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It’s like I’m losing my mind || Hartonin

dolohovtheweapon:

Antonin didn’t let off her, mouth and fingers keeping the same fast pace as he felt her tense up beneath him and heard her quiet gasps and moans, knowing she was coming. He smiled as she did so, working her though it fast. 

He slowly removed his fingers and slipped back from her, running the back of his hand over his mouth. He smiled up at her, unable to help himself. “Thank you.” He said, laughingly. The amount of malpractice that had just gone one was amazing, and Antonin loved it.

Rosalind’s chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, feeling the muscles in her back burn as she pushed herself off the desk. She stood, watching Antonin with mild interest as her muscles began to relax again. Her game was played, her mind hazy with post-orgasm bliss and she ran her hand through her hair again. She kicked off her shoes, not wanting to bother anymore and briefly debated returning the favor.

It took about two seconds for Rosalind to decide if he wanted the favor returned, he’d have to take it for himself. She supposed the game was back on and she walked around Antonin, sitting down in her chair again. “No, no,” she murmured, her eyes on the back of his head. “Thank you.”

You’re the crazy one. || Harry and Dr. Harcourt

attainmysuccession:

Harry couldn’t help but mutter some sort of disagreement to any mention of her so called understanding. It was so easy. So easy to deny that she grasped anything that he had said. It was much simpler to just say, “You don’t understand, you never will.” than to say, “Yeah, you get me.” It was much less of a promise to confide in a person when you keep them at bay of full comprehension. Or rather to keep yourself reassured that you never really confided in anyone. Either way it was a lie. He again went through the process of addressing her new inquiries.

“I do indeed, Doctor. I live by comparison.” Harry stated in a manner too nonchalant to flow with the conversation. “I can’t help it. I see myself in a degraded manner because of it, but I can’t stop. The judgement, the antagonizations. Even when they seldom come from someone else, they inevitably come from me twice as harsh.”

“I cherish Hermione as one of my wonderfully close companions, don’t get me wrong. I’d say she would call me something along the lines of stubborn, frustrating, and confusing.” Smirk. Frown. “You never know when someone will walk away. I choose not to blind myself with possibly misconstrued affection that will attempt to convince me otherwise. She’s great, we’re friends, she does way more than expected, and I appreciate it but… I won’t hold her to be there all the time. She’ll snap, one day. S’not like I want her to, but that doesn’t mean I can’t anticipate it.” He gazed around the room, not fixing his sight on anything in particular. “I’m not paranoid.” He constituted matter-of-factly.

“I am harsh with myself and I do judge every thought and feeling. It’s not like I want to.” His bottom lip quivered. “I can’t do anything without it passing through my mind with a self-made comment alongside it. Anything. I relay it all over and over in my head. ‘You’re an idiot.’ I’d say. ‘You’re pathetic.’ You don’t know how terrible I feel right now, throughout the duration of today; every day. Every word that has come out of my mouth has had an unspoken one nearby. It’s horrific.” He gave a shudder and a repressed cry.

“I appreciate your will to aid me, I do. I really wish that you could just wave a wand and fix me. I wish it were that effortless, that simple. What if I don’t have that power? What happens then?” He answered his own question with a sob. “I’m a lost cause, Doctor. There’s really no point in saying much more.”

“But why must you compare yourself?” she implored, knowing it was inevitable for anyone really, to live a life in which they gave no thought to the person next to them in relation. Even she herself, a woman of forty-plus years, found herself making unfair comparisons of her own situation to another’s. To say she didn’t understand would be a lie, but professionally speaking, it was unfair to make assumptions. “It’s human nature, yes, but what about it is helpful?”

“No, Harry. I don’t believe you’re paranoid,” Dr. Harcourt sat back, tapping a finger against her chin. “Have you had many friends? That is I mean… true friends? Friends like Miss Granger? Or family even? Anyone who has always been there?”

Harry’s own reluctance to accept help, to accept himself, was frightening. This seemed to be the last desperate attempt of a young boy, to determine whether or not he would stay or leave the life he’d been given. She was slow in her thought, not wanting to make the wrong move, ask the wrong question. It was such a delicate thing. “Have you always felt this way? Always had such a strong sense of dislike for yourself, Harry?”

“No, Harry. No one is a lost cause. Especially not you.” Dr. Harcourt nodded firmly, trying to comfort the boy. “We are all here for a reason, and you have all the power you need, Mr. Potter.”

What is this Madness?| Dr.Harcourt and Lee

whatisariveroftruth:

“Let’s… let’s try something else, what do you say?” 

“That’s fine,”said Lee. He yawned and his jaw made a slight clicking sound. He wondered where she was going with this. “Besides the problems the dreams are causing? No I haven’t been under more stress. ” Change? No, he hadn’t changed anything. In fact, he had been getting back in the swing of things which made the dreams a further nuisance. Wait, that was a change. 

He woke, moved a hand towards his aching shoulder,and gasped in pain sending another jolt of it through his skull. He clamped his mouth shut. He must’ve been hit harder than he thought.He laid his head back on the pillow. This wasn’t his bed. What was he wearing? Where—?How’d he even get here?  Williams grinned, pushed himself out of a chair, and stood at the side of Lee’s bed.“Welcome back.You alright?” 

