#like he still feels distinctly Doctor in appearance but also I could meet him at the gay club

[macbethz]

Is ncuti the first Built doctor who. The first absolutely shredded doctor who

#immsooo drunk I love him #I LOVE THIS PHOTO SOOO MUCHV #the more I think abt him the more im like ❤️❤️❤️❤️ #like we had him for 5 min and I am already like I would die for you #warlock wartalks #HIS KILT!! #his fashion feels so distinctly connected to both the gay scene and like specifically modern gay clubwear in a way I really love #like he still feels distinctly Doctor in appearance but also I could meet him at the gay club

[riversofmars]

Hope you enjoy the next lot of twists and turns coming up! :D

Charter 11: Past Prologue

Edinburgh, 2021

“I’m not sure we’re gonna find anything here…“ Ryan scanned the dressing room. It was a very neutral area. Barton was not the sort of person to make himself comfortable anywhere, particularly if it was just for the duration of a speech. “Not like he was here any length of time…“ Ryan’s eyes fell on the only item that wasn’t part of the furnishings. “Unless…“

“Forgot his jacket.“ Graham grinned and picked up the coat that had been flung over the side of an armchair. She reached into the pockets and quickly found what he was looking for: “Wallet.“ He announced, pleased with himself and opened it.

“Anything interesting?“ Ryan asked, looking over his grandfather’s shoulder, just as a business card fell out.

“Card…“ Graham picked it up and read: “Anastasis Project. Rings any bells?“ He turned it in his hand while Ryan gave a shrug. There was nothing else on the card apart from the name.

“Let’s meet up with the others.“ Ryan said, and they took the wallet and the coat with them.

“You didn’t follow him?“ Graham asked surprised when they found the rest of the team waiting outside.

“We’ve attached a transponder to his car but he didn’t exactly sound like he was going to see his contacts, quite the contrary, he’s going to be staying away and laying low.“ Jack explained.

“He’s certainly provided some kind of financial support, even if he’s not directly involved.“ Kate’s voice sounded in their ear-pieces.

“Let’s see where the money goes.“ Martha said and Ryan asked:

“Is there anything referring to an Anastasis Project in his portfolio?“ There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Meanwhile, they passed around the wallet and the business card.

“Not as such… but it seems like one of his research funds is supporting such a project.“ One of the Osgoods spoke at last. “Freelance. No direct ties.“

“Of course, so he can’t be made responsible for it.“ Gwen huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Do we have the address to an office or anything like that?“ Jack asked.

“There is a registered address, yes, probably fake though…“ Kate supplied, sounding doubtful.

“Still worth checking out.“ Ryan shrugged. It was better than returning to base with nothing. Whether they would have admitted it or not, being back in action made them realise how much they had missed it. Maybe they just weren’t made for the quiet life.

——

Demon’s Run, Main Hanger, 52nd century

“You lied to me.“ The Doctor growled at the Master. She took a couple of steps back, bringing some distance between herself and the two men. Her mind was reeling. She should have known better, she had been through it so many times. A little part of her had believed the Master would at least value the idea of a family enough to forgo a blatant lie. She had seen it when Missy had given her condolences upon learning of River’s death. The Master had always respected her relationship with River. It should have extended to their child. Or so she had hoped. Hope was so hard to resist. But in the end, the Master never failed to disappoint her.

“I did no such thing, I had no idea.“ The Master retorted and his voice was surprisingly calm and measured. He watched his doppelgänger, seemingly trying to figure out what was going on. They were identical, that was for sure but there was something unfamiliar about him too. His delight at the novelty of it had passed, now he required answers.

“Oh I see what’s happening, you're getting the wrong end of the stick here.“ The other Master grinned, clapping his hands joyfully. “See, I didn’t expect you to bring him.“ He carried on, gesturing to the Master. “I didn’t expect you, either, Doctor. Not this version of you. Last I saw you, you were so much younger… What happened to your little human friends? I really hope they died. Painfully. Not that he’s any better, mind, but I really hated those two… that mouthy med-tech and the do-gooder linguist… I should really have killed them when I had the chance…“ He carried on, and the Doctor couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. That part of her life had been lifetimes ago. Five lifetimes to be exact.

“What are you talking about?“ She asked, bewildered. She had met the Master so many times since then, when he had been posed as Harold Saxon, when he had been Missy…

“Oh, Doctor, do I have to spell it out for you? Is old age finally getting to you?“ He chuckled patronisingly, and the Doctor looked at the Master she had arrived with, wondering if he might have answers. He looked just as confused as she felt. “You don’t really think I’m the Master, do you? The Master!“ The other man cackled like it was the funniest thing he had heard all day.

“Then who are you?“ The Doctor pressed through gritted teeth. She hated feeling stupid.

“Your greatest enemy, of course.“ He took a dramatic bow which only served to infuriate the Master next to her more. His eyes flashed dangerously as recognition appeared to dawn on him.

“How did this happen?“ The Master took a threatening step towards the other man.

“What are you talking about?“ The Doctor frowned. Perhaps she had been wrong. There was something familiar about the other Master but the more she heard him speak, the less she believed her initial assessment. Something was very wrong here.

“I should have made sure you were dead last time around.“ The Master spat, baring his teeth at the other man whilst clearly contemplating how he would accomplish the feat again.

“Ah recognition at last. If that imbecile can figure it out, surely you can, Doctor. Has it really been so long for you that you don’t remember me anymore?“ The other Master smirked at the Doctor. “The fun we’ve had.“ He giggled, his voice changing slightly. “Gallifrey? The Crucible of Souls? Artron’s Tomb? You were there for that one, too.“ He winked at the Master.

“Spit it out already!“ The Doctor snapped as a terrible thought crossed her mind. It couldn’t be, could it?

“Oh dear, you don’t have the same presence I used to have.“ The man’s voice changed and suddenly sounded an awful lot more familiar to the Doctor. “I’m frightfully hurt, old chum.“ His voice changed again, laughing and then he barked: “Can we just kill her already.“

“No.“ Colour drained from the Doctor’s face. They should be dead. She was sure of it.

“So what are you doing impersonating me?“ The Master cut in, having had enough of the exchange.

“Impersonating you? I think you’ll find I’ve had this face much longer than you! I wear it better too.“ The other man grinned. “Also, I don’t do impersonations anymore, not since… well, the Nine?“ He looked at the Doctor ravelling in the look of shock on her face. “Remember that, Doctor? I impersonated you and then you impersonated me, and that was just embarrassing.“ He laughed as the Doctor just shook her head incredulously.

“You’re lying. The Twelve died on Gallifrey.“ She was sure of it. The Twelve had died in an explosion, their body had never been recovered.

“Yes. I was there. I am the Thirteen.“ The Thirteen smirked, satisfied that finally, the penny seemed to have dropped.

“You can’t be, you are a future version of him.“ She pointed to the Master. Her experiences with the Eleven and the Twelve had been lifetimes ago. Thousands of years of her own life, before the Time War, there was no way he was here now. “I don’t know why I trusted you.“ She snapped at the Master next to her.

“Now that’s something you should never do.“ The Thirteen agreed, enjoying watching them bicker. They would be far easier to deal with if they weren’t working together.

“Just you wait till I get my hands on you.“ The Master snarled at the Thirteen. “Believe what you will, Doctor, but do you not think you might be getting a little distracted from why we’re really here?“ His dark eyes darted around the room. They weren’t alone anymore. Soldiers were lining at the edges of the room, slowly advancing towards them. It was a trap. “Even if that is a future version of me, which I can assure you, it’s not…“

“The very thought…“ The Thirteen chuckled.

“Do you not have something to ask of the nice man here?“ The Master urged and the Doctor overcame her disbelief at the situation she found herself in. The Master had a point. They were here for a very good reason. Regardless of whether this man was the Thirteen, the Master or Rassilon himself, her question remained the same.

“Where is my son?“ The Doctor fixed her eyes on the Thirteen, her voice turning low and threatening. Enough of the games.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?“ The Thirteen feigned shock and grasped his chest. “Did you lose someone precious to you?“

“Whoever you are, you know something.“ The Doctor took a threatening step towards him.

“Well, he’s not here if that’s what you’re asking.“ The Thirteen gave a dismissive wave. “In fact, Doctor, I hadn’t really planned for this detour.“ He gestured around the room. “But it does get one thing out of the way…“

“What’s that?“ The Doctor shot back.

“You.“ the Thirteen grinned, and as if on cue the soldiers pointed their guns at her and the Master.

“Thanks for bringing her here, really, couldn’t have calculated it better myself.“ The Thirteen gave the Master a grin. “And just to be perfectly clear, Doctor, that we’re not the same person? I’ll have him killed, too.“ He glanced back to the Doctor who was looking around. The TARDIS was not far behind them. Was there time to turn and run? But if they ran, they wouldn’t find out what he knew.

“I will tear you limb from limb this time around.“ The Master’s eyes flashed dangerously as he recalled killing the Eleven. It was a bit of a blur, too many of his past selves had been present, but he recalled the deed well enough to be sure it happened. This time, he would make sure he couldn’t regenerate.

“What was it you said last time we met about compassion?“ The Thirteen looked to the Master. “I distinctly remember your lady version saying you weren’t without it… Well, I am. Which is why I will win and you will lose.“ He smirked.

“Still think that’s me?“ The Master looked to the Doctor who was at a loss for words.

“I…“

“Any clever ideas, Doctor?“ The Master stepped closer to the Doctor as the guards advanced further.

“The Doctor and the Master, sitting in a trap, K I L L I N G.“ The Thirteen sang. “No, doesn’t really work.“ He huffed. “Open fire on my mark.“ He called his men.

“OI!“ A female voice called out and suddenly an explosion rocked them, and the hangar filled with smoke.

——

Demon’s Run, Holding Cells, 52nd Century

“Here we go…“ River mumbled, connecting one last cable, as the force field turned off. “You'll be a good boy now, okay?“ She mumbled and pressed a kiss to her son’s head. This wasn’t exactly the right environment for a newborn but she didn’t have a choice.

There was an explosion somewhere, and alarms started wailing.

“Sounds like it’s the right time to get out of here.“ River soothed her son as he started crying because of the noise. She held him close as she walked down the corridor. She had to find a way off this space station. Her best bet would be the hangar bay.

“Professor Song!“ A voice called behind her suddenly and River whipped around as it was familiar and welcome.

“Madame Vastra!“ River exclaimed as she spotted the lizard woman who was just climbing out of a maintenance hatch.

“You’re… alive…“ Vastra marvelled at seeing her like this. Not just a consciousness trapped on a data stick but alive and whole and with her son in her arms. The relief and joy Vastra felt in that moment overshadowed all past anguish up until this point.

“Courtesy of my captors.“ River answered with a smirk as she stepped closer while Vastra helped another woman out of the tight hatch who River hadn’t met before. She could only presume she was a friend at the obvious relief on her face, too.

“Are you okay? Both of you?“ The girl asked, straightening herself up next to Vastra, and River nodded. Perhaps getting off this rock wouldn’t be so difficult after all, now that the cavalry had arrived.

“Professor, I’m so sorry, we tried…“ Vastra felt the overwhelming urge to make her apologies. She reached out and touched the little boy’s head, hoping to convey her deep regret for having failed to protect him.

“It’s okay, we’re okay, shall we chat later? And get out of here first?“ River gave her an encouraging smile. She didn’t blame her, how could she? Without knowing any details of what had happened, she knew that Vastra, Jenny and Strax would have done their utmost to keep her child safe. If they had failed to do so it could only have been through overwhelming odds. And now they had come to their rescue. They were the most loyal of friends. “I imagine we will have company soon. I may have tripped some alarms when I broke out of my cell.“ River pointed out the flashing lights and sirens while she tried to calm her son down.

“This way. We have a ship.“ Vastra nodded in agreement, and they rushed down the corridor. They had no time to lose.

“Now, now, Melody, can’t leave you alone for two minutes.“ They came to an abrupt halt as Madame Kovarian, backed by numerous soldiers, appeared at the top of the corridor they were heading towards.

“Yaz, take the long way around, take her to our ship!“ Vastra pulled her sword from its sheath and grabbed a blaster with the other. “Now!“

“But what about…“ Yaz started protesting.

“I will buy you some time, go!“ Vastra insisted, staring down the guards that were advancing towards them.

“Vastra!“ River grabbed her friend’s arm. They had to get out of here, they had to run, but they should be doing it together. She could risk her son getting injured. As much as River wanted to fight and finally, finally put an end to Madame Kovarian, her mother's instincts gripped her more tightly. She had to keep her son safe.

“It’s okay, you two go and don’t look back! I will find Jenny and Strax, we will make our own way. NOW GO!“ Vastra insisted with steely determination.

“I will find a way to come back for you!“ River promised hastily.

“GO!“ Vastra snapped and Yaz grabbed River’s arm. There was no arguing with Vastra.

“Thank you.“ River breathed and allowed herself to be pulled along.

——

London, 2021

“Dead end.“ Jack huffed, looking around. They found themselves in front of an empty plot with nothing but a post box in a dodgy area of town. They hadn’t all been able to go. Edinburgh to London was quite the track so they had decided to split up. Mickey, Martha and Gwen had returned to the Torchwood hub while Jack had taken Ryan and Graham for a ride with his vortex manipulator. Three was the limit, despite various modifications. “Thought it might happen. Nothing but a company shell…“ Jack carried on as they walked onto the abandoned plot. There was a bit of rubble and grass but nothing much. It was wedged between two warehouses.

“But then why have the card?“ Ryan mused, turning it in his hand.

“Why indeed.“ A voice sounded and suddenly the three men found themselves surrounded by four thugs that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

“What the…“ Jack reached for his gun but before he could do so, they each had one pointed at their heads.

“See, we might not be able to make you disappear easily but that doesn’t mean we make you disappear another way. You can be useful after all. We need some new subjects.“ One of the men grinned, and the Torchwood agents realised they had fallen into a trap.

——

Demon’s Run, Main Hanger, 52nd Century

It was utter chaos but the Doctor quickly figured out what was happening when he heard a familiar voice yelling:

“DIE ALIEN SCUM!“

“Strax?!“ The Doctor yelled through the smoke, ducking a laser blast, one of the few things visible in the smoke.

“Not to worry, Doctor, we’re here!“ Jenny called back and they found each other quickly, following the other’s voice.

“How did you get here?“ The Doctor asked surprised and delighted at once.

“Could ask you the same thing!“ Jenny retorted looking around not to get caught out. For the time being, Strax appeared to be doing an excellent job of dealing with the soldiers.

“We thought this might be where they’ve taken my son.“ The Doctor answered quickly.

“Well, I don’t know about that, but it’s definitely where they took your wife.“ Jenny replied quickly and pulled the Doctor behind a crate. She fired at two soldiers that emerged from the smoke dangerously close to them.

“My wife? River is here?!“ The Doctor exclaimed in disbelief. She was in shock, her words barely registered. How could River possibly be here?

“Her consciousness anyway. Some Timelord who calls himself the Thirteen stole it from the Library. We followed him here.“ Jenny carried on to explain.

“So it is him…“ The Doctor mumbled, trying to get things straight in her head.

“Told you, didn’t I, he’s not me!“ The Master found them behind the crate and took cover as well.

“Then why have you got the same face?“ The Doctor shot back angrily.

“I don’t know, Doctor, do I, do you think I’m thrilled he’s running around giving me a bad name?“ The Master bit back just as angrily.

“You do that all by yourself, usually.“ She snapped back.

“And you are…“ Jenny was at a loss for a moment.

“The Master.“ The Doctor answered before he could.

“Right… well, this Thirteen fellow…“ Jenny decided not to comment for the time being. There had to be a good reason for why the Master was here, seemingly with the Doctor.

“Looks exactly like him, you can’t miss him. And we have to find him, I want some answers! And River…“ The Doctor looked out from behind the crate, most of the hangar was still shrouded in smoke.

“We will find her. Vastra and Yaz are looking for her as well. We will get both of them back.“ Jenny explained hastily.

“Touching reunion and all but perhaps we might deal with the more pressing issue at hand? The bomb will go off at any moment.“ The Master announced and instructed: “Everybody get down.“

“What?“ The Doctor looked back at him incredulous. She straightened up a little to glance over the top of the crate but the Master pulled her down.

“Duck!“ He snapped, just as an explosion shook the hangar deck. He had clearly been busy in the moments before rejoining them.

“What the…“ The Doctor shoved him off and stood quickly, assessing the damage. “Why did you do that?“ She shook her head in disbelief at the destruction in front of her. Half the hangar had blown up, emergency force fields had jumped into place where the hull had ripped away.

“How about a ‘thank you Master’?“ The Master scrambled to his feet and brushed off his suit. “I just laid waste to your enemies. It was fun too.“ He grinned.

“Excellent maneuverer, Sir.“ Strax came up behind them, and Jenny let out a sigh of relief upon seeing him. He could very well have been caught up in the Master’s explosion.

“I’m glad someone appreciates it.“ The Master huffed.

“It wasn’t necessary!“ The Doctor snapped, scanning the room. Most of the enemy soldiers were dead, some of the wounded tried to pull themselves up but they seemed to have lost the appetite for fighting. The Doctor quickly realised why: they were leaderless. “Where is he? Where is the Thirteen?“ She looked around, panicked. They couldn’t have lost him.

“Oh I hope I incinerated him… stealing my face, how dare he…“ The Master mumbled and the Doctor turned on her heels.

“I need him for answers!“ She snapped.

“Perhaps I can oblige.“ A voice called from the other end of the hangar and as they all looked around, they recognised Vastra and with her, being shoved along, Madame Kovarian.

“Vastra!“ Jenny called in relief and rushed over to her wife.

“Madame Kovarian…“ The Doctor’s response was more measured as she narrowed her eyes.

“Oh don’t tell me, a new face.“ Kovarian gave the Doctor a once-over and groaned in annoyance. It was bad enough to have her men bested by a lizard woman, this was adding insult to injury. The Doctor came to meet them halfway as Jenny flung herself around her wife’s neck.

“I should have known you were involved.“ The Doctor clenched her jaw, trying her best not to let her feelings overwhelm her. Instead, she decided to focus on the important questions: “Where is River? Where are you keeping her consciousness?“

“She escaped in our shuttle.“ Vastra cut in, letting go of Jenny at last.

“What?“ The Doctor looked at her confused.

“They’re gone, they got away. And it’s not just her consciousness either, they brought her body back, too.“ Vastra explained more patiently. She smiled contently, River would be safe now.

“Really?“ The Doctor didn’t know what to say. A wide grin spread across her face. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. She tried not to let herself get swept away in the excitement, keep a level head until she had actually seen River and made sure that she was okay. But she trusted Vastra and she would never doubt her. River was alive. The reality of it still had to sink in.

“Yaz took her back to our shuttle while I was dealing with them.“ Vastra continued. “And your son, too, Doctor.“ She added more softly.

“He’s here, too?“ Tears of joy jumped to the Doctor’s eyes.

“Oh Doctor, you just keep falling for the same trick, don’t you.“ Kovarian cut in, a cruel smile creeping onto her features.

——

Dorium’s Shuttle, 52nd Century

River collapsed against the bulkhead, cradling her son to her chest. Her hearts were racing in her chest, she tried to catch her breath. They had done it.

“Dorium…“ She gasped a greeting but managed a small smile, despite her exhaustion.

“Nice to see you in one piece, Professor, and in the flesh too, pardon the pun.“ Dorium mirrored her fond expression. He had been sat waiting, unable to do anything to help and it was a relief to see they were being successful.

“We can’t stay, Dorium, Vastra said to go, they will find their own way later.“ Yaz explained as she joined them on the bridge. “We need to get the Professor and her child to safety.“

“Certainly.“ Dorium agreed. “Where to, Professor?“

“Luna University, all my things are there.“ River answered after brief consideration and Yaz nodded, working the controls with Dorium’s help. As soon as the air corridor had detached from Demon’s Run and wheeled in, they set off with a jerk, putting distance between the space station and themselves.

“Are you okay?“ Yaz asked, looking at River who had settled in a chair with her child.

“Getting there…“ River sighed. “I’m sorry, I barely caught your name?“

“Yasmin Khan, friends call me Yaz.“ Yaz answered with a smile, watching her rock her son.

“You’re a friend of the Doctor’s?“ River deduced and she nodded.

“And you’re her wife. And mother to her child.“ Yaz smiled.

“Her?“ River raised her eyebrows, surprised. “My, things have changed… how long have I been in that Library for?“ She shook her head to herself.

“Miss Khan, if you could be so kind and jump us into hyper speed, there is only so much a head can do.“ Dorium said. “I will be very glad if I never have to see Demon’s Run ever again.“

“Likewise.“ River chuckled and Yaz turned back to the controls:

“My pleasure.“

It happened as the stars blurred outside and River screamed. The connection severed. Her son disappeared from her arms, dissolving into a white substance, dripping onto the floor. A flesh avatar.

#Doctor who #fanfiction #river song #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #yasmin kahn #madame vastra #ryan sinclair #graham o'brien #jenny flint #strax #the master #the doctor #the eleven #femslash #space wives #action/adventure #yowzah #river x the doctor #river x thirteen #thirteen/river #dw fanfiction #angst

[olivinesea]

Off Souls, pt. 3

Part 1 Part 2

a/n: We’re back. Things are still serious but maybe not as rough? Let’s call it soft-anxiety. This part and the next were supposed to be one but it got out of hand. So stick with me for a few more feelings and I promise there will be a little action soon. ~3.7k

Some problem solving.

There was no miraculous recovery to their friendship. Things remained tense between the two of them. Emily was on edge for obvious reasons and he still wasn’t sure where he stood with her. The split had shaken his trust more than he wanted to admit. Still, he knew he needed to be there for her. Despite her best efforts he saw how delicate she was right now. He saw her tensing in crowds, grinding her teeth whenever someone brushed past her, hanging back ever so slightly as they entered buildings. He was familiar with all these little grasps at safety. He could have made a list without a second thought. They were all things he had seen his mother do, things he had felt himself doing. Emily was scared and she wasn’t sure when that danger would reappear.

He did what he could, staying close and being mindful about the spaces they went to. He first realized he needed to be more cautious after they tried to go to the dining hall during the midday rush hours. Emily didn’t eat anything. She spent her whole time stiff, searching the faces of the other diners. She had been worried about running into him ever since the first time he had appeared unexpectedly. Now she had to worry about Hotch, too. She distinctly did not want Hotch to know his identity. He was unable to mask his fury whenever the topic surfaced. She knew nothing good would come of their meeting. She appreciated that he wanted to fight for her but what she really wanted was for this to never have happened. Hotch getting involved, bringing some sort of vigilante justice to him, made it much harder to pretend.

Plus she didn’t want him getting in trouble over her. She knew how hard he worked to keep his clean record, his scholarship contingent on high grades and good behavior. In a less concrete way she also knew what it would mean for Hotch’s relationship with his parents if he were to find himself in trouble. He was evasive but had slipped up enough for her to have a rough picture of the Hotchner household. It wasn’t all so so different from her own, she thought. Opposite sides of the same coin perhaps—love that didn’t exist within normal boundaries, too present or too distant. The lonely place in her heart hollowed by frosty absence, his carved out with a heated knife. She didn’t want to be the catalyst for any conflict there.

That first day he found her she had been unable to discuss options. Far too overwhelmed by her current reality, she waved him off when he tried to bring it up and curled into herself in a way that made him kick himself for asking. A couple of days later while they were walking back to the dorms he tried to tactfully broach the subject again only to be surprised by her short reply.

“I’m going in Friday.”

“Oh, ok. Good. That’s good?”

She looked at him, squinting slightly. “Yes? Are you surprised?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, of course not.”

“What? Did you think I wasn’t going to get an abortion? That I was going to have a fucking baby?” She stopped and rounded on him, growing angrier with each word.

He stopped also, but carefully backed up to the side of the path, pulling her gently with him. He dropped his hand when she snatched her arm away. “No. You just didn’t seem like you knew what you wanted to do before. I thought maybe you wanted to talk about it before you decided.”

“I can take care of myself.”

He rubbed his face with his hand, not sure how he had offended her. He spoke through his fingers.“I know, Emily. I just want to be there for you. For whatever you need.”

He looked up and she was glaring at him.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he offered.

She wanted to stay mad. The anger felt good even though she knew it was a little misplaced. She remembered how she had imagined he would look at her once he knew. She hadn’t let herself hope for understanding. She didn’t want to admit it to herself but having him back in her life had been a huge relief. She didn’t have the words to properly express to him what it meant to her that he was there. That he hadn’t hesitated to hold her close, hadn’t questioned or abandoned her.

Now she was acting ungrateful, lashing out at him when he was only trying to help. She had worried he might second guess her decision, have some moral hang up bred of his conservative upbringing. She hadn’t wanted to involve him in this step, didn’t want to need help. She was afraid to discover a limit to the grace he’d given her. She hugged her arms around herself and nodded, feeling too awkward to look at him directly.

“Please.”

“Then I’ll be there,” he said simply and started walking again. She followed a half step behind.

The time between that conversation and Thursday dilated uncomfortably. Every moment she was aware of what was happening inside her: cells collecting and dividing, a slow, sinister act of creation. She knew she couldn’t literally feel what was happening but her skin crawled with the knowledge. If she let herself think about it, it would consume her. Frozen by the thought it felt like hours before she she could move again, only to find just moments had passed. She could only keep track of the passing time by the different foods that were available in the dining hall. Waffles, it must be morning; stir fry, evening again. She followed Hotch around and he led her to class, to eat, back home again.

She looked up from her plate, still filled with untouched potatoes and greens. He was looking at her and she knew he’d asked her a question but she didn't know what it was. She thought she remembered him asking if she wanted more water, though that could have been during a different meal or a dream.

“Yes,” she said, faking confidence.

He stared at her blankly.

“Sounds good.” She hoped she wasn't agreeing to anything serious.

His stare became somewhat anxious.

“I have no idea what you said,” she admitted reluctantly as she looked at her full water glass.

He exhaled sharply, everything still too bleak to laugh. “What time do we need to be at the clinic tomorrow?”

Was it tomorrow already? For her it had been weeks since yesterday and yet only this morning that had been the Tuesday before last.

He waited for her to answer, watching the wheels turning slowly, gears mismatched and stuttering. She pressed her thumb hard against the sharp end of her fork, trying to pull up the relevant information.

“Noon. The appointment is at noon.”

He reached out and touched her hand gently. “Okay.”

They left early to walk to the clinic. Rather than use the campus health center and risk detection by her mother, she found a local clinic about a twenty minute walk from campus. Their walk was quiet, both attempting to appear more stable than they felt. She was eager to be done with this whole experience. He was not sure what to expect, everything about it still a mystery to him. Too uncomfortable to ask questions, he hoped his presence would be enough. As they approached the low cement building, she slipped her hand into his. Only slightly surprised, he squeezed her fingers softly.

They went inside and were struck by the quiet. There were people sitting in about half the chairs, mostly young women. Everyone looked similarly focused, no one spoke unnecessarily. Emily walked up to the counter and gave her name and appointment information. The receptionist was kind, smiling patiently as she stumbled over her words. Once checked-in she was given a clipboard of forms to fill out. She turned to find Hotch still standing awkwardly by the door. She eyed a couple empty chairs between them and nodded to them with her chin. They met at the corner seats and she dropped her bag onto the floor beside the chair as she sat down. He sat a little more reluctantly, still scanning the waiting room.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

She was focused on filling in birthday and address and didn’t register what he said.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know if you wanted me to go up there with you or…” he trailed off. He hated that he was so nervous. He had waited in dozens of rooms like this before, many far more chaotic than this. It was tense in here but it was also hopeful. He stopped looking around and dropped his gaze to his hands in his lap. He traced a nail with his thumb, feeling all the bumps and edges.

She looked over at him, saw the apprehension shadowing his eyes. “I’m going to be ok,” she promised. She was not yet convinced of this but it felt good to say.

He nodded. “I know that. It’s just—“ he swallowed. This was no time to be bringing out his own problems. Regardless of what he wanted though, he could feel his stomach tightening, a conditioned response to the danger presented by medical offices. He hated doctors with their cold gloved fingers pressing into fresh wounds, only to act surprised when he shrank away from the pain. It was always harder to lie when they confused him like that, the sensations blocking out thought. His well-practiced story would seem to slip out of his mind and his mother would look at him, terrified, as he grasped at the correct details. Waiting rooms were not his favorite place to be by a long shot.

She was too involved with her paperwork to notice how he’d retreated into himself. After skipping the section on insurance (it’d be much easier to hide a couple hundred dollars pulled out of her checking account than a claim for abortion on the statements her mother received), she’d come to a form asking more specific questions about her body. She was trying to count back weeks in her mind but kept getting tripped up. She pulled out her phone to look at the calendar and her heart sank when she confirmed the number she had been hoping was a mistake. Had it really been two months? She’d lost so much time.

She finished filling out what she could of the forms and leaned back into the vinyl chair. She did feel more calm now that she was here. The anticipation had been difficult but now all the pieces were in place. She’d gotten herself here, now she could just follow along with the rest of the ride. She leaned her head onto Hotch’s shoulder. Absently he turned his face towards her and kissed the top of her head. His only reflexive act of affection, he had done that to soothe Sean more times than he could count. He had never done it to Emily, however. She closed her eyes and smiled, again thanking the universe that she had somehow earned a friend like him. They waited for her name to be called.

