#I’m not a professional please don’t blame me if this doesn’t work

[hanaamara]

As someone in their early twenties, and is currently dealing with pre-carpel tunnel, please take care of your forearms and wrists. They are important.

Use a brace if you can’t keep them straight. Can’t buy a brace, get an elastic (ACE is a brand people default to in lots of places) bandage. Cant buy a bandage, get a compression brace. Can’t buy that, do some light stretches and be mindful of how you use your wrists.

Chronic pain is no joke. Sometimes, it can’t be avoided. But, in the case of this specifically, it can be.

(Disclaimer: I am in no way a medical professional. I’m just someone who has experience with this type of thing. [And currently in a wrist brace.])

P.S. I use a copper wrist compression brace a lot. And have only recently gotten a medical brace. Medical braces are usually fine to wear for long periods of time. Compression braces aren’t. They can cause more harm than good like that.

[moonshynecybin]

i thinkkkkk this one is gonna be part of something larger but here's the first part of a fic (2.8k so far) where the first chapter is literally just rosquez having a conversation in an airport set around jerez 2024… i also wanted to add some good ole marquez brother goof arounds:

“Look, if you’re just gonna make fun of me—”

“No, please! I wanna hear the rest of this,” Alex says, leaning into Marc’s space and raising his eyebrows, goofy. It makes Marc let out a big laugh— full and loud. He stretches against the plastic of the airport gate seating, the movement pulling at overtired muscles. It feels like they’ve been here forever.

It’s been a long journey back to Spain— storm delays and rerouting stranding them in the airport for hours. They’re still here waiting for a connecting flight, puttering away next to their gate and shooting the shit. It’s been a good weekend —a podium for him— but he’s tired, and ready to be home.

“No no no no, I’m done.” He settles into his seat, pushing Alex’s face away from him. Alex cackles, and Marc points at him. “But you should do that professionally!”

Alex pulls one of his mild, exasperated faces, and it makes Marc smile wider. They’re probably being too loud. Marc doesn’t care.

“You know,” Alex points out, dragging out the last syllable of know so it sounds like knowwwww, “You are the world’s absolute worst loser.” 

Marc shrugs. “It’s a good thing, too— in our line of work you have to be.” He’s unrepentant. It’s how he’s built.

He ignores the face that Alex is surely making and leans down to rummage through his carry on, looking for headphones. For sure, if he has to lose to anyone, he’d prefer it was Alex. With him, the nagging bite of loss usually manages to morph into something lighter, more fun, just because he knows Alex won’t ever blame him for how he gets, how involved he can be in winning. That doesn’t mean he enjoys losing—he’ll never enjoy that—but it takes it back to being a game. None of the anticipation of a sour aftermath that he’s faced in the past, the wait for the other foot to drop, and the play to slide towards resentment without him noticing.

“I doubt losing at a video game will help you gain a competitive edge on the track,” Alex asserts dryly, turning his attention back to his phone and tapping open the Kindle app. He’s been obsessed with those fantasy novels, lately. “You can’t win at everything.”

“Trust me, I know,” Marc laughs, rubbing at his arm. He needs to call his PT. Whatever. “But! I don’t think that first thing is true.” Banishing the thought from his head, he leans over to poke Alex in the arm. Alex swats at his hand, not looking up from his book, and Marc pokes him again, harder this time. “I have a winner mentality.”

“You have a loser mentality. You just lost.” Alex is staring at what Marc thinks is the table of contents.

“Semantics.” Another poke.

Alex looks up, incredulous. Victory. 

“You were cheating! And you still lost!” 

“But you don’t have any proof of that.”

And Alex shakes his head like he can’t believe him, laughs again. “You are insufferable.”

Marc grins and Alex sighs, scrubs a hand over his head.

“I’m going to go grab some water. Maybe eventually they’ll let us board this fucking plane. You want anything?”

Marc shakes his head.

“No, I’m good.” He ate earlier. He opens his phone back up, thumbs over his home screen. Nothing looks exciting. He hasn't been on instagram so much lately– avoiding comments.

He sighs and contemplates opening his dating app. He doesn’t.

Nothing’s felt— he’s busy. 

It’s always been too much— too complicated with his schedule, with travel, timezones, turning over battles in his head. Braking maneuvers and tire pressure edging out any relationship before it got off the ground properly. Lately, since his arm, and since Alex had told him to go find someone— it’s been nagging more.

But no one gets it. Not like he does. And he’s just never found someone that felt like they were worth all of the effort it would take, keeping a relationship together in a life like his, bending himself around racing. There’s been flashes, some false starts, but nothing has ever–

He hears a distracted chuckle behind his back, a light sound, happy, and it hooks him, hard. A sucker punch. He glances over, his previous train of thought abandoned.

It’s— 

He's heard that laugh before. 

They haven’t seen each other— properly, actually exchanging words— since last year. The end of the season. They were both in the bathroom at the Lights Out Gala. Marc in a tux, Vale in a flannel. Marc had held the door for Vale as he had left. 

Vale, once he’d registered his presence, had thrown him a thin lipped, restrained smile, and thanked him. Asked him vaguely about his surgery. Moved on.

And now he’s on the phone, a few feet away, and he probably hasn’t even seen Marc yet. Instead, he’s chattering lowly, head slightly tilted as he drags a thumb over the handle of his suitcase.

Marc has to wonder if stuff like this happens to other people.

Alex hasn’t left yet, but is about to. He's noticed, of course he noticed, and he tugs on Marc’s sleeve, voice low. “You need me to stay?”

Marc shrugs, shakes his head. He's been around Vale before, after everything, in close quarters even. It's fine. 

He's had a lot of practice.

Those last few years, before Vale retired, after Argentina—after Sepang, really, though he maybe hadn’t processed it yet— he worked on it a lot. On taking Vale off of the pedestal, making him more of a person. On realizing he was always going to have a different relationship to Vale than Vale would to him.

He works hard at that distance, enforcing it, maintaining it. Tending to it.

And he had gotten somewhere better, once he had realized that. Had stopped trying to say hi to him every time he saw him. Vale is his hero, and he knows by know that that’s never going to change completely. The precise way his presence lights Marc up, makes him giddy, the disbelieving undercurrent that Valentino Rossi knows his name— but he also has come to terms with the fact that it's never going to be like he imagined when he was twenty, and he thought maybe he could matter as much to Vale as he did to Marc.

He knows that.

But it was an adjustment. It took some time. It’s better now. He's used to it.

Now, he can sit at an airport gate with him and ignore him.

He’s probably been staring at his phone screen a little too hard. 

“Allora— so, how have you been?” A voice asks, simply, closer to his ear than it should be. Of course.

He puts the emphasis on you, the full force of him narrowed on the word. Marc stays very, forcibly still. Projects calm.

Vale’s across from him, now, got there without him noticing. His legs are spread out wide in the seat across from Marc, hat pulled low and posture easy. His face is neutral— pleasant. Marc knows that means absolutely nothing.

Vale’s gaze charts over him, carefully, taking him in. Marc swallows, steels his jaw.

Vale has always had a way of observing. Leveraging that beam of attention. He doesn’t miss a thing, never has, and he looks good— tired, but relaxed, thin frame bundled up in a hoodie, hat pulled low over his forehead. Incognito mode, Marc remembers him joking sometime in 2013, after they had snuck out of the paddock to grab a drink at a bar post media day. But you always dress like that, Marc had said, probably too confidently, and Vale had laughed, had leant in and said Well, if I want them to recognize me, I just wear the Yamaha shirt.

Marc blinks. Vale’s eyebrows are raised, expectantly. He’s been quiet too long.

“Why?” He asks pleasantly. No use pretending.

“How have you been?” Vale asks, evenly, continuing as if Marc didn’t talk. “It has been a few months, yes? Since we’ve seen each other? The gala?” He looks away, shrugging. “I wondered about your arm– it seems better.”

“You could have texted.” Marc says, furrowing his brow. He's being overly serious, he knows, but he’s curious. He didn’t expect Vale to text, knew he wouldn’t actually. It still, despite it all, prickled at him. Whenever he was injured, before, Vale would always ask. He hadn't, anytime in the last four years, despite the severity of the injury.

So why is he asking now.

Vale huffs a laugh, swipes a thumb over his phone case, waves it lazily. “My number, it ah, leaked.” He makes a face. “I had to get a new phone a while ago. I don't think your contact made it over.”

It’s better than him deleting it. Better than Marc expected, to be honest.

It could also be a lie.

“Oh. Well.” Marc, says, unsure how to continue. He smiles at Vale anyways, lifts his good shoulder, combing through his brain for what he actually wants Vale to know about his arm. Not lying, just slightly to the left of the truth. He doesn't want anything getting back to Pecco, but Vale can sense insincerity from a mile off.

“I can't complain. The last surgery, it helped.”

Vale’s eyebrows jump, making a little grimace. “I heard, it did not look very pleasant.”

The documentary, Marc thinks, Did he watch the fucking documentary?

“—Now it’s just the bike? Managing the new braking style?” Vale asks. Marc cannot fucking remember the last time Vale asked him two questions in a row.

“Ah, you know. Trade secret.” Vale’s team is also vying for the GP25 — best to keep as much as he can close to his chest.

Vale raises an eyebrow and Marc folds like a cheap stack of cards.

He sighs. nods. Who cares. Vale’s watched him ride for years, he knows Marc still has a little bit to improve on the year old Ducati. He’s seen the data.

“Now it’s just the getting the bike, nailing the setup.” He goes for the PR version of the truth. Nevermind that his arm is still in PT three times a week. The Ducati is good— Marc is having more fun. Fighting at the front. Adjusting easier than he thought he would.

But it’s not a Honda. He needs a bit more time, and he needs– he needs the factory spec. And it looks like Jorge Martin might be the one to get it.

Vale nods, neutral, like the conversation’s ending, like he’s being gracious with Marc’s answer, letting him keep his emotions close— and a sharp, unexplainable feeling digs into Marc’s chest, that same way it did when he was watching him from the seat over in whatever press conference, those first few years. He wants to keep Vale talking. Wants him to keep looking at Marc, wants to— Marc doesn’t quite know, exactly, but it feels a lot like he does on track, when he just can’t quite keep himself from reaching for the win.

He speaks. Vale’s gaze snaps back to him, head following after, a little lazier.

“You? How's endurance racing? Missing anything about MotoGP?”

He says like he doesn’t know. Like he doesn't keep tabs. Like people don’t ask him about Vale’s results.

Anyways, it's hard to be involved in MotoGP and not hear about Vale, even when he’s been retired going into three years now. People talk, always eager for Marc’s opinion on his great rival.

There’s a quirk at the corner of Vale’s mouth. Like he’s won something. Marc curls a fist tight, ignoring the feeling that he’s given information away.

“Some things.” Vale replies, an odd glimmer to him. His brow furrows, then: “I miss how it was around ten years ago, more.”

Marc blinks.

“— Getting old, I mean. It was not so fun, there at the end. I could see everything I wanted to do, every move I would've made on track, ” He sits down across from Marc, leans back in his seat, long torso bending with his lazy posture, the mood shifts and he laughs. “But I was too old! It was harder.”

Of course that’s what he meant. Marc doesn’t— he doesn’t miss Marc. doesn’t think about him much at all, probably. Wasn’t saying he missed how it was between them, ten years ago, when they were friends. Marc knows that.

“I'm getting up there, now.” Marc jokes, “Acosta, he is on the horizon.” He’s not sure it lands, but Vale huffs a laugh anyways, rubs at his eyebrow.

“You?” Vale asks, incredulous. That x-ray quality is back in his vision. He always— He used to always get Marc that way, when he would dial in and make Marc think the words he was saying mattered to him. 

Vale shakes his head, shimmies a shoulder, wags a finger. “No no no no, don’t try that– you are still young, you cant talk to me about old.”

Marc grins. He doesn’t feel it so much, now, the years between them, but it’s a nice reminder of how good it felt, being the up and comer on the scene. The next Valentino Rossi. That was fun.

But he’s older now, has been in the paddock longer than almost anyone, just like Vale had– and he can feel it, dragging at his arm. can see it, in the lines under his eyes, the unfamiliarity of the faces around him.

He wonders how Vale did it for so long. That slow decline— new people popping up every day, ones who learned from him, perfected ideas he pioneered, then using them against him. 

He remembers how he felt on the podium yesterday, and decides not to ask. He leans back.

“Ehhhh, you are not really that much older than me.”

Vale’s expression doesn’t change, still set at his default neutrally animated, but something charges in the air, and Marc gets the sense he wants to say something, toying with the edge of the cliff.

Marc searches for something that won’t rock the boat. He settles on a compliment.

“Pecco was good this weekend— He beat me. You trained him well.”

Vale’s shoulders slide down, relaxing minutely. The charge slips away. Success.

“Ah, he’s a lot better than he was when you showed up at the ranch ten years ago, yes.” 

Marc leans forwards, “Hey!” So much for avoiding fraught topics.

Vale tilts his chin, considering. “What did you say about him? I don’t think it was flattering–”

“—That was ten years ago! I’m wrong ONCE.”

“Once is enough!”

“Apparently.” Marc hits back. 

And it’s good— they’re laughing, Marc thinks, he’s laughing— but that last bit, the apparently, hangs there, snagging in Marc’s mind.

Once is enough. Apparently.

Vale’s smile dies slowly, once it’s clear Marc isn’t about to continue, and it’s odd. Not fraught, for once— though Marc hasn't been the best at recognizing when it was in the past, but he’s pretty sure here. The moment dangles for a second, as they sit across from each other in an airport looking at each other. Vale’s face is doing that thing it was earlier, where he seems to be on the verge of some moment, and his mouth opens. For some reason, Marc flushes hot on the back of his neck. His skin feels tight, and their eye contact holds.

“All good?” It’s Alex, coming back with his Smartwater.

Vale sits up straighter, immediately, posture snapping into place. He nods at Alex, who ignores him, and slides back into his seat. He shrugs at Marc, a little in-joke. What did I do? it asks, fully knowing the answer. Alex has never been as shy as Marc is about his feelings concerning Valentino Rossi. 

And it's that above anything that makes Marc feel like he’s dunked his head in ice water, reality crashing in. The moment snaps as Vale tucks back into himself, leaving Marc off his balance. He feels dizzy and a little off kilter, like he’s done something wrong, like he’s gotten away with something, something illicit, which is ridiculous — he’s just been sitting here.

Nothing’s even happened. They've been two meters away from each other the entire time.

They haven’t even touched.

Vale’s eyes are boring into him, blue and clear. Alert. And Marc catches a flash of— concern, maybe, his brow is creasing— and it tugs at Marc, makes him want to glance back and make him feel easy, lift the corner of his mouth, shrug his shoulders and dismiss Alex’s chilliness. Makes him hot and nervy, out of his skin with the need to do something he doesn’t have a name for.

He smiles.

Maybe he is doing something wrong.

Vale smiles back, and it’s brilliant.

The flight attendant comes over the PA. They’re boarding.

[amourdivine]

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 🤍 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒.𝐏. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 & 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

Hello, lovelies! This was a suggested reading from a dear anonymous.  It had a more romantic subtext, but I hope you take out what resonates & leave what doesn’t! If you have any more suggestions, so let me know! Feedback is always welcome. If you liked this reading, please consider booking a paid reading or tipping me at @ amourdivinetarot@gmail.com! xo. ♡

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none of the images are mine unless stated otherwise

how to choose your pile.  take deep breaths for a few minutes & look at each and every one of the piles separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later.

♡ ♡ ♡     pick a card masterlist & information

disclaimer. this is a general reading for entertainment purposes. tarot is a divination tool & is not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i do not take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings.

amourdivine. 2021 - 2023 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

PILE ONE 💜

what do they think about you? ten of swords • eight of pentacles • six of cups.

I just heard Coldplay’s “The Scientist”, specifically the bit in which he sings “take me back to the start”. I wonder if you two had a fight, some sort of falling out or heavy disagreement. They think they’ve lost you - this is weighing heavy on their mind. They wish they could go back to when things were simpler, when things weren’t so difficult and anxiety-inducing. I think they feel a lot of shame and blame as well (I heard “blame game”) and I’m not going to lie, pile one, this person may be overthinking this connection, especially the way they see it. It feels heavy, like my chest and my throat are holding so much energy but nothing comes out. They’re not thinking clearly, despite thinking so much, it’s really difficult for them to “think” a way out of this situation you’re in. However, they do wish to work towards a peaceful resolution with you. They want to find a way to make things feel lighthearted and happy for the two of you again. This person could also be listening to a lot of heavy/sad songs, because so many of them are coming through to me. They’re experiencing a lot of self-hatred and very difficult emotions are going through them. They’re mourning some kind of happy ending, but they’re still willing to salvage the relationship if that's something you also desire.

how do they feel towards you? the empress • ace of swords • page of pentacles.

Gosh, there’s so much love here. They not only miss you, but they want to talk to you… to ask you how to work this out. They just want it to work it out between you two, pile one. Even if it’s difficult, like I mentioned in the previous section, they only want you. They don’t see anyone else for them. They don’t want to let you go, to lose you. It’s why their mind is so foggy and so clouded with poor judgment, they feel a lot of despair over the thought of losing the love you two have and shared. If your connection ended, they’re still not over it - they’re refusing to move on, simply because in their heart, they’ve decided it’s you. And I don’t think they’ve fully voiced it out just how much they want you, but they intend to do so. No matter how painful this situation has become, they hold some sort of hope that you’ll want to work things out with them too. They love you in a pure, devoted way and know how unique, how beautiful this connection is.

channeled messages: “i hate myself for what i did to you”, “i can’t forget you”, “you’re beautiful”, runaway, empty roads, highways, road trips, memories, polaroid pictures, “i wish things were easier”, “you betrayed me”, burning bridges, “do you still love me?”, deja vu.

channeled song: ghostin’ by Ariana Grande.

PILE TWO 🩷

what do they think about you? the magician • the lovers • the world

I couldn’t name a more beautiful spread. They put you on a pedestal, sort of - this person sees all that you are and they’re amazed. They admire you, they love you and they can’t see anyone else but you. This person’s got heart eyes when they look at you, maybe their eyes sparkle - pay attention next time you speak to them in person. Although they may wonder if they’re good enough for you, this person truly, deeply is inspired by you. It’s possible this is a friend of yours who’s crushing on you and vice-versa, but neither one of you is willing to admit it yet. This is a dreamy vibe, even, I feel like I’m immersed in Piscean energy. Maybe one of you is Neptune dominant or has Pisces in 1st. It’s the feeling of a high school crush, the intense, beautiful and almost soul-crushing one, but the kind of connection that has a lasting impact. Even if you haven’t known this person for a long time, they are eager to know more about you, all the little things that you do and say are stuck in the back of their mind. They don’t take it for granted. You’re extremely important to them, regardless of the nature of this relationship, you’re someone they want around.

how do they feel towards you? three of cups • five of wands • nine of swords.

They’re anxious, because they’ve got some heavy competition. Even if they see all these positive qualities in you, this person is afraid they’ll ruin the friendship by risking it. So many people are interested in you, that they’re afraid of rejection, afraid of all the people vying for your attention and sometimes, they just wish they could get rid of these feelings already. It’s possible there’s a 3rd party situation going on - either you or them could be in a committed relationship and there’s a lot of guilt and anxiety involved. You’re this person’s wish come true, but they don’t know what to do. They’re stuck in their head about it, fantasizing about coming towards you, talking to you and not feeling so insecure or jealous when they see you with someone else. I got the vivid imagery of someone seeing their crush talking to someone else at a party and being almost soul crushed by the fact that they’re so afraid of approaching the other. It’s giving me fanfiction vibes (in the best way possible, I promise). I’m almost sorry for this person because they’re so blindsided by their pessimism that they can’t fully see a way into being with you, no matter how much they want to. They know they need to make a move before they lose you for good, though.

channeled messages: “i’m so sick of love songs”, “i just want to talk to you”, instagram, DM’s, subtle flirting, “are you alone tonight?”, crush, “i feel invisible”, insecurity, jealousy, bonfire party, college life, “give me back my jacket”, inside jokes.

channeled song: Are You Bored Yet? by Wallows ft. Clairo.

PILE THREE 💖

what do they think about you? eight of cups • six of cups • the devil.

“Gone for good”, I just heard that. My playlist started playing sad breakup songs too, it’s honestly a little heartbreaking and quite bittersweet. This person thinks, well, they know you’ve left them behind and you seem done with them. You left them and they’re triggered. They’ve got so much going on in their head, always filled with “what ifs”. Your connection has turned sour and they think you wanted to pursue something better for yourself, something that didn’t trigger the both of you so much. I feel like this connection may have turned toxic, so they know you needed to leave, but nonetheless, they’re grieving, they’re sour and bitter. I don’t know if this person was heavily immature towards you or even disrespectful, but you left them on a chokehold because they didn’t expect you to simply walk away so easily. I don’t think it’s been easy for either one of you. I’m more so feeling a situationship or a friendship kind of vibe here, not a full, official commitment. Everything they see in you is almost a projection of their worst fears. All your worst traits mirror back to them, calling them to do some soul deep healing. I saw the Death card in the back of my mind, so I think this person knows it’s time to move on, to let you go, but they’re still obsessing over this ending you’ve had and it’s possible they lurk on your social media. It’s not an evil or malicious energy, but they’re not in a good headspace to talk or see you right now.

how do they feel towards you? two of swords • knight of cups • ten of wands.

Sometimes they love you, they miss you. Sometimes they just hate everything that came to be about the two of you. They’re tired, overburdened by their feelings, so sick of feeling so much and nothing at the same time. This person can’t really pinpoint exactly what they feel for you, but I got nauseous and almost sick to my stomach? I think they just wish they could erase this pain forever, but sometimes, they wish they could get some closure from you as well. It’s possible they wish they could give you some closure as well. All these messy feelings are taking their time in this person’s heart and body, but I think this connection, as triggering as it may have been, has brought up a lot of things back into the surface. Regardless of how they feel about you, it all ties back to their wounds, their feelings and themselves. I got some heavy Scorpio feelings in the last section and now I’m getting some Libra - I feel like those were significant energies and placements for your pile. This person’s not only heartbroken but almost… burnt out by everything that went down. They’re slowly trying to heal, to let go and forgive, but they’re not having the easiest time. I don’t think they’re “evil eyeing” you in any way, but I also think some distance will do the both of you some good. I feel like Spirit wants to emphasize how good this ending will be for you.

channeled messages: “you deserve better”, “i want to go back to who i was, mental health, physical health, “get over it”, 777, friends with benefits, messing around, fuck around and find out, taylor swift, moved on, finally, second chances, “i was a second option”, simply unrequited.

channeled song: Berenstein by The Band CAMINO | extra: Favourite Song by Tim Chadwick.

PILE FOUR 🩵

what do they think about you? the magician • ace of cups • six of swords.

You’re so nurturing, healing and magical. This person sees you as some sort of fairy, a beautiful, wholesome person who’s got so much love to give and to receive. Even the song that started playing is one of my favorites, a very healing and soft one. They see you as a safe person, an Earth angel, someone who’s almost like their lucky charm. The vibes here aren’t only romantic - they fit for friendships and familial relationships too. They’ve got a lot of fond memories and stories of you. I see someone going through a photo album and laughing to themselves in joy. This person sees a lot of good things in you and you’ve given them some sort of renewed faith in connections and humanity. They know you’ve been through a lot - they see you’re still healing. Every now and then, they catch glimpses of moments when you’re not feeling so good, but they still see your potential and growth nonetheless. I think your words and presence calm this person down. They value your advice immensely, all your words of wisdom and encouragement. I feel like Gemini and Leo are significant placements for this pile - I got the Strength card in the back of my mind, with the woman caressing the lion in the card. You bring calm and softness to this person’s life.

how do they feel towards you? queen of pentacles • ace of pentacles • two of wands.

