#i've been away for so long i forgot my tags

[prismatoxic]

loving the timeline i got to witness of:

-yahtzee reviews a game on zero punctuation -in the course of the script he finds a reason to bring up ayn rand/atlus shrugged, mostly as a joke -brings up ayn rand again as the closing punchline -final credits message is "bioshock was a good game wasn't it" -one day later the escapist uploads a new extra punctuation about why bioshock's opening is amazing

did you get bioshock on the brain by any chance, mr. croshaw?

idk what his schedule of making ZP/EP looks like, though i do suspect that EP might possibly be visually edited by someone else? i'm like 99% sure yahtz still does ZP by himself except to pass it by matt the editor for notes on where he should maybe swear less, but EP is kind of visually different (despite using yahtzee's art still) so maybe he just reads his script and lets matt do the visuals? idk. the man's busy he puts out 2 videos like every week, i wouldn't blame him

regardless, my point is that idk where in the process he decided to make an EP on bioshock, but the idea of him writing the sea of stars script, thinking about ayn rand a little too hard, and getting on a bioshock kick because of it is pretty damn funny

if he addresses this in the bioshock video i'm going to feel very silly but i was just taking a food + youtube break so i only watched the sea of stars review for now

[hailsatanacab]

Ao3 - word count: 12k

Mercifully, Duke’s in the cave when he gets the call.

He doesn’t recognise the number, but they’re tracing it as soon as he realises the gravity of the situation. It’s the end of his shift, the light is beginning to dim as the sun goes down, and soon the real signal will be lighting up the sky when the police find the remains of the poor guy that intercepted a message meant for him.

How hadn’t he seen this coming? Where had he gone wrong? How had Joker—

It doesn’t matter how, all that matters is that an innocent Gothamite is now paying for his mistakes, and��

A hand clamps down onto his shoulder, making him jump. He looks up at Batman’s stony face, grim and dark as it always is when they’re dealing with the Joker. Still, he’s grateful for the interruption, and part of him wants to lean into the touch. “B?”

“We’re having trouble with the trace, perhaps Joker is interfering with the transmission. Did he give you any clues as to where he could be?”

“All he said was that my package was accidentally delivered to him instead… Bruce, what if he’s…?”

“You can’t think like that, we’ve got to think about what we can do to find him and help him.” Despite the gruff tone, the efficiency in his words, the hand on Duke’s shoulder gives a comforting squeeze.

Right, that’s right, thinking what if’s and playing the blame game isn’t going to help right now. There’ll be time for that later. Right now, he has to figure out just where they are and how to get to them as quickly as possible.

The Joker had followed the call pretty quickly, which meant that he was either in the building or in the area. It’s unlikely that he would have entrusted such a threat to FedEx, especially since it had his name on it. 

His full, civilian name.

He brushes past the implications of that in favour of concentrating on where they might be. There’ll be time for a breakdown later. If there’s a later.

Joker must have been reasonably sure that Duke Marlon Thomas was attached to wherever he delivered the package, which means that it must have his name on it somewhere. He’s only just officially been fostered with the Waynes, and he hasn’t been in his parent’s house since they’ve been in the hospital, so…

“My old apartment,” he says, with a certainty that he doesn’t fully feel. “A safehouse I’ve kept on the side—I moved out a couple weeks ago, perhaps he’s the new tenant?”

“Stay here, everyone else with me. Oracle, contact Nightwing and Red Hood, let them know the situation and keep an eye out for any movement.”

“B, you can’t be serious!” Duke’s protests are not the only ones in the cave, at least everyone else thinks that he should be taking point on this, too. “It’s my mess, you can’t keep me here!”

“It’s for your own sake, Signal. You’re too close to this, I don’t want you emotionally compromised in the field.” 

The hand on his shoulder gives him another squeeze, but Duke shoves it away, the weight patronising now.

“I don’t want to see you hurt, Duke.” Bruce’s voice is softer, barely any Batman in it, and while that makes Duke stop and take a breath, it doesn’t make him change his mind.

“I’m going, Batman. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

There’s a long pause, long enough so that Duke begins to weigh up the pros and cons of just leaving right now, when Batman finally nods his assent and Duke slams his helmet back onto his head.

“You do not leave my side. Understood?”

“Whatever you say, B, let’s go.”

It takes longer to get them there than Signal wants it to. He’s weaving through cars at breakneck speeds, then ditching his bike and taking to the rooftops when the traffic gets too bad. It’s long enough for Oracle to dig up some info on the poor guy, as much good as that will do for him.

“Name on the lease is Danny Nightingale,” Oracle says, keys clicking away as she digs up whatever else she can. 

The wind whistles past his ear as he soars through the sky, his blood roaring as he pushes himself to go faster. Danny. They have the right place. There’s still time. 

 “Paperwork was finalised about 12 hours ago, I guess Joker didn’t get the memo. The deposit was paid for entirely in cash. I’ll see what else I can find.” 

12 hours. 12 hours and one bad apartment and Danny’s—no. There’s still time. He’s throwing his grapple farther, making more daring swings, and he knows Batman is cursing him from behind but he doesn’t care, he has to get there, he can’t let someone die because of him, he can’t.

When the building finally comes into view, Batman sends Spoiler and Robin around and up the fire escape while they go through the inside. They come up into the hallway towards Duke’s old apartment as quickly and as quietly as they can. There’s no sounds of fighting, none of Joker’s creepy laughter, just the small, tinny voice of a man.

“So, what now? Are you going to kill him?”

Signal and Batman share a look.

“Ancients, no. You know I don’t like doing that… But I’ve got to do something, right? Can’t have him killing more birds—plus, he knows Signal’s identity, that’s dangerous. I can’t imagine he’s just going to leave it, even with the beak.”

That’s him, that’s Danny! Signal’s stomach does a giddy flip in relief when he recognises his voice, thank God he’s okay! But, wait… are they talking about the Joker?

They’re just outside the door now and Batman holds up his hand, signalling for them to wait. Oracle, watching the camera feed from their masks, relays the message to Spoiler and Robin waiting outside the apartment window.

Over Batman's shoulder, Signal spots one of Joker’s henchmen and a concerningly large pool of blood. Dead, bullet wound to the head. So they’ve not escaped without any victims, then, but the question is: who did this?

“He’s the Joker, Danny, of course he’s going to try again.”

“Yeah, but like, I can’t just kill him. That Bat guy is gonna come up and be all like, ‘This is my territory, how dare you interfere with things you know nothing about, bleurgh, I’m a bat, get out of my city,’ and I’ve only just got here, I can’t be kicked out already!”

Duke can’t help himself, he laughs. Maybe it’s the rush of relief to see that the guy’s alright, maybe it’s the bang-on growling Batman impression, maybe it’s adrenaline, who cares? It’s funny as hell.

“I don’t sound like that.” Batman crosses his arms, an intimidating shadow in the doorway. 

“Oh, shit!” 

Danny whirls around, dropping his phone in his panic. It clunks on the floor, screen upright, and Signal can see two people on the other end of the video call. Both about as old as Danny in front of them, late 20s-early 30s at least, one African-American man bathed in the blue light of his screen and one white, very goth woman surrounded by sunlight and plants.

It also draws Duke’s eyes to the other body on the floor. 

And the crowbar lying next to him.

Familiar green hair soaked with blood, blotchy white makeup smeared pink and what bare skin he could see is starting to swell and mottle with fresh bruises. If not for the signature purple suit, Signal would have his doubts that this is the Joker at all. Even after going several rounds with Batman, he’s never looked this bad. 

For a wild moment, Signal thinks he’s dead. It’s so unlike what he thought he’d find here—the complete opposite of the mess, the tough fight, the terrifying game, that he was expecting—that he can’t help the small gasp of relief that escapes him.

But he’s not. As the guy said on the phone, he’s still very much alive, and still very much a problem. Signal can just about make out the subtle shift of his breath, the ripples it makes in the puddle of blood. The small bloom of light in his chest that tells him he’s merely unconscious flickers like a candle just waiting to be snuffed out.

Signal’s starting to see Jason’s point of view.

Curiously, even knocked out as he is, he’s still clutching at his throat like he’s choking down his own venom.

“Wow, okay,” Signal breathes, following Batman as he steps over the dead body in the doorway, still not quite believing what he’s seeing.

“Everything alright, Danny?” the man on the other side of the phone asks, craning his head around as if it would get him a better view of the room.

“Yeah! It’s the Bat guy—not Manbat, Tucker, the other one.”

“For the last time, Danny, his name is Batman! You would know that if you just listened to me for once in your life!”

“What was that, Sam? I couldn’t hear you over Tucker’s crushing disappointment about not seeing Manbat in the flesh.”

“I swear to—”

“Anyway, I gotta go!” Danny cheerfully interrupts, finger hovering over the button to hang up. “Time to see what we’re going to do to the Joker! Love you, bye!”

“You are not going to do anything to the Joker,” Batman growls when Danny looks at him expectantly. “We are going to hand him over to the authorities.”

“The authorities?” Danny raises a sceptical eyebrow and, again, Duke is very much reminded of Jason. “Okay, so I’ve barely been in Gotham for 24 hours but even I know that the authorities aren’t the people you go to for shit like this. Contrary to what she thinks, I did listen to Sam’s safety presentation—or, well, some of it, at least.”

“Her safety presentation told you to beat up the Joker?” Signal can’t help but ask.

“Honestly, the Joker slide came up after some pretty traumatising revelations about my friend’s taste in partners—he said he’d smash Manbat—so I had to block most of the villain and vigilante slides out. Luckily, the whole police section happened before that. I remember it very vividly because Tucker and I both said smash for your police commissioner. Obviously, ACAB, but damn… Cuff me, you know what I mean?”

Batman says nothing, but his scowl deepens and honestly, Signal’s pretty happy right now that he can’t read Batman’s face as well as the others yet because there’s no way he wants to know the actual answer to that question.

“Yeah, you do,” Danny says with a wink and a click of his tongue. “It’s the ‘stache.”

A wink. He winks at Batman.

Everyone on the comms dissolves into cackling laughter, almost drowning out Oracle’s whispered “Oh, my God…” Yeah, there’s no way Oracle—nor Commissioner Gordon—are ever going to live this down.

Signal’s not entirely sure what’s happening today, but when he woke up this morning he did not expect to be watching a random guy flirt with Batman over the Joker’s body. Weird how things turn out.

“Who are you, what happened here?”

Trust Batman to cut through the shenanigans and get right down to business.

“Danny,” the man says simply, no last name, extending a hand. Batman doesn’t take it. Signal thinks it’s rude, especially considering the Joker’s out cold in front of them. It looks like Danny’s done them a favour, the least Batman can do is shake his hand.

After a pretty awkward few seconds, Danny shifts to offer it to Signal instead, which he takes gratefully. It feels pretty good to be shaking the guy’s hand and not staring down at his corpse. Danny’s grip is surprisingly strong, which makes Signal squint at him a little, but… there’s nothing suspicious about Danny’s aura. He looks normal.

Well, normal in terms of no meta abilities. You can’t just beat up Joker and still be called normal.

“Signal, right?”

“That’s right,” Signal replies with a smile. Danny smiles back. “Glad to see you’re alright, man.”

“Yeah, sorry to have panicked you. Also, sorry for opening your mail, but I’m kinda glad I did, you know?” Danny’s eyes swing back to Batman with a sarcastic roll. He holds his hands up in a mocking surrender. They’re caked in blood, dry and flaking, and Signal’s stomach turns with thoughts of what might have been. “I know, I know, I was a very naughty boy and committed mail fraud. Please don’t hand me over to ‘the authorities’, I’m sorry, okay?”

Batman and Signal share a look. Sorry to have panicked you, sorry for opening your mail. The package was meant for Duke, not Signal.

Well, it’s not a huge leap, Signal figures. He knew he was compromised, but… to be honest, he hadn’t expected Danny to be alive enough for it to be an issue. He thought he’d be dealing with the Joker, not with this as well.

The knowledge of it settles like a rock in the pit of his stomach. What now?

“But it’s a crime I’d commit again if it meant I could keep this chucklefuck down. It’s a fucked up situation,” Danny continues, serious now, “you shouldn’t have to experience it.”

“What was the situation?” Batman growls out. There’s no doubt he’s come to the same conclusions that Signal has, which is why he’s using his scary Batman voice and not his ‘this civilian’s just been through a traumatic experience’ Batman voice. If he’s trying to intimidate Danny, does that mean that Signal should consider him a threat, too?

Danny turns his back on them, as calm and relaxed as if he were with friends. Guess Batman should kick his scary voice up a notch, because Danny doesn’t seem bothered at all. 

He moves towards his kitchen counter, picks up a box and a card, and brings them back over.

“This was outside my door when I got back from a meeting. I didn’t bother looking at the name until after I opened it, but when I realised it wasn’t for me, I googled you and found your number—which, like, come on dude, keep it secure—and then this all happened. Gotta admit, great second day in Gotham. Flawless.”

“I’m sorry, Danny, you should never have gotten caught up in this.” Signal frowns, hands clenching by his sides. Sure, he’s made it out without so much as a scratch, but that doesn’t negate the fact that it was Signal’s fault it happened in the first place. If Danny had been anyone else, if—

“Hey, never apologise for something a clown has done. They’re the worst.” Danny’s hand lands on his shoulder, the solid weight of it comforting enough so that Signal feels some of his tension ease. “His actions are not your responsibility and holding yourself accountable for every building broken or every civilian hurt is only going to break and hurt you in turn, which is exactly what they want.”

The heavy, serious aura of his eye contact breaks and an easy-going grin replaces it. Danny’s hand drops and he shrugs with one shoulder. “Or, at least, that’s what Jazz—my know-it-all sister—says. Easier said than done, though, right?”

Is that… the voice of experience? Just who is this guy? Signal tries to catch Batman’s eye, but he’s too busy staring at the broken bird in the box. The sight of it makes Signal’s stomach turn, so instead he picks up the card and somehow that’s even worse.

At least mommy and daddy won’t know how fast you replaced them!

Fuck. What the fuck?

“Red Robin, Orphan,” Signal speaks into his earpiece, cursing the way his voice shakes, “I need you to go to Wayne Hospital and check on my—check on—check on them, please.”

“You got it, Signal. Rerouting now.” Red Robin’s voice is grim, but hearing the determination lets him take a deep breath, lets him compartmentalise. They’ll be fine. No one can beat Red Robin and Orphan.

When he first got the call to tell him that his parents were hit with Joker gas and that it was possible they might never recover, he’d felt… Well, how are you even meant to feel with something like that? In the space of one call, his life changed forever and the people he loved the most were gone.

Now, it’s happening again.

But this time, it’s his fault; all of his friends, his family, they’re all in danger because of him.

This could kill him.

This could kill everyone.

“Batman…”

And Batman just looks at him. 

No words, no reprimand, no comfort. He just looks at him, face unreadable, mask looming, and somehow that's even worse. Duke can tell he's not really seeing him, he's seeing everything that could have been. Every mistake that's hurt someone, hurt a Robin, hurt one of his children. Jason. 

How close he is to losing them all again. 

It’s the Joker, after all—now he has one of their identities, he’ll know the rest—and if Duke had just tidied his ends up a little better, if he were just a little more vigilant, if his phone number wasn’t on fucking google, then perhaps the bird lying in front of them wouldn’t be so broken, the smiling face on the card would—

“Come on, dude, what did I just say? Stop catastrophising. It’s not your fault. Yes, he knows who you are, but don’t worry about it! We have an understanding now, don’t we, J? You won’t be telling anyone, right?” 

So saying, he nudges Joker with his foot, but there’s no response. Doesn’t even groan. Jeez, what did the guy do to him? 

Signal resolves to slip Jason a copy of his mask’s video just in case he doesn’t get to see it in person.

“He won’t—oh, shit! He can still write it, I didn’t even think of that! One sec, let me break his hands real quick so he gets the message.”

Before Danny can take a step forward, Batman comes back to himself and darts out in front of him to hold him back and it’s that, more than anything, that snaps Signal out of it.

Now, look, it’s not like Signal is hungry for blood, but knowing that he’s compromised, that someone knows his identity and has already used it to try and hurt people—will likely use it to try and hurt even more people—and it being the Joker, too… his eyes start to burn and his fists tremble and honestly, he’s kinda on Danny’s side for this.

“B—” 

He doesn’t even get to move before Spoiler comes tumbling through the window, Robin close behind her with a much more graceful landing.

“Oh, come on, B, let the guy break his hands!”

“We don’t torture people.” Batman turns to face Spoiler, but he still keeps his hand against Danny’s chest in warning.

“But—” She barely gets the word out before Danny interrupts her.

“He was going to torture Signal. He would still torture Signal, if he could. He made it explicitly clear that he was going to torture me in Signal’s place so he could then emotionally torture Signal.” Danny cocks his head, examining Batman with a critical eye. “Not only that, but he tortured your other one, too, right? Before he killed him? That’s what he said.”

“We don’t torture people,” Batman repeats, voice darker and pressing harder against Danny’s chest to force him into taking a step back. 

Except… except to Signal’s eye, it looks more like Danny lets himself be moved. There’s a brief moment where he stands stock still, where Bruce is pushing with a force that should move pretty much anyone, and it doesn't even look like Danny feels it. It almost reminds him of Superman’s strength, but… That’s ridiculous, right?

The guy’s not glowing like a meta would, nevermind like a Kryptonian does, so what’s his deal?

Whatever. Danny’s alive and safe, but it could have been a very different story—and it would have been Duke’s fault, no matter what he says—so he’s not going to press whatever he’s got going on when he’s more than likely alive because of it.

“Both of you should be reasonable,” Robin says, looking between Danny and Spoiler. “Breaking his hands will accomplish nothing in the long run.”

“Thank you, Rob—” Batman tries, but Robin immediately interrupts him off.

“The obvious solution is that I should cut them off.”

“Oh, Ancients, he’s so bloodthirsty, I love him. Yes, little Robin, cut his hands off!”

“Robin,” Batman warns, raising his voice to be heard above Danny’s enthusiastic clapping. He pivots towards Robin, his hand now holding him back instead, keeping his katana in its sheath.

“Batman,” Robin snarks back, but thankfully stays put. Don’t want to be dealing with all that again. “If the situation is to be believed, Signal is compromised. The best course of action would be to silence the Joker and anyone else that knows. I will not lose my life because of one person’s incompetence.”

Yeah, that was definitely aimed at him. Not entirely unexpected, either. Signal swallows and looks down, eyes bouncing off the blood splatters over the floor. Robin’s always thought of himself as being superior, but to have it proven so succinctly, and to have it directly said to him, is something else entirely.

“Silenced? Oof, little Robin is out for blood and while I am here for that and totally support it, I’ve gotta ask… Anyone? You’re going to silence anyone that knows?” Danny’s laugh is forced and he rubs at the back of his neck. Signal can read between the lines. Robin is scary.

But it does also raise the question of what they’re going to do with Danny. They certainly can’t ‘silence him’ like Robin suggests.

“Anyone that cannot be trusted with the knowledge, of course.” Robin sniffs and moves to draw his katana again. He doesn’t get very far, not with Batman still blocking the way. “Keep calling me ‘little’ and you will find yourself added to the list.”

Danny holds his hands up in surrender. “Alright, point taken, just Robin it is. Don’t add me, please, you’re very intimidating.

“Also,” Danny adds, glancing towards Batman after a short pause, as if he’s waiting for him to say something, “it’s not Signal’s fault that his identity was compromised. I don’t know how it happened, and while I’m sure Signal will be cracking down on any leaks as soon as he can, you can’t lose sight of the real villain. Not that it’s hard to keep track of his snot-coloured hair and terrible fashion sense. The only place you could lose him in would be Willy Wonka’s factory, the Oompa-Loompa looking ass.”