Though she was expecting it, hearing her name still made her jump a little. They both stood up and turned towards the nurse.

“That’s me,” her voice sounded squeaky, unable to get enough air into her lungs.

The woman smiled sympathetically. “I’m afraid your friend will have to wait out here. We can bring him into the recovery room as soon as your done though. Is that going to be ok?”

Emily and Hotch looked at each other, exchanging silent messages. They had known this was probably how it would happen. She didn’t really want him to see her like that anyway. But still, it was hard to let go when she had been spending the past week relying on him to keep herself standing. He knew she would be taken care of but he still didn’t want to let her disappear into the back hallways and exam rooms of the clinic. In his mind the building stretched out infinitely, hallways becoming mazes, folding and twisting into inescapable loops. Once she was beyond that door he wouldn’t be able to get to her quickly; once she was out of his sight, he couldn’t make sure she was safe. What if she needed him and he wasn’t there again?

She settled on a quick hug. “I’ll see you on the other side.” She was trying to be light but it came out sounding grave.

He nodded. “I’ll see you soon, Em.”

She followed the nurse through the door and he returned to one of the stiff chairs, this time deliberately choosing one with a view of both doors. He looked at his watch. It had already been more than an hour. He wasn’t sure how long it was going to be but he figured he could safely assume it wouldn’t be quick. He’d brought a book because the thought of flipping through waiting room magazines made him uneasy. He opened to the scrap of paper he’d been using as a bookmark and stared at the page. His mind refused to focus as he read and reread the same three paragraphs.

Eventually he gave up and leaned his head back against the wall behind him, narrowing his eyes but never fully closing them. No one paid attention to him, everyone there was too tangled in their own personal dramas. He started making lists in his head: adjectives starting with each letter of the alphabet, working backwards from Z, animals that migrated, the different license plates he had memorized. The last one had begun as a way to drown out the fighting as his family traveled to and from his grandparents’ house several hours out of town. He would try to remember each license plate that passed, whispering them to himself in a long string of letters and numbers, an incantation to prevent disaster. It was never clear whether it was ineffective or if his definition of disaster was too small.

Emily was led to an exam room. The nurse checked over her forms, following up on some pieces of information she hadn’t properly addressed. The nurse explained how the procedure was going to work, how the anesthesia was likely to make her feel and what she could expect in the following days. Emily nodded when she was supposed to, affirming that her decision was hers alone. She made fists with her hands to stop from picking at her nails, determined to appear calm and in control. The nurse gently patted her shoulder before she left, promising that the doctor would be in as soon as possible.

As soon as possible wasn’t all that soon it turned out. After sitting nervously at attention for twenty minutes, Emily laid down on her side on the exam table. The white paper crinkled beneath her as she tried to find a good position. She kept an eye on the door, alert to any sound or movement coming from its direction. She didn’t want to be caught sleeping, already feeling far too vulnerable in this place. She stared at the white paint of the door for so long that she started to see shapes floating on its surface. They grew and melted and she was mesmerized by it until suddenly the door swung towards her. She sat up quickly, trying to look as if she had been upright the whole time, but the creased paper gave her away.

This time there were several people that entered. She got more considerate smiles as she was introduced to the doctor, the anesthesiologist, the nurse from before. Again she stayed quiet, just nodding when it was appropriate and wondering what Hotch was doing out in the waiting room. There was more explanation of what was about to happen and she shifted uncomfortably, partly wishing that she didn’t need to know quite so much detail.

Finally things got started. It was not a pleasant position to be in and she second guessed her decision not to choose the at home option. Her dorm room just hadn’t seemed like the best place to try to go through something like this. The promise of a quick procedure, in, out and on with her life had landed her here. In a cold white room, outnumbered by people in white coats and sterile gloves. She felt her heart rate picking up, panic threatening to overpower her. She felt a light touch on her shoulder and turned her head to see the nurse smiling at her.

“You’re doing great.”

Emily closed her eyes. The anesthesia started to work and she felt herself begin to drift. When she opened her eyes the nurse was still there, still smiling at her. She had said something but Emily hadn’t registered it.

“All done,” she repeated.

“Oh,” was all Emily could say. She thought she had only blinked a little long. But sure enough she saw the doctor straightening up the different medical detritus on the counter. The anesthesiologist was busily wrapping up some tubing.

“Let’s get you dressed and over to the recovery room.”

“Is Hotch there?” Emily felt a sudden pang of worry. What if he had left, had decided she was too much trouble after all?

The nurse looked confused for a moment then realized what she was asking. “If you have someone waiting for you we can bring them back once you’re settled.”

Frowning, Emily accepted that answer. If she had someone waiting. Did she? The drugs were making her mind hazy. She remembered coming in with Hotch but she also remembered him being upset. Had he been upset with her? It was hard to be sure when it felt like all her recent memories had been shuffled like a deck of cards.

She let the nurse guide her to another room down the hallway. This room was softer, lacking the metallic equipment and raised exam table. Instead there were a couple arm chairs and one particularly soft looking couch. A side table held individually wrapped snacks and tea bags. Without invitation, Emily dropped onto the couch, leaning heavily against the arm and enjoying the pressure of the cushions behind her.

The nurse asked her if she wanted something to drink but Emily only looked at her with glazed eyes.

“Where’s Hotch?” She did her best not to sound desperate but there was a tremble in her voice she couldn’t contain.

“Ok, I’ll go get him. But think about having something to eat and drink. It’ll help.”

Emily nodded to show she would obey and the nurse left her, closing the door quietly. Emily leaned further into the couch, she was feeling a little nauseous and the colors around her appeared upsettingly bright. She closed her eyes and tucked her face into her arm. She completely forgot about eating or drinking anything.

As the nurse walked Hotch to the recovery room, she listed advice on how to take care of Emily. “She’s going to be tired and probably a little confused for the next couple hours. It’s best to just relax, watch a movie, nothing too strenuous. Make sure she eats and drinks plenty of water. We’re sending home some painkillers if she needs them.”

They reached the door. “Take as long as you need but she will probably be ready to go in half an hour.” She open the door. “Emily?”

Emily turned her face up from where she’d pressed it into the couch. Her vision was momentarily clouded by black spots that scattered in the sudden change of lighting.

“I’ve brought your friend, Mr. Hotchner. He’s going to sit with you until you’re ready to go. I’ll come back and check on you in a little bit.”

Emily nodded vacantly.

Hotch thanked the nurse as she left and crossed the room to Emily, who was still looking dazed. He crouched down in front of her, one hand on the arm of the couch. He looked closely into her face and she stared back at him with her wide brown eyes. She blinked.

“You’re very pretty Mr. Hotchner.”

He snorted, ducking his head, hair falling across his forehead. She reached out to push it back, running her fingers through it.

“So, so pretty.”

“Alright you,” he said, standing up, trying to hide a smile. “Let’s get something in that drug-addled brain so we can get out of here. What sounds good?”

She sat up and shrugged one shoulder. It didn't matter to her, she was just glad he was here. He grabbed a peppermint teabag from the basket and put together some tea for her. She watched him from her spot on the couch as he considered the snack options. He sat down next to her, pressing the paper cup into her hand and tearing open the package of dark chocolate cookies. She yelped when the boiling water burned her tongue.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, looking genuinely apologetic, as if he had intentionally overheated the water. She just shook her head and tilted her face down into the steam coming from the cup. The smell was soothing even if she couldn't drink it yet. She heard crunching next to her and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Those are supposed to be for me.”

“There’s more,” he defended himself, mouth half full.

She laughed and he felt himself relax. He had been painfully on edge for days, probably weeks. She had been so distressed and he hadn’t known what to do to fix it. He hadn’t been sure how this experience might complicate things further. Too familiar with disappointment, he had prepared to find her still broken, still consumed by grief. But here she was, laughing at him again. It was the thing he loved and had missed most about her. He allowed himself to hope a little. Maybe this was going to work out. Maybe they could get past this and everything would be okay again.

~Part 4~

#Criminal Minds #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #college hotchniss

[440mxs-wife]

Merry Ketchmas

Pairing: Arthur Ketch x reader. Other characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 5600-ish (I seem incapable of writing anything short)

Warnings: Slight description of injuries, a kitchen mishap, a little angst but mostly fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was mid-morning, and you were partway through your to-do list for the day. You took a basket of dirty clothes to the laundry room then loaded them into the machine to be washed. You added soap and set the dial for the correct cycle, humming as you left the room.

You had returned to the library and were about to resume reading when the bunker doors flew open. Sam and Dean were trying to maneuver down the spiral staircase, carrying someone in between them.

"Sweetheart?? A little help please?" Dean called.

You ran to the bottom of the stairs to see who was wounded and the extent of the injuries. Your heart flew into your throat as you recognized the man being carried down the stairs. It's Ketch. He's been hurt. Your mind went into overdrive with worry as the trio reached the bottom stair. "What happened?" you asked.

"Werewolf's claws got Ketch in the left leg, and we think he also might have sprained his right ankle," Sam informed you.

"I certainly hope you lads have stocked up on the good anesthetic this time. Not that cheap swill you usually drink," a distinctly British-accented voice drawled.

"All right, I'll meet you guys in the infirmary," you called over your shoulder. You raced ahead of the boys to get everything ready.

"Oh, good, a pretty nurse is here to doctor me back to health. Or, is it a pretty doctor is here to nurse me back to health? Hmm? Lads?" Ketch asked as he began to chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah, pretty nurse, pretty doctor," Dean muttered. "Let's just get you to the infirmary in one piece," he grumbled. Dean was thankful that you were out of earshot before Ketch made his 'nurse/doctor' comments.

By the time the boys arrived in the infirmary, you had the medical supplies set up, such as suture kits and bandages. You also had a washcloth with a basin of warm water on standby.

When they entered the infirmary, you took a quick glance at what you could see of Ketch's injuries. Although he was wearing black pants, you could see the sheen of fresh blood splotches on them. A makeshift bandage was tied around his leg to try and reduce the blood loss.

"All right, fellas, let's get him up on this bed so I can get to work," you directed.

"Darling, shouldn't you allow me to take you out for dinner and dancing first before you get me into bed?" Ketch smirked.

You rolled your eyes at his remark, but your lips were twitching, trying to hold back a grin. You grabbed the scissors to cut his pants leg away so you could see what his wound looked like. You cleared your throat and stared straight into his ocean-blue eyes before speaking.

"Now, be still Arthur, and don't move. If you don't do as I say, I might 'accidentally' slip with these scissors and rid you of something you'd rather keep," you warned. Your voice sounded so ominous that even Sam and Dean backed away from you. "Will you two please hold him so I can cut this away and see what I'm dealing with?" you asked.

From that point on, Ketch mostly behaved himself for the rest of the time it took you to clean his wounds and stitch him up. He was quiet, except for the occasional hiss of pain, at which you mumbled your apologies. Ketch assured you he knew you were doing your best to tend to his medical needs.

You saw that his right ankle was a bit swollen, but determined that it was only lightly sprained. As a precaution, you wrapped it in a flexible bandage, then propped it up on a few pillows to keep it elevated.

As you finished, his adrenaline seemed to have worn off, because he was starting to fall asleep. He was also grumbling about being in pain, so you gave him one of the pain pills from the cabinet. Ketch popped it in his mouth and washed it down with the bottle of water you gave him. You gestured for Sam to hand you one of the extra blankets laying on the other bed. You then draped it over Ketch to keep him warm and from possibly going into shock.

Before you could completely escape, Ketch sat up a bit and caught your hand in his. "Goodnight, Love. See you in the morning," he replied with a drowsy smile, then collapsed back on to the pillow, fast asleep.

You grinned back at the handsome--now snoring--Brit and turned to lean over him. You placed a feather-light kiss to his forehead and directed your attention to Sam and Dean. They both eyed you with quizzical looks on their faces. "What? Oh, shut up," you muttered.

Dean chuckled. "We didn't say anything, did we Sam?" he asked, to which Sam shook his head in amusement.

"Let's just go see about you two idjits, hmm?" you grumbled.

Fortunately, Sam's and Dean's injuries consisted of cuts and scrapes, nothing major or requiring stitches. While they showered and changed clothes, you got to work preparing a pot of chili for dinner. As you put together the components for the chili, you thought about the man currently recovering in your infirmary.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You first met Arthur Ketch after he rescued Gabriel from Asmodeus, and had brought the archangel to the bunker. At the time, Ketch was working for the Prince of Hell as a means of survival after the final battle with the British Men of Letters. When Ketch saw what was happening to Gabriel, he felt it was worth the risk to his own safety to rescue the archangel. Although Ketch wasn't fully trusted by Sam and Dean, he was at least no longer considered an enemy. You, however, had always found him somewhat fascinating.

Arthur Ketch....certainly a handsome devil, with his dark brown, almost black hair and captivating, aqua-colored eyes. His suave and confident demeanor, not to mention that sexy accent drew women in like a magnet. You were no exception, but considering the type of women he was used to being with, you knew you didn't stand a chance. So, you settled for working with him on a few cases here and there. And you tried like hell to keep in mind that his attempts at flirting with you didn't mean a damn thing.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You were so wrapped up in your own thoughts that you didn't even hear Dean come into the kitchen. He placed his hand on your shoulder, which caused you to jump a little, but you quickly recovered. "For cryin' out loud, Dean, warn a girl next time. Scared me half to death," you chided, putting your hand on your heart.

Dean chuckled a little, but apologized for scaring you. "Hey, you okay?" he asked. "You seem a bit distracted right now. Doesn't have anything to do with you having a crush on a certain British patient in the infirmary right now, does it?" he wondered with a smirk.

"I'm fine, Dean. And no, I'm not distra--wait, what are you talking about?!?" you exclaimed.

"I'm talking about your crush on Ketch. It's not like it's the first time I noticed something there, either. Remember that one time you were paired up on that siren hunt, where you were a singer in a nightclub?" he asked. "I could tell that Ketch was definitely 'intrigued' as he would say," Dean remarked.

Sam appeared in the doorway, and had heard what his brother said to you about Ketch. "Yeah, I remember that case. He seemed like he was interested in you, told me that you had the 'voice of an angel'. AND said he was a bit jealous of the guys in the audience you paid attention to during your performances," Sam added.

You continued to stir the chili, not exactly sure what to say to Sam's and Dean's remarks. You remembered the hunt they were talking about. At one point, you thought there might have been something between you and Ketch. Then as soon as it was there, it also seemed to quickly disappear, as did the man himself. Today was the first time in months that you had seen or even heard anything from Arthur Ketch.

"Guys, I hear what you're saying, but I don't think he has any 'feelings' like that for me. Anyway, he's used to being with a higher caliber of female companion. You know, more worldly and refined. I'm just....me," you finished softly.

"Sweetheart, you know--" Dean started but you interrupted.

"No, Dean. I'd really rather not talk about it anymore, so change of subject. Christmas is coming up, and I want to know, what kinds of special foods do you guys want me to make?" you asked, then held up your hand. "Before you say it, Dean, I already know you want pie. I'm asking for other ideas, because I'm starting a supply list," you said.

The boys each thought about it while you continued to work on making dinner. In the end, Sam requested chicken wings and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. In addition to pie, Dean requested meatballs with barbecue sauce and chili-cheese dip.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You wondered if you should ask Ketch about his food preferences, but you didn't want to wake him. With any luck, he was still getting that much-needed rest from his werewolf encounter. With his injuries, there was no way he was going anywhere until well after Christmas, possibly even New Years.

After some research, you found that there were some subtle differences in American vs. British traditions at Christmas. To pull this off, you would be needing supplies not only from the supermarket, but also from a craft store. You made note of these items as you worked.

Making this happen for Ketch had grown to become very important for you. Chances were, it had been a long time since he'd celebrated Christmas properly, if at all. You were determined to show him that he has a family of sorts with you and the Winchesters.

For your grocery list, you wrote down what you would need based on what Sam and Dean had told you earlier in the day. You added a few things for yourself, like for making cinnamon rolls and a breakfast quiche. Your list also included a small turkey, parsnips, Brussels sprouts and tea as items for a British Christmas meal.

In addition to the food, you needed supplies from a crafts store to make Christmas crackers. You'd seen them enough on those British rom-com TV shows and movies you love to watch. You were familiar with the concept of a paper tube covered in foil and twisted at both ends. Two people each take an end, then you both pull until it pops open. What comes out from the inside the tube is usually a small trinket and a paper crown.

After dinner, you stopped by Dean's room and gave him your list. Although he grumbled a little, he agreed to find a craft store that would have what you need. You gave him a hug and thanked him for seeing how important this was to you. He teased you a little more about your crush then got serious for a moment.

"Hey? For what it's worth? I think you are just as beautiful and worthy of Ketch's attention as any of those other type of women you talked about. You're smart, funny, caring and do an amazing job of running this place.

"You have one of the biggest hearts out of anyone I know, because you're always thinking of others first. All of that is part of what makes you beautiful, and if Ketch can't see that, he's not worth your time," Dean finished. He pulled you back for one last hug and kissed the top of your head.

"Thanks, Dean. For everything, running my errands and for everything you said. Goodnight," you replied.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he returned.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After leaving Dean's door, you went back to your room to change into some pajamas. Your plan for the evening was to check on Ketch, then hang around for a while in case he woke up. You grabbed your book from your nightstand and headed for the infirmary.

You walked over to Ketch's bedside and could see that he hadn't moved much since you put in his stitches. You touched your wrist to his forehead to feel if he had a fever, which could indicate an infection, but his temp felt normal.

Your hand caressed his face as it slid down from his forehead, with your thumb gently stroking his cheek. He seemed to lean into your touch and a noise of contentment escaped his lips. You withdrew your hand, but placed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Once you were satisfied with Ketch's condition, you pulled a chair up close to the right side of his bed and sat so you were facing him. You opened your book to read, but it wasn't long before your eyelids began to droop closed from exhaustion.

Your grip on your book eventually relaxed enough to let it slip off your lap and onto the floor. Eyes still closed, you turned in your chair so that you could lean over and place your crossed elbows on the side of Ketch's bed. Then you rested your head on your left elbow and drifted back to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You woke to the feeling of someone gently running his fingers through your hair. A couple of times, you'd swear a soft pair of lips pressed themselves to your temple in a lingering kiss. You smiled then opened your eyes, gasping in surprise to find Ketch propped up on one elbow, grinning at you.

"Good morning, darling," he drawled. "I see you drew the short straw for patient watch duties," he quipped.

You giggled. "Good morning to you, Arthur. We didn't draw straws, I came down here of my own accord," you assured him. "Now that we're both conscious, what would you like for breakfast? I can make eggs, pancakes, French toast, omelets so take your pick," you remarked.

"I see this is a full-service infirmary," he chuckled. "In that case, I would love an omelet with whatever ingredients you have on hand, along with a few rashers of bacon? Perhaps a few slices of buttered toast? If I may, that is," Ketch replied.

"Absolutely, it's no problem at all. I think I have some onions, mushrooms, some diced ham and definitely cheese," you remarked, rising from your chair. "Give me a few minutes to take a shower, then I'll get all that put together for you and bring it in here," you said.

"Sounds wonderful, love. In the meantime, could you perhaps help me to the toilet facilities?" Ketch asked.

"Here, I've got it," Sam called out, much to your relief.

"Thank you, Sam," you replied. "I'll be back as soon as I can with your breakfast," you said over your shoulder as you left the infirmary.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Did she stay here all night?" Ketch asked as Sam helped him to the bathroom.

Sam shrugged. "She might have, I dunno. All I know is that after dinner, she was researching something. Next thing I knew, she had given Dean a list of stuff to get at the supermarket and a craft store today," he replied.

"A craft store?!? What on earth would she need from there?" Ketch asked incredulously.

Sam hesitated before answering. It was a perfectly normal question, but to answer it would give away your surprise of a British-style Christmas for Ketch. "She has a project she's working on, and I can't tell you any more than that right now," he answered.

Ketch eased his way back into his bed, being careful to prop up his sprained ankle. "Hmm. Certainly very mysterious, Sam. In any case, whatever it is she's working on will undoubtedly be a rousing success," he remarked.

After about 30 minutes, you reentered the infirmary, breakfast tray in hand. "Here we are, breakfast is ready!" you grinned. You waited until Ketch seemed settled and ready to be served. "We have an omelet with onions, diced ham, mushrooms and cheese, six slices of bacon and four slices of buttered toast. Let me tell you, getting six slices of bacon set aside for you with Dean around was nothing short of a miracle," you chattered.

Ketch looked at the plate of breakfast fare before him and his mouth began to water. "This looks fabulous, darling. Thank you," Ketch remarked softly.

You felt your cheeks grow warm at the compliment and the endearment. "Well," you replied shakily. "Ring when you're done or if you need anything else. I have some Christmas preparations to attend to. A surprise for you-um, I mean, ev-everyone," you stammered.

"What are you up to, my little minx?" Ketch said as he playfully narrowed his gaze.

"N-nothing, Arthur. Well, something, but you'll see when the time is right," you replied with a wink as you left the infirmary. You tried to slow your hammering heart from his flirting in the amount of time it took to walk back to the library.

While you waited for Dean to return from the errands you'd given him, you tidied up the kitchen from making breakfast. By the time you had finished the dishes, Dean had returned from the supermarket and the craft store. He assisted you with preparing the fresh turkey for roasting in the oven and helped clean and cut the vegetables.

Once dinner was in the oven, you turned your attention to making the Christmas Crackers and paper crowns. Sam popped in to check your progress, and to see if he could help you with anything. You sent him to one of the bunker's storage rooms, #12, because you had seen some Christmas decorations while snooping around one day.

What Sam had found was a tree, lights, some garland and you added your box of ornaments from your childhood. He called Dean in to the library, and the two of them got to work putting up the tree and decorating it. You continued to work on constructing the Christmas Crackers until you had a decent supply of them, all ready for popping.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You took a short break and went to your room for some packages you'd bought earlier in the week. When you returned to the library, you brought out your stocking and the ones you had purchased for each of the boys. One for Sam, one for Dean and one for Arthur, because you knew they were hunting together around the holiday. You bought Arthur a stocking in the hope that he would maybe stick around the bunker and celebrate.

After bringing out the stockings and ornaments, you went into the kitchen to check on dinner. The closer you got to the kitchen, the more something didn't smell quite right. "Oh, no no no no no," you panicked. You quickened your pace and yanked open the oven door, only to have a cloud of thick smoke come rolling out of it. “Dammit!” you shouted.

Sam must have been right behind you and reached the kitchen in time to see the cloud coming from the oven. He yelled for Dean, who gently but firmly ushered you out of the way so he could help Sam to get rid of the smoke. They brought in a couple of large industrial-sized floor fans to push the smoke from the kitchen and out the back door.

You sank into one of the chairs at the Map Table, numbly staring at the floor. Silent tears streamed steadily down your face. You couldn't understand what went wrong, how Christmas dinner was now ruined. As soon as it was safe, you were going back to the kitchen to clean up your mess and figure out what happened.

Sam and Dean walked over to you at the Map Table. Each of them laid a hand on your shoulders and knelt in front of you. You slowly lifted your head to look at them. "Are you guys okay? Anyone get burned or anything?" you asked, your voice thick with emotion.

"No, we're fine. We had to throw out dinner, pan and all. I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I know what this meant to you," Dean replied softly.

You gave a half-hearted shrug. "It's not your fault, Dean, or yours Sam. It was mine. Somewhere I made a mistake, and now dinner is ruined. I really wanted this to be a special dinner. For all of us, but especially for Arthur.

"I really wanted to give him a bit of home, observe some English traditions. I doubt he's had an opportunity to celebrate many Christmases in his current and former line of work, much like us. I guess I can't even do that right," you sniffled. "If you guys don't mind, I think I want to be alone for a while," you said as you stood up from your chair, headed for your room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ketch cleared his throat as a way to announce his presence. "Lads? Is everything all right? I heard shouting and smelled smoke," he asked. Ketch had found a pair of crutches and hobbled his way into the War Room.

Sam explained to Ketch what had happened, that you had researched British Christmas traditions. He said you were trying to make a traditional British Christmas dinner for all of them, but that it somehow went wrong. "She went to check on dinner, but when she opened the oven door, a bunch of smoke came rolling out. She's pretty upset about it, too. Wanted to make this special for all of us, but especially for you," Sam finished.

"So that's what the little sweetheart was working on, with the craft store list and all," he mused. Ketch felt a warmth in his heart to know that you had gone to such lengths to try and make his Christmas special. Then, he recalled everything you'd done for him since he limped in from the last hunt. You did seem to pay particularly close attention to him and his medical care after the werewolf injuries.

Before Sam mentioned it, Ketch didn't know anything about the type of research you'd done. However, he did remember that you were a bit flustered this morning when talking about your plans for the day. When you add it up, he realized that you'd done those things because you care for him. Maybe even have feelings for him, seeing him as more than a friend.

Ketch started to examine his feelings about you. He's seen how you interact with people, how you give the best of yourself to each and every person. When he limped down the bunker stairs, he noticed how scared and worried you were for him. He saw how you pushed those thoughts to the side in favor of focusing solely on the job of healing his injuries. He knows you're tough enough to run this bunker as well as you do.

But Ketch knows you also have your softer side, with your smile and your laughter, which lighten his heart. When you talk about a particular subject that interests you, your eyes seem to sparkle like the stars in the night sky. And though your hands appear to be soft and delicate, he knows from experience that they are strong and steady. Hands that he wouldn't mind if they explored his body as his hands took their time to learn yours.

"Where is she? I need to speak with her," Ketch asked.

A grinning Sam and Dean both pointed in the direction of your room. They each took a side and escorted Ketch to your bedroom door to make sure he got there safely. Once they were at your door, Sam and Dean left Ketch to speak with you alone, because they had their own mission.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You sat on the edge of your bed for what felt like hours, going over in your mind how things had gone so wrong. The Christmas Crackers had been made, and you thought maybe you should at least share that with Ketch and the boys. You decided to end the self-pity party, and salvage what was left of your attempt at a British Christmas.

As you opened your door, you gasped when you noticed Ketch, standing at your door on his crutches, hand raised as if ready to knock. "Arthur? What are you doing out of bed? Are you all right?" you asked. You took a deep breath to keep yourself from rambling any more. "Please, come in," you said as you guided him into your room and closed the door.

There wasn't anywhere available for Ketch to sit in his current condition, so you helped him to sit up on your bed. His back was against the headboard, with the pillows you put behind him. "I'm just fine, love," Ketch affirmed as he watched you climb up onto the bed, facing him. "Well, I was fine, until I heard about dinner," he replied.

You dropped your gaze to your hands in your lap. "Yeah, me too. I'm so sorry, Arthur. I really wanted to give you a traditional British Christmas. I made Christmas Crackers, which is why Dean had to go to the craft store," you chuckled lightly.

"I confess, I was a bit curious about that when Sam mentioned it," Ketch chuckled in return.

"Well, dinner was supposed to be an oven-roasted turkey with parsnips and Brussels sprouts. That went up in smoke, and I have no idea what I did wrong," you sighed. You looked away, because tears were threatening to start again.

Ketch leaned forward and reached for you to tilt your face up with his index finger. "Maybe it wasn't anything you did, sometimes these things just happen, darling. But, do you know what the upside is?" he asked, to which you shook your head. "You get a chance to make new traditions," he replied with a wink.

"Thank you, Arthur. I appreciate your understanding," you answered shyly.

"I must say, though, I'm flattered. No woman has ever gone to such lengths to capture my attention," he started. "But then again, you've always had it, along with my heart," Ketch remarked softly.

You felt your cheeks get warm again as the meaning behind his words sunk in. "Arthur, what are you saying? That you like me, as in more than a friend?" you whispered as you shifted nearer to him on the bed.

Ketch carefully moved forward, his hand sliding around to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. With your eyes trained on Ketch's face, you inched closer until your mouths were nearly touching. "So beautiful.....," he said as he smiled softly before closing the gap and capturing your lips with his own.

You sighed into the kiss, reveling in the softness of Ketch's lips as they moved in tandem with yours. His tongue swept across your bottom lip requesting entrance, which you readily granted. Your hands moved up to cradle his face, with your thumbs caressing his cheeks. A small moan escaped your lips, which encouraged Ketch to deepen the kiss.

When the kiss broke, it left both you and Ketch trying to catch your breath. "Wow," you whispered. "That was amazing, Arthur," you remarked.

"Even better than I had imagined," Ketch murmured. "Ever since that siren case, I've been thinking what a mistake it was to have left you, my darling. I hope you can forgive me for being away so long," he said.

You shook your head. "Nothing to forgive, Arthur. I understand the nature of this life. As long as you know that there's a heart, right here, waiting for you to come home to," you affirmed.

"How fortunate I am that you have entrusted me with this heart of yours," Ketch murmured. He took your hand and held it to his chest, above his heart. "Then it is only fitting that as I have your heart, so shall you have mine," he declared.

"Sounds like a perfect arrangement. And have no fear, because I will keep it safe," you promised.