I heard “wife you up”, lol. If this is a romantic connection, this person wants to offer you a deeper form of commitment - in whatever way that means for your connection. I feel like this person is smitten by you, even if you’re friends, you’re their closest, most prized friend. They’re making plans for something bigger, something greater between the two of you. This person views you as someone they could have ultimate success in every way, someone trustworthy and someone they intend on making accommodations for to fit in their life. It’s so soft and sweet, I see a woman arranging and rearranging pillows in a soft-looking bedroom to make sure her guests will be comfortable during their stay. I think they’re making room for you in their heart and mind, even their home as well. Maybe they haven’t told you, but they’re giddy to have met you and to spend more time with you. If this person proposes to you soon, please don’t tell them I told you! I’m not trying to ruin their plans, but let me say your connection has some really sweet, lovely surprises along the way. If you get engaged though, let me know, pile four. I’m really happy for you!

channeled messages: “fight for you”, “let me love you”, acts of service, bouquets, rainy days, “put your head on my shoulder”, “it’s okay to cry”, “i want to be there for you”, “you don’t have to pretend with me”, cupping someone’s face in your hands, comfort food, hugs, ice cream, care bears, pisces, cancer, healing, therapy, inner child. 

channeled song: Room Service by Holly Humberstone | extra: Break For You by Valley.

amourdivine. 2021 - 2023 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Dr. Y/L/N (Hannibal)

Description: Y/N is Hannibal’s doctor while he’s in prison and he’s obsessed with her.

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 1,421k

Request:

Hi,

I heard you are taking requests, could you please write (if you are comfortable) a Hannibal fanfic, where he is already imprisoned and starts obsessing over a doctor!reader,who comes to visit him after he got injured.This happens multiple times due to Chilton‘s ruthless care. After breaking out, he soon turns up to the reader‘s house. The reader also thought that he was rather charming and it ends with smut? (Again if you are comfortable)

Hannibal turned around as a beautiful woman came into the room to check on him. He had to go through this every week and at first he hated it but after the doctor got replaced by someone that was so beautiful he was actually okay with it. He would never admit this outloud but he sometimes would hurt himself just to see her. Luckily nobody caught onto that. “Dr. Lecter, have you kept yourself out of harm’s way?” She asked as she walked up to him. He chuckled, “Dr.Y/L/N I’m offended that you think so low of me.” He said to her as she wrote something down on her paper. “Well considering this is the 5th time I’ve seen you this week?” She asked and he nodded. “Can you blame me? I have a very pretty doctor.” His face turned red at his words. He loved to flirt with her any chance he got and though she did find him attractive she kept it professional. “Thank you Dr.Lecter.” She said and began asking him questions. 

Y/N had gone into work one day and had been informed that the FBI took Dr.Lecter for the day and that he would be back. She felt a little sad that she wouldn’t be able to see him that day but was glad he was okay. 

She watched the news in horror as she found out that he escaped and was on the loose. Sure he was attractive but she knew what he did and what he was capable of. How could the FBI be so stupid? That was probably his plan all along. But when she got a knock at her door she didn’t think much of it. She had neighbors that sometimes needed to borrow stuff no matter the time of day or not so when she opened the door to see Hannibal she gasped. “Hello Dr.Y/L/N.” She stared at him with wide eyes, “How did you find my home?” She asked the man.

He chuckled, “It took me hours to do so but you live close by.” She was confused on what he meant by that but was too stunned at the fact that he was at her door. “Dr. Lecter, why are you here?” She asked him. There had been tension between them ever since they met but right now it was stronger than ever. “Dr.Y/L/N or shall I say Y/N we both know that during our visits we may have acted professional but there was never professionalism between us.” He stated. “Dr. Lecter, you always flirted with me. I was the one to keep it professional.” She told him. “But you liked my flirty, did you not?” He asked, stepping closer to her.

This caused her to take a step back and accidentally let him into her home. He stared her down waiting for the answer that she didn’t have. She knew it was wrong but she did like it. “Y/N I know you are attracted to me. Don’t hide it.” He said and leaned down and kissed her. She didn’t kiss back. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to but it was wrong. “This is wrong Dr.Lecter.”She pointed out against his lips. “But it feels so right doesn’t it? And call me Hannibal.” He whispers and kisses her again. This time she doesn’t hesitate and kisses him back. Their lips were perfect together and felt amazing.

Her hands that were placed at her sides went up to pull off his jacket. He let her take it off him and picked her up causing her to squeak into the kiss. He slammed her against the wall as the kiss got more heated. Her hands were tugging his hair causing him to groan into her mouth. Once they needed oxygen they pulled away and he went to kiss her neck. She sighed as he kissed down her neck at some points leaving marks. As he sucked on her neck she moaned his name. It was a beautiful sound that he would die to hear over and over again. “Lift your arms.” He mumbled into her neck and she did so. He took off her shirt revealing her perfect breasts to him.

She watched as he leaned down to suck on one of her nipples causing her to gasp. His mouth felt so good on her nipple that she could imagine where it felt in other places. After he assaulted one he moved on to the other. He left marks all around her boobs as he came back up to kiss her needy lips. She began unbuttoning his dress shirt and pulled it off him. Her hands felt up and his chest as she traveled down to his pants. She tugged on his pants and he got the hint. He pulled away from her lips and asked her “Where is your bedroom?” She told him and he carried her into the room.

He dropped her on the bed and removed his pants. She pulled down her PJ Pants to reveal soaking wet panties. He chuckled at the sight and pulled down his boxers. His dick was huge; she was almost sure that it wouldn’t fit. But her panties got more soaked at the sight. He ran a hand up her soft leg until it came in contact with her panties. “My my you're very wet.” He said and pulled them down her legs until they were off. She sighed at the feeling of cool air hitting her pussy. He pulled her so that their crouches lined up. “Are you ready?” He asked, looking down at her as she was falling apart.

She nodded quickly and bucked her hips just to feel something. He chuckled and lined his dick up with her soaking wet hole. He sighed and slowly pushed in not knowing her experience. He watched as her face contorted different emotions. Some of pain and some of pleasure. She felt nice and warm and super tight. He loved the feeling of her. He loved it so much that he let out a groan of pure pleasure and admiration. Her hands looked for something to latch onto but she couldn’t until he was all the way inside of her. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands gripped her own thighs as she cried out as he started thrusting.

His hands covered hers as his hips snapped into her. He watched as she closed her eyes and her mouth opened into a perfect o shape. She looked so sexy that his hips snapped against hers even harder. His name fell from her lips in a whimper and her eyes opened to meet his. He watched as her lustful eyes stared back at him until they rolled back into her head and her body arched. Her pussy was squeezing him so tight, he was sure that if he tried to pull out it wouldn’t work. He let out deep grunts that were made at the same time her noises were. He was never super loud during sex but she was and oh he loved it.

Her hands squeezed her thighs so hard she definitely left bruises as her high was near. “Hannibal, I'm close.” She whimpers out as he groans out a “me too.” It would be magical if they came together. Her body started shaking and he knew that at any point she would come. “Cum for me baby.” He managed out as he was also close. Her back arched and he could feel her cum all over his dick triggering his orgasm. He only let out a grunt as he came but she screamed and whined as he rode out her orgasm until there was nothing left.

Both of them breathing hard and holding on to each other as they calmed down. She felt him soften inside of her and pull out causing her to whimper at the loss of contact. She managed to sit up and look up at him. He looked so good all sweaty and fucked out. Little did she know how she looked. “That was great.” She told him as she ran her hand up and down his arm. He smiled at her and nodded. “You are very attractive Dr.Y/L/N.” He tells her and that makes her smile. “I would like to get to know you better and not just as my doctor.” Her smile goes down a bit and she looks at him. “That’s great Hannibal but unfortunately I have to get you back to prison.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crushed 12

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

Note: I am very sick rn and didn't sleep.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

Jonathan closes the door and flips the small looped bar in front of it. You put your work bag on the counter and cling to it, bowing your head as you close your eyes. You’re mortified. More than you’re afraid, you are embarrassed. He must think you’re so pathetic.

“I’m sorry–” you begin.

“How long has this been going on?” He asks abruptly.

You open your eyes and breathe out. You leave your bag as it is and shrug. You cross your arms and turn your back to him.

“You really don’t have to stay. You can sneak out once it gets dark–”

“I’m not leaving,” he insists, “and you’re going to answer the question.”

That tone. So rigid it slices into you. That’s how a boss talks. That’s what he is. Your superior. He holds your job in his hands and you’ve already dragged him down into the dirt of your life. You pace and hug yourself.

“A few days?” You utter, “it’s my fault. I… just a stupid crush. I don’t know why I ever thought I was good enough. I don’t know why I’m saying all this. I should’ve left him alone, that’s all it is. I did it to myself.”

You look around. The apartment is the same mess you left behind. The ruin that Colin inflicted upon your safe space. Why are you so stupid?

“You can’t blame yourself for his actions. He did this, didn’t he?”

You shrug again.

“So you felt something for him, that isn’t a crime. But this,” he slowly strides closer, brushing by as he passes and puts the coffee table upright, “this is. You’re too good for him, fawn. He knows it and so he acts out like the child he is.”

“You don’t have to lie–”

“I know it isn’t my place to say all this. Admittedly, I’ve crossed a lot of professional lines in the last few days but it doesn’t worry me. Because when I see someone like you who needs help, well, I don’t think so much of red tape.” He tidies up the strewn coasters and stacks them neatly.

“Please, don’t– I’ll clean all this up.”

“You will do no such thing. I am overriding your authority,” he declares, “not as your boss, but I hope, your friend. So, I will tell you exactly what you will do,” he smiles as he takes a book off the floor and smooths the pages before closing it, “you will go and choose some cozy nightclothes and I will run you a hot bath. And you will take your time and relax. I will tend to all of this.”

“I… Jonathan,” you drop your arms and clasp your hands together, “I’m not helpless. I don’t need–”

“You do need this. You need to let yourself not think. For just a little.” He stands and removes his jacket. You watch him drape it over the back of the couch and he unbuttons his cuffs, rolling them up, “you nearly passed out from fright in my kitchen this morning. I think this is much more serious than you're admitting.”

“He’s just mad–”

“And I’ve seen what angry men do,” he interjects, “I don’t want to scare you further but a door is just a door. These things are just things,” he gestures to the clutter of your belongings tossed around the apartment, “but you are not replaceable. You must take care of yourself first and if I must put on my boss voice and order you to do so, then that is what is what I will do.” He pushes his shoulders back and clears his throat, “I expect you to be bathed and nestled into bed within the next two hours.” He checks his watch, “so darling, you’ve a deadline to meet.”

You blink. You don’t have the strength or energy to argue. As always, you’re weak. You slump your shoulders and pull your hands apart.

“Okay…” you accept meekly.

“I will have a tea ready with your bath as well,” he says, “tea is always a good cure for whatever ails.”

You nod and pivot reluctantly on your heel. You peek at the door before you head down the hall. You can't believe this. Your neighbour is insane and your boss is cleaning up your apartment.

You enter the bedroom and stop short. Your bedspread is a mess, wrinkled and shoved to one side. In your haze, you hadn't noticed when you came to grab your things. You'd only been thinking of an escape.

Inching closer, you notice something else. A stain on the sheet. Crusted and dry. Are you serious? 

You hold back a scream. Instead you rip the blankets to floor and strip the sheet by the corner, crumpling it to lay with the rest. You are absolutely repulsed by what he's done. He's tainted every part of your life.

You step back breathless. You can't do this. You can't handle this. This isn't what you wanted. You just wanted to be wanted. Is that such a crime?

You hear the bathroom faucet squeak. The noise pierces your self-pitying cloud and you turn to your dresser, pulling open the drawer and grabbing a night gown blindly. You go to the bathroom door and peer in.

Jonathan stands straight, bracing his hips as he rolls his shoulders. He turns slowly, his eyes drifting to you as he flinches in surprise.

"There you are. A hot bath and tea," he gestures to the mug on the corner of the counter. "I've left the bag in to steep."

"Uh, thanks, that's... too much. Really, I'm all good. I don't need anything else."

"Of course, I'll leave you to it," he raises his hands and comes forward, sidling past you into the hall, "but I will be at hand if you call for me."

You hum dully and step inside. You close the door gently and gust out a long sigh. You put the nightgown down and look at yourself in the mirror. 

Maybe you should just quit and cut your losses. Go back and live with your mother so she can compare you to your sisters. So you know your worth clearly and don't get any more silly or dangerous ideas.

💗

The hot water takes over and you let yourself ease into it. Still, you are innately aware of the activity on the other side of the wall. Jonathan moves with purpose but also caution, you can tell he’s doing his best not to disturb you. That amount of consideration is flattering but unfamiliar.

When the water is lukewarm, you get out, drying off with the waiting towel. You have no urgency. Reluctant to go out and face reality and your unexpected houseguest. You pull on your nightgown, a pinkish sheath pattern with clusters of petals. 

You emerge, peering up and one the hallway before tiptoeing out. You go to the bedroom, intent on hiding away. There, you find a set of fresh sheets pulled over the bed and blankets neatly folded down at the top. He is thorough.

You can’t help the pang of guilt in your chest. You should at least thank him before you sink into self-pity. You should maybe even consider finding a new job and ease his burden completely. You don’t expect with how it’s gone so far, that you’ll be holding onto your position much longer.

“Ah, something smells wonderful,” Jonathan frightens you as he strides down the hall behind you.

You turn in the doorway, nearly choking on a surprised guffaw. He’s exchanged his sleek tailored suit for the fluffy red house robe you never use. You almost forgot you had that.

“Um,” you tilt your head curiously, “what happened–”

“I got a bit carried away. I thought to wash the bedding, then I saw the hamper, and finally, I realised I won’t have anything clean to wear tomorrow so I took the liberty of putting everything in–”

“You’re doing laundry?” You furrow your brow.

“Well, I regret to inform you I made the executive decision to dispose of your former bedding. I’m certain you understand,” he hooks a long thumb in the pocket of the robe. It’s barely at his knees and his shoulders keep it from closing above the middle of his chest. “I was only coming to ask if you’re hungry. It’s well past supper time.”

“Er, I’m okay,” you back up, “I think I’m just going to lay down for the night. I’d hate to miss another day of work.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” he says, “but if you wish, I will let you be.”

“Or… I guess I should stay up and help you with the laundry–”

“Ah, no, I’ve a handle on all that, you rest. I don’t want you lifting a finger,” he puts a hand on his hip and you notice how the bottom of the rob shifts, just a little. Eyes up. “More tea?”

“No thank you,” you clutch your hands in front of your chest. You’re not wearing a bra and the realisation is making it more obvious. “I, uh, I’ll just go to bed, but, um, if you do need help–”

“I won’t, please,” he puts his palms up, “you deserve a night of peace.”

You smile at him. A small smile, the most you can muster. Your eyes flit away shyly and you stare at the wall.

“You’re too nice–”

“I don’t think so. I only think you’re not used to kindness,” he insists, “I shall do my best not to disturb you.”

“Thanks,” you back up into the bedroom and rest your hand on the knob, “I won’t mind if you do.”

“Nor would I,” he says, “were you to disturb me. I mean, if you require anything, you may simply ask, darling.”

A sweltering moment of tension wedges between you. You chew your lip and turn slowly on one heel. You reluctantly inch the door towards the frame, “good night, Jonathan.”

“Good night,” he purrs back as you gently shut the door.

You stop and lean against it. You won’t let yourself overthink this. Not again. You’ve learned your lesson. You are not special, only pathetic.

💗

Sleep hits you harder than you expect. The adrenaline of your day fizzles and leaves you burnt out. You drift into a thick slumber,  swept up in nonsensical recreations of the waking world. Colin’s angry voice and Jonathan’s gentle touches smother you, cornering you, suffocating you in the void of your subconscious.

Your anxiety peaks and snaps you back to the world. More than the pluck in your stomach, there is something else tugging at your consciousness. You roll over and groan as the tinkling melody quiets. It’s not your ringtone. You can’t even remember where you left your phone.

You look at your alarm clock. It’s after four in the morning. You can’t believe you’ve slept so long. You still have a few hours.

You sit up and hang your legs over the side of the bed. You stand, your bladder squeezing. That’s what you get for drinking tea so late. You go to the door and pause as you listen through the barrier. You hear Jonathan’s voice and another in return. He must be on a call.

The thought of your own phone nags you. You’ll need to plug it in or you won’t have any juice left for work. You open the door, careful not to make any noise. You could just sneak out and grab it from your bag. You’ll deal with the weight in your bladder on the way back.

You pad down the hall and peek out into the living room. You see only the glow of Jonathan’s laptop in the dark space. You can just creep through the shadows and get what you need. Still, you feel intrusive.

“We miss you, hon,” a British woman chimes from the speaker as Jonathan’s silhouette hunches across from the coffee table, “so dark. Where are you, dearie?”

He hushes her, “it’s late here–”

“And it’s early here.”

“Mum,” he says softly. The couch creaks and reaches over to turn on the lamp, “why are you calling so earl–”

He stops short and looks at you, caught in the glow of the unexpected light. You give a small wave and smile awkwardly. The robe hangs open across his chest and he has a throw blanket over his lap.

“Hi,” you utter dumbly.

“Someone there? Did we interrupt?”

“I’m just grabbing my phone,” you murmur, “sorry.”

“Plugged it in for you,” he points to the corner table.

“S-sorry,” you apologise again and grab your cell, pulling it free of the cord, “I didn’t realise–

“Quite alright,” he assures you.

“I’ll just go…” you trail off as you turn back and flit back into the hall. Oops.

You stop at the bathroom door as the speaker of his laptop echoes behind you, “is that her?” The woman asks.

“Finally found a wife, boy?” A more distant timbre asks, obviously further from the microphone.

“Father,” Jonathan hisses.

“She sounds very nice,” the woman, his mother, proclaims, “she must be the one you mentioned–”

You spin into the bathroom and close the door. It isn’t right to listen. His personal life has nothing to do with you, regardless if you dragged him into your own. You need to cling to the few boundaries still left between you. You don’t need a spiteful boss on top of a deranged neighbour.

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

ao3 | wattpad

word count: 5.5k

Chapter 22: Out of Focus

Joel

Last week I thought my favorite color was blue. At the wedding, I thought my favorite color was black. Tonight, I’m certain my favorite color is maroon.

Especially when her cheeks matched her dress when I touched her. It had felt wrong not to do so in the moment, despite the fact that realistically, I should only touch Gwen if I’m coaching or protecting her. It wasn’t even a conscious choice…and a hand on the back could still be professional. I think.

Regardless of the implications, I felt like she needed it. Even now, the way she’s dragging her feet through the hallway towards her door. I want to take her face between my hands and tell her just to talk to me, to tell me that she’s scared. That she doesn't want to be alone. But just like when we stayed in her father’s house, I know she won’t.

She pauses at her door, glancing behind me at Jace and Carlos. I instructed them not to go into their room until Gwen was safely tucked away in hers, but her hand hesitates on the handle.

“We’re all set, guys.” I say to them, keeping my eyes on her. “Have a good night.”

As they shuffle away, Gwen gives me probably the shyest smile a woman like her can produce.

“I just wanted to say thank you, for the Daniel thing. I was not in the mood for that tonight.”

“I don’t blame you.” I expect her to open the door now, but she still waits until Jace and Carlos’ door clicks into place.

“I don’t know if this is—standard, or whatever, but do you think you could come inside? Just for a minute. Double check the place or something?”

I try not to be obvious in my relief that she finally asked. “Absolutely.”

Once inside, Gwen kicks off her shoes and makes her way over the modest kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? A whiskey you won’t drink?”

I close the door behind us, arming the security system after. “Water, please.”

Unsure of what to do, I look in the closet and check out the bathroom, knowing I won’t find anything of importance. If it will make her feel better though, I’d do it all night.

Gwen sets the glass on the table, taking a seat. I follow suit, taking a long swig. “Thank you.”

“You really put me out, pouring you a glass of tap water.”

I smirk. “My apologies, ma’am.”

Her cheeks deepen again, and I have to start repeating this is a job this is a job this is a job.

“Have you always been sober?” She asks, her eyes curious.

“I’m not sober. I love whiskey, actually. But I don’t drink while I’m on the job.”

“Are you…on the job even now?”

Saying that as if she didn’t just ask me to secure the apartment. “Twenty-four-seven, in fact.”

“That would be exhausting.”

“You get used to it. And it’s worthwhile work.”

“Not if it gives you nightmares,” she mumbles before her eyes grow wide, like she’s surprised it came out of her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

It’s not often I’m embarrassed, less often that I admit it. But even last time we discussed it, neither of us flat out said what it was. The bluntness of it now feels heavy, and almost shameful.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry,” I have to clear the unease out of my throat, “Sorry that you had to hear that.”

Gwen doesn’t look embarrassed. She looks equal parts soft and determined, refusing to look away. “That’s not something you have to apologize for.”

I hold her gaze for another minute before replying.

“I didn’t think you would have heard anything. When you did, I thought you would give me more shit for it.”

She smiles softly. “Not for something like that.”

“I appreciate that you didn’t,” my voice grows more hoarse, “I am surprised that you didn’t ask about it though.”

“I was curious, don’t get me wrong. But it didn’t seem like the time. Especially since maybe you don’t trust me yet.”

Now I’m confused, giving her a quizzical smile.

“The other night, when you told me I didn’t have to trust you yet. Maybe you should ask me something. Preferably something you can’t find in a file from whatever creepy computer people you have working for you back in Texas.”

“My agency is based in Boston, actually.”

“Same thing, still creepy. Ask away.”

I eye her, one of her eyebrows raised, elbows bent on the table, leaning forward like a cat watching its prey. Wanting to play a game.

“Alright,” I rest one of my arms on the back of the chair next to me. “Why do you hate slow dancing?”

“What?” She laughs, “I never said that.”

“Yeah, you did. Gave me a decently long explanation for it when we were at the wedding.”

Her face pales a little. “Right…”

I watch her take a few breaths, trying not to get lost on how perfectly that dress suits her. “Still waiting.”

Gwen lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. “I just never understood it. I think it’s boring. I love to dance when it's fast paced but it’s just so drawn out, and you have to face the person the entire time and keep your hands in the right place. It’s too…I don’t know it’s too…”

“Intimate?” My question is hushed, because I know a word like that is far too fragile to be passed between us.

“Yes,” she catches my eye before looking down at her hands, twirling a ring on her finger, “And a lot of the time, you have to do it with people who you don’t even like, to make it worse. And they’re playing music you would normally never listen to.”

I let the air thicken amongst us before I reply. “I love slow dancing.”

Her eyes snap up to meet mine. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. Always have. Granted, I was never invited to multiple galas a year that I was mandated to attend.”

“Yeah right,” she huffs, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Call it competitive, avoidant of reality, or just plain stupid, but I push back my chair, and offer her my hand. “Alright then.”

The look of shock and intrigue on her face gives me way more pleasure than it should. In a rare moment for Gwen, she doesn't say anything as she grabs my hand and lets me walk her a few steps into the kitchen area. I take out my phone, thinking only for a moment before I press play and set it on the counter.

The quiet sound of a western waltz drifts into the room, and I guide the hand of hers to rest on my shoulder. “I’m assuming you’re familiar with this part.”

“Unfortunately so,” she tries to sound aloof, but I’m not fooled. She’s a little too breathless to be as irritated as she’d like to seem.

I take her other palm in mine before placing my free hand on her lower back, pushing us close together. It’s not a simple task to keep our eyes on each other with the height difference, but Gwen keeps looking up at me anyway, and I keep on looking down at her.

I move us slowly, devoid of complicated or elegant steps. All I’m focused on is how good it feels to hold her so tightly, for her eyes to be looking at me with something just short of affection. When it seems like she isn’t completely hating this, I pull her out and away, forcing her to spin so that her back is now against me. She giggles, that same one that always plots to bring me to my knees. And when she leans her head back to rest on my chest, craning to look at me again, I know I’m in trouble.

“No one ever pulled a move like that at a gala.”

