yep. 100 percent.”

------

Translation: “and you are lucky i love you so much. i hate hospitals. this place is fucking horrid. i cant leave you here alone. not when you are going to wake up any minute now. you hear me? you are going to-”

#ithebookhoarder #javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena #javier peña x you #javier pena x you #narcos x reader #narcos imagine #narcos fanfic #narcos headcanons #steve murphy #connie murphy #pedro pascal #requests #answered #prompts

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thebeatleaesthetic · 4 years

Text

Paul McCartney on John Lennon’s Sexuality [Quotes]

[wordcount: 1.3 k]

I don't think [the gay claims] are true. John never ever tried anything, I slept with him a million times. I've seen him on tour roaring drunk, out of his mind in the early days before he sobered up and went to rehab. Roaring drunk and it was always with a female, never once [with a man]. If you've got a little gay tendency and you’re roaring drunk I'd have caught him once.

— Paul McCartney (from The Sun)

That was the intimacy we had. We would always be walking in on each other and things. I’d walked in on John and seen a little bottom bobbing up and down with a girl underneath him. It was perfectly normal: you’d go, ‘Oh shit, sorry,’ and back out the room...

That’s why I’ve always found very strange the theory that John was gay. Because over fifteen years of sharing rooms, sharing our lives, not one of us has an incident to relate of catching John with a boy. I would have thought that kind of thing would be more prevalent, and John’s inhibitions were certainly free when he was drunk.

...

So there was the homosexual thing - I’m not sure John did anything but we certainly gave him a lot of grief when he got back [from Spain with Brian].

...

There has been a suggestion since that John had some homosexual thing with Brian, but I personally doubt it. All the intimate moments we shared were always about girls.

— Paul McCartney (from The Beatles Anthology book)

The funny thing is when later the rumour came out that John was gay, I said: 'I don't think so.' I mean, I don't know what he did when he went to New York, but certainly not in any of my experiences. We used to sleep together, top and tail it, you know. I always used to say: 'Come on, I would have spotted something here.' But what I spotted was completely the opposite. It was just chicks, chicks, chicks.

— Paul McCartney (from The Guardian 2007 interview with Pete Doherty)

But I--I mean, I hear [Peter Brown] said John Lennon had a gay thing with Brian Epstein when they went to Spain together once. That's been rumored for years. I mean, was he in the room with them? It's probably just wishful thinking on his part. But I'll tell you what's naughty about it--that John's not here to answer it, and neither is Brian. All that stuff that's written about us, I just hope that people who've sort of heard of our music, vaguely, know what the Beatles, or the ex-Beatles, were--and it wasn't what's been written. I mean, John's time and effort were, in the main, spent on pretty honorable stuff.

— Paul McCartney (from the Playboy 1984 interview)

I don't actually know the truth of the John [and Brian Epstein relationship] rumor. I mean, all I can ever say about that is that I slept with John a lot just 'cause you--you had to sleep and you know you didn't have, you know, more than one bed. And, um, to my knowledge John was never gay. It might've been--I've suspected that the John thing and Brian was a power play on John. 'Cause John was a very political animal. And John I suspect went away on that, uh, Spanish holiday, wherever it was, number one 'cause nobody went on holiday so anyone--I would've gone. Anyone would've gone. Off a free holiday? You're kidding. Yes! I'm there. Number two, I'm sure John took Brian aside and said "Hey, you wanna deal with this group, I'm the guy you deal with. Okay?" John was that kind of guy. Very sensible, very pragmatic. So I'm sure that was the main reason John went there. Now as to whether there was any sort of gay dalliance or whatever, I don't know. That's--that's--that’s, uh, I can't tell you that... And I say, he never hit on me at all. You know, there was never any question of it at all. And I say, we lived so intimately together that there would've been one evening when he's sort of drunk and so and so and so, would've been in his character to do that...

— Paul McCartney (from the Beatle Stories channel)

I slept in a million hotel rooms, as we all did, with John and there was never any hint that he was gay...

When the group was formed John was a smart cookie. Brian Epstein was going on holiday to Spain and Brian was gay. He invited John along. John, not being stupid, saw his opportunity to impress upon Mr Epstein who was the boss of this group. And I think that's why John went on holiday. And good luck to him, too - he was that kind of guy, he wanted Brian to know who he should listen to in this group, and that was the relationship...

So they say he went on holiday with someone who was known to be gay and therefore he is gay.

— Paul McCartney (from Lennon, Ray Coleman)

I think where [Albert Goldman in his John Lennon biography] started to exaggerate and says that John was possibly homosexual. I think that he throws that in with the truth and it starts to have the same credence as the real truth... But, um, there's a bit about me where John's supposed to come around to my house and put his foot through a picture or something. Well, I mean, it never happened you know. So if one of them never happened it's quite possible that a lot of stuff in the book never happened. And I say, if he’s homosexual, I'd have thought he'd made a pass at me in 20 years, darling!

— Paul McCartney (from The Today Show 1988)

You know, that rumor [about John being gay] came out a long time ago and the thing was, the person that started the rumor or the book that it was in, he didn't know John. Whereas I did. So I--I said to people, you know around about that time, said, "Look. I was on tour with John. I grew up with John. We kind of--we slept in the same bed in hotel rooms. We topped and tailed it like kids do, you know, when you're growing up." And I said, "I never once did I see any hint of that." Now, you know, we spent drunken nights together. I think there would've been a hint. Don't you? Somewhere. If he was gay, I think there would've just been a hint, somewhere. But it was a rumor started, uh, years ago that I--I think is a nice story if you can make it stick, but I don't think it's true.

— Paul McCartney (on The Howard Stern Show)

Stern: Here's what [Philip Norman’s] book claimed: Your sexuality was so powerful over [John], he was so enamored of you, so attracted to you, almost... McCartney: Wow. Stern: ... that you could have your way with him. Not sexually... Quivers: Did you feel a power over him? McCartney: No. Stern: ... that in business. That you had a--that--that he was sort of at your mercy because he was so in love with you. That was the theory in the book. McCartney: Well, you know, I mean I--I like that theory. Stern: Yeah [laughs]. Wish that could've been true. McCartney: No, man. Stern: No, not to have sex, but to be able to control him more because it would've been a little bit easier, business-wise. McCartney: No, but--but Howard, listen man. You can make up theories about anything... I mean, you know, we can make up anything. And that is really, particularly with The Beatles, that is what happens. They just take one tiny fragment of evidence and they blow it up into a book, even.

— Paul McCartney appears on The Howard Stern Show

▬▬▬▬

If I were to insert my own personal take on this...

I think part of the reason Paul is insistent on John’s heterosexuality (other than because he never saw John as gay) is because Paul found Albert Goldman’s, Philip Norman’s and Peter Brown’s biographies ‘trashy’. As he said when speaking about Goldman’s book in 1988: “For me, I just think it’s trash.” The rumors were around before the books’ release, but I think they - particularly Goldman - widely spread the theory among the public and elaborated on it. Paul claims there are lies in the books and he’s commented before that he strongly dislikes when people ‘cash in’ on the Beatle story with made up information. Especially when it was old friends, like Peter Brown.

As far as I can tell, Paul is also a bit protective of John’s image. To quote him from the Today Show: “[John] isn’t here to defend himself. I think that’s the big problem with a book like [Goldman’s]. It’s too cheap a shot, I think.” Remember that this book was released not even ten years after John’s death, when his name must’ve been a hot-ticket, and it’s obvious John wasn’t there to respond to any claims. John used to be asked about his relationship with Brian, denying that anything happened between them. But in these books, it was no longer asking John directly if he were gay; it was speculating that John was gay and strongly suggesting it to the reader. I think Paul feels the need to talk about what John was really like, even clarifying things like John’s flawed nature, or that John wouldn’t have wanted to be a martyr. John’s sexuality is something deeply personal and accusing him of being gay even more so. Paul must see himself as one of the few people who knew John well enough to comment on such personal things like that - which is why he says things like “I mean, was he in the room with them? It's probably just wishful thinking on his part” about Brown writing on John’s trip to Spain. I think he must find spreading rumors like that a bit presumptuous.

And of course there’s the thought that John might’ve been attracted to Paul himself. I think Paul values his memories of John’s friendship to the highest degree. So, when he hears people turning it into something else entirely, he almost immediately goes “No, no” in very clear and firm terms as he did on The Howard Stern show.

I know there is a variety of opinions on this subject, but that’s just mine!

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planetesastraea · 3 years

Text

On the tip of his tongue

Read Part 1: On the Tip of his Fingers

Geraskier, Modern AU - Explicit - 10 179 words - Warnings: none

Character study, developing relationship, banter, feelings, Geralt vs words, bisexual!Geralt, bottom!Geralt, top!Jaskier, first time, handjobs, blowjobs, anal sex. Also contains pizza (mentioned)

Betaed by the wonderful @oxbridge-quality-fanfiction-co

Read on AO3

That morning Jaskier got woken up by a soft but firm hand on his shoulder and a husky voice saying his name.

“Hmmf?” was his very articulate reply, definitely worthy of the Creative Writing and Composition in Medieval Times professor he was. “Three words or less,” he would always say to motivate his students to answer questions during class and to start a conversation. Damn, they would have been proud.

“I gotta go,” the deep voice whispered and the previous evening suddenly came back to Jaskier. Geralt. Wow. Geralt . He sat up and blinked a few times before realising his eyes were open but the sun wasn’t up yet. Geralt was but a silhouette in the dark, his smell a mix of long-forgotten aftershave and well remembered sex.

“Mmokay,” Jaskier mumbled, rubbing one eye with his palm. “Thanks for telling me,” he said sleepily. There was a pause and he realised the sentence didn’t land well.

“Sorry. Didn’t want to sneak out,” Geralt replied tightly.

“Yeano, yeah- I meant it. Sorry. Me,” Jaskier said, pointing towards his own face in the dark, and thus proving the point to no one but himself, “not a morning person.”

Geralt snorted softly. Jaskier was overcome with a powerful wave of fondness and a guttural need to reach out and kiss him. Gods bless adorable bi himbos at law.

“I should get going,” Geralt said and Jaskier thought he heard some hesitation in his voice. The mattress dipped slightly as Geralt moved to stand up, and Jaskier reached out blindly. His hand found the inside of Geralt’s elbow and then slid down softly to the man’s wrist, finding his palm.

“Wait,” Jaskier said and Geralt waited. Then it dawned on him that he was supposed to say something . “Do you want to… see me again?” he offered, truly bringing his A-game as the (supposedly) most romantic man in the continent. (He was not boasting. It had simply been brought to his attention by many of his exes, and who was he to question the opinion of the people?) He tried not to sound too hopeful but it was too early in the morning and his acting skills needed a warm-up. After all, one couldn’t just naturally wake up that good.

The silence stretched in a way that made him uncomfortable, especially since Geralt was practically invisible in front of him. Geralt’s fingers brushed his and something in his chest relaxed, but only for a moment.

“I can’t,” Geralt started, making Jaskier’s heart drop, “make promises.”

And okay that wasn’t the worst he could have said but also - uh what ? “Okay? Well I- I’m not asking you to?”

“Hmm.”

“Geralt, I- I had a really nice time with you, you know? And I’d really like to have more… nice times with you. And not just sex, I mean, yes, sex was fantastic, it was , but also, well- what I mean is, I don’t expect you to like, abandon your life or whatever, I just-” he was running out of breath. “Gosh I’m talking too much again, fuck, please, say something? I’m getting zero feedback here and you have to know I’m gonna keep talking until you cut me off-”

“Sorry,” Geralt sighed, his fingers threading between Jaskier’s. “It’s just- This is… I haven’t been with someone in a while and,” he said with hesitation and left the sentence unfinished.

And never with a man , Jaskier thought, pretty sure of what was coming next. “Right,” he said, feeling his throat tighten. Not like he wasn’t used to falling for people who just didn’t have the same life plan- or day plan , even.

“But I think I would,” Geralt said, “like to see you again, I mean.”

“Wait, what?“ Jaskier’s brain derailed.

“I’d like to see you again?” Geralt repeated and it sounded even better the second time.

“Oh.”

"I… had a nice time, too.”

“Oh. Good,” Jaskier whispered, relief washing over him and unlocking the door to yearning. He moved forward, closer to Geralt, his hand sliding up to his shoulder, finding his cheek and feeling the beginning of a stubble under his fingers. “Good,” Jaskier murmured again. Feeling Geralt lean into him was the best reward. He moved his head closer and his nose rubbed softly against Geralt’s, the intimacy sweeter than some of the sex he’d had in the past.

Geralt inclined his head slightly and pressed a chaste, tender kiss against Jaskier’s lips.

Once they parted, phone numbers were exchanged and the soft wish of getting in touch soon was expressed - or, rather, as Jaskier put it as he walked Geralt to the door, “in touch and, well, in touch .” A freaking poet.

The morning after they “had a milkshake” - as Jaskier nicknamed their first close encounter - Geralt had gone home right before sunrise to find Eskel wide awake, sitting on the living room couch, a book on his lap. Eskel had looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and pressed his lips together to suppress a smile. “Coffee?” was all he had said and Geralt had been oh so grateful.

In the days that followed, he learned a bit more about Jaskier. He taught both poetry and musicology at university, gave private lessons, and performed with his band from time to time. Spring meant preparing finals, helping students to rehearse for auditions, and getting ready for the upcoming festivals The Bard would participate in. Between his schedule and Geralt’s, over a month had gone before they saw each other in the flesh again. But texting? Texting was definitely a Jaskier thing.

A couple of hours after Geralt had left, Jaskier had sent him a text saying “my bed misses you” . Geralt had promptly walked from one meeting to another, only realising at 6.30 pm during a phone call from Assengard, as he caught sight of the restaurant from across the street, that he had left Jaskier hanging. He tried to think of something clever on his way to pick Ciri up from her fencing class. To his surprise, his idea had worked very well on Jaskier.

Of course, as with most things concerning Jaskier, Geralt quickly discovered, it was prone to get out of hand. The man had decided that “the milkshake” would become “a thing”. The fact that Geralt’s favourite order at Denise’s included a vanilla milkshake with cream on top was apparently hilarious for reasons Geralt could not understand.

Since then, Geralt would receive texts from Jaskier every few days, ranging from “thinking of u” to “which one of these says ‘I am a 100%-responsible adult person who will turn your child into a virtuoso if you allow me to teach them?’” with a picture of two button-down shirts attached.

Geralt had left him on read , the bastard.

After the six most frustrating weeks of his life - yes, more frustrating than the whole summer he spent sharing a flat with a Spanish model who had very loud, very heterosexual sex on the other side of their paper-thin, shared bedroom wall - Jaskier finally got his hands back on his favourite lawyer’s ass.

They had agreed Geralt would meet him at his place that Friday after work. And so, Jaskier spent the afternoon trying to convince himself he could mark students’ essays, and was absolutely not in the hellish head-space where nervousness meets horniness. (He made it through five so he counted it as a win.)

He had changed outfits three times in two hours, and had promised Essi he absolutely was not falling for some seemingly perfect person who would then turn out to have a secret wife, three children and a dog (“Well since you’re asking, he has a very public ex-wife, one daughter, and a horse.” “A horse?” “Yup.” “What the hell?” “I have no fucking clue.”)

Jaskier was busy adjusting a sofa pillow to make it appear tidy-but-casual when the bell rang, making him jump out of his skin.

When he opened the door, Geralt looked like he was two seconds away from running back down the stairs and disappearing forever in some mysterious vineyard near Toussaint. Geralt, being the absolute asshole that he was, also looked like a fucking god amongst humans so Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of him once again. He had almost forgotten how stunning the man was.

“Hi,” Geralt said.

Jaskier shook himself out of his dreamy smitten state and felt a tingle in his cheeks as he blushed. “Hey, come on in,” he said, waving the man inside.

Geralt had his hair tied in a casual bun and was wearing a black winter coat way above Jaskier’s pay grade. Gods, what a sight. Jaskier was fucked .