You and Ketch continued to talk in your room, with your conversation occasionally punctuated by kisses and tender touches. Some kisses long and luxurious, designed to take your breath away and succeeding in their mission.

Some kisses were hot and feverish, only going so far until you reluctantly pulled back. You were mindful that Ketch was still recuperating from injuries. However, he hinted that he was looking forward to picking up where he left off after receiving an 'all-clear' on his recovery. Ketch was pleased to see the color rise in your cheeks at his suggestion.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

While you and Ketch were sorting things out between you, Sam and Dean had run into town to replace the ruined turkey dinner. Fortunately, your favorite Chinese restaurant was still open, so they brought back a variety of entrées and appetizers to choose from.

You fixed a plate for Arthur, complete with a little of everything. You placed it in front of him and leaned down for a slow, tender kiss, which he was all too willing to give. This turn of events did not go unnoticed by Sam and Dean, though neither of them said anything. Dean, however, gave you a knowing wink and squeezed your shoulder as you fixed a plate for yourself.

After dinner was finished and the leftovers were put away, you suggested for you all to watch a Christmas movie. You helped Arthur to get situated in a corner of the couch, his right leg stretched out parallel to the back cushions.

Once he was comfortable, he held out his arms, inviting you to snuggle with him. You carefully positioned yourself between his legs, your back leaning against his chest. You covered your bottom halves with the quilt your mother had made for you. Ketch closed his arms around you and took both of your hands, intertwining your fingers with his. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, drawing a sigh of contentment from you.

For some unknown reason, Dean was allowed to pick the movie for the evening. For a moment, you thought he was going to pick Die Hard. However, he picked White Christmas, because he knew it was your favorite. From within Ketch's arms, you turned as best as you could to catch Dean's attention and sent him a silent thanks. He winked back and settled in to watch the show.

When the movie was over, Sam and Dean noticed that you and Ketch had both fallen asleep. The boys chuckled, but were happy that you'd found each other and finally confessed your feelings. "They look so cute together," Sam remarked.

"Disgustingly so," Dean agreed. He reached down and gently shook your shoulder, which was enough to wake you.

In turn, you nudged Ketch to wake him up. "Arthur?" you mumbled, still half-asleep.

"Mmm, yes darling?" he replied.

"Time to wake up, so we can go to bed," you murmured as you slowly stood. You held out your hands to assist him in getting up from the couch. Once Ketch managed to maneuver into a standing position, he wrapped his arms around you.

"Shall we, sweetheart?" Ketch asked, then he pecked your lips.

"Right this way, my love," you answered, handing him the crutches. When he had them under control, you slowly walked to your room. You nudged open the door with your foot as you guided Ketch through to the inside. "Bed's big enough for two. Unless you'd rather sleep alone in the drafty infirmary?" you questioned.

"No, no, this is fine. I know I said something about dinner and dancing before you get me into bed. But I suppose it would be all right, since we've done dinner and a movie," he quipped, a sly grin crossing his face.

You giggled, remembering his earlier attempts at flirtation while injured. "You're right, we have had dinner and a movie. Not sure you're ready for dancing quite yet, though," you replied. "Can't wait for that," you remarked huskily.

Ketch climbed back up into the bed as he had done before and waited for you to come out of the bathroom in your pajamas. You were dressed in red plaid flannel pajama pants and a rock band T-shirt. Ketch held his arm out for you to snuggle up to him, resting your head on his shoulder. Once you were settled, he curled his arm around you, holding you close to his side.

You wrapped your left arm around Ketch's midsection and tilted your head up to catch a glimpse of his ocean-blue eyes. Ketch leaned in to press his lips to your forehead, then pulled back a little to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind your ear. "What are you thinking, my love?" he asked.

"I'm thinking....we didn't get to celebrate with the Christmas Crackers I made," you pretended to pout, then broke into a shy smile. "Nah, what I'm really thinking is how happy I am to have you in my life. I love you, Arthur," you replied softly.

"Well, I was kind of anxious to see how your Christmas Crackers turned out, so I could compare them to what I remember from childhood," he remarked. His response earned him a playful swat on his chest from you, then he tightened his embrace a little. "I also am happy to have you in my life, darling. I love you too," he declared, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, sweet kiss.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags: @janicho88 @yourelivingwrong @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @swiftlymoniquesblog @lyarr24 @miss-nerd95 @distefano123 @hobby27 @deanwanddamons @jessica-noel94 @wayward-mikaelson @jawritter @jensengirl83 @supernatural-jackles @deangirl93 @ellewritesfix05 @idreamofplaid @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @winchesterprincessbride

#arthurketch x reader #ketch x reader #ketchmas #spnimagines #spn christmas #supernatural

[emberbent]

QUESTIONS FOR YOUR OCs

[Originally posted by @cassandrapentayaaaaas, whose name apparently is also Elle, ayyyy. I’ll be filling this out for my Fire Avatar OC Shinza, and maybe also for some other characters later.]

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

Previous to her airbending training, Shinza would have had a hard time being still and doing nothing for longer than a few minutes. Not out of a need to burn off energy, but out of a fear of being alone with her thoughts for too long. Now, she can meditate and be still for over an hour, or much longer if she takes short breaks. She sat for eleven hours for her tattoo, which was the longest she’s gone doing nothing.

How easy is it for your character to laugh?

She doesn’t appear to be easily amused - she’s more of a smirker than a laugher if she finds something funny. Unless she’s among people who are close to her, or she’s drinking pear sake.

How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

Shinza’s one of the lucky ones who falls asleep as soon as she climbs into bed. She doesn’t have to do anything special to fall asleep.

How easy is it to earn their trust?

Hard to say. Maybe moderate? She doesn’t like to reveal much about herself unless she really trusts someone not to abuse that information, which isn’t all that often. She’s self-reliant enough that she doesn’t need others to help her most of the time, which can be seen as untrusting. But really, all it takes is showing compassion and self-awareness to get her to let her guard down.

How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

Fairly easy, since her default mode is not overly trusting.

Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

She's always had trouble determining which rules are or should be flexible vs enforced. Now that she’s in a position where she’s more or less exempt from following rules as necessary to keep balance, she’s realizing it’s even more complex than she ever thought. She contemplates often whether she has a duty not to follow the rules she holds others to, or to lead by example and hold herself to those same standards.

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

The smell of petrichor mingling with the oily smog of Republic City brings her back to when she was small, and she would walk with her mother, a doctor, every day to the clinic. Her mother would hold her hand, and they’d traverse in silence, except to point out the stray capuchin cats sheltering under the Satos on the street, or Shinza would ask for a treat from the bakery.

What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?

Twirling, dancing, spinning around, singing. It wasn’t that her parents discouraged her from these normal activities, but she often didn’t have the presence of mind to refrain in the wrong situations.

Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

Not often; usually to emphasize her point. She distinctly remembers being nine years old and watching someone walk into traffic. A bystander earthbent them out of the way just before a Sato could run them over. She said her first curse word aloud as she rode in a cab with her father. He wasn’t mad.

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

She never got into habitual lying. Too much to remember, too much guilt.

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

Lucky for her, she has thousands of past Avatars to talk to. 

How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

She has long arms - this isn’t normally an issue.

What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

Black and shades of red; absolutely.

What animal do they fear most?

Shinza’s not afraid of any animals in a phobia sense, but she does think canyon crawlers are fairly ugly, and she’d hate to meet one.

How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

She thinks before she speaks, but she doesn’t rehearse what she wants to say before the conversation happens. She speaks deliberately and rarely says something she doesn’t mean. 

What makes their stomach turn?

The normal stuff - gore and viscera, bad smells, being anxious or nervous.

Are they easily embarrassed?

Very much so, although she tries not to let it show.

What embarrasses them?

The biggest thing is having her flaws or screw-ups used as an example to a group. She also suffers pretty bad secondhand embarrassment watching others do embarrassing things.

What is their favorite number?

She doesn’t have one.

If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

She’d explain familial love as distinctly separate from platonic or romantic love in that for her, it comes from a place of duty as well as physical proximity and similarity. Her personality closely matches both of her parents’, so they naturally got along well most of the time, which made them feel close, which she might define as familial love.

She feels there’s very little difference between platonic and romantic love, and that one can easily morph into the other and back. These are based on things outside of physical proximity or biology, like shared interests, a common goal, and sexual attraction. Sometimes it’s as simple as, “I don’t know. I just love them.”

Why do they get up in the morning?

Duty. Responsibility. The sunlight coming in through her window has woken her and she can’t go back to sleep. 

How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)?

It manifests as deep sadness and a feeling that there’s a flaw she should fix in herself that will make the situation better. Then it festers into shame for having those emotions or caring at all, and she becomes aloof.

How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?

She might pine for whatever this other fortunate person has that she doesn’t for a second, but then she shrugs it off.

Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom?

She’s happy to talk about sex in an academic sense with acquaintances, but she’s only comfortable discussing her own experiences with her best friend Nero. Even then, she squirms a little.

What are their thoughts on marriage?

She likes the idea of loving someone so much that you’d enter a legally binding, life-long contract with them, and she certainly sees the financial and social advantages. As to whether she wants to get married herself, she’d be perfectly fine either way.

What is their preferred mode of transportation?

Xia, her dragon companion. Especially now that she’s not afraid of heights or the open air anymore. Plus, they just get each other - no words needed. They had a strong bond from the beginning, but ever since Xia saved Shinza’s ass in Gaoling, Shinza feels closer to her than ever.

What causes them to feel dread?

Knowing that the world is watching every move she makes, and that everything she does (or doesn’t do) will go down in history. Knowing that if she can’t protect herself, she could be the last Avatar.

Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?

Definitely not. Being lied to is something she has a hard time forgiving, and she’d much rather deal with the ripples of an unpleasant truth than feeling she can’t trust the person keeping the truth from her, and finding out anyway.

Do they usually live up to their own ideals?

No, but Shinza holds herself to impossibly high standards.

Who do they most regret meeting?

Yanyu, the ex-Dai Li agent who her parents hired to block her bending and repress her memories when she was little. Shinza thought Yanyu wanted to meet with her in Gaoling to apologize for her role in letting the world go for so long without its Avatar, but it turned out to be a trap; Yanyu attempted to subdue her and turn her over to The Organization.

Who are they the most glad to have met?

Amrit. She came to him on the Island of the Sun Warriors thinking she was a nonbender, that she couldn’t possibly be the Avatar, and he helped her through that confusion. He unblocked her chi and helped her flame. Maybe he was a little too hard on her during training, but he taught her the value of working til you puke. He’s always had her back, even from the first day.

Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke?

No. Shinza rarely leads conversations.

Could they be considered lazy?

Not by any stretch. She’s deliberate, diligent, and hard set on doing things right and thoroughly.

How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt?

Very, which is detrimental to her role as the Avatar. She doesn’t know yet that she will live with the burden of guilt for her decisions and actions her whole life, or how to be okay with that.

How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive?

She’s a supporter and an attentive listener. She does her best to follow up with questions or mention small details later. Unless it’s something like a friend being excited about getting back together with her toxic ex - then she’d be clear about where she stands on the matter. 

Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap?

She’s never sought out romance, but she has experienced and enjoyed it. Romantic love isn’t something she requires to feel happy or validated.

Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)?

She doesn’t have a system - she just remembers things like patterns, numbers, and names. It’s a gift that, oddly enough, she was bullied for in school. Sometimes she forgets that others don’t have such an incredible memory and gets frustrated with them, but she’s working on it.

What memory do they revisit the most often?

Leaving Nero alone at the bar, mouth agape, as two Fire Nation officials all but dragged her out the door with them. She never got to explain to Nero what happened after she figured it all out, and she hasn’t seen her since that day almost two years ago. The guilt eats at her.

How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people?

Fairly difficult. She can’t ignore her own flaws, so she’s unable to extend that to others. She’s working on it though, and she’s got Amrit to practice on. No shade tho.

How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

Extremely. She was an only child, so her parents were hawks circling her, watching her every move. They didn’t pick on her on purpose, but it was pretty clear to Shinza that they were disappointed she didn’t go to medical school or join the military. On top of that, she grew up believing she was a nonbender, which culminated in a general, oppressive feeling that she was deeply flawed.

How do they feel about children?

She was an only child and didn’t grow up around her extended family, so she doesn’t have a lot of experience being around kids. Before, she could think of worse things than raising a child of her own. But now, she can’t fathom trying to balance her duties while raising a child.

How badly do they want to reach their end goal?

The shame of leaving the physical and spirit worlds out of balance and being remembered as an ineffective Avatar is unfathomable to her. She’d say she wants it more than anything.

If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so?

She’d say she’s sexual, sometimes, and leave it at that.

QUESTIONS FOR CREATORS

A) Why are you excited about this character? 

In every OC, I think there’s at least a little bit of their creator; I didn’t intend for Shinza to end up so similar to myself, but she is. And as I develop my own sense of self, I see that reflected in Shinza when I write her, and that’s pretty exciting.

B) What inspired you to create them? 

I’d been wanting to write an Avatar OC story for a long time, and nothing felt right or fun or exciting until I considered using Shinza, a character I’d had stewing in my head for a while. Once I pictured her in the Avatar world, things started falling into place pretty quickly.

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story? 

Absolutely. I planned the story from start to finish so I knew where I was headed, but along the way, Emberbent!Shinza started to take shape in unexpected ways and deviate from the original plan. As her personality in this story evolves, I have to figure out her reactions to things, and the ripples from those reactions, from a new perspective. I don’t have a clear view of her transformation arc, because it’s happening in real time along with mine. The (already flimsy) ending I’d intended has been blown to smithereens, and I have no idea how it’ll go - I’m essentially 50% pantsing at this point - but I feel less frustrated knowing I have more room to see what happens.

D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look? 

She’s had a number of different physical appearances. At one point, she was a monk child in a DND campaign I played in. In the preliminary planning stages of Emberbent, she looked like Nero, her best friend, and was an Earth Avatar.

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

I like to think we’d get along, but we’d both have to be okay with natural silence. Neither of us are inclined to lead conversations.

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

All of the above. Pride because of how hard she’s worked to get where she is; excitement because of all the horrific and wonderful things she’ll go through to turn her into who she’ll ultimately become; and frustrated because she feels flat to me, so I’m assuming she feels flat to others too.

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most? 

She can’t see past her own nose yet in terms of her role. It will take some time for her to realize she has to relinquish all of her own desires and happiness to her duty as the Avatar. For now, she’s stuck in selfish-mode, doing her best to help those close to her while trying to maintain her grip on her old ego.

H) What trait do you admire most? 

While she’s still working on seeing things from a broad perspective, she has an innate ability to deeply understand people, their feelings, and the situations they find themselves in. She’ll drop everything in order to help.

I) Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe? 

Yeah. I’m not into crossover fics... yet.

J) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?

Mmm, I don’t know about manipulating canon, but I definitely extended it and filled in some parts as needed. Since she’s not the Avatar that came directly after Korra, I had to create the character that came between them. And since Shinza’s timeline is well after Korra’s, I had to envision what Republic City and the world would look like 70 years or so in the future.

Edit: Actually, just kidding. I forgot I totally manipulated canon when I figured out a way for Shinza to reconnect with the Avatars before Aang.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #lok #avatar legend of korra #avatar fic #avatar oc #emberbent

[chipsandcoffee]

Whouffaldi Fanfic

“You Sound Like a Song”

Post-Hell-Bent, fix-it of sorts, memory loss, confessions, angst, romance, eternal love, s10 spoilers, canon compliant (well technically at least), cameo appearance by Bill Potts

Also on AO3 at this link.

______________

He knew her name was Clara. He knew they’d travelled together. But that was all he knew.

The list of things the Doctor didn't know about Clara was so much longer and went so much deeper, prodding away at him from a restless corner of his mind. What was she like? What had they meant to each other? Why would he have wiped the memory of her from his mind? And the one question that troubled him most: what had happened to her?

He ruminated on these questions yet again as he slumped in a leather armchair in his office at St. Luke's University, absent-mindedly strumming his guitar. He often felt a sense of melancholy on these solitary nights. Nothing was sad until it was over, he thought. Then everything was.

He had spent a long time trying to look for Clara (being stuck on Earth for a number of years hadn’t stopped him, for he was based where she was most likely to be). Of course he didn't know who he was looking for (hadn't someone told him that once?), but he believed he would know her if he met her again, and she would surely know him. But it had never happened. And he’d never heard a word from her.

He'd eventually reached the most logical and painful conclusion: she was dead. She'd likely been dead all along, even before he’d erased her from his memory (he could tell he’d used a neural block, could feel the sensation of a hole in his mind where something ought to be). Maybe that was why he'd taken the drastic step of eliminating those memories in the first place: her death had simply been too painful for him to bear.

He obviously had no idea how Clara had died, but he had the painful feeling that it had somehow been his fault. Hers was probably another life cut tragically short because of him, just like too many other people he’d been close to.

Indeed, he’d experienced more than his fair share of loss over his long life, and the last few decades had certainly been no exception. River had gone to her inevitable death shortly before he’d arrived in Bristol (at least by his timeline). He’d also very nearly presided over the execution of Missy before rescuing his oldest friend and bringing her to St. Luke’s. But for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp, the very idea of Clara being dead made his hearts ache in a way nothing else did. Perhaps more than anything else ever had.

It was strange grieving for someone he didn’t remember. His grief after losing River had made sense to him, and he’d been able to move on from it (even if Nardole, devoted to River as always, continued to assume that any sign of sorrow from the Doctor was connected to his late wife). But he had a vague, shapeless sense of loss deep in his bones that he knew, he just knew, was the grief he was still carrying for Clara. He obsessed over the unknown and unknowable details of her life, their life, and her presumed death. 

His grief frequently bubbled up to the surface when he played his guitar. In fact, as he sat there in the shadows of his office, he realized that he'd once again started playing a variation of a song from long ago that he knew was called “Clara.” Bill was always curious about that tune, but he'd never told her its true title. How would he begin to explain the story behind it when he didn’t understand it himself? 

The Doctor suddenly recalled with regret that he’d been rather curt with Bill earlier that day when she'd teased him that that particular song was the only one he knew how to play. He thought maybe he should say something to her by way of apology when he saw her again. He also knew he was rubbish at such conversations, so he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and fished out the stack of dog-eared index cards that he relied on for such occasions. He'd had them for many years, each card a neatly-written sentence that he could use in tricky social situations (which for him was most social situations). One of his companions had probably made them for him at some point, but he couldn't remember who. He liked to imagine they came from Clara, that he still had something tangible left of her that he carried with him. He wondered if she would have liked that.

The Doctor put his guitar aside, ran his hand down his face, and started pacing around his office. All this brooding wasn't doing him any good. He needed a distraction. He paused, fingers drumming on his desk, as his eyes fell on his TARDIS parked in the corner following his last outing with Bill. He'd been thinking recently that the timeship’s interface stabilizer could use an upgrade; that would keep him busy for a while. But he’d need to get his hands on a few parts first. He considered his options. 

His favourite place to get spare parts for the TARDIS was at a marketplace on the planet Haligonia. Of course Nardole would give him grief if he found out that the Doctor had travelled off world, but Nardole was currently occupied with tinkering with the locks on the vault deep under St. Luke’s and likely would be for a while. The Doctor could be gone and back before Nardole knew he’d left. He rubbed his hands together, his decision made. He pushed open the TARDIS doors.

A few minutes later, the Doctor was strolling through the bustling marketplace on 48th-century Haligonia. The planet was a human colony, but the well-known market attracted shoppers of a variety of species from all over the galaxy. It was a warm, sunny day, and the breeze carried smells of local street foods as he made his way past vendors selling everything from the latest tech gadgets to exotic jewellery to flowers of every possible colour.

Soon enough he spotted the parts dealer’s stall. As he approached it he noticed there was a rather spirited conversation going on between the tall, burly dealer and a petite young woman. The customer was dark-haired and wore a black leather jacket with a well-worn satchel slung over her shoulder. Her clear voice stood out over the din of the market, and as the Doctor walked up behind her, he could hear her haggling over the price of something.

“Come on, this would've cost less when it was new than what you’re asking for it now.”

The dealer folded his arms. “Yeah, well life’s not fair, lady. And if you can find it new somewhere else, feel free to buy it there.”

“Fine,” she said nonchalantly, “I will then.” The woman spun around and began striding off, nearly walking into the Doctor.

“Sorry,” she said, glancing up at him. She did a double take and suddenly froze, staring at him, her strikingly large eyes becoming impossibly larger. She stood stock still for a long moment. “Doctor,” she breathed.

He peered down at her, knitting his eyebrows and squinting slightly. “Have we met?”

“Yeah, yeah we've met,” she said faintly, sounding dazed. She continued to stare at him, and now her eyes were starting to look distinctly watery.

The Doctor became increasingly concerned that this stranger might inexplicably burst into tears right in front of him, a prospect that he found rather frightening. He reached into his pocket for his social cue cards in a desperate attempt to find something to say that might diffuse whatever was happening.

He found one of his frequently-used cards, and recited, “I apologize for not recognizing you. I am a time traveller and I sometimes meet people out of order.”

The woman tore her eyes away from the Doctor's face to look at what he was holding. However, much to the Doctor's horror the card had only made things worse, as she had clasped her hand over her mouth and a tear trickled down her face.

“I, um,” he spluttered, his arms flailing.

The woman suddenly seemed to snap out of her emotional state and darted her eyes around the marketplace, as though searching for an escape route. “I'm um, I'm so sorry,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to smile. “Have a good day.” And with that she turned and strode away without a backwards glance.

The Doctor felt somewhat relieved that this problematic encounter appeared to have resolved itself. But he also felt responsible for upsetting this person, and he found himself chasing after her through the crowd of shoppers.

“You there,” he said, starting to catch up to her. “Are you okay?”

He thought she must not have heard him, because she kept on walking. But then she came to a sudden halt, and the Doctor had to stop himself from running into her from behind. After a moment’s hesitation, she turned around, her face somehow conveying trepidation and relief at the same time. The Doctor was baffled how she managed to do that. 

The woman heaved a long sigh. “I am so sick of hiding from you.” The Doctor frowned as she stepped towards him, the crowd swirling around them. “The reason I recognize you but you don't recognize me isn't because of time travel. It's because you’ve forgotten me.” She paused for a second and wiped away a tear. “You, um, you chose to forget me.”

The Doctor felt as though his hearts had stopped and that all the blood had drained from his face. His mouth fell slightly open. Some distant part of his brain thought he must look like he'd seen a ghost. To him he had.

“Clara,” he whispered. It wasn't a question. He knew somehow, he was certain who she was.

“Yeah,” she whispered in return, gazing into his eyes.

“You're not dead,” he blurted out, immediately realizing how ridiculous that sounded.

“Yeah,” she frowned. “Why? Have you remembered--”

“I haven't remembered anything. I'd just… guessed. That-- that you were dead.”

Clara looked into the Doctor’s eyes and he immediately felt like she could see into his soul, into every lonely, hopeless night he’d spent grieving for her. Her face grew concerned.

“Oh, Doctor.” She reached up and laid her hand on his cheek, and the Doctor surprised himself by not flinching under her touch. “I think we should talk.”

______________

A few minutes later, the Doctor found himself incredibly, miraculously sitting with Clara at a small table in the corner of a quiet cafe on a back street near the marketplace, a steaming mug of herbal tea in front of each of them. They sat in silence at first as they stole glances at one another and tried to figure out how to navigate this strange situation.

“I like your coat,” Clara started, nodding at the blue-lined black velvet jacket he'd favoured of late.

“Oh, um, thanks.” He felt himself blushing. He wasn't used to people saying that sort of thing to him. Another moment passed and he asked, “How did you travel here?”

“In my TARDIS,” she answered easily, as though that were something that humans did all the time.

“What?” He was flabbergasted. “You have a TARDIS? How?”

Clara sighed. “Oh, this is going to be a very long story, Doctor.”

Several cups of tea later, Clara had told the Doctor the story of their final days together: the raven on Trap Street, the Doctor pulling Clara from her time stream on Gallifrey (which partly explained the vague memories he’d had of being trapped for a very long time in his confession dial), and her escape in a stolen TARDIS (oddly with the immortal woman Ashildr).

Once Clara had finished her story, the Doctor sat in stunned silence, attempting to make sense of it all, of the extreme lengths he'd gone to for Clara. He tried to wrap his mind around the idea that he’d actually plucked this woman from her time stream right before her death. And here she sat, still time-looped. Still, in essence, alive.

“You know how to fly a TARDIS?” It probably wasn’t the most important question, but it’s the one that popped out of his mouth.

“Yeah,” she laughed, her eyes twinkling, and the Doctor thought her laugh was perhaps the loveliest thing he’d ever heard. “I picked up a thing or two in the years we travelled together.”

The Doctor was impressed. “So how long has it been for you since you last saw me?”

“Oh, um, I'm not sure anymore. A while back I stopped keeping track of how long it’d been. It was--” She paused, lowering her eyes, a hint of pain crossing her face. She cleared her throat, met his eye again and continued, “I figured that was for the best. But I guess it must be close to a hundred years now.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows slightly. "I think it's almost exactly the same for me."

The corners of Clara's mouth quirked up. "Yeah, that's just the way things seem to go with us. We've always been… connected, somehow.”

“What have you been doing all that time?”

“Oh you know, flying about a bit, watching the odd star being born, saving the odd planet.”

The Doctor couldn't help but laugh at Clara's jokingly casual tone, and he marvelled to himself at this amazing woman. But there was an important issue that Clara hadn’t yet explained.

“So why don’t I remember you, Clara? Based on the type of amnesia that I experienced, I’m guessing that I used a neural block of some sort?”

Clara’s face turned serious and she glanced down.

“Um, yeah, you did.” She gave a puzzled frown. “It's weird though, I saw you shortly after the neural block, and you seemed to remember a bit more than you do now. At least some of what had happened on Gallifrey.”

“Ah, well it's not uncommon in the early stages following a neural block to be left with some disjointed shards of memories. Over time, if the brain can't process those fragments, they're forgotten. It's sort of like forgetting a dream shortly after awakening.”

“Right, okay.”

The Doctor searched her face. “Clara, why did I use a neural block to forget you?” 

Clara looked upwards as if searching for inspiration on how to respond to the Doctor’s question, tears threatening in her eyes again. She took a deep breath.

“It wasn't meant to be you, not at first.”

“What do you mean?”

“You, um, you were going to use the neural block on me. You thought I'd be safer from the Time Lords if I didn't remember you.”

The Doctor frowned in confusion. “So what happened?”

Clara lowered her eyes. “I used your sonic sunglasses to reverse the polarity on the neural blocker when you weren't looking.”

“You what?”

“I didn't want it to go off on you, I just didn't want you to use it on me.” She began to raise her voice while a tear spilled down her face. “I didn't want you to use it at all, I told you what I'd done!”

Her voice broke and she paused, catching her breath and wiping her face. The Doctor felt a rush of sympathy and heartache for her. He realized that as difficult as it had been for him to live with his missing memories, Clara had suffered too, in a different way: she'd had to carry around the weight of everything they'd been through, while he had been blissfully ignorant.

Clara continued, speaking more quickly as she got through the rest of her story. “So. You didn't know at that point what would happen when the button on the blocker was pressed. That's when you suggested that we both press the button together, knowing that one of us would forget the other, but not knowing which one. Better than flipping a coin, you said.” Clara dropped her gaze and her voice fell to nearly a whisper. “And I guess you kind of lost the coin toss.”

The Doctor watched Clara for a moment, her head bowed. Then he found himself leaning forward and placing his hand on hers. Clara looked up at him, surprised at the contact.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

“For what?”

“For everything, I guess. For forgetting you. For trying to make you forget me. I'm sorry that you feel bad about what happened with my memories, because it wasn't your fault, Clara. We knew the risks and we pressed that button together.” 

She squeezed his hand, a hint of relief on her face.

“You didn't say why I thought one of us needed to forget the other,” the Doctor continued. “But I think I'm starting to understand. Everything I did, the confession dial, the extraction chamber, my plan to hide you away and make you forget me.” The Doctor felt his hearts stirring as he now wrapped Clara's hand in both of his. “I think I would have torn the sky apart for you, Clara Oswald. And I think I knew that.”

A sad smile crossed Clara's face. “And I would have done the same for you.”

The Doctor and Clara gazed silently at each other, her small hand wrapped in his two, lost in the universe that was each other's eyes. 

After a while Clara swallowed, leaned forward, and spoke in a quiet voice. “Doctor, there's one more thing I still haven't told you. When you and I were on Gallifrey, we sat together in the Cloisters, and I told you something important, something I'd never told you before.” Clara took her free hand and laid it on top of his, her eyes round and sparkling. “I told you that I loved you. That I'd always loved you and I always would, and that I wished I'd told you a long time ago. That maybe if I had, things would have turned out differently.”

The Doctor had been surprised by many things Clara had told him that day, but somehow her declaration of love wasn't one of them. He’d known it, felt it, from the moment he'd met her in the market outside.

“And how did I respond?” he whispered, scarcely breathing.

Clara gave another sad smile and shook her head. “You didn't. That was the moment you got the service hatch open and, well, we had to keep running.”

“Ah,” was all he could think of to say.