My chest fills with pride. “You said you didn’t like that you have to face the person the whole time.”

“I said that about the people I don’t like…” she whispers, her big blue eyes succeed in pulling me under. I accept the fact that I’m most likely going to hell as I lean down to whisper in her ear.

“I figured I was included in that.” I feel a shiver run down her spine as she closes her eyes. My arms wrap around her tighter, just to confirm that despite total disbelief, this woman was enjoying herself. With me.

“Not all the time,” she breathes.

“Not right now?” I ask against the shell of her ear.

“No…Not right now.” I let her lean back into me until I’m essentially supporting all of her body weight. When I’m afraid her proximity to me might become…obviously arousing to us both, I spin her again, gently, until we’re face to face. Except now, Gwen rests her head against my chest.

“You smell so nice,” she murmurs, her eyes still closed. It was the sort of thing I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to be hearing. Without a thought, I drift my hand up from the small of her back, to the back of her neck, stroking it up to her earlobe. This earns me another shiver, and also requires me to shift my hips away from her.

“Nice enough to change your mind?”

Feeling her laugh reverberate off my chest had to be the only thing better than hearing it. “I’m not known to change my mind.”

“Not yet.”

“It could just be better barefoot.”

I now trail my hand down her neck, caressing as much exposed skin as I can. “It could be a better partner.”

She sighs with the feel of my touch. “Could—could be.”

The song ends, and though our swaying slows down, it doesn’t stop. I see Gwen’s eyes open, and she peeks up at me cautiously.

“I hope this doesn't count…you know, as me touching you again without your permission.”

Only in this moment, for a split second, have I ever regretted my career choice. I don’t want her to feel like she has to tip-toe around me, and even though we both know it’s not professional, I can’t find it in me to care when she’s looking up at me like that.

“No,” my voice is all gravel, “It’s just dancing.”

She nods, either unconvinced, or possibly tired. Maybe even…relaxed? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gwen relaxed.

Both our arms are wrapped around each other now, and I’m tracing circles on her back.

“So, what’s the verdict?” I ask after some time.

“Hmm?” Her eyes are closed again, her cheek pressed firmly against me.

“Do you still think slow dancing is borin—”

“Can you stay here tonight, please?” she asks so quietly that I have to look down to confirm that she is actually looking back up at me, waiting for a response. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable…But, I worry about—”

“Yes. Whatever you need.”

Her smile banishes all the worry from her face, and I squeeze her tighter.

I have a feeling we would have stayed here all night if my phone didn’t ring. It startles us both, and it takes everything in me not to keep one hand wrapped around her waist as I grab it off the counter.

Angus.

I pause. Once I’m on a job, there usually isn’t too much contact. But recently, I had sent in the information about Gwen’s building to see if there was anything Angus and his team could find. There had to be a reason her stalker was able to gain access to the basement and cut the system’s hardwiring. And the power, for that matter. There was nothing I wanted more than to catch the asshole that was causing her so much unrest. Almost nothing. Right now, I would rather keep holding her. Trying to inch back a shred of professionalism into the evening, I pick up.

“Hey, Angus.”

“Joel. I have the report you were looking for. Is now a good time?”

It wasn’t. Not really. And I don’t exactly want Gwen to overhear anything firsthand. I would rather choose how to deliver it to her, but none of those reasons would have been acceptable with any of my other clients.

“Sure, now’s fine.”

Luckily, when Gwen hears this, she mouths, “I’m going to go change,” and scurries off toward the bathroom.

“So, the building is owned by a completely legitimate LLC. They own several other buildings all throughout New York, and purchased this one about six years ago. No past indiscretions besides a fire a couple of decades ago at another location. No foul play was suspected.”

“An LLC? Why not make it a REIT?”

“Probably so they don’t have to pay federal income tax. They’re cheaper to start.”

“What’s the name of the company?”

“Laurier.”

“Alright,” I run a hand down my face, “Thanks, Angus.”

“I had hoped we’d find more information but…”

“I know, me too. Still appreciated.”

He hangs up without another word. I start pacing toward the bed and back to the dining table. Secretly, I had hoped that the building was recently purchased by someone who had been found to stalk Gwen’s account. I knew that would be too easy, but I still hoped I could end it for her, and fast. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I sit on the edge of the bed with my face in my hands. I only glance up when I hear the bathroom door crack open.

Gwen’s face is pink, and her hair has come down, looking the slightest bit disheveled.

“I promise that this isn’t a come-on, but I am legitimately stuck in my dress.”

After this last conversation with Angus, I simply stare at her to the point where she feels the need to elaborate.

“I can go get Jace or Carlos if you’re not comfortable unzipping it.”

Well, fuck that idea.

I jump up a little too quickly. “Not a problem.”

“Thank you,” she turns around, holding the front part of her dress up with her hands.

Now that her hair is down, I have to place my fingers on the side of her neck, pulling her soft waves back a bit. “May I?” I ask.

“Mhmm,” she murmurs, tipping her head to the side to assist me. I brush her hair over her shoulder, lingering slightly to soak in the last few moments where it’s appropriate for me to be this close to her.

I unzip the dress slowly, since it goes far past the bottom of her spine. I don’t want to undo it all the way. Suddenly, she shudders a little, letting out a soft laugh.

“Sorry,” she sounds…heady. “Your breath just tickled a bit.” She clears her throat, attempting to take a step forward. I know with her little disclaimer, she’s doing so for my benefit. So for both of ours, I pull her back to me by the hold I have on her dress.

“I’m not done,” I say in a low, careful voice. This elicits another shudder from her as I finish undoing the garment. And against everything I’ve ever done, everything I’ve ever tried to uphold, I let my finger trace up her bare back, all the way up until the clasp of her black lace bra.

Even at that subtle motion, Gwen leans back to me, letting out a soft sigh.

“Would you like me to undo this as well, ma’am?” I say in the most casual tone I can muster, purposefully laying on the accent a little thicker than normal.

Gwen nods, clutching tighter to the front of the dress.

I click my tongue. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” Gwen hisses, a mix of irritation and arousal.

There’s my girl.

I chuckle darkly, unclasping the bra, and gently massaging the area of her back where it had been resting. Maybe this fell under the category of unprofessional touches, but the entire city going up in flames couldn’t keep me from doing something that clearly made her feel so good. Her eyes were pinched shut, and with every stroke of my hand, she leaned further into me.

Then, so softly, as if it were a thought escaped, or an unexplained draft in the air, I hear her breathe out, “Joel.”

I freeze.

Lately, our boundaries were made of chalk. Dark clouds kept rolling in, threatening to pour out the rain and wash away the last of our efforts. Now, with that singular word, she might as well have summoned a monsoon.

She’s gone rigid as well, her breathing ragged with the realization of what she said.

“I—I’m sorry—”

“Say it again.” I damn near growl, wrapping my hand around her waist, turning her to face me.

Her eyelids are heavy, and it takes her more than a few moments to look up at me and whisper.

“Joel.”

My eyes drop down to her lips, extra pretty when they’re parted like that. I keep staring at them as I walk us backwards until Gwen’s back hits the wall next to the bathroom door. I place my arms above her head, caging her in. A strong wave of possession runs through me as her hold on her dress loosens. I’m angry at a line of men I will never meet. Because somewhere, there are other pairs of eyes that have seen her like this. Did they truly savor it? Did they know what a treasure it was to watch her, or did they simply snatch any piece of her they could and run? I want to keep her here, and safe, forever.

Gwen’s gaze grows more exasperated. “Well? Are you just going to stare at me?”

I bend down to place my lips against her ear. “I might.”

She whines. A sound I quickly realize does far greater damage to me than her laughter.

“What would you prefer I do?”

“You always want to speak in these fucking riddles.” She glares up at me, and I can’t help smiling at her. “You know what I want.”

“”Fraid not.”

Unexpectedly, Gwen’s back arches off the wall until we’re mere inches apart. She lightly cocks a brow, smirking. “I want you to touch me, Joel.”

Holy mother of god.

Something strikes a chord in me, and I pull back just a bit. “You know we can’t. It’s…exploitative. I’m here to protect you.”

“Oh, please. I can make my own decisions, and you’re still protecting me.”

“It could be transference.” God, her hair smells incredible.

“Seriously? I couldn’t stand it when you moved in.”

“Okay then, Stockholm syndrome.”

She scoffs. “I’m free to go wherever I want. You’re the one forced to follow me.” She lets one of her hands drop from the front of her dress, grabbing my belt loop and pulling me in. It’s a miracle I’m still breathing. “Call it whatever you want, but you’re here as my bodyguard. So…” her eyes gauge mine one last time, looking for any signs of apprehension. “Guard it.”

With that, she drops the front of her dress, letting both it and her bra pool around her ankles. I spoke too soon, and my breath hitches in my throat, my mouth falling agape as I take in every exquisite inch of her.

“Fucking hell,” I groan, not even meaning to have said it. Not even my favorite of her dresses could have done this picture justice. Her breathing is coming in heavy, and my eyes go glassy as I take in the sight of her hardening pink nipples. I lean even closer to her, my arms still braced on the wall, desperate to feel the warmth of her bare chest against mine. I’m past the point of caring that she can see, or possibly feel, my nearly painful erection. The only sound in the room is our breath as our lips get closer and closer to each other.

“Do you…” I take a moment to run my nose up her neck, across her jawline, “Have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

This brings on another, softer whine.

“I wasn’t sure you even liked women,” she teases.

I chuckle against her cheek, making both of us shiver. “You thought about it?”

Even though she’s almost entirely naked in front of me, Gwen shrugs. “Maybe in passing.”

“Hmm. I see,” I lift one of my arms off the wall, trailing a finger across her collarbone. “So you never wondered how this might feel?” I drag my finger down her chest, past the shallow in between her breasts, tracing a few circles on her stomach before drawing a line right above the last bit of lace that covers her.

She’s panting now, from just one finger. My mind goes wild with the noises I might be able to hear if I give her more.

“Maybe,” she murmurs, her eyes trained on my lips, “Maybe once or twice.” My cock twitches at the idea that she ever thought about my hands on her skin. Our foreheads are resting against each other now, our lips dangerously close. She pulls me closer by my belt loop again, and moans when my erection bumps against her.

“Why won’t you kiss me?” She whispers.

I place my hand on the side of her face, demanding she look me in the eye before I respond. “If I kiss you…there’s no coming back for me. I don’t want to be your distraction. I don’t want to take advantage of our situation. I want you to want this.”

She blinks, processing the magnitude of my words. It was the closest to a confession I had ever had with her, and all of it was true. If I kiss her the way I want, touch her the way I want…I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else. I could become too distracted, too enmeshed.

But maybe…I could give her just a piece. A few moments of pleasure to counteract the anxiety of these past few weeks.

“If you would touch me,” her voice is sultry and low, “then you would know how badly I want this.”

Professionalism was now a word unbeknownst to me.

I lean back from the wall, and Gwen pouts, until she sees me rolling up the sleeves of my white button down. I take my time, reveling in the way she squirms, her back still against the wall.

My voice is raspy as I hold the side of her face, making sure she listens to every word. “We’re going to do this once. I want you to know that this is different for me. I don’t do this with the people I’m protecting.” Gwen takes a sharp breath, and there is some possible relief on her face. “But you’ve been so good lately…I feel like that should be rewarded.”

“Oh, thank god.” Gwen whines, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me in. I resist, grabbing her hands and pinning them above her head.

“I’m afraid you’re going to listen to me now, Miss Russell. For once.”

Gwen’s eyes flare, agitated and excited and needy.

I wrap my right hand around both of her wrists, keeping them high above her. Her back arches again off the wall, begging for contact. I take my time trailing my free hand down her stomach again before going back up and cupping her breasts. Gwen sighs, tossing her head back slightly, her eyes pinched shut. I lick my thumb and forefinger before pinching her hard nipple between them, rolling it around and squeezing until she’s panting once again. It would be a wasted effort to try and fight the possession that fills me now. Hovering over her, knowing she’s safe, knowing that I’m the one making her bite down on her lip and press her thighs together…I never want anyone else to see her this way. And I want to make sure she remembers who she’s with. That she doesn’t run from the connection the way she always has.

“Open your eyes.” I demand in a harsh whisper.

“Mmm,” Gwen moans lightly, denying my request. I smack her breast lightly before putting my mouth where my finger had been, sucking ruthlessly.

“Oh my god, yes.” She cries, pushing back against my hand holding her to the wall.

As quickly as I had started, I pull back completely, cutting all contact except for where my hand binds her.

“What…?” she breathes, finally straightening her head and opening her eyes to me.

“Open your eyes,” I repeat. “You break contact,” I grab her breast again, her mouth falling open, “I break contact,” I pull away my hand, making her eyebrows knit together in frustration. She narrows her eyes at me, but still her breathing only quickens.

With my forehead practically resting against hers, I bring my hand between her thighs and cup her fully over the lace.

“Ah,” she cries again, throwing her head back.

I smirk. “Eyes on me.”

It takes her a moment, but I get a sick satisfaction over how she finally obeys. She glares at me, but I have her slack-jawed the next moment when I start to lightly move my hand in circles. Even with her lips parted, she still manages to look angry.

“You can be pissed all you want, darlin’. Your legs are still shaking.”

This makes her whine, because she knows I’m right. She’s alternating between coming up on her tiptoes and letting her feet rest back on the ground, trying to increase the friction. Every time she does it, her knees give her away.

“Why don’t you do something about it, then?” Definitely pissed. And breathless.

“Ask nicely.” I murmur against her ear.

I circle the fabric a little harder, and after several huffs, she gives in.

“Please. Dammit, please Joel.”

I chuckle, moving closer to her so that her bare chest is pressed to my shirt. I want to take it off, to feel her on top of me, underneath me, shaking against me as I take her from the back, gripping the wall for support. But not tonight. Tonight was only about this beautiful, stubborn woman.

I dip my hand into the fabric, and we both gasp at the contact.

“So wet,” I rasp out, forgetting where I am for a moment. “Perfect…”

“It’s your fault,” Gwen whimpers, trying her best to grind down on my hand. This snaps me back into the present moment, remembering I’m here to please her, not simply to admire the fact that she’s this ready for me. I apply more pressure, continuing the same circles, only now, it’s directly on her clit.

Gwen strains against my hand again, her eyes fluttering closed.

I stop.

Gwen almost wails. “Please…don’t stop.”

“Look at me.”

This time, she listens right away. Her gaze might be hooded, but it’s focused on me. I resume my gentle strokes, my cock growing more and more painful every time Gwen makes one of her sweet little noises.

“More,” she whispers, her cheeks growing desperately flushed as she says it. “I need more.”

“Yeah? What do you say?”

She scowls at me, but her voice is earnest “Please.”

“Atta girl,” my mouth turns up at the corner as I slide a finger inside her, curling it as she curses through her teeth, bouncing up on her tiptoes again. And god, is she tight. Clenching around it almost immediately, greedy little thing.

I pump my finger in and out of her a few times before adding another, making Gwen struggle to keep eye contact. I can tell she wants to avoid the intimacy of it, but I can also tell she’s enjoying it. She’s become so wet in the past minute alone that her arousal is dripping down to her thighs. And god, what I wouldn’t give to lick it off.

I press the heel of my hand against her, starting the circles again when I know she wants to be filled. She whines, confirming my suspicion.

“This is for all the times you forced me to look away,” I grunt out, watching her eyes grow wide at my words, hearing how impossibly wet they make her. “Every time you wore one of those skimpy little outfits, or danced with a man who didn’t deserve you, or started to change in front of me. Anything that you knew would force me to take my eyes off of you.”

She whimpers something incoherent, her eyes fluttering but still straining enough to hold my gaze.

“Now you’re going to look at me. Focus right here, baby. Look into my eyes as I get you off.” That’s when I give her what she wants again, sliding two fingers inside, curling until she’s shaking so hard I have to let go of her wrists. Immediately, she wraps them around my neck to steady herself. Her eyes don’t leave mine, even as her mouth hangs open, her eyebrows are drawn down, and she’s moaning again and again, so loud that the thought of Jace or Carlos hearing her crosses my mind, but I banish it quickly. It’s too sweet a sound for anything to spoil it.

“Jo–el,” Gwen cries as I pump my fingers in and out of her. She’s close, getting closer every time she clenches around me.

Her whole body is quivering, and I wrap my now free hand around her waist to keep her steady. The contact of my hand grasping her bare hip makes her chuck her head back. And as much as that fuels my ego, and as fucking amazing and soft her skin feels, I still cease my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” she gasps, looking back up as she grabs the hair on the back of my neck, forcing me to look at her. “I’m watching, you bastard,” she surprises me by lifting up her left leg and hooking it around my waist. She starts to grind down on her own, soft whimpers escaping her lips. Her eyes are frustrated and enamored, boring into my soul. “I’m not looking away,” she manages before adding what could only be described as a prayer. “Please.”

That did me in. I’m not sure if it’s taking pity on her, or on myself. I need to make her come. I want to give her that release, what she deserves.

I start again at a merciless pace. Each time making sure to hit that spot of hers that makes her mewl. Her arms clutch tighter to me, and I groan when she pulls on my hair again. I press my forehead against hers, soaking in as many of her moans and heady breaths as I can. I can’t remember the last time anything felt this intimate, if it ever had. But I do not break eye contact with her, nor she with me. Her eyes are wild, looking at me, present, and still somewhere else. Somewhere in ecstasy, somewhere in the clouds.

With her leg pulling me in even closer, she grinds back in tune with my rhythm.

“Yes, yes, god, y-yes.” She’s not even saying it to me, but it’s music to my ears.

“Come on, baby. Give it to me.” I pull her even closer to me so that her chest is flush with mine, and I can feel my hand working her against my thigh. “Show me how pretty you look when you come.”

Gwen rasps several harsh breaths before I feel her body convulse around me. She moans my name as she comes, looking at me with wonder, and I’m impressed that I don’t finish myself just at the sound. The look she’s giving me would be enough to bring me to my knees if I weren’t so focused on keeping her upright.

I continue to work her, softer now, as she slowly comes down from her high. She shudders on my hand, harder when I tell her how well she’s doing. Eventually, I pull my fingers out of her and rub a few soothing circles around her clit once more.

“Mmmm,” Gwen sighs, biting down on her lip, her eyes squinting. After another minute, I grip her hip a little tighter, pulling my hand out of her now-soaked panties. Gwen’s satiated smile twists into one of astonishment as she watches me bring my fingers to my mouth and suck every last bit of her off of them.

It was a bad idea, all of it.

I should have thought for one second longer before indulging myself with the taste of her.

I said that we would do this once, just so I could give her a little bit of the relief that she deserves to feel. But now, knowing just how smart-mouthed she was even as she was turned on, knowing how her lip shook when she moaned, how soft her skin was, and just how fucking sweet she tastes…

I want more. Need more.

I know now that Gwen is a vice, and I have no hope for repentance.

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“Should you be reading that in public?” It’s a testament to the last few years of your life that you didn’t jump when a voice whispered in your ear. 

“Why are you here?” The park is closed at night, well it’s supposed to be. 

How did he know you were here?

Max sidled next to you on the bench, his teeth flashing in the light from your tablet. “You’re very predictable. You get off work, go home, shower, feed Hunter and Angel then take them for a walk. The only place you like to go is here, anyway.” 

“That is creepier than I thought it would be. You could have said you tracked my location or something.” 

The vampire shrugged, “Answer my question, Baby.” 

You stared down at the tablet, tapping your fingers against the side. The low light of the screen reflected off your glasses. You could see them stretch out of the corner of your eye. Instead of answering you lock the tablet, stick your tongue out at him, and stand up. 

“Hunter! Angel! Let go.” Max moved behind the bench when two barks came from the dark. He backs up more when they move into the light, Hunter bounding at full speed while Angel lingers behind him. 

Hunter stops at your legs, looking up once, tongue lolling out before snapping his stare to Max and showing his teeth. When Angel joins in, he doesn’t sneer just rests his snout along your leg. 

“Monsters.” 

Hunter growls. 

“Takes one to know one.” Kneeling to clip their leashes on makes your knee twinge, toppling you to the side. Angel’s weight keeps you up. Four years ago you could halfway do floor squats. 

Now your knee turns to Rice Krispies when you wake up.

You blame Max. 

He reaches out to help you up, Angel and Hunter snarling until you grab his hand and let him pull you up. The blood rush to your leg has you stumbling before finding your footing. 

When the boys are walking ahead of you, Angel looks back now and again to watch Max. He’s never liked the Vampire and simply accepts he’s around — as long as he doesn’t touch him.

Could you train Max?

 Ask him to do something and when he does; reward him. Carry around little hard candies with blood inside or raw meat bites or whatever. If you’re lucky, he’d start listening to you. It might work. There is always hope. 

“I was bored.” 

You take a deep breath, holding it in your lungs until they burn and you let it out, “Again. What do you want?” 

Max touches your arm, moving closer to you and sliding his arm over your shoulders. It confuses you; that he’s warm.

“Okay, I was hoping you could do something for me.” There it is. 

“Max-” 

“You can bring the hounds. They asked me to check out a new business setup. They’ve been selling for a good few years, but their profits won’t come up even. They recommended me, really.”

 He sways his head and flips his hand back and forth. “Give them a push.” 

“With a bonus!” He flashes a grin, fangs down. Your breath hitches, catching in your throat until Max turns his head.

He keeps saying, “It’ll be a three-week trip and I need someone to assist me. I’ve already cleared the beasts’ approval and procured the tickets. Don’t worry I’ve let Allen and Dwight know you’ll be with me and I’ve requested a tailor so we can fit you for meetings. You’re designated as my daytime confidant.” 

There’s a moment of silence. 

“Oh, and a new strap-on that I think you’ll find to your liking.”

 He’s using his professional voice. The voice that wins CEOs over and can convince anyone to do anything. You’ve heard that voice, the tone, being used to sweet-talk middle-aged men into buying pills for hair loss; swaying desperate suburban moms to buy a ‘brand new’ treadmill. 

“Max.” it comes out calmer than you expected. 

“Yes?” 

“When you said you wanted to ask me something you meant you’re going to tell me I’m booked for a trip, I never agreed to. A work trip I am not even qualified to be on? I’m not even in the same department, Max. Why? Why!? Jeremy is who you should have taken you fucking dead asshole.” Your anger boils. “I can’t go with you. I just can’t! You do this every single time. I have a life too, you know? I have friends to see, places to go, and things to do. I have the boys! Traveling gives them anxiety, for fuck’s sake.” 

Max raised a brow and then leaned to look at the dogs. They were both sitting, watching the two of you. 

“Hellhound One and Two?” 

Your nose twitches. “Yes. Hunter and Angel. My dogs.”

“I think they’ll be fine. I got us first class and you have those amazing traveling cages, which means they travel, Sweetheart. Also not to be this guy, but when is the last time you’ve done anything with anyone that’s not me or Kujo squared?” 

His brow twitches, mouth pressing into a smirk. The slow curl of heat in your stomach angers you more. 

“Also, you are qualified. You’re A head in marketing. We need to know how to turn a profit and better marketing is the place to start.”

You rolled your eyes. “Dwight is the head of marketing you dumbass. I’m under him.” 

“Which is why I told him I’ll be taking you. No excuse will keep you from getting on that plane. I would hate to not use the dildo I got for us. It’s your favorite color and trust me, it fits.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Yeah, you do.” 

You ignore him the rest of the way to your apartment, keeping his arm from brushing yours and ignoring remarks he made.

 That’s something you’re surprisingly good at. 

Ignoring Max.

Now, if you could only say fucking no.

-

The boys aren’t tiny lap dogs.

Hunter’s a big beautiful Great Dane who you found digging through the trash outside. 

Max hated him.

He groaned and complained when Hunter started nipping at his feet and growling anytime he touched you. When he’d grown bigger, he started kicking Max out of the bed, resorting to the vampire either leaving or sleeping on the couch. 

Max slept on the couch. 

Baby Angel is a big and fluffy Leonberger.