While Signal appreciates Danny fighting his corner for him—both figuratively and literally, considering Joker in front of them—the look on Robin’s face is absolutely murderous and for the second time today, Signal’s genuinely afraid that Danny’s going to lose his life.

“He’s right,” Batman gruffs out, sounding about as painful as it looks for him to get out. “You can’t blame Signal for this and if I hear any more of it, I will be benching you.”

Whatever Danny was waiting for Batman to say, that seemed to be the wrong thing. He scoffs and rolls his eyes—which has Signal having to smother a smile because Robin does the exact same thing at the exact same time and he knows just how badly laughing at it will irritate him. 

And yeah, while that kind of makes Signal want to do it, the thought of having to deal with a sulking Damian around the manor for a week is enough to put him off.

Obviously, Danny’s decided to play some kind of hero today because not even a second later there’s an encouraging smile on his face and he’s back talking to Robin like he’s not tempting fate.

“You’re very intimidating. I like your sword.”

“It is a katana.” Robin sniffs, still not letting go of the handle. “And I’m not a child. Do not talk down to me.”

“I’m not! Love a katana, but I’m more partial to a double-edge, myself. Oh! Give me a minute, you’ll love this!” 

So saying, he breaks off with a hum and starts rummaging through his bulging cupboards and drawers, muttering about how “she’ll kill me again if I’ve lost it already”. Is he talking about Sam? She certainly seemed formidable on the call. 

Signal watches as Batman’s hands creep down to his utility belt, his stance wary. His eyes never leave Danny, tracking him as he flits from corner to corner in the small apartment.

“You any good with it?” he calls out from half under the coffee table, face scrunched as he blindly reaches around. What’s he looking for? “It’s been ages since I’ve had a proper sword fight, you wanna spar sometime? Bet I could teach you a few things.”

“I have been trained since birth by the world’s deadliest assassins, I doubt you could teach me anything.” Robin draws himself up straighter and turns to fully face Danny, a haughty expression on his face. “Besides… Batman says I am not allowed to sword fight civilians.”

“Aw, what a spoilsport.” Danny sticks his tongue out—actually sticks his tongue out—at Batman as he breezes past them all back into the kitchen. “She gave me apples, pomegranates, and that cute little owl statue to bless the new kitchen, which means I was unpacking her box over here with the fruit bowl, owl is on the window, sword is… in the breadbox!”

So saying, he whips his hand in and out of the box lightning fast, the wooden slats falling shut with a thwack, and twirls to face them all, brandishing a shortsword high in the air as if he’s just pulled it from a stone. Just as quick, Batman grabs a batarang and holds it behind his shoulder, poised to throw, in case Danny decides to come at them all mediaeval style. Or, stabby Robin style. Sure, he beat up the Joker pretty easily, but Signal can’t see him doing the same to four of Gotham’s vigilantes. Not all at once.

“Oh, will you chill out, I’m not going to do anything! I just thought Robin would like to see it.” 

Slowly, he brings the sword back down and lays it over both hands to present it to Robin, who, despite himself, leans in for a closer look.  It looks fairly impressive to Signal, who’s lost every single bout he’s had with Robin so far (in his defence, he hasn’t been using his powers. Yet). The leaf-shaped blade almost glows in the light. It reminds Signal of those swords used in the old Jason and the Argonauts films his dad used to watch.

It’s only now that Robin’s distracted that Signal allows himself a smile. It’s nice to see the little brat act his age, even if he’s still so desperately trying to hold himself back. He can kind of see what Dick’s been saying lately. They really do all need some time to hang out together, out of costume, and just be normal for once. Let Damian experience being a kid.

Even if it means giving the stabby Robin more swords.

“It’s a—”

“Xiphos. Secondary weapon to the Ancient Greeks, used after the dory or javelin has been thrown. Popular during the Iron Age. Why do you use this blade?”

“I’m impressed! You really know your swords, huh? It was given to me by one of my teachers—and sidenote, if you see a scary woman dressed in, like, a black bedsheet, please don’t tell her I kept her sword in a breadbox. She will flay me.” Danny stops and thinks for a moment, face creased in concern. “And please don’t tell her I said she was wearing a bedsheet.”

“It is understandable that she would be mad. Not only is it irresponsible to keep it there, it is also extremely disrespectful to both the blade and your teacher. I’m sure she would be ashamed of having such a student, if she were aware.”

“Damn, dude, don’t hold back, jeez. In my defence, how else am I meant to slice my bread?” Danny laughs and quickly holds up his hands in surrender as Robin sputters at the indignity. “I’m joking, I’m joking! I’m trying to find a proper way to display them, I promise, but it’s a little difficult to get something big enough for the Zweihander. Barely fits under my bed as it is.”

“A Zweihander? I find it hard to believe that you could even lift one, let alone wield it.”

“Guess you’ll have to accept my challenge and find out! If it means it can happen then you can supervise, B-man. Promise I’ll go easy on him.” A wicked grin grows across Danny’s face as he very obviously looks Batman up and down. “Or, perhaps you’d like to have a go yourself?”

A chorus of retching comes through the comms, and Oracle laughs back in vengeance. Luckily, Danny’s flirting seems to go over Robin’s head.

“How dare you! If we are to spar, we will do it properly. I do not go easy on anyone.”

“Wanna hold it?” Danny offers, breaking through Robin’s tirade with a knowing smile. He lifts the xiphos so it’s eye-level with Robin and Signal can practically see him start to glow with excitement.

Robin pauses, squinting up at Danny, then glances towards Batman for permission, almost on the balls of his feet as he leans closer. Batman doesn’t even get a chance to nod—or more likely, shake his head—before Robin makes up his mind.

“If you insist.” His voice is grave and restrained when he answers, but Signal swears he can hear it quiver.

Danny just laughs as Robin practically snatches it off him before Batman can open his mouth to intervene. Amazing. Signal’s never seen him like this before, he’s almost… cute.

“It’s so lightweight! The balance is superb, who is the maker? It is a masterpiece and I must purchase one for my collection.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Spoiler says, with her hand in the air. Judging by her grin, she’s not sorry at all. “But it’s my turn with the new guy now, and new guy? I just gotta say, I’m a big fan of your work.”

It’s surprising just how reassuring it was earlier in the cave to have everyone racing behind him, knowing that they all had his back, no matter what they found in the apartment. But with Spoiler’s grin growing feral, he’s kinda wishing they all stayed behind, now.

“Thanks! I’m Danny, pleasure to meet you! Love the fit!” This time, when Danny offers his hand, Spoiler doesn’t hesitate to shake it. “And sorry, Robin, the maker is no longer living and is super particular about who has his swords.”

Robin barely acknowledges him with a nod (which is mildly concerning—Signal was fairly sure he’d throw a tantrum not being able to get a similar sword) before moving farther into the apartment and into the space behind the ratty looking couch, so he can begin running through several sword forms.

“Thanks, purple truly is the new black. So, Danny, in your opinion, what’s better? Flowers or chocolates?”

“Chocolate’s never tried to kill me before, so, that one. Why?”

“Nightwing ETA three minutes, Red Hood incoming now.” Oracle interrupts.

At least Red Hood will be able to see the mess Joker’s in first hand and Signal doesn’t have to worry about smuggling out copies of their mask feed. Spoiler presses her finger into her ear.

“I would ask you to elaborate but given that we’re in Gotham, where plants have tried to kill the majority of the city several times over, I won’t! Also, tomorrow you probably won’t be able to say the same.”

“Is… that a threat?”

“That, my friend, is a sweet, sweet promise.”

“What?”

“I’m saying that this time tomorrow you’ll be able to open up your own chocolate shop with the amount of thank you gifts coming your way.”

“Police have been alerted to several gunshots in the building, but I’ve rerouted the patrol cars to give you more time with him. ETA roughly 15 minutes. They don’t know about Joker’s involvement yet.”

Duke sees Batman type something quickly into his wrist computer, fingers flitting over the screen. He can only be asking for more information on Danny. Something about it rubs Signal the wrong way: why look a gift horse in the mouth? 

Batman has every right to be suspicious. An unknown operative in the city, taking out one of the top players on his second day here. Is he trying to make a name for himself?

Yes, Batman has every right to be suspicious.

It just feels like shit.

“So I’m not in trouble?” Danny asks, grinning expectantly at all of them even as they continue to ignore him for Oracle’s updates. “Thought for sure I’d be in trouble.”

Spoiler holds her hands up in an exaggerated shrug. “I never said that.”

“There’s not much I can find about him on the internet, no social media pages, nothing. You’ll like this, though. The ‘meeting’ he went to today was a job interview. For an R&D position at Wayne Enterprises.”

Duke can practically see the suspicion ratchet to a higher level behind Batman’s cowl. It doesn’t mean anything, though—half of the people desperate enough to move to Gotham, of all places, come with the hopes of landing a job at WE—it’s probably just a coincidence.

“It went pretty well, apparently. He’s on the shortlist for the second round of interviews.”

Probably.

“Guys?” Danny asks, grin fading into confusion. “You’re not going to kick me out of Gotham when I’ve finally just got rid of all my boxes, right?”

But there’s no such thing as coincidences. That’s lesson number one with Batman. Thinking there is only means you’re overlooking something.

Duke’s made enough mistakes lately. He won’t underestimate potential threats again.

But… What is he meant to do here? 

The sound of shattering glass jolts him out of his thoughts. 

Everyone falls into battle-ready stances, and with a deep breath, he focuses on his ghost sense to watch the glowing figure of a man crash into the living room. Immediately, he relaxes—Red Hood making an entrance, dramatic as always—and out of the corner of his eye he can see everyone else following his lead, obviously realising he’s not seen a threat.

Blinking away the black spots and afterimages with a shake of his head, Signal tentatively smiles at him when he finally follows his future image inside the apartment proper. It’s hard to know where he stands, with Jason. Hell, it’s hard to know where any of them stand with Jason. Whatever peace is between them now is a fragile thing and Signal’s under no illusions that they’re all one bad day away from burning all the bridges they’ve worked so hard to rebuild.

Still… this has to be a pretty good day for him, though, right?

“Holy fuck, it’s true.” 

Judging by the breathiness that crackles through Red Hood’s voice modulator, Signal’s going to go out on a limb and say, yeah, it’s a pretty good day.

“Dude, did you just break my window? That’s so rude, man, the front door is literally still open. Hell, that other window is literally still open.” Danny turns and points an accusatory finger at Batman. “You’re paying for it.”

“Is he dead?”

“Unconscious and in need of medical assistance.” Batman answers, conveniently ignoring Danny. Red Hood doesn’t even spare him a glance.

Dropping his hand, Danny snorts and nudges at the Joker with his foot again. This time, the Joker groans, a wet gurgling sound at the back of his throat that has Signal grimacing. Jeez, Danny really did a number on him.

“Yeah, he’ll bounce back, unfortunately.” Danny clicks his tongue and sighs. “Probably sooner rather than later. The universe always needs a butt for its jokes. Emphasis on the butt.”

Stepping round the body, head down, Red Hood drinks in the sight. Sure, he’s not dead and from the slump in his shoulders, it’s not what he was hoping for, but there has to be some vindication in seeing him all broken and beaten like that.

Signal wonders if it makes Jason feel better. Does it make Duke feel better?

“So, how many more of you am I expecting? Are all the Justice League going to turn up? Do I need to open the rest of the windows before they get smashed, too? At this rate, I’m going to be paying more for window repairs than I did for the apartment.”

Despite Danny’s cheerful sarcasm, Signal can feel a tension building in the room. Danny’s eyes never stop tracking Red Hood as he moves around the body. Sure, his shoulders are loose and his arms folded in an easy manner, he’s relaxed, but… For the first time since they’ve been here, Signal can almost see the power that took down the Joker. The lazy confidence of being the strongest in the room, like a yawning lion.

 A quick glance around shows everyone else wearily watching Danny, too. They’ve all felt the dynamic shift.

Only Red Hood seems unaffected, but who really knows where he’s looking, how he’s feeling, with that mask on?

When he’s satisfied with committing the Joker’s condition to memory, Hood stops just in front of Signal, and, absurdly, Signal finds himself standing a little straighter at his attention. He only relaxes when Red Hood takes off his helmet, revealing the soft smile underneath.

“I’m glad you’re okay, nightlight. We’ll get this fixed, whatever it takes.”

“Thanks, Hood.” Signal smiles back. He’s grateful for it, he really is.

And… is it his imagination, or does the tension drop? Nothing’s changed, not outwardly, but it feels like Danny brightens, like he likes what he sees.

“You wear a mask underneath your mask? Jazz would have so much to say about that.”

“You’re the one that did this?” Red Hood's attention swings over towards Danny, keeping the Joker’s body in between them to maintain an intimidating distance. Without the modulator, Signal can pick up on the quiver in his voice.

“Really, he did it to himself, kicking my door down like he’s something special. Refused to make me a balloon animal, can you believe it?”

“You asked him for a balloon animal and you’re still alive?”

Danny barks out a laugh as if Hood’s just told a particularly funny joke, and shrugs. “You're half right. I’d have settled for a sword, I’m not picky.”

“And then?”

“Then… we had a bit of a disagreement about how the rest of the show would go.”

“No. Uh-uh.” Red Hood moves to his right and pulls out another one of the chairs from the kitchen island and sits down expectantly. “I need details.”

“Yes,” Batman says, moving forward and crossing his arms. “What happened, exactly?”

“Hey, fuckface, why don’t you take a step back and don’t fucking interrupt again. You will not take this away from me.”

“Jeez, you want popcorn or something? You seem very invested in this.” Danny’s eyes flicker down to take in the whole of Red Hood. “Why is that?”

Before anyone can answer, Spoiler starts bouncing on her heels, clapping her hands. “Hell yeah, if you’re offering! This will be way more entertaining with popcorn!”

“Uh, right, yeah, pretty sure I’ve got some in some cupboards somewhere. Microwave might not be plugged in yet though, I was kinda hoping for pizza tonight, but I think this whole… thing scared the pizza boy away.”

Danny makes a move towards the kitchen area with a sigh, but Spoiler throws a hand out to stop him just as both Batman and Red Hood growl.

“Don’t worry about it, clown-killer, I’ll find it! You keep the story going.”

Honestly, Signal’s a little jealous of how Spoiler is able to shrug off the disapproving glare Batman sends her way. He’s also a little jealous of how Spoiler is getting some popcorn. Inching his way over to her means having to cross past Batman, which… yeah, Signal definitely needs to work on shrugging off that disapproving glare.

“Do want to point out that the clown is still very much alive, I absolutely did not kill him and I do not deserve such a cool nickname. There’s no need for any of this, and I cannot stress this enough—we good, B.”

“That remains to be seen. Explain.” Batman growls, stepping forward in an intimidation tactic that didn’t work the first time and Signal’s fairly certain isn’t going to work now.

Proving Signal right, all Danny does is roll his eyes before, thankfully, beginning his explanation.

It’s… it’s something.

The microwave starts to whirr and the gun shots in Danny’s story come alive with muted popping as Spoiler gets the snacks ready. It does add a certain whimsical air to it all, with the sweet and salty smell wafting through the apartment. Like they’re all at the cinema.

At the end of the tale, Signal’s not convinced that Danny doesn’t have some metahuman strength in his blood, after all. Enough to give him that extra boost of confidence needed to thoroughly thrash the Joker with his own crowbar (a fact that Red Hood crows in delight over, when Danny tells them).

For someone—Signal’s not entirely sure he can keep calling Danny a civilian after hearing his tale—to beat the Joker to a pulp is one thing. Joker’s just a man, as much as he likes to think otherwise, and men are very capable of being drop-kicked straight into the hospital.

But stopping him with an honest-to-goodness curse is another thing altogether. Signal can practically feel Batman’s blood pressure rising from where he stands. 

“I was doing alright—would probably have just left Jojo unconscious and that would be that, you know?—until he mentioned what he did to the, uh, previous Robin.” Danny’s eyes flicker over to Red Hood, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the audience.

The microwave dings and, wordlessly, Spoiler rips open the popcorn and pours it into a plastic mixing bowl, not taking her eyes off the scene in front of her.

“I guess that’s a sore spot for me,” he says with a shrug. “Felt like I had to do something to make sure that it didn’t happen again. Thought y’all might appreciate it.”

There’s a slight smile on his face as he rubs the back of his neck, bashful.

Does Batman appreciate it? Signal does. Surely, Batman must, too.

Right?

“You cursed him? What does that entail?”

It speaks to Batman’s dedication to his interrogation that he doesn’t even flinch when Nightwing cleanly somersaults through the open window, rolling through the landing and immediately making his way over to Spoiler and the giant bowl of popcorn she’s been making her way through.

“Hey, I’m Nightwing, don’t mind me, I’m just here for the show.”

Danny gives him a thumbs up. “Thanks for not breaking a window, Nightwing.”

“So, you cursed the Joker, did I hear that right?” Nightwing asks, all the while fielding Spoiler’s attempts at keeping him away from her prized bowl of popcorn.

Before Danny can elaborate at all, they’re interrupted by a long, drawn-out moan from below.

Instead of any sort of coherent explanation, a wicked grin slides across Danny’s face. “Can I knock him out again? Please?”

“I’d like him awake. We need to question him.” Batman answers, crossing his arms.

“Well,” Danny sighs, defeated, “from past experience, there’s only so much I can take of him laughing. I’m funny, but I’m not that funny. You’d think he’d be able to tell the difference between a good joke and a mediocre one, except… looking at him, I guess not.”

Red Hood snorts and valiantly, very obviously, resists doing exactly what Danny suggests. Much like everyone else, from the looks of it. They could all do with punching Joker again. It’s almost therapy, at this point.

“Might be time to get those answers, GCPD ETA eight minutes at best,” Oracle interrupts. “Six more squad cars have been added, there've been two more calls from Danny’s building reporting gunshots and possible Joker activity. It’s going to get pretty noisy in there soon.”

Mercifully, the Joker doesn’t open his eyes, and they’re all spared his grating voice.

Batman wastes no time in turning back to Danny. They have under eight minutes, after all.

“You cursed him?”

“Sure did! Thought it would be a pretty good way of stopping him from revealing any identities—yours or any other vigilantes’. I stuck the beak from the bird in his throat and made it so that it’ll grow and grow if he tries anything, it’s poetic!” Danny grins at them all, and is Signal imagining it or are there fangs poking out of the corners of his mouth? It makes him look feral, but as soon as he blinks, they’re gone.

The six of them all look at each other, no one really quite sure how to respond to that. Ostensibly, it’s a problem solved, but… Batman’s not going to like it. 

So, predictably, Red Hood does. With a slap of his hands on his thighs and a wild look that matches Danny’s maybe-fangs, he stands up and begins to slow clap. “Amazing. Well done, bravo. I mean, I would have preferred a little more… lethality, but I’ve gotta say, it’s inspired. Thank you for the show.”

“You’re welcome. It was the least I could do.”

“What do you say, Bats?” Red Hood turns to Batman with a mirror of Danny’s grin, shit-eating and promising carnage. “You gonna thank the guy for saving our Signal?”

“Thank him? I should be questioning him, there are many—” 

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before the room explodes in noise, all of them talking over each other, yelling about how absurd it is.

“You can’t treat him as a threat, he’s not done anything wrong!”

“Batman, it’s my fault he was in this position in the first place, you can’t punish him for—”

“He was protecting himself against that maniac, why would—”

“You touch him and I’ll fucking kneecap you, just try it!”

“There’s no evidence of anything against him, what makes you think—”

“—absolutely ridiculous, it’s just like you to—”

“That’s not very hashtag girlboss of you, Batman.”