“Yeah. We’ve had a lot of bad timing, you and me.”

As if to emphasize the point, the cafe owner at that moment walked by their table and turned off the “open” sign in the window, pointedly clearing his throat as he did so.The Doctor glanced around and realized that he and Clara had been alone in the cafe for quite some time.

“I think we’re being kicked out,” Clara whispered loudly, her eyes twinkling.

“Looks like it,” the Doctor replied with a crooked grin.

Outside, the Haligonian night had fallen, and the streets were nearly empty. The planet's two champagne-coloured moons shone overhead, and the air felt damp and cool after the warmth of the day. The Doctor and Clara wandered together through the town for a while, swapping tales of adventures and wild escapes, their bursts of laughter ringing through the stillness of the evening. The streets and laneways they walked eventually gave way to a green, park-like area on the edge of town where the scent of blossoming trees drifted through the night air. The Doctor wished they could keep walking forever, but as his TARDIS came into view in the moonlight, he was reminded that their magical day had to come to an end.

They walked together across the dewy grass and stopped near his blue box, standing in an uncertain silence, the only sound a nocturnal bird calling in the distance. Clara finally spoke. “So what happens now? Me and you, what do we do now?” The hint of tears glistening in her eyes told the Doctor that she probably already knew the answer.

“Oh, Clara. I don't even need my memories to know that there’s nothing in this universe I’d like more than to travel with you again. But I said today that I would have torn the sky apart for you all those years ago, and I know in my hearts I still would. And that you’d still do the same for me.” 

He took a step closer to her. “Everything you’ve told me, everything I can see and feel now tells me that we were amazing together. But also that we were dangerous. And I don't think there’s any way to stop that from happening again, because of who we are, and because of--” He paused and took a deep breath. “And because of how we feel about each other.”

Clara looked down and nodded, a tear falling to the ground. “Yeah,” she whispered.

The Doctor tenderly placed his hand on Clara’s cheek, and she looked up at him. Clara had told him so much that day. Now there was something he felt he had to tell her, something that was burning within him. He wasn't going to let the opportunity pass him by again, not this time.

“Clara, I never got the chance to respond to you in the Cloisters, and I know a lot of time has passed since then and I’ve forgotten so much. But I know, I’m certain of one thing. I loved you, Clara Oswald. I loved you-- I love you with both my hearts. And I always will.”

Clara smiled up at him, even as another tear rolled down her cheek. The Doctor wiped away the tear with his thumb, feeling dizzy with the emotions swirling inside him. He found himself slowly leaning towards her, feeling a pull as irresistible and inevitable as gravity, as Clara ran her hand up his arm. Their lips met in a soft, heartfelt kiss. To the Doctor it felt surprisingly natural, right, perfect. It felt like the long-awaited conclusion to a conversation begun 100 years ago.

The Doctor stepped back and took Clara's hand as he stood there smiling softly at her, warmth and contentment infusing his body. She smiled back at him, all dimples and shiny eyes.

“I’m really glad I got to see you, Doctor.”

“I’m really glad I got to see you too, Clara Oswald.”

But his smile faltered as the reality of his situation sunk in. Clara frowned.

“What’s wrong, Doctor?”

He released her hand and sighed. “My neural block, Clara. I don’t know what'll happen when I leave tonight. Seeing you today, talking to you, learning all about you, about us. I don’t want to forget any of it, not again. But my brain has blocked my memories of you for a very long time, and I'm afraid it'll do it again.”

Clara’s face was filled with concern. “There must be something we can do.”

He shook his head and half-shrugged his shoulders.

Clara’s eyes lit up. “Hang on, I have an idea.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and opened her satchel. After some rummaging around, she pulled out a small cardboard box and opened it. “I carry these around with me. They still come in handy for all kinds of things.”

______________

Bill started packing up her things as the day’s tutorial with the Doctor wrapped up.

The Doctor was sitting behind his massive desk, continuing to flip through the book they'd been discussing. “And don’t forget that your research paper on laser-cooled ions is due tomorrow.”

Bill rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it.”

“Good.” The Doctor tried to look stern, but he had a feeling he wasn’t quite pulling it off. Tossing aside the book, he stood and picked up his guitar from the chair where he'd left it, wandering around his office as he played the song that he now knew was named for the woman he loved.

Bill paused as she walked towards the door. “Don't think I've heard that version before. It's, I dunno, cheerier.”

The Doctor smiled to himself. “Good night, Bill.”

“‘Night, Doctor. See ya tomorrow.”

Now alone, the Doctor played for a while longer before setting his guitar down. He relaxed into his favourite armchair and reflected on how different things were for him since his trip to Haligonia a few weeks earlier. He could still remember much of his wondrous encounter with Clara, though some of the details were growing hazy, almost as though the whole thing had been a dream. Sometimes he thought maybe it had been a dream. But whenever that unsettling feeling arose, he would do as he did now. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small stack of index cards. Some were old and dog-eared, but some were new. All of them had the same neat handwriting, and now he knew whose handwriting it was.

He picked out the new cards. The one on top read, “Clara is alive and doing well. She wants you to be happy.” He gave a contented sigh. The next two were his favourites.

“Clara loves you. She always has and always will.” 

“You told Clara that you love her, and she will always cherish that.”

He smiled even as his eyes felt wet with tears (perhaps he was malfunctioning). He gazed at the cards for a long time, his fingers running lightly over the words.

He knew her name was Clara. He knew they’d travelled together. He knew she was still out there, exploring the universe. He knew they'd loved each other deeply and truly, and they always would.

He also knew that nothing was sad until it was over. And he and Clara would never be over. Not in his hearts, not ever.

______________

Thank you for reading! This is my first fic and any feedback would be very welcome and appreciated!

#i'm so nervous/excited to finally publish this #my first fic #whouffaldi #fanfic #fan fiction #my fanfic

[arharperwrites]

She loves him. He breaks her

Author’s Note: This my first ever fic for Open Heart, I hope you like it. If anyone’s interested, I could do a part 2.

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Dr Ava Black)

Warnings: there’s angst. and some f-bombs

Word Count: 3122

 She loves him. He breaks her.

“Hi, sorry to bother you, but could you tell me where could I find Ethan Ramsey?”

Ava couldn’t help but look up from the lab results she was examining at the nurse’s station when she heard his name being said.

“Sorry ma’am, I wouldn’t know, but Dr Black might.” Nurse Lily said, pointing to Ava. The woman turned to her, and Ava got a proper look: she was a bit shorter than Ava, blonde hair in a ponytail, a few strands escaping it. She was carrying a motorcycle helmet under her left arm. Ava detected a hint of a Southern accent when she spoke to her.

“Hello, I’m looking for Ethan Ramsey, the nurse said you might know where he is?”

“He is in the Diagnostics conference room, there, second door on the right,” Ava explained, pointing to the glass doors.

“Thank you love, much appreciated” the woman smiled at her, going in the direction Ava pointed in.

To say that Ava’s interest was piqued would be an understatement. The woman wasn’t any of the patients they treated, though she could be one of the old cases the team treated before she joined. Was she a college friend of Ethan’s? She did look as if they could be the same age. Ava’s thoughts were interrupted when her pager beeped, reminding her she needs to get to the free clinic. Pushing Ethan and the mysterious woman out of her mind, she walked to the elevators.

Don’t get her wrong, Ava loved her job, but sometimes it would be nice if she could end her shift and not feel like she was run over by a truck. Like, a proper 18-wheeler. She couldn’t wait until she got into a nice shower to ease the tension in her neck. But luck wasn’t on her side as her pager beeped once again, reminding her the extra tests she ordered were done. She could’ve just left them to wait until morning, but she knew she couldn’t sleep if the results showed something, and she let it wait. Turning away from the locker room, she trudged to the lab, where the technician gave her the results and a sympathetic smile. On her way to the conference room she looked over the results, relieved they were fine, but annoyed as it didn’t shine a light on what was going on with the patient. As she entered the room, she noticed Ethan was still there by his desk, going over some papers.

“I thought your shift was over Dr Black,” he said, removing his glasses.

“I could say the same thing about you Dr Ramsey,” she answered back. He simply smirked at her.

Ava gave him the results she was holding “The extra tests for Mr Robins came back, everything is normal”

“Hmm, I guess we’ll just have to propose new theories tomorrow. Go home and rest” he ordered, putting back his glasses and resuming his paperwork.

Ava replied with a simple ‘good night’ and was about to exit the room, when she remembered the earlier encounter she had. She turned back to Ethan.

“Hey, quick question. Who was the woman who was here before lunch break? Pale, blonde hair, carrying a motorcycle helmet. She was looking for you and I gave her the directions” the young doctor asked.

To her surprise, Ethan looked…embarrassed?

“Oh, so you’ve met Stephanie. She’s a, uh, a former colleague of mine.”

“So, she used to work at Edenbrook?”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? How could she be a former colleague when you’ve never worked outside this hospital, and you say she never worked here?”

Ethan took a pause, averting his gaze from Ava. Why was this becoming awkward? Eventually, he replied: “No, she didn’t work here. She’s with the Doctors Without Borders. We met in Brazil”

It was time for Ava to look down. Ahh, she thought. His stint at the Amazon. Makes sense.

“I see. It’s nice of her to visit you, I guess,” She replied after a while, a bitter feeling in her mouth. She still couldn’t shake off this feeling she got every time his absence was mentioned. However irrational it seemed, Ava couldn’t help but feel like he had abandoned her for those two months.

More of an awkward pause followed, and neither of them seemed to want to break it, until Ava mustered up the courage to look at him again. He still looked as if he was ashamed of something.

“Well, I should be going. See you tomorrow Dr Ramsey” she turned and walked out.

The uneasy feeling she had followed her home, and not even the shower she took could shake of the thought that Ethan was hiding something.

                                                             ---

Ava didn’t see Ethan all morning, having done rounds with Esme and covering Sienna’s part at the free clinic. After wolfing down her lunch in the cafeteria, she realized she had some time left, so she set out to grab some coffee from that place Ethan took her people-watching. The smell of fresh coffee filled her senses until her eyes fell on the table in the corner. Ethan was sitting there, but he wasn’t alone. Opposite him sat the woman from yesterday, Stephanie. Honestly, she should’ve been fine seeing them together. Stephanie was a colleague, same as June or Ines. Yeah, but June and Ines didn’t spend two months with him in an Amazonian jungle, a voice in her head said. Ava’s stomach turned and suddenly coffee didn’t seem like such a great idea anymore. She made her way towards the exit, internally praying they don’t spot her, but it seemed as if she missed out on luck for the second day in a row. It was Stephanie that spotted her, and beckoned her over. Not wanting to appear rude, Ava put on a smile and walked towards the two doctors.

“Hello again, Dr Black. Would you like to join us?” the blonde asked, pointing to the empty chair.

Ava couldn’t decipher the way Ethan was looking at her. Tearing her gaze from him, Ava shook her head, saying: “Thank you, but no, sorry. I realized I forgot my wallet and remembered I have some tests waiting for me. Plus, I wouldn’t want to impose. I’m sure you have catching up to do”

“Yeah, if by catching up you mean I talk non-stop and he gives the world’s shortest answers. If he even wants to give them to me” Stephanie said playfully. Ethan just rolled his eyes.

“I guess Dr Ramsey opens to no one, glad I’m not the only one who failed”

“Hey, she’s making fun of you! I like her Ethan!”

“Of course you do Stephanie” Ethan replied, standing up. “Take a seat Black, I’ll get you the coffee. The usual?” he waited before Ava nodded. She watched him leave, then took the seat Stephanie offered her.

“So, he’s tense even when he’s not fighting a pandemic outbreak. It’s like his idea of fun is running blood tests” Stephanie said, sipping on her coffee.

Ava couldn’t help but chuckle, agreeing with her: “Yeah, he doesn’t really relax. We went to an art gallery recently to get some information about the patient, and like, I know we were working, but the intensity with which he observed everything, it’s like he was doing a CT scan with his eyes”

“Yeah, I can imagine that. You know, we had some nights in Brazil when we would like gather around, have a drink, you know, relax a bit. But that guy? Never. Always going over papers or checking supplies. I swear he was tense while we were having sex!” Stephanie explained, huffing.

It was a good thing Stephanie was looking at Ethan, because she wouldn’t have missed the hurt that flashed in Ava’s eyes. She could feel the tear forming. He slept with her? Trying to sound as casual as possible, fighting the turmoil inside her, Ava asked her: “You two, uh, slept together?”

“Yeah, and trust me love, I didn’t think it would happen. I just told him one night that if I had the same problem he was dealing with, I would solve it by hooking up with someone and be done with it. He looked at me as if I’d grown a second head, it was hilarious. He did eventually listen to my advice, though, but it didn’t help his problem” Stephanie explained.

Truth to be told, Ava wasn’t really listening to her anymore. All she could think about was his touch, his lips, how he made love to her, and now all that was marred with pictures of him being with someone else. She thought she meant something to him. Her heart ached. Was I truly nothing to you Ethan?

She stood up fast, just as Ethan approached with her coffee. She took it from him, not able to look him in the eye. “Thank you for the coffee Dr Ramsey, Stephanie, it was nice meeting you, but I must really get going,” Ava said, hurrying towards the exit. She couldn’t hold her tears for much longer.

“Wait Ava, I’ll go with you” Ethan said, but she was already through the door.

“Wait, that was Ava? As in, the Ava, the-girl-you-couldn’t-get-out-of-your-head Ava?” Stephanie asked.

“I knew I shouldn’t’ve told you about her. Actually, I distinctly remember we agreed we weren’t going to mention that conversation”

“I’ll take that as a yes. In that case, I think I fucked up”

Ethan looked at her incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

Stephanie looked at him, sheepishly. “Ok, I might’ve told her we hooked up”

“You what?”

“Look, we were talking about how tense you always are, so I mentioned that not even sex relaxed you. If I knew I was talking to Ava, I would’ve kept my mouth shut!”

“Jesus Stephanie, why on Earth would you talk about that?” Ethan looked at her, anger seeping from him. This could not be happening.

“I’m sorry, you know how I blabber non-stop. I thought she was just a co-worker, not the woman you’re in love with!”

“I’m not in lo-, you know, never mind.” he said, slumping on the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. This should not be fucking happening.

“Now what do you think you’re doing mister, sitting here all miserable? Go after her!”

“And tell her what?”

“Umm, I don’t know, the truth maybe?” Stephanie said exasperated before continuing “Tell her why you slept with me: to try and get her out of your mind before you lost it. Also tell her that it did not work one bit; you still couldn’t not think about her”

“I can’t do that Stephanie. I vowed myself I would keep things professional between us. She has the potential to be one of the best diagnosticians, I won’t let us get in the way of that.”

“Ramsey, don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s bull, and you know it. Who knows, perhaps she might become a better doctor if you give in. Who’s to say you wouldn’t improve as a doctor?”

Ethan looked at Stephanie, who raised her eyebrows to further her point.

“Look Stephanie, I appreciate your well intentions, but I care about Ava too much to jeopardize her future. Thank you for coming, but I need to get back to work.”

“You are a lost cause Ethan. Please think about this.”

“Goodbye Stephanie” was all he said before stepping out of the café.

                                                         ---

She really couldn’t believe she just cried in a supply room. Over something so stupid. Hell, Ethan’s not her boyfriend. He’s her boss. He doesn’t owe her anything and he has every right to sleep with whomever he wishes. But why does it still hurt to even think about it? She wasn’t even mad at Stephanie. Why would she be? She had to give it to her, she has good taste in men. Ava would probably do the same. Hell, she did do the same. She could still remember how he brought her to the edge over and over, how he kissed all the right spots. She remembered him moaning her name and she swears, her name never sounded better to her. Ava brought her fingers to her lips. When he kissed her she felt as if the Earth was spinning rapidly, yet stood perfectly still at the same time. His kiss consumed her, like she was dying and his kiss was bringing her back to life. She never felt like this.

Her pager brought her out of her reverie. Shaking her head, she set out to the free clinic to pick up her shift. She successfully bumped into three different people on her way to the elevators. Way to go Black. She entered the elevator, glad for the few seconds she had to clear her mind, until she realized the only other person in the elevator was, of course, Ethan Ramsey. Just my luck, thought Ava. She was just going to ignore him, until her pressed the stop button and turned to her. “We need to talk”

Ava put on her best neutral face she could muster and faced him. Mistake. His eyes were too distracting. Fuck. “About Mr Robins? I thought June and Baz figured out he ha-“

“Not about the patient. About what Stephanie told you”

Fuck. She can feel the tears forming. Wow, you’re weak the voice in her head said.

“She didn’t tell me anything. At least, not anything we should be discussing” she said, averting her gaze. He just had to stand in front of the buttons, so there’s no way for her to re-start the elevator. Great.

“Don’t lie to me Rookie. We both know you know Stephanie and I hooked up while we were in Brazil”

“I really don’t see the reason why we should talk about that”

“Oh you want to play like that? I thought we were grown-ups who could have a normal conversation, but it looks like I was wrong, because someone still acts like a child.”

“Oh you’re right, someone is acting like a child, but that someone sure as hell ain’t me”

“Is that so Dr Black?”

“Yes Dr Ramsey, it is. Because a grown-up stands by his principles, unlike a child, who changes his opinion when it suits him. In this case, the child is you,” she was facing him once again, but this time with anger in her eyes, jabbing a finger in his chest. “You were the one who wanted to keep things professional. You were the one that decided it was ‘the best for both us’, which frankly, I considered bullshit, but I respected you and your choice. And now you suddenly want to talk about ‘us’? Last time I checked, thanks to you, there was no ‘us’”

“Ava, you know what I meant. Besides, the way you exited the café, it was apparent you were distraught by the news”

“Of course I was fucking distraught! Which is so stupid, because I know that I shouldn’t’ve been. Like you said, you are my boss, not my boyfriend. You have every right to be with whomever you want, and you sure as hell don’t need to explain yourself to me. So why are you doing this? Why do you want to hurt me further if you say there is nothing between us?”

This time, his eyes flashed with anger.

“Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say we never had anything” he growled.

“But you want me to forget about it, Ethan. You want me to be your peer and nothing else. I’m sorry, but you can’t do that to me then. You can’t toy with my emotions like that”

“Ava, you need to know that I regret sleeping with her. Hell, the only reason why I slept with her because I was trying to forget about y-“

“Ethan please, don’t. Please,” she uttered, not being able to contain the tears. It broke his heart seeing her like that. He hated seeing her in pain, and now he was the one who was causing it. Way to go, Ramsey. She continued through her tears: “I can’t do this. Please, I can’t. Do you know how hard it is to not think about you? About our moments together? Do you know how hard I tried to stop myself from falling in love with you? And I failed, I failed so miserably. So please, I don’t know if I ever meant anything to you, but if I did, just the tiniest bit, please don’t tell me about other women. Respect me. That is all I ask. I will be nothing more than your colleague and keep things professional. All I ask is do not remind me of what we could’ve had. What we could’ve been.”

His heart broke with every word, with every sob. He wanted to punch himself for hurting her. She wasn’t only a brilliant doctor, but she had one of the kindest hearts he has ever seen. Her compassion for others simply intensified her medical capabilities. She dealt with her busy schedule, stressed about the budget cuts, she dealt with p.i.t.a. patients, she dealt with patients dying, yet she could always compose herself. And the thing that broke her was him. Him, and his stupid actions.

He pulled her close, cupping her face, resting his forehead on hers. “Rookie, look at me,” he murmured.

Hazel eyes met blue, and he could see the pain so distinctly, it tugged at his heart.

“Forgive me. You were right. I keep telling you we should keep our distance, yet I break it regularly. I am not going to talk about Stephanie, as you wish. But I need you to know this. You mean. You mean so much to me.”

Her lips were so close. Just the slightest move and he would be kissing her, pouring all his passion and emotions he feels towards her in the kiss.

Instead he placed a kiss on her forehead, one last reminder of what it could’ve been. And then he let her go.

He re-started the elevator, his hand aching to go back to holding her, but he resisted. For her.

She calmed herself down, wiping her tears away. They rode the rest of the elevator in silence, and once it opened, Ava looked at him with such fierceness and love in her eyes as if she was looking at him for the last time, which in a way she was. And just like that, they were once again just colleagues. She nodded in acknowledgement. He nodded back at her and watched her leave towards the free clinic, realizing too late she was taking a piece of his heart with her.

#oh #open heart #choices #oh fic #open heart fic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #fanfiction #ethan ramsey fic

[hystericalweenie]

Just Another Day at the Office Series - The Sexperiment

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Three: Meeting Andrew

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n is doing better than ever; she’s finally in a relationship with the man she’s been constantly thinking about, she has some great friends, and she’s thriving at her dream job. Except, there’s one problem: being in a relationship with one of your coworkers can get really steamy, and can cause a lot of sexual frustration. Her new pitch idea may solve exactly that problem, but will George be okay with it?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! **“The Sexperiment” is inspired by an actual Cosmopolitan article (here’s the link!) I also have no personal experience being in a rehabilitation center, so I apologize if the descriptions aren’t accurate. I imagine Andrew as Timothee Chalamet (it won’t let me put the accent over the e on here) but his description could also match Harry Styles, so choose your fighter.... you could also just imagine him however you please, it doesn’t have to be either of them :)

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s NSFW content..aka smut. You have been warned. TW: mention of rehab and drug use. This part is kinda long :/ Sorry!

I sat in the passenger seat of George’s car, staring out of the window at the highway signs passing by us like a blur. George’s hand rested on my thigh, a foreign feeling but nonetheless amazing, as his fingers drummed against my jeans to the beat of the song playing softly on the radio. Dean insisted that I sit in the passenger seat, which I’d felt guilty about but after reminiscing on the sex George and I had just the day before on the very seat, I didn’t feel as guilty. I turned my head enough to examine George’s focused eyes, his side profile as perfect as one could imagine. The shape of his nose to his furrowed eyebrows, the way his waves were in perfect tact on his head, ruffling only when he moved his head to check his blindspots. 

As we pulled into the parking lot, he turned to me, giving my thigh a gentle squeeze before removing it from my leg and turning the car off, shoving the keys into his pocket. We unbuckled ourselves and made our way into the building, stopping at the entrance. George turned his head to me, as if making sure I was okay to go in. I gave him a nod of confirmation, following the boys inside. 

The first thing that I noticed was that the building was cold. It wasn’t warm and welcoming, and I’d hoped that the patients’ rooms weren’t as cold as the entrance. There was an older woman at a large desk, which the boys led me to. George spoke a few words to her and she gave him a clipboard. I didn’t pay attention to their conversation, instead, my eyes examined the room, noticing a woman as pale as the white walls of the building. Sickly dark circles rested under her eyes and her hair was tangled down her back. Her facial structure looked hollowed, her cheekbones sticking out and her eyes looking sunken in. I watched as she followed a doctor down a hallway, away from the entrance, away from my eyesight. My eyes stilled on the place they’d been standing, hoping that this woman would get the help she looked like she desperately deserved. 

“Y/n.”

I turned my head, noticing George, Dean, and a man looking similar to the doctor I’d seen stood ahead of me, motioning for me to follow them. I quickly caught up to them, following as they headed down another hallway and turning into an elevator. As the doors closed in front of us and the machine jerked us upward, I felt George grab my hand. I looked down at his large hand engulfing mine, intertwining our fingers. 

“How is he?” Dean asked, crossing his arms.

The doctor shrugged, the shoulders of his white coat wrinkling as he did so.

“Good,” he began. “He didn’t make a single sarcastic remark in therapy today, so that’s progress.”

The boys chuckled beside me.

“That’s him, alright,” Dean confirmed, his laugh fading as the elevator doors opened.

We piled out of the confined space, walking down a hallway with multiples of doors on each side. We turned into one as the doctor opened it slowly, leaving it open for the rest of us.

“You guys can go down to the courtyard, just have him back up here in an hour,” he notified us, sticking a block in the bottom gap of the door, and leaving back down the hallway. 

My heart raced in anticipation as a bed came into view, a man sitting upright with his legs hanging off the side coming into view. I remembered distinctly how he looked in a few of Dean’s Facebook photos, but it was much different seeing him in person. Much like the woman I’d seen before, his appearance was sickly, his skin pale and dark circles settled under his eyes. He had dark brown hair–almost black–with bright green eyes. His freckles were much more apparent than George’s as they settled on his tiny nose. His eyebrows matched the dark locks on his hair, and they were bushy alike Bree’s. 

He wore grey sweatpants and a black sweatshirt with slippers and hospital socks peeking out of them. His face brightened at my appearance and he leaned away from the bed, moving toward me. George watched with a smile on his lips as Andrew held his hand out to me, which I gladly took. 

“I’m Andrew,” he spoke, his voice deep and American, a welcoming difference from Dean and George’s accents. “AKA the drug addict.”

I snorted, giving his hand a firm shake.

“I’m Y/n, AKA George’s whore,” I mimicked him, showing him my own humorous side. 

Dean gasped a laugh and George rolled his eyes, a blush spreading over his cheeks at my bluntness whilst Andrew nodded, turning to look at his friends.

“I like her,” he stated in approval.

“C’mon, let’s get going,” George muttered, still embarrassed, grabbing my hand and leading us out of the doorway. 

We walked through the hallway in silence, heading back into the elevator we were previously in with the doctor. We entered the confined space, Dean pushing the main floor button, before the doors slid closed and we were jerked downward. George reached for my hand again, offering a comfort for the surprise of the janky machine. 

“So,” Andrew began, clicking his tongue a few times and looking around the closed-in metal walls. “What’d you guys do today?”

Dean shrugged, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Same old, same old,” he replied.

George nodded in agreement.

“This guy, must have been his first day here, whipped his dick out in group therapy; looked as cracked out as I did before I got admitted here,” Andrew explained, earning a chuckle of amusement from Dean and a groan from George.

“Can we please avoid talking about dicks while Y/n is here?” George pleaded in annoyance.

Andrew put his hands up in defense, turning toward me and bowing down to me sarcastically.

“Won’t happen again,” he apologized, making me softly giggle as the elevator doors opened.

We headed down an unfamiliar hallway, coming to a wall of windows in which two security guards were standing in front of. The windows revealed a large courtyard, including multiple benches scattered about. Walking a little further, we reached a door, which allowed us to enter the courtyard. George held the door open for us, joining my side as I slid in lastly.

They chose a bench by a tree, fallen leaves scattering the grass around it. We all seated ourselves, distinct conversations of others across the courtyard filling the air. 

“Being here is causing me to quit smoking, cold turkey,” the green-eyed man revealed, looking down at the grass below us.

“Shit, I forgot about that,” Dean admitted, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth worriedly. “How’s that goin’?”

Andrew shrugged, his slippers gently kicking some leaves aside as he thought to himself before speaking. 

“I suppose it’s a good thing,” he confessed, lifting his head to look at the fellow brunette boy. “It’s hard as fuck, though. I feel fucking awful sometimes, and there’s just nothing I can do about it.”

“You could ask the nurses to bring you straws,” I spoke up. He turned his head toward me in curiosity. “It’ll mimic the feeling and act of smoking; it could help when you crave nicotine.”

He nodded, a small smile taking form on his lips.

“I never thought of that,” he admitted, nudging my shoulder. “Thanks, Y/n.”

I smiled in response, turning my head to George, who was seated at my other side. He smiled down at me in admiration at his friend and I’s interaction, wrapping an arm around my torso and gently squeezing my side. 

“Has George cooked for you yet?” Andrew asked, changing the subject.

I nodded, a blush spreading across my cheeks as I thought about the many times George had cooked me breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the last time being the ratatouille in which I had interrupted with my appearance in lingerie. 

“Yeah, he’s an amazing chef,” I complimented, turning my head to look at George again.

His skin seemed to glow under the setting sun, his hair appearing golden and his eyes bluer than ever. He winked at me, giving my side another gentle squeeze.

“Don’t take it for granted,” my new green-eyed friend warned as I returned my attention back to him. “He used to make us breakfast and dinner everyday and all Dean, here, can do is poach a fuckin’ egg.”

I snorted at this, George joining me in laughter as Dean’s jaw dropped and defensive murmurs left his lips. 

“I can do a lot more than you can, bastard,” Dean defended with a roll of his eyes. “And, by the way, I don’t miss goin’ in the shower after you’ve had a wank.”

Andrew’s eyebrows furrowed at this allegation, George continuing to laugh at their bickering beside me.

“How the hell can you tell when I jerk off?” he interrogated, crossing his arms in his loose hoodie sleeves. 

“Oh, I can tell,” Dean replied with a scoff. 

“Guys, I said no talking about dicks,” George reminded them, still softly laughing. 

The two brunette boys looked at each other with slitted eyes of suspicion, shutting themselves up whilst their expressions continued to argue.

“One time, when all three of us were living together, we had a party,” George began, looking down at me. 

“Oh, I love this story!” Andrew exclaimed beside me, raising a shy fist in victory.

I looked at the two brunettes with curiosity, trying to decipher what George was about to say from their expressions before returning my attention to my lover next to me, looking up at him as he spoke.

“What was supposed to be a small gathering of our closest coworkers turned into a huge party with one invitation on Facebook,” George explained, motioning his head toward Andrew, signifying that he was the one that sent out the Facebook invitation. 