 He found his way into your life by chasing Hunter down the street as a puppy. You’d been walking him, giving him training commands when a mid-sized puppy came at them. He’d yipped at you, little bits that squeaked. He was skinny, shaking where he stood. When Hunter barked, the little guy dropped his head. Like that, you were in love. 

Max hated him even more

Not that you blame him.

He had you pinned against the wall, his tongue in your ear and fingers sliding in, and out, curling at them. Right. Angle. When Angel woke up, nudging through the door to see the vampire. 

You’re sure it was when he bit your neck, making you cry out and baby Angel took offense. 

He’d learned fast not to fuck with him. 

The point, you chastised yourself, is that traveling with two large dogs isn’t easy.  

Two big dogs that believe their puppies still and don’t understand they can’t run into a hotel room and knock everything over. 

When the lamp crashed into the wall, knocking papers off the side table and tipping over chairs, Max closed himself in the bathroom. 

“I told you! We needed to take them for a walk before we did anything else. They flew for four hours. They need to roam.” 

“Then roam!” He shouts back. 

You snort. “You’re the one who forced me to come.” 

They pulled at their leads until you got them into the hallway — struggling to wrangle them down the stairs. The hotel Max booked is nicer than you expected, which you should have expected, actually. 

He got the two of you a suite, large enough to fit the cages and to pace around when you’re taking a phone call he should handle. Seeing a small park a few blocks away was impressive. 

You’ll give him that. 

Damn bastard put in all the effort to get you to come—the asshole. 

Fuck. 

You want to kiss him, knock your teeth together until he grabs your hips and pulls you in. He’s strong, with a steady, hard body to hold you. If you stumble, He’ll catch you.

You find the park easily enough. A chest-height fence wraps around to make a large square around a patch of trees. The gate swings open, knocking into a pole.

Oh.

You remembered to grab the little baggies as you let the boys loose. 

There are traits about Max that are okay.

He was funny, for starters. Sometimes his jokes go over the edge and you can’t tell if he’s being serious or not, but damn he makes people laugh. His smile was addicting, wide, curling his cheeks, and an actual twinkle in his eye.

Oddly enough, he’s there. 

If you need something, call Max and he’ll get it. When someone broke into your last apartment, he’d gotten there quicker than the police. When they found him dead on your doorstep, Max handled everything. 

He’s a good guy under all the bullshit. 

Of course, he carries a travelogue of terrible traits. He’s abrasive and inappropriate. He doesn’t understand that just because he can do it doesn’t mean he SHOULD do it. 

Max has a nasty habit of using the key you gave him for emergencies to walk into your apartment at any time of the night. 

You can’t do anything without him feeling left out. 

Finding out he’s a vampire was a fucking night. 

A long one. 

You should have found another job after that night. 

That poor delivery man. The man didn’t leave after his assistant signed. Instead, he wanted to hand deliver it himself. That one mistake killed him and shed light that you need several rounds of therapy.

He’d still be alive and you would have never known what it’s like to watch a man die if he’d just left.

Also, maybe you need to address that Max was holding the man by his neck, eyes flashing up to look at you before dropping the body to the ground. The agonal breathing made you feel sick. You kept from falling to your knees to help. 

Max kept looking at you. 

His eyes were dark. Teeth sharp. Blood smeared around his mouth, dripping to his throat. 

“This is why I smoke after work.” You wave at him, little wiggles of your fingers, and Max’s face transformed. 

With a man dying beside you, he held his hand out, “Wanna share?” 

You blame corporate America on that one. Working at a desk, taping away on a computer to push numbers you don’t care about, and making items that don’t matter seem less useless.

A scream makes your head snap to the left. Streetlights stretch over the empty road. Two large hotels nestle along the same street as yours, small sections of trees separating them. 

Tucked into the farthest corner is the dog park. 

Damn near pitch black. 

Another scream. 

Hunter almost knocks you over when he comes running, your knee catching the bench. Pain blossomed from the impact, a lightning bolt right through your kneecap. 

“Hey boy " Angel comes to your other side, alert, back tense. 

You attach their leads, tugging at their harnesses. “Let’s get back to the hotel.” One pull and they walk with you, Angel stuck to your side while Hunter walks a little ahead. Both of them with their bodies tensed, ready for anything. Icy shivers race down your spine. 

Was that fucking Max? 

It would be worse if it’s not Max.

It doesn’t matter. 

You’re in an unfamiliar place, but you have your boys and when you reach the hotel, you have an annoying vampire there. 

Another scream, sounding further away. Your shoulders loosen, steps speeding up. 

Okay, see, it is nothing for you to handle.

Max was at the door when you reached the hotel, holding two dog treats for you and looking over your shoulder. He’s in casual clothes, lounge pants, and a loose shirt. It’s the opposite of the suits you see him in every night. 

You smile. 

“I heard a scream. Didn’t hear the calls of hell, so I figured it wasn’t you.” He holds the door open. 

“You wonder why they don’t like you.” 

Max snorts, “Animals don’t like the undead.” 

“No, Max, animals don’t like you.” You stood off to the side to let him unlock the door. The boys waited in the middle of the room. 

“Hunter.” You held the treat up, “Treat.” He jumps for it, snatching it from your hand and swallowing it whole. 

You lift the other one, “Angel.” His back end lifts off the ground, dropping back down and up. “Treat.” He bounds to you, catching the treat when you throw it 

“I don’t care what you say.” Max touches your side, dancing along the hem of your shirt and resting his chin on your shoulder. “Those two are demon breeds.” 

“Send them to another room, Sweetheart. I want to do something they shouldn’t watch.” 

He’s kissing you before you can retort. He trails a line up to your jaw, gliding his hand up your body to lift your chin. Max pouts, pushing his lips out.

Your eyes drop to them, then back up to his. A finger taps against your lips, and you open them, closing your eyes when they’re pressed against your tongue. 

You sway when he drops his fingers, dragging them down your chin and wiping them off using your shirt.

“Hunter. Angel,” They look up at you, “Bedtime.” They leave the room, walking to the attached bedroom. 

Max huffs, then rips them off. 

Max spins you, walking you backward until you’re dropped into a chair.

It sinks, sucking you in.

He smiles, sharp fangs dipping into his lip. He lowers to his knees, reaching for your shorts and tugging at them. You lift your hips, helping him push them down your thighs, the under getting twisted. 

“Dude!” 

“You have plenty. Come here” The chair goes with you when he grabs under your knees and yanks. He stops it, using his elbow to knock your leg and help it over his shoulder. 

Max stops and rolls his eyes up to look at you. His nose brushes your pubic hair, mouth open, exhaling dry air. It warms you, burns you up, the heat making you throb. 

“Max.” It’s not a whine. 

“Say it, again, Baby.” 

“Max.” Okay, you whined then. 

His tongue licks you open, flicking against your clit. You shimmy, wiggle to pull away but he keeps you still. One hand around one thigh, nails leaving crescent marks, the other grabbing your ass, holding you slick against his mouth. 

His tongue prodding makes you gasp and jerk, the pain in your leg sparking fire up your spine. Your thighs tingle, tightening when he licks further down, along the crack of your ass, and backup. He nips at your clit, using his teeth to tug it; feeling sharp points choke out a high-pitched noise. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He lets go of your ass, shifting to give room for his fingers to slide into you. A swift slide, two fingers spreading apart. He licks between them, delving deeper and deeper than his fingers plunge in and out. The fire burning you from the inside out stretches across your collar, and down your sternum, A high-pitched noise rings in your ears.

“Max,” You roll your hips, “Max.” He goes faster, curves his fingers, circling his tongue on your clit, letting your hips drag you over it. Faster, closer. You twist his hair between your fingers, holding him down but making him move. 

He moans, stops moving to let you fuck down onto his fingers, and slides over his tongue. It vibrates, and you feel it to your core, nails digging into his scalp and tugging. 

“Fuck. God. Yes, yes,. Fuck.” Molten lava pours over your skin, lighting every nerve on fire, your vision fuzzy. His tongue stays against you, lapping up your orgasm making you twitch and whine. 

When he stops your legs shake, trembling hard enough that Max grabs both your thighs and rubs at the muscle, “That was fucking delicious. Between Blood and your come, I can live fucking forever on fine dining.”

“Dude.” You huff out a laugh. 

Max moves, collecting you in his arms and scooping you up. 

He’s all yours.

“I wanna show you something.” Your head rolls on his shoulder. He has scratch marks on his neck and red pressure marks on his cheeks.

They’ll be gone before morning. Right now, though? He’s all marked up. 

“Is it your dick?” 

He laughs, “Clever.” 

He parts two curtains and opens a door. 

“It’s a balcony!” You’re shaky when he lets you down tremors, making it hard to stand. You grab onto the railing, gripping tight. Max steps up behind you, holding you closer, sliding his hands up your shirt, and over your chest until your shirt is over your head. 

The stars are dim, light pollution clouding the sky, but they’re still there.  

Shining.

It’s dark enough that you can’t make out the side of the building you’re facing. 

Max’s cock nudges against your ass. You moan. Leaning against the railing, Max pulls your hips out and hums as he reaches down and slides your slick around. His fingers slide inside, once, twice before back to your bottom. He uses one hand to spread your cheeks and the other to brush over your hole. 

A shiver snakes down your spine.

“Later,” He dips his thumb in. It’s small, hardly any pressure, but it’s enough to have you whining, pushing back for more. His thumb slides in further before he pulls it out. “Later, you’re going to fuck me over the couch. Now? Let me hear you.” 

You get a warning of his fingers tightening on your hips before his cock nudges inside of you. 

He pulls. 

A sharp cry follows the snap of his hips.

It echoes, a trembling thing.

It makes you think of the scream earlier. Was it from something else? Was someone else being fucked over a railing?

The burning feeling of a cock fucking impaling them? Do they also have a hand holding them up while the other crawls up their back to slide into their hair? 

“Please.” You can feel your knees giving it. Your feet slide every time he drives forward. Your stomach scrapes the railing, digging into your skin, and you can feel the rough metal scratching you.

“I could bite you,” Max says steadily. Not even faking being out of breath, “That’s what you want, right? Why you keep coming back to you?” He slows down enough to knock your feet out of the way, making you collapse in his arms. Then he speeds up, using your hips to pull you out further. Your fingers are tight around the railing, scrabbling for a surface to hold on to. 

“Say it.” 

“Max.”

He growls and pulls once more. Your fingers pull away with burning scrapes. It brings tears to your eyes, but Max lifts. Pulls you off the ground. The move makes you dizzy, his arm wrapped tight around your chest while the other holds you up. Your feet barely touch the ground when you’re being pulled again. The screen door shakes when he pushes you against it. 

“Say it.” His pace is brutal. Every snap knocks you into the glass, pressing your face closer until sweat slides you across the surface. Max tilts your hips at an angle, buries his face in your neck, and slams you back onto his cock.

“Max.” Your voice slurs. You’re not sure you can remember words. All you can think about is the pain in your stomach. How your hands throb, curling them into fists. The tight coils in your groin burn.

It’s not the same molten lava.

No. This is electric. This feels like lightning under your skin. Your nipple catches on the glass. It’s a prickling feeling, trickling down your chest to boil in your core.

“Come on, Baby,” He nips your ear, “I can fucking feel you. Say it.”

The pressure builds. 

“Fuck.” You reach back, grab his hair, and yank his head back. “Fucking bite me.” His fangs flash before they’re buried into your shoulder, Max’s hips thrusting hard enough to make the whole door shake. 

Once, he bites harder. Twice, he grabs at your chest, Three times, he lets go crying out, a loud growling thing that comes from his chest. Your breath is gone, torn from your lungs, your limbs heavy, and your mind a fuzzy mess. 

He catches you as you go pliant, holding you to him as he eases you both to the ground. 

“No matter how many times you do that,” He hums, his cock sliding free when you turn around to climb onto his lap. You kiss him, licking your blood from his mouth, tasting the copper between his teeth. Your tongue catches on a fang, “It makes me not hate you.”

“Hmm,” He nips your tongue, “That’s the point.”

[julietsbb]

Ok so its me again,,, i found the fic on twitter and proceeded to literally devour all of it. Actually just read so intensively and fixated that I almost tripped as I was walking out of the house. I couldn’t put it down.

The gradual change of intimacy between these two ENDED ME. I felt just like Phuwin — i felt like it wasn’t enough, like i went a whole day without blood when I reached the end of the thread.

The slight bouts of possessiveness from Phuwin??? Pond loving it!?! LOVING THE BITES. We don’t have his perspective and that makes it all the more compelling because you can STILL see how much he loves getting bitten. The way he rubs at his wrist and later on his neck HAS ME BY THE THROAT. Like God the man is gone, he wants those fangs in him 24/7 and I don’t blame him one bit.

And Phuwin??? The light hints of predatory satisfaction I SCREAM EVERYTIME. I just love how it all evolves so fluidly, how it contrast with the nearly (and i say nearly because we are privy to Phuwin’s thought process during it) professional acting scenes they do together. Their intimacy and care and want grows and it’s all so wonderful I could cry.

Him kissing the bites close, especially on Pond’s neck. I’m obsessed with that detail. And Pond’s casual reaction to it — like he doesn’t mention it once like its a normal thing. Like homies just kiss their homies’ necks like that all the tine.

When Pond asked if Phuwin could numb the biting spot less because he can’t feel it and he wants to feel it I was actually ascending. I was GONE. AND THE LAST SCENE????? Excuse my french but FUCK ME THAT WAS SO HOT

Pond gasping against Phuwin’s chest??? Phuwin being so giddy and satisfied with Pond’s reactions? He has no idea what he’s doing to that man. Pond is in literal bliss and Phuwin HAS NO IDEA (or maybe he does, and he loves it just as much as pond loves it.)

Pond’s softness as well. Like sweet lord he is so, so soft and so good for Phuwin and I’m in pieces. So pliant and so sweet and I can understand why Phuwin loves drinking from him.

Also I have to mention the bite scene in front of the bathroom mirror. Literally my favorite scene aside from the last scene. It was so charged with tension, so good. Phuwin just going for it, biting him while they stand, and Pond just folding, just baring his neck further and bracing against the sink and just taking it and Phuwin pushing him more against the sink— *incoherent screaming*

I love this fic. This au. I am a vampire for this fic. I want to sink my teeth in it. I want to see the boys crave each other and break apart for each other even more.

Okay I’m done with my adoring rambles. Thank you so much for writing this AU. It’s now become the reason for waking up in the morning.

kjfgsdgjsk i'm so overwhelmed by this ask i had to read it twice, once on my phone and once on my laptop and i still don't know where to start.

THANK YOU!!!!

I'm so so glad the slow build of intimacy works and feels natural for you! Like... their increased closeness increase their intimacy which increase their feelings, which in turn... you get it. they were primed for it, but it's the method/tool through which they fall in love, because they become closer in doing this together, they both grow into it and both explore themselves through it. Whilst having very little clue what they're doing and how deep they've dug themselves 😂😇

also please watch where you're going and don't fall like it's the highest compliment thank you but don't get hurt 🥺

i love phuwin's inner dynamic with his vampiric urges and how self-possessed of a person he is, usually. but also how he doesn't really have a hold on what's his vampire urges and what is... a different type of wanting. like they all appeared alongside each other so how to tell them apart? so much is happening inside phuwin that i don't blame him for not being able to separate all the ways in which he feels some type of want, for pond, and for him it's all very unexpected and out of nowhere. at least two parts of his types of want for pond is stuff he was unfamiliar with beforehand.

I do enjoy the neck kisses and i'm excited for when it feels right to escalate them 😊

i'm glad you thought that last scene was hot because that was extremely very much what i was going for lol - and the mirror bite too lol. there's very few ways in which 'bracing against the sink and just taking it' isn't going to be hot 😏

kdjjgfskjfgkasj thank you so so so much for your adoring rambles OTL OTL OTL they've really made my day 🙏

[gingerylangylang1979]

Carmy, Sydney, and Marcus... Because We Will Never Shut Up About It.

Deep thoughts while waiting for the feeling to come back to my mouth after a dental procedure, so forgive me if this is all over the place:

The dynamics between Carmy, Sydney, and Marcus have sparked endless posts due to key scenes in E7 and E8. Most takes seem to be polarized to either sympathize with Carmy or sympathize with Sydney and Marcus. I’m here to say a binary view is a reductive take. I’m approaching this from a perspective of social consciousness, personal experience, and objectivity needed when creating meaningful commentary on media. Hell, I’m even going to say it’s crucial to analyzing culture in general. Ignoring these factors is much of the reason people fail in relating to each other and moving forward together from a place of understanding and commonality. I’m probably going to piss some people off with my points but please at least read to the end and then be pissed off all you want. 

The usual opinions regarding these three tend to fall into two camps. One, Carmy failed and is a horrible boss and his white man pain does not excuse his behavior and Sydney and Marcus are at no fault and are trying to reach excellence, within a system that is not in their favor, without proper support. Two, Sydney and Marcus are totally to blame for what happened and Carmy deserved to snap and shouldn’t have apologized or accepted them back. Both opinions are usually presented simplistically, sometimes with a few more shades of nuance, but essentially this is the essence of what I’m seeing voiced. Strictly agreeing with one or the other is not accurate. 

My conclusions from take one are that Sydney and Marcus are deserving of leadership that will foster and guide their development to a higher level but Carmy in his current state is incapable of giving them what they need. That doesn’t make him a monster, it makes him human, regardless if he is a white man in pain or not. I don’t know any man or woman in his situation that wouldn’t be struggling given his lived experience. I don’t know any human who is having panic attacks at the drop of a dime, is always on the verge of tears, is still freshly grieving, dissociates, and sleep cooks who would be able to give new employees their best and maintain composure at all times. It’s just not realistic. Just because someone has authority doesn’t mean they can deliver what is needed at all times. 

Sydney and Marcus are both young Black professionals striving for more in Carmy’s kitchen under his uneasy authority. He isn’t looking at them as employees to mentor, he's looking at them as talented resources to help foster stability. That’s where he is at with them professionally. That’s all he has to give. It’s a case of bad timing, not a bad person. Sydney and Marcus were not getting the leadership they desperately needed and their lived experiences aren’t recognized but despite their lived experiences they would still be in the same scenario. Anybody coming into that kitchen would not be getting Carmy’s best. That sucks but it is what it is. 

Much has been said about how we shouldn’t dismiss the relationship between Carmy and Sydney as mentor and mentee because she has stellar credentials, is a superb cook, is a capable leader (in ways Carmy fails), has business experience, and has saved The Beef many times. She is invaluable. So I agree that we shouldn’t just reduce her to a mentee in Carmy’s kitchen. But she did seek to work with him for a reason. She does think she can learn from him. So while she may not be super subordinate to him she herself acknowledges that she has something to gain from him. She told this to Richie in E2. She said they could ALL learn a lot from him. She wants to get to the level of perfection she reveres him for. He made the best dish she’s ever had. She is seeking something from him she didn’t get in her previous experiences, even as her own boss. That does not diminish her, that’s saying basically what her words and actions have shown us. Carmy gave her a title but he never outlined the dynamic and was wishy-washy. One minute she is “everything else” the next he’s “Yes, Cheffing” her. She was confused on where she stood at any time. When he gave feedback or tried to get her on point he never explained how or why. When he snapped at her about Tina’s insubordination I think he was trying to get her to see it didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to micromanage personal dynamics and she needed to steer the ship and do what needed to get service back on track. Instead of that he just barked. Instead of telling her what was up with the risotto and offering to workshop it with her, he was just dismissive and offered a wet eyed apology. He failed to communicate properly when she urgently needed it. 

Marcus is totally new to elevated cuisine having worked at McDonald’s and his time at The Beef under Michael. Once he sees that Carmy and Sydney are coming from a whole other world he is intrigued and wants more. Moving from bread baking to becoming a real pastry chef is his vision. Another establishment may have gotten rid of him once they outsourced bread but he was kept on and given a new trajectory. He admirably catches a spark and runs with it. He starts putting in the work to immerse himself in fine patisserie knowledge and practice. Carmy does allow Marcus space to experiment. He does give Sydney authority to lead. But what he offers them is messy, undefined, and not fully realized because he isn’t capable and he is unaware of how this is being internalized by them. 

Mentally, he doesn’t have the bandwidth and he also doesn’t have a healthy model to reference. We all know it takes a lot of work for someone abused to break the cycle of abuse. All he knows is his own experience. It’s easy to say okay dude, don’t do that but it's harder to just flick a switch and be different. It’s even harder when you are in your own crisis mode and are starting from fucked. Carmy’s trauma can’t just be switched off nor can his bad habits. He tries, he fails. It’s not an excuse but it is an explanation. He is a white man in pain but he’s also human. Sydney and Marcus happen to be at the receiving end. Not fair, but also not intentional. He knows he wants to do better, better just didn’t come fast enough. 

My conclusions from take two are that Sydney and Marcus did make mistakes but they are not worthy of continued blame and Carmy should learn from his loss of control. Sydney totally deserves a pass. As mentioned, she came through for the team big time on numerous occasions. When she quit that’s when Carmy went into full meltdown. Him screaming wasn’t it, to me. Him losing it when she left was the full meltdown. He knows he needs her. She’s MVP. She was overworked, underpaid, harassed by Richie, and hazed. She could have and arguably should have quit many times. She could have gotten a job elsewhere but she chose to stay committed to The Beef until she couldn’t. She reached her breaking point and was like why am I putting up with this shit? I wouldn’t have, I would have been like see ya way before she did.  She helped Carmy transform that place, as noted by Tina and Marcus, yet received very little in return. Maybe she abandoned the team but how many times did Carmy leave her in the lurch? Carmy messed up by not taking the minute he always asks her for and touching base about the tension over the review and making sure they were aligned on all points before launching a new service model. They could have done the run through she seemed to be asking for but he was full steam ahead and ignoring the issue. 

Marcus is a slightly different story. No, I don’t think he deserves to be berated endlessly nor is he a lost cause but he does need to realize that while maybe making cakes and being on task E7 wouldn’t have fixed the shit show his repeated lack of listening to both Carmy and Sydney about staying on task was ignored. He did get space to do his thing all he was asked was to not get sidetracked. Carmy said he trusted him but he still didn’t listen. Carmy gave him a pep talk after he still didn’t listen and blew a fuse in the middle of a day that already started fucked. He still didn’t listen. The day they were starting a new service model and Carmy warned him to stay on task he still didn’t listen. When Sydney got onto him about it he still didn’t listen. That’s a lesson any employee needs to learn. I don’t care how talented and passionate you are what work place would allow you to just not listen after multiple reminders? You simply have to follow direction. Him not processing that is a huge flaw. The thing is a good, capable leader would take the time and work with him to establish a way to prioritize and create a development plan. They would see that he is going to sink if he doesn’t get that under control. It just wasn’t the time for that in the midst of all the chaos of getting The Beef solvable and Carmy wasn’t equipped to give that or recognize it was needed. What I do fault Carmy with is not taking control and realizing they couldn’t do the impossible in E7. He should have just stopped, regrouped, canceled the orders, and done a post-mortem on what went wrong. His blowup wasn’t just about the to-go’s or the review. He was holding it together, barely, for months and this was him finally blowing a fuse. 

I think when some see the scene of Sydney and Marcus talking shit about Carmy they stay stuck on neither accepting blame. I took the scene as two young Black professionals bonding and talking shit because coworkers talk shit about their boss. As far as demanding apologies from Carmy or Sydney and Marcus, fine, sure, whatever. Carmy did apologize to both of them. Maybe it wasn’t as gushing and dramatic as some think he needs to be to atone. I dunno, I think it was okay for where we are in the story. Sydney and Marcus are still a bit bitter and cautious, as one would expect after being chastised in front of peers. I don’t think it’s fair to expect them to prostrate themselves to Carmy, someone they are still giving a bit of side eye to after he did humiliate them. They don’t fully understand what’s up with Carmy. He keeps things well guarded. When he opened up about Al-Anon Sydney, rightfully so, she said it was too personal. So he takes that as let me keep my shit to myself, like I always have, we ain’t that close, sorry. By the same token, Sydney and Marcus may not be at the point of being like hey, these are my experiences being Black in the workplace, thirsty for more, and feeling marginalized so I’m sensitive to x, y, z. 