Popcorn peppers Batman’s chest as Spoiler makes her displeasure known.

Danny doesn’t say anything, just crosses his arms and fixes Batman with a flat, disappointed look that reminds Duke so much of Alfred that it gives him chills.

“This apartment is rented under a false identity and there are no records of you anywhere before this. You are either a magic user or a metahuman, or both, and you have no qualms about using your powers to beat someone senseless.” Batman doesn’t look away from Danny as he speaks, but he does raise his voice to be heard over the rabble.

Eventually, everyone peters out as the excitement of defending the guy that just beat up the Joker fades and the reality of the situation becomes clear, until only Batman can be heard.

“You recognised Red Hood as—there’s more to this that you’re not telling us and I will not thank you when the lives of my fellow vigilantes might still be in danger. Not when you know Signal’s identity. I know the Joker and we can take countermeasures for anything he pulls. I do not know you.”

Not even Red Hood can bring himself to protest now. Signal watches as his fists clench and unclench, his jaw working as his teeth grind in frustration. Honestly, Signal gets it. It’s the fucking worst when Batman’s right.

But, before Danny can say anything, a wet chuckle comes from the floor and the Joker shifts, his limbs uncurling inch by inch. His shoes squeak as they slip in the blood pooled beneath him, leaving long streaks on Danny’s new laminate flooring. It’s definitely going to stain, Signal thinks with a morbid fascination. That’s some shitty luck.

“You… Batman… You don’t know?” 

“Oh, great, sure, let’s let Jojo’s most bizarre adventure tell us about it,” Danny sighs, rolling his eyes, before brightening up with a grin. “Actually, this is great! You can see the curse at work and hopefully you’ll agree that I’m not a threat, this was all a good thing, and then you can leave. No offence.”

“None taken,” Nightwing cheerfully grins, finally shovelling Spoiler's popcorn into his mouth.

“I’d like to see if it works,” Signal says. His hands keep clenching and unclenching into fists and there’s a small, distant, part of him that’s glad that their uniforms have thick, armoured gloves. Biting your nails is a bad habit, and they're about all that's stopping him.

Joker takes no notice of them talking, the wet wheezing of his breaths stuttering in a weak excuse for a laugh as he finally gets his knees under him.

“I know… something you don’t… know,” he sings, the tune high and warbling. It has all of them wincing, and when he cackles it’s like nails on a chalkboard, always staring Batman straight in the eyes.

Danny crouches down before him and flicks his nose. Immediately, the Joker gasps and chokes on globs of bloody phlegm. They hit the floor with a thwack.

“Think long and hard about this, Jeffrey. Three chances. Remember that.”

Jeffrey? Signal’s almost impressed by how Danny can needle the Joker like that, so obviously getting under his skin. The way he talks back, it almost reminds him of the Robins and their constant need to snark.

Furious red blotches bleed underneath Joker’s white face paint and he gnashes his teeth to try and take a bite out of Danny’s fingers.

“That’s just nasty, come on, now. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you bird beaks.” Danny screws his face up and looks thoughtfully to the ceiling. “Pretty sure that’s how the saying goes.”

“Did you know, Batty…” Joker’s voice rattles in his ribcage, and everyone holds their breath as they wait to see if—how—Danny’s curse works. “That he’s just like me? He hates child heroes, too!”

“Hey, that’s taken out of context! I just don’t think that—” 

“Because he was one! Isn’t that great! Another hero come to play with me! You have a contender, Batman!” Joker cackles, leaning so far back with the force of it that he almost topples over.

“You what? That’s such bullshit, you little rat, I can’t believe you tattled on me to Batman! But also… how did you tattle on me? I…”

“You’re retired! You’re retired!” Joker shrieks in laughter. If Signal were a lesser man, he would cover his ears. As it is, he’s pretty sure the sound is going to haunt his nightmares from now on. “You’re retired, so I can say what I want!”

“Oh, Ancients,” Danny whispers, his voice hollow. “I’ve been Desiree’d. Foiled by my own poor wording. Rookie mistake. Batman, you’d probably know this, what actually is a petard? Because I feel like I’ve just been hoisted by my own one.”

Batman ignores him in favour of interrogating the Joker.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that it was my own lack of specification that led to this. If I’d just been clearer in the curse then—”

“Not you, the Joker. What do you mean he’s retired?”

“He was a child hero! A child hero… but a hero no longer.” Joker cackles, a rattling in his ribcage echoing the laughter. “He says he’s never going to give up Gotham. Another child hero turned rogue!”

“Bitch, you think this is me going rogue? Trust me, you would know it if I went rogue.”

“Is that a threat?” Batman’s attention snaps back to Danny, his voice dark and icy and Signal’s finding it a little hard to be indignant for Danny now. They shouldn’t be listening to the Joker, of course not, but…

“No! It’s a statement of fact!” Danny pauses, his face scrunching up in thought. “Okay, yeah, no, I’m hearing it now, that does sound like a threat. Pinky promise I’m not, though.”

So saying, he reaches his hand towards Batman, his little finger out-stretched. Just like with the handshake earlier, Batman simply stares down at him. Instead of offering it to Signal (would Signal have taken it again?), he moves his hand up and down as if in a promise with himself.

When no one seems amused at his antics, Danny’s smile dims and his shoulders droop.

“This is really not how I imagined my second day in Gotham to go, but I guess it’s about par for the course.” Danny sighs and runs his hands over his face, muttering something that Signal thinks sounds like how this was probably going to happen sooner or later. “Listen, Batman, as much as I am loath to admit it, Jingles the Jolly Laughing Leper here is telling the truth. I am retired. Not a rogue, though.”

Signal’s mind races, flying through all of the young heroes on the JL database. Batman is meticulous in his notes, but Signal… isn’t exactly meticulous in reading them. But he must be there, they must have a record of who he is and what he can do.

Danny looks older than Nightwing, but Signal can’t remember any of the heroes from his generation retiring early like this. He’s fairly sure that Nightwing was the first sidekick, too, right?

Just who is he?

“Was kinda hoping that Gotham could be a new start for me, you know? Put all of that shit behind me and—”

“What do you think turned him off the heroics, Batman?” Joker snickers, gnashing his teeth together like a rabid dog. His aura fluctuates horrifically, diseased green and purple rolling off him like foetid air. With his throat exposed now, Signal can see a small, white light shining like a torch in the centre. The beak? “He said he’s ruined people, just like he wants to ruin me with this thing. Just like I want to ruin all of you. I think he has more in common with me than he wants to admit.”

Danny huffs, crossing his arms. His leg rears back as if he’s going to kick him again, but obviously he decides against it and puts it back down. “The only thing I have in common with you is that I want to live in Gotham, and even that’s starting to lose its charm.”

“You want to ‘ruin’ people?” Batman growls, his hands slowly creeping towards his batarangs, sinking into a defensive stance. Everyone else does the same, Spoiler even going so far as to put down her half finished bowl of popcorn. “Who are you, really? What do you want with my city?”

“Really? You want me to just give up my hero identity, after all this?” He waves his hands around, taking in the situation.

“Once this is sorted, we could go somewhere more private—” Nightwing begins, hands raised in a placating gesture, trying to diffuse the situation like he always does.

“What is this, like a tit-for-tat situation? Grow up.”

“Leave him alone, B.” Red Hood moves to stand in front of Batman, getting in his face. His hands hover dangerously over his guns. Shit. Signal focuses on his ghost sense and speedruns the conversation, tensing in case he needs to step in. “For what he’s done to the Joker, he’s under my protection. You lay a finger on him and there’ll be hell to pay.”

“That’s sweet and all, Red Hood, but I really don’t need another Knight. I can look after myself. Appreciate the gesture though, and vice versa, too.” 

As he talks, Danny steps behind Joker who twists violently to keep him in his sights. Fear radiates off him in waves, his raucous laughter now bubbling into nervous giggles that pop out of him.

Signal sees it happen before it goes down.

One moment, Danny is standing there, smiling at Batman and the others as calm as he has been for the whole interaction, and the next his ghostly visage has the Joker’s throat gripped in one hand and his forehead pulled back in the other, teeth bared against his cheek. Is Danny planning on snapping the Joker’s neck?

More importantly, should Signal stop him?

The image of Joker’s lifeless body falls to the floor and Danny stands again, the glowing outline merging again with the way he’s standing in the present, back to talking with Batman. The mouths are out of sync and Signal has to drop his ghost sense when it starts making him dizzy.

“I don’t want to ruin people, Batman. On the contrary, just like you, I only want to protect. Unfortunately, sometimes that means making tough choices.”

Their eyes meet over the Joker’s twisting body and Danny smiles at him, so warm and comforting and understanding, that he realises no. 

He won’t. Signal won't stop Danny from killing the Joker.

Danny turns his attention back to Batman and gestures to himself.

“This is what happens when your secret identity is compromised. Yes, I’m using a false identity here, yes, there are no records of me anywhere. There are people out there that would stop at nothing to capture me, and… I can’t. I won’t survive that, not again.” 

Suddenly, Danny barks out a harsh laugh, the sound clashing with Joker’s stuttering, high-pitched chuckles. Spoiler reaches slowly behind her to grab at some more popcorn kernels. Honestly, Signal’s got to admire her dedication to the drama.

“I’m a walking cautionary tale, Batman, and I won’t see anyone else go through it. Especially child heroes.”

And then he makes his move. 

Danny latches onto the Joker’s neck just as Signal saw it, left hand gripping his throat tightly, right hand pulling his forehead back, Danny’s face against the Joker’s own. He’s whispering intently, but none of them can hear it over the Joker’s shrieking as he scrambles to free himself. Light bleeds out of Danny’s fingers, blinding white at Joker’s throat. Is Danny cursing him or killing him?

Only Batman moves, launching himself across the room with hands outstretched, but by the time he reaches Danny he’s already let go, stepped back, and left the Joker to fall to the ground as he clutches at his throat. 

Signal watches as his eyes roll back and his body loosens, fainting like some 18th century maiden after a fright. Jeez, just what did Danny do to him?

Privately, Signal’s glad that he made the same call as everyone else. He knows that for once it feels better than if he made the same choice as Batman.

“What did you do?” Batman growls, grabbing at Danny’s shirt and pushing him back against the arm of the couch. The momentum carries them forward, Danny tilting back precariously backwards and Batman towering over the top of him. It’s only by the grace of Danny’s shirt and Batman’s strength that he’s still upright.

Signal’s seen this death-defying intimidation tactic used plenty of times, but it’s generally over a long drop from a roof rather than someone’s couch.

Mind you, that's Signal’s old couch, and he knows how uncomfy it is.

“Calm down, I just amended the curse. I know, I know, it’s cheating! But, to be fair, fuck this guy and also fuck the rules. He can still play with you, if he wants, but a vigilante’s civilian life won’t be collateral damage for it.” Danny’s voice is breathless, his smile open and wide, as his hand comes up to grasp at Batman’s shoulder, trying to keep himself as upright as he can. “The identity of any vigilante, past, present, or future—regardless of their current status as hero or civilian—will be safe.” 

Batman doesn’t say anything, but Signal can see how his jaw clenches. He can only imagine what he must be thinking. He tightens his fist, Danny’s shirt curling upwards even more, and pulling Danny closer towards him. Signal can see the hint of scars criss-crossing along his exposed stomach.

“You know, if you keep me trussed up like this much longer, I’m going to have to ask the kids to leave.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees both Spoiler and Nightwing reaching for the remaining popcorn. Red Hood makes gagging sounds.

Batman drops him and Danny flounces back onto the couch with a laugh.

“Thanks. Although, I can’t say I wouldn’t mind doing that again sometime.” Danny says, as he stands up, brightening as another thought comes to him. “Oh, wait, another thing I fixed! I made it so that he can’t write it either, you won’t need to cut—hey, where’s Robin?” 

Danny swings around to look over the small apartment. The xiphos has been placed lovingly on one of the armchair’s cushions—the only one, Signal notes, without any blood splatters—and the door to Danny’s bedroom is open. 

Three guesses as to what Robin is trying to find in there.

Just as Batman opens his mouth to shout for Robin, a loud scraping sound peals through the door and Robin emerges, completely dwarfed by the new sword he’s carrying—dragging, really—towards them. 

Robin with a sword is always unsettling, but Robin with the biggest, brightest grin and a sword easily three times his size with literal actual teeth coming out of the blade, is downright terrifying.

“Nightwing!” Robin beams, the happiest that Signal has ever seen him. “I have a new request for a birthday present. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“So,” laughs Danny, his eyes crinkling around the edges, “you found the Zweihander.”

“Under the bed is no place to keep it, I had to move it if only to ensure you were treating it correctly.”

“Absolutely,” Danny says, his voice full of indulgence. The whiplash change from his predatory attack on the Joker, to the… whatever was happening with Batman that he absolutely doesn’t want to think about ever, and then to dealing with Robin with such kindness makes Signal’s head spin. “Not at all just because you wanted to look at it.”

“Of course not! Caring for your sword is paramount and it is disgraceful that you would keep it like that!” 

As Robin comes further into the room and the tip of the blade crosses the threshold of the door, Signal can’t help but wince. A deep gouge in the laminate follows behind the blade, squealing like fingernails on a chalkboard.

Danny just sighs when he sees it and turns to Batman, “You’re paying for that, too.”

Batman only grunts in response, but he moves away from Danny, so Signal has to count that as a win.

“Signal,” Red Robin’s begins, voice crackling through the comms. Immediately, he puts his hand to his ear and steps away from whatever’s brewing between Danny and Batman.

“Go.”

“They’re fine. 12 of Joker’s guys were waiting outside the hospital, presumably for his orders, but we got ‘em. Zip-tied and waiting for the police now.”

“Thanks, Red. You too, Orphan.”

“Of course,” says Orphan, her voice quiet. “Glad you’re okay, Signal.”

“Police ETA roughly two minutes. If you’ve all gotten a good look at Danny, I suggest you file out sharpish, unless you want to be stuck explaining everything to the cops.” Oracle, ever the voice of reason, says.

Spoiler snorts and raises her hand to her face to whisper discreetly that the real reason Oracle wants them all gone is so they can’t make “Cuff me” jokes about Danny’s crush on the newly dubbed “Commish Dish”.

They can hear the sirens now, faint and a few streets away still, but the discordant blaring echoes through the buildings. There’s always a huge turnout for suspected Joker attacks, Signal really doesn’t envy Danny with what he’s about to face.

Still, he’s sure GCPD will be grateful for the scene they find here. Peeling Joker up off the floor without any sort of gunfight or civilian casualties will probably be a highlight spoken about for years.

“I’ll stay,” Batman says, breaking whatever kind of staring contest he and Danny had going on. “Signal to the cave and the rest of you back on your normal patrols. Keep an eye out for any more of Joker’s people, who knows what else he had brewing for tonight.”

Danny nods in agreement, as if he’s the one giving orders. It still amazes Signal how he’s able to stand against Batman. Yes, Signal’s still new at this, but he can’t help but think that the awe, the respect that he has for Batman as a teacher—as his mentor—will always be there. He’ll always be looking up to Batman, striving to make him proud, but Danny…

Again, he’s reminded of Superman and how he can stand next to Batman as an equal.

It's the confidence that only experience brings, he realises now.

Signal can only hope he gets there, one day.

“You guys take the box and the card,” Danny says, gathering up the only evidence left that Duke Marlon Thomas was the intended target, and passing it to Nightwing. “This was a random Joker attack, no rhyme nor reason for it other than he’s a clown in every sense of the word. It’s not like he’ll be able to say why he was really here.”

Danny winks—winks again!—at Batman, and Signal's never been so glad for the masks obscuring their faces. He really doesn't need to see how Batman feels about all this, he's heard enough of the horror stories from the others about their tangles with Catwoman.

All their eyes swivel to Batman, who in turn stares at Danny, really sizing him up.

They have another little moment and Signal very valiantly refuses to use his ghost sense to see which way Batman will fall. He can already feel a headache forming.

Finally, Batman nods his approval.

"If you've lied to us in any way, if you plan to use the information you've found out here today to hurt any of my fellow vigilantes, or if you use your magic or meta abilities to harm a Gotham citizen, I will not hesitate. We'll be keeping an eye on you, Danny Nightingale, do not make me regret it."

"Woah. No lie, chills. Look!" Danny holds up his arm, pointing at the raised hairs. “Spooked the goose right out of me.”

Batman doesn’t say anything. Nightwing looks on gleefully, like he’s found his new favourite expression.

Danny gives up trying to get Batman to look, and instead rubs at the back of his neck. “I get it, B-man, you’re just protecting your guys and I can appreciate that. Not a huge fan of being under surveillance, like at all, but if that’s what it takes… Unless maybe you want to go out and get to know each other the normal way?”

One of Batman’s earliest lessons is that silence is one of your greatest tools. It’s amazing, Signal thinks, watching the master at work. The hardest fight today has been Signal trying to not roll his eyes.

“No, okay, that’s fine, can’t say I’ve ever been into the normal way either.”

The ensuing awkward silence is broken by the blaring of police sirens as they tear down their street, and the clunk of an empty bowl on the counter top.

“Lovely popcorn, thanks for the show!” Spoiler claps lightly as she makes her way over to the window. Danny’s answering grin is blindingly bright. “Honestly, great time.”

Taking it as their signal to leave, Red Hood has to have the last laugh and gives the Joker a good kick as soon as he gets close enough. 

“I wasn’t joking about you being under my protection, you know. You want to move, you’ll always be safe in Crime Alley.”

“Uh, thanks. I’ll see how it goes. And for what it’s worth, I wasn’t joking, either. You’re under my protection, too. ” 

As they pass each other, Signal swears he sees a flash of their auras. Something familiar reaches out from the other to connect in the middle, but when he blinks, it’s gone.

Red Hood gives him one last, long, unreadable look, before heading out of the window. Did he feel it? Signal will have to ask him later. “I’ll see you around, clown-killer.”

“Didn’t kill him!” Danny says, waving cheerfully.

Then it’s Nightwing’s turn. He hangs around awkwardly for a little while, waiting for Batman to make his way closer to the door and away from them, and he keeps his voice low.

“I know Batman won’t, so I’ll say it for him. Thank you, Danny, for looking out for Signal like this. He may act like he’s above it, but Batman really does care about us all and something like this is just about his worst nightmare.”

“Nah, I get it.” Danny laughs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Unknowns and all that. I’m just glad it was me and not someone else.”

“Retired or not, you’re a true hero. Thanks, Danny. Come on, Robin, put the sword down!”

With a clap of his hand on his shoulder, Nightwing turns and follows the rest out of the window with Robin sulking behind him, and now it’s Signal’s turn.

What’s he meant to say?

“Danny, I… Again, I’m really sorry for getting you involved in this mess, but, uh, thank you. I’m safe, my family’s safe, my parents are safe… I can actually sleep easy now, because of you. Thank you.”

No matter how many times he says it, it won’t ever be enough. One single, stupid mistake was all it had taken to almost ruin his life, but Danny changed that. There’s no way he can thank him enough.

Danny’s smiling at him, soft and warm.

“You’re new at this, right? That’s what I got from the note, at least.”

“Yeah, pretty new. Does it show?”

“You’re doing great, buddy, don’t worry about it!” he laughs. “All of the guys I was regularly fighting during my time knew who I was the second they met me, so you’re doing better than I was!”

“Is that what you meant when you said your identity was compromised?”

Because no offence to Danny, but that doesn’t sound anything like what Signal had imagined. What Danny said sounded bad.