Dean shuffled in his spot on the bench, moving his body to face the green-eyed brunette.

“Yeah, I’ll never fuckin’ forgive you for that, by the way,” Dean groaned. “Someone broke our bloody tile floor! How the fuck do you break a tile floor?!”

“Anyway,” George interrupted, continuing with the story.

He proceeded to tell me about a story of him mistaking a pan of brownies someone had brought for pot brownies, resulting in him getting his first–and quote “most likely his last”–high. He went on to explain how he was convinced the entire flat was physically spinning in circles, causing him to profusely vomit. With cuts in from the two brunettes beside us, I was a giggling mess, imagining my lover as high as a kite. 

Before we knew it, our hour was up, and we returned back to the room in which Andrew was staying in. I stepped away to let the boys speak to him privately for a moment before we bid our goodbyes and exited the building.

After dropping Dean off, I politely asked George if he would stop at my apartment for me to “get a few things”. Without question, probably thinking I needed a tampon, he obliged. I quietly thanked him, hurriedly speed-walking into the building. As I reached the door, I sprinted inside, running to my bedroom to grab my slip, shoving it into my purse. Fixing my appearance quickly, I sprinted out of the complex into a casual speed-walk back to his car. 

As I reached his car, almost entirely out of breath, he started towards his house. With my heart beating in my ears and butterflies taking over my stomach, I awaited the exciting unknown. I watched the way he stared, concentrated on the road in front of us to distract my nerves; watching his jaw clench and unclench at the agonizing traffic. I nearly gasped as he returned his hand onto my thigh, making small, comforting circles with his thumb onto the fabric of my jeans, which I’d been gratefully able to change into before we met with Andrew. 

He turned his head to look at me, his lips turning up into a small smile before returning his eyes to the road. I attempted to bite back the grin that fought to take over my lips, resting my hand over his own on my leg. The back of his hand was smooth and soft, small valleys of his raised veins under my fingertips. My fingers drew shapes at random against his skin, attempting to distract myself from my nerves.  

Finally, we reached the parking lot to his complex. After shutting the car off, he quickly came around to my side, opening the door for me. Blushing, I got out, following him into the building. Going up the stairs, we reached his door, which he fumbled with his keys before finally opening it. Walking inside, I quickly held my purse close to me, remembering what exactly I had up my sleeve.

“Can I use your bathroom?” I asked, trying to sound the least bit suspicious as I could.

He nodded, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Of course, you don’t have to ask.”

I smiled gratefully at him, scurrying to the bathroom by the kitchen. After closing the door behind me, I looked around, noticing the similarities and differences the features of the room had with the upstairs bathroom. This one was much smaller, and had a washer and dryer in place of a shower. Don’t take too long, I reminded myself. Opening my purse and grabbing the bunched ball of satin fabric, I peeled my clothes off, including the mismatched bra and panties; the slip alone would do the job. 

Staring at my reflection in the small mirror above the sink, I admired the way the royal blue of the fabric complimented my skin. I hoped he would think so, as well. Leaving my pool of clothes on the floor, I slowly opened the door, walking out to his sitting figure on the living room sofa, his phone in his hands occupying him. Leaning against the wall, I cleared my throat, making my appearance known. Bringing his eyes up from the screen in confusion, his pupils grew large at the sight in front of him, dropping his phone in the process. Without bothering to pick it up, he stood from the sofa and made his way toward me.

He brought a palm to my cheek in which he slowly dragged down to my breasts, the buds of my nipples hardened through the thin silk. He ran his thumb over a bud once before moving his hand down to my waist, grabbing my thigh and pulling my leg to his side. I moved my hands to his shoulders, resting my weight on him whilst I brought my other leg around him. His eyes examined my face before bringing his nose to gently brush against my own. Our lips ghosted over one another’s, wanting to savor what was to come. 

Pressing his lips to mine, he began his way toward the stairs, lips gently moving against each other’s as carried me up the staircase. Holding my bum and kicking his bedroom door open, he treaded to his bed, tossing me onto it. Breathing heavily from the breath he’d lost while kissing me and the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he panted, eyes scanning my vulnerable state over his comforter, stilling on my parted legs. 

He breathed a laugh.

“No panties, again, love?” he taunted, moving closer until he was hovering over me. 

He moved his hand between us, running a finger with the gentlest touch over my entrance. I could barely feel the pad of his finger against me, and the ghost of his touch made my back arch; I needed him. 

“You’re dripping already, angel,” he whispered, spearmint breath against my face. 

My lips parted at the dirty words escaping his mouth, escaping the kissed-swollen lips of his. He brought his finger to his mouth, sucking on the skin, wet with my own juices. I watched in awe, snaking my hand around the nape of his neck and bringing his lips to mine. We kissed sloppily for a moment, tongues dancing with one another’s without any rhythm, before he pulled away to remove his shirt. I admired his torso as always, the pale, toned skin with moles scattered at random. I sat up, undoing the buckle of his jeans and pulling them down to his calves. 

He kicked the denim off, leaving him in his briefs with an obvious tent at the crotch. He ran his fingers down my sides, slipping the silk over my body with the help of my raised arms, tossing the lingerie to the floor with his own clothing. Moving himself over me and scooting ourselves up toward the top of the bed, our lips met once again. My legs parted for him, allowing him to rest himself between my legs as I tangled my fingers through his dark blond locks. He pressed his clothed bulge against my bare entrance, making me gasp against his lips at the pleasurable relief of built up tension within me. 

Smirking at my noise, he rolled his hips against me, pressing where I needed him once more. Feeling him against me again was like ecstasy, I hadn’t realized how much I needed him again already. I peeled my lips away from his own, unable to conceal my moans any longer as he continued to roll his hips against me. 

“George,” I begged, half-lidded eyes meeting his own. “I need you.”

He smirked, stopping his movements.

“Not just yet, Y/n,” he grinned devilishly. 

I didn’t have time to register what he’d meant. Within seconds, he got to his knees and rolled me over to my stomach. I gasped at the quick movement, turning to look at him in confusion. 

“Get on your hands and knees,” he ordered, yet his tone still soft. 

I smirked, watching his chest heaving up and down, his cheeks blushing, but I obliged. I got on my hands and knees, facing the headboard, my heart racing at the unexpected. I felt his hand gently grasp my ass, rubbing softly; I knew exactly what he was going to do. As soon as his hand left, it joined my ass again. I gasped as I felt him spank me, a slight stinging lingering afterward. I turned my head to look at him, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at me worriedly. I grinned.

“Do it again,” I egged him on.

A smirk took over his lips once again, grabbing my hair in one hand, forming a makeshift ponytail in his fist and bringing his other hand to spank me once more. I gasped, followed by a moan at the sensation of his hand against my bum.

“Didn’t expect you to be such a dirty girl,” he tormented, leaning his torso against my back as he whispered behind my ear. 

Feeling his hot skin against my own, his clothed cock against my core again, my lips parted in bliss.

“You bring it out of me,” I admitted, my voice barely existent through my words.

He chuckled softly; I could feel his warm breath against the back of my ear, his ghostly presence making me more eager to want him. 

“My dirty girl,” he corrected himself, his voice a mere whisper. 

His torso left my back, his fist letting go of my hair as I felt him shuffle on the bed. As I turned around in confusion before realizing that he’d taken off his briefs and tossed them to the floor, he flipped me onto my back, wrapping his arms around my thighs and dragging my body closer to his. Moving back on top of me, his forehead rested against my own whilst he rubbed his cock against my folds, his tip teasingly collecting my leaking juices before slowly entering into me. 

My legs wrapped around his waist instantly, attempting to push him into me further as I ached for any sort of pleasure I could get. Pressing a sweet kiss against my lips, he looked at me cautiously–as if he were worried he’d hurt me–before slamming his hips into mine. My back arched as my head dropped backwards, my body practically going into shock in pleasure. He moved his hips roughly against my own, his pace moving slowly but deeply. I could feel his length already brushing my most pleasurable spot within me, and I found myself moving my hips against his own in an attempt to feel him deep enough. 

HIs hips began moving faster, growing impatient himself and needing to reach his own orgasm. He moved his hand up to my neck, grasping underneath my jaw as his blue eyes watched my eyes roll back in awe at the feeling of his hand wrapped around me. 

“Faster, George,” I pleaded, my voice cracking as I watched him smirk, grabbing one of my thighs and hiking it up to reach the side of his chest. 

Finally, his length reached the spot within me, hitting it over and over again with every thrust. I squirmed beneath him, staring at his face helplessly, my stomach knotting as I felt myself clench around him. His lips parted, hips thrusting just enough to ride out my high before stilling, feeling him spurt inside of me. He released his hand from my throat, pressing a long, tender kiss against my lips before slowly pulling his length out of me. 

I laid there, chest rising up and down before moving myself to lay against him. I rested my head on his chest, a leg sprawled over him. I moved my hand to his chest as well, watching as my fingers ghosted over the auburn hairs that sprouted between his pecks. I felt his hand go to my head, combing his fingers gently through my hair as our breathing patterns calmed down. 

“Stay the night.” His raspy voice accentuated his accent.

I breathed a laugh.

“I can’t,” I sighed, my tired voice cracking. 

He pressed his lips to the top of my head.

“Why not? We can go to your apartment and get your things for tomorrow. And, we can carpool to work together,” he suggested, his voice almost a whisper. 

I lifted my head up, resting my chin against his chest whilst I gave him a look of confusion.

“Are you sure?” I affirmed. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me closer to him.

He began to trail his fingers up my bare back, raking his fingertips gently up and down my spine; my eyes were beginning to close as I rested my cheek back against his chest.

“Do you have the energy to get up right now?” I interrogated, my voice beginning to rasp. “Because, I sure as hell don’t.”

He sighed, rubbing my back with his whole palm, comfortingly. 

“Well, love,” he began, “if it means I get this for the night, then I’ll do whatever I can.”

He spanked my bum, making me gasp, which in return, earned a chuckle from him. I rolled my eyes, removing myself from him as he got up from the bed, stretching, before attempting to find his clothes on his floor. I watched his body contort as he slipped his clothes on, his muscles contracting as he pulled the fabric over his skin. Watching as he reached into his closet, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, tossing them to me onto the bed. 

I didn’t hide the fact that I wanted to smell the clothes, to smell him, this time. I slipped the soft fabrics over my naked body, engulfing me with the sweet scent. 

I, Y/f/n Y/l/n, was about to sleep at my boyfriend–also my coworker–’s house on a work night, risking multiple bad scenarios involving my dream job...but why didn’t I care? 

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #George Mackay smut #fanfic #x reader #x reader fic #1917 #1917 cast

[janelevy]

a reunion

requested by @thena0315 - feel free to send me an ask/message me with any ava bekker related prompts! i’ll take anything sfw, platonic or romantic, with or without any other med characters.

summary: a week before her marriage to connor, ava’s old mentor (yes, the grouchy dude she did open heart surgery on while he was awake) comes for a visit to see how she’s settled in at med. this one was tricky, and i wasn’t able to come up with much for it. it’s also been a while since i watched the episode he appeared in, so if any details are off that’s why. i tried my best <3

warnings: none

“Hello, I’m looking for Dr. Bekker?”

Ava had just emerged from a treatment room on her way back upstairs, but a familiar face at the nurses’ station made her come to a grinding halt. “Dr. Jaffrey?” she called, picking up her pace again until she was next to him at the desk.

It was definitely her old mentor, alright. He turned away from a perplexed Maggie, who wandered off when it seemed clear the visitor found who he was looking for. Dr. Jaffrey looked decent; he had aged a little more since the last time Ava saw him a few years ago. She cringed inwardly at the memory, and hoped against hope the old man wouldn’t bring it up today.

“Dr. Bekker,” he said, moving to shake her hand. His face lit up but his trademark frown remained steadfast, and he was probably the only person in the world who knew her personally and still insisted on calling her by her formal title.

“Dr. Jaffrey,” she replied, accepting his handshake and smiling cautiously. “What brings you back to Chicago? Not another need for surgery, I hope?” Well, shit, she thought. I just reminded him what happened last time. Way to go.

Luckily, he shook his head and took her aside where they were more out of the way of the path of stretchers and hustling doctors. “No, I’ve just been meaning to meet with you again and see how much you have progressed here at Gaffney. I would have contacted you with a formal dinner invite, but I’m afraid I only have about half a day here before my flight to San Francisco. Anyway, I know it has been quite a few years.”

Ava nodded. “Oh. Yes, well... I have had an eventful time here, that’s for sure. I think you might have heard I became an attending here in late 2018. That was a great 30th birthday present.” She chuckled. “Most of the time I work closely with Connor, but--”

“Connor?”

“Connor - Dr. Rhodes.” Ava shifted her weight uncomfortably. It looked like she was going to have to bring up Dr. Jaffrey’s open heart surgery whether she wanted to or not. “He’s the other fellow who operated on you with me a few years ago.”

As expected, Jaffrey’s expression hardened. “Ah, yes. The one who ordered me to be put under against my wishes.” Then, to her surprise, the slightest of grins lifted some of the stern wrinkles from his face. “It seems you’ve found your place here, Dr. Bekker. You appear to be quite happy, if looks alone reveal anything. I know you must be busy, so I won’t keep you much longer. But I have to ask... do you see yourself going anywhere here? There are far more esteemed hospitals that would love to have you on their team, now that you have several years of experience under your belt. With your talent and skill, I could recommend you to Johns Hopkins, perhaps, or...”

He trailed off as her pager went off on perfect cue, like it had heard him mention how busy she was. Ava spared it half a glance then set it back in her pocket, blinking hard. Should she pinch herself? Because this sure as hell felt like a weird fever dream. In what universe was Jaffrey actively seeking her out to praise her? He had been hard on her for as long as she could remember. She distinctly recalled a time he chewed her out in her second year of residency when she misdiagnosed a little girl with pneumonia when in actuality, the patient only had a cold. It took a lot to reduce Ava Bekker to tears, and Dr. Jaffrey had achieved it.

And now here he was, singing her praises. She remembered that day back before she had even been in Chicago a year; when her mentor was on the operating table wide awake, tearing her apart for her choice of tools to fix his heart. She remembered looking up and meeting Connor’s reassuring baby blues through his goggles, and she remembered him ordering an increase in anesthesia until Jaffrey was sleeping like a baby and his mouth was (thankfully) shut. She remembered Connor insisting she proceed the way she had planned, and she remembered the surgery going off without a hitch.

Well, she figured, if the man was still standing before her, and his heart was still beating and pumping blood as it was supposed to, then he had good reason to praise her.

She then thought about the ring sitting safely in her locker right this very moment, because it wasn’t exactly convenient to wear an engagement band while taking latex gloves on and off all day. She thought about how almost a week from now, she would be adding a wedding band to the diamond ring, standing with Connor somewhere else in the city she had grown to love as her own, somewhere nearby the hospital where she had met the love of her life. Soon, “Dr. Bekker” would no longer be her official title. “Actually,” she said, “I’m very happy here, sir. It’s hard to imagine leaving now.”

“Well, alright. I trust your judgment. It is your own career, after all.” Dr. Jaffrey held out his hand again, and she took it.

“Thank you for the visit, Dr. Jaffrey. It was nice to see you again.”

Something twinkled in his eye, and to her shock he pulled her into a stiff one-armed hug. “Please, call me Marvin,” he said. He stepped back and jerked his head toward the front doors of the E.D. again. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Good luck, Ava.”

She smiled and watched him go before turning and diving back into her work.

#chicago med #ava bekker #rhekker #fanfic

[spacetimeconundrum]

For the fanfic ask jawn, let's get some writer commentary on a paragraph from Knots in Time that you're particularly fond of. :D

Oh hey, the Metacrisis/Rose wedding fic! Sure, we can talk about that one. :)

I dunno that there’s one particular paragraph that stands out, so you’re gonna get a few highlights and behind the scenes thoughts, bearing in mind that I wrote this story in (checks publication date on ff.net) 2012, so it’s been a solid 8 years since then. (Actually had to do a quick re-read and poke through my files for a bit to refresh my memory to answer this.)

Popping the rest behind a ‘read more’ because it got long and also, spoilers?

There was a sharp "CRACK", a brilliant flash, and the scent of ozone in the air. The Doctor stood stupefied, part-Time Lord senses tingling, staring at the empty space where Rose had been standing.

"What?"

He blinked. "What!"

The guests looked as shocked as he was. But they weren't left staring with him for long; they were interrupted by a distinctly curious wheezing sound. The Doctor's eyes raised in disbelief in time to see a very familiar, very blue police box appear at the back.

"What?"

Ah yes, I thought I was very clever here, with this call-back to Ten’s favorite reaction to anything unexpected happening / Donna’s first appearance on DW. Feels a little too cutesy-clever now, but maybe it’s fine and I’m just being hard on my old writing.

Also! Why does it matter that the police box is blue here? Of course the Doctor’s TARDIS is always blue, you say, what other color would it be? This is actually because of a different story I hadn’t actually written yet at the time, Unsinkable (and later And Then There Was One), wherein I posit that the Pete’s World Universe actually does have its own Doctor, and his TARDIS is red, because in this parallel universe, most police boxes came in red instead of blue.

(Incidentally, there ARE in fact real red police boxes in the UK, or there were, see proof here.)

I had originally intended (spoilers for a long unfinished/abandoned fic) to have Rose and the Metacrisis Doctor meet the Pete’s World Doctor in Parallel Adventures, which takes place chronologically before Knots in Time, and thus, they’d recognise the red TARDIS if it showed up unexpectedly, so having a blue one pop up means Something is Definitely Up. Well, okay, since I hadn’t actually written those other stories yet, when I did go to write them, I realised I needed a reason why the TARDIS appearing here would be so shocking to everyone, thus the color change for Pete’s World Doctor’s TARDIS. (Overthinking details, in MY fic writing? It’s more likely than you think.)

Other fun things - at the time I actually did some little sketches of a few scenes / bits from this fic, and this is one of them:

Next!

Rose dug through her skirt until she found the hidden pocket she'd had sewn into the dress. Her mother had protested, telling her it was her wedding gown, why would she want to risk spoiling the lines of the skirt with pockets? What could she possibly need to be carrying anyway? Rose was glad she'd insisted. Grinning, she pulled out the two items she never left home without: her Torchwood communicator and the sonic screwdriver the Doctor had made for her as a surprise when he'd recreated his own.

Turning on the communicator, she wasn't exactly surprised to find it was out of range of the Torchwood network. Brilliant. She keyed in the code for the 'Agent in Distress' locator beacon and was rewarded for her efforts by the lights in the room flashing green and a mechanical voice announcing what could only be some sort of warning or displeasure at her actions.

"Didn't like that, did you?" She grinned up at the ceiling, tongue between her teeth. "Just wait for my next trick."

So, I may have a thing for competent!Rose. It was important to me that she not end up the generic ‘helpless companion in need of rescue’, even though, yes, she does need a little help getting back to her wedding from the space ship she’s been teleported to, because plot, but Rose has agency here beyond plot McGuffin, dammit!

See also, Rose engaging in diplomatic relations (good grief those aliens look lame, what the hell, 2012-me) with her captors:

And...

Rose stared at her, struggling to think of something to say as the pieces slowly came together in her mind. The girl had a soft London accent and her mannerisms felt so like someone she knew, it was unsettling. It wasn't until she looked down and noticed the scuffed blue Converse trainers that it finally clicked. She couldn't be.

As if to confirm her suspicions, a familiar voice called out and Rose looked up from what could only be her daughter to see the Doctor come jogging around the corner.

"Jane! How many times have I told you not to wander off? If you're not going to listen then you can go back to wait in the Tar-" He paused mid-sentence when he saw who she was standing next to. "-dis. Hello, Rose."

Fun with time travel! You never know when you’re going to run into your own future, whoops. :)

Sudden, unexpected kid!fic! Because if you’re going to write a ‘happily ever after’ fic, might as well go all-in, right? Not that everyone’s happily-ever-after should or would involve marriage and kids, but it seemed like the sort of future the non-Metacrisis Doctor very specifically can’t have, so why not give it to his half-human double? I dunno.

Upon reflection, this might be the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written, I think.

Future Metacrisis!Doc and kiddos:

-

That’s probably way more information than you wanted or expected about this story, huh? Hope it was entertaining at least!

PS - still kinda proud of myself for the terrible pun in the title of this story

#STC answers questions #writer commentary ask meme #knots in time #metacrisis!doctor/rose #my writing #badxwolfxrising

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

OT3FIC: Rottweiler

17 - Was it a knock that had woken her?

Was it a knock that had woken her? There were a lot of strange noises in the farmhouse - from creaks of floorboards to the sound of cracking in the cold weather to the groans of the wood frame - but this was the first time she had heard that noise.

Rolling out of the armchair with a groan, tugging the borrowed boxers down her legs from the bunching as she got up and scratched at the back of her head and the unbrushed mess that she hadn’t bothered to brush out since waking up earlier that morning when first Will had rolled out of bed to head to work and then shortly after when Grey had done the same for his own business, Jo tiptoed through the alerted dogs as calmly as possible in the hopes of avoiding a barking marathon that seemed on the cusp to begin.

As she reached the door, she tried to flatten her hair down before tugging the borrowed grey t-shirt - picked up from over the edge of the bed and the first thing she’d laid hands on rather than her own sleep shirt, and still smelling faintly of the empath’s sweat and smell - down a little to cover her legs as much as possible before cracking the door open curiously. It was the first time she had been home for anyone to arrive, and Will had been adamant that unless he’d told her Jack was off with him on a day (like he had that morning) she was not to answer the door.

Looking through the crack, she could see a rather pretty brunette woman - and Jo flicked her eyes down to see the rather high heels that put the woman at her own height - with a far too nice jacket and the kind of pinched look to her face as her eyes were running over their house that Jo felt her own face twitching into a frown in response before the woman even made eye contact or spoke a single word. Feeling the press of a cold nose against her bare thigh, Jo glanced down to see Winston’s face smooshed next to her leg and peering out the door expectantly before turning around to go back to his Moping Corner to wait for Will to come home. Shaking her head at the sheer devotion of the dog and how sweet he was, Jo brought her eyes back to meet the shocked crystal blue ones of the other woman.

“Yello?” Jo rolled the word out, pulling the door open more and leaning her side against the door itself, arm stretched up holding it firm and the other resting on her cocked out hip with a curious look at the other. The lack of barking or reaction from their dogs suggested that this woman wasn’t unknown or a threat, and tilting her head to the side at the stunned look from the other, Jo raised an eyebrow. “Can I.. help you?”

The other woman continued to stare for a long moment, and self-concious under the look as well as taking in how nicely dressed and presented the other was compared to Jo’s worn men’s t-shirt, black boxers and birdnest hair, Jo shifted her weight again awkwardly. The unknown lady opened and shut her mouth a few times in a way that made Jo uncomfortable and move to stand upright freely as well as move to shut the door as the silence dragged on for a full forty seconds.

“Well, I guess-”

“Who are you?” The question, sharp and a little accusatory, was in a voice that Jo thought she might have heard a tinny version of through Will’s phone before but couldn’t be certain; before the brunette shifted her own footing and ran another curious, cataloging look over Jo before stopping and staring firmly at her chest. “Why are you wearing Will’s shirt?”

“Uh, I’m ...Beth. And because it was the first thin’ I grabbed.” Jo retorted, letting go of the door as she crossed her arms across her chest defensively, raising her eyebrow back at the other woman all over again. “And you are?”

“What do you mean it was the first thing you grabbed? Why would you be around Will’s shirt without-” The dark haired woman continued to question, the words rushing out of her as if she had no control of herself before her eyes widened in shock, whether at her own question or in realization to the only logical answer to them Jo wasn’t sure, and she shook her perfectly brushed head a few times. “Since when was Will with- Doesn’t he have a boyfriend? I thought I’d met his boyfriend. Why are you here?”

Jo felt her brow rising steadily as the other woman spoke and began questioning her, the desire to slam the door in the other’s face growing moment by moment and word by word. Tapping her bare foot on the floorboards as she waited for the other to finish, the blonde growled out sharply as soon as the other appeared to have paused in her third degree. “And I asked who you are. If you’re unwillin’ to answer, I’m goin’ to say goodbye and ask you to leave. And remind you that we’re in a stand your ground state-”

“Oh! Sorry, I just.. I thought I’d met Will’s boyfriend, I’m confused.” “That doesn’t excuse you being a rude bitch by still not answerin’ my question, lady.” “Apologies, it’s Alana. I’m Alana Bloom. I work with Will, or rather I consult with him, at the agency.”

“Oh, so a Fed but not a Fed? Great, cool, you can leave now.” Jo found her hand moving back to the door as soon as she’d stated the word ‘work’, tugging to begin shutting the door before the other could stare at her any longer.

“I’m a doctor, actually. I just..” Alana quickly cut in, taking a step closer to the door as Jo jerked a reciprocal step backwards and continued to move the door closed, keeping her eyes focused on every little shift she could possibly hope to pick up of the woman’s movements under her heavy coat. “I’m sorry, I thought Will would be at home today-”

“Jack called. Some case next state over.” “Oh, is he likely to be home soon?” “Dunno, lady-” “Alana. Doctor Alana Bloom.”

Jo found herself frowning before letting out a small laugh as she finally placed where she recognized the name from, shaking her head and stopping in shutting the door as she ran another speculative look over the other as her lips pursed. “Oh! You’re Alana Bloom!”

“You’ve heard of me? Who were you again, I’m sorry I missed it, I just-” The brunette returned, a tiny crease forming in her brows as she shifted slightly on the heels that Jo could see were not even half an inch away from slipping in between the gaps of the front porch deck cracks. She shook her head, that bouncy hair swinging again in a way that made Jo think she should spend the afternoon trying out new hairstyles while she awaited the return of her boys, before holding out a hand as if for a handshake. “I’m very very confused. Pleased to meet you, it was... Bec, right?”

“Beth, not Bec.” Jo snapped back, looking down her nose for a moment at the other woman’s hand before she shifted on her feet in a way that made it clear she’d not shake the other’s hand. She knew who that doctor was - she had been one of the ones to betray and condemn Will, she’d been the one to say he should plead insanity, she was the one that had wanted him locked up in a cell for the rest of his days, and she was the one fucking the rugaru - and she had no interest in politeness with the woman. “Now, if all you were after was talkin’ to Will, he’s not likely to be home until late tonight-”

“No, well yes, but I was also supposed to see if Grey was around-” “What do you want with Grey?” “Oh, is that a sore topic? Have he and Will split since the last dinner party?” “No? Why would they have split?”

“But.. If.. You are-” Alana seemed to pause, frazzled by Jo’s snarky tone and general rudeness that she knew she was giving off but was beyond caring towards the dark haired woman. Jo’d made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t play nicely with the woman that thought her soft-hearted man a murderer if she ever crossed her path, and watching the doctor squirm awkwardly on the door step was almost too much fun for her. “Is Grey around?”

“He’s also out.” “Oh, well, um. I was asked, that is rather-” “Yes?”

Alana drew in a calming breath, and Jo felt her lips twitching in the desire to smile watching the other’s lips move through the numbers from ten-to-one in the same way Jo would find herself doing to collect herself or relax some times, before shaking her head and twisting her hands into each other in front of herself. “Hannibal and I will be hosting a social event this Saturday night, and we were hoping both Will and Grey would be available - Hannibal especially wanted to let Grey know there would be plenty of vegetarian options in both the canape and dinner portions.”

“Oh will there now?” “Yes, unfortunately the last time they were at dinner, Hannibal hadn’t been told-” “From what I remember, Will told him. He just forgot. Must be the old age.” “Excuse me?!”

Jo bit down on her lip to stop the laugh bubbling out at the offended look that crossed the other’s face immediately, and forcing her mirth to stay off of her face, she continued in the same disinterested tone she’d used for the rest of the dull conversation thus far. “Grey distinctly told me when they got home that Hannibal had said Will had told him and it had slipped his memory. It is the first thing to go with old age after all.” Jo paused for a second, tilting her head back at the other, before asking with the most innocent tone she could muster, “Has he experienced any impotence yet?”

The brunette spluttered for a moment, eyes wide and eyebrows high, as Jo stared back with a look of curiosity on her face, blinking owlishly at the other. She knew that Hannibal had lied, and Grey had had a great time the next morning after Will had left for work telling her with abundant detail exactly how the night had gone, but looking across at the other, she was sure that the rugaru never shared such intimate and carefree moments with his flavor of the month. She was sure that the dark haired doctor never woke up wrapped up in warm, loving arms and had mornings filled with laughter with her lover.