“Are you-”

“So how’s-”

They both started and stopped at the same time, which made Jaskier laugh and Geralt shake his head as he looked away, a side of his mouth rising into a smile. Boy, Jaskier thought, if Geralt was half as fond of him as he was of Geralt, they’d be married in three years, move to a farm in five, and adopt every stray dog in the area a year after that at the latest.

“Can I take your coat?” Jaskier offered.

As Geralt nodded, Jaskier got his hands on the lapels of Geralt’s coat, fingers absent-mindedly pressing against Geralt’s chest, feeling the soft wool, and the strong pecs underneath all the layers. A moment passed and he realised Geralt hadn’t moved an inch. He stopped staring at his own hand and, as he looked up, realised Geralt was looking at him. Or more like, looking at his mouth.

There was a beat and they both moved forward, catching each other’s lips.

“Fuck, is it ok to say I’ve missed you?” Jaskier breathed between two kisses.

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, pushing Jaskier against the door and leaving his lips to kiss and suck the skin of his neck.

“Ah, okay, I’ll take that as a yes,” he half-moaned and got Geralt’s mouth back against his, kissing like he just couldn’t get enough- because he couldn’t. Geralt got rid of his coat, letting it fall onto the floor.

“M-maybe we should take a second to hang it. It looks expensive.”

“It’s a gift from my ex,” Geralt mumbled against Jaskier’s skin, biting tentatively at his Adam’s apple.

“Or we could stomp all over it,” Jaskier deadpanned. Geralt laughed against his throat and Jaskier felt it resonate through his chest.

“So you’re the possessive kind, then?”

“Uh,” Jaskier bit his lip, “only if that turns you on.”

Geralt kissed a line up to Jaskier’s ear and caressed him through his trousers as he nibbled at his earlobe. In the softest, most quiet whisper, he murmured: “It does.”

Jaskier groaned with pleasure and Geralt kissed him in earnest, his hand still fondling the man’s inseam. He pressed his pelvis against Jaskier’s and both moaned from the supplementary friction.

“Let me try something?” Geralt asked against Jaskier’s lips before promptly getting down onto his knees.

“Oh, wow, okay,” Jaskier gasped as Geralt went straight for his belt. “Ah- w-wait, you- you sure?”

Geralt rolled his eyes, undoing the man’s button and zipper until Jaskier’s hands came to rest softly over his.

“No, I’m serious, you don’t have to.”

"I know,” Geralt answered, looking up at him. “I want to.”

“Okay. Okay. Just stop if it’s not good with you, right?”

“Right.”

He pulled Jaskier’s trousers down, not wasting any time. The curved line of his hardening cock was obvious under his underwear and Geralt slowed down, caressing the back of Jaskier’s thigh with one hand, the other moving up to his crotch. He palmed Jaskier through his boxer briefs (his navy blue boxer briefs) and was delighted to see him try to control his breathing through the surging wave of desire.

“Take them off for me?” Geralt asked, his voice rough with arousal.

Jaskier breathed out shakingly and slid his thumbs under the waistband, pulling his underwear down under Geralt’s relentless attention. Unable to stop himself, Jaskier took his own cock in hand and stroked himself, humming with pleasure with the first movement of his wrist. Geralt was sitting on his ankles, mesmerised.

“You like watching?” Jaskier asked, and even though the answer was pretty obvious, Geralt didn’t say it out loud. He raised to his knees, kissing the inside of Jaskier’s thighs, every breath softly tickling Jaskier’s skin, the hand maintaining its rhythm.

Moving upwards, Geralt’s tongue darted out to lick Jaskier’s balls, surprising him so much the back of his head hit the door, generating a moan which turned into a wince and then back into a moan again. Geralt’s smile shaped the kiss he pressed on Jaskier’s thigh as his fingers brushed through the man’s pubic hair, and slid up to find Jaskier’s hand, slowing it down.

Jaskier felt Geralt’s hot breath coming closer to his cock and had to bite his lower lip when the other man’s lips brushed against his fingers, kissing them one by one, silently asking him to let go. Jaskier didn’t need much convincing until, of course, fuck his goddamn unstoppable brain, a thought occurred to him.

“Wait!” he exclaimed and, at least, was blessed with the sight of Geralt looking up at him with surprise, his lips apart, tongue visible, and… Fuck, he looked so innocent and yet devilishly hot like this.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Just- safety, right? You can, uh, get STIs. From, you know, sucking off someone unprotected. So you should be safe, you know.”

“Uh,” Geralt frowned. “Do you have STIs I should worry about?”

“No, I’m clean. I just mean, you know, in general.”

“I don’t need sex ed, Jaskier.”

“I know,“ he said, unconvincingly. "I’m just saying. Cause, like, it matters, and, you… well, you know.”

“I know,” he nodded even though he didn’t really. “Anything else?” he asked, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“Well, you shouldn’t take my word for it.”

“What?” Well, he only had himself to blame, right? He did ask.

“That I’m clean. I mean you can’t take people’s word for it, sometimes people just-”

“ Jaskier. I’ve slept with strangers before,” Geralt said bluntly, missing the brief pained look on Jaskier’s face at being classified as a stranger . “You’re clean. I’m clean. If you’re fine with this, I’m fine with this.”

“Yes. Yeah, I am. I am. Sorry,” Jaskier shook his head. “Did I just ruin it? It’s just, it matters you know, so I figured-”

“Jask. I get it. It’s fine,” Geralt said, rubbing his thumbs on each of Jaskier’s hip bones. “Can I suck your cock, now?” he asked softly. Jaskier’s worries disappeared from his mind instantly, and he nodded enthusiastically about twelve times above the consent limit.

Geralt took him into his hand and stroked him, slowly but firmly, further limiting his brain’s already diminished access to oxygen. Geralt’s other hand had reached out to fondle his ass and his fingers began to lightly drum along the back of Jaskier’s thigh, brushing softly, ghosting against his skin, and sending a brand new kind of sparks of want to Jaskier’s cock.

After a few strokes, Geralt brought his lips to the base of Jaskier’s shaft, kissing the hairs in a way one could have described as chaste if it hadn’t been happening so close to another man’s dick. He then proceeded to drop fuller kisses on the soft skin of Jaskier’s cock, pressing his lips against the skin almost reverently as his hand kept working Jaskier. When he was satisfied with the soft noises and the sound of fast breathing above him, he guided his hand back to the base of Jaskier’s cock, pumping a few times before guiding the tip of Jaskier’s dick to his mouth as he licked .

“Fffuck-” Jaskier gasped, and Geralt smiled.

Wetting his lips, he opened his mouth and wrapped it around the very tip of Jaskier’s cock, kissing it wetly, his tongue running against the underside. He let go, only to kiss the side of the head with an open mouth and then took Jaskier’s cock again.

As soon as he had run into Geralt at the bar, Jaskier had been both mindlessly infatuated and completely unsure what to expect. Geralt’s enthusiasm for learning to give head was definitely one of the things he didn’t see coming.

Geralt’s hand fondled his butt cheek again. As he pressed the tip of his fingers lightly against his sacrum, Jaskier sighed and angled his pelvis forward the way Geralt’s hand invited him to. Geralt took a slow breath through his nose, obviously trying to relax as much as he could as he moved forward, taking in a little more of Jaskier in his mouth and sliding his lips over the ring of Jaskier’s cock.

“Oh,” escaped from Jaskier’s lips as Geralt drew back slightly and took more of him again. “Oh darling, oh, yes, that’s good,” he stammered, caressing Geralt’s cheek before drawing back and slapping his hand against the door to ground himself and to restrain from grabbing the back of Geralt’s neck.

Geralt groaned softly at the loss, reaching out for Jaskier’s hand, closing his eyes as soon as he felt Jaskier’s touch again. He moaned as he kept sucking him slowly, clearly enjoying the guiding hand on his cheek.

“Oh, darling,” Jaskier moaned. His thumb rubbed softly against Geralt’s stubbly cheekbone before his hand slid against his cheek and jaw encouragingly. “Oh, that’s good, yeah that’s- Keep going, love,” he whispered again.

Biting his lower lip, Jaskier kept caressing Geralt’s cheek, whispering sweet nothings and sliding his fingers through the other man’s hair, convinced Geralt would have purred around his cock if he could.

"That’s really good, sweetheart,” and as Geralt enthusiastically took him a tad deeper, he just couldn’t help himself. “Oh, that’s my good boy ,” he moaned and Geralt all but choked on his dick.

Pulling back and resting a hand against the floor, half-slipping on his discarded coat, Geralt coughed and tried to get his breath back from choking on his own spit.

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry-” Jaskier kneeled by him hastily - and heavily . Having his jeans pooled around his knees wasn’t exactly helping him be graceful. “You alright?”

“Fine,” Geralt rasped, a bright shade of pink all over his face. He coughed again.

“Do you need a drink or something?”

Geralt laughed brokenly through a cough. “To help me forget I could have bitten your dick off?” he asked and Jaskier huffed.

“Don’t be silly,” he smiled, brushing away the hair across Geralt’s face as he leaned to kiss him. “This cock has seen worse.”

“That’s always comforting,” Geralt mumbled against his lips.

Jaskier laughed and caught his lips into another kiss, enjoying the way Geralt sighed comfortably, and held on to the back of his neck. His hand wandered to find the hem of Geralt’s shirt and slipped under his waistband before he arrived at a bright idea. “What if - and I know it’s going to be a very bold, and novel concept, but hear me out - what if we stopped using my front door and living room floor as acceptable fucking surfaces and straight out moved to the bed?”

“Hmm,” Geralt mused falsely. “Didn’t know there was anything straight about you,” he snarked and was met with a playful slap on the breast accompanied by Jaskier’s cackling laughter.

“Oh, look who’s talking now!”

They fumbled to get Jaskier back on his feet - “well I do love to spend time on my knees” - and got rid of the jeans which were annoyingly getting in their way, to then move on to the bedroom.

His bedroom, Jaskier decided, was absolutely ruined . Nothing would ever look better than Geralt sprawled on his bed, naked, his hard cock pressed against his lower belly. If Geralt ever decided to break things off with him - a thought which, despite people often calling him dramatic, he knew was perfectly realistic - Jaskier would have to change the room entirely. He would repaint the walls, get new furniture, burn the bed, maybe, or - to simplify - move places. No, there was no way a single soul could ever sleep on sheets which had touched Geralt’s skin without missing his presence like any respectable bard would miss their medieval lute.

At that moment, however, this bard was straddling Geralt’s lap, his arms around Geralt’s neck, while being held around his middle and kissed languorously. They were both naked, every inch of skin yearning to feel the other, and not a single thing was amiss.

“Would you like to touch yourself for me, darling?” Jaskier asked between two kisses, his voice low and syrupy.

A groan came from the bottom of Geralt’s throat and vibrated against Jaskier’s tongue.

“Fuck, I love the noises you make,” he whispered against Geralt’s lips, catching the man’s tongue in another open-mouth kiss.

Geralt started stroking his own cock and howled, and Jaskier broke the kiss unintentionally, unable to stop smiling at the sheer bestiality of the man.

Jaskier smacked his lips against Geralt’s a few more times as Geralt chased his mouth for more. Curving his hand around Geralt’s cheek, he kissed him one more time before slipping his thumb on his lips. He didn’t expect Geralt to kiss his finger, chastely, then lick its tip and lustfully take it in his mouth. Jaskier didn’t sigh as much as he whined .

“Would you prepare yourself for me?” Jaskier asked, making his intentions clearer, his voice a bit hesitant but hopeful.

Geralt let go of his thumb, letting Jaskier caress his lips lovingly. “Maybe it’s better if you do it,” he said, kissing the inside of Jaskier’s palm in an obvious attempt to hide his face.

“Is it?” Jaskier asked, and Geralt closed his eyes, something like regret written on his face.

“I’m not very good at it,” he grimaced.

“You’ve done it before?”

Geralt hummed, uncomfortable. “Since last time,” he clarified. “It didn’t really- I don’t know, maybe it’s not my thing,” he shrugged, still avoiding Jaskier’s eyes.

“Hey,” Jaskier whispered, his voice coated with kindness, unable to stop himself as he tipped Geralt’s chin up and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips. “You can’t become a virtuoso on the first try,” he said.

Geralt frowned but then hid his discomfort behind a playful look. “Are you saying my ass is a musical instrument-”

“Shush, you!” Jaskier giggled. “I’m trying to be serious, for once!” he chastised him.

Geralt snickered and hid his face back into Jaskier’s hand, softly kissing his wrist.

“Maybe you had one of the best orgasms of your life the first time you rubbed one out but we , regular human beings, had to work for it,” he paused for more dramatic flair. “L ong and hard and again and again …” he wiggled his eyebrows and Geralt snorted. “We learn what feels good and what doesn’t. Just because you’re ol-” Geralt gave him a pointed look “ -der doesn’t mean you don’t need to get to know yourself.”

“Nice save,” Geralt deadpanned.

“I know, right? Almost seamless,” Jaskier smiled back, clearly full of shit, and went in for a kiss.

“Hmm,” Geralt sighed. “I think I’d rather-” he hesitated, “get on with it, you know.”

“Get on with it?” It was Jaskier’s turn to raise an unconvinced eyebrow.

“Yeah, just get it done.”

“My, what a romantic you are,” Jaskier snickered and Geralt rolled his eyes, trying to make amends by rubbing Jaskier’s skin with his thumb where his hand rested on his hip.

“You just said it, first times suck. I just gotta- get through it and then, well. Hopefully, we get to the good stuff.”

“G- get through it ? You know this isn’t CrossFit, right?”

Geralt snorted. “You know what I mean,” Geralt said, then bit his lip as he frowned, pressing his forehead against Jaskier’s. “You know I’m not-,” he waved his hand, “good at this.”

“Words?”

He puffed. “Yeah, words.”

“Yeah, I got that. I hear you.” Jaskier smoothly brushed a strand of hair back behind Geralt’s ear. “There’s something else I heard. ‘First times suck’ ? Well challenge accepted, my dear,” he said and Geralt laughed as he kissed him again.

Geralt let himself be slowly pushed down to the bed as they kissed, his hands moving up Jaskier’s back, feeling the muscles along the way. His hand reached the back of Jaskier’s neck, covering it for a moment before he buried his fingers into the man’s hair as they softly ground against each other.

Jaskier slid his hand between them, giving both of their cocks a pull before moving lower. “Raise your legs for me, darling?” he asked in low tones, sliding his hands under Geralt’s knees. He could feel Geralt slightly tensing up as he set his feet to the mattress. It didn’t feel like it had anything to do with the scar Jaskier had brushed with his fingertips.

“Shouldn’t I be on my hands and knees?” he asked in a breath while Jaskier’s hands found their way back to his chest.

“You could,” he kissed a spot on his jaw, caressing Geralt’s pectoral. “You don’t have to.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier?” his voice was fairly tight and Jaskier faintly wondered if it was any clue to the state of his ass- and then kept the thought very much to his stupid dick-jokes self.

“Nah, not necessarily,” he whispered, trying to make his hands into a calming, solid presence against Geralt’s skin, caressing his breasts, his ribs, his clavicles, lining his scars with the care they deserved. Whichever God carved this man’s body, Jaskier swore to worship them until the end of his days.

“It can be straining to hold that position. Also…” Jaskier raised himself to face Geralt, picking up the man’s hand as it slipped over his shoulder and kissed the root of each finger. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable with it,” he said. “We don’t have to do it today.” He weaved his fingers between Geralt’s and kissed their tips. “And we don’t have to do it ever.”

Geralt’s face became closed off as he took a slow breath in, bolting up the gates before Jaskier had a chance to read him. He raised to meet Jaskier, his hand finding the perfect place at the back of his neck, and kissed him earnestly.

“I want you to fuck me,” he said against his lips.

“Yeah?” Jaskier gasped. “Got you, loud and clear,” Jaskier whispered and leaned into another kiss.