“Nah, my guys were pretty cool. They understood the need to keep it secret from those that really mattered.” Danny smiles softly, lost in his memories. “Joker’s not gonna be like that though, hence why I did what I did. If he ever hurts you, if he ever comes after you or your family again, let me know, okay?”

Carefully, Signal doesn’t say anything. Batman’s eyes burn into the back of his head and he knows exactly what’s expected of him here.

“I never wanted to be a vigilante.” Danny continues, that same, soft look in his eyes. “I’m glad I did what I did, don’t get me wrong, but… I lost a lot of people because of it. It’s a heavy burden to bear.”

When Danny looks up, his eyes blaze a toxic neon green that bursts through the room, an explosion of power so vast that Signal staggers back and throws a hand up to shield his face. Surely, even Batman must see it!

“Is this something you want to do, Duke? Do you want to be Signal? Truly?”

Does he? 

To begin with, it was something he could do to avenge his parents, to pull Gotham out of the Robin War, to help Bruce, but now… He’s seen the good that Batman and the others have done in the city, and, more importantly, he’s seen what they protect the people from. Now, it’s more than his own personal vendetta, it’s something he can do to help everyone. He can protect them, he can uphold the good, he can provide justice.

He can help, just as well as the Bats can.

He can do it and so he will.

“Yes.” 

Slowly, surely, he stands up straight and turns to face Danny, squinting away the tears and afterimages burnt into his vision. 

“Yes, I do.”

Just as quickly as it appeared, Danny flips a switch, and the light is gone. His eyes fade back to their icy blue, and that’s it, it’s all normal. Like it never happened.

Signal closes his eyes, takes a deep breath to centre himself, and looks—really looks—at Danny, with all of his abilities, expecting him to have changed somehow, to be stronger, taller, floating, transformed—something—that hints at the power underneath, but… there he is. Still Danny, normal and human.

Just what the hell is he?

“Good. I’m glad.” He’s smiling again, as if nothing ever happened, only tensing slightly when he looks over Signal’s shoulders to find Batman still lurking. “Listen, if you ever need anything: some help, or to talk about shit with someone who knows what’s up, or even if you just need some space away from… all of it, then my door is always open for you. Or my window, if you prefer, just… Please don’t smash them.”

Danny turns around to find the rest of them still crouched on the fire escape, gawking at them both. Just how much had they seen of Danny’s display, or was it purely for Duke’s benefit?

“That goes for all of you, alright? I still want my match with you Robin, and Red Hood, you better fix my window or you’re going to find yourself haunted!”

The gang all grin, laugh, wave, and salute, as they all peel away from the apartment and begin their patrols proper. As charming as ever, Red Hood sticks his middle finger up instead before he goes.

Chuckling, Danny returns the gesture, and turns back towards Signal with an easy smile on his face.

There’s a squeal of tires and sirens as the police finally turn up.

“I mean it, you know. Don’t hesitate. I’ve been around the block a few times, I know what it’s like. Offer’s always open.”

“Thanks, Danny. For everything… I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, happy to help.” Danny’s smile turns soft, his eyes growing fond with no hint of the power that lies beneath them. “You’re gonna do great, kid.”

And Signal believes him.

Return to sender (dc x dp)

There was a box set right in front of his door. That was already pretty unusual, since Danny had just moved in, and and gotten done with boxes and he knew he hadn't had anything delivered here.

"Let's get you inside," Danny muttered as he got his key out of his pocket.

Unlocking the door, he picked it up and made his way in. He set the box down on the small kitchen table before grabbing a knife from the cabinet. He sat down and set to cutting the tape along the opening.

Peeling back the flaps, he took a peak at the contents only to be faced with a mound of yellow and black sparkly tissue paper, with a letter on top.

"What do we have here?" he muttered to himself, as he took the envelope out of the box.

Ripping it open, he got a small greeting card out. It had a yellow smiley face on it with the word "Smile!" printed above it. He flipped it open, and his eyes fixed on the printed text that said "Because today is your day!" Underneath it, written in chicken-scratch was written the following: "Looks like the bat has a new signal. At least mommy and daddy won't know how fast you replaced them!" it was signed with a simple J and yet another smiley face.

Danny frowned. "Weird."

Then, he peeled back the paper to find a taxidermied yellow-and-black bird Danny couldn't recognize, with its wings broken.

"This is definitely not mine," Danny said as he looked at the bird. Hopefully the real owner of this wasn't going to be too disappointed it had been this damaged in transit.

Danny took up the box to look at the delivery address, only to find that while this was for his apartment, the name of the receiver was marked as "Duke Marlon Thomas". It took one quick google search to find a phone number. Danny thanked whoever the sender was for including a middle name as it narrowed the search greatly. Dialling the number, Danny got up to get himself a glass of water. As he got the glass out, the line connected.

"Hello?" he heard a surprisingly young voice say. Well, assuming apparently made an ass of Danny. Maybe taxidermy really did appeal to all ages.

"Hi, my name's Danny. I think I got your package by accident."

"My package?" The guy on the other side asked, perplexdely.

"Yeah, a big box with a bird in it?" Danny answered. "Listen, man I'm sorry, I think the wings broke during transit, I swear it was already like that when I opened it-"

"What bird?" Now the guy sounded even more confused.

Well now, Danny was starting to get confused. "A taxidermied black-and-yellow bird?" Danny sounded out, then he grabbed the note and let his eyes go over it again. "There was a note too, I opened it, sorry about that." Danny winced, before trying for a joke to hopefully get the guy to soften up on him. "Whoever that J- friend is, he's got a weird sense of humour."

"J- friend?" the voice on the other side of the phone said. Guess, the joke hadn't gone over well, because his voice had gone tense.

"Yeah," Danny answered withholding a sigh, damn his curiosity. Opening other people' letters was not only a gross invasion of privacy but also a federal crime. Hopefully the guy wouldn't stay mad too long. "It was signed with the letter J and a smiley face."

"Whoever you are," said the guy, and the urgency in his voice had Danny straightening up. "You need to get out of here right now."

"What-?"

Just then, the door to Danny's apartment was blown open.

"I hope you're ready, birdie," a voice outside sounded, before a spindly man in a purple suit, green hair and sickly-looking skin walked in.

"Because you and me are going to have so much fun."

[zhongrin]

is it just me? i cant enter the in another reality chatroom :<

hmmm unfortunately i think so? ;;;; i tried just now and i can open it... try to use a different browser or a different device maybe?

[parfaitblogs]

fresh out the slammer ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid comes home from prison, and needs to fulfil everything he has missed about you. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut & comfort (18+ mdni) tags: post prison!reid. soft dom!spencer. teeth might rot i was cringing during some of this. established relationship. the briefest of breast play because what do i hate? the word nipple! fingering. p in v. no protection is mentioned but imagine what you will. casual nudity afterwards. spencer's got bruises from prison. i lowkey forgot about his thigh wound until the very end.  word count: 5.7k a/n: there's a completely different version of me in a world where i didn't write this. i hope she's doing well. i feel like i've been reborn. this is stupidly long LOL my apologies. pleaseee tell me if you liked this! or if you didn't! i love feedback! here's my monthly smut fic see you all in october!

Three months wasn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things. A quarter of a year usually went by too quickly for anybody's liking, the year sprinting through seasons until all twelve months were complete, and you were repeating it all over again. Usually. Three months without Spencer Reid, however, went by achingly slowly. And you hadn't originally considered just how agonising they could be. 

Each day was another painful mirror of the last, waking up and going to bed with the same sense of dread in your stomach, oftentimes swallowing you whole and leaving you unable to do just about anything at all. 

Living life without Spencer Reid was hard.

You saw him — of course you did. Despite his original efforts to keep you off the approved visitors list, Penelope Garcia had seen one glimpse of your heart shattered expression upon being told, and marched her way to the prison to slap sense into him. You weren't sure if that was metaphoric or not. 

However, seeing him once every other week and living with him were two very different situations. You hadn't realised just how much you had depended on him always being there when you woke up in the morning until you were waking up to cold bed sheets and a pillow clutched petulantly to your chest in hopes of recreating the warmth only Spencer could provide. 

And then he was free. 

From prison, that is. You hadn't heard it all — information about his time in prison had been kept from you in an attempt to protect your own peace of mind. But you knew from at least the bruises he was always sporting no matter when you went to visit him, that something awful had happened to him in there, and his own brain would keep him imprisoned for as long as it wished. 

But he was free.

And he was here, and you were staring up at his face littered with unkempt facial hair and a head of untreated curls, and regardless of everything horrific he had endured brewing behind his eyes, he was staring at you with the same softness he had before any of this happened. 

Despite the beginning of a protest when you wrapped your arms around his torso, you hugged him, and he hugged you, and even the faintest smell of grime and blood couldn't stop you from gripping onto him with so much force you thought your knuckles would break. 

"You're real," you whispered into his chest, muffled by it, and it shook beneath your face as he laughed, quietly. Beautifully.

"I am," he answered, and you could feel him crushing his own facial features into the top of your head, no doubt inhaling your shampoo. "You're real."

"Yes," you confirmed with a nod.

Maybe hours passed, perhaps only minutes. Whichever it was, you were still reluctant to pull away from him until he did, your face stained with tear streaks you don't remember shedding, his own eyes glassy as your gazes met. 

"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" you asked him, walking backwards as you led him out of the doorway you two had been finding solace in, and further into the apartment space you were ecstatic to share together again. 

"Not particularly," he answered, strides catching up to you and encasing your waist between his hands, tugging your body closer to his own. "Is that okay?"

"As long as you promise not to keep it in," you replied, teeth chewing into your lower lip in a contemplative habit. 

"I have counselling at work," he said, and you nodded, your facial features softening only a little — you knew him well enough to know he wouldn't enjoy said counselling sessions. Breath tickled your lips as he leaned in a little closer, inciting heat onto your cheeks. "Any other questions?"

"No," you replied, your own lips twitching in amusement. "That's it. Why?"

"Because I haven't kissed you in three months," he murmured, "and I want to."

"Maybe," you said with a hum, and he said your name chidingly, eliciting a laugh from you. "Yeah. Okay."

To be honest, you had spent a few too many nights allowing your thoughts to wander and end up dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him again. Whether or not either of you would have the patience to be gentle and kind to one another. In those nights, you had decided you would be. Your heart cracking every time you thought of Spencer alone in a concrete cell that it left you with a gaping hole in your chest. All you really wanted was to hold him and remind him how adored he was. 

Right now, you learned you wouldn't be. 

There was a tenderness in the way his hands found your cheeks to cup, and there was a softness in his fingertips against your skin. Yet, everything he kissed with was anything but. Feverish and quick, swallowing you whole and inspiring a spark in your chest that resulted in you kissing back just as hungry. 

Just when you thought there was nothing left to trigger within him, a squeak left your lips as the result of him tugging you impossibly closer, and he was beginning to walk you backwards, even further into the apartment, his kiss growing all consuming. 

"Spencer," you said, breathlessly, jerking your head back, staring at him, waiting for him to realise you weren't returning your lips to his, and his eyes opened. 

"What?" he asked, almost irritatedly. When he watched the slight flicker of hurt flash on your face at the tone, his own expression became gentler. "I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"

Immediately, you shook your head. "No. I just wanted to check how far you wanted to go," your hands travelled up to his hair, fingers scratching gently against his scalp. "I know there's a lot going on up here."

"Actually, right now it's just you," he said, tilting a head to the side to lean into one of your palms. "It's mostly you all the time. But right now you're consuming it."

"I make such an impact on your life," you quipped. 

"I know you're teasing, but you do," he replied, fingers tracing up and down either side of your jawline, eyes searching each small detail on your face he had no doubt already memorised. "I survived in there for you."

"Oh."

Probably not the most eloquent response for the things he had just confessed, but truly your brain had scrambled within an instant, and you weren't sure what to say.

"Sorry," he said, hands stilling on your face. "To answer your question, I don't know. I really missed you."

"I know," you said when a gaping silence followed his words. "We don't have to."

"I think I want to."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You can't think, Spence. You've gotta know."

"I've definitely said that to you before," he chided, thinking for a moment, before, "yes. I did. First time we had sex."

"Sue me for repeating important sexual advice to you, Spencer Reid," you huffed. He laughed. 

"No, I mean, I do. Want to," he finally replied. "I'm really scared of hurting you."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No."

"Then you won't," you reassured him, despite knowing whatever doubt he had in himself would not be resolved just like that, and it'll probably eat at his mind for a long while. "And even if you do, I won't be upset with you." When his face scrunched and his expression mirrored judgement, you stammered to clarify. "Not in a kinky way. Don't look at me like that, Spencer. Stop it. I just meant I'll understand. And I won't be mad."

"Didn't take you to be into masochism," he mumbled, and you groaned at his selective hearing, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, that shook with his laughter. "Kidding, honey. I know what you mean."

"Not funny."

"It was a little," he countered, a hand reaching up to entangle within your hair to pull your head back, gently, so he could look at you again. 

"Hi," you said when your eyes locked once more. 

"Hello," he answered, his lips pulling into a smile. "I'd like to kiss you again."

"You've used up your kiss for the day, actually," you replied, sweetly beaming up at him. 

"Quiet," he shot back, leaning forwards and allowing his lips to brush hesitantly against yours, eyes searching your own with an added hint of desperation. "Please?"

You pretended to think for a moment too long, because he was already mumbling something that sounded a little like 'brat', and pressed his mouth to yours once more. 

You couldn't complain. 

It was the same intensity as earlier, and yet there was something in it that differentiated the homesickness of the kiss from then, and the desperation now. Large hands — that you would probably allow to encase you whole — pathetically held your face lightly, hips knocking with yours as he walked you backwards and up against the back of the couch. 

"Spence," you whimpered embarrassingly, hands clawing at the sleeves of his suit jacket, trialling and failing at tugging it off his body. 

"I got you, sweet girl," he mumbled against your lips, not breaking the kiss for even a second as he helped you, shrugging the jacket off and allowing it to fall to the floor — something he will certainly chastise himself for later. 

"Bedroom," you said, in between heavy breaths and feverish kisses. A request he was more than happy to comply to, for he had nodded, and you were instantaneously tugging on one of his hands in the direction of the room, his eyes fixated on your body as he trailed behind. 

"Missed you so much," he murmured as he tugged you back towards him the second he had kicked the door shut, lips finding the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck, as he kissed down you. 

"So you've said," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as he gently nipped at the skin. 

"Do you get off on being mean to me?" he chided, lifting his head to look at you again, and your heart stuttered. 

"No. Just that dominance act that it brings out," you murmured, attempting to keep the mood light. Successfully so, for air huffed out of his nose as his lips twitched, fingers that had dropped to your waist squeezing it gently. In unresolved doubt, you added, "I missed you too. Don't worry."

"I'm not," he replied, and the weight lifted off your shoulders. "Lie down."

"So demanding," you teased, though his tone was anything but firm.

You were met with an unimpressed look, and you merely grinned back as you climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged atop it, staring up at him expectingly.

Instead of moving over you like you had expected, he crouched at the foot of the bed, holding his hands out on the mattress in front of you. Needing no more than the simple gesture, you untangled your legs and stretched them out in front of you, and he tugged you down towards the end of the bed, breath hitting the skin of your thighs deliciously. 

"I'm supposed to be making you feel good," you argued when his fingers trailed up the sides of your legs, finding the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"Why?" he questioned, halting his movements as he searched your face. 

"Because you're the one who just got out of prison," his face scrunched at the verbal reminder. "Sorry. But... yeah. I have thought about making you come the day you got home like daily."

"Oh have you?" his eyebrows shot up, and it was then that your brain caught up to your running mouth, and your cheeks heated up. 

"Nope. Forget I said anything."

"No," he pushed himself up from the floor, moving his body over yours on the bed, successfully forcing you to lie back. "Tell me those thoughts."

"Spencer," you moaned, shaking your head as you buried your face into your hands, that he was a little too quick to catch and pry away. 

"I'm not going to judge you," he said, amused. "In fact, I aspire to know every single thought there is up in that pretty head of yours. Especially the ones about me. Please tell me."

"I just thought about making you come. There's nothing more exciting to it."

"Yes, but how?" 

"My mouth, I guess," you mumbled, voice going impossibly quiet. "I don't know."

"You're acting like you have never given me oral," he said, catching your gaze within milliseconds of you averting it, thumb and forefinger straightening your head again. 

"Nobody says oral, Spencer. Say head," your own face now scrunched up. 

"Lots of people say oral," he defended. 

"Yeah, old people. We are not old people."

"Fine, you're acting like you have never given me head." 

Despite it being a jab at him to take the heat off of you, the phrase coming out from his lips sounded exceptionally vulgar for what it was, and it only resulted in your stomach flipping. 

Finally, you regained some control over your own thoughts, and you found it in you to reply. "That's what I want to do. Because I want to make you feel good."

"You underestimate how much I gain from making you feel good," he countered, fingers lazily caressing the skin of your jaw as his eyes studied your face with an intensity that had your stomach flipping. 

"It cannot be as good as an orgasm," you huffed, stubbornly so. 

He nipped at your nose. "It is."

"Can we compromise?" 

"So you don't want me to give you oral?" his eyebrows rose. 

In every other situation, you would not be fighting him on this. In fact, he would probably have already gotten his foreplay of teasing and teetering you on the edge out of the way by now, and you'd be well and truly content. However, the forefront of your mind was still plagued by how little time Spencer had to take care of himself, and the last thing you needed him to be was at your service. Despite his protests. 

"Head," you corrected. "And no."

He searched for remnants of a lie for a few beats longer, before he nodded his head, giving in. "What's your compromise, honey?"

"I don't think there's a sexy way to say to just put it in me," you said, and his lips curled up into an amused smile, followed by a huff of laughter. 

"No, I don't think there is," he agreed. "I do think anything you say can be sexy, though."

You pulled a face, and you shook your head. "No. Don't say that ever again either."

"I can't compliment you, I can't give you ora—head," he rattled off. "Is there anything good I get out of this?"

"You get to fuck me?" you batted your eyelashes up at him. 

"Such vulgar language," he chastised, ducking his head when a hand of yours rose to swat him. 

Despite himself, his head had dropped to the crook of your neck, and he had begun placing feather like kisses along the skin that distracted you just enough to drop your hand back to the mattress beneath you.

Any other day, and you'd probably still be bickering with him until the minute he made you come. However, three months without even the faintest of touches from him left you overwhelmed with everything he did to you, and so the gentle kisses trailing down to the collar of your shirt were enough to destroy any coherent thoughts you could have. 

Cautiously, and with a touch so delicate, Spencer lifted your — his — shirt up your abdomen, fingertips leaving behind the warmest of trails as they skimmed along your skin. One quiet whine from you was all it took for him to hurry his teasing along, and soon enough your shirt was discarded. 

A quiet, sharp inhale of air was the other sound aside from your quickened breathing, and you felt tears sting your vision as another kiss was placed just below your now exposed collarbone. 

The time without you seemed to weigh nothing in his mind as he took every inch of you in separately, lips mapping out your body like it was the first time all over again, though still knowing exactly when to pause and pay attention to for the sweetest of sounds to be ripped from your throat. 

He liked to hear you. 

Fingers found your waist as his lips kissed down your sternum, then back up and over until they reached your nipple. He spent time on each breast, ignoring your impatient whining as he neglected the rest of you for a few minutes too long (in your opinion).

"Spencer," you scolded, and it was all it took for him to accept you were not in the mood to wait, and for him to decide he wasn't either. 

"Sorry, honey," he replied, voice impossibly soft as he returned his lips to your face, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth as his fingers found your shorts again. "Can I take these off?"

"I think we're incredibly out of balance," you replied. And though there wasn't really anything wrong with the sentence — you had certainly said it before — he still pulled back, an unrecognisable grey clouding his eyes. "What?"