“Well, I just wanted to make sure that Grey knew that he’d have plenty of options.” Alana finally snapped out, crossing her arms herself as she stared back into Jo’s gaze before dropping it after a few second. A smile curled onto the blonde’s lips at how quickly that happened, before schooling her face back to the same bored look as the other woman continued. “Regardless, Will and Grey were invited - and I.. I’m sure if Hannibal had any idea that Will had a sister staying with him-”

“I won’t be here this weekend.” “Oh.” “Yeah.” “Well-”

“Okay lady, is that all?” Jo had felt her teeth shifting into a grit the second the word ‘sister’ had come out of the woman’s mouth, and gritting tighter the longer she spoke now she was stuck trying to decide if she corrected the other - and corrected her in so much detail - or left it at the misunderstanding; when she felt a hand come about her waist and jumped a tad in surprise. Twisting her head to where the other had come up behind her, Jo found herself smiling in relief that she could hopefully excuse herself from talking to the woman that was making her feel so inadequate yet so annoyed all at once. As the shadow leaned down to press a kiss against her forehead as she tilted her head back to look at him, Jo felt her lips twisting into the widest smirk as she tilted properly to catch the other’s lips on hers. As she pulled back and leaned into his front, Jo found herself turning back to yet another gaping look of shock on the brunette’s face with a wicked grin. “Hey hun, you get in through the back? Doctor Bloom here was just droppin’ ‘round to invite you boys to a dinner party on the weekend.”

“Was she now?” Jo could practically feel the shudder run through the dark haired shadow at the idea of being at yet another of the rugaru’s parties, and smirked wider at the level of disgust in his tone as Grey replied, shifting his weight and moving about as if to shift her away from the door. “Well, that’s very kind of you, Doctor Bloom.”

“Alana is.. Alana’s fine.” “Well, kind of you then Alana. I’ll have to check out schedule to see who’s home over the weekend and get Will to let Hannibal know.” “Oh, I guess that works.”

“Sure. Fantastic.” Grey’s voice was hard in a way that Jo’d not heard for a while, and turning her eyes up to his face she was a little surprised at the nasty, smile that was on his face as he shifted his hold on her waist to pull her closer and slightly behind him from the other with a wink at the other woman. He raised an eyebrow at her archly and asked with a cool tone underneath the genial sound, “Was there anything else we could help you with, Alana, or can I get back to my plans for the day?”

“Oh, no that’s all. I guess.” The woman stumbled over her response, eyes transfixed on the way Jo could feel Grey’s hand sliding up her side in an entirely unfriendly way that made her want to laugh watching the other’s face twisting in confusion all over again. The thought ran through her mind that possibly Will would have a hard time explaining this at the office next time he ran into the brunette, but Jo didn’t think he’d particularly mind and given how obtuse the woman seemed to be - what with her sleeping with a rugaru that would most likely one day suck the marrow out of her bones - Jo thought she might not even understand what she was looking at as it was. Alana’s hands flapped a little impotently, as if she was tossing up holding them out to shake again or raise them to wave before she gave a single decisive nod and turned on her heel after speaking. “Okay, I hope to see you on the weekend, Grey. And nice to meet you, Beth. Good day.”

“See you later,” Jo snapped back, reaching out with a hand to shut the door firmly as soon as the other woman had turned her back, pushing it shut with a quiet slam before she turned into the arms around her with a tiny scowl, adding sassily, “Hopefully never, you bitch.”

“Really now Jo, did you not like her?” Grey asked, his voice far too innocent sounding as he leaned down towards her, head resting onto her shoulder as her arms went around his shouldrs in a greeting hug. “Here I thought you’d find plenty in common with the doctor.”

“Of course not - I’m not datin’ a psychopathic evil monster, and I don’t try to lock Will up...against his will.” “Huh, well, when you put it like that-”

“I do put it like that!” Jo let out a laugh at the other nuzzling into her neck almost immediately and the way he seemed to be laughing just as much along with her as his hands shifted up her back. Letting out a sigh, she raised one hand from his shoulders to rub at her forehead tiredly. “Well, at least she didn’t seem to recognize me-”

“Why would she recognize you? You’ve never met.” “My file, hun. She works at the agency sometimes, she might have seen-”

“Oh. Oh fuck.” Grey breathed the words out, pulling back from his hold on her to look between her face and the front door for a second as they heard the dull sound of a car door slamming shut. Releasing his hands from her sides, Grey looked back down at her briefly before nodding firmly seemingly to himself. “Okay, don’t worry about it. I’m on it.”

Jo blinked in surprise watching as he jerked the door back open and seemed to run out, shrugging a shoulder as she moved into the doorway, leaning her hips and head up against the door frame as she watched him approach the car. She couldn’t see what happened but as he came walking back over a few minutes later and the way she could see the other woman shaking her head a few times before she pulled out of the drive, Jo could imagine what had happened; and reaching out as he got to her, Jo found herself pressing up on her tip toes to brush her lips to his in thanks that at least that would probably be taken care of long enough for the other to forget all about her encounter in the doorway without any extra help.

#ot3 grey/jo/will fic #jopov

[sleepyfan-blog]

Sleepy Dream [Part 2]

Fandom: Undertale AU

Part two of this. Part three here. 

Characters: Dream, Science!Sans, WD Gaster

warnings: cursing

word count: 1,883

Summary: Dream decides to go to Sci for help.

A month later, and Dream was definitely sure that it wasn’t because of the timelines they’d been fighting to protect. He’d managed to convince Stretch of that though, and the Swap Papyrus had stopped gently poking him. But Dream had no idea what was wrong… And the positive guardian could admit, at least to himself, that he needed someone else’s help in figuring out what was going on. But who had the expertise and the ability? Not to mention the access to whatever resources he might need to deal with whatever was wrong. While he could tell Ink about the issue… Dream grimaced a little. The artistic skeleton wasn’t his first choice for talking about such an issue with. Mostly because he was pretty sure that Ink would just laugh it off, pat him on the head and tell him to take a nap.

He was currently wandering around in a pretale, hiding from the monsters in the underground per Ink’s rules of only Sanses and Papyri getting involved in the multiversal shenanigans - as the more beings aware of them in a single AU, the more likely that Error was to notice where they were. Or at least, that’s what the other said was true… And Dream had no reason not to believe the other. His eye lights brighten as he realized that the Science Sans of this AU was already aware of the multiverse and a good friend and ally of Ink’s… And someone who Dream was relatively sure he could trust with this issue.

The positive guardian waited until Sci was on his lunch break - and from the looks of it, he’d grabbed enough Grillby’s for the entire team beneath the Royal Scientist (who was a Gaster currently, if Dream wasn’t mistaken), shadowing the other until he was walking through an empty spot in Waterfall before calling out “Hey Sci! Uhm… Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Sci turned around, his eye lights widening a little, before a bright smile appeared on his face “Oh, heya Dream! Got a new gadget that you want me to take apart and put back together? There shouldn’t be anyone else around during this time - everyone’s either at work or sleeping.”

“Ah… No. Actually I was… I was hoping if you could help me with a personal issue, actually.” Dream started, fidgeting with his hands a little “I’ve been having some issues keeping my energy levels up to where they normally are and I don’t know why. I’m not hurt and as far as I know, I didn’t pick up any negative stat effects or curses.”

Sci hummed a little, frowning a bit “How long’s this been going on? Can you tell me what your signs and symptoms are?”

The positive spirit sighed a little, explaining what he’d noticed… And finished semi reluctantly with “And this has been happening for about three months now. The passive MP and energy loss is… About 10 MP per hour. I’ve been snacking on monster candy and cinnabunnies to counteract that but… It’s starting to become less effective. Also while sleeping for eight hours does restore me back to full MP, that only lasts for about three hours - less if I get into a fight.”

“That’s… How much MP do you even have if a loss of 10 MP an hour isn’t a noticeable dip in power? Stars above, Dream. That could be really dangerous!” Sci sputtered, his eye lights shrinking to panicked pinpricks for a moment “Of course I’ll help you. I’ll… If you’re not physically hurt, it could indicate that you might have… I’ll need to check your Soul.”

Dream winced at that, fidgeting a little. Most people had really strange reactions to seeing it. Given the fact that it was colored, I'm not in the shape of a normal, for either a human or a monster. The fact was that Dream was neither, but he tended not to like to think of that fact as it was simply easier for him to be assumed to be just a normal skeleton monster. It was a lot easier and to allow others to make assumptions then to explain the truth and have to go into details about his past that he did not want to speak about to anyone ever. “I… ok. Will you be able to run the tests during the day, or should I come back when you're off-shift?”

“Dream, I know that you and Ink have this no-interference policy. And I can understand why it’s in place. But this could be a very serious issue. I’ll be the one taking the data and looking it over, but I’m going to have to report this to my boss - because I’m going to have to be using some of the Soul equipment which none of us are allowed to do except under certain circumstances. A… Condition like yours being one of them. I’ll only tell Doc G though. And he’s good. A little weird, but he’s good. Trust me on this, I’m an excellent judge of character. He’ll also be helping me look at the data as he’s got a lot more experience with these things than I do.” Sci explained, suddenly grabbing one of Dream’s wrists and teleporting the two of them directly in front of the labs. The younger skeleton fumbled with his keycard for a moment before swiping it and marching the both of them into the top floor of the labs.

The Dr. Alphys was on the floor, along with several other monsters whose names Dream did not know off of the top of his head. In the middle of all of them, quietly talking to the Alphys, was a Dr. Gaster. He was just as tall and intimidating as any other Gaster who Dream had tentatively peeked at from behind a tree (or Ink) and the positive guardian dug his heels in for a moment “Sc… Saaaans!” He fussed, tugging at the other before stumbling forwards, an unhappy groan coming from the back of his throat as he realized that he was wholly incapable of stopping the younger skeleton from dragging him around like a ragdoll. He called the other Sans,  rather than his nickname as this was going to be strange enough as it was.

“Uh… Sans… Who’ve you got there? I didn’t realize there were any other skeletons in the underground about from the doc,  you and your brother…” A snake-like monster spoke up, moving towards the two of them curiously.

“That’s because he’s not from the Underground. Or this universe. Everyone, this is Dream the source and protector of all positive feelings in the multiverse. He’s in dire need of help and may be dying a little bit. Here’s the grub, I’m going to be on sub level five - and he’s not gonna react well to being poked and prodded by anyone but me. Don’t ask me how or why I know him, just that I do.” Sci explained, throwing the bags of Grillby’s at the cat monster - who caught the food immediately. Everyone around them was staring in utter confusion as Sci stomped over to the elevator, still dragging a limp and face palming Dream behind him.

“Why did you tell them that?” Dream asked, voice muffled as they waited for the elevator to show up “And can’t we just teleport down there?”

“Because they would have asked a bunch of questions and trying to lie to them is damn near impossible. Especially since this is not something that is probably going to be fixed after a quick check-up. Besides, all of them have met Ink before. Alph found his dumb ass passed out in a puddle of paint half-dead before you showed up and dragged him inside to get healed. So they’re aware that the multiverse is more than just a concept, and that there are protectors trying to keep glitch head from destroying all of us.” Sci explained impatiently “And there are anti-teleportation wards on the lower levels of the labs to prevent potential theft. Or Ink wandering in and seeing how many things he can poke and mix together until something explodes.”

“Oh. Okay…” Dream responded, managing to finally get his feet under him. He shuffles a little bit closer to the younger skeleton, distinctly distressed by the way that the scientists are watching him and tries to shake off the desire to run and hide. He… People watching him with that sort of intensity usually doesn’t entirely end well. “Uhm… They’re kind of… Staring… A bit?”

“We look a lot alike, Dream. And I kind of shoved a lot of information their way. They’re good people, Dream. We’re safe here.” the younger skeleton murmured as the elevator dinged and the two of them stepped into it.

Dr. Gaster followed behind them before the elevator doors could close. “I believe you’ll need my help, Sans.” He murmured glancing curiously at the both of them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ah, Dream I believe it was? I am Doctor Wing Dings Gaster, although most Call me Doctor Gaster… Or Doc G, if they’re feeling particularly cheeky.”

The positive spirit couldn’t help the flinch - nor could he help the fact that he grabbed Sci and pulled the both of them into the furthest corner of the elevator, trying and failing to teleport them out of there, starting to shake a little. He was holding Sci close to him, the both of them scrunched into the corner of the elevator as Dream trembled as he stared up at him. He wanted to believe Sci when he said that this Gaster was good… But with the other’s tall, looming presence and the way the other’s darker magic pressed against his senses, Dream was feeling incredibly trapped at the moment.

“Dream… Dream did you have a bad encounter with a Fell G recently? Or… Hell, did you run into a Handplates Gaster recently? I promise you. He just wants to help. He’s not going to hurt anyone. It’s okay. We’re safe here. You can trust us. We won’t hurt you.” Sci attempted to soothe, his calm, caring emotions - along with the neutrally curious emotion coming from Gaster were helping somewhat.

“...Sorry. I just… I don’t… Like asking for help… From anyone and wasn’t expecting to be introduced to a room full of beings and my weakness shouted at them.” Dream managed out, voice quiet and trembling. He didn’t mean to cause the flash of guilt that ran through Sci, he really didn’t. “And I did tell you earlier that I can’t die of natural causes.”

“You could be cursed or something, and it’s hidden well enough that it doesn’t pop up on a surface check, Dream. I’ve seen the occasional curse like that. It’s slow-acting, but it’s insidious and has taken lives if not stopped.” Sci answered back bluntly, shaking his head a little as they reached their stop “And I like hugs… But please let me go this is our stop.”

“... Okay. I… I trust you, Sci. And you did mention that this Dr. Gaster is trustworthy… So I’ll take you at your word.” The positive spirit responds quietly, letting his friend go and following him out of the elevator and into one of the labs.

#my writing #science!sans #dream #wd gaster #cursing tw

[shield-agent78]

Linguistics  Chapter 4: Fight For It

Summary: Ema is a linguists specialist who works at the newest SHIELD facility in upstate New York. She has been trough a lot of hard times. Soon she meets a super soldier with a metal arm that she can’t get enough of and the feeling is very mutual. This is my first fan fiction. Enjoy! I do not own any of the Marvel characters. I own Ema and the plot.

Paring: Bucky X OC (Ema)

Warnings: Fluff, language, PTSD, some jealousy, mentions of sex

A/N: Please tag and re-blog so I can share my work with others. I appreciate any comments. This is also posted on Wattpad Thanks!

Fall had finally arrived to New York. That meant changes in weather, leaves and missions. Now this might not be new for those who actually experience these wonders, however for me being from Louisiana this was a real change. I was usually in shorts to past Halloween, now I was pulling my favorite fall outfits. Today it was an my tall brown boots, brown leggings, and my favorite longer silk shirt. 

The compound was too quiet today allowing me to finish my reports in record time, especially since my workload had been cut down to just one person instead of three being that Steve and Natasha were in Nepal. Therefore, I  wondered the compound discovering various labs, visiting with Tony who had made one of his rare appearances and now working my way to the private gym that belonged to two super soldiers. As I approached it I heard music as well as the muffled hits of a punching bag. I smiled knowing who was already in there, I stood leaning against the door frame biting my lip while watching Bucky hit a boxing bag into pieces. His chestnut hair pulled up half way. His body covered with a maroon tee shirt while a pair of dark gray sweatpants hung low on his waist. He hung another bag onto the chain and began yet another brutal attack on it as I watched from the doorway. He was focused as sweat ran down the side of his face. I bit my bottom lip watching him train. 

I decided he needed a break. Training is great, but I think I could offer a distraction. I quietly walked up behind him and put my arms around his waist.  I felt Bucky stiffened for a moment but a smirk appeared on his face. A couple of lighter hits on the bag occurred as I hung onto his waist. 

“Does this mean your coming to train with me?” He asked punching the bag some as his blue orbs found my eyes in the gym mirror wall. I gave him a flirtatious smile.

“Not a chance solider. Just taking in the view.” His chest rumbled with amusement as he gave the bag a few more lighter hits. I bit my lip again as I watched his eyes dart from me to the punching bag. I moved his shirt up to the middle of his back and began kissing and licking up his back and back down to his waist. Bucky immediately stopped what he was doing and placed his hands on the bag with his eyes closed. He breathed deeply. By the third time, of me moving my lips up his back he was tired of my teasing. Within a matter of  seconds, I found myself spun around against the gym mirrored wall. His lips crashing into mine making sure his tongue explored my mouth. The kiss deep and full of desire that I hadn’t felt from him before.

My hands distinctly went to his hair as I moaned out his name almost like a prayer. "Ja-mes." Bucky broke the kiss and looked me up down. 

(Bucky POV)

"Always hated being called James but god I love the way you say it."  I licked his lips and looked at Ema. "I have been meaning to ask you something now for a while now," I reached my right hand over my neck taking off my dog tags before placing it around her hers.  "Would you to be my best girl?" Our foreheads now touching.

"I think you already know my answer sergeant," she said as she reached up and gently stroked my face.

“Want to hear it from you Doll.”

“Yes, James. I’m yours,” she said with a smile. I looked into her eyes and then closed them as she kissed me.

(October... Ema POV)

Bucky had taken over a small apartment in the compound so that when he came home late from a mission he could crash there for the night. It also helped him if he needed to get away from everyone. Over the last month, I had seen him struggle with PTSD and helped him as much as I could. I found him there late one morning watching T. V. He asked me to stay with him as I curled up to him on his leather couch watching his newest favorite movies the Die Hard trilogy. By the middle of the second movie he had fallen asleep with his arm draped over me in a protective manner. Three missions in less than a month had him exhausted. “Baby let me up,” I groaned as I tried to move his left arm off me. 

"Hey doll where are you going?" He voice gruff from sleep.

"Home and you are going to bed." I said giving him a little smile. 

"I rather you come to bed with me." Well this was a first.  I gaped at him a moment.

“Augh wh-what did you just say?” Bucky just gave me a chuckle.

“I said I would rather you come to bed with me,” his blue eyes flashing and lip turned up into a little smirk.

“You know that is something I would may consider doing Sergeant however I don’t think we need to discuss it now with you being so tired.” He grabed my hand and pulled me back down on the sofa as he propped himself up with his left arm.

“It’s real simple Ema especially after yesterday“ I slowed hard.

“I have no ideal what you mean James,” I teased.

“Oh I think you do. ‘Cause me and you both know we are both not that innocent sweetheart.” I broke into a grin.

“Where would you come up with that idea?”

“I don’t know maybe because of us making out in the supply closet yesterday when we were expose to be doing inventory in the lab. If I recall you and I both know where our hands were.”

“Ye-yes it’s just ugh because you had been gone for a while. Besides I didn’t know you were even thinking about that and well and you see ugh…” my lips rambled. James just looked at me in amuzement cocking his eyebrows at me. I guess he finally got enough. He placed his right hand in my cheek caressing it softly. I closed my eyes and lent into his touch.

“Trust me Doll I ant going to do anything you don’t want me to do.”

Yes I know,” I signed. But oh how I want you too.

“Besides we don’t have to be in any hurry I just thought we should tal-…”

For some stupid reason blurted out my thoughts currong him off. “You got a condom? If not we could wait until I see the doc tomorrow and I can take care of it then?” I gaped and blushed at my own words. Bucky gave me a grin as I dropped my head into the crook of his neck. “Sorry mouth overload. I think it’s an Louisiana trait but I can’t swer by it. Oh god James I really didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

“As tired as I am I think after your doctors appointment is good; besides it’s fine Doll. We don’t have to rush into this.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled into his neck. His chest rumbled in a quiet chuckle. I leaned down and gave him a soft kiss on his lips and stood up making my way to his door.

"Sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

“Night Doll.”

————————————————————————

Hours had passed since I had left Bucky. Natasha and I were working together fixing supper in the compound kitchen. Steve sat at the bar going over files for a new mission of rouge H.Y.D.R.A operatives.  I had just put the hamburgers on to cook but was stopped by F.R.I.D.A.Y.,  "Ema, Mr. Barns has asked you to come to his room." I looked at the clock, 5 PM. "Ya ok tell him I'm on my way." Steve gave me a grin and took over the burgers so I could go and check on Bucky. 

Several moments later I was standing outside his door. “F.R.I.D.A.Y unlock Barns door for me.” The locks clicked and I walked inside closing it behind me. I found him where I had left him, still on the couch. His body flinched and shook. 

"EMA! GET AWAY!! NO!!"

I jumped at the sound of his scream and ran to him, shaking him. "Buck. Buck. Bucky!!" I shook him again trying to wake him. He opened his eyes in a flash his face cold and void of emotion. "Oh God, this isn't good." I jumped back. Bucky quickly stood up and looked at me. It was like he didn't know me for a moment. I backed away from him the back of my legs hitting the table behind me. 

The super soldier took two giant steps towards me letting out a loud grunt.  In one swift movement, he reached his metal arm around my right arm flipping me over the table onto the ground. "Ouch!!" Pain shot through my body. That would leave a bruise. Now flat on my back, I tried to plan out my next move. His eyes locked onto me like I was his target. I looked up at him and yelled. "BUCK! SNAP OUT OF IT!! IT'S ME, EMA!!!" Bucky reached down to grab me again but stopped. I took a deep breath. He blinked his eyes trying to fight off the confusion. 

"Jesus, Ema. What did I do?" His hands and voice shook as he helped me up and immediately let go of me. I stood there rubbing my arm. I looked  down at the floor as I tried to control my breathing. "Are you ok? Baby, please say something. What did I do?" I looked up to see concern and anger flooding his eyes.  He ran his fingers through his hair as I let out a breath.

"I'm ok," I said still rubbing my arm. "You had a nightmare and I tried to wake you and. . ." Bucky took a deep breath and sat back down on his couch.

"Let me see your arm." Oh no, I thought. I knew that tone. The forceful one he used with the task force. I showed him with reluctance. It was already starting to bruise. He sat there for a moment looking down while running his hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry . . . I'm so sorry."

"James it's fine. I've had worse from training with you and Steve." I lied.

"You're not a good liar you know." He stated his blue eyes shoting up to mine. 

Bucky pulled me onto his lap. He looked at my arm once more and gritted his teeth. "You need to stay away from me. Far away. I can't be with you." He spoke with a firm voice trying to hold back his anger with himself.

"What the hell, Barns? Just because of this." It came out harsh and I knew it, nor did I care. "Do you realize what you mean to me and I know you feel the same way." I pulled away from him and got up so I could face him.

"I could hurt you or worse yet kill you! Don't you get it, Ema!" I jumped. He knew he had scared me. He bit his lip. I knew it was pain talking and PTSD, not Bucky.

"No, you don't get it! I've been there. No not like you Buck but yes I do know! You're scared, so am I, but it our relationship and it is worth the risk." Angry tears began to fill my eyes.

"You know nothing about this," he snapped at me now with that forceful tone again. "Just leave, get out!!" His jaw was clenched.

I blinked away tears as he sat staring at me. I turned and left slamming his apartment door behind me. I quickly made my way down the hall to the open kitchen area of the joint apartments. Steve and Natasha looked up from the files they were going over and gave me concern looks as I walked towards the bar area. I knew that they had most likely heard everything. I held up my head, tears now streaming down my face that I quickly brushed away. Natasha left her seat st the bar and quickly moved over to me pulling me into a small side hug.

Natasha's POV:

It took me about two seconds to figure out what just happen. I held on to Ema for a moment as we heard heavy footfall coming down the hall. Bucky soon appeared in the common room. I let go of Ema and turned to face him.

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[fourteen-teacups]

A Night Out - Part 4

Thank you again to all who have supported this story! I hope you enjoy the final installment. I am forever grateful to Birdy and Ginchy for hanging in there with this fic and for helping me add some depth to it.

In the week that followed their night at the club, Trixie couldn’t help but notice a few subtle changes in her colleagues. Shelagh, for one, was displaying a bit more social confidence around the nurses and this had already begun to have a positive effect on their skill as a midwifery team. During an especially complicated labor two days ago, the budding friendship between Shelagh and the three nurses resulted in the absolutely vital abilities not only to communicate non-verbally but also to offer the proper emotional support to both mother and fellow midwives. On the other hand, Shelagh was still the soul of professionalism around Dr Turner, much to Trixie’s disappointment, although she had noticed her making a bit more effort to engage him in conversation. She would have to see if there was an additional something she could do to pave the way for those two; after all, she was nothing if not determined. And speaking of Dr Turner, he had been unusually distracted this week, forgetting to follow up on several inquiries and often appearing like he was lost in his own world with alternatively a mysterious half smile or a melancholy look in his eye. She couldn’t fathom the reason for either, but she vowed to pay closer attention in the hope she might find out.

Trixie, Jenny and Cynthia were delighted when Shelagh began to alter her break time routine; still taking some of her time off on her own, she had joined the nurses for almost half of her free time this week. The foursome were slowly growing closer as Shelagh grew more comfortable, she was letting them in and sharing her own confidences. During some of their talks they even touched on various personal topics of their past and current lives.

Today, Trixie and Shelagh were the first to arrive in the hospital tearoom, saving a table for the rest of their group. Seeing as she had Shelagh on her own for a brief moment, Trixie decided to take the opportunity to work on her matchmaking plan.

“Has Dr Turner agreed to help with the fete?” she asked innocently.

Shelagh looked down at her lap, her cheeks turning a pale pink. “I’m sure he has more important things to do with his time,” she hedged.

“Have you asked him?” Trixie wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily.

“I… I haven’t had the chance to,” Shelagh waffled.

“Is that so…” Trixie grinned, “not even one chance during any of those tete-a-tetes you’ve shared this week?”

Shelagh’s blush was crimson this time. “Trixie…” she whispered, glancing nervously around her.

“You don’t need to worry Shelagh, no one is paying any attention to little old us,” she laughed.

“Well,” Shelagh continued quietly, “it is true that I have found myself engaged in a few more...discussions with Doctor as of late; but I seem to be feeling more comfortable speaking to everyone on the ward since I’ve become friendly with you and the girls.”

“That’s wonderful! Most of the staff would love to get to know you better; you have a lot to offer as a friend.” she stated earnestly. Then with a mischievous twinkle in her eye she added, “and he is quite handsome.”

Shelagh looked back down at her lap but she couldn’t completely hide the grin she was trying to suppress nor the sparkle in her own eyes. Instead she gave in to both and, with her gaze still downcast, nodded ever so slightly in reply.

Trixie, giddy on the wave of her sleuthing triumph, took pity on her and moved their chat toward a more benign topic.

When Cynthia and Jenny finally appeared, bearing tea and biscuits, Shelagh was sufficiently recovered. The younger nurses gossiped about the latest exploits on each of the more popular wards before Shelagh brought them back to matters concerning the rapidly approaching hospital benefit.

“You’ll be happy to learn that our curate, Reverend Hereward, has agreed to serve as keeper for Beat the Goalie,” Shelagh smiled, directing her comment at Trixie; clearly there was more than one romantic at the table. “We’ll set that up, along with all of the other games, on the far side of the fountain,” she added, gesturing to the square across the road.

Trixie’s eyes lit up as she inquired, “Then may I please request that the tombola is within a good viewing distance?”

“You may,” Shelagh replied primly and made note of it, but her dimples gave her away. “Now Timothy and the Cubs are going to handle the Pick a Lolly, but we could do with some young men at the Tug o‘ War and someone with good organizational skills at the Egg and Spoon Race.”

Jenny volunteered to appeal to the Children’s Ward for junior doctors who might be available for the Tug o’ War, then offered to Cynthia, “If we stop by the dispensary together with a clipboard in hand, we can look official while innocently asking for Egg and Spoon volunteers.” Cynthia blushed, but nodded her agreement.

“Wonderful!” Shelagh beamed, “now before our shift starts back up, do you think we could walk over to the square and plan out where we can fit the rest of the stalls?”

Consent was demonstrated with the scraping of chairs on lino and the gathering up of the remains of their tea. Three nurses headed towards the entrance but Trixie turned in the opposite direction, calling after them, “I’ll meet you there in two ticks, I just need to fetch my jumper.”

As Trixie ran back into the ward for her cardie, she could hear whistling, of all things, coming from Dr Turner’s office. She slowed until she came to a spot where she could just see inside. He stood behind his desk, straightening files and swaying slightly to the rhythm of his tune -- a tune she distinctly recognized.

Catching sight of her, he abruptly stopped whistling, “Nurse Franklin, is there something you require?”

“Oh no, just popping back for my jumper,” she informed him brightly, stepping to the doorway; then because she couldn’t let it pass without comment, “I wouldn’t have taken you for a Caro Emerald fan.”

“Sorry?”

“That song you were whistling, it’s by Caro Emerald.”

“Oh? Haven’t heard of her, must have overheard it somewhere though,” he continued to move files around his desk, appearing rather flustered.

“You know,” she pressed the issue, “a few of us nurses sang that same number at the staff night out last Friday.”

He fidgeted nervously, rubbing his thumb against his forefinger. “Staff night? Oh, right. You sang a song you say?”

Trixie hid a smile; he was a terrible liar. “We sang that very song. Myself along with Nurses Lee, Miller...and Mannion.” She watched him suppress a twitch then swallow with apparent difficulty when she mentioned Shelagh’s name. “In fact,” she went on, “it was Nurse Mannion who chose that particular tune.”

He started to speak, then cleared his throat before continuing nonchalantly, “Did she?”

Trixie turned and spoke over her shoulder as she left, “Indeed, it seems she has a soft spot for one of the doctors here.” Moving back to her original place of concealment, Trixie watched as his face smoothed into a look of peaceful joy. It was short lived, however; in the next moment he sighed and shook his head, as if resigning himself to disbelief, then fell back into his chair and set himself to the task of endless paperwork.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Another Friday night arrived, marking two weeks since Patrick’s clandestine visit to the club and what an agonizing fortnight it had been. He was exhausted by his attempts to hide from the staff that anything had changed, when in fact, for him, everything had. He knew what love was, had been in love before, and this was without a doubt the state he was in. It was definitely not just mere attraction, although that was what had finally brought her to his attention. And that bloody song, he couldn't get it out of his head, let alone the memory of her singing it. His one mistake had been allowing himself to be overheard by Nurse Franklin; but he had avoided her suspicion, he hoped.