Everyone is in their own story and not fully transparent because they are all navigating how to exist together joyfully and productively. Nor is anyone a mind reader. But really, at the core all three of their needs and struggles are universal. Who hasn’t felt unsupported and taken for granted? Who hasn’t had to keep adulting when their world is crumbling? I think what’s needed more is a sit down between all of them to hash it out. What we got in E8 was venting from Sydney and Marcus and guilty resignation from Carmy. Not satisfying, but realistic. They have work to do as a team. They need love and forward positive movement more than they need some perceived deserved atonement. Words are easy and cheap. Anybody can say they sorry, what they actually gonna do?

My whole point is we need to look at all of them as just people. I’m not saying be blind to identity but at the core everyone’s arc could be anyone’s arc. All of their struggles are universal. I am a Black woman and I relate to all three of them for various reasons. Like Sydney, I have been the young Black girl thrust into leadership but not supported in growth. My authority has been questioned, I’ve been bullied, I’ve been given too much on my plate because I’m “so capable and being held to a higher standard.” Like Marcus, I’ve hyper fixated on a new passion to the point of obsession and had trouble figuring out how to maintain the baseline while chasing perfection. Like Carmy, I have depression and anxiety, had an addict family member who died suddenly (my mom, I didn’t go to the funeral either and had to go back home abruptly) yet still had to be the boss of a shit show while trying to heal, deal, not overshare, share, yet ask for a minute that was never given all at the same time. 

I don’t know if I’m making any sense but I think everyone needs to look deeper if they seek to prioritize any of these character’s needs over another and be dismissive of anyone’s struggles. I think that’s what the show is kind of about. And maybe do the same thing with people IRL. Anything else is unproductive and unkind. There is not enough mercy, grace, empathy, and understanding. 

Anyways, be blessed and Happy Holidays! 

Edited to add: In no way am I dismissing the conscious or unconscious bias of some viewers who fail to empathize with Sydney and Marcus. I forgot to include that earlier. My point is conscious and unconscious bias can be at play with either take on the conflicts between these three characters.

[xxrainshadowsxx]

Family Affairs

First family therapy session and the return of angst. Takes place a few days after Jack plants the seed. DISCLAIMER: None of the advice given in this chapter is professional. I am not a therapist, and any advice given is my own personal take on my characters and their situation.

(Also I kind of have an important question down below so please make sure you read that note too!)

Rating: T

Warning: Tiny bit of language, and some heavy topics

“Do we really have to do this?” Jack whispers as the three of you walk up to the quiet center. “All they’re going to do is ask me about planting the tree again.”

“No, she won’t. She’s not here to do that, she’s here to help us learn how to be a family,” you say softly yet firmly. “This is a huge change for all of us, and she’s here to help us through it.” Jack doesn’t complain further, but you can tell he also doesn’t completely believe you. And you can’t blame him for his bad mood. Ever since he’d planted the seed earlier that week, he’d been hounded by just about everyone in the city. It was overwhelming, and while he didn’t regret planting the seed, he was desperate for people to leave him alone again.

Jack wasn’t the only one who was uncomfortable. Onceler had been almost completely silent since you had told him where you were going. He, too, had been receiving intense levels of scrutiny after coming back into the public light to help Jack plant the seed. You thought he’d be used to the attention by now, but he seemed to hate it more than Jack did, and you guess you could understand why. He used to be adored. There was a lot more hostility this time around.

But you had to give them both a lot of credit. Despite their complaints, both Jack and Onceler did recognize the importance of this appointment. There were a lot of emotions to sort out, and no one wanted those emotions to become overwhelming in an already delicate situation. Anything that could alleviate the stress was welcome, and at this point, necessary.

Onceler holds the door open for you, and you step inside a quiet waiting room. This particular therapist’s office mimicked a home setting, which you liked; you didn’t want anyone to feel like they were going to a doctor’s office for these visits. You smile a thanks at your fiancé and take a seat on a soft loveseat, Jack right next to you. That left Onceler to sit in the single chair across from the two of you.

You don’t have to wait more than a minute or two before a woman with shoulder-length chocolate hair comes out. “Welcome,” she says in a soft voice and with a soothing smile. “Please, follow me to the back.” You take one of Jack’s hands in your own, and Onceler’s in the other, and lead your family to the woman’s office.

The back room is set up much like the front, with a distinct home-like setting. However, there’s a much longer couch back here, and the three of you are all able to comfortably sit side by side, while the woman sits across from you.

“My name is Emily,” she says in her calming tone once all of you are settled. “And I understand that the three of you are in a very unique situation. I want to impress upon you first and foremost that this is a judgment-free environment. You can speak your mind here, and I will not think less of you for it. And this is your family. We can work on being comfortable speaking the truth to them if you’re not already.”

Her words are exactly what you need to hear, and you hope she’s been able to calm Jack and Onceler as well. You still have one hand of theirs in each of your own, and you give them gentle squeezes as Emily continues. “I know we’ve spoken before,” she says, addressing you. “But I would love to meet the rest of your family.”

Jack takes a deep breath, but decides to go first. “My name is Jack,” he introduces. “And this is my mom… and my dad, I guess. Well, he is my dad, but I’m still getting used to having a dad…” he trails off here, his cheeks turning pink, but Emily, true to her word, doesn’t seem to mind. She simply smiles and nods before turning her attention to Onceler, who shifts uncomfortably under her gaze.

But, despite his discomfort, he also introduces himself to Emily, and confirms that he is indeed Jack’s father. Emily nods again, then consults her notes that she’s already begun compiling.

“So, based on what I know about this, and what I’ve discerned so far, I’ll want to do individual sessions with all of you in time, but today I think it’s best to remain together,” she decides. “And just to make absolutely sure I have all of my facts together, Jack, you grew up with your mother your whole life, until just recently when your father came back into the picture. And Onceler, you were unaware of Jack’s existence until then. Am I correct in all of this?” All three of you nod in affirmation, making Emily lean back and sigh. 

“Well, this is a complicated situation, that’s for sure,” she comments, but there’s no judgment in her statement, just an acknowledgment of the bizarreness of the whole thing. “And I can imagine that everyone’s emotions are going a bit haywire.” She turns to you. “If you’re comfortable, can I ask why you didn’t initially tell Onceler about Jack? Do they already know why?”

Now it’s your turn to shift under her gaze. As nice and comforting as she was, the topic was never fun to revisit. You quickly explain to her that you wanted to tell Onceler about your pregnancy, but weren’t able to get in touch with him. To her credit, she doesn’t dig into this point for now, just adds it to the list of very weird circumstances that surrounded all of you.

“Wow,” she comments when you’re done speaking. “Yeah, you three are going through quite a lot. But the important thing to remember is that despite all of these obstacles, I’m getting an abundance of love in this room. There might be hurt, and there might be confusion, but most importantly there is love, and I want all of you to remember that, particularly if things get challenging. We’re probably going to get pretty deep during our sessions here, but there’s no shortage of support for each and every one of you.” She gives another kind smile, and this time, you can tell Jack and Onceler are starting to become more accustomed to her presence, and thus more likely to open up.

“And one more thing that I should probably address,” Emily adds, glancing down at her notes. “I understand that all three of you have been or are currently in the public eye, particularly Jack and Onceler. This might come into play later, but for now I don’t think it’s a big deal, nor do I think it’s something that will drastically affect your family dynamic. So unless I’m proven wrong about that, I’m going to leave the fame firmly behind us for the time being.”

Next to you, you can feel Jack visibly relax. That had been his biggest worry, and it had quickly been alleviated. Onceler, on the other hand, was still a bit cautious, which you understood. You were sure his experience in the spotlight was going to affect him and need some working through far more than either you or Jack would need. 

Emily next asks Jack about himself, and while it seems an innocent enough question, you’re sure she’s also doing her job. Sure enough, you can see her making notes as Jack speaks. When Jack mentions his love of music and his newly formed agreement with his father to learn guitar, Emily apparently reads a lot into that; her pen is practically skating across the journal on her lap.

After Jack, Emily turns next to you. “And what makes you, you?” she asks, the same question she posited to Jack. Unlike your son, you have much less to say.

“I mean, I’m a mom. That’s been my primary role ever since Jack was born, and I like to think I’ve done a good job at it. Jack’s a great kid,” you shrug.

“Yes, but you are more than that,” Emily explains patiently. “You’re not just defined by your relationships with others. You’re more than a daughter or a sister. You’re more than Onceler’s fiancée, or even Jack’s mother. You seem to have forgotten that.”

All you can do is blink, words lost in your throat. You want to refute her because of course that’s not the case, but as you start actually thinking about it… she’s not wrong. For the past decade, you’d delved so deeply into motherhood to numb the pain that was there so now, that was all you knew.

“It’s alright,” Emily comforts gently. “This happens to several women after kids come along. I’m not saying that your kids shouldn’t be your first priority, or that you’re in any way a bad mother, just that it’s not a bad thing to focus on yourself as well. In fact, it’s a necessity.”

Well shit. For as nice as she was, she pulled absolutely no punches. You trusted that this would make your family stronger on the other side, but the journey was going to be even more arduous than you were anticipating.

Finally, Emily turns to Onceler. This was the part that you were really interested in. Since coming back into your life, you had seen him return to life, but there was still a deep rooted self-loathing there. He’d already made it abundantly clear that he thought you were too good for him, and had insinuated that Jack might even be better off without him. You’d done your best to stop these insidious thoughts in their tracks, but it was beyond clear that he, more than even you or Jack, needed the professional help.

And sure enough, as Emily asks him the same question as you and Jack, his line of vision finds the floor. “What am I supposed to say?” he mutters after a moment. “That I’ve failed at everything in my life? That I haven’t even been able to raise my son? I haven’t done anything right. I don’t know why she still wants me around. They deserve a better husband and father than I can be.”

For the first time, Emily puts down her journal and instead scrutinizes Onceler for a few moments. She then asks a question that you never would have thought to ask. “Do you want to lose them? And I need a brutally honest answer.”

“Of course not,” Onceler answers, looking and sounding almost offended. “I love them. They’re all I have.”

“If you love them, but keep telling them they deserve better than you, knowingly or not, you’re putting an idea in their heads that you don’t want to be around,” Emily says bluntly. “Everyone messes up. But no matter how grievous the offense, you can become a better person. You’ve committed no acts of violence against your family, so I see no reason for you to be separated from them. Believe it or not, I see this often. You made a mistake, yes. But no matter the size, your son and fiancée believe the best in you. Instead of trying to convince them they can do better than you, you need to become the man you think they deserve. But you can’t be that unless you forgive yourself first.”

The silence in the room is heavy, a palpable presence after her words. You’ve talked to Onceler about forgiving himself before, but you’d never been able to achieve the same punch that Emily has just given. Whether he likes it or not, this is what he needs.

“I… I don’t know if I can forgive myself,” he whispers, his voice thick with sorrow. You can tell he’s working hard to hold back tears. “What I’ve done… I’ve hurt so many people. And it’s my fault I wasn’t involved in Jack’s life at first. I made the decision to leave. There was so much I did wrong.”

“Then start with something you did right,” Emily advises. “And I know it’s hard to think of anything you did right when your mind keeps bringing up all of your mistakes, but that’s what I’m here for. I can give you the tools. You just need to choose to use them.”

“And as for something you did right,” you start nervously, looking to Emily to make sure you’re allowed to say this, but she nods encouragingly, so you continue. “As soon as you found out about Jack, you wanted back in his life. And you’ve done everything to be an attentive father since then.”

“It’s not near enough,” Onceler insists, but this time, Jack interrupts him.

“I like having a dad much better than not having a dad,” he says quietly, but in the silent room, it might as well be as loud as a gunshot.

He also manages to completely shut Onceler up. How could he continue arguing after that? He just hangs his head, letting his son’s words sick in as you run your thumb over the back of his hand, offering him what crumbs of comfort you can.

“See?” Emily says, finally breaking the silence. “Your family loves you. They believe the best of you. If you can’t believe in yourself just yet, borrow theirs. I don’t think it’s wrong to have other people as your primary source of motivation, initially. In time, I want you to want to better yourself for you, but if you can’t do that yet, that’s okay. As long as you aren’t using others as emotional support crutches, they can be helpful in terms of motivation.”

“And you can always lay your burdens on me,” you add quickly. “We’re going to be married, and that’s what being married is about. Your joys are mine, your sorrows are mine. And I want to help you with whatever pain you’re going through, even if all I can give is a listening ear.”

“And I want to do the same for you,” he sighs emphatically. “I’m just not sure I know how.”

“That’s why we’re here,” you remind him with a small smile. “We don’t have to know everything right away. We’re here so we can learn how to support each other.” You turn to Jack to include him as well. “All three of us. And believe me when I say, you support me better than you know. There’s so much I could never have gotten through if you hadn’t been there with me.”

“You told me when planting the seed,” Jack says carefully, “that everyone deserves a second chance. I think you should give yourself one, too.”

At yours and Jack’s words, the tears that had been threatening him finally spill over Onceler’s blue eyes. “Thank you,” he says, pulling both of you into his arms. “I don’t know how I ever got lucky enough to get you. Both of you.”

Emily lets the moment linger a while before speaking up. “Well, I think that should do it for today,” she murmurs, seemingly satisfied. “Same time next week? And I think we’ll start with individual sessions then.” You confirm the details with her before leading your family out.

You weren’t perfect yet. None of you would ever be perfect. But you were mending. And you were confident that with each other’s help, you would become as strong a family unit as you were able to be.

OK, question time. My Too Much Gene decided to kick in yet again, and this time... she wants me to write another OncelerxReader multi-chapter fic. The difference is that this one is heavily AU, and set in the 1910's. And the MC isn't the same MC as the one in Interpersonal, if that makes sense. Like, there's no Aurora, her mother isn't dead, little things that make it not the same character. My question is, would any of you actually be interested in reading that? I'll probably write it regardless, but whether or not I post it depends on if y'all would actually read it.

[chaotic-super]

Live With Me - Chapter 15

Read Live With Me on AO3 here!

Kara wakes up in bed alone. It’s dark out and the opposite side of the bed is still made to perfection, adding to her confusion that is most definitely caused by waking up alone for the first time in a long time and a mild headache.  

She tugs herself free of the sheets and climbs to her feet, wobbling a little before getting her balance. Once she’s upright, her hand comes up to rest against her neck as she realizes how dry her throat is. She has to make a pitstop in the kitchen once she’s figured out where her wayward girlfriend has gone.

The stairs creak beneath her feet. It’s something Lena keeps complaining about and has been promising to get it sorted out as soon as their lives aren’t as hectic and they can trust someone enough to come into the house to fix it. Kara doesn’t have the heart to tell her that she loves the creaky stairs; she thinks it gives the house character and reminds her of the creaky floorboards in the Danvers’ house. Those floorboards used to soothe her at night when she could hear people moving about the house, a constant reminder that she was not alone. If it annoys Lena though, she has no problem letting her get it fixed, her new constant reminder is the way she wakes up in her arms every morning, or at least, she usually does.

Stumbling into the living room, she’s greeted by the sight of Lena smooshed up into the armchair with her laptop balanced on the arm. She has a blanket draped across her that covers every part of her body except her head and the hand closest to her laptop so she can still type, albeit slowly since she’s doing it one-handed.

“Hey.” Kara mumbles, plopping down on the empty couch, Lucy nowhere in sight. “Did Lucy leave already?”

Lena looks up at her, her eyes soft and lingering. “No, she couldn’t make it out because the crowd hasn’t dissipated any. She’s in the guest room. I think she’s still awake and working but she wanted a little privacy. I can’t blame her; she’s been stuck with us all day.”

Kara nods, completely understanding. “Ah, I see. What time is it anyway?”

“It’s late, almost ten.” Lena answers, snapping her laptop closed and pushing herself up off the chair with a grunt, her blanket still wrapped around her snuggly. She smushes herself into Kara’s side, her head resting against her shoulder for a second until Kara wraps her arm around her, and then her head falls to her chest. “I’m sorry I got you drunk for the livestream.”

“Oh, crap. I forgot about that. It’s not your fault I’m a lightweight. Besides, I should have known better than to drink at a time like this.”

Lena shakes her head, the movement making Kara feel like Lena is trying to burrow into her skin. “Don’t be silly, darling, if there’s any time you should be drinking it’s when the government are simultaneously trying to destroy your life and murder you. If it makes you feel any better though, you did win a lot of people over with your antics on the livestream. I’ve been fielding questions on Twitter since we were live but I think the people of the internet would like to hear from Little Miss Lightweight herself.”

“Are there a lot of people asking questions on Twitter?” Kara cringes at the thought. “I can barely remember the livestream so seeing what they’re asking is kind of scary.”

“You didn’t do anything too bad, don’t worry.” Lena smiles. “You just complimented my jawline a lot and showed how utterly obsessed you are with me, that’s all.”

Kara facepalms. “Please tell me you managed to save the livestream so it wasn’t a complete waste?”

“I answered a lot of the professional questions, don’t worry. You didn’t ruin it anyway, it actually got a lot of people on our side, it turns out that I’m not the only person who adores your cute rambles. You showed a lot of humanity and that goes a long way, now, get your butt on Twitter, I’m going to have a nap while you do that.”

“Ok, let me just go and grab a drink, my mouth is as dry as a witch’s tit.”

Lena barks out a laugh. “You should drink more often if it gets that kind of comment out of you. Have you had a personality change?”

“I think somehow your drinks have turned me into you.” Kara jokes, pushing Lena off her gently so she can stand up. “Want me to grab you a drink too?”

“No thank you, I’ll just have a little bit of yours.”

“Ok.”

Kara goes and grabs herself a can of soda out of the fridge and just as she’s about to close the door, she hesitates and grabs another one. She’s fallen for Lena’s claims of only wanting a sip before and it always ends with her being the one only having a quick mouthful and Lena drinking the rest of it. She hides the second can behind her back and as she moves into the living room, she places it on the side table beside the couch where Lena won’t see it unless she’s looking for it.

Lena doesn’t spot her doing so because while she is still awake, her eyes are closed and her head tilted back against the cushions of the couch, sleep slowly creeping in on her. Kara picks up the laptop Lena was using not too long ago and takes her spot next to Lena, cracking the can open and taking a gulp before handing the can to Lena.

Lena takes several gulps and Kara rolls her eyes at her. She was right to grab the second one. Lena hands the can back to her, two-thirds of the contents now missing.

“Thanks,” Kara mutters and Lena hums in response, oblivious to the sarcasm in her voice. Kara’s not mad though, especially not when Lena unravels the blanket from around herself partially to cover Kara up too so they are wrapped in a little burrito of love and soda thievery.

“Oh, by the way, a bunch of people did as you requested and have sent you pictures of their pets.” Lena sleepily informs her, her head pressing into her shoulder.

“What?” Kara’s hands speed up, logging into the laptop and then Twitter as quickly as she can, her bright blue eyes scanning the screen excitedly in search of the pictures she so desperately needs to see right this second.

Her Twitter feed is a mess but Lena wasn’t lying, there are a whole lot of animal pictures for her to go through, most of them dog pictures, her favourite.

“Can you admire the dogs a little bit quieter please?”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“I could feel your excitement in the air.” Lena mumbles.”

“Then…no.”

“Ugh. Ok.” Lena holds her hand out and Kara takes the hint, pressing the can back into her hand. Lena finishes it off and then resumes her previous position, getting closer and closer to the sanctity of sleep with every second that passes.

Kara takes back the can and immediately opens the other one. She actually really likes this side of Lena, the side where she’s relaxed and annoying and real. This is the side of her only she gets to see, the parts of her that Lena doesn’t try to make perfect. She allows herself to just be who she is and react naturally rather than wearing a mask.

Getting back on track, she starts sifting through the comments and pictures, smiling at the puppy pictures and cringing at the lovesick puppy pictures of herself looking over at Lena, screenshots from the livestream. Well, she can see why Alex used to get annoyed at her for being so obliviously in love with Lena because if that’s what she used to always look like before she admitted her feelings to both herself and to Lena, that must have been spectacularlyannoying for Alex.

Her fingers fly across her keyboard, answering the less invasive questions and any that aren’t too serious. She can already see that Lena answered a lot and is trying to avoid answering any that Lena has already addressed so there aren’t any discrepancies in their stories for anyone to latch onto.

She counts herself lucky though because it seems as though people aren’t as interested in the details of the case as much as they are trying to pry into her personal life. That would usually be a bad thing but in this case, it’s nice. It’s giving her the opportunity to tell the world how great Lena is when she’s usually entangled in the negative press that comes with having Lex Luthor as a brother.

It’s very difficult containing herself and not turn every question or comment into a reason to go off on a tangent about how beautiful and smart and kind and resilient Lena is. She just wants to shower her with compliments and show the world just how amazing she is, to force them to believe in her the way she does.

Soothed by the gentle breaths and snores in her ear, Kara passes the time until Lena eventually stirs and demands they go to bed.

Kara is more than happy to comply, simply glad that the next time she wakes up, it will be with Lena right by her side.

-

It’s not just Lucy that manages to sneak out first thing in the morning but also both Kara and Lena. It seems as though some of the drama and need to see them in person has died down overnight, probably due to them doing the livestream yesterday and then tweeting about it directly afterwards, giving the media outlets something to report on, even if it isn’t much more than the basic statements they already had, they can now take the more personal angle on it thanks to Kara.

They get to the car with very little interaction with the people outside, most of them just taking photos. A couple of them try to shove their cameras in their faces and ask questions but Kara takes the petty route of turning her back every time one specific guy points his camera at her and the footage of that from another reporter actually ends up online, another point for Kara. She’s quickly winning the hearts of the nation without even trying.

They find that out when they arrive at CatCo through the back entrance and are escorted by security up to Cat’s office. They aren’t entirely sure what’s going on until Cat stands up from her chair and dismisses the security guys with a wave of a hand.

“Good morning, ladies. It’s such a shame you’re so boring and monogamous, you don’t get to appreciate the muscles of the guys I’ve hired to keep the rodents out of the building. There is a couple of very attractive ladies downstairs guarding the art department though that might be just your speed if you decide to dive into non-monogamy.”

“Can we just get to work?” Lena side-eyes Kara, mostly because she doesn’t understand how Kara isn’t fazed by anything Cat’s saying but she supposes that after years of working with her, it’s not the biggest leap that she’s just numb to it.

“Whatever, work’s going well, you’ve been doing well. Kara, great stunt with that creep outside your house, you won internet points for it.”

Kara loses her blank expression, trading it in for a more startled expression. “Oh, um…I wasn’t expecting people to see that.”

“That’s why people love it.” Cat swipes her glasses off her face and places them down atop her desk. “People like it when you are genuine. You might be annoying but you are genuine. That doesn’t mean I want you to drunkenly lust after your girlfriend on a livestream though. We need to control the narrative and while you have done a great job and your tweets, which I have been checking, have been a great way to prove we are being open and honest, we need to close off momentarily because Ms Nal’s partner has concluded the job of setting up a secure computer for us to use to upload the proof. We need to go over exactly what we’re releasing and make no further statements on the matter until it is officially out there. Got it?”

“Got it,” Kara says as Lena and Lucy nod resolutely, trusting Cat on this. If there’s one woman that can get them through this, it’s her.

“Why don’t you two lovebirds go and wait in Kara’s office and keep Nia from bugging her boy toy and slowing him down until it’s done while Lucy and I discuss a few matters?” Cat asks but it’s clear that her question is much more akin to a demand.

“Ok.” Lena grabs Kara’s hand and guides her out of the office.