He broke away from Geralt to reach his nightstand drawer, pulling out some lube and condoms. He grabbed a pillow, invited Geralt to raise his hips and slid it underneath.

“Now, where was I?” he said under his breath, settling between Geralt’s legs and rubbing their bodies against each other. Geralt moaned and wrapped a leg around Jaskier’s pelvis, grinding back eagerly.

Holding his thigh with one hand, Jaskier began kissing his neck, licking and biting the skin at his throat, intending to take care of every inch of Geralt’s body. He licked one of Geralt’s nipples, extracting a moan from Geralt when he sucked and scraped his teeth against the strong muscle of his tit. Feeling Geralt slowly relax under his hands, he headed lower, kissing the pale hairy line that led from his navel to his cock.

He squeezed Geralt’s cock gently, carefully caressing the tip with his thumb and watching the precome spread, shiny against the soft skin. He looked up at Geralt as he moved his hand steadily up and down, a spark of ecstasy jumping from his heart to his cock at the sight of Geralt, eyes closed, biting his lower lip. Every moment assured Jaskier that pleasuring this man was actually his entire life’s purpose.

Geralt hummed with pleasure as Jaskier wrapped his lips around his cock, already struggling not to buck his hips when Jaskier took more of him in his mouth.

Jaskier couldn’t help but hum around his dick as he took it in, playing with depth and rhythm like a true maestro, his fingers threading through the light grey curls of Geralt’s pubes. He then let go of Geralt’s cock with an obscene pop that made him laugh and licked up from the spot right above Geralt’s balls.

Geralt’s hips stirred in both pleasure and surprise.

Jaskier got his hands back on the lube as he kissed and licked the man’s balls, encouraged by the whines and groans that escaped Geralt’s throat. He warmed his lubed fingers against each other and caressed Geralt’s ass with what he wouldn’t deny was absolute adoration. “Can I touch you, darling?” he asked, his voice a bit rough.

Geralt breathed a “yeah” and sounded almost like he was begging but Jaskier gracefully didn’t comment on it. (He, however, definitely took note.) Instead, he slid a hand between Geralt’s cheeks and brushed a finger against his hole as his mouth drove back down Geralt’s beautifully thick cock.

Jaskier teased a little, trying out different pressures against the man’s hole before the song of Geralt’s moans left no room for doubt. He slid his forefinger in while his other hand caressed Geralt’s inner thigh and finally felt the heat of Geralt’s body wrapped around his finger. He pulled back slightly and pushed again, this time steadily driving his finger deeper, synching his hand with the movements of his neck.

Despite Geralt’s frequent struggles with words, his gasps and moans were graced with great clarity and proved sufficient to let Jaskier know he was right to keep going. As far as non-verbal cues go, he also quickly found delight in feeling the walls of Geralt’s ass tightening around him and the taste of more precome coating his tongue.

“ Ah , your mouth,” Geralt moaned, reaching out and grasping onto Jaskier’s hair.

Jaskier closed his eyes and moaned, aching for better friction than the bit of sheet he could rub his cock against. Grabbing the lube with one hand, he couldn’t help but jerk himself a couple of times as Geralt’s hand kept pulling his hair with each bop of his head.

Pointedly slowing down and looking up, he waited for Geralt’s attention to focus on him. He made a point of keeping their eyes locked as he shamelessly pulled up and let go of his cock. “D’you want another finger, honey?” he asked, perfectly aware of how depraved he had to look with his hair astray and his lips as probably as crimson as the tip of Geralt’s cock.

Geralt pulled him closer and met him with a crushing kiss as he nodded and moaned against Jaskier’s brow. “Hm- wait,” he breathed, holding Jaskier back as he started to let go, “I haven’t touched you at all,” he complained, his hands cupping Jaskier’s ass in a kind but firm grasp.

“Ah- It’s alright, love,” Jaskier said. “We’ve got time for that,” he smiled against Geralt’s lips but before he could leave again, Geralt grabbed his hand.

“I want you to feel as good as I do,” he breathed.

“Oh, trust me, darling, I’m feeling fantastic,” Jaskier grinned. They kissed one more time before Geralt let go of him and Jaskier drove his attention back to his lover’s lower body.

Geralt sighed as he settled his head back against his pillow, muttering something about how Jaskier was going to kill him.

Jaskier brought one hand at the base of Geralt’s cock, put his mouth back to work and fingered him a little while longer before adding another slick finger. Geralt whined and Jaskier reached out for his hand, threading their fingers together, hoping Geralt would know it was his way of checking in before Geralt sighed “ Yeah, s’good ,” in a tone that sounded pretty far gone.

He fucked Geralt with his fingers a few tentative times and curled them softly on the way out. In case he had any doubt his fingers were brushing against the right spot, Geralt’s hips jerked, driving his cock further down Jaskier’s throat.

“Ah, fuck ,” Geralt moaned. “Fuck, sorry,” slipped from his lips as if he was holding back so many more words.

Jaskier squeezed his hand in reassurance and kept sucking on Geralt’s dick until he could feel him tremble. He rubbed against Geralt’s prostate, drinking in every noise leaving the man’s lips, every movement revealing his pleasure.

“Ah, Jask,” Geralt moaned again, clutching to Jaskier’s hand like nothing would ever be able to make him let go. “Jas- Jaskier, ah , Jask, wait, I’m gonna-”

His hips buckled and his back raised from the mattress as he came, mouth open, gasping. He moaned and groaned as Jaskier kept fucking him onto his fingers until he was done spilling.

Jaskier slid his fingers out of Geralt’s ass, unable not to pull on his own cock even as he wiped off his mouth and tried to catch his breath, resting his forehead against the soft flesh of Geralt’s hip.

“Fuck,” Geralt whispered as he stretched, the last tingles of pleasure leaving his body. He brought his hands to his face, covering his blush and groaned “ fuck ” in a wholly different tone.

“Hey,” Jaskier gasped, slowing down the movements of his wrist and bringing his other hand to touch Geralt’s arm. “Hey, you alright?”

“Hmm,” he groaned from under his hands.

“What’s wrong, darling?” he asked and Geralt huffed.

“I just came like a teenager, darling ,” Geralt mumbled, the edge of his sarcasm largely smoothed out by post-coital bliss.

Jaskier chuckled. “No, you didn’t. You held up really well,” he said, caressing Geralt’s forearm. “My charms were simply too mighty for you to keep it in any longer,” he whispered, and kissed his other wrist and hand, hoping Geralt would emerge from his hiding place.

Geralt groaned again, unconvinced, but let his hand slip away when Jaskier kissed his knuckles, allowing the other man to paint his cheek with the sweet brush of his lips.

“I wanted you,” Geralt whispered, in a weak, almost plaintive way.

“I’m still right here, love,” Jaskier whispered back. “You still have me,” he said at the corner of Geralt’s lips, pressing his mouth softly against his. He found Geralt pressing back with the same tenderness then savouring the taste his own come on Jaskier’s tongue.

They stayed like this for a moment, simply enjoying the warmth of each other’s arms, slowly kissing and holding each other.

“Do you need me?” Geralt asked after Jaskier buckled against his hips involuntarily.

“If your schedule allows it,” Jaskier joked, hiding his face in his neck and humming as he rubbed himself against Geralt.

“What do you want?” Geralt asked, caressing the length of Jaskier’s back, pressing his fingers along the muscles, waking up every fibre of Jaskier’s body.

“This,” Jaskier murmured, “This is perfect.”

He rubbed himself slowly against Geralt as the man covered him in caresses, the callousness of Geralt’s hands contrasting with the softness of his gestures. He ground against Geralt’s hip lazily, welcoming the pressure of Geralt’s hands on his ass, feeling the imprint of each finger into his flesh. His cock was still smeared with lube and the mess he’d spit onto Geralt’s pelvis made for a dirty, wonderful help.

“You look so good like this,” Geralt whispered, kissing a spot under his ear. “You feel so good against me,” he said softly, his tenderness almost making Jaskier come on the spot.

“ Ah , please, touch me,” he begged and Geralt reached for his cock like a servant knight, enthusiastically escorting him to rapture as Jaskier fucked into his hand again and again and again , his shout resonating through the bedroom as he came.

Geralt held him as Jaskier made his way back down, their bodies sweaty and well spent, comfortably intertwined.

After a while during which Jaskier’s mind drifted and fluttered between sleep and consciousness, he adjusted his body to kiss the side of Geralt’s jaw.

“Care to be introduced to my shower?” he asked sleepily.

“Hmm. Good call,” Geralt nodded, and pressed a kiss against his temple.

When Geralt walked out of the shower, freshly cleaned up and smelling like Jaskier’s lemon soap, his clothes were neatly arranged on the bed. He got dressed and followed the sound of Jaskier’s humming, finding him in the kitchen frowning at some delivery menus. He was biting his lip, seeming pretty conflicted and Geralt surprised himself thinking: shit, he’s cute.

He kept expecting to have a change of heart any minute now. It was, after all, bound to happen, the next logical step, the most probable outcome: one morning he would wake up and realise that surely this had all been fun but he wasn’t into it anymore. He just had gotten a bit confused and wasn’t actually feeling so much for this man- or any other man, or any other person for that matter.

After splitting up with Yen, he thought he’d never grow fond of someone enough to want anything (at least anything more than sex, but even sex was quite low on his list of priorities). With Jaskier, though- it was like every other day, Geralt would find another thing he’d like to share with the handsome man who had run into him and insisted on sticking around.

“Hey,” Jaskier said, noticing him in the doorway. “So I was thinking, either Casa Lauretta or Athumani’s Kitchen , what do you think? And before you say anything- I know , take out again, but I can’t both try to seduce you and subject you to my cooking.”

Geralt snorted. “You’ve had me in your bed already. Twice. ” he said, raising a playful eyebrow. “At what point will you consider me successfully seduced?”

“Uh, I don’t know, some time between the third dog and the second honeymoon, I guess?” Jaskier pretended to ponder.

Geralt blinked at him and his smile froze on his face. He often struggled with words to begin with but Jaskier mastered the art of leaving him speechless. Banter was his realm. Jaskier knew the terrain by heart and he revelled in it. He was light on his feet and quick on his toes. Every time Geralt tried to play his game and stepped towards Jaskier, the distance separating them seemed to grow.

He felt like a novice trying to catch up with a man who had hiked the trail his whole life, knew its twists and turns by heart. No matter how much he tried to relax and enjoy the sights by Jaskier’s side, he still felt the man would always be ahead of him. Like he would never be able to catch up and stay stuck in the land of the new and uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat. “What’s in these cupboards of yours?“ he asked, brushing past Jaskier to open a few of them. At first, the answer seemed to be both everything and not much at all . But after initial confusion, he realised Jaskier might actually have a system.

Items weren’t sorted by kind but rather by what goes well together: canned mushrooms next to rice, coconut milk next to curry powder, sliced bread between jam and mustard. He wasn’t sure why "365 Lesser-known Eastern Medieval Poems” was stacked with cereals, or why Jaskier’s watch was in a bowl, but he could find out with time.

Something tickled the back of his neck and he realised Jaskier was playing with his hair, a bit of a smitten look on his face. As Geralt looked at him, Jaskier froze and blushed.

“Sorry,” he said, retreating his hand. “I love your hair,” he said sheepishly.

“I lost my hairband somewhere,” Geralt said, looking around.

“It looks good like this too,” Jaskier said. “Pretty sure it looks good all the time,” he smiled and brushed an escapee strand of hair back behind Geralt’s ear.

And here it was: another immensely confusing thing about Jaskier. The man radiated self-confidence 99% of the time. He could bathe in the attention of a crowd, flirt shamelessly with a complete stranger and whisper the filthiest words, dirtiest things- he could fantasize out loud about getting married to a man he’d only known for a few weeks. Yet there was also a shyness about the smallest of things, a vulnerability . It made Geralt want to pick him up and take him to safety- and he was perfectly aware of how ridiculous that sounded. But it felt like maybe, Jaskier’s hidden, more reserved side was a path where they could meet halfway.

He leaned towards him and kissed the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. “Thank you,” he said.

Jaskier smiled and his whole face illuminated. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Good,” Geralt nodded, taking his attention back to the cupboard. And so here he was again, taking a step back on what had started to feel like a comfortable route and stiffly navigating in between the metaphorical potholes on the road leading to Jaskier. As it turned out, talking about how his ass felt after getting fingered was not Geralt’s forte either. But Jaskier - in a moment of extreme humility - had described himself as a master of words and rhythm and that’s exactly what he was. He could use any word, touch upon any topic, express any emotion. Jaskier had a whole planisphere at his disposal, a means to take any road; Geralt had shitty directions and a compass that only told North once in a blue moon.

“No pain?”

“No,” he answered, closed the cupboard and exited Jaskier’s personal space to grab the menus. “Maybe delivery’s better, you’re right,” he said.

“Hmm,” Jaskier answered. “You do that a lot,” he pointed out.

Geralt gave him a look above his shoulder. “What?”

“Changing topics. Avoiding conversations,” Jaskier explained lightly. His tone was not judgemental. He was merely making an observation.

And so, “I’m not,” Geralt lied. He only realised he had lied the second he heard himself. Fuck . “I didn’t realise there was more to say.” Less of a lie. Not quite a half-truth.

Jaskier sighed softly and settled next to Geralt, pressing his forearms against the kitchen counter. "Margherita, then?” he asked. Geralt could see the tight shape of his lips and the square angle of his shoulders. Jaskier had obviously seen right through him but was dropping the subject for his sake.

“You’re disappointed,” he said and Jaskier’s head shot back up to look at him.

“With the pizza options?” Jaskier joked weakly.

“With,” he hesitated. “Me.”

“No-” Jaskier argued right away, raising his hand to cut him off. But Geralt knew how it was, what people expected, not unfairly, versus how little he could offer.

“It’s fine,” Geralt said. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I-,” he paused to weigh his words carefully, eyes focused on the menus. "I’m not very good at-” he hesitated then snorted under Jaskier’s confused look. “ Opening up ?” he said, raising an eyebrow in Jaskier’s direction.

Jaskier laughed and reached out to rest his hand over Geralt’s. “Well, we’ve talked about this,” he said, with a shine in his eyes. “Practice makes better.” Geralt hummed, looking at Jaskier’s hand over his. To his surprise, Jaskier retracted his hand somewhat suddenly and he missed the weight of it right away. “And it’s not like we know each other that well, as you said,” he shrugged, at the edge of Geralt’s field of vision.

“I am ok,” he said, answering Jaskier’s previous question more honestly. “Bit weird but ok.” His brain then caught up with Jaskier’s words a moment too late; as you said ?

"Okay,” Jaskier said, offering a shy smile. “I- it’s okay if it doesn’t come naturally to you. I just- well, I’d just like you to be more comfortable with me. But we’ll get there, right?”

Geralt swallowed, closing and opening the hand that was resting on the counter to get rid of a slight tremor. Saying yes would have been another lie. He couldn’t make that promise. He had tried before, thought that maybe if he forced himself to be enough then things would work out eventually- but they hadn’t.

And so it would have been easy to say no , to back off entirely. He could tell Jaskier he wasn’t interested in building something, just wanted an easy fuck, to experiment a bit, and had simply gotten lucky enough to find a guy who wasn’t repelled by his shitty personality and off-putting scars. It would have been so easy- to tell Jaskier, “I don’t know what you thought you were getting out of this, but you won’t get me .” It was complete and absolute bullshit, a sad pack of lies, but it would be so much easier. He could get back to his life, his job, his kid and the handful of friends he still had, and never think about blue eyes or milkshakes again.

If only the thought didn’t make him nauseous.

Fuck, he wanted this.

“This isn’t casual for you, is it?” he asked, voice tight, and Jaskier startled, almost taking a step back. His face made an odd succession of expressions and he opened his mouth a couple of times before closing it again.