His mind had been filled with Nurse Mannion these past handful of days and as a result every aspect of her person had been brought out into the light: her compassion and competent care for their patients, her calm and kind manner with both senior and junior nurses, the passion she displayed in her vocation of service and healing, the time she took for Timothy. Here, it seemed, was the answer to his thoughts and questions of just a few weeks ago. At the time he hadn’t felt ready to seriously consider the possibility nor had he any idea of how to begin again. Yet here she was, and had been, as if waiting for him to reawaken. The bittersweetness of his predicament, however, did not escape him. Each day he looked forward to working with her, finding he enjoyed her humor and skill much more than ever before; yet he knew that was all he could have. Would it become easier to settle for only that small part of her as time went by? He supposed it would have to.

Now, as his evening shift drew to a close, Patrick glanced over at the small couch in his office where Timothy was half asleep, then looked up, surprised to see Nurse Mannion in the doorway. It was no small effort to make sure the butterflies in his stomach created by her appearance were not evident on his face. “May I help you, Nurse?”

“On the contrary, since we’re both finishing up for the night I thought to stop by and see if I could offer help,” she said, then taking pity on his overflowing desk, “with the filing perhaps?”

“Thank you,” he smiled, “that would be most appreciated.” He wanted to say more, to prolong this encounter which was fortuitously between just the two of them, but Timothy, roused from his nap by their voices, sat up and rubbed his eyes sleepily.

“Hello, Timothy,” she whispered, “sorry to wake you.”

Normally cranky when awakened like this, his boy was surprisingly gracious in the presence of his favorite nurse, “I wasn’t really asleep,” he fibbed. Then, as if having used up his civility, turned his sleep-deprived rancor towards his dad, “now can we go home?”

“Tim,” Patrick warned, accompanied by a stern look.

“Timothy,” Shelagh spoke up, and both men turned their attention to her, “I’m sure your father would like to go home as much as you would. Now if we all help with this filing, we’ll be finished in no time at all.”

Tim acquiesced and stepped towards the desk, accepting Shelagh’s task of finding the files starting with whichever letter of the alphabet she called out. Patrick felt comfortably at ease as the three of them worked together, Shelagh keeping Tim entertained with tidbits about the upcoming fete. He assured her that the Cubs were well prepared for their help with the Pick a Lolly and was delighted to hear that Beat the Goalie had been added as one of the games.

“I can’t wait to have a go,” he piped up, “and the curate will be more of a challenge as keeper than one of our dads!”

Patrick winced; did Tim really need to draw attention to his advanced age? He consoled himself with the fact that she was polite enough not to laugh.

Instead she smoothed over Tim’s dig with her reply, “Your father has other talents; you know he’ll be indispensable if anyone needs first aid.” She ducked her head and attempted to hide a giggle, but then Timothy joined in and their laughter filled the small room.

The contentment Patrick felt from their sudden outburst was palpable as he watched the joy shared between these two special people, one who had always been so and the other just beginning in her significance to him. Adding to his pleasure was the faint idea that she just might have been teasing him, however subtly it was executed. If only the moment would last and it could always be like this. Lost in his daydream, he was unaware of how much his son was enjoying bantering with Shelagh and was therefore unprepared to recognise the direction in which Tim’s next comment was going.

“It’s too bad there isn’t a talent competition,” Timothy chortled, “Dad could sing his new favorite song! It would be awkward though because it’s about a doctor; I heard Nurse Trixie tell Nurse Jenny that Dad heard them singing it a few weeks ago!”

“Timothy!” Patrick hissed, but it was too late. He felt the heat rise in his face as he glared at the boy even though he could tell by Tim’s countenance it was an innocent mistake. Nevertheless, his foolishness was now known to her and as much as he was loathe to, he slowly shifted his glance from Timothy to her.

Whatever he had expected her response to be, he was startled by what he saw in front of him. She appeared to be frozen in place, the files in her hand halfway to their intended location. She wore an expression of shock and the already pale skin of her face was drained of all color. Abruptly, she dropped the paperwork haphazardly then darted out of his office and down the corridor.

He closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face, cursing himself for his stupidity. Whatever friendship he had managed to build with her these last few weeks as a substitute for what he could never have was certainly lost now. His mind foggy with regret, he could hear Timothy, seemingly in the distance, questioning her sudden departure. Sighing, he realised that as much as he wanted to blame Tim for this situation that would not only be misplaced but would likely do nothing to relieve his own embarrassment. Instead he leaned down to pick up the files she had dropped, but just as quickly he stood up again. Embarrassed -- that’s what he had expected her reaction to be...or possibly annoyed, at his impropriety. But she had displayed neither of those emotions; what was it her face had reflected...was it fear? Why would she be afraid? Nurse Franklin's words played back in his mind, “it was Nurse Mannion who chose that particular tune...it seems she has a soft spot for one of the doctors here.” No, he told himself, that couldn't be possible, the doctor in question was definitely not him. But if there was some small chance that by her expression she had told him he was...well then he had to find out.

“One moment, Tim,” he muttered to the already bewildered boy before hurrying to the door and looking wildly left and right. Not seeing any sign of her he moved into the corridor and towards the nurses station where Sister Evangelina was holding court. “Did Nurse Mannion pass by here?” he asked, as casually as he could. When she gestured towards the stairs, he wondered aloud, “Tearoom perhaps?”

“Not the way she was moving,” the sister asserted, “I’d say she’s halfway across London by now.”

Offering no other response than a nod, Patrick dashed back to his office where he grabbed two jackets off of the coat rack. Tossing the smaller one to Timothy, he beckoned the lad to follow him. “We’re going after her,” he announced.

“Nurse Mannion?” Tim had to jog to keep up with his father’s long strides as they moved from the Obstetrics corridor through the doorway to the stairs.

“Of course, Nurse Mannion. Now where could she be?” he mumbled the last part more to himself than Timothy, as they clattered down the multiple flights towards the first floor entrance.

“Probably by the river; she likes to sit there and think.”

Patrick paused instantly, in the middle of the reception lobby, and had to reach out to stop Tim as well. “The river? How could you possibly know she would go there?”

“We’re friends,” Tim said simply, “we talk about things.”

“Of course you do,” Patrick commended him, “now let’s get the car.”

Minutes later they were easing out of the car park. Tim expressed concern, “it’s a long river, how will be able to find her?”

“There’s a road right off of the hospital that leads directly to a nice stretch of the water; let’s hope she knows about it.” They drove off towards their destination, moving through the darkened streets while looking out for her amongst the few pedestrians along the way.

When they reached the spot Patrick had in mind, he pulled up to the kerb. They could see a lone, small figure seated on the only bench provided. A mist was beginning to come in off of the river, obscuring their view. “I think it’s her,” breathed Tim, appreciating the solemnity of the moment.

Patrick nodded, “stay in the car, Tim, and keep the doors locked.” With that he climbed out of the vehicle and tentatively approached her. She started and looked back as she heard his footsteps behind her. Then, recognising who he was, she stood and faced him as he came round to her side of the bench. She looked so small and he could see that she had been crying; sections of hair had come out of her swept back style and fell carelessly around her face. She kept her gaze toward the ground and he hesitantly reached out his hand, longing to take care of her in some small way. Encouraged that she had neither left nor told him to go, he gently tucked a few of the errant strands behind her ear. Then, being reluctant to take his hand away, he left it where it was. He watched incredibly as she visibly relaxed at his touch; he heard her sigh, then felt her shiver. “You must be freezing,” he observed as he removed his coat and placed it around her tiny frame. She slid her arms into the sleeves, her hands lost in the voluminous lengths of fabric. He moved his hands to the front of the coat, doing up two buttons near the top in an effort to further tend to her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, still looking in the direction of their shoes. After several moments, she continued, “did you really come to the club that night?”

“Yes,” he admitted softly, “you were breathtaking.”

She shook her head in denial, “I’ve had no formal training.”

“Not the singing,” he clarified, still in a hushed tone. “You.”

Finally she lifted her face to look at him and he saw everything he had hoped for in her eyes, exactly what he supposed she could see reflected in his.

“Doctor Tu--”

“Please,” he interrupted, cutting across her words, “call me Patrick.”

She made a small, surprised noise in her throat before saying it for the first time, “Patrick.” Then, seeming to have forgotten whatever she had meant to say, she just continued to look at him and he at her, enjoying this privilege which had previously been unavailable to them. Several minutes later she managed to work her hand out of his coat sleeve to brush away her rapidly drying tears. His hands still lingered inexplicably near the coat buttons he had done up for her and she now placed one small hand on top of his in a gesture that sparked a quiet joy.

“I didn’t realise,” he breathed.

“Neither did I.”

“I’m sorry.”

With an almost imperceptible shake of her head she soothed, “there’s no need for that now.”

The look in her eyes along with the small movement of her thumb over his gave him courage; he knew her given name, but had never used it. He took a deep breath to steady himself, sensing now was the proper time, “Shelagh…” he began, and his voice shook slightly. Almost immediately, a brilliant smile graced her features erasing any question he had ever had. Mirroring her expression he reached out with the hand she wasn’t holding and gently brushed her cheek with his thumb. “Shelagh,” he repeated, with a small increase of confidence, “may I kiss you?”

She took a deep breath of her own before answering, “Yes.” Beaming delightfully, she blushed a bit as her gaze dropped to his mouth before quickly returning to his eyes.

The mist was closing in, but they were too focused on each other to notice. Patrick drew away from her grasp and took her face reverently in his hands. Lowering his head he pressed his lips gently to hers, lingering for as long as he dared. Pulling back, he gazed at her intently; her eyes were still closed, her lips slightly parted and he felt the intimacy of her sigh on his face. Encouraged by her contentment, he leaned in once more, gradually increasing the intensity of his kisses. As she moved closer to him, her eager responses to his attentions thrilled him, even as he reminded himself of the need for propriety. Folding her in his arms, he contented himself with one last kiss, then held her close as the fog surrounded them.

xxxxxxxxxxx

The day of the fete arrived with the blessing of lovely weather, all the more appreciated because as autumn approached it would likely be one of the last fine days of the year. As Shelagh walked into the square, her heart was full of joy with Patrick by her side, his hand holding hers. Timothy strutted alongside them looking smart in his Cubs uniform. As excited as he appeared, he was grumbling just a bit, “I was hoping there would be Welly Wanging this year!”

“Now you know there's not enough room here in the square for that, Tim,” his father chided, shaking his head at Tim's exaggerated sigh.

“Patrick,” Shelagh implored, “can we take him to a proper village fete sometime, out in the countryside?”

“Absolutely, my love, I'll do whatever it takes to ensure the happiness of the future Mrs Turner,” he smiled broadly and raised her hand to his lips. Shelagh giggled and glanced down at her left hand, enjoying how her engagement ring sparkled in the sunshine.

The night he had found her by the river they had stood in each other’s arms, unaware of the cold or damp, until an insistent honking alerted them to Timothy’s presence in the car. Laughing together, they had returned to an inquisitive Tim. Patrick had patiently answered all of his questions while at the same time being sensitive to any topic that might make her uncomfortable. She had made both of them smile ridiculously when she told him she needed no such protection. Their combined certainty was affirmed two days later when he asked her to marry him and she happily accepted.

Standing now in the midst of the fete, Shelagh felt a sense of belonging she had never known. Looking around her, she saw so many familiar faces united in support of the hospital. The ladies from her church staffed the potted plant stand and the used book stall. Closer to the fountain, Sisters Julienne and Evangelina were using their respective administrative and forthright skills to judge the fruit and veg competition. The nurses were doing their part as previously promised and of course Timothy’s Cub pack was assisting in their own small way.

As a newcomer six months ago, the church and the hospital were the two things that grounded her here and gave her a sense of purpose. To see them working together in this way was gratifying. But of course Shelagh knew it was more than that. The connection she finally felt here was because of the people, people she had tried to keep at a distance. How that had become a habit for her she didn't fully understand, and how many others she may have missed getting to know was not what mattered now. All that she had been through before was to prepare her for what she now was able to receive. Once she took that first step toward connecting, her world had gradually unfolded before her and she grew in confidence to the point where she was able to love and be loved. She would not focus on regrets but instead hold fast to the blessings that surrounded her today: her church, her vocation, her newfound friends, the little family she already held dear, and Patrick. He was more than she had ever dared to hope for -- kind, compassionate, a brilliant doctor... and he really did make her eyes go ooh!

the end

#turnadette #a night out #my fanfiction #ctm fanfic #Call The Midwife

[zukadiary]

Arch of Triumph / Gato Bonito!! ~ Snow Troupe 2018

I feel a bit weird writing this up after only day 2 of the run, because I’m sure the troupe is still very much warming up... but this is when I happened to be here. Yukigumi fan life has not been ideal for me since Chigi’s retirement and this was BALM FOR THE WOUNDS in unexpected ways. Beware of spoilers.

Arch of Triumph

I happen to really like the original version of this show (from back when Tom was Yukigumi’s actual top star), but despite that the primary emotion I felt re: this show choice, as a Daimon fan who has to travel 7000 miles to see her, was saltiness at the stolen lead. I anticipated suffering through this and prayed that Fujii-sensei would carry the experience for me entirely, so I was truly taken aback by how much I loved Gaisenmon. 

There is a pretty long summary on the Takawiki page, and the original is also available from TIP with subtitles.

Just objectively as a show, it’s so beautiful, and it’s beautiful in ways that I didn’t know about at all because you can’t see them on the recording. It’s a dark story and the set is kept fairly dark as well, so all the meticulously colored lights and gobos and gorgeous rain effects dissolve into unintelligible black fuzz on an 18-year-old Sky Stage video. From the second floor you can also appreciate the incredible fluidity of the set rotations and scene changes along with the amazing choreography, of which there is A LOT. It’s a really impressive feat of direction; I am (despite my Takarazuka-related fervor) not a well-versed technical theater person at all and the artistry of it still struck me as something really special. The music is also gorgeous; it’s a very moving show, but I don’t like the main characters as people enough to cry from the culmination of the story... however, the reprise of main song, delivered in beautiful powerful troupe harmony as the curtain fell, murdered me, and I burst into tears on shonichi.

My main worry, especially considering that we have a guest lead and I adore Yukigumi as a whole with all my heart, was that it’s a very top-heavy show. Yesterday I was SO pleasantly surprised at how well-balanced it felt compared to my expectations; today, unfortunately, I felt the same from my vantage point but also realized it will probably feel just as top-heavy as the original on DVD. A sizable portion of the other main players’ stage time comes from beautiful but wordless dance scenes. But despite the light usage of most of the troupe I actually felt better than I did watching Robespierre. Everyone may be on stage less, but I felt like their characters were more lovingly crafted and very distinct from each other even with the simplest backstories. 

My two biggest gripes about Tom swooping in are 1) they often like to pretend she is still 25 which she is distinctly not and 2) in what I’ve seen recently I felt like she and the troupe she’s borrowed were acting separately from each other. I think a big reason why Gaisenmon worked for me is neither of those things applied. While there were a few insertions to balance the stage time a little better, the show is largely the same as the original, yet there is nothing in it that suggests Ravic—a surgeon who escaped Germany as the Nazis came into power—is any specific age, and he works at any age... specifically, even a large age difference between Ravic and Joan is totally reasonable and believable. Against the chaotic backdrop of refugee-laden pre-war Paris, an older doctor and a younger aspiring actress could absolutely meet and fall in love. Tom also meshed with the troupe a lot better than I expected. There’s no way to sugarcoat how shot her singing voice is, but damn the woman can act, and her otokoyaku mannerisms (stage kisses in particular) definitely show her long years of practice. 

Kiichan slayed, I thought she was even better than Tsukikage Hitomi. Joan is a REALLY HARD role; she’s practical out of necessity but a bit frivolous at heart, and she’s in love but also struggles to differentiate between actual love and the fear of being alone in an increasingly dangerous world. It doesn’t sound like it in writing but in execution it’s really easy for her to come off as weak, clingy, and annoying, when she’s actually a very nuanced character. Kiichan hit all the right notes, she didn’t appear intimidated at all by Tom, and even their romance seemed totally natural for the aforementioned reasons. Her sudden lovesickness could have been so one-note but I felt the tinge of anxiety behind it throughout the whole show, and I was so impressed by that. There is a scene of misunderstanding between Joan and Ravic at a cafe that in a way triggers the unfortunate events that occur thereafter, and it’s gut-wrenching, especially on a second viewing when you can watch it unfold with the knowledge of what’s coming. Her death scene is also extremely intense.

Salty as I am, I LOVE the role of Boris for Daimon. I’ve been feeling like I’ll explode if I have to see her do another sad French play, but after watching this somehow it wound up exempt. The story is heavy and all of the characters are struggling, but amidst the turmoil Boris is a calming presence, refreshingly level-headed and quite positive in a lot of ways (EDIT: in chatting in the comments the words I wanted but couldn’t find at 3am came out: he’s definitely got a cynical edge to him as well, but it was kind of like his cynical view of the world freed him up emotionally to be quietly supportive of the other characters’ problems... I think that’s what I mean by positive). And I can’t even express HOW LOVELY it was to see Daimon play THAT CHARACTER for a change, how fulfilling not to just watch her suffer for an hour and a half. Boris is in the story himself but also the narrator. In the story bits, he’s cool and reliable and there’s a really heartwarming sense of purity in the way he freely shows his emotions. Daimon seems to enjoy over the top acting just fine, but it’s her roles that rely on subtle facial expressions and body language that absolutely kill me—this was the latter. In the narration bits, she weaves an intricate tapestry with her voice. As I said every detail of the direction is intentional and beautiful, but so much of the mood also comes from the emotion in Daimon’s singing, not only in the actual songs (one of which she sang in probably incorrectly but nonetheless tantalizingly pronounced French, ugh ♥), but also particularly when she hums background tunes as other bits of action are taking place. She barely moves and her voice is so soft and yet STILL it reverberates throughout the entire theater somehow, like it flutters into every corner. And she was so beautiful, she worked the hell out of some costumes that definitely wouldn’t be flattering on everyone. I’m TEARING UP right now, my heart is so full. 

Here’s where things get bit eh for some people and downright unfortunate for others. Saki and Shou barely had anything to do, although I understand why they were relegated to those roles versus the Aasa, Hitoko, Kari group which although comprised of very distinct characters still felt like a single unit in a way. After a bit of prologue choreography Saki doesn’t show up until past the halfway point. She’s Henri, the handsome but creepy and possessive movie producer who lands Joan some acting jobs and then also shoots her in a fit of jealousy. She really only has two notable short scenes toward the end, when Henri first tries to coerce Joan into staying with him and then comes to Ravic pleading for her life after shooting her. Shou is a sexy doctor who talks on the phone sometimes. 

The Aasa/Hitoko/Kari group, however—and, tangentially, Asu, Manaharu, Michiru, Kiwa, and Agata Sen—shone more than I expected remembering the original group (our legendary Yukigumi 3兄弟 Touko/Komu/Naruse Kouki). While they also only had a few scenes to themselves, those scenes were some of my favorites, and they’re the ones who got to decorate the outskirts of the other scenes’ action with beautiful dancing. Aasa is the only one whose role I’d call a step back from Robespierre, but only because she was my Robespierre MVP, and she was still wonderful as the more subdued Jaime. I felt distinct forward momentum from everyone else. Hitoko was absolutely adorable and injected way more into Rosenfeld than Komu did (which I can say even with the ultimate bias on my side), and Kari was truly outstanding, I could melt just looking at her and I’m so glad she landed a role with that kind of prominence. The whole Hotel International group just had so much humanity. 

Final shout outs go to Niwa who I love unconditionally in every role she plays but particularly here for a) A+ slimy awful Gestapo officer and b) the novelty of Kouju Tatsuki squeeing OMG YOU WERE KEN-2 IN THE ORIGINAL AND NOW YOU’RE SCHNEIDER?! in the talk show; and Miho Keiko who I was SURE they stuffed into Gaisenmon because Fujii-sensei demanded her presence in his show as usual, leaving me quite dumbfounded when she wasn’t in Gato Bonito at all. It wasn’t a role that one of our many boss beautiful perfect upperclassmen musumeyaku couldn’t have done, but nonetheless her presence leant some more gravitas to the show in addition to balancing out Tom a bit.

Gato Bonito!! had the opposite effect on me initially. I expected to dislike Gaisenmon and it wowed me, and then it wowed me twice over because that feeling of your expectations being so far exceeded is wonderful. Meanwhile I’ve been laying in bed at night screaming DAISUKEEEEEEEE into the darkness for months, praying he’d deliver me a perfect trilogy of HOT EYES!!, Santé!!, and now THIS!! (boy he loves double exclamation points doesn’t he). 

Well, it sure wasn’t HOT EYES. But in retrospect, that’s a damn high bar. After watching Gato Bonito today with my expectations in a reasonable place, I liked it more... especially when I think about how SUPER VOYAGER was everything I never want to see in a revue ever again tied up in one neat package, and this, in contrast, was a lot of things I want to see very much.

From the start I liked or loved all of the scenes individually, but something about the show as a whole didn’t come together for me, and after two viewings I think I have some idea of why. The sets and backdrops were off for me, in a way that I did not think could have such a large effect on the show’s overall vibe. Most revues will have a big eye-popping scene, then they’ll close the curtain and have people dance in front of it for a short transition, then open it again to another eye-popping scene. There’s a nice rise-climax-break-repeat flow. But there were so many scenes in Gato Bonito where they’d drop a curtain down, have a dance in front of it, then drop A DIFFERENT THING down and have a dance in front of that, and I just felt like I was being constantly led toward a climax that never came. When they did open up the whole stage I found the sets really spread out and airy, such that it felt as if no matter how hard they tried they couldn’t fill the stage with enough people. They were also FLAT, like literally flat on the floor, not enough gradated pieces with people standing atop them to fill the back as well as the ground. I might feel differently when I watch it from the first floor, but for now I think some pretty small adjustments could have given it overall more impact.

Also, WAAAAAYYYY too many LITERAL CATS for my taste.

THAT SAID, boy this was SO MUCH of what I love to see out of Daimon. It was hot and extra and the music was amazing and she got to stand there making these burning faces and do TRULY UNFATHOMABLY STUPID THINGS WITH HER VOICE and flamenco and tango and all that jazz. Everyone was melting pile of orange goo no thanks to the weather and the insufficient air conditioning, but other than that there were even enough good costumes to balance out those ruffle abominations (you know the ones) that of course showed up a bit. Saki was ON FIRE, I know I said I was tired of riding the Saki coaster but oops here we go up another hill. They made up for shafting her in Gaisenmon with a loooooot of juicy revue time. She’s gotten so good at emoting through her dance, she was just dynamic and sexy and 150% energy from start to finish. Kiichan has a little ways to go to catch up with everyone in her Latin dancing but there was already a really noticeable improvement between shonichi and today. 

Highlights:

Argentine tango to Yo Soy Maria ft. Daimon singing in Spanish, guessing by the lack of bedazzling on the suits that that was the ANJU-sensei scene. When the curtain opened on all the otokoyaku just mingling in the dark smoky background it PHYSICALLY HURT (it also began with all our boss beautiful perfect upperclassmen musumeyaku in slinky dresses)

There’s a scene with Saki, Shou, Aasa, and Hitoko taking turns grinding on Daimon in the world’s tackiest bodysuits, but there was something so inexplicably hot about the drag + otokoyaku hair despite the melting orange goo and poor Saki and Aasa absolutely drowning in their own sweat

The chuuzume starts with a conga line across the ginkyou, and EVERY PERSON IN THE TROUPE comes out in single file in rank order, it was A LOT for my Yukigumi-loving heart

Kiichan gets to do stuff, Daisuke is aware we have a top musumeyaku which is apparently a challenge for some people

Daimon enters from the back of the first floor singing Kuroneko no Tango at one point and when she reaches the stage there’s a daily “ad lib” (in quotes because I’m sure she’s already written them all down and rehearsed them ad nauseam), but her ad libs are so dumb I love her

ASU GOT A WHOLE SONG

I forgot to pay close enough attention through the applause today to grab the exact words, but I’m like 90% sure the final lyrics as Daimon is descending the stairs in the parade are something she also referenced in her +act interview right when she became top (I don’t have the magazine on me but I translated it as “we can live through today for the sake of tomorrow and for the sake of living tomorrow we can stand firmly right here today”). She was talking about the “soul of flamenco” and that being something that turned her whole outlook around during Don Juan, so I thought it was REALLY SWEET they threw that in as a nod to her continuing to grow. Haha nope, after 4 viewings I'm sure I was wrong, but I like my idea better Hankyu pls hire me

Did I mention her dumb stupid voice? I know Robespierre was literally written for her by a Broadway composer but for me there was no comparison; in both acts it danced and changed and filled the theater in ways that don’t seem like they should be physically possible. Like this is the ????th time I’ve seen Daimon live and I was still just absolutely slain by all the heretofore unheard things her voice can apparently do. 

I’m whole and healed and so surprised and delighted I didn’t have to wait till 2019 for that to happen. 

#takarazuka #reviews #arch of triumph #might as well just tell people I live here

[alexskylar]

Elise’s Friends with Benefits

A cuckold story by Alex Skylar

It had only been four hours since I had dropped Elise off at the airport, and I was already missing her.

I had met my girlfriend a little over two years ago. I’m a doctor, and Elise was brought in by a management company that was taking over the operations of our office. I was immediately drawn to her bubbly personality and beautiful smile, but she was also physically perfect. Her mother was Korean, which gave her distinctly Asian features, while her father had a German background, which is where they got her name. She was slim and toned naturally, but she had gotten implants a few years before I met her, and that gave her body some curve in just the right spot.

For the first few months after we met, she seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time in our office. The more time I spent around her, the more I found myself looking forward to her visits. I wanted to ask her out, but I knew that would never be allowed as long as we worked together. When she was reassigned to a different set of offices, I saw my opportunity and asked her on a date. From there, our relationship blossomed.

Elise had worked for the same management company as a regional manager for almost ten years. Her region included San Diego, where we both lived, and a few offices in Phoenix. Every few months, she would have to fly out to Arizona for the weekend to check up on those ones. We both hated being away from each other, but it was a little easier for her to handle. The company always put her up in luxurious resorts and paid all of her expenses. It was like a mini vacation for her.

Today was Friday, and she would be gone until Monday. I wasn’t looking forward to a long weekend alone, but we always stayed in touch over text while she was away. After finishing up a few things at work, I pulled out my phone to see how she was doing.

“Hey, baby!” I said. “Did you make it in okay?”

“Hi, honey!” she replied almost immediately. “I’m just getting settled into my room. It’s so beautiful here! I think this is the nicest place they’ve ever put me in. There’s even a hot tub in my room! The only thing that’s missing is you!”

“Awe, I miss you too!” I replied with a smile. “I can’t wait to see you on Monday.”

“Well, I won’t make you wait that long. I brought some of your favorite lingerie with me. I’m going to put some on tonight, have a bottle of wine, and maybe do a sexy photoshoot for you. I hope you aren’t planning on bringing over another girl, because I want you to be drooling over these!”

Elise loved to tease me, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it, too. She was incredibly photogenic, and she knew how to take the sexiest pictures when she was all by herself.

“I can’t wait,” I answered. “I don’t need another woman as long as I have you!”

“Good! I’m going to go get some dinner and pick up that wine, but I’ll call you later with a few surprises. Stay tuned!”

She added a winking emoji, and I knew I was in for some great pictures later. I tucked my phone away and went off in search of my own dinner for the evening.

It was almost eight o’clock when my phone rang with a call from Elise. I had started to get a bit antsy waiting for her, but I knew she would send me something good when she was ready, so I waited patiently until I finally heard the ring of my phone.

“Hey, sweetie!” she chirped excitedly when I answered the phone. “How are you?”

I could hear a noticeable slur in her voice that confirmed her intoxicated state, and I giggled a little. She was even more naughty when she drunk, so I wasn’t going to complain.

“I’m alright, but I really miss you,” I said. “What have you been up to?”

“Well, I’ve almost finished a whole bottle of wine, and I’ve been taking a few pictures for you, so now I’m really horny, too. Want to see the pictures?”

“Absolutely!” I said excitedly.

One of the things I loved about Elise was that she seemed very friendly, but she always kept it clean when she was around others. When it was just the two of us, though, she was always very sexual. She was incredible in bed, more so than anyone I had been with before. I had initially assumed she would be a little vanilla, but I was pleasantly surprised to discover she was very open minded and sexually driven.

“Hold on a second while I send them,” she said, then disappeared for a moment.

My phone dinged in my hand and I pulled it away to find a dozen pictures from her waiting in my messages. She had brought my favorite lingerie with her, a red and black bra and panty set paired with a garter belt and some black fishnet stockings. There were a few images of her splayed out on the bed, and a few of her standing in front of a full length body mirror that was positioned on one of the walls in the room. The rest of the pictures showed her in various states of undress, often posed to show off her cleanly shaven pussy and her voluptuous breasts.