The security guys follow them to Kara’s office just a few steps behind them but don’t follow them into the room. They close the door behind them and greet the two people already in there. Kara’s not super stoked that her office is the headquarters for the team but she gets it, sometimes there’s just a need and they are doing a lot for her so she can’t really complain.

Nia is sitting in her office chair just spinning around in a circle, the chair moved to the middle of the room beneath the ceiling fan and she’s following the rotations, very obviously bored out of her mind.

Brainy is working diligently on a fancy yet beefy-looking laptop that has a million wires coming and going all over the place, headphones affixed over his ears, probably to block out the sounds Nia’s making so he can concentrate.

Lena’s hands reach out and stop Nia from continuing to spin in the chair. “Hello.”

Nia tilts her head back so she can see Lena’s face and her mouth turns up into a massive smile. “Hey! You’ve escaped your tower, Rapunzel!”

“It’s more of a house.” Lena rolls her eyes and pushes the chair, and subsequently Nia too, across the room closer to where the chair should actually be but it can’t go in the exact right spot because Brainy is using Kara’s desk.

“Hi, Nia. Hi, Brainy,” Kara says, waving at them each in turn and getting a half-hearted two-finger lift off the keyboard from Brainy. She supposes that’s enough of an acknowledgement though and doesn’t mind.

Nia rests her head on her closed fist, her elbow resting on the flimsy arm of the chair. “So, I watched your livestream.”

Kara’s chipper attitude fades some. There’s definitely some teasing coming. “I’m not surprised.”

“Don’t get that sour look on your face, I thought it was cute. I don’t often get to see that mushy side of you because you’re mostly professional at work apart from the handholding. I’ve seen you ramble about a lot of things but that whole rant about Lena’s jawline being sculpted by the Gods, that was just too much for me, I about died of cuteness overload.”

Without Kara’s consent, a blush spreads across her cheeks. She’s not ashamed of her love for Lena and will happily shout it from the rooftops but there’s just something strange about it being CatCo’s rooftop. This is her workplace and while her relationship is now very public, it doesn’t feel natural to be discussing this or the way she gushed about Lena yesterday while here.

“Stop bullying her, Nia. You know she’s delicate.” Lena wraps her arm around Kara’s waist, a semi-teasing smile gracing her lips. “Let’s just sit in awkward silence until Brainy is done. Ok?”

“Whatever.” Nia shrugs.

Even though Lena is the one that suggested the silence, she’s the one that is the one hating it the most. She’s not someone that is very good at just sitting around and doing nothing all day, or even just sitting and doing nothing for ten minutes apparently.

The only time she’s happy to just sit and relax is when she’s got a certain blonde doing something she can leer at her for, usually gardening. She does look good when she’s bent over the violas and surprisingly, that’s not a euphemism. She also looks good bent over the pansies. That is a euphemism.

Lena takes a glance to the side to see Kara just sitting there, the light shining down on her and reflecting in her pretty blonde locks like droplets of sunlight caught soft waves. She looks good enough to eat. They should have stayed home.

At least Lena’s not bored anymore.

It turns out that Lena doesn’t need Kara to be gardening to find her ridiculously attractive and have her be her entertainment. Every once in a while she looks up and catches Lena’s eye and when she sees the barely concealed predatory look, her blush grows and she looks away bashfully. Lena can’t get enough of it. They may have only just left the house but she’s certainly looking forward to getting back there so she can ravish Kara.

Brainy pulls his headphones off rather aggressively and it grabs their attention and wipes the seductive look off Lena’s face and lightens her eyes from the dark gaze she was holding previously.

“I’ve got it. It’s done.” He stands up, his spine straighter than any of them in the room and tucks his hands behind his back. “You may plug in your USB device now and you can rest assured that your data will be safe.”

“Uh, thanks, Brainy,” Kara says, still a little flustered because of what Lena can say without saying anything at all but the feeling dissipating and being replaced by a wave of relief that they are finally able to put their proof out into the world.

“Isn’t he just the best?” Nia asks, standing up and pressing a peck to his cheek, garnering the most human reaction he has had since they met him today by widening his eyes and ducking his head.

“Sure, Nia. He’s pretty great. Would you mind grabbing Ms Grant so we can start planning the proof release?” Lena asks.

Kara jumps in before Nia can accept though. “I’ll go, I have to grab the USB from where I hid it anyway.”

“Want me to come with you?” Lena asks but Kara shakes her head.

“I’ll only be a minute, sit back and rejoice in this little win.”

Lena sits back down, reassuring herself that Kara is right, she will only be a minute. She watches closely as Kara leaves and gestures for Nia to sit on the chair Kara just vacated rather than the desk chair, garnering a confused nose scrunch.

In response to that look, Lena huffs. “If you think you deserve the good chair and won’t get kicked out of it when Ms Grant comes in here, you’re very much wrong.”

“Fine.” Nia gives in and Brainy moves his chair next to Nia’s.

Kara goes to Cat’s office first to get her and finds her alone so Lucy must be off doing something important that doesn’t include babysitting them so they don’t do anything worse than drunken livestreams.

“Hey, Ms Grant, Brainy has finished up with the computer now.”

Cat simply nods and stands up. She gathers a few items off her desk and piles them on top of her notebook before joining Kara at the door. Kara gets a glance at them and sees that it’s just her glasses, her phone and her lucky pen. Cat’s feeling good about this if she’s bringing her lucky pen.

“We just have to stop and get the USB.”

“Lead the way.”

Kara doesn’t waste any time, she strides right towards Snapper’s old office, completely ignoring the intrigued looks of her co-workers but she does notice the stress and apprehension on their faces and in their tight postures. It’s understandable, something huge is going down and the person in the middle of it keeps showing up at work and acting strangely.

Cat tuts at her when she gets just inside the door to Snapper’s office because she digs her hand right into the plant pot she hid the USB in. Her nails fill up with soil and her fingers hand to wiggle around a little but it’s there, she still has it and it’s right where she left it.

She was a little worried it would have been found, especially when she was walking up here and saw that the room has been partially emptied, just a desk, a chair and some empty shelves remaining. Clearly filling the role of Editor-In-Chief isn’t at the top of Ms Grant’s priority list at the minute.

“Got it.”

“You better wash your hands.”

“I will once this is safely in the office with the rest of the group, don’t worry.”

Cat nods but she isn’t satisfied. They barely get a few more steps before she speaks again, not being able to hold her tongue. “You’re dropping dirt in my building.”

Kara doesn’t dignify that with a response but she does tighten her grip of the USB and keeps marching towards her office. The door swings open after Cat grabs the handle. Kara did go to grab it but a sharp clearing of Cat’s throat has her hand retreating. Apparently, she’s not allowed to open the door when her hand is dirty even though she reached out with her clean hand.

“One USB.” Kara holds it out to Brainy, allowing him the honours. “I grew that myself, as you can see.” Her shoulders sink when her joke doesn’t land but Lena’s comforting hand runs over her shoulder blades.

“Tough crowd, I thought it was funny though.”

“Thanks, baby.” Kara mumbles. “I’m just going to go and wash my hand, keep an eye on the idiots for me.”

“You got it, don’t be long.”

-

The proof is posted to CatCo’s website along with the actual article that was meant to be released before right at midnight and it’s fast-growing to be one of the most viewed articles in CatCo’s history.

Every media company they can think of have written articles on it or posted about it in some way. It’s insane how the word is spreading that the long-awaited proof is out there now and people are drinking it in.

With the release though, they have been wary. They went home just after it was posted and came back to the office first thing in the morning but they would be lying if they said they weren’t worried now.

If the government weren’t wanting them dead before, they probably will now because they now have the proof they need to show that something more sinister is definitely at play and putting the heat on them. Not only that though, but the public is now also aware that they are in danger because of what they know so at least everyone will know the truth if they do get offed before their time and they will see the government for the corrupt body it is, not that most everyone in the US and across the globe doesn’t already know that, at least to some extent.

Kara and Lena are alone in Kara’s office. Now that the article is live, Kara is working on her next one. One where she’s detailing the hardships they faced and the explanation for the late publishing of the video of Snapper in her office and the actual article along with every other little scrap of proof they could get their hands on.

While she’s doing that, Lena is simultaneously keeping an eye on Twitter to see what the reactions to the article are and also getting back into some of her work for L-Corp. While most of it’s been covered already by Sam, her CFO, she feels terrible that it’s all being dumped on her, even if she is being compensated for it greatly, she knows just how much time she must be sacrificing with her daughter to keep the company afloat and step into her shoes while they get all of this sorted out.

There’s really not much she can do other than sign a few documents and go over a couple of projects that need to be approved though because Sam is so on top of things she has managed to get things more organized than she’s had them in years, even going as far as getting a couple of days ahead in certain areas where Lena is chronically behind. She’s going to have to pin her down for a conversation so she can teach her how to do that because no matter how many hours she’s put in before, she’s never been that organized. She has to have a secret about how she’s managed it.

“Kara, you’re getting a whole lot of positive attention here.”

 “Really?” Kara looks up from her laptop.

Lena hums her confirmation. “It’s looking really good. I bet your next article will be another boost for us as well.”

“Let’s hope so.”

A frantic knock at the door has them on edge. It’s quick and light but the sound is heavy and nerve-wracking.

“Come in,” Lena calls.

Franklin, a trusted co-worker of Kara’s, pokes his head in the door. “Kara, you better come out here, the state governor is here and she’s asking to see you.”

“What?” Kara can barely believe what she’s hearing and is up and heading out of her office right away. She has an idea of where she needs to go without asking and goes right for Ms Grant’s office, Franklin and Lena right behind her.

She finds the office empty though. “Oh, where is she?” She turns to Franklin. “I would have thought she would be in here with Ms Grant.”

“Ms Grant wouldn’t let them upstairs. They are in the lobby.”

Kara’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. Cat has pulled many tricks but keeping someone as important as the state governor in the lobby is something she couldn’t have anticipated but if anyone is going to make a power move like that one, it’s Cat motherfucking Grant. “That’s very…whatever. Let’s go.”

Lena and Kara step out of the elevator in unison, Franklin trailing behind them, his eyes alert as he keeps track of what’s going on like he’s afraid he’s about to miss something. The security guards are still present but the dozen guards that were stationed down here have been joined by at least another dozen, probably more, all ready and waiting to throw out The Governor and anyone else that they are instructed to do so.

The Governor is joined by her own guards, six of them all stationed around her in a loose hexagon that could tighten up to the sharpest of shapes in an instant.

“Ms Danvers, Ms Luthor. I’m glad you could join us.” The Governor notices them as they stalk forward to Cat’s side, who is standing in front of the Governor and her guards, arms crossed and looking seven feet tall in all of her feisty glory.

“What can we do for you, Governor?” Kara asks, her chest puffed in faux confidence, her voice as commanding as she can make it, taking a leaf out of Lena’s book from when she has her CEO persona in place.

“I was hoping to speak to you in private, are you certain that isn’t possible?” She turns her attention between Kara, Lena and Cat, seeking approval she has already been denied as far as Kara and Lena can see.

Cat shakes her head. “This is as far into my building as you’re getting. You can speak freely or don’t, that’s completely up to you.”

The Governor doesn’t look pleased but nods anyway, accepting that she’s not going to be getting very far with her request. “Alright, here is fine. Ms Danvers, your presence has been requested at The White House. The President wishes to speak to you in person.”

Kara’s eyes bulge along with Lena’s, Cat’s and Franklin’s.

“I believe it is quite obvious what he would like to discuss with you since it’s the top news story at every media station in the country. He has sent me to collect you and have you escorted there right away.”

“And if I refuse?”

The guards step forward.

“I don’t believe we need to discuss hypotheticals.”

“I want Ms Grant and Ms Luthor to join me too,” Kara demands.

The Governor has no issues with that, a single head nod allowing it. “You may bring guests with you but the meeting will be between you and The President alone as far as I’m aware. Please come with me.”

Cat doesn’t move when The Governor heads for the door and since Kara and Lena are a half-step behind her, they don’t move either.

The Governor and the guards take note of that and move back towards them threateningly.

“I will be collecting a few of my things from upstairs, as will Ms Danvers and Ms Luthor. We will be back soon, feel free to wait in the lobby.” Cat announces to them, not giving them time to argue before she’s ushering them into the elevator, leaving poor Franklin behind in her rush to stab the close-door button so they can’t be forcibly followed.

As they are on their way up, Cat turns to them. “We have to be careful about this. Kara, you’re going to be on your own for some of this, hold your ground and be the reporter I know you can be. Do not allow yourself to be bullied into anything. You hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“Excellent. Gather a few things from your desk to make it look like we weren’t just buying time. Leave your phones with Nia. I will bring some of my backup phones and pass them off as ours, bring your phone cases though. We have to take every precaution here, no matter what.”

Kara and Lena go right to Kara’s office and grab a couple of things. For Kara, it’s just a couple of notebooks and for Lena, it’s one of Kara’s spare notebooks and her keys, minus her house key. They stop by Nia’s desk and leave their phones with her, having her put them in her purse and also asking her to keep an eye on their laptops too since they are in Kara’s office. She can go and grab them later when they aren’t being watched by everyone in the bullpen.

Cat joins them a second later but she must have locked her phone up in her hidden safe that Kara only knows about because she was trusted with the code after two and a half years of being her assistant but before that, she didn’t even know of its existence because it’s hidden behind a panel in her private bathroom. Come to think of it, that would have been a better place for the USB drive rather than a plant pot but she can’t be blamed for that choice when she was under pressure and also traumatized.

“Nia, I want you to have CatCo make a statement that the three of us have been taken to The White House. I want you to slyly add in that it wasn’t completely of our own will. Do that however you will and also notify Alex Danvers of our whereabouts, please. Also, notify HR that you and Franklin have been put in charge of this and work will whomever they set up to lead the company temporarily, most likely Marcus. He’s a bit of a pompous asshole but I’m sure you can deal with him. Good luck.”

Cat starts marching away so Kara and Lena say their goodbyes quickly and head after her, passing Franklin on the way. Kara taps his arm, “Nia will fill you in, go talk to her.”

They are loaded into a car very fast upon getting back to the lobby, probably because they are afraid they will be left out of the loop again and will be forced to take actual action to bring them in and have that plastered all over the news too.

Kara takes Lena’s hand as she sits between her girlfriend and her boss. It’s mostly for her sake but she can feel Lena’s tight grip on her in a way that very much shows that she needs this just as much as she does.

A few minutes into the car ride, hidden by the gentle flow of Kara’s skirt, Cat’s hand travels to rest gently over the top of Kara’s. Not grabbing, just resting. Kara’s not sure if it’s for her benefit or for Cat’s but she’s not moving that hand. She’ll wait for Cat to move it first.

A while goes by of the silent car ride, nobody talking at all. The Governor is in another car but there are guards in the row behind them in the car and also one beside the driver, not that they could make a move because there is a very obvious screen between all of the rows of seats meaning that they are completely contained. They don’t have to try the doors to know they are locked.

The car pulls up at a familiar place. A smaller airport that is used for private planes, one that both Cat and Lena have used on a multitude of occasions and one that Kara has thanks to Lena. She’s not forgetting it in a hurry either. She’s not going to have the opportunity to get the same treatment on this flight though, these guards do not want a show of Lena railing Kara into unconsciousness on the plane, unfortunately.

The door is pulled open and a guard ushers them out, his jacket pushed back behind the holster on his hip, showing off his gun, probably purposeful.

They climb out one by one and are told to stay put. The car pulls away and parks a little way away back towards the actual parking lot.

Cat leans into the pair. “No talking on this trip, we are being listened to so until we know for sure what is happening, you stay quiet.” She leans halfway back before remembering something and leaning back in. “Also, never leave your purses unattended.”

Lena lowers her voice. “Got it.”

“Kara?” Cat asks, needing her confirmation too.

“Got it, too.”

“Good.”

The Governor meanders over, looking all too proud of herself for getting them here. She’s done her job so she doesn’t care about much else. “I’m glad you’ve made the right choice. You will be directed to board soon and accommodation will be provided for you upon your arrival. Ms Danvers, I assume your meeting with The President will be almost immediate, I believe that your meeting has been prioritized.”

“Thanks for the update,” Kara says, her voice monotone.

“You’re so very welcome.” The Governor’s voice is so full of egotistical smugness that it makes them want to either puke on her expensive heels or push her over and it’s hard to tell which is the better choice.

Lena shakes her head at her as she walks away but that one gesture says far more than any words could but Kara knows what words she would say, she can practically hear them ringing in her head and it’s enough to make a sailor cringe.

The three of them look up at the plane. It’s sleek and modern, definitely worth a pretty penny and it’s taking them somewhere they don’t really want to go. It’s taking them somewhere full of unknowns they don’t know how to deal with.

All they know is that while they know what’s waiting for them when they get off the plane physically, they can’t prepare themselves for what’s going to be waiting for them otherwise. They can only hope it’s something good. They like cake. Cake would be good. They have a feeling it’s not going to be cake.

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[lizisshortforlizard]

Living Dangerously - Chapter 30

Jurassic Park’s animal handlers: none of them ever mentioned by name in Michael Crichton’s original novel. Who were they? What were their lives like on Isla Nublar? Did any of them survive the disaster?

A year in the life of those responsible for the care of the dinosaurs. Many people would kill to have their jobs.

But would they die for it?

Jurassic Park novel/Jurassic Park film (1993)

Viewpoint: 3rd person female oc

Warnings: some swears, harassment and misogyny in the workplace

Tagging: @heresthefanfiction @ocappreciation @wordspin-shares @howlingmadlady @arrthurpendragon @themaradwrites @starryeyes2000 @kmc1989 (please lmk if you would like informed of my sporadic updates)

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Chapter 29 | Chapter 31

I Hate Myself for Loving You - Joan Jett & The Blackhearts

It turned out be a different sort of sleepless night to what Lizzy had been hoping for.

The wrong kind. 

She had lain awake for what few hours remained until morning, tossing, turning, occasionally weeping. Any sleep she managed to grasp was fitful, feeling like it only lasted a few seconds at a time.

She kept replaying what had happened in the clearing, each time a little more painful. Wondering how she could have behaved differently. How it could have turned out better than this unbearable limbo in which she didn't know where she stood anymore. Whether she'd just forever destroyed one of the best professional relationships she'd ever had. 

It was all her fault, of course it was.

Why did she keep doing this? It felt eerily similar to the last time she’d engaged without thinking of the consequences. It had nearly ruined someone else’s life back then, as well as her own. History was repeating itself, and she only had herself to blame. 

And now, once again, she had to live with the uncomfortable reality. She’d argue that it clearly wasn’t taking advantage from either side, in fact Lizzy would be bold enough to say they were both very much in agreement. But InGen’s legal department probably wouldn’t see it the same way. 

Admit it, girl. You fucked up. 

Dawn came, and she finally forced herself to get out of bed and pretend to be human. She should be looking forward to going out into the park again and seeing her animals, now that she wasn’t alone and it was relatively safe to do so, but she was dreading it. Unsure what she’d do when she inevitably bumped into Muldoon again.

Pretend it never happened or meet him head on? 

I don’t think I have it in me this time. 

She was in the canteen, laying low, listlessly poking at her scrambled eggs with a fork. Lizzy had cooked them herself, but they were far from her usual standard and didn't taste of anything other than disappointment. 

She heard the familiar Jeep engine outside, and the shower of gravel as it ground to a halt. Lizzy shrunk down in her chair, staring at her plate in dread. 

I’m better at breakfast.

Be the one to wake me up in the morning.

God, why did I do it?

At least the coffee was worth leaving her room for. 

It was the first thing Muldoon noticed as soon as he walked in. She hadn’t brought one over for him, like she usually did. Message received, loud and clear.

The one small act she did for him almost every day, and he hadn’t even appreciated it properly until it had stopped. That was enough to get him to talk first. Armstrong did something when she made coffee. Invoked a higher power. Witchcraft. Somehow she always got it exactly right.

This wouldn’t do at all.

“Good morning.”

“It is?” She replied dully, glancing up with red-rimmed eyes. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“You’re late for work.” He pointed out. “How are you doing?”

“Well, that’s a kick in the teeth.” She muttered. “But, if you’re genuinely asking? Annoyed. No, that’s not right. Vexed? Hm. Frustrated. Mostly at myself.” 

“Armstrong-“ Muldoon awkwardly stood in front of her. “I probably owe you an explanation.”

“No need. I thought you made it pretty clear, actually.” She felt the sting of rejection anew. It was more painful than she’d reckoned to talk about it. “You don’t owe me squat.”

“I could have handled things better.” He pulled out a chair to sit opposite her. “It all happened rather quickly.” 

“You were handling things just fine.” Lizzy gave up on her eggs, pushing her plate away before sitting back and folding her arms. “What changed?”  What exactly had changed? It was hard to explain, but what it came down to was-

“Too fast." 

She blinked, confused. ”Say again?”

Muldoon wished more than anything that Baker was around to keep him on the right track, guide him with what to say. 

”…moving too fast.”

”Well, thanks for the clarification.” Lizzy replied dryly. “And that’s…bad?”

It was, it didn’t feel right, to be suddenly rushing matters in the dark. Outside…fair enough, but in the back of a bloody Jeep?! 

Or maybe on the bonnet of his Jeep-

No, stop that. 

He wasn’t sure quite what had happened, but he’d forgotten his responsibilities. Keep her safe. And risking her career for the sake of one night together did not fall into that bracket. No matter how strongly he felt.  How he felt didn’t matter. Hadn’t mattered for a long time. 

“Don’t want one and done.” He tried to explain, despite the relentless stare from the other side of the table. “Can’t do it.”

Not with her. Everything or nothing at all. Anything else would never be enough. He was trying to voice that sentiment out loud, but he didn’t have the words. He barely had the syllables.

“It’s not right, either. We already knew that.“ Muldoon gave up. She’d have to trust him, he was doing his best. If she could still trust him. ”Does that help, at all?”

“Yes…” Then her face crumpled.

He looked at her closely. ”Are you lying to me?”

”Yes!” It all came pouring out in a high-pitched hurry. “You’ve been mad at me before and I’ve understood why. But, after, and when we were driving back-…I couldn’t read you, at all!”

Lizzy put her head in her hands and mumbled something beyond his range of hearing.

She thought he was angry with her? That’s what she was most upset about?

Muldoon reached out and gently but firmly pulled her hand away from her mouth.

”Again, please.” 

”…really thought I’d lost you.” She whispered. 

“Well, you certainly have a flair for the dramatic, Lizzy.” He kept hold of her hand, she let him.

”Are you implying I’m overreacting?” She choked out. “Because women love that.”

”To be clear, I’m not mad at you. I’ve never once been mad at you.”

”Are you sure?”

“Positive. Annoyed, maybe. Vexed? Once or twice.” Lizzy groaned when she realised what he was doing. “Frustrated…you get the idea.”

”Oh, that’s not fair.” She muttered. 

“But I’d find it very hard to live with, if you were dismissed because of something I did. Or might possibly do, if we were to, er-…” He looked uncomfortable. “-you know.”

"Suppose that’s a good point. Damn you for being so rational. I love my job.” She glanced up. “The people, eh...."

"Indeed, people are awful. Most people, at any rate." He quietly agreed. "This island would be bloody idyllic if we weren't going to be overrun by guests in a few short months.”

“So, where do we go from here?” Lizzy was already dreading the answer.

“I don’t think…we are going anywhere. You and I-" Muldoon looked resigned. "-have to carry on as before.”

“Like nothing ever happened?”

”I’m afraid so. Strictly professional.”

“But that’s not what I want.” May as well say it. 

“Nor me.” Lizzy wondered if him tracing circles on the back of her hand was conscious or otherwise. “But it’s what we have to do.”

Sobriety would be a distant memory if he was responsible for ruining her career.

“Still the funniest story I’ve ever heard.” She muttered after a few moments, breaking the tension.

“Good.” Her laugh. That ridiculous laugh that he couldn’t stop thinking about. “That’ll keep me going for a while.”

Lizzy nodded and managed a wonky smile. She felt like crying again, it seemed horribly like saying a goodbye. "We'll be okay, right?"