“I- I can be casual. I can be very casual. That’s not a problem, that’s not a- but I-,” he sighed and brushed his hand through his hair nervously. “Fuck, you really don’t fuck around, do you?” Geralt tried to come up with something to say but Jaskier shook his head, his voice way calmer now even if a bit wavering. “No. No, I don’t think I want to be casual with you. And- And you- you don’t w-”

“Me neither,” Geralt cut in before panic took over Jaskier.

The man’s eyes grew a little wider. “You neither?” he asked, and fuck if that wasn’t the most obvious display of naked hope Geralt had ever seen on anybody’s face.

Geralt shook his head and Jaskier seemingly had to fight a full-body shiver.

Jaskier walked the two steps separating them and kissed Geralt with his entire soul. When he pulled back, Geralt leaned into him again for another taste of his tongue. He brought a hand to Jaskier’s cheek and kissed him with feeling. When they parted, he kept his eyes closed, pressing his forehead to Jaskier’s, the tip of his fingers grazing the short hair behind his ear.

“I’m not used to wanting…” Geralt said. “Sex is good. But usually I don’t- I don’t want more. With you, I- I don’t want to ru- to leave . And it’s…”

“Weird, isn’t it?” Jaskier offered, his voice tight but tone playful. The shy smile on his lips was a delicious cherry on top, making the teasing even softer. (Little did Jaskier know that a cherry was the only thing in Geralt’s opinion that could ever improve a creamy vanilla milkshake.)

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Geralt huffed. Jaskier kissed him, and after working through so many words, Geralt ran out of things to say. “So, yeah. Margherita’s good,” he whispered, and it was his turn to make Jaskier laugh. The man cleared his throat and sighed like a weight had been taken off his chest.

“I can’t believe you said all that before even knowing Lauretta delivers vanilla milkshakes,” he said and Geralt poked him in the ribs until they half-wrestled, laughing, Jaskier’s back hitting the fridge- and they were kissing again.

They talked over dinner for a while. Jaskier came up with questions for Geralt to answer, helping him ease into a casual conversation. They teased and flirted and laughed, and soon ended up in bed again, tasting each other’s skin and leaning into each other’s curves.

“Full disclosure?” Jaskier whispered against Geralt’s mouth as he was straddling him. “I really fucking love those tits of yours,” he said, cupping Geralt’s chest with his two hands. Geralt scoffed in between two kisses.

“They’re called pecs,” he said, enjoying the way Jaskier’s hands were basically venerating his chest.

“Nuh-uh,” Jaskier replied, “I, good sir, am an artist, not an anatomist, and these are definitely some of the most magnificent boobies I have ever had the chance to see, touch and lick,” he said, brushing a nipple with his thumb while kissing Geralt’s jaw.

Geralt snorted and kept caressing Jaskier’s incredibly precious ass.

Jaskier sighed with contentment. “So, tell me your secret,” he mumbled against Geralt’s skin, finding a tendon in Geralt’s neck and following it with his lips, tongue and teeth. “How does a corporate lawyer get as buff as you?”

Geralt’s laugh was more of a scoff as he felt the more-or-less accidental brush of Jaskier’s cock against his.

“You’re one to talk,” he groaned, getting his hand into Jaskier’s hair and pulling him into a kiss. “Have you seen yourself, Professor?”

Jaskier suddenly pulled back, eyes wide and cheeks pink. “I- well- I mean I’m nothing close to- Your body is,” he huffed, seemingly at loss for words which was a very odd thing coming from Jaskier.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, bringing his hand to the small of the man’s back, and squinted. “You know you’re hot, right?” he asked seriously and witnessed Jaskier dissolve into a fit of giggles, ducking his head and blushing even harder.

“I’m- nah, I’m not-”

“ Jaskier ,” Geralt repeated with intent.

“I mean, I’m fine but I’m not- you’re like a, a- an underwear supermodel.”

Geralt snorted. “Right, they do love bodies covered with scar tissue in underwear magazines,” he said self-deprecatingly, making Jaskier frown.

“Don’t do that. You’re beautiful,” he chastised.

“If you say so-” Geralt shrugged.

“I do say so. Les Dessous de Beauclair can go fuck itself,” Jaskier replied and Geralt snorted again.

“Point still stands,” Geralt said. “You’re hot.”

Jaskier looked away again, biting his lower lip. “Wh-,” he started and then closed his mouth right away.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head.

“Jaskier? I’m the one who isn’t much of a talker. There can’t be two of us,” he said, and Jaskier laughed, then hid his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s shoulders.

“What do you like about me?” he asked, his voice so small Geralt barely heard him. He let a moment pass, wondering where to start and how. He slid a hand at the back of Jaskier’s neck, caressing the short strands of hair.

“This,” he said. “Your hair right here. It’s short but long enough that I can grab it,” he felt Jaskier smile against his neck.

” Kinky ,“ Jaskier whispered.

“And I like your eyes,” Geralt said, too focused on picking the right words to get sidetracked. “At the bar, I-” he hesitated, pacing himself. “I noticed your eyes first,” he said and swallowed.

Jaskier hugged him tighter. “I love your eyes too,” he mumbled into Geralt’s hair. "They’re incredible.”

Geralt managed to duck his head and press a soft kiss below Jaskier’s ear. “Your cheekbones,” he said, his mouth finding the sweet spot at the base of Jaskier’s neck. “Your shoulders,” he whispered, kissing Jaskier’s clavicle, loosening their embrace to keep going lower. “Your collarbones,” he nipped his teeth at the bone above Jaskier’s chest, “they’re really, really hot,” he said and Jaskier giggled, still hiding his face by pressing his forehead against Geralt’s temple.

Geralt brought his hands up Jaskier’s back and felt him shiver, Jaskier’s hips startling gently against his, bringing a soft moan from the both of them. “Your back,” he said, “I really love your back- and your ass, gods ,” he linked his hands behind Jaskier’s neck and rolled his hips, their moans echoing through the room. “ Ah , and those fucking arms of yours,” Geralt whispered. “Have you seen those arms?” he repeated, still softly rubbing their cocks together with slow movements of his hips and caressing Jaskier’s arm. “I’m sure you could lift me up with those arms,” he said and Jaskier groaned. “Would you like that?” he asked. “Would you- would you like to hold me up and fuck me?”

“Oh, fuck,” Jaskier moaned, his face pressed against Geralt’s cheek. “Fuck, fuck, yes, yes please, yes,” he begged, and Geralt grabbed the hair at the back of his neck and pulled just enough for Jaskier to whine with pleasure as they both rushed in an almost bruising kiss.

Jaskier had a hard time pulling away from Geralt, but finally managed to turn towards the bedside table to retrieve lube and condoms.

Geralt flushed himself against his back, tearing a moan from Jaskier as his hand directly went for Jaskier’s cock and Geralt’s dick rubbed against his ass.

“Oh fuck, yeah- yeah , we gotta do this some time too, darling,” he panted and Geralt groaned, grinding against him.

“You would like that?” he breathed, his voice low and coated with desire.

“Gods, I’d fuck you anyway you want, darling-” he moaned, “-but fffuck , if you keep going, there isn’t going to be much left of me.”

Geralt chuckled against him. He pulled back, freeing Jaskier from his embrace and sitting back against the wall.

Jaskier kneeled in between his legs and tore the package open, sliding the condom on his cock, realising after raising his eyes that he was under Geralt’s scrutiny.

“You okay?” he asked at the exact moment Geralt breathed “Come here.”

Somehow they crashed into each other, and yet fit each other’s shapes perfectly.

Geralt raised on his knees, thighs parted, Jaskier’s hands moving from his cock to his balls, making his hips jerk and his teeth close on Jaskier’s lower lip as he moaned. Jaskier slid his fingers further, caressing the sweet spot of Geralt’s perineum, making Geralt break the kiss as he gasped.

“Fuck, please, Jask-”

“I’ve got you,” Jaskier murmured, kissing him again and coating his fingers with lube.

Geralt tried his hardest not to jerk himself off here and now, attempting to focus on rubbing Jaskier’s cock while his other arm rested around the man’s neck.

Jaskier teased the rim of his asshole and got a quick return on his investment as Geralt pulled a little harder on his dick, tearing a moan from his lips. He chuckled a bit breathlessly and slid a finger inside Geralt easily. It didn’t take long at all before a second finger joined the first.

“You okay, darling?” Jaskier breathed and Geralt nodded against his cheek.

For a while, they stayed like this, settled against each other, Jaskier slowly fingering him until Geralt couldn’t stop clenching around his fingers and asking for more.

When three fingers curved into him and caressed his prostate, Geralt thought he was going to come undone. “Fuck- fuck, fuck, fuck, Jaskier-,”

“Good?” Jaskier asked a bit worriedly.

“Fuck, yes , good,” Geralt bit in a tone that was halfway between “how the fuck could it be anything but good” and “don’t you fucking dare stop” , making Jaskier laugh again.

“Okay, darling- still love the enthusiasm,” Jaskier said while Geralt whined and begged until finally, fucking finally, Jaskier agreed he was ready. Jaskier slid between his thighs, his strong, well-built arms around Geralt’s middle and Geralt realised it was probably the first time he had been held like this in his entire life.

“Touch yourself for me?” Jaskier asked, his mouth against Geralt’s before Geralt shook his head.

“Can’t- gonna come if I do,” he breathed and Jaskier kissed him again.

“Please?” he asked. “I want to make sure it feels good,” he whispered, holding onto Geralt’s middle tighter.

Geralt complied and before long Jaskier’s hips were rising to meet his body. He felt the tip of Jaskier’s cock slide between his buttcheeks and touch the soft of his ass and he startled, pulling away and pressing back against Jaskier just as fast.

“Fuck,” he swore as Jaskier whined. “Please, Jask,” he moaned as the hand on his cock started shaking. He then felt the tip of Jaskier’s cock against him again, and the steady push of Jaskier’s hips as the head of Jaskier’s cock entered him. He whined as Jaskier pushed further and lowered himself as slow as he could with the lone strength of his thighs and Jaskier’s arms wrapped around his waist.

“Ok?” Jaskier asked breathlessly. A gasp was all Geralt managed. His thoughts were an endless thread of fuck fuck fuck he couldn’t sort out in any order. “Yea- ah,” he broke, “ fuck ,”

“Is it too much?” Jaskier asked, “I can- I can stop, do you need me to stop?”

“ Don’t ,” Geralt moaned, clenching every single muscle in his body to keep Jaskier against him and eliciting a cry from Jaskier. His arms were around Jaskier’s shoulders, his forehead against the man’s temple. Geralt was holding onto him with everything he got.

“I just-” he tried to take a slow long breath thinking about everything he had learned through meditation and managed one ragged breath. “You’re a lot,” he managed in a sigh, clenching around Jaskier despite how much he tried to relax.

Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat half-way between pleasure and laughter. “I get that all the time,” he said cheekily.

“Don’t- don’t make me laugh,” he said, chuckling breathlessly, and Jaskier joined him, both trying to breathe through the involuntary clenching of Geralt’s inner muscles and the accidental movements of Jaskier’s hips.

They laughed into each other’s mouths as they kissed, mouth open, tongues licking each other’s lips, teeth biting softly, teasingly. When they were both ready, Jaskier pulled himself down as he helped Geralt raise on his knees and they met again, moaning and groaning.

“You ok?” Jaskier whispered again and by then, Geralt had no fucking idea. He had never felt so tense and relaxed at once, uncomfortable but so fucking fantastic. His nerves and his ass were on absolute fire but it was good, it was good, it was so, so-

“So good,” he growled, aware that every part of his body was probably shaking in Jaskier’s arms. “ Ah , don’t stop,” he moaned, and Jaskier, incredible, astonishing, wonderful Jaskier did not stop .

Their hips moved in sync, feeding Geralt with the kind of friction he had never imagined could feel so good.

He let himself relax entirely into Jaskier’s embrace, sliding against the whole length of Jaskier’s body, pressing torso against torso, his forehead against Jaskier’s sweaty fringe, their noises brushing, their mouths breathing the same air.

“Ye-ah?” Jaskier moaned. “You like it? You really- ah , fuck- you- ah , you feel so good, does it feel good, tell me-” he rambled, far, so far from actually needing the reassurance.

Geralt groaned. “ Yes ,” he whined, “I like it, I like it, I like you , please,” and Jaskier whined and then did something- Geralt didn’t know, something, somehow, maybe went harder or faster or different, but he pulled and pushed and Geralt lost his fucking mind. He did it again and again, kissing Geralt, licking his neck, biting on his earlobe, caressing his nipples, bruising his hips in his grasp, pulling on his cock, whispering into his ear and making him whine and moan and shout until Geralt begged to be undone.

“I’ve got you, love,” Jaskier said, “I’ve got you.” Jaskier pulled harder on his hips in a half-broken groan, making Geralt slip towards him a little more.

Geralt arched his back, moaning in delight from the new angle. His neck was left exposed for Jaskier to kiss and lick, and breathe against Geralt’s skin. Every cell in Geralt’s body was burning and electric, and boiling. Everything felt so good and so much and so Jaskier , so he begged, begged again, and again for Jaskier to hold him and kiss him and fill him as he came, and so he did. He came, held, and kissed, and filled, and perfect, and Jaskier came, too, gasping into his mouth as they fell into each other.

For a moment, there was no other sound apart from the unsteady breathing and an occasional moan from the two of them as they slowly, comfortably, came back down to earth. Jaskier moved first, turning his head to kiss Geralt’s cheek, pushing his long white hair away from his face, and Geralt turned his head lazily towards him, leaning into a kiss.

“You ok?” Jaskier whispered, probably for the hundredth time and Geralt, for the thousandth time, hummed and nodded. Soon they would detach from each other, groaning from the discomfort of their sensible muscles, their come-dirtied bellies and lube-stained sheets anything but glamorous.

But for the time being, they laid their heads against each other’s shoulders, eyes closed, content with the feeling of holding and being held.

“Hey,” Jaskier whispered.

Geralt hummed questioningly.

“Stay for breakfast?” Jaskier asked. He missed the soft smile that drew on Geralt’s lips.

“Hmm.”

#geraskier #geraskier fic #the witcher fic #the witcher #bisexual geralt of rivia #bottom geralt of rivia #top jaskier #my writing #mine: no warnings #mine: geraskier #mine: modern au #mine: of fingers tongues and toes series

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blogging-time · 4 years

Text

When I Kissed The Teacher

Dialogue Prompt List – Long List My Fic Masterlist

Prompt: “Let’s drink wine and trash talk our co-workers.” - Logan and Roman. (Friendship) - Submitted by @louisthewarlock

Summary: Roman Crowne has just been dumped by yet another co-worker. Logan Sanders makes it his personal mission to console the heartbroken Spanish teacher while also convincing him to turn off that godforsaken ABBA soundtrack.

Warnings: Post Break-Up (Not Logince), Alcohol Mention.

Pairings: Platonic Logince/Foreshadowing Romantic Logince, Past Royality, Past Prinxiety, Past Roceit, Background Intruality.

Word Count: 1,688

~ ~ ~

“Well this seems like a perfectly healthy and not at all counter-intuitive way to conduct oneself post break-up,” Logan remarked as he slowly entered the almost vacant looking Spanish classroom.

The sight awaiting him was that of his co-worker – Roman Crowne – sitting slumped over a rather busy looking table, his unusually messy head of hair tucked uncomfortably between his hastily folded arms. Surrounding him were various pages that Logan couldn’t quite decipher, as well as some familiar looking textbooks that Roman would use to teach his sophomore classes when the school board once again forbid him from making “Pan’s Labyrinth” an official part of the school’s curriculum. The most notable item at Roman’s disposal however had to be his mobile phone, as it was currently playing “When I Kissed The Teacher,” repeatedly on Spotify.

“You know most people actually knock before inviting themselves into a colleague’s classroom, right?” Roman half-heartedly muttered against the cheap plywood.

“Well you should know that most teachers actually prefer to work at their own desks instead of downgrading to a small student’s table. I guess we’re both just feeling a little unconventional today.”