“Damn, you are amazing,” I said after carefully making my way through the pictures. My cock was already hard and aching, so I began rubbing myself to relieve the sexual tension. “What are you doing now?”

“Mmm, I’m snuggled in the hot tub and playing with myself. Want to see?”

“Of course,” I said.

There was a few seconds of silence, followed by another picture. This time she was reclined in the tub with her long black hair pulled up into a ponytail. The water swirled around her breasts, her nipples hidden just below the surface of the water.

“Damn, you are incredible,” I said when I had finished enjoying the picture. “I wish I could be there in that tub with you, touching that beautiful body, slipping my hand down between your legs to feel you.”

“Mmm, don’t tease me like that!” she cooed. “You know how wet I get thinking about you.”

“I know, and I love it!”

There was a lull in the conversation for a second. I could hear a hint of hesitation from Elise, but before I could ask her about it, her liquid courage took over.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” she said meekly.

I was curious where her mind was going, so I mumbled in assent and waited for her to continue.

“Can you tell me about that thing you used to do with your exes? What was it called again?”

“You mean the cuckold thing?” I asked.

“Yeah, that,” she said, then giggled nervously. “I know you mentioned it once before, but we’ve never really talked a lot about it. How did it work? What did you guys do?”

Before I had met Elise, I had a distinct fetish for the idea of being cuckolded by a beautiful woman. I had dated maybe a dozen women before I met her, and had actually fulfilled the fantasy with three of them.

“I mean, there wasn’t much to it. We would go online and find a guy she liked, and then message him to see if we got a good vibe. If everything seemed good, we would meet up with him for drinks first. Sometimes we would make a second date, but usually we would just end up bringing the guy home and she would sleep with him while I watched.”

“Did you join in, or just sit there and play with yourself?” she asked, still a little hesitant.

“I would just watch and play with myself. I would always get my turn after the guy left, and that was even better than joining. The pleasure of reclaiming your significant other after she’s been with another man can be pretty intense, but the wait when you are being denied pleasure makes it that much better.”

“So why have you always said you wouldn’t want to do it with me?”

It was a very honest and pointed question, and my stomach tightened in response. The truth was that I had never had strong feelings for the women who had helped me fulfill my fantasy. There was an element of vulnerability to cuckolding. When you tell your girlfriend that you want her to sleep with another man, a physically superior man, you take the chance that she’s going to catch feelings for the new guy. In a strong relationship like the one I shared with Elise, the chances were low, but it was still a possibility.

I had always considered myself a very average guy in terms of my appearance. I’m not a model by any stretch of the word, and Elise had always made me felt like that didn’t matter. But there were plenty of guys who would openly flirt with her, even in my presence, and that always made me nervous about suggesting that she sleep with someone other than me.

“Because I love you,” I said briefly, despite my inner machinations. “The last thing I want to do is take the chance of losing you to someone else.”

“You are the sweetest, most amazing man ever, and nobody would ever take you away from me. You know that, right?”

I smiled warmly, feeling the love in her voice.

“I know,” I said. “Why are you asking, anyway?”

Once again, there was a palpable hesitation in her answer. I felt a nervous flutter, but her answer quickly quelled my fears.

“On my first trip to Arizona ten years ago, I met this guy named Chris. We met at the bar in the hotel where I was staying, and we hit it off pretty well. He became like a friend with benefits that I would only see whenever I came out here. I stopped talking to him after a while, long before I met you, and I haven’t heard from him since then. I posted something about coming to Phoenix and he sent me a text saying hello and asking how I was doing. I haven’t sent anything back, though. I guess the wine has me feeling extra naughty tonight and I was thinking about writing back to him, but I won’t if you feel that strongly about it. We haven’t talked in years, so I doubt he’ll be upset if I ignore him.”

I had always told Elise that I didn’t want to watch her with another man, but that didn’t mean that I had never fantasized about other men fucking her. She seemed to be suggesting that she wanted to try it, but I wasn’t sure if perhaps I was just reading her intentions wrong.

“You wouldn’t want to just meet up with him to catch up, without sleeping with him?” I asked, feeling her out on this new friend.

“Well, we never really had that kind of relationship. I guess we were more like fuckbuddies than actual friends. We’d meet up for a drink to loosen things up, then go somewhere and fuck like bunnies for a few hours. After that, I would go home and not hear from him until the next time I was planning a trip. Honestly, if he hadn’t been good in bed, I probably would have stopped seeing him after my first trip.”

My mind swirled with a crazy mixture of emotions. This guy sounded like the perfect bull: skilled in bed with zero emotional connection for her. She could fuck his brains out and she would still come back to me without a second thought.

My cuckolding instincts kicked in and I began picturing Elise with a faceless man. My cock throbbed and I rubbed it harder, but I tried to keep my pace under control so that Elise wouldn’t hear me. I felt the familiar twinge of jealousy that came from my significant other lusting after another man, but just as it had every time before, the emotion turned me on even more.

“How big is he? Down there, I mean,” I asked.

The size of my manhood was another area where I felt very average. When I had chosen men for my previous girlfriends, I had always sought out well-hung guys to maximize their pleasure. If this guy was significantly bigger, it would fuel my insecurity in a very negative way while feeding my fantasy.

“I don’t really remember,” she said honestly. “I think he was about the same size as you, but I could be wrong. Why? Are you actually thinking you might want me to see him? Wait, are you touching yourself and thinking about it right now?”

That was when I realized that I had sunk myself so far into the fantasy, I was breathing deeply. She had caught me fantasizing about it, and it would be obvious if I lied to her, so I decided the truth was the best course.

“Yeah, I am,” I said hoarsely, letting the pleasure sink in. “As much as I say I don’t want you to fuck another guy, the idea is incredibly hot. Are you thinking about it, too? While you’re touching yourself?”

Elise giggled softly on the other end of the line, then let out a slow, heavy sigh.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m thinking about Chris. I’m thinking about how he used to fuck me, and it’s getting me so wet. Does it turn you on that your girlfriend is touching herself while she thinks about another man?”

“Yes,” I struggled to say. “I’m thinking about him kissing you. Touching you. I’m thinking about his cock slipping into that tight little pussy while I’m hundreds of miles away, jerking off all alone.”

“Don’t stop,” Elise begged, her breathing heavy and ragged. “Tell me more.”

“I’m imagining you riding his cock, your tits bouncing up and down every time you slide down onto him. Does that turn you on, baby?”

“Oh my god, yes,” she cried out, moaning deeply. “I want him to take a picture of his cock sliding into my pussy so i can send it to you afterward. I want to see how hard you get when I tell you how hard he fucked me, and how good it felt.”

Elise cried out loudly. I could hear her body erupt in orgasm at the idea of teasing me with another man, and my cock exploded in my hand, sending warm cum all over my lap.

I grabbed a towel and wiped my hand off, but both of us were silent for a minute.

“Is it always that intense?” she asked quietly.

“That’s nothing compared to how intense it can get when you really do it,” I said, knowing that I was leading myself down the path back to my old ways. “Were you just fantasizing, or were you serious about wanting to see him?”

“I… I don’t know,” she said finally. “If I’m being honest, I love the idea. I don’t want to upset you, though, and if you don’t want to try it, I understand. I just know that Chris is really great in bed, and I know that I love you and would never leave you for anyone else. If you think you would enjoy it, then I’m down to try it.”

“I’ve never done it without actually being there,” I said, pondering aloud. “I don’t know how that would work, and I wouldn’t be able to reclaim you afterward.”

“I could tell you all the details, and maybe try to get some pictures or a video. And I think making you wait until I got home would make it even more intense, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” I said, still hesitant.

“Do you want me to text him back?” she asked. “I don’t even know if he wants to see me. He might have a girlfriend or be married for all I know.”

“What if he is, but he still wants to fuck you?” I chuckled, knowing that Elise could convince any guy to fuck her, married or not. “Would you do it?”

“I wouldn’t care,” she said nonchalantly. “That might even make it hotter for me to know he was cheating for me. Maybe I should tell him I have a boyfriend, but not tell him that you know. He would probably love it if he thought I was cheating on you.”

“I like that idea, but it might make it hard to get pictures or a video if he thinks that,” I said. “Play it by ear though and see what feels comfortable.”

“So is that a yes?” she said, struggling to hold herself back.

“Yes, you can see him.”

“Oh my god, thank you, baby!” she squealed. “You are the most amazing man ever! Let me get off the phone then so I can text him. I’ll let you know what he says. Oh, and if you change your mind before tomorrow, I won’t be upset. Just let me know before I go out so I can let him know I’m canceling.”

I felt the familiar thrill of knowing something very kinky was going to happen this weekend. I couldn’t wait to see how Elise handled it while keeping me involved, and how far she would take it with him. I didn’t want to get my hopes up too much, because she might still lose her bravery when it came down to the moment of action.

“That’s okay, I doubt I will back out, but thank you for saying that.”

“You know, if he says yes, I may have to go out and buy a dress at lunch tomorrow. I didn’t bring anything sexy to wear on a date like this.”

“I’m sure you can find something good for him,” I said with a beaming grin. “Go talk to him first and let me know, though. I love you, baby. I hope you know that.”

“I do, baby, and I love you, too. I’ll text you soon.”

And just like that, she was gone. My stomach churned nervously as I struggled to keep my thoughts away from the wicked plan that was going down at that very moment. I pictured her in the tub, naked, and an idea occurred to me. I grabbed my phone and typed a quick text.

“Send him that pic of you in the tub. That will get his attention!”

There was no answer for almost twenty minutes, then finally my phone beeped.

“I have a date with him tomorrow night,” she said. “Oh, and he loved that picture of me! Night, baby!”

The first step had happened. My beautiful girlfriend had just shown herself off to another man in a teasing fashion. My cock was already hard, but I decided to hold off and save my excitement for tomorrow. I tucked my phone away and did my best to drift off to sleep.

  I had Saturday and Sunday off, so I knew I was going to spend most of it in bed helplessly contemplating the night ahead. I could still say no, but somewhere deep inside, I knew I wanted this to happen.

Elise had a busy day, checking on three different offices before noon. She took a quick break and let me know that she had stopped at a mall, but I would have to wait until later that night to see what she had picked out. Her afternoon had three more stops, after which she would be returning to her hotel to get ready for the night.

The truth of what was about to happen finally sunk in around six that evening. I received an excited text from her.

“Oh god, baby, I have to show you what I’m wearing so you really know what you are getting yourself into!”

At first, I didn’t understand what she meant. Then the picture came through seconds later and my jaw dropped.

Elise was wearing a sexy little dress. It was snug, but not too tight, just enough to show her fit little body. There were two straps that came down into triangular cups over her breasts, with a plunging neckline between them that showed an obscene amount of cleavage. She looked like pure sex, and there was no way she was wearing that out and not getting fucked tonight.

“Holy shit, you look amazing!” I replied.

“You’re sure you’re okay with me going through with this? He’s going to be here in thirty minutes. I could still cancel now if you want, but once he’s here, it will be too late to stop me.”

“I know, baby,” I answered. “Don’t stop yourself. Do whatever your body craves.  All I ask is that you make him wear a condom, okay?”

“I will, I promise! Have a good night, and I'll try to update you as much as I can. Talk to you later!”

Once again, she went silent.

  Over the next two hours, I struggled with the familiar discomfort of cuckold angst. It was like an itch at the back of my mind that I just couldn’t reach. I had felt it before, but that was typically in the buildup leading up to a big date.

This was different. My girlfriend was out with another man at that exact moment, and I had no idea what they were doing. Were they already going at it, or were they still flirting at the bar? I didn’t know when I would hear from her, or if I would even hear from her at all that night. If their date ended up lasting into the morning hours, I might not get any information until the following morning.

Two hours had passed when my phone beeped. I looked at the screen and my heart jumped when I saw a message from Elise.

“Hey, baby! Are you there?”

“Yes!” I replied quickly. “How is it going?”

“It’s good,” she said. “Chris ran to the store, so I have about fifteen minutes. Do you want to hear about my night so far?”

“Yes, please!” I pleaded. “I’m dying here. Tell me what’s happened!”

“Well, we haven’t had sex yet, but we’ve been flirting and there was something… Wait, I’ll start at the beginning.

“So Chris and I have had a running joke going all the way back to when we first met ten years ago. I met him online and we were planning to go out for a drink. He asked me if I wanted to meet him at the bar or if he should pick me up. I told him I really hate driving, and as an example, I said I would rather give a guy roadhead and let him drive. He of course immediately offered to drive every time I came into town, and I would always end up going down on him at some point, usually after I had a few drinks in me. Last night while I was texting him, he asked if he should pick me up, and I said yes with a knowing wink, so he already knew I was down for some fun.

“He picked me up and his jaw dropped when he saw the dress. He gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek, and then took me across town for a drink. I think he intentionally picked something far away, but nothing happened on the ride there. We just chatted innocently.

“We got to the bar and started drinking, and by the time we were buzzed, we were already flirting pretty openly. He would put his hand on my knee and stroke the inside of my thigh just below the hem of my skirt. He was teasing me so bad, and I loved it. I told him about you, and he asked if you knew we were out together. I just told him that it was something you didn’t need to know, then gave him a wink. He seemed to be happy with that answer, and the fact that I would cheat on you with him made him even more bold. He began nuzzling my neck right there in the bar, and we ended up kissing a few times.

“By the time we left, I was so horny. I was dripping wet and so ready to fuck him. We got in his car and I leaned over and started stroking his cock through his pants. He got hard right away, so I knew it was time to give him what we wanted. He pulled up to a red light and I told him to pull it out. He undid his belt and zipper, then pushed his jeans down off of his hips until his cock popped free. Then it was my turn to drop my jaw.

“I must have been thinking of someone else when I said he was about the same size as you, because he’s at least a few inches longer than you, and a lot thicker. My mouth started to water as soon as I saw it, and I immediately dropped my head into his lap and started sucking him off.”

My cock ached as she detailed her story, but it was that moment that really drove it home. My girlfriend had done it. She had sucked another man’s cock, pleasing him with her oral skills. It wasn’t just any man, either. He was bigger and better than me, and she loved his cock.

Elise seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“I felt so naughty. I felt so dirty. I was sucking my old fuck buddy’s dick, and all I could think about was you at home touching yourself, wondering if it had happened. That drove me even crazier, and I gave him one of the most enthusiastic blowjobs I’ve ever given.

“Chris usually has pretty good control, but I must have surprised him, because he only lasted maybe five minutes before I felt him getting ready to cum. I didn’t want to make a mess, and I had no other choice, so I kept my mouth on him as his cock erupted in my mouth, swallowing every drop as quickly as I could!”

“Oh my god, babe!” I replied for the first time since she had started her story. “You swallowed his cum? You never do that with me!”

“I know, baby, but I was just lost in the moment and didn’t want to stop. It even tasted kind of good! I hope you’re not mad…”

“Not at all,” I said. “I’m so hard thinking about it.”

“Show me,” she said.

I snapped a quick picture of my dick and sent it to her, then waited patiently for a response.

“Wow, he really is a lot bigger than you,” she said.

My stomach churned, but I loved how much this was turning her on. I loved that he had a cock that would satisfy her in ways that I couldn’t, and she wasn’t holding back in telling me that.

“I’m glad you like his cock. So what happened after that? Where is he?”

“Well,” she continued, “we got to the hotel and started making out in the car. I asked him if he had any condoms, but he hadn’t brought any. We usually don’t use them, so he was expecting to need one, but I came up with some excuse about not wanting to get pregnant. I told him to go to the store and gave him my room number, then jumped out and came up to my room to text you. He should be back any minute now, and I think your fantasy is going to happen when he gets here. Just think, in a half hour, I’ll be riding another man’s cock while you jerk off again. I never thought that idea would turn me on so much, but it does!”

“I love it!” I answered. “I hope you have fun, and text me when you can.”

“I will, but don’t get mad if you don’t hear from me until tomorrow morning. I might be a little busy all night! Oh, and when I got back to my room, I changed out of my dress and into some lingerie. I’m going to leave the door open a crack so when he walks in, he finds me waiting on the bed. Do you want an idea of what he’s going to see?”

“Yes!”

A picture popped up and my stomach grew even tighter. Elise had aimed the camera at the full-length mirror, so I got a view of the entire room. She was lying on the bed with her phone in her hand, dressed in my favorite lingerie. She had brought it along to do a photo shoot for me, and now she was wearing it for her first bull. I was both jealous and aroused.

“Wow, such a bad girl!” I said. “But you look amazing! Enjoy your moment, baby. I love you!”

“I love you, too! Thank you for letting me do this! He just texted that he’s on his way up, so I have to go. Talk to you soon!”

I sat there and rubbed myself. Five minutes passed, and I knew in that moment that Elise was making out with her old fuck buddy, dressed in her sexiest lingerie. That was all it took to send me over the edge.

I didn’t hear anything else all night, but I did end up playing with myself a few more times thinking about what they might be doing. Eventually I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of my amazing girlfriend.

  The next morning, I woke up and checked my phone immediately, but there were no messages. I got up and showered, then made some breakfast. I was just finishing up when I finally heard from Elise.

“Hey, baby, sorry I took so long to respond. I have so much to tell you! How did you sleep?”

“Pretty good,” I said. “It was hard to get to sleep wondering what was happening, but I drifted off eventually. Are you still with him?”

“No, he left a little while ago. I came down to the pool to tan for a bit.”

She sent me a picture of her legs, stretched out on a lounge chair next to a big pool filled with clear blue water. I couldn’t help thinking about those legs wrapped around another man, and that brought me back to her story.

“Don’t torture me any longer,” I said. “What happened?”

“I thought you might be eager to know. I’ll start from when he walked in and found me on the bed. He paused for a second to admire me, and the way he looked at me made me feel so beautiful and sexy. He crawled onto the bed toward me and we started making out as I undressed him. I pulled all his clothes off until he was just in his boxers, and then I pulled those off, too. Once again I was staring at that beautiful cock, just as hard as he had been when I first went down on him in the car. He gets so hard for me, and he never has a problem going multiple times. I sucked him for a little, but he wasn’t satisfied with that. I don’t know if I told you this, but Chris loves to eat me out. He pushed me back on the bed and pulled my panties off, then just started teasing me with his tongue, making slow circles around my clitoris. You can’t even imagine how wet I was right then. It felt so good, and I was thinking about you while he did it. I started cumming within a few minutes and couldn’t stop. He kept going, licking and sucking my lips down there, flicking his tongue inside me every now and then until I was begging him to fuck me.

“He stopped and crawled over me, and started kissing me as his cock brushed across my pussy lips. I knew it was going to happen right then. I was going to cheat on you, and I think even if you had been right there and told me not to, I still would have let him take me. I just needed him so badly, I couldn’t say no.

“I remembered the condom just in time, and I made him grab the bag he had brought. He slipped a rubber on and moved back between my legs. He teased me a little more, and eventually I just said, ‘please.’ That was all it took.

“He pressed the tip against my pussy and it just slid right in. God, he felt so big inside me. I love that full feeling. I mean, your cock feels good in me, but a bigger cock is just different.”

“Better?”

“Yeah, a little. I would never cheat on you just for that, but it really does feel so good. He pumped me slowly at first, just feeling how tight I was. The longer he went, the more passionate and forceful he became. He pulled out and rolled me onto my belly, then climbed on me and buried his length inside me again. From behind, he was even more forceful.

“I started cumming every few minutes. I have no idea how many times he made me climax, but it seemed like dozens of times. I even squirted a few times, and I know how much you love making me do that.

“I think we fucked for like two hours that first time. Sometimes he would stop and I would suck his cock or he would go down on me, but it was non-stop. I started thinking he would never cum, and then he just stopped and grunted as he came into the condom. The sex had been so great, that it was kind of anticlimactic. I found myself wishing he had pulled out and came on me, because I wanted to feel it on my body if I couldn’t have it inside me.”

My stomach fluttered as I stroked myself. I found myself wishing I hadn’t told her to use a condom, but it was too late now.

“You said you went for two hours the first time,” I replied when she seemed to pause. “Did you fuck again after that?”

“Patience, my cuckold, I’ll get there!” she snipped back.

“After he finished, he went to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. I slipped his shirt on, and we snuggled up in bed for a little bit. My whole body felt as light as a feather, but I could feel some soreness starting to set in. I got up and started filling the tub, then suggested he join me to soak for a bit. I had a bottle of wine, so we opened it and slipped into the tub together.

“At first, we sat on opposite side with our legs kind of intertwined. We chatted and giggled, but I felt myself wanting more. I wanted to feel his arms around me, so I switched sides and sat in front of him, laying back against him while his hands touched and explored me. His fingers found my pussy again, and while he rubbed me softly, I leaned back and started to kiss him.

“Our kissing became very passionate, and soon I turned around and straddled his lap. Luckily it was a big tub with plenty of room to move around. I felt his cock brush against me, already hard again, and that’s when I did something bad, baby.”

The flutter came again, this time more intensely. I knew what she was going to say as soon as I read that.

“Please don’t be mad, but I wanted to fuck him again, and the condom wouldn’t really work in the hot tub, so I just lifted up and slid down on him. I knew I shouldn’t be doing it bare, but his cock felt even better without that layer between us, just his warm cock stretching the walls of my pussy. I couldn’t stop myself.”

She paused, waiting for a response, but I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t mad. I was even more turned on.

“Baby? Are you really mad?” she asked after I was silent for a few minutes.

“No, honey, I’m not. It’s okay. You just caught me off guard. That… that sounds so hot. God, I wish I could have been there to see it!”

“I wish you were, too. I was even imagining you in the room with us, playing with yourself in the bed while we fucked in the hot tub right next to you. That would be so hot!”

“What happened next? Did he pull out when he came?”

“We didn’t really have a lot of room to switch positions, so we stayed like that the whole time, just bucking against each other while the water splashed around us. I came twice before I felt him start to get harder. I knew he was close, and I was going to climb off when he came, but then I started having a third orgasm and all my muscles tightened around him. I couldn’t stop or move, and I had a tight grip on him. His cock exploded and I felt it flooding inside me, filling me with his seed. I feel so bad saying this, but it felt so good. I felt so naughty fucking him without the condom, and letting him cum inside me made me feel like a total slut. I know I shouldn’t have done that, but I loved it. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay!” I said, letting my instincts take over. “I wanted you to give in to your desires, and that’s exactly what you did!”

“Mmm, I’m glad you’re happy about it! It really was so good. We got out of the tub after that and dried off, then cuddled up in bed again. We ended up falling asleep after that, but as soon as we woke up, I felt his hard cock pressing against my back. His hand started to stroke my thigh, and I rolled over and started kissing him. I was still wearing his shirt, so he pulled it up and started stroking my pussy with his fingers. My entire body began to tingle, and I knew I wanted him again.

“I had already fucked him without a condom and let him cum inside me, so I decided it wouldn’t really matter if I did it again. I just pushed my ass back against him and felt him stiffen even more. He slid his boxers off and pressed the head of his cock against my labia. He kept doing that, just teasing me until I reached down and guided him inside me.

“He fucked me like that, our bodies spooning together, nice and slow. His hands were all over me, up under my shirt and cupping my tits to keep a hold on my body. I couldn’t stop moaning because it felt so good. That’s when I said something that turned him on even more. I didn’t mean to say it. It just sort of slipped out because I was thinking about you.”

“What did you say?” I asked.

“I told him his cock felt so much better than my boyfriend’s,” she replied.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” I replied.

“You like that? Are you touching yourself imagining it?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Don’t cum yet. I’m almost done.”

“Okay, baby,” I said, then waited for the next text.

“He was fucking me from behind and I said that, and he just laughed and grabbed me tighter. His hand came up around my throat, not too tight, but just enough to let me know he was in control. You know how much I love that. He started whispering in my ear. He told me he wanted to fill me with cum, to own another man’s girlfriend. I started begging him to do it, but he still held back. He asked me who owned my pussy, and I knew the answer he wanted, so I said it. I told him my pussy belonged to him and I wanted him to fill it. He grabbed me tighter and pushed all the way inside. I felt it squirt into my pussy, not just once but over and over again. I started to climax with him, clutching the sheets as I cried out. It was so intense, I couldn’t move for almost ten minutes afterward.

“The whole night was incredible. Thank you so much for trusting me to do that. You know I love you, right?”

“I know, and I love you, too,” I said. “That was an incredible story. I just came so hard thinking about it.”

“You aren’t mad that he came inside me twice?” she asked hesitantly.

“Not at all,” I replied. “If that’s what you wanted in the moment, I’m glad you did it. So how did you guys end things? Are you seeing him again tonight, or was it just a one time thing?”

“I wasn’t going to, but he did ask me. We got dressed and went to breakfast together. He was asking if I enjoyed it, and I slipped and said something about how I couldn’t wait to tell you. He gave me a look and I realized what I had said, so I decided to come clean and tell him about your fantasy. He wasn’t weirded out, and thought it was great that you trust me that much. That was when he suggested meeting up tonight to make a video for you. I was so nervous about how you would react to everything, I told him I wanted to see how you responded before I gave him an answer.”

“And now that you know my response, what are you thinking?” I pressed.

“I think it’s up to you, baby,” she answered, still holding back.

“Do you want to fuck him again?” I asked.

“I mean, yeah, I would love to. I just don’t know if two nights in a row would be too much for you. That doesn’t make you jealous?”

“It does, but in a good way. I love hearing what you want, your urges and desires. If you want to fuck him again tonight, then do it. I’d love to have a video of you and him together, so that’s a nice little bonus for me!”

“You’re sure?” she asked one final time.

“Yes!”

“Okay! I have to visit a few more offices today, but I’ll set something up for this evening and let you know what’s happening. I love you so much, babe!”

“I love you, too!” I said. “Go get some sun, and have a good day. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Around five in the afternoon, Elise texted me to give me an update on the evening ahead. Once again, I had planned to relax at home and contemplate what she would be doing.

“Hey, honey! I just wanted to let you know the plan. Chris is going to be here in about an hour. This resort has a bunch of pools, and one of them has a bar in the actual pool! So we are going to go down and grab a few drinks and watch the sunset, then probably come back to the room for some fun afterward. I thought you might enjoy knowing that he’s going to be hanging out with me in a public place while I’m wearing one of my skimpy bikinis. I don’t think he’ll be making a lot of eye contact with me, if you know what I mean.”

“Sounds fun,” I replied. “Which bikini are you going to wear for him?”

Elise replied with a photo of herself in an American flag bikini. As promised, it was very skimpy, with two small triangles of fabric holding in her voluptuous breasts. A similarly small triangle covered the mound of her pussy, with two small straps that rested on her hips to hold it in place. It was one of her sexiest bikinis, and I was already getting hard just looking at the picture of it. She was right: he would be spending the evening appreciating her half naked body, not her lovely eyes.

“Damn, you are stunning,” I said after ogling the picture for a few minutes. “Have fun and text me when you can!”

“I will! Now that he knows that you are into it, maybe I can even text you while we are hanging out.”

“That would be amazing!” I said.

An hour passed, and then another. I looked outside and noticed the sun setting, and I imagined them sitting together with drinks in their hand, enjoying the view. I grabbed a beer and decided to do the same.

As soon as I sat down, I got a message from Elise. I opened my phone and found a picture waiting for me. It showed Elise and another man standing waist deep in a pool. She was dressed in the same bikini she had showed me earlier, and he was wearing some swim shorts without a shirt. The picture looked like it had been taken by the bartender, and Elise had her arms wrapped around her friend while she kissed his cheek innocently. She looked like she was having fun and loving life.

This was the first time I had seen Chris, and now I understood her interest in him. His body was toned and muscular, with a strong jaw line and a handsome face. He looked a little like a douchebag, but physically he was perfect. It was exactly what you would want in a fuck buddy.

It was also the first time he had seen his girlfriend touching another man. The kiss was innocent, but I knew the truth beyond the picture. This was the man who had fucked her that very morning, burying his cock in my girlfriend’s tight little pussy while she came all over it. Her lips would be all over his body later that night, and the thought fueled my desire for her.

“You two make quite a cute couple,” I replied. “Shouldn’t he be kissing you too, though? It looks like you two are being a little too well-behaved.”

A few minutes later, another picture popped up. This one was a selfie of the two of them, but this time with the two of them kissing. It wasn’t just a peck; it was clear that their tongues were intertwined in a very passionate kiss.

“Is this better?” the accompanying text read.

“Much,” I texted back, then rubbed my freshly sprung erection.

“He’s has his hands all over me,” she said. “He’s been touching me, and I've had my hand in his lap for the past ten minutes, rubbing his cock behind the bar. I’m pretty sure everyone here thinks we are a couple. Do you want me to be good, or can I keep up the PDA?”

“You can do whatever makes you happy. Too bad you aren’t wearing a wedding ring, because then they’d know what a dirty little slut you are!”

“Mmm, for some reason I really like that idea…”

“What are you thinking?” I asked, knowing that she was up to something.

“You’ll see!”

For the rest of the story, check out Elise’s Friend with Benefits by Alex Skylar on Amazon!