"I don't even want to imagine the alternative."

This is the right choice. This is the right choice. This is the right choice.

Doesn't feel right. Feels bloody awful. 

Lizzy tilted her head, pushing her body towards him, her candour returning. “Did you like it, though?” 

”Excuse me?” He had to have misheard, but the mischief in her expression was telling him otherwise.

”You heard. Did you-“

A noise from the doorway startled them both. Muldoon dropped her hand quick as a flash, Lizzy tried not to let her face fall in dismay. 

Kathy Baker was clattering into the canteen, struggling yet again with her bag, which looked even heavier than when she’d left before Christmas. 

“Found you, finally!” Kathy called and waved. "Oh, hey, you came back early! What gives?"

“Nothing.” In a role reversal, Muldoon quickly answered for them both, while Lizzy was the one who baulked.

“O-kay…jeez, answer faster.” Kathy gave up on her bag and abandoned it at the door, clumping over to their table, still in her winter boots. “Girl, before you ask, yes, I got the goods. Here, you’re welcome.”

She passed Lizzy a box of liquorice which was met with a pleased but slightly frantic ‘ooh!’. 

“Have you been crying?” Kathy asked her matter-of-factly. 

“Just allergies.” Lizzy sniffed and wiped her eyes, looking at the floor. 

“Uh-huh...” Kathy darted a quick glance at Muldoon, before drumming her recently manicured nails on the back of a chair, building up. "This is kinda perfect actually. I wanted to tell you two first out of everyone, obviously, but not over the phone. I, uh...I have some news."

The way she was avoiding eye contact with both of them, Lizzy could guess what it was. She quickly forced a smile. "You got the job?"

"Yeah, I got the job..." Kathy tried her best to look dismayed, before the grin burst through and she bounced on her tiptoes. "Guys, I got the job!"

Lizzy scrambled up to congratulate, quelling the geyser of rage, dread and panic that was bubbling up inside, feigning happiness for her friend. “What’d I tell you? You’re incredible!”

”I know, I’m kind of a big deal!” Kathy giggled, squeezing her tight. “First woman to ever hold the post in the history of the Smithsonian! I’m gonna have an office! I don’t have to work weekends anymore! I’m gonna have a life!”

“Alright for some.” Muldoon wasn’t so enthused. 

Kathy broke away from Lizzy, hands on her hips. “Go on then, let me have it.” 

"Well done. Knew you’d get it."

Lizzy shook her head. Damn man was proud as Hell, just doing his stubborn best not to show it. 

“It’s not the end of the world, I’ll be here for a while, until you can find my replacement.” Kathy pointed down at the top of Lizzy’s head and stage whispered pick her. 

“How long have I got?”

”Until August. “I can hang in there until August, right? What could go wrong before then?” Kathy laughed nervously then abruptly stopped at the alarmed look they both gave her. 

“Plenty.” Muldoon huffed.

Lizzy agreed with him. ”Best not to answer that.”

***

Kathy wasn’t the only one who brought Lizzy dessert as a souvenir on their return. 

Rico, the youngest but not least talented member the Carnivore Team was making his way towards her brandishing a Paupério tin that was far too dented and discoloured to be new. This looked promising unless, God forbid, it turned out to contain a sewing kit. Lizzy had been burned before. 

“For you!” He was calling to her as he jogged along.

Her face lit up at the sight. “That looks homemade, boy. Tell me it’s homemade.”

Rico caught up, handing her the tin. “From my mama, for you.”

“You really didn’t have to…” Lizzy tried to remain polite though she was dying to rip the lid off and tuck in. Dinner time was still achingly far away.

“Yes I did. She made me swear I wouldn’t touch any.” 

Have you been making friends, niño?

I have, at least one.

The strange Scottish lady was always nice to him, even if she was scarily forthright at times, and it had taken Rico a couple of weeks to figure out that she used certain rude words not as insults, but as terms of endearment.

“I’ve got good cigarros too if you want one, but don’t tell mama about those.” He tapped the side of his nose.

“Have you done something bad?” Lizzy asked warily. “I’m not being funny, but this is too much-“

“It’s just a thank you. You look out for me.” Rico said simply. “It was rough, at the start, but you wouldn’t let me stay in my room alone. I hated it at first, when you dragged me out all the time, but I know why you did it.”

His shoulders drooped. “When I can’t remember the word for something, you don’t make fun of me. The other guys still do, sometimes.”

Lizzy hadn’t really thought about it before. But he was around the same age as her brothers. And it was true, his English hadn’t been the best at the beginning. She knew all to well what it was like to be the outsider, not being confident to chip in when everyone else spoke a different language to you. She hadn’t wanted the youngest member of the team to feel left out or worthless.  The boy was good. Not long left school and already working for InGen? He was going places.

Rico was somewhat of a phenomenon. He was quiet and thoughtful, introverted, but he had a way with the dinosaurs that Lizzy was envious of. Even the most timid of creatures could be coaxed forward by Rico. He was just good at it. Something about how he spoke to them, how he moved, he had a calming influence. 

People had their favourite animals, and the reverse was equally true. The dinosaurs just liked him, most were comfortable being around him.

It had made other people jealous, some who weren’t as happy to just shut up and deal with it as Lizzy was. She had even considered asking Muldoon if Rico could become a handler for the infant raptor. He would be good for her, she was certain.

“It’s just banter.” She reassured. That was true enough, but one or two of the guys had a bad habit of pushing it into cruel territory. Words needed to be had. “Although Tom really is an arse. Don’t ever listen to him.”

She resisted the urge to ruffle Rico’s hair, like an unbearable aunt. He’s a grown man. He’s taller than you.

But he had such a baby face she couldn’t help but want to look after him. Maybe it was guilt. She missed her brothers by far the most out of all her siblings. It had been so long since she’d seen them.

“What would I do without you, kid?” She glanced down at the tin gratefully. “And your mother’s baking. Seriously, she could sell these.”

“You won’t ever find out.” He sidled closer, looking like he was getting ready to tell her a secret. “Listen, I want to see Africa. The Africa you and the boss talk about. See a wild elephant.”

“All these dinosaurs right here and you want to see an elephant?” She couldn’t help but smile. 

He laughed. “A wild elephant. Just promise you’ll take me along, next time you go, yes?”

”Sure. I might know somebody who could give you the tour.” Unable to resist any longer, Lizzy started breaking open the tin and she nearly teared up at how delicious the contents smelled. “Oh my God. Can you bring your mum too?”

He seemed to seriously consider it before nodding. “I’ll ask her?”

***

“Hey!" Later that day Kathy sneaked up behind her and tapped Lizzy on the shoulder. “Got a bone to pick with you.”

The old reliable Baker intuition was yelling loudly in her head, yet again. Niggling in her thoughts for several days. She couldn’t ignore it any longer. Kathy pointed a finger in accusation at her friend and cried triumphantly:

”You got laid!”

“What?!” Lizzy's eyes darted back and forth. "Shhhh!"

"You did!" Kathy gasped. "Oh my God, you did!"

”I did not!” Lizzy made a grab for her friend, trying to clamp a hand over her mouth, something, anything to stop her. “What the Hell, Kathy?”

“You’re, I dunno-“ The Team Leader wriggled free and shrugged, unconvinced. “-different?”

“Yeah, well. You’re wrong. Nothing happened at New Year.” Lizzy insisted. “Ro-uh…Muldoon and I went out for a drive, that was all.”

The at least partly true white lie that both of them had discussed and agreed on together.

“Who said anything about New Year?” Kathy raised an eyebrow.  “You…did?” Lizzy stalled helplessly. 

“I didn’t mention Muldoon, either. That’s where your mind went though, huh?”

”Er-“ Lizzy started to panic. 

”He came back early, to check you were okay, you were all alone here for a whole night and- oh, don’t give me that look! And ‘nothing happened’?” Kathy was still sceptical. “Yeah, right!”

She recalled the moment she had first suspected things may have changed between them. She peeked through the window just before she’d entered the canteen, nearly screamed in exhilaration and then saw how quickly Muldoon dropped Lizzy’s hand when he heard the door opening. Like a hot potato. Her heart had dropped just as quickly, and she caught the noise ready to burst forth from her throat in the nick of time.

Whatever had been going on, she clearly wasn’t meant to see. “Cross my heart.”

”Really? Nothing?” Kathy was still crestfallen. “You finally had the island to yourselves, and nothing at all?”

Lizzy considered how he had made her laugh harder than she had laughed in a long time, maybe even in her whole life. A moment that regardless of whatever happened between them now, she’d likely remember until the end of her days. 

Kathy was looking at her expectantly, while Lizzy’s memory was a mile or so away, in her favourite place in the park, with the stars above and the Rex rumbling away like a purring cat as the fire crackled.

”Well, not exactly nothing at all.” Lizzy’s mouth finally curved into a smile. “But if I told you, you’d probably never believe me.”

***

”Regis, why is my Jeep boxed in?”

”Uh…sorry Muldoon, I’m losing you-crrrhhhsshshhh.” The group of animal handlers all saw Ed discretely switch his radio off with a loud click. 

A couple of weeks into January, New Year a distant memory, but Lizzy’s stomach still flipped whenever she heard the park warden’s voice. Carrying on as normal was working, for the most part. But she couldn’t simply forget and move on. Feelings don’t just go away, you only adapt to get better at dealing with them over time. If you’re lucky.

Fortunately, a welcome distraction was in progress. Preparations were underway for an official event on the island. The front of the visitor centre was positively bustling. 

"Thought they weren't opening the park until the autumn?" Lizzy critically eyed the deliveries that were turning up left, right and centre. The  supply boat that morning had been sitting much lower in the water than usual.

"These are investors, idiot. They aren't guests. They need to see we’ve made good use of their money, so that they give us more!" Tom flicked her ear for emphasis, causing Lizzy to take a swipe at him, which he dodged easily. "Or we’re screwed. So Eddie’s gotta get his nose right in there."

"I don’t think they’ve ordered enough stuff.” When she turned back to look again, Lizzy could have sworn the number of boxes had somehow tripled.

”You’re doing a great job, buddy. Keep it up!” Tom yelled over to Regis, whose neck quickly turned red under his freckles.  “Don’t call me buddy!”

“Would you stop?” Lizzy elbowed him. “One of these days, he will throw something at you.”

”Hope it’s not gonna be valuable, cos it won’t have my good self to cushion the blow. He’ll miss.” His self-assurance was still grating.

”Wanna bet?” Lizzy remembered Trenton Thunder. “Baseball nut over there.”

”So Daddy played catch with him, big whoop.” Tom replied, grinding out his cigarette with his boot heel. 

“Can you guys make yourselves useful and keep an eye out for the ice sculpture arriving?” Regis trotted over to them. “I gotta go do a thing…”

”Yeah, sure. We basically get paid to stand around, anyway.” Kathy replied cheerfully.

“This event-“ Lizzy queried. “-are we invited?"

”Absolutely not.” Regis denied. “In fact, you in particular are barred, Armstrong, for obvious reasons.”

”Aw, Ed!” She feigned upset. “You know that just makes me want to go even more!”

“Ain’t gonna happen, Liz.” Regis carefully pulled a transparent plastic garment bag out of a box full of packing peanuts. It contained a very short, very red cocktail dress. “So quit asking.”

“That’s gonna clash with your hair.” Tom pointed out.

”It’s for María!” Regis snarled back at him.

“That’s not fair! Why does she get to go? You have catering staff flying over.” Lizzy was still on his case. 

Ed gave her a lopsided grin. ”Eye candy.”

”Huh?” Lizzy and Kathy said in unison, shooting each other confused glances.

“Okay, I see what happens.” Tom stepped forward. “Let me paint a picture for you, girls. You’ve got a lot of rich, lonely, powerful men in a room together, far away from their wives and mistresses, trying to prove who’s got the biggest dick. You need a little entertainment. Something pretty to look at. Grease the wheels.”

Regis clicked his fingers. “Bingo.”

“Oh, that’s disgusting. That’s disgusting.” Kathy was horrified. 

“Nobody touch anything.” Off Ed Regis went, garment bag slung over his shoulder. Presumably to find the unwilling future occupant of the dress. 

"Team Meeting, now.” Lizzy announced. 

The eight animal handlers huddled.

”I move that we do something. I want to find out where all their money's going. Because it sure as Hell isn't on the animals. Or us. Y’know, the people who actually do the work.” Lizzy's expression became stormy. "They're going to take advantage of her. And Ed's going to sit back, drink his lite beer, and watch it happen."

"In another win for human evolution, public relations manager achieves upright stance sans spinal column." Kathy muttered dryly.  “That’s cold, Kit.” Tom sounded impressed. “Attagirl, you’ll be as cynical as Liz and I by the time you leave this place.”

“Well, she has a point!” The Team Leader gestured. “We can’t leave María there alone. They’ll eat her alive.”

"So you agree?" Lizzy jumped on her chance. “I’m commandeering the situation?”

"Girl..." Kathy shook her head. "Girl, he's gonna kill you...getting involved…”

"I can handle Ed." Lizzy said confidently. 

"Ed's not the one I was talking about, sweetie.”

“We’re gonna see Liz in a dress? Looking like an actual woman?” Tom smirked at her expression full of disgust. "Hey, you gotta. It’s a formal. You’ll need something that doesn't scream 'I shovel crap for a living'." 

”Oh sure, let me just go pick one of my many ballgowns out of the wardrobe.” Lizzy gestured from her flyaway head to her mud-caked boots. "Are you blind?"

”You and María are about the same height. You wouldn’t look terrible in red, if it’s low lighting-“

”Jeez, Tom! Stop encouraging her!” Kathy moaned. “This is a terrible idea.” “As much as I hate to admit she’s right, better Liz than María.” The Texan stuck to his guns. “And you know it, Kit.” 

“That’s settled then. All in favour?” Lizzy called the vote. 

Six ayes were heard from the men before they looked to the Carnivore Leader for her choice. But she still hesitated. 

Come on, girl.

The seconds ticked by. Tom smirked confidentially at Lizzy before asking loudly:  “Kit, you wanna go grab Ed that cappuccino, or what?”

“Oh, I’m so gonna regret this.” Kathy wearily nodded. “You win.”

***

God, I'm starving. 

Lizzy had poured herself into the tiny cocktail dress meant for Maria, far more petite and less muscular than she was. The Haitian was more than happy to be relieved of her duties for the evening, kissing Lizzy on both cheeks before practically flinging the dress in the ethologist’s direction and gliding away down the corridor to do God-knew-what. Watering the plastic plants, probably.

The cheap fabric was working particularly hard underneath her arms and around the tops of her thighs. As well as doing hair and make-up, Kathy had reluctantly helped pile her into the nightmare dress and zip her up. She felt like an overstuffed sausage, and already had blisters forming from the high heels, rubbing her feet raw as she shuffled around with tiny steps.

But the place Lizzy felt most under-dressed was on her left hand.

She wished she’d had the foresight to put her engagement ring back on, which she still hadn’t found the willpower to shove in an envelope and send back to Simon. At least it would offer some protection for a few hours. Lizzy looked around the room. String quartet, ice sculpture, flowers everywhere…the opulence of it made her feel uneasy. 

She had a flashback to her apartment in the States, something Simon had divulged while complaining about a flamboyantly rich but cantankerous client as they were unpacking groceries together.  Very rich people didn’t show off how much money they had. They didn’t have to. They tended to be quietly generous and classy about it. People who acted like they were still trying to prove something, they might be well-off, but they weren’t rich rich. 

Lizzy herself had fallen for it in the beginning, but as time went on, increasingly often she began to suspect that Hammond was the latter. Everything for show. Dress for the job you want, not the job you have.

She caught sight of the man himself in the corner of her eye, amber-topped cane in hand, and remembered the reason she was enduring such torture in the first place. To secure better care, more money specifically for the dinosaurs. Lizzy tottered over, tugging the hem of her dress down as she approached. 

“John?”

He turned and looked at her blankly. She knew what he was thinking. You weren’t on the guest list. 

”It’s me, Lizzy.” She could forgive him a few moments hesitation, she’d probably never worn this much make-up in her life.

“Lizzy?” 

She began to get annoyed. What happened to ‘my dear old granny was a Lizzy’? Anyway, she’d always considered herself fairly memorable.

This was not a good start. 

“Doctor Armstrong? From Namibia?” She gestured helplessly, at a loss for what else she could say to jog his memory. “The ethologist.”

“It’s Mr Hammond, tonight, dear. If you don’t mind.” 

“Alright-“

“I’m fairly busy, I’m afraid. Why don’t you go and mingle? We’ll catch up later.”

“Wait, no-“ Lizzy knew well enough that there most likely wouldn’t be a later.

“Please, Miss Armstrong. Another time.” And he gently took her arm and guided her away, leaving her all alone, facing the wall as he resumed his conversation. 

Not quite sure how she had lost her hold on the situation, Lizzy vowed to try a different tactic. As she was busy scanning the rest of the venue for anyone who might be worth talking to, she didn’t notice one of the businessmen swanning over to her, until it was too late to get away. 

“Where’s Hammond been hiding this one, then?” American. Mid-West. Sweating profusely. “Forget the ice sculpture, why didn’t they just put you up on the table?”

Lizzy recoiled. “I’m a scientist.”

“Ah, she’s funny too. Not dressed like that, you aren’t.”

Lizzy really wasn’t a fan of being referred to in the third person.

”Really, she’s a PhD.” She flushed in anger. “She studies animal behaviour.”

And you’re behaving like an animal.

”Wait-“ He pointed at her face, closely scrutinising. “-I know you from somewhere-“

Not again.

In yet another event from her past that occasionally came back to haunt her, Lizzy had undertaken a couple of modelling jobs as a first-year student at NYU.

Nothing big. One or two jobs for the campus magazine, then it had kind of snowballed. She didn’t even know what some of the photographs were ultimately used for. But her face, and the rest of her, was definitely in print for something other than behavioural research. It offered a few extra dollars here and there, until Simon had asked her to stop, telling her she didn't have to worry about money now she was with him. She'd obliged, but it had been kind of fun, at the time.

It happened more than once in New York, sometimes a stranger, usually an older man, most likely on the subway would give her a funny look. She’d know exactly why, and she’d huddle closer to Simon and try not to make eye contact before they reached their stop.

New York and a tiny Costa Rican island, it seemed. Just her luck.

”No, you don’t!” She insisted and turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist and she had no choice but to turn to face him to keep herself from toppling over in her high heels. 

”How much-“

His grip hurt. Lizzy looked around in panic, searching for Ed Regis in the crowd. She didn’t want to make a scene, but if there was no other choice…Ed would help her, right?

Right?!

“Hey, back off, pal. The only one who gets to talk down to her is me.”

From somewhere close behind her came the low Southern drawl she both looked forward to and dreaded equally. The voice she hated being on the wrong side of, the one that meant trouble, had antagonised her time and time again. And she’d never been so glad to hear it defending her. 

Tom’s hulking frame cast a long shadow over both Lizzy and the strange man who was intent on getting to know her better.

“Look, here-“ The investor was bristling at the intrusion.

”Move along, now, buddy.” Tom gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, a little bit harder than was polite or necessary, but not enough to get him into trouble. “Trust me, you don’t wanna find out the price for this one. It’s measured in rounds, and I don’t mean at the bar.”

The stranger grunted unhappily and finally beat it, avoiding looking Lizzy in the eye. 

She relaxed slightly, her hands trembling. The smell of old cigarette smoke and cheap aftershave had never been so reassuring. 

“About damn time.” She tried to act breezy, but the words sounded forced. Lizzy was more shaken than she'd care to admit. She glanced down at her wrist, red finger marks already burned harshly into her skin. Shit.

”Ma’am.” Tom tipped the brim of his stetson towards her without the slightest trace of irony. He had gone all out for the occasion, wearing a bolo tie, white shirt, dress jeans with a big belt buckle and leather boots. A real-life cowboy.

Lizzy cleared her throat, trying to restore her bravado. “Didn’t know there was a fancy dress shop on the island. Where’s your tinfoil sheriff’s badge?”

“You get straight to Hell. This is my good stetson. I’ve not worn this baby since prom night.” He flicked the rim. “You realise how privileged you are, getting to see me in my good stetson, right?”

”You have more than one?” She stifled a giggle. “Didn’t know you moonlighted as a Village Person.” “You like a man in a hat.” He winked at her disarmingly, and her steel nerve buckled. 

”Piss off.” She muttered weakly. 

"There it is." Tom grinned in satisfaction. “On that note, what has your man got to say about you hitting the town, all dressed up?”

“Not my man, what are you on about…”

“Ah, I see. He still doesn’t know, huh?” He shook his head, tutting. “You are in so much shit.”

“I do what I like.” Lizzy scowled. “Although I don’t like this. Quite literally taking one for the team.”

“You scrub up pretty nice.” He gave her a sly look. “Trim your moustache, did ya?” “Ha!”

At the other end of the room, Lizzy spied Regis’ ginger head, still wearing his ever-present baseball cap (seriously, at a black tie?), jerk upright at the noise she’d just made. Lizzy quickly turned it into a cough.

“Insults aside, glad you’re here.” She meant it. "Dickhead.”

She meant that too. 

”Save it.” Tom grumbled. “I just didn’t wanna miss the look on Ed’s face when he sees you of all people gatecrashed his fancy event.”

“Keep telling yourself that, mate.” She didn't mind anymore whether he hated her or cared for her. It was a blurry line at the best of times. But she mattered to him, in some way, that much she knew and was grateful for. If he hadn’t intervened when he did…

One way or another, it would have gotten messy.

“How’s An Audience With Hammond going?” He interrupted her thoughts.

”It’s not.” She told him about how she had failed miserably at her mission. “I am very low priority on his list of people to schmooze tonight.”

Tom was eyeing up a tray of glasses making it’s way past them. “In that case, when in Rome-“

She scoffed. “Beginning to see the real reason you’re here…”

“They don’t got bourbon?” Tom grumbled at the sparse choice of red or white. “I hate wine.”

“The single malt is for much, much later this evening-“ The waiter somehow managed to look down his nose at the taller man. “-sir.”

”You’ll get what you’re given.” Lizzy took a glass of each colour and handed him the white. “It’s free.”

”How about a toast?” Tom sardonically eyed the blue InGen banner hung over the door, company slogan in italics beneath the ever-present logo. “To…Making Our Future.”

”Spare no expense!”

They clinked their glasses. 

“Hell with it. Let’s pound as much of this food as we can before they throw us out.”

”That-“ Lizzy waved over a tray of canapes. “-is the best idea you’ve had in weeks.”

***

“He was talking so fast, I couldn’t keep up, and he said Hammond personally asked him to make it happen!” Rico was hurriedly trying to explain as he stumbled into the control room after the park warden. “To show the investors.”

”That may be true.” Muldoon was barely keeping his anger in check. “But there’s a very good reason we stay away from that animal.”

”Not all of us.” Arnold added loudly as he blew smoke upwards, causing Muldoon to shoot him a venomous look. 

“I sincerely apologise, boss.” Rico continued, visibly trembling in fear. “H-how can I make this right?”

”Just stay out of the bloody way. Something like that, you really should have checked.” He dismissed him with a wave of his hand before shouting “Where’s Baker?!”

“Here, I’m here!” Kathy popped up from behind a console. “Ray called me, we’re watching her now. They weren’t kidding, she’s fast.”

Rico went mute, eyes downcast, he took the opportunity to slip out of the control room like a shadow while everyone else was bustling around. Nobody noticed. 

Muldoon moved around to look at the screen beside his colleagues. “Arnold, can you send out an alarm?”

”Manually.”

”That doesn't sound very efficient?"

“It ain't. As in, I’m going to have to go check the manual.” Arnold looked at him pointedly, cigarette dangling. “Or you can just grab a radio and alarm everyone all by yourself.”

”You’ve got to be joking.” Muldoon ground out. “There’s no system in place?”

“Looks that way.”