With a heavy sigh and even heavier limbs, the Spanish teacher finally mustered up the energy required to pry his face off the aforementioned table. As soon as the pair made eye-contact, Logan couldn’t help but smile sympathetically at Roman. No matter how many times he found the man in this heartbroken state his tearstained face simply never failed to upset him.

“There’s a window,” Roman responded vaguely before Logan could even make an awkward attempt to console him. Then, upon recognizing the science teacher’s confusion, he unenthusiastically waved his hand and explained, “There’s a window embedded in the door to this classroom – I’m sure you’re well aware of it. Had I chosen to lay about and wail over my lost love at my own desk then surely any old passer-by could have caught me in my moment of lament.”

As sympathetic as Logan was towards his friend’s situation, he still couldn’t help but roll his eyes at how dramatic the man was being.

“Janus Marshall merely terminated his relationship with you, Roman. He himself is not deceased.”

“Hark! For his love for me is dead at least – dead and buried beneath the heels of some younger, prettier thing! Its ghost takes the form of the man I once danced with, and it taunts me as I pass him by in the corridor on my way to lunch.”

“Would you kindly stop and think rationally for five minutes instead of writing another soliloquy?” Logan may sound exasperated, but in reality, he simply hates seeing his friend’s thoughts spiral out of control like this. “Janus made it abundantly clear to you months ago that he would be migrating to England at the end of the year in order to teach Psychology at Oxford. Since neither of you were ever interested in long-distance relationships, I thought this break-up would seem inevitable to you.”

Roman visibly deflated upon hearing such a logical argument, yet somehow Logan didn’t feel victorious.

“I know… I suppose I just got a little carried away again. Deep down I’d honestly hoped we’d be able to make it work.”

“But why?” Logan asked, “Why would you allow yourself to get your hopes up time and time again? Every time you’ve dated a colleague your relationship has ended within six months or less.”

“Now hold on just a moment, Charles Rush-In! Just because I happened to date – and consequently was dumped by – a few of my colleagues doesn’t mean having a relationship with one is inherently flawed and destined to fail.”

“While your current statistics would highly suggest otherwise, that isn’t the part that concerns me the most. What concerns me the most is that you’re clearly upset or made to feel uncomfortable every time you’re forced to work with an ex-partner.”

“Name one example.”

“Patton Hart.”

“You mean the Home Economics teacher? I love Patton! Well… not in that way… not anymore at least… Yeah things were a little awkward at first… and then things got awkward again eight months later when he asked if I would be okay with him dating my brother… but both of us are on very good terms now!”

Logan quirked an eyebrow at that, but ultimately decided it was Remus’ responsibility to tell Roman about his current engagement plans.

“Okay then, what about Virgil Rae?”

“Ah yes, the English teacher who never stopped reading too much into things.”

“You and him seem to argue a lot.”

“To be fair we also argued before and during our relationship too.”

Logan clicked his tongue in perfect time with ABBA before naming, “Janus Marshall.”

“That’s a fresh wound! It’s hardly fair for you to twist the knife in that!”

“I can’t help but disagree considering you’re currently spending your lunch break marking papers and crying in your classroom just to avoid encountering Janus – something you wouldn’t have to do if he wasn’t your colleague.”

Roman couldn’t deflate anymore, so instead he was forced to sink further down in his admittedly rather uncomfortable plastic chair. Mentally he made a note to stop by the thrift store and his aunt Dot’s place after work to see if he could somehow acquire twenty-six cheap cushions that would make hour long lessons in these chairs more comfortable for his students.

“Why are you so determined to prove the successful office romance trope is unattainable?” he asked in a voice that already sounded so defeated.

“Why are you so determined to prove me wrong?” Logan countered.

Roman met Logan’s eyes for just a moment before completely averting his gaze. Logan coughed into his elbow for just a second in a manner that conveniently covered both of his cheeks. A minute passed, and neither man acknowledged either his or his co-worker’s sudden actions.

Eventually Logan decided to break that uncomfortable minute of silence with a sigh of his own.

“Do you have another class immediately after lunch?”

“Not today. I was supposed to be teaching Freshman Spanish for the next hour, but apparently Principal Sanders has called in a public speaker. I won’t have a class again until last period. How about you?”

“It appears I’m in a similar situation. I typically have the hour free after lunch on a Thursday until my Juniors come in for their Chemistry class at 2PM. If the circumstances today were any different then I would undoubtedly use this time to either grade my students most recent homework or to formulate a lesson plan for next week.”

“If the circumstances were any different?” Roman asked with a raised eyebrow and an only slightly watery eye.

“I have a bottle of Chardonnay in my car,” Logan answered. Then, upon recognizing the Spanish teacher’s concern, he quickly waved his hands and explained, “Your brother gifted it to me a few weeks ago, stating that it may help me to ‘loosen up around handsome men,’ - only he used far more vulgar phrasing than I. I can assure you that I would never drink and drive. I’ve simply never felt the need to consume alcohol since receiving the gift, and so I let the bottle sit forgotten in my car until now.”

“What? I haven’t driven you to drink already have I?” Roman joked, but Logan didn’t miss the way another silent tear disobediently slid down his still reddened cheeks.

Again, neither man acknowledged the sudden presence of emotion.

“Believe me, Roman, if any Crowne were ever going to drive me to drink then it would most certainly be that unfathomable brother of yours. My idea was more along the lines of… well…” The science teacher paused for a moment as he remembered how much more important Roman was to him than his reputation. “Let’s drink wine and trash talk our co-workers.”

Upon proposing the idea, Logan let out a nervous breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. Despite the simplicity of their plan, inviting Roman to share a glass of wine with him during work hours just so that they could say negative things about their generally very respectable colleagues to him felt so deeply personal and borderline exhilarating.

Roman must have recognised how much the offer meant to Logan, as he too seemed shocked that the usually oh-so calm and collected science teacher would propose something so unorthodox.

“You want to share a drink with me now?”

“Well encountering your colleagues won’t be an issue after work hours – Perhaps if we start highlighting all of their potential flaws now, you’ll be less inclined to test fate and pursue another doomed relationship with one of them later.”

“Hey!” Roman shouted incredulously, but he was genuinely laughing now.

The sound was so infectious that his co-worker soon found himself chuckling quietly to himself.

“I’ll ask the canteen staff if they can spare two small cups so we don’t drink too much,” Logan offered, “Plus I keep more than enough spare change in my wallet at all times to ensure we can afford a cab ride home. We won’t be stranded here at school if you accept. All I ask in return is that you turn off that infuriating song – I’ve heard it more than enough times now, thank you very much.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr Berry,” Roman responded, his lips forming a playful smirk as he pretended to mull the proposition over. “What album would you suggest we listen to in its place?”

“How about ‘The Wall’ by Pink Floyd? I believe I still have that cassette sitting in my car right now, along with ‘The Dark Side of the Moon.’”

“Oh, wow…” Roman drawled as he blinked his eyes rapidly in only semi-feigned surprise. “I think you just aged ten years for every word you just said, Lograndad.”

“Of course, you can always just sit here and listen to the sound of Janus’ voice instead.”

“On second thought-” Roman announced, standing up rather quickly as he grabbed his nearby coat and bag, “-Pink Floyd sounds like an excellent choice. Why don’t you lead the way?”

~ ~ ~

General Tag-List:

@sholaghhh (Formerly @lunamay2006) @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @saphael-malec102 @anastasialestina @seraphlies

Additional Tags:

@sympathetic-deceit-trash

Note: It’s been a long time since I’ve posted a fic, so this tag-list may be a little outdated. If at any point you want to be added/removed from my tag-list then feel free to let me know!

As always, feedback is much appreciated! I was pretty out of practice here, so I’m sure I’d benefit a lot from constructive criticism!

For spelling, punctuation and grammar I followed Microsoft Word's English (UK) rules. Feel free to correct any errors you may find in the comments, but please keep in mind that some words are spelt differently here in the UK!

I hope you’re all have a fan-der-tastic day!

~ ~ ~

#Thomas Sanders #Sanders Sides #Roman Sanders #Logan Sanders #Logince #Background Characters:#Remus Sanders #Patton Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Background Relationships:#Intruality #My Fic #Post Break-Up #Alcohol Mention #Reblogs > Likes

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thefloorisbalaclava · 4 years

Text

pragma - part seventeen

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: morning smut and a sensitive topic

A/N: Just wanted to give a little heads up that pregnancy and the inability to get pregnant is discussed in this chapter. I know in the movie Frankie mentions having a kid but I’m gonna do my own thing!

Summary: You open up to Frankie about something important and worry that he may not be happy with you after but you’re his world and he makes sure you know it.

pragma masterlist

You can feel the warmth from the sun shining through the window. You can feel the soft sheets against your bare skin. But there’s something else. You’re barely awake but the familiar feeling of Frankie’s lips trail down your stomach and you smile. Your eyes are still closed as he moves lower, kissing your thigh before dipping between your legs. For just a moment you thought it was a dream but when you felt his tongue, you knew it was real. Frankie felt like waking you up in a special way this morning.

When you finally opened your eyes and reached down to run your fingers through his hair, he pulled away for a moment. “Good morning, dulzura.” The way he smiled then licked his lips made you bite yours.

“Oh, it’s good indeed.” You moaned as he lapped at you slowly. One hand gripped the sheets and the other pulled at his hair which he always seemed to love. “Good god Frankie…” He groaned against you which caused a delicious vibration. “Shit!”

He pulled away and kissed your thigh. “I love waking you up,” he said with a smile. “You make the prettiest sounds.”

“Francisco…I swear to god you better not fucking leave me ever again.”

He chuckled. “Nunca.” It was enough that he was waking you up this way, but now he was speaking Spanish while between your legs, his lips and chin glistening, and he had never looked sexier. Those sleepy, brown eyes and that rakish smirk just about did you in.

“You look downright handsome like this,” you told him.

“Between your legs?” he asked but you never got a chance to answer. He went back to work—kissing, licking, and whatever else he was doing that felt so damn good.

“Francisco!”

His eyes fluttered shut and he groaned against you at the sound of his name. That seemed to spur him on even more. He opened his eyes to look directly at as his tongue moved around you and inside you. It was like he was dying of thirst and you were his only source of nourishment. And when you came, he lapped it up and savored you, staying between your legs for as long as he could before you had to beg him to stop.

“Jesus…” you breathed, running your fingers through his hair weakly.

“Just Frankie, baby,” he joked before kissing your thigh and finally moving from between your legs.

“Well, that was a nice treat.” You ran your hand over his chest as he laid there looking proud of himself. “But I think…” Your hand moves lower and his breath hitches. “…I should return the favor.”

He swallowed hard then looked down at your hand. “You don’t have to.”

“Oh, but Francisco…” You climbed on top of him. “I want to.”

His hands went straight to your hips, fingers tickling you lightly making you giggle. “You are so goddamn beautiful first thing in the morning.”

“Only first thing in the morning?” you asked, leaning down to kiss him.

“All the fucking time, cariño. All the time.”

“Mmm.” You kissed him, cupping his face. “Ooo I feel stubble.” Truth be told, you had already felt it when he was between your legs.

“Am I letting it grow back?” he asked.

“Yup.” You kissed him again, reaching down to line him up with you. As you slid onto him, he gasped and his face twisted in pleasure.

“Easy, baby. Fuck…easy.” He grunted as you sat up straight and put your hands on his chest as he filled you completely. “Jesus,” he whispered.

“It’s just me, baby,” you teased, using his own words against him with smile.

You loved making love first thing in the morning. It was slow and patient. There was no rush. Frankie’s hands were gentle as they always were with you, but they were especially so right now. Even as he reached around to squeeze your ass, they were gentle. He gave you a soft smile as he sat up to wrap his arms around you.

“You’re perfect,” he said quietly, head resting against your breasts as you rocked your hips on him.

“No. You’re perfect.” You tugged his hair and he looked up at you. “Perfecto.”

He bit his lip as he began moving his hips with yours, slow and gentle. Having him inside you was a spiritual thing—you were connected body and soul, ascending to the heavens. Your gazes were locked on each other and you could see your life in his eyes, full of passion and joy and love.

You rested your forehead against his and closed your eyes. He took one of your hands and held onto it as you moved slightly faster, never wanting it to end. He looked at you in awe as you threw your head back and said his name.

“Francisco,” you gasped.

Hearing him say your name made you smile. His voice was like a song and he was singing just for you. And now he threw his head back and sang the loveliest song for—a mixture of your name, praise, and a few words in Spanish that you were sure were curses. He groaned as he flattened his palms against your back and held you steady so he could thrust up into you as he finished.

His head rested against your breasts for a while before he looked up at you and smiled sleepily.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi handsome.”

He eventually laid down and you rolled off of him carefully. “I need a cigarette,” he breathed.

“You smoke now?” you asked.

“No,” he chuckled, rolling out of bed to walk to the bathroom and clean up. When he walked out, he was carrying another washcloth just for you. Cleaning you up was one of his favorite things to do. He took his time, making sure he didn’t miss a thing, then got rid of the rag.

Climbing back into bed, he worked himself between your legs, but only to lay his head on your breasts and have you hold him.

“Are you…have you ever thought about…” He stammered a few times then got quiet.

“What is it?” You played with his hair and he sighed.

“Well, we’ve been together…a lot…and each time I…well, you know but nothing ever happens.” It was like he was speaking in code.

“What?”

He turned his head to look at you, resting his chin against your chest. “Are you worried about…getting pregnant?”

Your hand dropped from his head and you looked away. “No.”

“So…you’re on the pill?” he asked.

“No.”

Frankie furrowed his brow in concern and confusion. “Then…”

“I don’t think I can have kids, Frankie.” Saying it out loud hurt more than you thought it would. You were grateful for it with your ex-husband but now it devastated you. “Sorry.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?”

You pushed him off of you gently and rolled onto your side so he couldn’t see your face. “You were asking me because you want kids, right? You want a family…and I probably can’t give you one.”

“We don’t need kids to be a family. You know that, right?”

You turned away again. “You say that now but you’ll change your mind.”

“Never. I’m here for you. That’s it. We don’t have to have that traditional bullshit...white picket fence or whatever the fuck. Just us two. That’s what’s important.”

“You sure you won’t leave me for your ex?” you asked.

“What? Why the hell would you even ask that?” He sat up and turned you onto your back so he could look at your face.

You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I want you. You’re the only one for me. We both tried going our separate ways but somehow still found a way back to each other. That’s gotta mean something, right?” He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. “I mean…you want me, right?” His voice sounded so small, so broken.

“Of course I do.” You sat up and held his hand. “And now that I have you I never wanna let go.”

“You’re stuck with me,” he said, wiping his eyes.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I’m sorry I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have brought up the baby stuff…” He looked down, embarrassed, but you lifted his head up again.

“Sometimes we’re gonna have to talk about some tough things. It’s part of being with someone and being in love. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“You’re my favorite person, you know that?” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close.

“I better be,” you giggled and he kissed you.

After a shower, you both decided to go for a walk to enjoy the beautiful weather. Frankie held your hand the entire time unless he was walking ahead to point out and show you something.

“We should go on a camping trip,” he suggested.

“I haven’t been camping since I was a Girl Scout.”

“You were a Girl Scout?” He laughed as you punched his arm. “Seriously, we should. I know some great spots.”

“I’d go anywhere and do anything with you, Francisco.”

“Skydiving?”

“Except for that. Do you remember how I was during that little helicopter ride? And you think I’d be willing to jump out of a fucking plane?” You scoffed and shook your head.

“I’d do it,” he said.

“You were spec ops, Frankie. You were probably jumping out of helicopters and planes all the time.”

“I was just a pilot.”

“Hm…is the government gonna set off the little chip in your head and kill you if you tell me more?” you quipped.

“You watch too many movies.” He stopped to take in the view on the bridge you were walking over. You sat up on the little stone wall as he rested on his forearms, staring at the river below. You took the hat from his head and put it on yours.