Lee pantomimed writing something. Williams dug through his pockets, but he didn’t have a pen. He pulled out his cell phone and handed it to Lee. Ugh.He hated texting: Where’s Rosalie? Williams squinted at the tiny screen.

“Lee…” he began hesitantly.”She didn’t…Er. That was years ago.”

“Dislocated my jaw,”said Lee. She didn’t need to know the circumstances. “I couldn’t talk for a while.That’s different.”

“No stress,” she murmured, going through her mental checklist. “No changes,” she checked another imaginary box. She watched Benjamin with interest, half the time he seemed to be thinking of other things, remembering maybe? Dr. Harcourt tapped her finger against her knee as she tried to formulate some sort of plan. She didn’t really seem to be getting anywhere, nor did Mr. Brook seem more interested in speaking to her.

“Dislocated your jaw?” she nodded slowly. “When did that happen in relation to these dreams? Sometimes physical pain causes our brains to react in odd ways, especially when chemicals are involved. You know, medications, anesthesia, that sort of thing.”

It’s like I’m losing my mind || Hartonin

dolohovtheweapon:

Antonin worked harder and faster, tongue and fingers moving in unison and sometimes not, keeping her surprised and constantly working. His fingers were moving fast and he pulled back, sinking his teeth into her thigh again. He kissed back up and sucked her clit into his mouth, keeping as much pressure on it as he could, trying to bring her off at least once before she asked him to do anything else or he changed his mind took the control that he was used to. 

She was writhing against her desk, the smooth wood slipping against her ass as she moved. Her moans grew louder and she knew she was close. She was close… close to letting a patient get her off… on her own desk. Malpractice. Rosalind let out a groan, canting her hips toward Antonin’s mouth, giving in. Her back arched sharply as she came, wordless moans floating through her quiet office. Her breathing was harsh as she let her weight rest on her hands, head thrown back in pleasure.

“Christ,” she bit out, bringing one hand to push her hair from her face. “Jesus Christ.”

It’s like I’m losing my mind || Hartonin

dolohovtheweapon:

At her command, Antonin quickly pulled his mouth away from her to sink his teeth hard into her thigh again, while his fingers picked up where his tongue let off. Antonin was a somewhat selfish man, but there was nothing like bringing someone else off, seeing them come apart due to his own attention.

He kissed back to her core, slipping his tongue in with his fingers for a moment before moving back up to her clit. He felt her press her fingers deep into his hair and he smirked, staying where he was and giving her all the attention he could.

Rosalind moaned loudly as she felt his teeth, and briefly wondered if he’d bite hard enough to draw blood. She watched, giving a soft sigh of contentment as she saw the reddened flesh of her thigh. She gave up a little bit, allowing herself to relax further against the wood of her desk. She looked to the door for a moment, hoping there weren’t any surprise patients sitting in her waiting room… they were getting an earful.

It had been too long since she’d been spread out on her desk, she’d almost forgotten the feel of the cool wood beneath her and whomever between her legs. She looked down at Antonin, giving another soft moan as he brought her closer.

What is this Madness?| Dr.Harcourt and Lee

whatisariveroftruth:

Why did people say that? The only person who ought to apologize would never apologize to him. The words coming from anyone else were meaningless. It was simply something people said. One of those annoying little phrases that were generic and boring.It didn’t help him—it helped them think they had done their duty by acknowledging his pain. He didn’t need that. He knew it was there.He wasn’t trying to get rid of what he deserved to feel.

“…would you tell me about her?” 

“She didn’t like applesauce. Or tapioca.She liked strawberry soy milk. When she lied, there was this certain way she pursed her lips. And she was a terrible liar.” Not like me. Lee shifted in his chair again.He looked at Dr. Harcourt. “I don’t know what you want me to say.I don’t know what I want to say.She can’t throw popcorn at me or put her muddy boots on my coffee table or tell me what rubbish thing she had to do at work today.She’s not here.She’s gone.And it’s my fault.She’s been gone for two years. I don’t know why all of this is happening. I wasn’t having stupid dreams, then. And I don’t want them now.Is this completely necessary?” 

If it wasn’t he didn’t want to do that either. She didn’t have any problems anymore. He did. He was here. Though, he was starting to regret coming to this ‘here’ in particular.

Dr. Harcourt felt the gears turning in her own brain as she listened to Benjamin. She’d seen patients with severe dreams before, dreams about alternate realities, loved ones, apocalyptic endings. These dreams were brought on by any number of things and nine times out of ten she was able to figure out what those reasons were.

“Let’s… let’s try something else, what do you say?” Dr. Harcourt suggested. She could sense this was quickly becoming something Mr. Brook would walk away from if she pushed too hard right away. “Have you been under more stress than usual? Has there been a significant change in your life recently?”

“Our dreams can explain things we haven’t even thought of for ourselves yet…” She knew she wasn’t going to be able to give any absolute answers yet, nor did she think the answers would be what Benjamin wanted to hear. He seemed fragile in his own way, maybe in denial somewhere and she wasn’t going to push just yet.