"I want to keep my shirt on," was his response, the words inciting confusion to your face. 

"What? Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

You wanted to scream that yes, he did. But did he? Wordlessly, you shook your head, but it didn't help the pang of worry in your chest. 

"Unless there's something like an embarrassing tattoo, I'm not going to judge you," you decided to say instead. "Did you get an embarrassing tattoo in prison?"

"No," he shook his head, and you were comforted by the amusement in his tone. "I didn't have the best time in prison."

"I know," you replied.

"And I wasn't very liked. By the men in there."

You knew that too, to an extent. You knew the bruises on his face weren't self inflicted. "You're liked by me."

"I know, sweet girl," a heart shatteringly sad smile stretched across his face as a hand lifted to your cheek. "It just isn't very pretty. And I don't want you to worry."

Well, now you were. Regardless, you nodded your head, turning your head to the side so you could kiss the palm of the hand on your face. "I won't worry, then."

"I want to keep my shirt on. Can that please be okay with you?" 

Silently, and after a debate inside your brain, you nodded your head. Gratefully, he pecked your lips once more, before his focus shifted back to you and your body. 

"Shorts. Can I take them off?" he asked, again.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

His fingers collected the fabric of your shorts' waistband, and gently pulled them down your legs, cool air washing over you despite the final leftover article of clothing on your body. You shivered, and you could hear him mumbling nearly incoherent apologies as he kissed your stomach.

"These too?" he then asked, eyes flickering between your face for confirmation, and the pair of underwear you still had residing on your body. You nodded your head, and he pulled them down too.

You do not remember a time ever fearing being naked beneath Spencer Reid's gaze, and that did not change even now, as an arguably different man drank in your entire body, the love he had for you not having wavered despite the passing of time. 

And you certainly did not fear the way one of his hands slid up your leg, seemingly soothingly, until it teetered on the edge of too far up the limb to be innocent, and he was intensely watching your face for every reaction you could possibly make. 

Achingly gently, his middle finger ran up the centre, collecting arousal you hadn't realised was there and knuckle gently bumping your clit, eliciting a quiet mewl from you. You watched him smile at the sound, dragging his finger back down, gathering more of your arousal until he was pushing the finger in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling oh so familiar, and yet seemingly foreign all at once. Too long, you decided then. Three months is too long.

Leaning back down, his lips brushed your jawline, the otherwise odd sensation of there being something — someone — inside of you balancing out with the pleasure that came from the comfort of it being him. And of course the delicate circles his thumb had begun to draw on your clit. 

"Did you do this while I was in prison?" he asked you, lips moving against your skin. 

"Touch myself?" 

"Mhm."

"Yeah," you said, voice breathless. "Was never good, though."

"No?" he asked, curling his finger inside of you and tugging a louder moan from your throat. "Why not?"

"Just never felt as nice. Not like you."

"Oh. I'm sorry, angel," he murmured, pulling his lips away so he could look at you again. Though, your eyes were still planted shut. "I'll make up for it then, yeah?"

You feverishly nodded your head, and he laughed. Fulfilling his promise, he sped up the motions of his finger and thumb, your hands grabbing ahold of fistfuls of the sheets, in hopes that it will provide some comfort from the overwhelming feeling of Spencer touching you again. 

"Can I add another finger?" he asked, and though slightly hesitant, you nodded your head. 

He waited a beat longer before fulfilling your request, and there was something obscene about how easily another finger entered you. Though, Spencer thought it was pretty, and your back arching was pretty, and yes, he had missed this and he had missed you and he was biting his tongue from telling you that all over again. 

"Spencer," a delicately breathy whine left your lips when the heel of his palm collided with your clit — thumb long forgotten once he had gotten distracted with thrusting fingers in and out of you. 

"Hm?"

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, the kindest smile on his face reminding you just how much he adored you, and your heart sporadically beat in your chest. When you didn't say anything else, he quickened his ministrations, eliciting more whines and moans.

"Is two orgasms too much for tonight?" he asked you, the question seemingly innocent regardless of both it's undertones, and what he was currently doing to you. 

In hindsight you should've probably said yes. It most certainly would've hurried things along to something he would enjoy as much as you. However, if Spencer Reid fingering you was a religion, you were an eternally loyal follower, and you would do anything to keep him there for as long as you could. 

So you shook your head, murmuring a quiet, "No. I can do two," and allowing him to fasten his fingers once more. 

Fingers found and massaged that spot inside of you he had probably engrained into his brain, and he was leaning down to swallow the loud moan that followed from the feeling. Practiced motions tore the same sounds from your throat as he repeatedly brushed up against it, until your eyes were forced to squeeze shut once more, and hands that were once seeking solace in the sheets, found his wrist and wrapped around it. 

"I can't move if you're going to keep my arm locked up, angel," he said when your nails dug into his wrist, lips smiling against your skin. 

A few short jerks of his hand convinced you to let go of the death grip you had on him, instead returning them to the mattress.

Then he was doing that motion again, and again, and you were silently praying he would never stop. Although, if your moans were any indication to where you were at — and they were — Spencer wouldn't. 

Your hips bucking told him more than he needed to know, and the absence of his body above you when he lay down on the bed next to you was long forgotten when a splayed hand on your abdomen pushed you back down into the mattress, your heart stuttering at the feeling. 

Gentle whines of his name, and a repeated mantra of 'please, please, please' was the only thing your otherwise dismantled brain could come up with, and Spencer was relishing in the knowledge that he was doing this to you. And though it is something he knows he's done before, it had been far too long since and the reminder was always welcome. 

"I know, sweet girl," he said against you when your eyes came open and searched his desperately, walls fluttering around his fingers indicating just how close you were. 

"Please don't stop."

"I won't," he confirmed, punctuating the promise with his thumb returning to your clit. He had your best interest in mind — you knew that. He now wouldn't stop even if you begged him to. 

Overwhelming seemed too insignificant of a word to describe what you felt like when you came, nerve endings all over your body sparking, instead of just the ones he was stimulating. 

His thumb rubbing circles and his fingers thrusting in and out of you didn't falter until your shaking body had stilled and your strings of moans had diminished, slowly coming to a stop and leaving your body — seemingly — as fast as they had entered. 

The content smile on your face was interrupted with Spencer's hand lifting to your lips, and instinctively you parted them, already knowing exactly what he was after. 

His middle and ring fingers entered your mouth, and your face scrunched up despite yourself as you tasted yourself on them. He laughed at that — of course he did — and pulled them out soon after. 

"You do that every time," he murmured, hair tickling your skin as he placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulder, up towards your neck. 

"It tastes weird," you argued, and his teeth nipping your skin told you he disagreed. Though, he wasn't in the mood to argue, for he didn't say anything else on the matter. 

"Still got it in you for one more?" he asked you, pulling his head back so he could see you once again. 

"Yes."

"Good."

Your eyes watched him even as he rolled back to take his pants off, and the awkward smile he gave you provided the inkling of comfort that there was still the man from three months prior in there. 

"I really missed you, you know?" This time it was you saying it, piercing the air as his hand came down between your thighs to part them. The head of his cock nudged against you, brushing delicately through your folds and eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips. 

"I know," he answered, pressing kisses on your shoulder once more. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine," you confirmed with a nod, confusion crossing your features all up until you learned why he was asking. 

A broken moan, choked and caught in your throat, left you when he painstakingly slowly pushed inside of you. There's not a lot going on inside your mind when he stops, your entire body aflame and equally desperate for more, as you were for him to take a moment here. 

"I love you," he breathed out, the words hurried and encouraging your heart to speed up, and your mind to melt even more. 

"I love you too," you said back, voice just as quiet, gently nudging hips ushering for him to move. 

"Impatient girl," he muttered, but you smiled nonetheless because he did (move). 

His thrusts were slow, and gentle, but you never truly minded how much time he took with you once you two were here. Even more so now, for you were on the same page as him, and you wanted to savour every single moment of this down to the second. 

A whimper left your lips, followed closely by the desperate whisper of his name, and lips that were still resting against your shoulder smiled. 

"I thought about this a lot," he said to you, his hand that was holding your thighs slightly open sliding up to find your clit. "I definitely shouldn't have."

"Why?" You knew why, but the thought of hearing him answer it aloud excited you a little. 

Unfortunately, he knew you better than that. "Don't play coy. You know why, honey."

"You're cruel," you huffed, and he laughed, rolling his hips to meet yours, earning another moan. "Maybe I don't."

"Use that wonderful imagination of yours, then," he answered, rubbing your clit at the same time as he moved his hips once more, effortlessly rendering you unable to respond to him again. 

A teenage boy probably could've lasted longer than the both of you, but you decided to blame it all on your already sensitive nerves from a prior orgasm, and the fact that Spencer Reid had not had you like this for over 2190 hours (not that he was counting).

Whimpers escaped your throat as he kept his hips thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace, while his fingers working on your clit did anything but. It was an aching juxtaposition that left you reeling for more, and Spencer was now the one shutting his eyes so he could hold onto some semblance of composure. 

"Spencer," you pleaded, and it was a quiet moan from behind you that told you he was exactly where you were. 

"I know, honey," he replied, the desperation in his voice jumpstarting your heart. "Need to come, yeah?"

"Mmhm," you nodded your head quickly, breathlessly moaning. "Please."

"You're going to. Don't worry. Don't need to beg, sweet girl."

Commingled moans and obscenely wet noises filled the air, and your hips stuttered as your stomach twisted into knots. 

Chanting his name like a prayer, you meet him wherever your two souls go in that moment, and it's a shuddering feeling as you come at the same time as him. For the first time in forever. 

His hand drops back to your thigh and he massages the muscles there gently, willing himself to stop before he crossed the line of overstimulation — not that you think you'd complain about that. 

There was an emptiness when he pulled out, but then he was kissing you again to make up for it, and you were smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. This time, without the fever. 

"How're you feeling?" he asked you, quietly. 

"Happy," you answered, forcing your heavy eyelids open when he pulled back. "How are you feeling?"

"Also happy," he agreed, and your heart soared. 

"Good."

"You need to go pee," he said, placing another kiss on your cheek, before he leaned his body away entirely. 

"Help?"

Arguably, you could do it yourself. Your limbs were tired, yes, and your mind was melting, but you were coherent enough to brave it alone. 

Thankfully, you didn't have to. 

He carried you to the bathroom, running the bath water after you had silently begged him for it with your eyes (looking between him and the empty bath with wide eyes and a jutted lip worked wonders), and leaving you to pee. 

"Are you getting in with me?" you asked him as wobbly legs akin to a fawn carried you over to the now full and steaming bathtub. 

"Do you want me to?"

Hesitantly, you nodded your head, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. "But you'd have to take your shirt off. So you don't have to."

He studied your face for a moment longer, before he nodded, and fingers expertly worked at unbuttoning down the shirt. 

"I'm okay now. That's the important thing you have to remember, okay?" his words provided little comfort, but you nodded your head regardless. 

You had a suspicion already of what sight you were going to be met with, but it didn't stop the guilt settling into your chest when the shirt fell to the floor anyways. 

"Spence," you murmured, taking a hesitant step forwards, heart falling to your stomach. 

Bruises littered the skin, some fresh and still purple, others nearly healed and yellowing. But there were so many, and it was then that you were swallowing the rest of him in with your eyes, catching the bandage on his thigh. 

"What is that?" you nodded towards the covered wound, and when your eyes returned to his face again, he was staring at you with an unreadable expression. 

"A lot happened," he answered, quietly, before repeating, "I'm okay now."

You nodded your head, tears stinging your vision for nothing more than your ridiculous amount of empathy. "Can you tell me about it?"

"I will," he promised. "Eventually. Just not now, okay? I haven't processed it all yet."

"Okay," you replied, and his heart shattered at the sight of a tear slipping down your face. 

"Hey," he took ahold of your hand and tugged you closer to him, fingers running through your hair and resting at the base of your scalp. "I promise, honey. I'm not going to disintegrate from a few bruises."

"It isn't just a few," you answered, voice wavering. "There's so many."

"You have a heart too big for your chest," he decided to say instead, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. "Most of them don't even hurt now. Please believe me when I say I'm okay."

"I'm trying," your voice is thick with a sob caught in your throat. "I think I'm just really tired."

"Yeah," he crooned, agreeing. "Your body's released a lot of prolactin, which encourages sleep. Alongside the endorphins and dopamine that you're crashing from upon seeing this."

Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and he kissed the tip of your nose in an attempt to comfort. 

"Bath, then we can sleep, and we can talk more in the morning," he listed off, and you merely nodded your head once more, sniffling and wiping your eyes. 

"Okay."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[ikeuverse]

my world | psh

pairing: sunghoon x fem!reader  genres: angst, smut, fluff wc: 14.3k+

꒰ 𝅄 warnings ꒱ : alcohol consumption, swearing, unprotected sex (do it safely), cumming inside, arguing, Sunghoon is completely surrendered to yn. sorry, i can't see him if not cute in this story, this man needs to be taken care of. lmk if i forgot anything else.

꒰ 𝅄 synopsis ꒱ : you're back and you owe Sunghoon an explanation for your departure, but it looks like it's going to be a bit tricky to get him to listen to you.

꒰ 𝅄 notes ꒱ : after so many requests i've come up with the second part, and possibly the final one because i can't think of a continuation after that. it took me a long time because i had a huge blockage and i don't know if i'm satisfied with what came out of here, but i just wanted to give these two a cosy feel. and for you who read my work. i hope you like it!

TAGLIST: this isn't necessarily a taglist, but i decided to tag the people who asked for part two of the story, so… @seunghancore @sunghoonizz @indigoez @heestarry @yunjinhuhjennifer @pollito-sims4 @srhnyx @enhalusional @moon368 @madustos @capri-cuntz @stellanam @flaminghotyourmom @jayshadoww @sovlidago @randommmmmmvheusbs @rjssierjrie @rikiversesworld @lovingvoidgoatee

꒰ 𝅄 part 1 | masterlist ꒱

Avoiding work on Friday nights was one of the first things Sunghoon did after you left. He didn't want to deal with the fact that that particular day was when he found you sitting at one of the tables in his bar with Stella, waiting for his and Jay's shift to finish so you could all drink together.

Now nothing else made sense, and those nights were filled with his bed, a cosy blanket and your mind wandering back to the last night you and he spent together. Sunghoon could feel the touch of your fingers on his skin, the way his name was whispered by you. It felt like an endless melody. Sleeping next to him had a different meaning after so long friendship.

But then the bitter taste of disappointment invaded him with the same intensity. Less than twenty-four hours after you told him you were in love, Sunghoon read the worst letter he could have read in his entire life. He had always wanted to travel and get to know countries, but suddenly he had a grudge against Switzerland because he knew that's where you were apparently staying. Why so far away? Why did you have to go somewhere with no explanation? A letter wasn't enough because it only said what he already knew: it had all been your father's plan. Sunghoon knew how much he controlled your life, but the thought of him causing it all made the boy's blood boil.

"Fuck everything" was what Sunghoon repeated most often every time he remembered something related to you.

How he remembered the first day he saw you at university, or how he heard you call him and greet him every time you met. He remembers every moment you were by his side, with your arms entwined or your head resting on his shoulder.

It was hard to forget every little moment when you and he almost kissed when you were drunk. Faces millimeters apart, heart racing and breathless… But then the day in your flat made it all worthwhile. While he was between your legs, kissing you with all the love he'd ever felt and fucking you on your kitchen worktop. Sunghoon could repeat that day a million times over, even though afterward you went and left him the next day. It was the one thing he didn't want to go through.

"You need to snap out of it, man" Jay threw himself on the sofa in Sunghoon's flat, sitting next to him on Saturday night. At times he was the only one who managed to make his friend feel a little better as they talked.

"How?" Sunghoon hugged the cushion, snuggling further into the sofa and staring at the television. He felt Jay's gaze on him as he listened to his friend talk again.

“I don't know, we—” Jay paused for a moment, sliding his body across the leather of the soft sofa and sighing loudly “How about we go out for a while? Just the boys.”

“I think I'd rather stay in my apartment for the next few years” Sunghoon replied.

Jay sighed again, reaching up and snatching the pillow from Sunghoon's lap. He scrambled up, wanting to take back the one thing he was hugging for comfort at the moment.

That's when he saw his friend's face in pure concern, but with something else that he couldn't decipher. Jay was serious most of the time, no one knew what he was feeling – apart from Stella – but Sunghoon knew his best friend so well that he could tell something was wrong.

“Jay” he called out, seeing that Jay was swallowing and straightening up on the sofa.

“Right, I can't lie” Jay closed his eyes ”I need to get you out of the house today and take you to a club on the other side of town.”

It was Sunghoon's turn to turn from curious to confused. What was Jay talking about, anyway? And why did he have to take him to the other side of town today? They worked in a bar, not quite a club, but pretty much the same thing: loud music, drinking and lots of people. Why go to a place that would be practically the same as his work environment?

“Why?” he asked Jay.

The older man was debating whether to say something so direct or simply make up an excuse to drag Sunghoon along. But Jay couldn't lie like he had said, it was almost impossible not to tell the truth to the eyes that stared at him so expectantly.

“Because Stella's taking Y/n there too” he said ”She's back, man.”

A ringing sound passed through Sunghoon's ears, as if the sound pierced his eardrums and he felt an extremely strong pressure in his head. Grateful to be sitting down and knowing that he would get this reaction, Jay was already getting him something to drink from the coffee table. Even though Sunghoon couldn't swallow anything or move, at least Jay was trying.

“Jay, stop fooling around.”

“I swear to God” he whined ”I found out today, Stella didn't want to tell me anything and just asked me to get you out of the house.”

“Why?” Sunghoon stared at a fixed point in the room, everything he was hearing seeming like a dream.

“I know as much as you do” Jay touched Sunghoon's shoulder, making him finally face his best friend ”It seems that only Stella and Alicia know that she's back, no one else. And a lot is going on that not even my girlfriend, Y/n's best friend, knows about.”

Sunghoon debated for a moment whether he should go to where Jay wanted to take him, because things were getting more and more confusing.

You went away and said goodbye in a letter, then you came back and only your two best friends know. At least about your return, because something is going on that even Stella doesn't know about, according to what Jay is saying. So… What was your father up to? That was the thought Sunghoon had as he forced his legs to get up from the sofa, resting his hands on the seat and standing in the middle of the room.

He didn't want to hope for anything at all, and he didn't know what your reaction would be, or even his own, seeing you so many months after your departure. Without exchanging a message, a single phone call. How would you see him afterwards? How would he treat you when he saw you face to face?

“I'm just going to take a shower” Sunghoon sighed ”I hope this doesn't go to shit, Jongseong.”

“Don't call me that” Jay pouted, which was ignored by Sunghoon as he headed for his room to shower and get ready.

Jay also hoped it wouldn't go to shit because no one knew what would happen. But he and Stella hoped that you and Sunghoon would at least talk.

If it weren't for the primal tension between your meeting with Sunghoon, Jay could easily say that he was the most nervous in that entire club. Firstly because his girlfriend trusted him enough to ask Sunghoon to leave the house, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get his best friend out so easily. So telling the truth had been the best course of action. That was why he was walking through the door of that club, the colored lights spinning back and forth and the loud sound almost piercing his insides.

He kept repeating to himself a mantra that things could go smoothly if Stella had already poured you and Alicia some drinks, while he walked in with Sunghoon and Jake. The latter was trying his best to get Sunghoon to walk around people and not turn around and go home. They both knew he could do this at any moment, so Jay led the way into the bar while keeping Sunghoon in the middle and Jake behind in case the other wanted to leave without being seen.