“I love your hat hair.”

He made a face then moved to stand between your legs. “Don’t make fun of me.” He held you tightly.

“I’m serious. I really like it. It’s adorable.”

“If you say so.”

You sat there holding him for a while, listening to the river flow below. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and Frankie was in your arms. A perfect day. He mumbled something into your shirt.

“What did you say?”

“I said I love you. Te quiero mucho.” He looked up at you. “Can I have my hat back now?”

“Okay…but you gotta kiss me first."

He did and you wanted it to last forever. His hands made their way under your shirt and you had to stop him.

“Frankie, we’re in public.”

“Yeah but no one’s coming.”

“Uh oh…Frankie the frisky flyboy is back.” You both laughed then you hopped down from the wall.

He took his hat from your head and put it back on. “I used the word frisky once and you’re never gonna let me live it down, are you?”

“Nope.” You walked ahead of him but he caught up and grabbed your hand then kissed it.

“So…are we going on that camping trip?” he asked.

“Sure, why not?”

Frankie talked about the trip the entire walk back home and you loved it. Seeing him so animated, so excited about something made you happy.

“You’re adorable,” you said as you walked through the door and kicked your shoes off.

“I am pretty cute, huh?”

“The cutest. And all mine.” You jumped into his arms and he carried you to the couch to set you down. He took his hat off and knelt in front of you, putting his head on your lap. “You wanna know something else?”

“Hm?” His eyes were already closing.

“You’re my favorite person.”

He smiled and finally got off the floor to lay out on the couch and put his head back on your lap. “You make me so happy.” Curling up, he closed his eyes again and drifted off to sleep.

“You make me happy too, Frankie.”

[eighteen]

Tags: @cable-kenobi @saltywintersoldat @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @pedrosdoll @psychobillybunny @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @keeper0fthestars @mrsparknuts @thinemineours @huliabitch @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @lavenderl3mons @mrscrain-x7 @fioccodineveautunnale @gooddaykate @themilkface @tiffdawg @ms-dont-care @mus1caln0tes @awesomefandomsunited @seawhisperer @virtualxjournality @badassbaker @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @lokiaddicted @forever-rogue @sloantravels @javier-djarin @jawabear

#Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales x Reader #Francisco 'Catfish' Morales #Triple Frontier #Pedro Pascal #headcanon

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ifeveristoday · 3 years

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I got out my DVDs for this rewatch (that’s not actually a big deal. I only have season 3 on DVD. 😂) so let’s get to it.

I forgot they did a cold open for this episode!

I know it’s for ambiance but man does Angel have a lot of candles displayed. Probably too ‘mainstream’ for his taste but the thought of Angel furtively going to a Bath and Bodyworks in the mall during their semi-annual sale and just buying out their whole candle selection gives me the purest joy. Let’s be real though, Angel would shop at some boutique/hole in the wall owned by a wizened old character with a twinkle in their eye and everything marked up 20%. Or it would be a steel and glass monstrosity with a collection labeled Candles for Men. That’s the range.

Back to the enormous fire hazard that this scene is -

Wait. Does fire burn on stone?

Shout out to the stunt doubles.

I think that Angel getting food for Buffy for a sort of alfresco picnic while training is really sweet, actually. Also, can't miss the opportunity for both carbs and phallic symbolism ala bread.

Everyone is so embarrassingly horny in this moment. I'd say get a room except they're in a whole giant mansion.

Always remember the bread! What did Angel do with the food after Buffy fled? Fed the no-doubt cursed pigeons that live in Sunnydale.

Thanks for the workout (insert stereotypical dirty laugh).

Oh yes, the awkward 'let's talk about your birthday without mentioning the last birthday you had at all because it's horrifying' chitchat. God, the anxiety Angel is radiating here and Buffy trying to smooth it over. You can't unfrost that trauma cake!

Angel, you utter dork. You're lucky Buffy finds you pretty. Very powerful himbo energy here. And it's nice to see some light-hearted flirting/banter between them.

How do you know when someone's aura's dirty? Buffy is only asking the reasonable questions everyone has.

Do you hear yourself, Giles. "I'm aware of your distaste in studying vibratory stones..." I can't imagine what that section of the Slayer handbook looks like. Are there pull-out charts?

Faith being conveniently gone for this episode. Boo, hiss.

That workout really did a number on Buffy. I see what you're doing with those crystals.

One of the sad parts of rewatching Buffy is that you just don't have the first time discovery feels of watching it - that magic is gone, but even though I know why Buffy's wobbling in her fight, the reveal is still upsetting. Thinking about how in Season 5, when she does get staked, just as she's questioning her powers - and here, where she's losing them.

Also, obvious observation is obvious - the sexual violence imagery is really, really blatant here - with the vampire crouched over her with the stake aimed toward her heart, just as she playfully staked Angel earlier in a more romantically set scene.

AND THEN THE THEME KICKS IN. Like, damn! Three minutes and you can pretty much tell what the plot is going to be - Buffy and Angel's UST is getting out of hand, Buffy's lone Rangering it, and something is wrong with her. And it's her birthday.

And Buffy's resourcefulness saves the day.

Perhaps you shouldn't be throwing knives in the library, Buffy.

Did they do a geography lesson on Cuernavaca? It's also just fun to say. Like La Cienega. Brief moment to ponder yet again about a show set in Southern California, actually shot in Southern California, with the huge Latine population we have and the Spanish-influenced names and culture and - getting sidetracked by all this casual 90s racism.

"We do it every year for my birthday," except your seventeenth, presumably because of the murderous ex-boyfriend stalking the town you live in and all your loved ones. [Or, he did take her and it was not shown on screen!] Sometimes I wonder if the continuity editors just go, you know, I'm going to let this one go for the 'emotion' and not just so years later, a Virgo with a deep-seated need to obsess over throwaway details will go into a thought spiral to make it make sense.

I think this is also the last time Hank Summers was spoken of with any real affection because then he was Deadbeat Dad for the remainder of the show. Oh, look. The Scoobies are surprised about the traditional birthday ice show that I'm going to nitpick about forever.

Oz is so supportive, and then the clunker of a 'deep' line of ice being cool because it's water then it's not. I do like the Whedonesque school of dialogue, but sometimes you gotta reel it back. I remember the dialogue on Dawson's Creek was getting pinged for the teenagers talking like grad students.

Quiet reflection. Oh you poor girl, you have no idea.

Quarterly projections - is a convincing filler phrase for when you don't need to know what the job is, because it's boring but sounds vaguely official. What does Hank actually do? Who cares! He's an asshole.

Sunnydale Arms, because of course, Sunnydale has a broken down abandoned murder hotel.

Quentin Travers. Boo. Hiss.

The scary music is very scary. Also one of the Council flunkies looks like a very young Vincent D'Onofrio.

This scene with them in the library is so bittersweet because Buffy is fishing for Giles's attention as a father figure substitute ("very sophisticated people go!" breaks my heart) and he pointedly is rejecting this for training talk.

Look for the flaw at its center. THE FLAW IS YOU GILES. YOU YOU YOU.

it's just so terrible, this scene because of how methodical and clinical it plays out. And Buffy is just not there, and then Giles smiles like nothing has happened.

Buffy makes it through another night - next day (another reason why this trial is so horrifying is that it takes place over several days - it's not on Buffy's birthday but leading up to it, so the idea of her getting weaker and weaker and unable to fight to make it to 18 in the first place) and it's time for the Cordelia has had enough of toxic masculinity scene!

Also, Willow blithely ignoring a person's feelings and treating Amy as just a rat is played for laughs and cuteness, but yeah...you can't treat people like puppets or rats [law and order sound]

I love Cordelia's coat. And also, while it does suck that she stood him up, he's not entitled to her time or attention and certainly not to threaten her. Go, Cordy! Fight like a girl! Yes! Pummel him into the hallway.

I also love Willow's outfit here because I think the colors are so complementary and warm and it's a cute outfit. Okay, the knit wooly hat is a bit too Blossom-esque, but whatever.

Buffy is tiny, we all know this, but I do think they purposefully dressed her in larger than her size coats in this episode to make her look even more tiny and vulnerable.

Giles is TOO BLASE for this scene also shut your mouth about throwing knives like a girl

"It's an archaic exercise in cruelty." SO WHY DID YOU GO ALONG WITH IT, BRAIN TRUST. (I am going to be very mean to Giles this whole rewatch, deal with it.)

"But I'm the one in the thick of it." No, you're not. You are going to be adjacent to it, at best.

Hey it's that guy!

Okay, in better lighting, flunkie does not look like Vincent D'Onofrio.

It's impossible to pin down one type of Vampire in the Whedonverse, except for the delineation between Grunt Bait Vampires, and Special Guest Star/Master vampires, but Kralik is the only other example of a vampire with mental illness besides Drusilla, yet he's medicated. Makes me wonder how exactly they got Kralik...he was a monster before he was a vampire, but who vamped him? I don't put it past the Watchers to have vampires created for this purpose.

Curse against lawyers!

Xander and Oz bonding over comic books is so fun. I regret they didn't really get closer until after Xander and Willow cheated because Oz was the one male friend Xander had.

They mentioned her birthday! Thinking about Buffy's love of poetry later on, this is a nice little detail, and it *is* a thoughtful, sweet gift. Also those poems: horny. Oh yes, maybe in a restrained way, but Elizabeth Barrett Browning knew what was up.

The Buffy and Angel relationship in season three is full of these starts and stops that I can see why and agree with others about how it's frustrating on a number of levels. They know why they can't be together, but they still try to find a common ground because they want to need the other one. They still have their identities to figure out - Buffy as the slayer and a young adult, Angel as a person, separate from Buffy and being Buffy's ex sort of maybe.

But this conversation in Helpless is genuinely sweet and a glimpse at what a normal couple at the crossroads would talk about - I think I'm also being soft on this because the other Important Male Figure in Buffy's life in this episode lets her down so spectacularly bad, that Angel being supportive and kind in his awkward way is a nice respite. It's good to be away from the angst and the horror that their relationship has had.

And the self-aware puncturing of the Moment between them is something Buffy does very well. "Taken literally, incredibly gross - I was just thinking that too". Look, it's cute and soft and I will allow it.

The horror of this episode (and there are so many) is that we have to watch Buffy become the helpless blonde in a slasher flick who is being chased by the monsters and she can't do anything about it - that she has to be rescued or die. That the real world with men catcalling and bystanders who ignore women's cries of distress is far scarier than the literal demons that inhabit the town - and Buffy brokenly saying she can't just be a person, she can't be helpless like that [like women are, still, today] is a gut punch. It's uncomfortable and unhappy because Buffy is supposed to be the hero, the [sigh] strong female lead who can kick ass and take names, and this episode is all about finding who Buffy is, separate from her super powers. Also an exercise in emotional torture, but must be Tuesday.

The physicality - the weakness that both Buffy and Giles display in this scene is so, so good. The way Buffy's hand trembles toward the needle in the case and the dawning realization of what Giles has done, has chosen to do - and he bloodlessly tells her what the Cruciamentum is.

Her tiny little "Liar."

GOD WHY DIDN'T SHE GET AN EMMY (rhetorical we all know genre tv only matters if it was Game of Rapey Thrones)

"You will be safe now, I promise you." LIAR.

Another puncturing a heavy moment - Cordelia as cavalry - I love it. Cordelia taking the most obvious approach to the situation - 'oh Buffy might have lost her memory, well he's Giles,'

I can't believe they robbed us of a conversation in the car scene with Cordy and Buffy.

Kralik had to have found a polaroid camera and a metallic sharpie for this whole scenario -- OH I KNOW WHO HE REMINDS ME OF. The Night Stalker and any number of serial killers that terrorized SoCal. Is the show being self-aware of the problem with mothers and parents in general?

Probably a glib accident.

I don't have much to say about the part where Buffy hunts Kralik because it's so masterfully done with the atmosphere and music.

Nice of Giles's backbone to enter the chat now.

This is not business. Ooo.

Buffy's "I thought I killed a man" emo overalls!

Like it's shadowy, but there's still enough light to see facial expressions. Lighting guy, I salute you.

Little red riding hood metaphor. Oh, that's so her stunt double.

CREEPY SEXUAL VIOLENCE REARS ITS DEFORMED HEAD AGAIN

Jump stair scare. I remember the first time I saw it, I jolted in the living room.

Serial Killer Shit. Why are vampires such drama queens?

THAT'S RIGHT, BUFFY DID THAT

The ending scene in the library is cathartic in that Buffy gets to stand up for herself finally, and recognizes what Giles gives up by helping her, delayed as it was, also there's the feeling of hate punching Quentin Travers via your eyes.

Still don't think she should have forgiven Giles so easily, but we don't get to see a lot of aftercare for Buffy when she gets hurt, and it is a very tender scene.

The Scoobies are being way too upbeat if they knew about the fact that Giles poisoned Buffy, which is why I'm assuming she told a very abbreviated version of events ending with Buffy killed the bad guy and Giles got fired, oops.

Xander's big strong man comment and then looking immediately to Willow to open the jar and not Oz...

I could watch this episode again with episode commentary from David Fury, but another day.

#a bit later #but here it is #saff rewatches buffy

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the-hopeless-haze · 4 years

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Someone to Need You Too Much (Being Alive Chapter 4)

(not my gif)

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CONTENT WARNING: This chapter mentions past sexual abuse. It is par for the course in what you’d expect in an SVU episode but I am mentioning it here because it concerns the reader.

This is when Rafael usually starts checking out.

But you weren't how women normally acted at this stage, hell, the two of you hadn't even made it official yet or told the squad.

You needed him, though, in ways he wasn't used to being needed, having been single for so long. You'd call him if you hadn’t seen him over at the precinct, ask him how his day went and talk about yours, and you'd get him out of the office to go to dinner at least once a week.

But you never said this, you never verbalized that you needed him there, you never nagged, never made him feel bad if his work got in the way and he had to reschedule. Maybe it's because you were busy too, or maybe you were just that understanding. Either way, he’s surprised the two of you haven’t gotten into a fight more serious than work-related spats.

Rafael had been right, as this was fun at least for now, and maybe if all you needed him for was weekend dinners and the occasional Broadway show, that’d be fine. Your sense of humor matches his, you drink scotch, you smell lovely... but you had been pulling away recently; in fact, you hadn’t called him since you went out to dinner last weekend. He tries to chalk it up to you being busy with work, but he can’t fight the anxiety that the end is already here. Why the hell did he even give this a half-assed shot? Of course you weren’t genuinely interested. Of course you’d be another tally mark, another notch in his belt- and it’s not like he was truly upset, because he had figured it would end at some point the second he agreed to take you to dinner, and thankfully, the squad didn’t know yet. Still, though, this soon? It’d barely been two months.

Or maybe your withdrawal was due to that time you were making out with him on the couch - and you’d suddenly pushed him off, went to the bathroom, and didn’t kiss him the rest of the night. He broke out an expensive bottle of wine, then, and tried his best to genuinely apologize, because he did feel awful - but you’d told him he’d done nothing wrong, and that you just needed time. But maybe you’d lied to make him feel better; maybe he had pushed you too far, which truly wasn’t his intention. Rafael may be a dick, but working sex crimes gave him a much better respect for the responsibility of a man to make sure his partner was comfortable with what was happening in the bedroom (or on the couch, or wherever). But Jesus, he’d barely touched you, and he made a point to be more careful with you than anyone he’d ever been with, not just because of your age, but because he figured that your irreparable damage had been of a sexual nature, whether it was a bad boyfriend who didn’t take your needs into consideration or something more serious due to your conversation with Olivia months prior.