Meanwhile, Kathy was wringing her hands. All the procedures she’d gone over in her head. All her studying of emergency exits, muster points and evacuation routes. All her carefully constructed contingency plans and she still wasn’t ready for this.

“What are you going to do?” She hesitantly asked.

“What’s required.” Muldoon was looking for the key to the locker in his office. “Don’t interfere.”

Kathy solemnly nodded. “In that case, what do you need?”

“I need my best shot, for backup.” He grabbed his radio. ”Kennedy, come in.”

No response. 

”If anyone can see Kennedy, pass him a radio, now.”

No answer.

What a mess.  Muldoon conducted a quick head count. Only six animal handlers present. Baker-Esteves-Harris-O’Reilly-Palmer-Yamada-

Another was unaccounted for.  “Baker, where’s Armstrong?”

”Er…”

Oh, balls.

Muldoon impatiently took her by the shoulders. “Is she indoors, yes or no?”

”Yes, definitely.” No way would Lizzy be seen in that dress anywhere outside the function room. “Unless-“

His eyes narrowed. “Baker, it’s important for your lifespan that you tell me exactly where she is.”

Arnold had momentarily stopped typing, holding his breath. 

“She’s with Tom. If he smokes, she usually goes too.” Kathy confessed nervously. “I mean, they could be outside?”

***

”Nah, you’re doing it wrong. No chewing, you’ll be there forever. Down in one, like this-“ Tom was trying to show her how to handle an oyster.

Lizzy stared at the cold shell in her palm, the corners of her mouth downturned. ”Tom, it’s looking at me.”  

She’d eaten far more questionable things in her lifetime. But this was turning out to be her Everest. 

”Ah, forget it. These ones are just okay, need some tabasco.” He took the offending mollusc from her and swiftly dealt with it. “Better barbecued fresh, out on the water.”

“If you say so.” Lizzy wasn’t convinced. Sub-par oysters, she’d rather not take the chance. Yet more cracks were appearing in the InGen foundations. 

A very familiar silhouette caught her eye, making his way through the crowd to their secret corner of the room with purpose. He’d clearly spotted Tom’s stetson from the doorway. 

“Uh-oh, busted.” Lizzy whispered as Muldoon drew level with them both.

“Kennedy. With me, now.”

Lizzy tutted. He was clearly dismissing her as ‘just some girl’ Regis had flown in for the night that Tom had decided to try his luck with. It must have been the heels giving her an extra couple of inches that was throwing him off.

“Tom, I think you’ve pulled.” Lizzy nudged his arm. Muldoon did a double take at the familiar voice, only recognising who she was the second time around.

“Oh Christ, it’s you.” He frowned. “What’s happened to your face?”

“Rude.”

“Don’t like it.” He was looking her up and down in disbelief. ”And I can bloody well see what you had for dinner-“

“Stop staring at me.” Lizzy hissed through gritted teeth. “Surprise, I do in fact have a waist under the tattie cloths they pass off as uniforms.”

“Of course. Your waist is what’s drawing the eye.”

He wasn’t at all a fan of the look, but he still couldn’t drag his gaze away from her with everything…pushed up like that.

”Aw, Jesus.” Tom seemed genuinely upset. “Not cool, boss.”

”Why are you two in here, anyway, without your radios on?” Muldoon recalled the memo Regis had flashed around about keeping a certain animal handler away from the event at all costs. “No, never mind. I don’t actually care.” 

“I would love to know-“ Lizzy remarked sweetly. “-where exactly I would be keeping a radio on my person, in this thing.”

”Talking out your ass, no doubt-” Tom muttered. 

Another of the investors had broken off from the herd and started to sway his way over, bleary eyes fixated on Lizzy, and the parts of her body the dress wasn’t quite managing to cover. She could already see the words say, you look familiar forming in his head as she began to back away in fear. 

But she wasn’t alone this time. Both Kennedy and Muldoon abruptly stopped what they were doing and gave the interloper a hard stare so intimidating that he about-turned and wobbled straight back the way he’d came without uttering a single word to anyone.

Muldoon shook his head, looking like his motor was rapidly winding down. “Christ alive, I need to get out of here. I hate this sort of thing.”

Lizzy cocked her head. He doesn’t do crowds.

“So if you’re both done wasting time-“ He continued.

She quickly sobered, not averse to making a quick getaway herself. “What’s wrong?”

There was a faint rumble of thunder from outside and the overhead lights dipped and came back on with a flicker. The drone of conversation around them lulled, then resumed.

The next thing the park warden said made Lizzy’s ears ring and edges of her vision darken as the adrenaline kicked in. 

“Don’t react, either of you-“ Muldoon dropped his voice low enough that she had to crane her neck to hear him. “-but there’s an animal loose in the park.”

Son of a- Tom was already pushing past Lizzy, making his way to the exit doors, the sea of businessmen parting before him as he cleared a path.  

“Don’t react. I said don’t react.” Muldoon quickly turned to follow him. 

“Hang on-“ Lizzy caught up before he moved out of reach. “Which animal?”

Muldoon gave her a certain look while saying nothing, which told her everything.

Lizzy knew exactly which animal had broken out. 

“Oh-“ She reached for the wall to steady herself as the lights flickered off again and thunder boomed over the island. “Oh, no.”

***

Thanks for reading!

If you worked out what this chapter is leading up to I will personally send you a gift basket or something.

[musepondersthings]

Here is EXCITED RAMBLINGS with Muse over a VERY SWAG Nanami fic written by pennjammin here on tumblr, you can find the fic here! Please go check their work out!

(Preface: this ramble is ripped directly from my notes app! No editing done besides text breaks, this is my live reaction to everything)

Thus begins the: “EXCITED MUSE RAMBLINGS” vol. 1, formatted on tumblr mobile.

Establishing a relationship and a dynamic between the reader and Nanami early on is great, specifically the reader being very involved in supporting his family as he works. It’s a genuine act of kindness! To go above any beyond as a support for him and already know his close family. To me it feels like it makes the picture more fleshed out and their relationship has an added layer of depth. I don’t blame reader for having a crush on dilf Nanami.

Reading over the situation, Nanami HAS to know about Reader’s feelings, if they’re being super obvious about it, he’s not one to miss those sort of things. Knowing him he likely thinks he HAS to have a professional boundary between him and reader, and doesn’t want to mix those aspects of his life. Oooh but reader is showing up at his party, where there’s probably going to be alcohol and he’ll be less guarded…

AWWW HERE HE IS!!! The dad joke is adorable, Nanami’s introduction is well done. He’s looking scrumptious tho. Yes wow he’s super unguarded, he’s being very open with reader. He has to be SMASHED right now, given how he’s described and his general demeanor, he’s much more laid back that usual. The talk about his kids and the wife fits perfectly. A call back to established relationship fits like a glove here. I enjoy the sllllow burn and establishment of prior events. I’m a sucker for lore and world building.

Good god Nanami is head over heels for reader. I can sense it. The way he treats them compared to his other workers is special, not that he treats his workers badly, but how he talks to them is notably more laid back, and dare I say, intimate. The introduction of Agnes and how he dealt with the girl talking to him really shows off the magnitude of his feelings, intended from him or not.

The reader’s thoughts are so captivating to me. The obsessiveness of putting themselves down for their crush yet leaning so far into it, makes me want to yell to em that their feelings are valid!!! /pos.

Augh Nanami is so sweet!! “Meanie” he is DRUNK drunk oh my lord. Despite everything he’s trying so hard to make reader comfortable and this shows how much he truly cares for them. Even while drunk, at a party he’s hosting, he takes time to take reader aside and listen to them and talk. The moment where reader says they should get to know each other better is nice, I enjoy the brief exploration of their relationship which has been “professional” thus far. Professional in quotes due to reader being HEAD OVER HEELS for Nanami and him acting like he doesn’t realize they’re flirting.

Said exploration attempted by the reader is cut off by Nanami approaching reader with a bluntness only alcohol can draw from him thus far lol. I find it interesting that their roles are reversed in this moment, he’s being very obvious while they’re “ oblivious” (not truly).

The sheer hunger of this man to eat reader out is astounding. He’s on readers level of adoration, if not more. He was just really good at hiding it.

HE STILL. TAKES TIME. TO BE NICE. AND DOUBLE CHECK FOR CONSENT. Consent is HOT!! The way he moves when given the word really shows how long he’s been waiting, he takes off their clothes so quickly, in three swift moments. How Nanami shuts down reader’s self deprecation of their body, how he needs *verbal consent* and double checks if they’re okay just melt my heart.

Christ, he’s so good at this reader is speechless, honestly I would be too. Being very conscious about how his actions affects them is refreshing to see.

There is such tenderness in Nanami’s actions and words even while he’s being mean. This is a very intimate act, there’s truly love and care there, and it just amplifies the entire thing. The slow buildup of trust, the comfort of being able to share fantasies and indulge in them together is delicious. The descriptions here during this scene has me captivated, just wonderful.

This moment of Nanami confiding just how MUCH he cares for reader and wants to have them a part of their family… it brings tears to my eyes. The passing of power, the amount of trust that takes, how he wants to repay reader is so wonderfully loving. The sex is so *hot*, and love they both feel for each other is always there. They play off of each other nicely both in and out of the bedroom, Reader awakening a breeding kink in Nanami catches him so off guard, they both can read each other like a book!

The after sex conversation is so down to earth, checking in, affirming that he only intends for this side of him to be for reader. It’s so tender. Both a heartwarming and sexy fic. I would read like. A novel about them.

This concludes “MUSE’S EXCITED RAMBLINGS” vol. 1

[archeracy]

I'm sorry that you have apparently unresolved psychological issues (you reblogged a post that implies that children committing assault is some kind of ingrained male trait jfc) but having orgasms does not rewire your brain and I think maybe you should consider therapy for whatever it was that drove you to that conclusion instead of seeking refuge with the radfems who are teaching you shit like that

There’s nobody who has *no* psychological issues, but I’d say overall I’m doing okay. I don’t actually have any sexual trauma. Not because I’m special in any way—I’ve just genuinely been lucky thus far.

Radfems didn’t “teach me shit like that.” Grad school professors taught me that. Working professionals taught me that. Doing clinical research taught me that. I wrote my undergrad thesis on the topic, then pursued it further in grad school in a master’s program that was quite focused on that field of study.

I actually went into grad school assuming I’d focus on femicide/women who get murdered (which, spoiler alert, still sours you on men, the overwhelming majority of murderers) but then I did my internship working with sex offenders and realized there was a much greater need for people specializing in that.

I don’t really tell people details about what it’s like to work with sex offenders because honestly? It’s gross as fuck. If you don’t need to know the online slang offenders use to describe their child sexual abuse material, you really should’t have to ever know it. I’m not gonna teach people things they’ll wish they hadn’t learned. Even while maintaining clinical distance and having a good work/life balance, it’s still nauseating.

Regardless, I’ll say this much: more research needs to be done on the impact of pornography, but most of it is showing negative impacts. Especially for young people. Especially for young boys. Adults aren’t immune either (viewing violent porn is unlikely to make someone become violent but does increase the likelihood that they condone violence/victim blame), but kids are really susceptible to the influence of pornography. Americans don’t get good comprehensive sex education. Pornography IS sex education for our youth, and it IS a public health emergency. And yes, the euphoric experience of an orgasm does have the capabilities to condition you.

The reason research is difficult on this topic is that you can’t ethically have a control and experimental group. That would require people to watch illegal and disturbing material (like CSAM/CP) and test how they respond, which is unethical to them AND the victims in the CSAM itself. So obviously we don’t do that. We have to observe people who already did so of their own accord. I have yet to meet a hands-on offender who doesn’t cite their pornography experience as a major factor in their lives. I’ve also looked at their internet history, and you better believe it’s the most vile shit you can imagine. Starts on your average MindGeek porn site, stimulus gets habituated, and they seek out worse and worse material.

Anyway for people who actually want to know more please feel free to message me any time and I can send links to articles and studies. I’m always happy to talk more about my research interests.

[wayward-dreamer]

Coffee & Chaos - Part 6 (FIN)

Pairing: Producer!Jensen x Fem!Screenwriter!Reader

Word count: 1,710

Summary: Y/N starts working at Chaos Machine Productions, finding joy in the work and fitting in instantly. She knows she could really thrive in the company, as long as she doesn’t fall for her boss, the executive producer and founder, along the way. Little does she know he’s trying to suppress his feelings, for the sake of professionalism, too.

Warnings: Swearing, a little bit of angst, fluff

A/N: The last part! I hope you all like it, and thank you so much for all the love for this mini-series! Happy reading and enjoy! :) beta’d by my love @evergreencowboy​.

Series Masterlist

Y/N sighed heavily as she pressed the play button on the voicemail that had been left on her phone.

Y/N, it’s Jensen. Listen… I don’t understand what happened back there, but please let’s just talk about it. If I did something wrong… I’m really sorry, darlin’. Just call me back, okay?

She pressed the trash button, deleting the message and moving onto the next one.

Hey, it’s me again. I just want to talk to you. Make sure you’re okay. Please call me back.

She closed her eyes as she leaned back in her chair at the table, running her hands down her face to wipe away the tears that had started. She had made a mess of everything, and she had no clue how to fix it. She loved the job she was doing, and she could very well have to give it up just because she couldn’t control her feelings for her boss. She never should’ve gone into the office to talk to him. She should’ve let it go, gone home and forgotten about why she was mad. At least that wouldn’t have led to them having sex on his desk. Sweaty, sensual, passionate, needy, rough sex that had kept her up all night with all the images that replayed in her mind.

What was worse, was that Jensen was clearly under the impression that he had done something wrong, and they couldn’t be further from the truth. He was in no way to blame for her getting so desperate for him that she couldn’t walk out of that office. If she had left before things progressed, she wouldn’t have been considering her future at Chaos Machine Productions that morning.

She had to leave before someone found out what happened, somehow. No good would come from her staying at the company, and she had to move on. No matter how much she really didn’t want to.

It was the right thing to do after the chaos she had caused.

Jensen stared up at the ceiling of his home office, his head pressed back against his desk chair as he gnawed at his lip. He had been trying to work to distract himself from the situation with Y/N, but his mind was too occupied to concentrate on anything in front of him. He had left her message last night and earlier that morning, and she hadn’t responded yet. It was a Saturday, and she had only taken a few things home with her to work on, so he knew she wouldn’t be that busy. He knew he needed to talk to her, but he wasn’t sure if he should go to her house, not wanting to corner her in any way.

Things were definitely more clear now, almost 24 hours after everything went south. He was sure what happened was what they both wanted, and maybe she was just scared of any possible repercussions. He had to hope that was all it was.

Looking down at the time on the computer screen, he saw that it was almost 7pm. He had spent the whole day in that office and he really needed to get up and stretch his legs. Deciding that he had to take the leap, he looked up Y/N’s address from the company files he had a copy of his home computer, standing up from the desk once he had put it in his phone.

If she asked him to leave, then he would do it, but he had to fix things between them before it was completely unsalvageable.

Y/N poured herself a generous amount of wine into a glass, carrying it over to her couch and sitting down with her legs tucked under her. She hummed contently as she took a sip, extremely glad that it was finally at a decent hour in the day when she could switch from coffee to wine. She had Thai food on the way, and she wanted to find something on Netflix that would distract her from how she had been feeling all day. She was angry at herself for what she had done, and she was sad too. She wasn’t ready to leave the company that she had loved to be a part of so soon.

She was really going to miss the work, and the people, especially Jensen. Even if her feelings for him had been the reason for this mess in the first place.

The doorbell ring echoing through the house made her frown, as she stopped flicking through all the titles on Netflix. She placed her glass on the coffee table and stood up, her bare feet padding down the small hallway to the front door. She gasped as her eyes widened once it was opened, seeing Jensen on the other side.

“Hey,” he greeted her, that timbre of his voice reigniting the heat within her instantly.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, softly as she gulped. She was nervous to be around him, knowing she had no control of what she felt for him.

“Well, you haven’t called me back despite me asking you to, twice, so I thought I should pay you a house call,” he explained, his green eyes locked on her.

“Jensen, I…” she sighed, shaking her head, unsure of how to say what she needed to say.

“Y/N please, let’s just talk about this, okay?” he reasoned.

Pressing her lips together as she thought it over, she nodded slowly. “Okay.”

She stepped aside and let him step into the house, closing the door and leading him into the living area. She turned back to face him, her hands nervously twisting each of her fingers as she dropped her gaze to the floor. She was afraid of where this conversation would go, and she didn’t want to upset him in any way. Before she could open her mouth to speak, he was right in front of her, his curled finger under her chin tilting her head up to look into his eyes once more.

“I was so sure that what happened was what you wanted,” he started, his voice low and husky, working through his thoughts as he spoke. “If I hurt you, did something you didn’t want in any way, please, please tell me.”

She shook her head, feeling tears prick her eyes. “You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want. It was-it was all amazing. You were amazing-”

“Then why’d you run off, darlin’?” he asked, softly.

“I shouldn’t have stayed behind in the first place,” she replied, sniffling as a few tears escaped. “If what we did got out somehow, it could risk things for you and I don’t want that. I couldn’t handle it if I was responsible for your career being in jeopardy. So I… I think I have to leave the company.”

He sighed heavily, fearing she’d want to do that. None of it was her fault, and he was starting to realize it wasn’t his, either. He acted on impulse, and they shouldn’t have done anything at work, but he knew he liked her a lot. And from what she just said, he knew she liked him, too. There was nothing wrong with that. They could keep things secret from a while, until she decided whether she wanted to move onto another production company or was in charge of her own series. She was so talented and capable of anything, and he wanted to be in her life to support her in her dreams.

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” he admitted, never taking his eyes off her as he continued, “I told myself I’d let you go if that’s what you wanted, but I think, even in the short time you’ve been here, I know you. I know that’s not what you want, is it?”

“No,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“Then stay,” he stated, a small smile playing at his lips as he wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “Stay at the company, and everything else will work out. We’ll keep things between us until you want to move on.”

“But what about-” she started but he slowly leaned down, cutting off her words with a soft kiss.

“It’s nothing we can’t handle together,” he muttered against her lips. Lifting his head slightly, his green eyes gazed into hers as his smile widened. “I like you, Y/N. So, so much. Since the day I saw you. And I know in time that I could find myself loving you. I’m ready to give this a shot if you are.”

She beamed as she moved closer to him, her hands clinging to his shirt as she looked up at him. “I really like you, too. I’m ready.”

Jensen chuckled lightly as he leaned down, kissing her passionately as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. She smiled against his lips as the embrace continued, her hands moving up and draping around his neck. The doorbell ringing again made him groan in frustration as he pulled away, looking behind him.

“That’s my Thai food,” she giggled, biting her lip. “Do you… wanna stay for dinner?”

He turned back to her, smirking as he pecked her lips once, twice. “I’d love to.”

They pulled away from each other and he gestured for her to wait, walking towards the door to get the food for her. Y/N couldn’t help the smile that pulled wide at her lips as she thought about the last 24 hours and the drastic way her life had changed. She wouldn’t take one thing back now that it all worked out for the best. She knew that things would be difficult as they kept their relationship secret, but she was more than willing to try with Jensen by her side.

She got to keep the job she loved, stay with the people she had become close with, and be with the man she had fallen for on the very first day at Chaos Machine Productions. If someone had told her all of this would happen when she moved to L.A., she wouldn’t have believed them. But she knew one thing for certain.

She wouldn’t change a single moment.

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C&C: @spnfamily-j2​ //

[dzthenerd490]

I have some complaints about certain things in the SCP:HMF. In your au, you explained to me that there were “foundationist” basically immortal fascists of the foundation. I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t like the “foundationists”. Like it is so strange to have the staff being immortal and being huge jerks against regular humans, it feels so out of place, it feels like they belong in a different canon of your AU. I also don't like how it is achieve so easily, yes there probably is a SCP that easily do it but I don't like how 05 just easily does it like you said they really don't care but they should because there is literally a canon where the foundation realizes that death is a necessary part of life. The cannon is called “The End of Death” if you are wondering. 

This brings me to my second problem, which is the portrayal of the global occult coalition. Like you portray the GOC as just typical genocidal maniacs that want to kill all anomalies in the world. Like the foundations are supposed to be the protagonist of the HMFverse, however because of the Foundationist thing of them wanting to recreate a SCP-5000, like how can I root for them? I support the GOC more because of those “facists”.

I don’t blame you for just portraying the GOC as “KILL ALL ANOMALIES” it's that how they were written back in the early days of the SCP wiki. Nowadays, GOC should be a professional, elite organization as the anomalous wing of the UN and essentially a global organization with the governments of world powers supporting it and should be as powerful and well equipped (if not moreso) than the Foundation. 

 The GOC are anomalous themselves (literally made up of 108 paranormal organisations, religions, and other groups), their leader is D. C. al Fine, a shapeshifter, thaumaturgist, and ontokinetic. Heck in the canon UNFOUNDED (basically a canon where the SCP Foundation doesn’t exist and the GOC are the protagonist) she is a grown up version of Sigurros.  

And to the extent of which they destroy anomalies. In most cases when said anomalies are inherently dangerous and can't be reasoned with. As a matter of fact they are pretty cool with people with powers living normally as long as they don’t use said power to hurt people.

Woah! Okay let's get to work I'm going to chop down your main points to answer them but please be aware I am in no way disregarding any of the details of your points I'm just organizing my answers.

Your Point on Foundationists - I actually forgot about the "End of Death" Scenario when I was coming up with the immortality thing. I just didn't want time to be a hinderance since I do have a timeline in SCP: HMF and figured it was stupid that the Foundation had so many ways to strengthen and rejuvenate the vitality of its employees, yet it was only ever reserved for the O5. That was mainly my own frustration in manifest.

HOWEVER, I also have other things planned for the Foundationists which is why I won't be getting rid of them or the immortality concept, sorry.

But you made a good point though, and it has got me thinking about how I should potray the Foundationist's form here on out. I'll keep it in mind. Thanks!

Your Point about the GOC - ... Okay I have a confession to make I don't like the GOC. I know you're a GOC fan, but I don't like them I actually hate them. since there with the UN I think of them as politicians and Bureaucrats that waist time, not focusing on the real issue, and often make things worse for everyone even themselves.

Yeah, I know the GOC has anomalies within it, I've made it a rule that they make exceptions for SOME anomalies (mostly more human looking ones). I've been trying to find something or think of an OC SCP that could possibly work with being allies with the GOC instead of the SCP Foundation, but I haven't got much except for some Resident Evil characters (minor spoiler, though I won't say who).

The main reason I made the SCP Foundation describe the GOC as a bunch of gun nuts is because in the Foundation's eyes they destroy opportunity. YES, the GOC doesn't destroy every anomaly the come across but for those they DO destroy the SCP Foundation feels as though it's a loss in potential anomalous science. In the eyes of the O5 even dangerous anomalies can be useful, therefore they want to contain everything anomalous. That's why the GOC calls them Egg heads that send good soldiers to die for suicidal science... or they call them SCP Fucks like everyone else.

I haven't made this clear as of late, that's my fault and your right. I'll try to make more tales in the future where the GOC and the Foundation can have actual conversations and talk about their organization's philosophy to each other rather than just insulting each other.

My overall Response - The Foundationists and the Global Occult Coalition. These are problems I actually already had planned to deal with; HOWEVER, that is not an excuse. I thank you for giving this criticism because one you have actually pointed out a few flaws I didn't consider like the immortality problem which I'll be sure to make a few more tales that will be specifically about that issue. two, now I'm sure to which tales and files to put a rush on after my break. Though I still have the queue so it will take a while... sorry.

But seriously though, thank you so much for your criticism. I know everyone wants to be told their writing is flawless and amazing which I'm guilty of that too but that's just now how it works. For creativity to thrive it must go through new experiences and criticism is quite possibly one of the best experiences as it helps it grow the strongest under criticism. Also being told what works best, that works too... actually I think both works great together. I'll be sure to use yours to make my writing better. Again, thanks!