None of them could imagine what it was like for Sunghoon to deal with all of this, although Jay and Jake were just as curious to know what was behind everything that was happening.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon was going over in his mind what he would say to you when he saw you in the first place. Say hello and run off? Or just wave and smile as he went to the bar and got drunk? Maybe he'd do the latter – and the one that was most recommended – because he felt like he might pass out at any moment.

“Right” Jay stopped walking for a moment, turning around and almost slamming his body into Sunghoon, who stopped walking abruptly. But that didn't stop Jake from tripping and slamming into his friend, muttering curses and standing next to the taller man “Let's get a drink before we meet them.”

“I can hang around the bar and you two go find your girlfriends” Sunghoon wanted to get out of there right away and would try anything to make that happen.

“You come with us, wise guy” Jake took him by the shoulders and led him to the bar.

Ordering strong drinks wasn't a big deal for three people who owned a very trendy bar on the other side of town. This could even inspire new drinks at the establishment, Jay thought as he saw colorful liquids and completely different names on the menu. Something that pleased even the palates of the three who sat at the bar and drank three glasses in a row.

Every minute in that bar seemed like an eternity and the fact that Sunghoon didn't want to face the reality that, almost certainly, he was in the same environment as you after such a long time. It wasn't as if he knew how to act because even though he was your friend and had been hiding the fact that he was in love with you for years, he had never gone so long without seeing you. And even less had something so intimate happened that you left without giving any explanation.

“Stella's calling” Jay picked up his cell phone after a long time talking to Sunghoon and Jake, trying to find the courage to get out of there too and pretend that they were randomly in the same club.

He picked it up and chatted very quickly, neither of the other two paying any attention because they were apprehensive about what would happen next.

“Alicia texted me” Jake finished swallowing the drink in his glass ”They're bringing Y/n to the bar.”

“Is it now or never?” Jay tried to smile, knowing that it looked more like a grimace to the two in front of him.

Sunghoon didn't even dare move, leaning against the bar counter as he played with the glass between his fingers. He needed to occupy himself with something other than the fact that he was only a few minutes away from seeing you again. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his mouth and if it hadn't been for the alcohol warming his muscles, he could have sworn he was shaking right now.

“Hey, guys!” Stella's voice had a strange effect on Sunghoon, who cringed and closed his eyes tightly.

“Baby, you over here” Jay lied so badly, Sunghoon could laugh at that awful performance as he heard the kissing sounds of the couple greeting each other. Then it was Jake and Alicia's turn, the same greeting followed until his friends' voices ceased and he concentrated on the only thing that mattered at that moment.

“Y/n? You're back?” Jake was smiling, his tone a little more theatrical than Jay's. Sunghoon knew that he hadn't been the first to greet you because his best friend was so nervous that he could scream and run off with the other Park if it were possible.

“Jake, hey. Yes, I am!” you sounded excited, and cheerful and hadn't seen Sunghoon who was leaning back against the bar. He waved for the barman to fill his glass and as soon as he did, the liquid almost overflowed from the glass between his fingers.

“What are you doing here?” Alicia asked.

Sunghoon took the glass and brought it to his lips, the burning sensation going down his throat was the best in that second when he heard Jay answer.

“We came on a boys' night out. Me, Jake, and Sunghoon” he felt Jay's hand touch the middle of his back. Sunghoon almost spat out his drink out of nervousness, it was time to turn around.

Everything seemed to stop the second he laid eyes on you. Nothing seemed to have changed, except that you were even more beautiful. If that were possible. He pressed his fingers tightly against the body of the drink while keeping his gaze on yours, which, strangely, you held. Nothing on his face seemed to scream astonishment at seeing you there and Sunghoon couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. He swore he knew you well enough until a few months ago before you left. But after that, he didn't know who Y/n was standing in front of him at that moment.

“Sunghoon” you said his name so gracefully. He almost gave in to all the pressure and the nervous looks among the group of friends staring at the scene before them.

“Y/n” Sunghoon said in the same way, raising his glass and drinking the entire contents in one go.

He suddenly felt his eyes sting because the last time he'd seen you, he'd left your apartment swearing he'd see you at his bar the next night. When he could finally ask you to be his girl, as he had always dreamed. And now here you are, as someone who took his heart to Switzerland and came back without a single explanation.

He saw you open your mouth to say something as the two couples of friends disappeared to the bar to order drinks. Sunghoon swallowed, wanting to turn around and order more alcohol. It was the only thing that could keep him standing there without doing something ridiculous. But he knew that wasn't going to happen.

“We—”

“I need to go to the bathroom” he interrupted you and he didn't know why, or maybe he did, he just didn't want to feel like crying in front of you. Sunghoon had whined enough for months and the pride that engulfed him was enough for him not to do it in front of you.

Not when he'd already had too much to drink and certainly not when you were looking on with so many emotions at once.

Sunghoon hurried off towards the club toilets, stumbling a few times and apologizing to everyone he bumped into. He hadn't meant to do that, to look like a runaway and a lovesick idiot. But he knew he couldn't predict a reaction, not when he had no way of denying that his feelings for you had never gone away.

He wanted to have stopped feeling anything for you, wanted to have turned that hurt and sadness into anger, and moved on. But every time Sunghoon thought he could move on, you appeared in one of his dreams. Or Stella would comment on something nostalgic involving you, making him remember how much he loved you.

It could be a ploy by his friends to never forget you, or that your best friend somehow wanted to keep you in mind because she might know something. Sunghoon knew it was, but he also had no way of confronting Stella and asking her to tell him. He knew that you might have asked for secrecy and he wanted to respect that, but he couldn't help himself because it all came back at once. And that's why he ran to one of the bathroom cubicles and locked himself in, sitting on the toilet and taking a deep breath.

What he wanted most was for you to come back to him, but why was Sunghoon wishing he wasn't around you at that moment? Why so much conflict when all he had to do was get out of that bathroom and talk to you?

“Hey Hoon, it's me, Jake” the boy's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, making Sunghoon get up from the toilet and quickly open the door ”Are you okay?”

A moment of silence and Jake noticed Sunghoon's eyes shining brighter than usual. He knew it could happen and it was understandable why it had happened so quickly.

“You don't have to answer, it's okay, man” he said, slipping one of his arms around Sunghoon's shoulders “What do you say we get drunk until you forget your name?

“I'd love to, but—”

“But just think about the drink, at least she's back. We can think about that later, okay?”

He wanted to believe Jake's words and how they could comfort him, even if he was still nervous. So Sunghoon tried to smile, finding a little strength in the friend next to him who was slowly getting him out of the bathroom.

Doing what Jake had said that night might not be so bad. Drink a lot, talk and think later.

Sunghoon's last memory was of going to the bar with Jake and ordering three more drinks. After that, everything became a blur and now he had the biggest headache in years.

He was like a frat boy waking up the day after a party smelling of booze and with some random girl sleeping next to him. In contrast, Sunghoon smelled of soap, his pajamas were clean and no girl was next to him, but the messy bed indicated that he hadn't slept alone. Or so it seemed.

“What the fuck happened?” he muttered to himself as he groped around the bedside table for his cell phone or something, finding it practically dead.

Now the headache seemed a little worse as Sunghoon got up and sat on the bed, his back against the headboard as he sighed and tried to remember what had happened.

It couldn't be that bad or his friends would already be at the foot of the bed shaking Sunghoon and demanding explanations, so he could calm down a bit and slow down. To thought that things might not have gotten out of hand as he got out of bed and walked around the apartment looking for something that might remind him of the night before. But nothing was out of place, not even a sofa cushion.

He was alone in that place and there wasn't even a piece of clothing or accessory to make him think that someone might be there.

It was then that his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door handle. The key turning outside and the sound of bags on the other side of the door… Jake or Jay was bringing something to cure his hangover and it made Sunghoon breathe a sigh of relief to see that his friends were thinking of him.

But his smile fell when you walked through the door. Not that he didn't want to see you there, but of all the people Sunghoon imagined… You, wearing one of his T-shirts and the pants from the night before, bags hanging from your arms, and your hair loose, was the image he never thought he would see clearly.

“Y/n?” he asked, taking you by surprise when you entered the apartment.

“You're awake!” your smile almost made him shout, but he made do and ran towards you to help you with the bags, quickly picking them up and taking them to the kitchen.

The small silence in the room wasn't awkward, but you seemed a little apprehensive as Sunghoon looked at all the bags, hesitating to look in your direction.

“Feeling better?” you asked as you stopped next to him, opening one of the bags and taking out a packet of coffee and a carton of milk.

“Did you… Did you do any shopping?” he looked at the things you were unpacking, then finally looked at you.

What the fuck, why is she so close? He almost cried at the closeness when he saw you looking up, a shy little smile on your lips as you looked at him.

“I did” you replied ”You need to stock that cupboard and I thought you needed something to eat after last night.”

After last night. Right, how could he say he didn't remember anything, especially that you were in his apartment?

Sunghoon didn't know how to say something like that, especially since you seemed so casual in his kitchen as if you hadn't abandoned him months ago. As if you and he hadn't been apprehensive in each other's presence the night before.

But on the contrary, you seemed quite at ease taking food out of the bag and sorting it on the kitchen worktop. The almost familiar scene of the last time you and he had met, warmed his heart slightly and made Sunghoon feel his chest tighten. Fear and nostalgia washed over him as he watched you casually turn on the coffee machine after putting the supplies away. Every time your gaze crossed his, Sunghoon felt like shouting and asking what you were doing there. Perhaps the last part he could do.

“What are you doing here?” he asked after a long time without saying anything, just enjoying – even if fearfully – your presence in front of him.

“I brought you home after you nearly passed out in the bar last night” you smiled, even though your gaze was on the coffee machine and the sound of the liquid falling into one of the cups.

Sunghoon sighed heavily and leaned on the kitchen worktop, facing you and at a safe distance from the other side. If he were standing next to you, you knew you wouldn't be able to control yourself.

“And what happened?” he decided to ask, to be honest at least ”I don't remember anything…”

“I didn't think so” you laughed. A laugh so genuine that Sunghoon almost jumped over that counter to kiss you the way he wanted.

“So… tell me” he asked softly, almost in a whisper, but you heard him nonetheless.

Waiting for the first cup of coffee to be ready, you handed it to him while he prepared another for you. Sunghoon took it and drank the dark, bitter liquid, knowing that it could help with his hangover.

“Neither Jake nor Jay could get you to stop drinking yesterday” you began, your gaze following Sunghoon's every move as you watched him drink the hot, bitter coffee.

“And what did you do?” Sunghoon asked, apprehensive about the answer.

Suddenly a flush rose to his cheeks and he thought it might be the steam from the coffee you were preparing, but as soon as you looked away, he knew something else had happened.

“I thought on impulse and kissed you” you managed to grab the freshly prepared cup, causing Sunghoon to almost choke on his coffee.

Now he felt like a complete idiot because, after all this time, you had kissed him and he hadn't remembered?

“It was quick, enough to make you drop the glass” you said ”Then you asked me to bring you home because… Well…”

He ran his gaze all over your body, forcing himself to remember a little more of what was going on. Sunghoon doesn't remember the feeling of your lips on his again, but like a memory retrieval, he could visualize getting into your car together with you. The drive to his apartment and how you helped him undress so he could shower.

You hated that he slept smelling of booze since university… Why didn't Sunghoon think of that as soon as he woke up? Only you could make him clean himself up even when he was drunk.

“And then you asked me to sleep with you because…” your voice faltered a little, your gaze lowered to the liquid in your cup as you vividly remembered Sunghoon's words ”Because you didn't want me to escape again.”

Drunk or not, he didn't regret having said that to you. Sunghoon's only regret was not being sober enough to have enjoyed the time he had with you since you entered his apartment. But now that time could be rewarded as he left his cup on the counter and walked around to stand in front of you.

“I really meant that, Y/n” he said, smiling weakly when you also left your cup on the counter to turn to him.

You didn't have to be a genius to know that Sunghoon was leaning in the next second and capturing your lips in a slow kiss. Knowing the man in front of you well, you even thought it took him long enough to do it. Fighting his demons and fears of losing you again, but at the same time pushing it all away and concentrating only on having you in his arms again.

The way he grabbed you and sat you on his kitchen worktop, his hands sliding down your thighs – unfortunately – clad in the pants from the night before. As your lips moved against his, Sunghoon felt a spark in his body thinking that this could only be a dream. Because one night he was moaning yet again about you, being dragged out by Jay. While the next day he had you sitting on his bench, kissing him so lovingly as if you weren't the cause of the pain and fear he felt.

You were the first to break the kiss, gasping for air in your lungs from the euphoria of kissing Sunghoon after so long. He stood between your legs, foreheads pressed together as he felt your breath against his lips.

“Why did you leave?” he asked suddenly, his hands squeezing your legs without much force, but enough for you to know that he wasn't going to let you go.

You sighed once more, your lips brushing against his as your hands traveled the length of Sunghoon's arms until they reached his shoulders.

“My father,” you whispered, ”he wanted to control so much.”

“Like what?” Sunghoon lowered his face to the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent which seemed to calm him down a little. The feeling of comfort that settled over him when you sighed and pressed him against your body.

Sunghoon didn't want to leave, to stay with you forever in that position or your arms. He could forget everything that had happened and focus on the present moment while he relished the sensation of your hands against his skin or your skin against his lips. But not everything could be that simple, not when your phone interrupted the whole process.

The noise of the handset could have been ignored if it hadn't been so annoying to you. Apologizing to Sunghoon, you sneaked close enough to grab the handset from the other side of the worktop, still holding the boy between your legs as she alternated your gaze between him and the phone.

“Answer it” he whispered, smoothing your legs and trying not to kiss you while you answered.

As much as he wanted to do that, he wanted to hear you grumble while he kissed your neck or to hear you fight with him for making you make embarrassing sounds to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“Hi, Dad” well, maybe he really could do that then.

Sunghoon's lips slowly brushed against your chin, listening to you grumble as you spoke to your father. He already didn't like the older man, so it wouldn't hurt if you said Sunghoon's name out loud while he spread kisses all over your skin. Going down to your neck, tugging at the collar of his T-shirt – which you wore so beautifully – Sunghoon wanted to mark your skin.

“I… I didn't tell you I was back, I'm sorry” so not even your father knew about your return to the country? That was intriguing, it almost made him stop kissing your skin. But Sunghoon remained strong, convinced that he wouldn't stop until you said his name.

“No, I can't do that… Shit” you almost let out a moan when Sunghoon nibbled at the perfect spot on your neck, matching the exact moment when he pressed his hips against yours “Stop…” you whispered to him as you moved the device far enough away so that your father wouldn't hear.

“No” he smiled and sealed your lips, letting you go back to talking to your father.

“Dinner? But…” you faltered a little, trying to concentrate on the bullshit demands your father was trying to make of you. Without taking into account that you were going to Switzerland to try to get away from him and the way he tried to control your life, “I'm not going.”

“But we need to make arrangements for you to meet Owen, after all, his father and I still think you two should get married.”

It was careless of you to put the phone away just as your father raised his voice on the other end of the line, echoing loud enough for Sunghoon to hear. You could have waved it off, disconnected the call and pretended that nothing had happened, but you knew it was too late when you no longer felt Sunghoon's ringtone.

He moved away from you slowly, his eyes focused on your face as he tried to explain what he had just heard.

You didn't even manage to answer your father properly, disconnecting the call straight away and putting the phone somewhere else on the worktop.

“Sunghoon…”

“Getting married, then?” he took a few steps out from between your legs, but remained standing in front of you.

“I'm not getting married, I just—”

“When were you going to tell me?” Sunghoon asked, his tone wavering as he continued to stare at you “When the date is set?”

“I've already said I'm not getting married, Sunghoon. My father…”

“Did he set you up? Was he going to set you up with some business partner's son like in those shitty movies where you, rich, fall in love with a piece of shit like me, but are promised to someone full of money?”

Sunghoon never changed his tone of voice in all the years the two of you had known each other, it had been so different that you never imagined yourself in that scenario. Not even when you met him the night before, expecting him to yell at you and do something to hurt you. But no. Here you were again, hurting him as you had done.

“Sunghoon, I—”

“Please, go away” Sunghoon walked over to the sink, his hands resting on it and his body forward, staring at anything in the dishes that was interesting enough for him not to look at you.

“But—”

“I told you to leave, Y/n” the harsh, squeaky voice made your body cringe, you got off the counter and didn't dare approach him, even though you wanted to wrap your arms around him and tell him what was going on. You thought he would listen to you, but Sunghoon seemed adamant.

Your body couldn't move, although you needed to get out of there when your vision started to blur and you felt your chest tighten. Sunghoon didn't hear any movement from you, so he turned his head to find you standing there in his kitchen.

He was no longer ashamed to cry in front of you, nor did he think he'd be able to hide it when it all mixed and pooled in his eyes, trailing down his cheeks, not unlike you.

“Please, leave me alone. Please, Y/n.”

The pleading cut through your heart and you knew it was all because of you. Because you weren't able to say anything to him or even stop your father from saying all the shit he always said.

There was nothing left to do but leave Sunghoon's apartment, even though you wanted to stay. You knew that going back wouldn't be a good idea, but you didn't think you'd experience any of it either.

“You're staying with us tonight, aren't you?” Jay's voice was a little louder than the music playing in the bar. Sunghoon turned to his friend and smiled weakly, admiring his persistence in thinking he would stay there on a Friday night. Even though he knew there was a good chance you'd show up.

He still didn't know how he was feeling after what had happened, and he also avoided Stella's little requests – through Jay – for him to text you or come to your apartment. Sunghoon had no idea what to feel or think in that situation, making his mind work on various scenarios that he created himself.

Thinking that you could have gone to Switzerland with that man your father had mentioned on the phone, or worse, he thought about how long you had been promised to someone rich and disgusting who had been your old father's choice. While Sunghoon could barely provide you with a decent life. Not that you needed it, because he knew you had enough money to buy his bar if you wanted to. A decent life was all you didn't need from him. That's why maybe someone from your world, the way you lived, would be better. That's why your father seemed so convinced of this, without ruling out any possibility that you might already be with someone else.

Not that he was that other person, there hadn't even been time for Sunghoon to make a formal request or even say that you were his. There was no time at all.

“I'm going home” Sunghoon replied after getting lost in his thoughts, seeing Jay's worried look in his direction.

The tray carrying the empty glasses went straight into the sink, and Sunghoon washed and sanitized them properly before leaving them to drain and waiting for Jake or Heeseung to finish the job.

“Really?” Jay leaned against the opposite side of the sink from where Sunghoon still stood, looking at the people coming in and out of the small dance floor. They were drunk enough to wave to Jake, who was pouring them a drink at the moment.

“Really, I think I need a rest” in reality, he didn't need a rest, he was just avoiding meeting you there in case you went. And Jay knew that very well.

“Okay” he conceded, no longer wanting to push Sunghoon to say anything about it. He got up from where he was to walk over to his friend, ruffling the boy's dark, sweaty hair in front of him “Anything, call me, okay? I'm not drinking tonight because Stella and Alicia will probably want to leave here loaded,” he said, making Sunghoon laugh ”So I'll be chauffeuring you all night. Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

“And neither will I” Jake appeared next to Jay ”I drove here today and I can drop Alicia off at home if you need us at your apartment…”

“Boys' night?” Sunghoon joked.

“Come on, it's only desolate, sad girls who can do that?” Jake pouted and picked up a clean glass, grimacing at his two friends as he walked away to serve another group of people who had leaned over the bar.