With that in mind, Rafael decides it’s more probable that it is work that was causing you to distance yourself rather than anything he may have done. The cases with children were always difficult, for anyone, really, but especially you. And this man? He targeted disabled children specifically, and you weren't doing well. He wonders how he could go about asking to take you off it without you finding out and without Olivia interrogating him as to why he cared so much. It's not like you're not putting in the work; in fact, it's the opposite, if anything, you're drowning yourself in it. Every time he stops by the precinct, you barely say a hello to him, and you're buried in a case file or researching something on your laptop, biting your nails down to the quick. You were always invested in your work, but not like this, and Rafael was a workaholic if there ever was one, but even you were stressing him out right now. He has half a mind to search your purse for a new pack of cigarettes, but he doesn't think you'd take too kindly to that.

When he gets to the precinct later this morning, you’re not there, though, and he asks Carisi why reluctantly. He frowns, looking genuinely upset. “She’s not taking this too well, Barba. I know she wants to be here, but it hits home for whatever reason, and Searge made her take the rest of the day off and probably tomorrow. She was crying when she left, but she wouldn’t talk to me. I mean, whatever it is, I don’t think she should be questioning the suspect, but she’s good with the kids, you know?”

Rafael would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little worried, but he figured you’d turn up of your own accord if you needed to talk.

And later on, early in the afternoon, you do.

"Are you busy?" you ask, standing in his office doorway awkwardly.

"Always,” he says, but he takes his feet off the desk and puts down his legal pad. “What brings you out here? Carisi told me Liv sent you home.”

"I...I need to talk. I don’t want to be alone right now,” you say anxiously.

"Okay. Sit down," he says.

You oblige, sitting in the seat across from his desk, but you’re still trembling. "My brother is disabled."

It all makes sense now, why this case, in particular, was hurting you so much. God, if this case turned his stomach, what did it do to you?

“He... he was raped, too. It was my dad’s best friend... basically his brother. We used to call him uncle. He was a teacher, and he’d pick us up after school a lot and bring us back home to watch us. I...I’m older than my brother by two years, and I joined the soccer team in middle school and that man would be alone with him. I just... I... my brother couldn’t voice it, not the way you and I can. Most nine-year-olds can’t anyway, you know, but because of the disability... he had no idea. He didn’t know the words to explain what happened to him, but he would start saying he didn’t want to go home with this man. My parents both worked long hours, and they were on the outs anyway, so they just thought he missed them and didn’t look into it. They trusted that man... and I did too. Until... one day a game was canceled because of rain, and I walked in, and...”

You stop talking, silent tears falling from your eyes. Rafael gets up, coming round to the edge of the desk to stand closer to you.

“Hey. Take your time,” he whispers, leaning over and putting a hand on your shoulder. “I know this is hard.”

You nod, looking up at him. “I barely knew what sex was at that time. I didn’t really know what to call it, but I knew my brother was getting hurt, that the man was taking advantage of him, and maybe I should’ve called my mother or my father or the police, but I didn’t. I froze for a few moments and then I did the only thing that came to me and I tried to pull him off my brother. It worked, I scared him enough to make him stop but he grabbed me and...he did the same to me. I just remember it hurt so bad... like he was tearing me in half.”

Rafael shudders, but even still he’s in awe of your brazenness even at 11 years old. Just going right in and apprehending the perpetrator. You were born a detective, in a way.

You’re sobbing, now, and really, he can’t blame you. Suddenly, you get up, throwing your arms around him, and if you were ever in need of a hug, he supposes after recounting this story would be the prime time.

“Hey, hey, shhh. No one’s gonna hurt you now, (y/n),” he murmurs, running his hand over your hair. “Lo siento. Shhh. Shh.”

He calms you down a little bit, whispering condolences in Spanish and kissing the top of your head. Rafael doesn’t know exactly what to do as he’s never been good at comforting anyone. It’s something his exes would yell at him for time and time again, assuming his awkwardness meant that he didn’t care they were upset. It’s just something he wishes he could avoid, that everyone could sort out their issues alone as he did. But that was a joke, wasn’t it? Like he’d sorted anything out in these four decades of being alive. He repressed them, sure, but healed from them? No. And maybe it wasn’t fair to expect everyone to live that way.

And again, he can’t really blame you for needing someone right now, even though he sort of wished it wasn’t him (and he does feel guilty for thinking that, but it’s still true). What you’d gone through, well, it was unthinkable, and he imagines you relive it through the eyes of your brother every time you talk to one of these victims. What solace could Rafael give you right now besides, “Oh, honey, it gets better”?

Fuck that. Maybe it did get better, or you got better yourself, but none of that was going to come from Rafael trying to manifest it with his meaningless words. Rafael presumes another reason you came here besides your (ongoing?) fling was because he wasn’t an SVU detective and wasn’t going to revictimize you. So, instead, he asks what a lawyer would ask. “Did he get convicted?”

“Yeah. He did get put away,” you continue, as you pull away from him a little, still holding onto his arms. “It took me a while to come to terms with it, but I couldn’t let him continue to do that to my brother. I told my parents within the week.”

“Did your father believe you?” he asks, unsure if that was insensitive to ask.

“My father definitely didn’t want to believe it at first, but he always believed me for everything. We were always close, still are. My mother... I think she felt she failed as a mom for not noticing it, so she was in denial for a while. The detectives that dealt with it... they didn’t even look into the school, they just tried him for our case. And I always hated them for that, when I was old enough to realize.”

“Is this why you became a detective?” he asks quietly.

“Well, sort of. I wouldn’t have if I didn’t know about SVU; that’s why I have all those psychology credits too. I wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted to do. I always wanted to come to New York, though, and you know, I thought I’d be able to help children who went through the same thing my brother and I did. I just didn’t think it’d be this hard,” you say, looking up at him.

“Of course it’s hard. SVU is hard for me, too, and I haven’t experienced anything like that,” he says, swallowing thickly. But that was a lie, in a sense, as he'd been beaten before by the hands of his own father and watched his mother suffer as well. There was a reason he was distant during domestic violence cases. He hopes you don't notice this omission, and he looks at you sympathetically instead.

“I thought I could handle it, though, and not act like a basket case,” you say, turning away from his gaze. “How am I supposed to help anyone if I get sent home?”

“Why did Liv send you home?” he asks, again wondering if he was asking the questions you needed to answer. A good part of his job was figuring out the right questions to ask, but this was overwhelming. “Not that I don’t agree, but I’m just wondering what she said."

You roll your eyes, sniffle a little. “She said it wasn’t good for my mental health to be around the suspect and that I was going to stress out the parents. No one on that squad knows what it’s like to live with and love someone with a disability, Rafael, and I just... I want to be there. I could help, if she’d let me.”

“Now isn’t the time to beat yourself up. I think the time off will be helpful to you," he says, squeezing your shoulder again. Wasn't that the catch-22? You join these professions to help people like yourself, but you hurt yourself in the process and become of no use. He thinks back to the first domestic violence case he was put on, a family not unlike his own, and it nearly broke him down, nearly made him quit and throw away those seven years of education. But he didn't. And you wouldn't walk away either.

“How is your brother doing now?”

“Ben - his name is Ben - he’s doing better. He's very shy, and he can get anxious and have panic attacks. He has fragile X syndrome, and that’s what caused his autism... I used to try and take him out everywhere with me once I got a car, to help him get used to talking to people. It doesn’t help, you know, the way people are when they see someone disabled, and sometimes it’d be hard, but... I just want him to live as normal a life as possible. He still lives with my mom, now. I just think the assault made him so much worse. I mean, I don’t know if he’ll ever get a job, now, or... it’s just hard to think about sometimes.”

“I can only imagine,” he says softly, because he really has no idea.

“Well, I’m just gonna...I’m just gonna go home,” you say. “Thank you for listening. I needed someone to. I know it’s a lot. But I don’t want to take you away from this case either. We’re already one person down since Liv kicked me out, and if I needed you to win the last case... I absolutely need you to win this one, Rafael. I didn’t get to question that man but I was on this case before and I know he raped them, that fucking bastard—“

“Hey, hey, calm down,” he says gently. “Okay. I know. I watched Liv interrogate him earlier. I believe you, and you know I’m going to do everything I can. I'm going to charge him, and we're going to get him.” Jesus, he needs to stop promising you guilty verdicts. But how the hell could he say no when this clearly meant the world to you? This was all too much. What the hell did you need?

“Okay. I know I’m asking for a lot but I need... I need this. And I can help you however you need. Liv can’t stop me from helping you prep witnesses or—“

“Slow down, (y/n). You still need the time off. You know that, right? You’re going to keep getting kicked off cases if you keep trying to push it. I know how Olivia is when it comes to this.”

“But, Rafael—“

“No. We’re done talking about the case, now, okay? You need to think about something else and get your mind off it for a while. Did you want to go get coffee?”

Fucking coffee. Why did Rafael think that equaled comfort? Maybe because the harsh acidity of stale coffee was his only friend some days, and he’d learned that a good cup could be a great mood improvement. Fuck, that was sad, wasn’t it?

“No, it’s fine,” you say, your face falling. “You need to work. I’m just going to go back home, then.”

You turn to leave, grabbing your purse with shaky hands, but he stops you.

“Are you sure you should be alone right now?”

“You’re working, Rafael—“

“Yes, I know, but you’re welcome to stay here.”

You force a smile, shaking your head. “No. It’s okay. I appreciate it. Are you free later though? I know we haven’t gone out in a while, and I could use the company.”

So you didn’t want to end things. Rafael is simultaneously relieved that you wanted to stick around and terrified for the very same reason.

“You know what?” he says, feeling a brazenness he’s unsure of the origin of. “Do you want just a night in? I can give you my apartment key. If you want to go there now, you can. I’ll meet you there later. I’ll try to get out around 7.”

“You want me to just hang out in your apartment?

“Yes,” he says, kissing the top of your head and giving you the key. “I have good scotch, and I guarantee I have a better shower head installed than your apartment. Just go. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Yeah, just say my apartment's a piece of shit, Rafael," you scoff.

He smirks. "That's not what I said. It's not bad for a single woman on a detective's salary. I can tell you saved for it. But it's nowhere near the lap of luxury."

"Oh, but your place is?" you counter, hands on your hips. You're still stressed, he can tell, but maybe you needed the banter. He hopes he's not pushing it too far.

"No, I wouldn't go that far. But tell me, where would you rather spend the night?"

You roll your eyes at him, and he knows you've conceded.

"Do you have anything in your fridge?" you ask. "I could at least cook."

“Probably not. But don’t worry about it. I can pick something up on my way home.”

“No, you don’t get it, I like to cook. Sonny gave me new recipes. You have a bigger kitchen than I do..."

“Is that what would make you happy?”

“Yeah. I need to put my mind on something else right now; like you said.”

“Then... have at it. Don’t burn my place down, though.”

You roll your eyes, kiss his cheek, and leave.

He’s not used to having to take care of anyone. It's been so long since he let anyone get this close, that they felt he would take care of them. Maybe that wasn’t what you were looking for. He wasn’t your father; maybe you just wanted support from an equal. Maybe he wanted to give it. It’s foreign, the feeling of walls he’d spent so long trying to build cracking at the foundations. But hell, if anyone could... couldn’t it be you?

It’s not like Rafael was opposed to long-term, except, well, he was. He’d say there was never an opportunity, he’d tell his mother there was just no one out there. But it’s not like he tried, either.

With you, it’s not much like trying. It all just happened effortlessly, on his part, at least. You made the first move, and most of the successive ones after that. And you’d said you didn’t know what you wanted - yet it’s becoming clearer to Rafael that what you were the kind of person who needed a partner, a lover, possibly a husband. That makes him beyond uneasy. He’d grown to care about you more than he would have liked these past couple of months, but that didn’t mean he was ready for that kind of commitment, if he ever would be.

And this, now, this requires more effort on his part; it requires more of himself to be used to try and help you feel better.

When he comes home that night, the kitchen is a complete mess, with flour in every crevice, dirty pans in the sink, and grocery bags left on the table. It damn near gives him a heart attack, and maybe he would’ve yelled at you, but he swallows his anger down bitterly. You need gentleness, kindness, softness right now, and that’s a tall order for Rafael, especially when you destroy his apartment... but he couldn’t forgive himself if he hurt you when you were already down. Kitchens could be cleaned. Trust couldn’t be repaired.

It might all be worth it, though. And, as it turns out, maybe Carisi was good for something, or you were an amazing chef (perhaps both) because it might have been the best pasta he’d ever had in his life.

“So you made this? These little things?” He stabs into a couple more pillows of pasta, enjoying the fresh, springy taste.

You laugh, clear and bright. You’re a little tipsy; you’d taken full advantage of his scotch collection, but you needed to take the edge off. “They’re called gnocchi, Rafael. And yes. I made them from scratch.”

“I just might have to keep you around,” he says, smiling at you, and you giggle, kissing his open mouth.

“You better,” you say, moving to sit on his lap. He wraps his arms around your waist. “Anyone else I’ve tried to get close to... it scares them. Or they don’t comprehend how big of a deal it was. It broke me, Rafael. It broke my whole family. You might be the only man I’ve been with who’s understood the consequences that has on a person and still not look at me like it’s all that I am.”

“I know. It’s not who you are. It’s something that happened to you,” he murmurs in your ear, kissing your cheek chastely. “I would never change my opinion on you based on that.”

If anything, all your story does is cause him to have greater respect for you, not because you survived, because what other option did you have? No, it’s how selfless you are, putting your brother before yourself, choosing this career path over a million others that would have been much easier on you. Judging people based on what they had gone through is ridiculous. That tells you nothing about a person. It’s what they do in the aftermath of the things that happen to them that shows you who they are.

What was Rafael then, in the aftermath of the pain he had been caused?

He doesn’t want to think about that. Ugly things like that were better left unsaid. But eventually, he knows, you’d go there. You’d unravel the real reason why he was single, why he never asked anyone to marry him, why he was so scared to get close... but not yet. Tonight was about you.

“I need to get back out there, Rafael. I need to help those kids,” you say, your voice shaking.

“You will. You’re going to. But you need to know when to step back, (y/n). You’re going to burn out if you don’t,” he says softly.

Rafael still doesn’t feel like he’s doing enough; he feels like you need more than he’ll ever be able to give. And you’ve had to have been hurt in relationships in the past, Rafael knows how teenage boys are having been one himself. God, if he could smack his younger self in the face, he would, one thousand times over.

“I...I do agree that it wouldn’t be good for me to talk with the suspect. I’ll gladly leave that to the rest of the squad. But those kids? The parents? You know that no one is better suited for prepping them for court than me. Let me help you, then.”

“Okay,” he concedes. “But... I have conditions.”

“Naturally.”

He smirks a little, pecking your lips softly. “You’re right. No contact with the defendant. And you need to talk to Olivia first.”

“Rafael—“

“Don’t you want to get paid for this?” he says, smiling wryly. “It is work, you know.”

“You just want to make sure I’m cleared so it doesn’t come to bite you in the ass somehow.”

“Well, yes, of course. Olivia would find out that you helped. Also... you need to back away if it gets too much. I’ll send you home, too, if necessary.”

You sigh, nodding. “Fine. Agreed.”

“Okay. Now we’re done talking about it for the rest of the night.”

“Thank you, Rafael,” you say, looping your arms around his neck. “You’re a hard ass most of the time, but you really helped me today. You just see things so clearly.”

He helped you? He hoped so, that something he did got through, but he didn’t really believe anything could. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t emotionally drained, though, as he definitely wasn’t used his emotional support being needed this much.

“Listen...I’m not trying to rush anything either, but I just want you to know I’m glad I have you around,” you say softly.

“Me too,” he says, honestly, and it all feels so strange, letting someone use him to feel better. It felt good, though, to see you in a better mood, even though he doesn’t feel like he’s entirely the cause of that. Scotch certainly helps. Good food does, too. Solitary comforts, which Rafael knows too well. “Thank you for cooking.”

“You’re welcome. I should cook more often, really. Your blood pressure must be through the roof with all the takeout you eat.”

He squeezes your waist tighter, ignoring your comment, ignoring the fact that he might possibly need you too. You run your fingers through his hair, your nails scratching his scalp lightly, and you kiss him gently.

“Well, I got to clean the kitchen I destroyed,” you say.

“I’ll help,” he says, and you kiss him again. It’s gentle, too soft yet too much, and there’s something in your eyes when you pull away, something real, there, something he doesn’t quite recognize or understand at first. It aches, it pulls at heartstrings that maybe have never been touched before. It scares him, a little. What happened to you saying you didn't want to rush things?

For once, words fail him. All he can do is lean up, place his hand on the back of your neck, and kiss you again. He’s careful not to push too far, not to scare you off. You need someone willing to take his time; someone willing to give you his all. Was Rafael really that man? Was he really up for the job?

Maybe, he concedes, that was for you to decide, not himself.

You get off his lap and smile at him before starting to work on the floury mess caking his counter island.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad being needed, even if he hated the aching feeling in his chest he got when he saw you cry, hated how you still seemed like you were too much, too good for him. Part of him still hates you, what with your constantly flickering emotions and your snippy remarks that remind all too much of...himself.

But you needed him there. Who was he to refuse to oblige, even if it scared the shit out of him?

———

Rafael wins the case again. Maybe he should keep promising you guilty verdicts if every time he does it turns out that way. Or, more likely, promising you causes him to work ten times harder just so he doesn’t disappoint you. You did help him a lot this time, per Olivia’s gracious acceptance of your proposal to work more closely with Rafael on this case. She’d said it would be good for you, and it was. You’re not as elated as he hoped you’d be, but you’re probably sick to your stomach thinking about how those kids were going to live their lives now or if they’d get the support your own brother got. But it's certainly better than the alternative. At least that man won't see the light of day for a long while, if ever.

It’s just all very bittersweet.

The squad goes out for drinks, but they’re not rowdy like they can be. Instead, the atmosphere is sullen. This case hurt everyone differently, and everyone is wearing their pain to the bar in an attempt to drink it away. Everyone is especially generous to you - Nick and Sonny fight over covering your drinks and Olivia buys you dinner. Normally, he thinks, you would protest, but you need this right now, and you don't argue with them.

Eventually, though, being around them seems too much, and you head to sit at the bar by yourself. Amanda looks at Rafael pointedly after fifteen minutes of your absence passes. "Are you going to check on her, Barba? "

"What?"

"You heard me. Can you, please?"

The atmosphere is too tense to banter, so he just nods and makes his way over to you. "How are you doing?"

"Amanda's still trying to play matchmaker?" you say, smiling, but it doesn't quite meet your eyes.

"Evidently. But, I really do want to know how you're feeling."

You shrug your shoulders, turning to face him better. "I've been better. I'm just glad it's over. I’m actually going home for a bit,” you tell him. “I have a couple of vacation days to use, so I won’t be around.”

“Okay,” he says. “I hope your brother is doing well.”

“Yeah. Me too. And you know... I’ll make it up to you. I’m sorry for the distance I put between us, you know, earlier this week? I didn’t mean to, but this case—“

“You don’t need to apologize, (y/n),” he says, giving you a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh. I mean, I did feel bad, leaving you hanging like that. I just know when I get stressed like that I’m not good company.”

“You’re always good company, cariño,” he says quietly, and you reach under the table to squeeze his hand. Rafael doesn’t quite know what you need, and this may be too much, it may draw the attention of the squad - but they aren’t paying attention. Or, fuck it, if they were. He intertwines his fingers wtih yours, squeezing back gingerly.

“Charmer,” you tease, smiling sweetly, sneaking a glance at your hands. “But... Rafi, we are dating, right?”

“Is that what you need from me?”

“I mean, I’d like that. It’s been a couple of months, and we don’t hate each other... why not? We don’t have to tell the squad yet, but I think I might mention to my parents I’m seeing someone when I go up there. Is that okay?”

“That’s...fine, (y/n),” he says cautiously, feeling slightly guilty he never broached the subject with his mother. And god, he wasn’t ready to. Wasn’t this all too much too soon? What was he going to tell you, though? No?

“You might not think so, and I know you try to hide it by being an asshole sometimes, but you are a good man, Rafael.”

“I’m just doing my job.”

“Yeah, you say that, but I saw you up there, saw you fight for these kids... there’s a way to be a lawyer and not care about the people you represent. But you do care. And it's admirable."

"I wouldn't be able to do my job as well if I didn't care, (y/n). I'm not a saint. Don't make me out that way. This is how I make a living. I want to succeed at it."

"Oh, honey, won't you let me just give you a compliment?" you say, and you loosen your grip on his hand to rub his shoulder gently. "Nothing good ever comes from trying to deny your humanity. And there are far easier career paths you could've chosen if that's what you wanted to do. But you're not like that."

"How would you know?" Rafael says, harsher than he meant to.

"Okay," you murmur, wincing a little. "Why are you so intent on proving me wrong? You know what? Either...stop talking or leave."

"I'm sorry," he says, and he genuinely is. The last thing he wanted to do this week was kick you when you were already down - and here he is, doing exactly that. You deserve so much better.

You smile humorlessly, shaking your head. "I thought I made myself clear. Be quiet, Rafael."

Rafael nods awkwardly and takes a long sip from his scotch. And you surprise him after a few moments, by leaning against his shoulder. "I thought you were mad--"

"Shh, Rafi. Can you please just hold me?"

"Okay," he murmurs, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple before putting his arm around your shoulders. Under normal circumstances, he never would have agreed, but he did just snap at you and the rest of the squad was stewing in their own feelings, hopefully too busy to notice what was happening between the two of you. And even if it did draw attention - it was easily explained away as nothing more than a friend leaning on a friend. He knows eventually you'll need to tell the squad, but for now, this was already too much.

But it was what you needed. So even though Rafael is beyond unsure - he's willing to oblige for now and see where this leads.

NEXT CHAPTER

Want to be tagged in future chapters? Let me know!

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1275

When you were younger, did your mother or father ever let you open a few presents before Christmas or your birthday even arrived? We open all our presents the night of Christmas Eve to begin with; but no, they don’t tease by letting us open a few of them before our usual schedule.

If you could receive a 100 dollar gift card for either blouses, pants, dresses, shoes or purses, which would you chose? If I could change blouses to shirts, then I would go with that because I’ve recently gotten into t-shirts and sweatshirts and no longer the trendy and preppy tops I used to like haha. But if not, I would go for shoes.

What is your favorite thing to do after crying? Ex: Sleep, listen to music, have some alone time, talk to someone, etc? It varies as it depends on how much I cried. The harder I cried the more I’d want to sleep it off, because it can actually get pretty exhausting. Sometimes I’ll reach out, sometimes I write. It’s really different every time, but at the end I’m just glad I can no longer even remember the last time I cried out of sadness.

Do you think Trump will be assassinated, or will he survive his term? Well we know the answer to this. It’s satisfying to notice him disappear off the face of the Earth immediately after his term, though. I don’t have a clue what he’s up to now.

Last time you felt suicidal? For some reason I felt down last Thursday and I felt the slightest, slightest tinge of suicidal thoughts. No idea where it came from.

Last time you had butterflies? Ugh idk but it was probably BTS-related hahahahahahah

Biggest asshole you know? Certain politicians.

Did you ever leave someone because you know you’d hurt them? No, I was on the opposite side of the coin for this one. I was broken up with because they believed they would hurt me, if not already doing so.

What song did you last listen to? Hip Hop Phile by BTS.

Ever ridden in a police car? Nopes.

Ever witnessed a murder? Hmm, not that I can recall. I do remember having to monitor crime stories for one of my very first journalism assignments and the one time I didn’t tag along to the fieldwork with my classmates, they got to witness a stabbing incident :/ By itself of course it always sucks to have violent situations like those, but as a reporter it would’ve been interesting to see the scene and its aftermath.

Have you ever lied under oath? I don’t think so, no. I can’t even remember the last time I was put under oath.

Have you ever failed a subject before? I’ve failed exams but never an entire class.

Have you ever had a deadly animal as a pet? No.

Have you ever kissed someone of the same gender? Well yeah, I dated one.

Have you ever been in a hot tub before? Sure.

Have you ever been to a movie that sold out? I’ve never experienced trying to buy tickets only to find out they’re all sold out, but that’s also probably because we have hundreds of malls in Manila alone and you can always find a theatre that are still offering tickets.

What movie last made you too scared to go to sleep? I’m not usually that way with horror movies, but I do remember running into a jumpscare on TikTok while I was scrolling at 3 AM. Not fun.

When you’re on a laptop, do you hook up a mouse or use the touchpad? Touchpad. I never use a mouse.

What’s your mom’s mom’s name? Agnes.

Would it be hard seeing someone else kiss the person you like? I’m not interested in anyone so this shouldn’t be a problem.

Have you ever been tempted to steal? Sure, but the urge is never so strong.

What is the main character’s name in the book you’re reading? I’m not reading anything.

Do you have a favorite local band? Who are they? Nah. I did have a Ben&Ben phase, though I haven’t revisited their music in a long time.

Who’s the last person you saw naked, aside from yourself? I’m not sure about completely naked, probably still my ex. As for partially naked, my dad sometimes goes shirtless at home as most Filipino dads do lol.

Who’s your favorite horror monster/killer? The most iconic for me would be that porcupine looking ass from Resident Evil 4, I believe it was meant to be for one of the boss stages or something. Anyway, it’s memorable for me just because that fucker had been impossible to defeat and I loved watching my older cousin do attempt after attempt. I don’t think he ever got to beat him and by the time he did us cousins were already adults, lol.

On a side note, we called him ‘Porcupine’ as kids since a shitload of spikes would stick out of him unpredictably during the boss stage, and I thought that nickname had been just our thing; but I’m actually surprised that that villain actually comes up when you do a simple ‘Resident Evil 4 porcupine’ search haha. I guess other people called him the same thing too.

What kind of music do you prefer to listen to when driving? I usually put on a playlist of BTS’ rapline; I tend to enjoy high-energy songs while driving.

Would you ever own a hairless rat, cat or dog? I don’t see why I wouldn’t when it comes to the dog. I don’t want a cat or rat.

All the people you’ve kissed, what did their names start with? G.

What did you and your ex fight about most? It was about the deeper, more profound stuff. We never saw eye to eye about the future, if we were helping the other grow, etc. Someone was always scared or insecure about something that the other could never help with fixing.

Don’t you love long hugs? Sure, I love getting hugs as long as I’m comfy around the one giving it.

And long kisses? Mhm, they’re nice.

Have you ever purchased condoms? Only for Angela when she had still been too shy to ask for it herself.

Have you ever gone on vacation with your boyfriend/girlfriend? No. We had gone out of town for daytrips, but never for a fully-decked out vacation.

Have you ever trashed your ex’s car after an argument? I wouldn’t do anything that loud. My resentment’s a lot more reserved and subtle, definitely on the passive-aggressive side.

Would you leave a note on a car claiming responsibility if you damaged it? If I left like a paint scratch, no. If I was somehow stupid enough to manage wrecking the car then yes.

Have you ever used someone's handicapped parking pass to get a parking spot? Oh that’s just gross. No. I do remember unknowingly parking over a spot meant for the handicapped once just because the paint was so fucking faded. It was genuinely so hard to tell but in the end I ended up just getting out of the spot and looked for another just to be on the safe, unassholey side.

Are you embarrassed to tell people your job? Not at all! I love telling people I work in PR and sharing the brands I work with...it’s just a bitch trying to explain what exactly it is I do on a normal day. I’m still blanking out on it now that I’m thinking about it, haha. PR’s a challenge to summarize in one or two sentences.

If you ran over an animal would you keep driving? I honestly have no clue how I’d deal with it. Ideally I would pull over and help bring it to the side of the road, and try to ask for help from passersby as well. I’m still not sure what I should/would do next.

Where’s the best place to eat a romantic dinner? French, Spanish, and Italian restaurants always seem to carry a pleasant, date-y atmosphere to them, so any of those cuisines should be ok. I also like quieter restaurants with warm yellow lighting, since that makes me feel at home the most. The place definitely doesn't have to be super popular; I would just want for it to serve good food.

What hobby would you get into if time and money weren’t an issue? Flying planes.

What would be the most amazing adventure to go on? Probably something that’s booked with thrill-seeking adventures? Like a day of wakeboarding, paragliding, skydiving, riding an ATV...I would be exhausted as fuck and sleep for the next three days, but I can’t even begin to imagine how fun it would be.

When people come to you for help, what do they usually want help with? Writing stuff. < Yeah, essentially. My friends ask me for general life advice too.

Has anybody criticized the way your significant other looked like? Yeah. But I always defended her.

Have you written or drawn anything for somebody else? I mean I’ve written long letters, but I haven’t made a poem or song for anyone.

Who has impressed you most with what they’ve accomplished? These days it would probably be Arlan. He just finished his Masters in Journalism at Columbia and I couldn’t be more proud. I remember wanting to attend Columbia too, but seeing how my love of journalism turned out...I’ve long accepted the fact that that route was not meant for me, hahaha.

What is something you think everyone should do at least once in their lives? Finish a painting, which can also serve as a callout to me lol.

What would you rate 10/10? Seafood.

What do you hope never changes? My relationships with my best friends.

Would you ever have sex with the last person you texted? No, I barely have a clue who she is and she seemed decades older when she called me up this morning.

Is there anyone that you’d love to just spill your guts to? I’m good.

Where is the person you have feelings at right now?

Are you happy with your relationship status? Yessssssss. I love not having to worry about another person to spend on LOL

When did you last cry? What for? Two Saturdays ago. The one-year mark of my breakup had been coming up and an overwhelming wave of emotions just flooded me all of a sudden, I guess. There was happiness and relief from not being stuck in it anymore; feeling sorry for myself as I remembered the turmoil and deterioration I went through in the latter part the year; anger for the shit she pulled; and there was also just the general feeling of being grateful that I’m still here after everything.

Do you think you’re wasting your time on the person you love?

When’s the next time you’ll kiss someone? No clue. I’m not holding my breath for it and that’s okay.

Were you ever scared to death of anyone you knew? Or are you currently? Yeah, unfortunately I’ve always been surrounded by at least one person who terrifies me.

What’s the longest you’ve been away from home by yourself? Nothing more than a day. That’s something I have yet to try out.

Have you ever been made fun of, because of what you look like? Athenna was relentless in her insults. I dunno why I was friends her for as long as I was.

Have you ever made fun of others, because of what they look like? If they’re some random person on the internet with disgusting political views, then yeah; but it’s just thoughts I keep in my head and I never verbalized the bullying. But not anyone in real life. Do you think it’s cute when you’re leaving a place, and a guy says “no hug?” If I’m friends with the person I’ll banter with them for a bit until I give in for a hug. If it was any other guy I barely know...I would be disgusted and throw them the dirtiest glare.

Do you wear short shorts (if you’re a girl)? I didn't know short shorts were specific to females. < LOL same. Anyway no, not these days. I used to but they’re not really a part of my personal style anymore.

Who are you the most uncomfortable around? Relatives with the wrong political views.

Who has your heart? Nobody.

Should cloning ever be allowed to happen? I don’t see the point. No.

Are you impatient with really shy people? If it gets to the point that they seem aloof and radiate very I-could-not-care-less-about-getting-along-with-any-of-you vibes, then yeah I feel like I would get irritated pretty fast. But I was an extremely shy person once too, so I’m typically friendly with them and I would usually be That person who constantly stays next to them so they feel like they belong.

Does your house have air conditioning throughout, or do you have one that sits in your window? It sits in the window, as with most households here.

What is the most ridiculous band name you’ve heard recently? I haven’t encountered anything wacky recently.

Would you ever get a fashion mullet? No.

Do you believe that Jesus lived and is returning? No.

Do you believe in spiritual gifts? No.

Do you believe in callings? Not really, no.

If you were rich, would you get a professional photoshoot done? Hell no. I get extremely sheepish in front of a camera and a thousand times worse at posing.

#survey #surveys

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