Sunghoon felt terrible to see his friends' efforts to make him well, even if he didn't want to be sinking like that into something that was only hurting. He wished he could stay at the bar or even accept the boys' invitation to do something, but all he wanted was to be home. Maybe cry some more – out of resentment or anger – and drink whatever was in the fridge, then fall asleep until the next morning.

And that's what he did when he got to his apartment, at least the drinking part. He took off his shoes and coat, then went to the fridge and got three cans of beer. He sat down on the sofa and opened them one by one while thinking about his life recently.

He knew that sleep would be a long time coming because with every sip of beer, he wondered why all this was happening. Sunghoon had seen movies with this theme before, he had even heard of a book that Stella read about a rich guy who fell in love with a girl who wasn't rich. The only difference was that his story with you was the complete opposite. Sunghoon wasn't rich at all.

Laughing at life's misfortunes, he finished his third beer and risked opening the bottle of wine that Jake had bought and left at his friend's apartment for the next time they were all together. Perhaps he wouldn't mind if Sunghoon drank it all, because the occasion called for a little more alcohol and until the next meeting between friends, he would certainly buy Jake another bottle. And if it was for the heartbreak reason, which it really was, he knew his friend would forgive him for taking it all himself.

“I don't think that's going to be enough” Sunghoon muttered to himself as he opened the bottle and took the first sip of wine, the strange mixture of the previous taste of beer and the smooth grapes of the current drink. He had mixed a lot of things before, but this one was strange. Not that it mattered at the moment, Sunghoon just wanted to finish that bottle.

To feel nothing but sleep or for all that sensation to fade from his body, at least for a little while. Just long enough for him to recover enough so that, when he saw you again, he wouldn't act like an idiot in love. Even though you might be in the arms of someone other than him. Even if you were going to share a life with someone other than him. Sunghoon thought he was too late in proposing to you because he had wasted so much time without saying anything.

From the moment he met you at university until years after his courses ended, he was only able to talk about his feelings because you did it first. And even then you tore it all away from him in a matter of a short time. But even though it happened, if he had told you he loved you even before all that, Sunghoon could have enjoyed a little time being yours and you being his. In his arms.

And not that empty bottle of wine he was holding, hoping it would be you there.

Sunghoon usually woke up from his nap with his cell phone ringing in the early hours of Friday morning. Jake or Jay calls and he refuses to go to the bar to finish the drinks so that everyone would go home drunk. But now his nap had been interrupted by frantic knocks on the door.

The first thing he did was glance at the clock hanging on the opposite wall, showing that he had been asleep for less than twenty minutes. The empty bottle of wine was neatly placed on the coffee table in the living room and he had closed his eyes while still sitting on the sofa, without bothering to lie down or go to the bedroom.

The knocks continued and Sunghoon began to get anxious because the rapidity with which the noises were made against the door indicated that whoever was there was in a hurry. And maybe his friends needed him because something might have happened. Jay and Jake weren't drunk, as they had said in the bar before he left… So what could it be? He didn't want to think about anything else and ran the few steps from the sofa to the door, taking a long breath before opening it.

His hand trembled slightly against the handle as he turned it slowly and, with his other hand, Sunghoon unlocked the door.

He could have seen it through the peephole before opening it because the look of astonishment on your face when you stood in front of his apartment door wasn't something you could have rehearsed. You could see that Sunghoon wasn't expecting it and, strangely, you didn't care whether he liked it or not. It was as if you had already predicted that his reaction would be total astonishment.

Sunghoon couldn't say anything, amazed and even a little stunned by your presence there. Stopping to analyze the whole situation, your clothes were quite different from the ones you usually wore. No social attire, elegant clothes, or high heels. Instead, you were wearing jeans, a button-down shirt three times your size, and a completely messy ponytail. Your breathing was so ragged that you could only take deep breaths while looking at him.

“Y/n?” Sunghoon practically whispered as he stared at you trying to take it all in. Afraid he'd say your name a little louder and it was just a drunken dream he was having.

To his surprise, you just nodded and took a step forward, still panting as you walked far enough into his apartment. Facing him squarely.

Already preparing yourself for the question he would ask, such as “what are you doing here?” or whatever, you tried to act on your feelings and prayed that he wouldn't interrupt you this time. The speed with which your lips touched his even shocked you because you didn't think you'd have such good aim just by lifting your own feet high enough to reach where you most wanted to touch him at that second.

Processing the event while still half-drowsy, Sunghoon smacked his lips to yours and then pulled away. Inches away from your face just to try to assimilate that you had just kissed him, and when you grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him against you again, he let himself go.

It wasn't as if he was going to stop you from kissing him, even though he had mixed feelings. But neither was he going to deny that he was kissing the woman he loved so much.

He was the first to give the go-ahead to deepen the kiss, opening his lips to receive your tongue and feeling you press your fingers into his shirt. When your tongue tangled with Sunghoon's, he put his hand around your waist to press you against him. His free hand closed the door in the same second to push your back against the cold wood and trap you between it and the tall, slender body in front of you.

In a contest of longing and need, your tongue and his played in sync as you felt Sunghoon's hand slide under the fabric of your shirt. Touching your skin and almost sending a shock through your whole body when he ran his short nails along your hip. A screaming need to feel him in every corner of your body, you craved it as much as he did and tried to show it as you kissed him even more.

Even though it was an almost impossible mission to say everything you felt for Sunghoon because it was beyond words and all you wanted was to make him understand you. That he would listen to you because surely his thoughts about everything that was happening were completely wrong. You wanted to prove it to him. And maybe you were on the right track.

When Sunghoon ran both hands down your hips, to your ass, and down to your thighs, the two slaps there were enough for you to understand that he wanted you in his arms. On his lap. And you didn't hesitate to jump up and wrap your legs around his body when he picked you up.

“Take me to your room” you smiled against his lips, slowly sliding down when you both needed some air, going to Sunghoon's ear “We need to talk.”

“About what?” Sunghoon's breathy voice was so attractive and exciting, that you could swear you almost moaned just from the memories it brought back.

“About us” you felt Sunghoon's arms squeeze your body in his lap, but at no time did the boy show any resistance as he pulled you away from the door to take you to his room.

The whole way was done in silence, feeling his gaze on you almost the whole way, except when he paid a little more attention so that he didn't hurt you or stumble by mistake. Even more so when your lips did a great job against his cheek, going down to his jaw and neck. It bought you time between Sunghoon's slow steps and the time it took you to think about how to start that conversation once you got to his room.

Why, what would you start by saying? And how would you start? Because telling Stella, Jay, and Jake had been easy. Smooth, even, with the possibility of your friends judging you. But because it was Sunghoon, the main character in all of this, things seemed to be even more complicated.

Your thoughts were interrupted when the two of you reached his room, Sunghoon slowly standing you up as he passed the door and closed it. His eyes glazed over your figure as he waited for your next move. His mind would have to work a million different ways now. Afraid that he would kick you out of the apartment once again or not listen to you explain while you had a lot to say, something crossed your mind and you prayed that it would work out. Not least because you'd need to concentrate on every word while you did everything you wanted to do.

One of your hands went to Sunghoon's abdomen, slowly moving up to his chest and giving it a gentle push. It was nothing compared to her strength and his size, at most moving the boy's body a centimeter in front of you. Enough for him to take a slow step backward.

“Sit down” you instructed softly, slowly pushing him towards his bed. You tried your best to make your voice sound calm as you watched him nod and walk backward to the bed, sitting down and leaning against the headboard. Your smile slowly followed his, but Sunghoon held his breath as you climbed onto the bed to sit on his lap, both hands resting on his broad shoulders.

“What are you doing? Weren't we going to talk?” he asked, his voice shaky and wavering as he felt your weight on his lap. Sunghoon frowned, not because he hated having you on his lap, on the contrary, but it had never crossed his mind to have a conversation in that position.

“We will” you leaned your forehead against his ”But I'm afraid you won't let me talk, so I thought I'd do something.”

“What thing?” Sunghoon asked when he felt your breath against his face, your warm breath against his freshly kissed and still reddened lips. You smiled, but he couldn't capture the moment because he had just closed his eyes to revel in every little sensation you gave his body.

Sunghoon had completely forgotten the old feeling that he didn't want to see you anymore, that he was avoiding you at all costs. He forgot everything the moment he felt your lips on his when you arrived at the apartment, and now, feeling you holding his face between your hands. Your little fingers caressing his skin – which would have been stained with tears tonight if you hadn't been here – and trailing around his jaw to his lower lip. You didn't respond immediately, nor did he complain when he felt you kissing him again.

It was like being addicted to something and needing it to live, regardless of whether he deserved it or not. Sunghoon knew he wouldn't be able to go on without kissing you and without having you. He didn't want to think about a world in which you wouldn't be with him as you are right now. Sunghoon just wanted to feel your tongue entwining with his slowly, urgently, and intensely. Your heavy breathing against his mouth almost drove him crazy, not least when you were rocking against his lap.

It was too much torture to feel you like that, the clothes getting in the way as you slowly rolled over in his lap. His cock, once semi-hard, was now hard enough to rub against your jeans and the pants he was wearing, creating the perfect friction for both of you.

“Fuck” he moaned against your mouth, stifling another moan when he felt your nails against his shoulders. Sunghoon wasn't going to question whether that was an effective method of conversation, but if you wanted to start like that, he wasn't going to stop you.

He ran his big hands down your shirt, finding your ass very well synchronized in slowly rolling over, at the same intensity as your tongue played with his. It was as if you wanted to make him feel the same movements inside your mouth and on top of your lap, as your clothed pussy rubbed against his cock.

“Sunghoon” you moaned his name, an extremely low blow. This made Sunghoon's fingers squeeze each side of your buttocks, stopping your hip movements.

“Do you…” he sighed, his heartbeat accelerating as you pulled your mouth away from his ”Do you want to talk like this?”

He looked like a lost, needy little animal, his big eyes staring at you and his chest rising and falling in gasping breaths. Such a beautiful sight that you missed it, and having it again was something you didn't want to miss.

Releasing Sunghoon's hands from your ass, you intertwined your fingers with his and left them next to your body, on the side of your thighs. If your expression wasn't so passionate, he could have sworn it was some kind of tease as you moved back against his lap.

“I want you to pay attention only to what I say” you whispered, squeezing his fingers and letting out a low moan as your clit rubbed exactly against his jeans and the head of his cock at that moment. That was all you needed “Can you do that for me?”

There was a minute's silence as Sunghoon pondered this because he couldn't concentrate on anything other than the movements you were making. It would be difficult to focus on your words while what he wanted most at that moment was to be inside you.

“I'll try” he managed to say before he felt you slip out of his lap.

The loss of contact made Sunghoon a little dizzy because he felt his cock ache, that friction was all he needed, but losing it suddenly made him feel weak. He looked at where you were, standing next to his bed as you unbuttoned your jeans and left only your big shirt. It was a punishment that it was that big and covered half your thighs… Why couldn't you wear one of the shirts you normally wore? They were small enough to go halfway down the buttons of the pants you wore, and not nearly as dressy as that one. He also didn't think about why you were undressing, let alone why you had gone back between his legs and now it was your fingers' turn to open the buttons on Sunghoon's pants.

“Y/n, what—” he tilted his head back and leaned against the headboard, his eyes closing and his breathing completely heavy as you lowered the fabric of his pants enough to free his cock from the tightness of his jeans and hold it over the fabric of the briefs he was wearing ”Fuck, you…”

“I want you to understand that whatever I say is true” your thumb perfectly drew the line of his cock head covered in pre-cum that had already soaked through his underwear. Sunghoon moaned loudly at the touch and squirmed to try to get your hand away, feeling the slight slap you gave him before looking him in the eye.

Eye contact alone could make him come right there, without any further ministrations from you. Sunghoon could free himself in his boxers as he felt you draw circles on the head of his cock, but it couldn't be that easy. You weren't going to provoke him because he didn't deserve that at all. He deserved to be taken care of, to listen carefully to what you had to say, and, perhaps, to understand every word. He just prayed that everything would be said clearly, even if he was struggling against your touches to pay attention to the words.

You knew that the body language between the two of you was a great connection because when your fingers slid into the waistband of his pants, Sunghoon didn't even think to help you remove the fabric along with the underwear he was wearing, his cock being released in a mixture of relief and pain, slapping against the belly covered by the T-shirt he was still wearing. The garments went halfway down his thighs before he saw you move far enough away for him to pull them off and throw them on the floor beside the bed. Now with his lower half completely bare to you, exposed like that, Sunghoon knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything. Not with you kneeling between his legs again.

“I want you to believe me, Sunghoon” you whispered as you leaned in, your face close enough to his to say it, ”Do you?”

He was quiet at that moment, just staring at you and hoping that something would formulate in the back of his mind. Sunghoon would believe… But in what? What, exactly, would he have to believe? What would you say would have to be done just for him to believe? Sunghoon's mind wasn't working very well at that moment, he seemed lost and excited and just agreeing was enough for you to continue whatever you were doing. He would only accept at that moment, fighting against any greater urge before actually listening to you. Or feel you, because he didn't know what you would do first.

Watching your slow movements as you slid between his legs, your face lowering just enough to get close to his cock and your mouth touching the head smeared with pre-cum.

“Fuck you” he muttered almost as a roar of relief when he felt your hot mouth suck the tip of his cock. The pop when you released it made Sunghoon moan low and almost cry from the contact.

Your hand firmly gripped the base of his cock, the narrow veins running along the length that filled you so well last time. You made eye contact with him the second your mouth returned to spilling the mushroom, the tip of your tongue making the perfect circle before your lips slowly slid down his cock.

“Shit, Y/n” he moaned. The sensation of having his cock swallowed by your warm, soft lips was divine. Your tongue felt his vein fissures and your throat accommodating the glans when you reached the bottom. You slid his cock out once more, but without taking it out completely as you did the first time, establishing a rhythm so slow that Sunghoon might have thought he was being tortured.

The torture in your eyes fixed on his, with your mouth full of his cock as you moved your head up and down in a rhythm that you set yourself to suck it. Sunghoon knew – and anyone else in those conditions – that it would be impossible for you to say anything at that moment, so delighting in your mouth around his cock was the perfect moment. Sunghoon wrapped his already-tangled hair between his fingers, taking advantage of the ponytail hairstyle he'd done before so that he could hold onto you with one hand and the other wrapped around your jaw.

“You're doing so good, babe” Sunghoon said, his thumb caressing your cheek and spreading a little of your saliva that fell each time you took his cock deeper into your mouth until it touched your throat. He moaned your name every time you proved that your vomit reflex was in perfect condition. You took him so deep that Sunghoon knew he could come right there, in the warmth of your lips as he felt you speed up your movements.

He pressed his thumb against your jaw as you moved your mouth up and down his cock faster, your gaze never leaving Sunghoon's fucked face above you. Your name was said with each heavy breath and the moans he let out were like the most beautiful melody you could have heard in your life.

“I'm going to… Y/n, please…” Sunghoon didn't want to come so quickly, he didn't want to look so weak for a blowjob as well done as yours. And it seems that you didn't want him to come so soon either, because your mouth began to move slowly down his cock until it stopped completely. Your tongue makes the same circle around the head of his cock until you let go, again, with a pop.

How pornographic that sound could be when accompanied by Sunghoon's hoarse moan at the same moment. You knew your panties were wet enough just from the sounds and feel of his cock inside your mouth, but you didn't care anymore. Not when you also had to concentrate because your words weren't finished. You had a few more things to say to him. Before returning to Sunghoon's lap, you discarded your sticky, wet panties, almost in the same spot next to the bed where his clothes were, and it was only at that moment that you returned to your old spot – his lap.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he was visibly stunned and you secretly liked that effect, the hint that he didn't want to see you had finally disappeared and now the faint smile Sunghoon was giving you was the perfect indication that he had your undivided attention.

“In a good way?” you asked, your tone low and your hips hovering in the air so as not to touch your naked pussy to his cock just yet.

“In the best of ways” he said, tilting his head towards yours to capture your lips this time.

It was Sunghoon's turn to start the kiss a little less slowly than the two of you had shared so far. His hands held your face on either side and he could feel your jaw moving during the kiss as his thumbs made the perfect line to your chin. And you knew that this would be the perfect moment since Sunghoon's hands were busy holding your face, he wouldn't stop you.

You slid your hand between the two bodies and gripped his cock, taking advantage of the fact that your saliva would be the perfect combination of lubrication with how wet your pussy was. Then you simply slid the head of his cock between your folds, opting to tease him another time, and slid it in far enough until it found its entrance. It didn't take you long to slide his cock in effortlessly.

“Fuck, shit. I—” Sunghoon didn't have time to reason or even say anything to you when his cock was already completely inside your pussy. He wouldn't deny something like that, he wouldn't stop you, but feeling your pussy swallow his cock without any warning was one of the most delicious sensations he'd ever felt.

Sunghoon's hands left your face to grip your hips before you could start any movement. He didn't want to teach you anything, he wanted to let you guide yourself as you felt most comfortable, but he needed to feel the way you moved as well as have his cock inside you. So when you raised your hips for the first time and then lowered yourself in a not-so-slow movement, he tightened his fingers on your hips in response, moaning your name.

“Sunghoon” you moaned, but you wanted to call him out as you put your idea into action. He just grunted as he felt you move again on his lap, your pussy swallowing his cock so well that it was hard to say anything “I want you to unbutton my shirt while I talk to you…”

“Fuck, no” he moaned as you went down on his cock again, a little faster this time.

He didn't want to deny it, but it was hard to concentrate. So Sunghoon knew he had to be guided, and you knew you had to do it when you took his hands and led them to the first button of your shirt.

“Just concentrate on that and my words.”

He wanted to ask if this was how you behaved when you were the boss of the company or when you had to deal with someone from your work or even your father. The authoritative yet cautious way you spoke to him made his cock twitch inside you. And he wondered how it was possible for you to keep your tone while resting your hands on his shoulder and forcing your legs up and down on his cock.

Sunghoon leaned his head back against the headboard, the moans becoming frequent and released without any pause. The sound of slapping skin as you began to hump faster, his pelvis meeting yours, and the wet, squishing sound of your pussy every time you swallowed him. His fingers were trembling as he managed to unbutton the first button, moving down to the second and losing himself for a moment when the walls of your pussy squeezed him tight.

“I'm not going to make it with you… squeezing me like that…”

“You can do it, Hoonie” he could have easily turned you against that mattress and fucked you so hard with his hooded provocations and authoritarian requests in that situation. But he didn't have the strength, let alone the courage, to disobey your requests while you slowed down your movements because you knew it was hard for him. Sunghoon managed to unbutton the second button and went down to the next one, his eyes slowly opening to look at you.

Your smile was angelic even in the position he was in and the way you were rubbing up against him. Now, going back and forth with your clit deliciously rubbing against his pelvis and, when you moved a little more, you could rub against his cock covered in all your essence before getting just the tip inside your hole and sliding it into you again. He didn't want to ask where you'd learned it or if you'd even practiced, maybe Sunghoon was lucky enough to have been the first to feel it because you were so horny that you tried out the wildest fantasies in your mind. And that's exactly what it was, but you'd never tell him.

“Sunghoon” you called him again when your rolls and movements became less intense. You still kept them up but in a more sensual way. You wanted to emphasize your words and let him finish the buttons on your shirt. He looked you in the eye, the shine in that gaze and the intense way in which Sunghoon stared at you was the certainty of everything you felt. You leaned forward, your slightly sweaty forehead touching his and your panting breaths mingling with each other “You're the only one for me.”

“What?” he finished unbuttoning your shirt, given the circumstances of your slow movements. A respite for the poor man with a hard-on and his hard, aching cock being swallowed by your pussy.

Opening your shirt and revealing your bra, he didn't even bother to look at the lace or anything else, because your voice was the only thing he was concentrating on at that moment. The two of you kept staring at each other until you finally took off your shirt and took the opportunity to get rid of your bra, knowing that you had tortured Sunghoon enough to make him unbutton every button.

You pulled away from him to pull up his shirt, and he was quick to get the message and get completely naked, just as you were on top of him. You leaned your forehead against his again, your skin glistening against the light in the room and the sweat emanating from your shared activities.

“I don't want anyone but you” you kissed his lips slowly, moving your hips back in the same way ”I've never been with anyone but you and—”

Sunghoon knew it was enough, he knew he just needed that confirmation. Even if you'd been trying to say it all along and he was too stubborn – and jealous – to listen. He wanted to suffer in silence rather than listen to what you had to say. But after today and what you did, he could no longer have any doubts about the things that were happening.

Giving him all to reverse positions, pressing your back down on the mattress, and getting on top of you, Sunghoon lined his cock up in your pussy without wasting any time in being inside you again.

“Say it again,” he whispered as he began to thrust his cock into you. Sunghoon's face lined up on the curve of your neck as he thrust his cock into you at a slow but strong pace. The sound of his pelvis against your skin was enough to make you forget your words. Now you understood why he couldn't speak so perfectly when you were on top. It was hard to think of anything coherent while you felt his cock going deep inside you.

“I don't… Shit” you moaned softly as his cock drove deep, hitting the perfect spot inside your warm walls and making your nails slide down his back. Sunghoon kissed your neck, smiling against your skin at the effect he caused just by slowly thrusting his cock into you. “I don't want anyone else but you” saying it quickly hadn't been a mistake, not least because you knew that once he heard it, it would be enough to feel you faster.

And that's what happened. As if you knew him so well, Sunghoon raised his face to look at your every expression as he began to fuck his cock into your pussy. The fast, strong movements made your body sway beneath him and the overwhelming sound of your arousal coursed through his cock every time it moved in and out of you. Sunghoon rested one hand on the side of your body, the other gripped the headboard so tightly that his fingers might have hurt afterward from the force with which he held on. But it was all a consequence of all the sensations repressed while he fucked you as he pleased.

Sunghoon ignored the burning in your back caused by your nails in his skin, and he also ignored the fact that your thighs were squeezing him so tightly that, if it weren't for the speed with which he moved his hips against yours, you would surely have been able to stop him in a few moves. But he wouldn't give up, he wouldn't stop.

“I can't take it… I can't…” you pulled his face close to yours, mouths too close together.

“Do you want to cum?” he asked, your nod the only source of confirmation as you moaned his name against his lips.

Sunghoon nodded too, knowing he wasn't that far away from you as his cock throbbed inside your pussy. The way you sucked him so well was the perfect indication that he had to come right there to claim what was rightfully his. Your pussy and all of you.

He let you kiss him again, messy with drool, totally sloppy as he felt his hips stutter in their movements. You were getting more and more desperate and this was proven by the way your moans were swallowed by his lips and your pussy clenching him tightly.

It wasn't long before you came against his cock, the muscles in your pussy convulsing around his length. Without delay, Sunghoon knew you wouldn't be strong enough to take it, so he came straight away. The load of cum he poured into your pussy was hot and thick, every part of you squeezing him, milking his cock a little more until the last drop of cum he poured into you dried up.

Gasping and with your lips still pressed together, you gave one last loud sigh after moaning his name against his lips. Smiling along with Sunghoon as you both recovered a little from your rapid breathing.

He didn't want to open his eyes at that moment, afraid that everything would happen again. You and him having sex, and then Sunghoon found out that you were leaving for another country, and that made his heart hurt even more when he opened his eyes and didn't see you on the other side of the bed.

Sunghoon could have sworn he had hugged your waist the entire night after the two of you slept together, but you were no longer by his side. Again.

A lump formed in his throat at the thought that this was happening again, and even worse after you said everything you said. It wouldn't be indicative of anything if you spoke and still walked away like you did with him. Was that why you had asked him to believe you? So you could have another night together and now you're going to another country? Well, what would it be this time? It would have to be something further away than Switzerland because Sunghoon swore he could travel there after you again if that was the case.

Not wanting to think about it anymore, pushing away his blurred vision with a strong breath and trying not to focus on the tightness he was feeling in his chest, he stretched his hand beside the bed just to feel for his underwear and put them on, quickly leaving the room without paying attention to nothing else. It wouldn't be new for him to be left by you, but this time Sunghoon had to put an end to what he was feeling because he couldn't afford to be chased, to listen to you, to have sex with you, and then watch you leave. He couldn't allow that because Sunghoon would suffer every time, while he wouldn't know why you did all that.

He wanted not to think about those things, he wanted not to feel like crying as he walked around the apartment. But in vain, a tear had already fallen down his cheek and before Sunghoon even wiped it away, he almost felt his heart come out of his mouth when he found your figure in the kitchen.

You were wearing his t-shirt from the night before, and your eyes were focused on the small recipe book as you had some ingredients in front of you. With the sound of his footsteps, your attention was no longer on the words written by Sunghoon's grandfather in that worn notebook, but rather on the crying boy standing at the kitchen door.

“Hey, Hoonie” you would smile if it weren’t for the sight of Sunghoon’s cloudy eyes and wet cheek. You quickly walked towards him and held the face of the man in front of you, wiping away the second tear that was about to fall down the middle of his cheek “What is it? What happened?"

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug and sniffling softly against your hair.

“I thought you were gone again” he whimpered, letting a few more tears fall as he felt you hug him.

Relief would be best described in the middle of that hug, over any feeling Sunghoon swore he felt after waking up. He felt your lips kiss his bare shoulder and then slowly slide down his arms until you faced him.

“I’m not going anywhere anymore” you smiled, kissing him on the lips “And that’s why we need to talk.”

“For real now, right? Without my dick inside you?”

“Sunghoon!” you slapped his arm as you walked away, hearing the boy's captivating and welcoming laugh.

He noticed you were making his grandfather's famous coffee, or trying to replicate the little details. Just like he did that day in your apartment. The nostalgic moment brings him back to the day you told him you were in love with him. You revealed your feelings and let him say them too.

As you went back to preparing coffee, you felt Sunghoon's arms wrap around your waist and hug you from behind. He rested his face on your shoulder to pay attention while you concentrated there.

“I think I'm ready to listen to you now” he said as calmly as if he hadn't been almost desperate minutes before.

He also wouldn't say that he thought about traveling to another country if the scenario repeated itself. Maybe you thought he was crazy, or not so much because you knew Sunghoon enough to know that he would be capable of that since his first feeling was denial that you came back this time. Now all he had to do was go after it if it happened. What he wouldn't do and you would say so clearly to him.

“You were right when you said that my Dad tried to set me up with a partner’s son and everything…” Sunghoon knew there was no way to hide the tightening of his muscles, the arms around your waist tightening a little more and the jaw resting on your shoulder becoming harder as he listened to you. You knew this would happen, so you had to be quick in your explanations “That’s very much a movie scene, isn’t it?”

"What?" he asked, trying to ignore the amusement in your tone. This wasn't fun at all, why were you making it out to be?

“The Dad trying to arrange a marriage for his daughter and the heiress of his company” you laughed softly as you poured some coffee powder into the machine, focusing on the mixture of sugar and cinnamon that was described on the sheet on the other side of the counter “But my life it’s not a movie.”

"What do you mean by that?" Sunghoon was visibly confused, his hands resting against your stomach.

“I mean that—” you stopped yourself, hearing the coffee machine start to make noise as it prepared the liquid that the two of you would drink right away. Turning around in Sunghoon's arms, your hands finally palmed his bare chest. “My father tried to control this in my life, but he couldn't. And that’s why I went to Switzerland.”

If he was confused before, he was even more so now. And as he listened to you calmly, everything, even though it made sense, left him shocked.

Sunghoon knew that your father always tried to control everything in your life, and it was one of the biggest reasons why you always vented to him. Having someone control almost everything for you was extremely annoying, a tremendous invasion of privacy. But as soon as you learned that your father wanted to make you marry his business partner's son, it sounded like a ridiculous joke to you. It was a movie you could see with Stella at a movie theater as they discussed how life tried to imitate art, but not when you objected to it.

“That night I showed up at your bar crying, it was because I decided to leave for Switzerland without anyone knowing. I wanted to escape yet another choice in my life made by my father” you sighed slowly, Sunghoon's fingers caressing your waist through your – his – t-shirt. You felt his lips slowly against the top of your head and you smiled because they remained there “Only you knew through that letter. I didn’t even tell Stella, but… I knew you would show her and the boys, so it was okay because I trust you all.”

He moved his lips from your head to your forehead, breathing deeply against your skin. Now that things were starting to make sense, Sunghoon swore he felt even more angry towards your father.

“This trip was to organize my mind on how I would face my father in this situation because it wasn't easy to make him change his mind” you sighed “Well, you heard it on the phone that day.”

“Unfortunately” he whispered, not wanting to interrupt you even if you wanted to hear him.

The noise of the coffee machine interrupted your thoughts for a brief moment, then you turned back in his arms to pour a good amount into the two cups in front of you. Sunghoon slid his arms around your waist again, still hugging you and not wanting to let go so soon.

“I came back because I decided to lead my own life, I didn't want him to do that for me anymore” preparing the coffee was done with a shaking hand because you felt like crying every time you thought about the fights against your father.

The harsh words he said to you while you refused to follow what he wanted for you. Of all the years he was in control of your life, it was time for things to change. You felt a feather-light kiss that Sunghoon placed on your shoulder when you signaled that the coffee was ready. He picked up the cup and walked to the other side of the counter so he was facing you.

“And also because I resigned from his company because he simply said I couldn’t get married when I was already committed to someone else.”

He almost spat out his coffee when he heard it come out of your mouth so nonchalantly. Those new attitudes from such a carefree Y/n were not something Sunghoon was used to, especially after you gave an innocent smile as if you hadn't said the craziest thing out loud.

"You're kidding, right?" he tried to catch his breath after coughing a few times, resting the cup on the kitchen counter “Y/n, you can’t do this.”

“I can and I did, Sunghoon” you smiled with your lips against your cup as you sipped your hot coffee “I talked about being in love with you since university, that I didn't want to be the boss of that shit company anymore and that I quit because I simply I wanted to have control of my own life and do what I wanted.”

As much as it was something he wanted to hear at all costs, Sunghoon couldn't be selfish enough to let you miss out on things because part of you had told your father about your feelings for him.

“Did you tell him about me?” Sunghoon asked, seeing you nod as you drank more coffee.

Possibly your father had cursed Sunghoon the moment he heard you say that he owned a bar and not the owner of a company. He knew this should have happened.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” your voice took him away from his thoughts for a while, he picked up the cup of coffee again, looking at the dark liquid now, trying not to focus on your intense gaze.

“You can’t just give up your life for your feelings, Y/n.”

“You mean the money?” he didn't see the eye roll you gave, otherwise he would scold you for it and continue saying how wrong you were for doing those things.

“I mean that—”

It hurt Sunghoon to have to think, and to be about to say that out loud. But just as you were being sincere, he could tell you what he thought too. It wouldn't be a judgment on his part and he hoped you wouldn't be offended, especially because he also had the right to think that way.

“The guy your father wants you to be with has money and a good life” he bit the tip of his tongue at the thought of another man being with you. Even if it was to make his father happy, Sunghoon just couldn't do it. “He's from your world, Y/n.”

"My world?" your shaky voice made him look up from the coffee to your face. You looked strangely sad, and he didn't want you to feel that. You should be happy, maybe, Sunghoon also didn't know what to think anymore.

“Yeah, he has money, I don’t” Sunghoon took a big sip of coffee “We’re from two different worlds, you know?”

“No” you replied quickly, the thud of the cup against the counter on the other side made Sunghoon shrug his shoulders momentarily.

"Why not?" he placed the cup back, walking around the counter ever so slowly to get closer to you again. He wanted to touch you and you would possibly hit him because of the way you were looking at him. He didn't want to see you like this either, but he risked pulling you against him and bringing your face closer to his.

“Because I don’t want a world where you’re not in it, Park Sunghoon” your pout dismantled him at that moment, matching the shape of your words “You are my world.”

Fuck your father's opinion and thoughts and Sunghoon's pride in trying to think that you should follow another path. He wouldn't be stupid enough to push you onto someone else, not when you were there, openly saying that you gave up a lot of things because of him. Much of it was because of you and your wishes, but if that included Sunghoon, he wouldn't waste it.

Sunghoon kissed you so slowly, feeling the taste of the freshly drunk coffee and your warm lips against his. Your hands quickly went to his hair and Sunghoon hugged you so tight, afraid you would run away and believe his words from minutes ago. Fuck money, fuck everything. You said he was your world, and he wanted to be your world just like you were his.

“I love you” Sunghoon whispered after kissing you, his lips still hovering over yours “I love you so much I don’t want you to leave.”

“I love you so much more” you whispered back, snuggling into his arms as you felt Sunghoon’s heartbeat against your chest as you felt him hold you in that hug. “And I’m not going anywhere without you now.”

“Promise?”

“I promise” you kissed his lips once again, and Sunghoon could scream with happiness to finally have you in his arms.

Being able to wake up every morning and feel your body on the other side of the bed with the certainty that you wouldn't leave. He knew he would have to face your father sooner or later, but he also knew that your request the night before to believe in you was what was worth it. Sunghoon would believe in you at all times because being together with you, nothing else mattered.

“By the way” you smiled slowly when he began to undo his arms around your body, moving away so he could return to the other side of the counter and drink the rest of the coffee. He would prepare food afterward because the drink alone wouldn't be enough.

“Say it, love” he encouraged you when he didn’t hear you continue. Raising an eyebrow at you as he brought the cup to his lips to finish the contents and pay attention to what you had to say.

“Is there space at your bar? I don’t want to be without work.”

Sunghoon truly laughed as he walked back behind you, leaning down enough to place the cup into the sink. He wouldn't imagine someone like you working in his crazy bar, not when you didn't behave like the people who worked there. Not even Stella would work there.

“Maybe you should ask Stella for help with this, baby” Sunghoon kissed the side of your neck, causing a slight shiver to run across your skin “I don’t want you to work in my bar because I know the type of customers I have there.”

"Jealous?" you joked.

"Jealous of you? Definitely” he nibbled your skin, watching you shiver even more.

Continued to laugh at your reaction and your protests about being a good employee, maybe even better than his three best friends. You could team up with Stella and attract more clientele to the bar, even if the establishment doesn't need it. It was Sunghoon's turn to feel a shiver run down his spine at the idea of ​​men staring at you or trying to flirt with you, just like he saw them doing with any girl who frequented his bar. Now that the two of you were together, he knew that being jealous was nothing compared to what he would experience with you.

But if it was the same way he was being, laughing at your protests, receiving your kisses as he scooped up the pancake batter, and listening to you grumble about wanting to work with Stella now, he would love to live by her side. Because you were his world, just like he was his.

© ikeuverse, 2023. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You'll Be Home For Christmas

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You agree to do a favour for your coworker but it might be more than you can handle.

Character: Clark Kent

Day Nineeen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - fake dating becomes too real.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"I know it sounds weird, but, my mom's getting up there..." Clark looks away as he pokes his tongue into his cheek. 

You're not sure how he does it. How someone like him can make himself look pathetic. He's a big man. Mountainous really. He dwarfs just about everybody in the office. Even the desks look tiny next to him. And the chisel of his face is so sharp yet in that moment, he looks heart-wrenchingly soft. 

"It's just you two this year?" You ask. 

"Um, yeah," he rubs the back of his neck then drags his hand around and down his chest. He shifts in his chair and clears his throat. "Look, I know I can be nosy but I overheard you and Maggie. You said you don't have any plans this year--" He cringes and leans forward, putting his elbows to the desk as he covers his face then peeks out between his fingers. "It's a dumb idea." 

"It seems like you're pretty stressed," you fold your hands behind you. You don't want to agree with his last statement and make him feel worse. 

"Yeah, after Lois..." he shakes his head, "my mom's convinced I'm going to be alone forever and she keeps telling me how old she's getting. Says she wants to live long enough to see me happy." 

"Wow, sounds worse than my mom," you kid but quickly deflate. "Sorry, I'm not trying to make light." 

"No, it's ridiculous," he heaves and drops his eyes. "I've asked two of my neighbours, I asked my mail lady, and oh, yeah, the girl who made my coffee today. I'm all out of shame." 

"Can I think about it?" You ask. You know you're going to say no, but you don't want to do it right away. 

He perks up and his blue eyes flick to meet yours. His brows rise hopefully and he rolls forward in his chair, "really?" 

"I didn't say yes." 

"But you're the first person not to say no," he smiles. 

Oof, there it is. You've always had a hard time in situations like these. You're a people pleaser in the worst way. 

"Anyway, I should get back to work," you say. 

"When-- when will you know?" He asks. 

You hesitate. 

"End of today?" He suggests. 

You nod. Alright. You just need to get out of there before you cave to that puppy dog sparkle in his eyes. A man who looks like that shouldn't be able to make himself so pitiful. 

✨

You don’t know why you said yes. You really were going to say no but when Clark came back to check in, you weren’t prepared. So absorbed in your work, that you forgot about the odd request. 

So here you are, right beside him, wound as tight as a spring as you try not to show it. It’s not how you imagined spending Christmas. When your typical traditional obligation felt through, you were almost relieved. Now that dread has returned but in a new flavour. Meeting someone else’s family is somehow more intimidating than your mother’s judgement. 

Clark’s own anxiety pales in his knuckles as he drives silently. Only the radio provides some softness in the tension between you. It’s always strange to spend time with coworkers outside the office and now you’re jumping headfirst into their most personal facet. 

You fidget in your seat and let your eyes blur out the window. You didn’t expect his mom to live this far, yet you should have. He’d mentioned before he grew up on a farm. It must have been nice in a way, peaceful, out where you can’t hear the city honking and hollering. 

The snow thickens as you get further into the country. His large truck doesn’t falter as he steers cautiously through snowed over tire tracks. Would the plow even get this far out here? If it did, you don’t imagine it would come very often. 

Your mind latches onto those random things to avoid the obvious. You’ve always been this way. Instead of worrying about your mother lecturing you about your stagnant work situation, you’re usually more concerned with how your hair lays or if she’s going to the like that bottle of wine you spent too much money on for her. 

“Thanks again,” Clark’s baritone rolls over you like thunder. “Really. I know it’s... strange. I’m just not ready to date again but... my mom...” 

“Trust me. I get it. My mom can be... a lot,” you chuckle, though it’s really not that funny. 

“Oh yeah? I didn’t want to be nosy, but...” 

“Right, uh, you know, my brother asked if we could have dinner on Christmas Eve instead and the rest of us agreed. She insisted that Christmas Eve isn’t Christmas...” Your heart picks up with the anxiety you bury deep down. “Well, she cancelled Christmas since no one agreed with her.” 

“Wow, really?” 

“Uh, yep,” you can’t look at him. It’s embarrassing. It’s like when your mother dumped your birthday cake in the garbage because you pointed out you were 13 not 12 that year. Or when she walked out of your graduation because your grandmother wouldn’t switch seats. “It’s whatever. Family, right?” 

“I guess,” he says. “My parents always loved holidays too. Especially when dad was around.” 

“I’m sorry about your dad,” you murmur. 

“Don’t be. Sorry if it seems like I keep bringing that up,” he sniffs. 

You look ahead to the sole structure as it looms closer and closer. A farmhouse that comes clearer through the drift of flakes, and a barn like a shadow near its rear corner. It’s like one of those classic festive paintings printed on an advent calendar or some 1950s domestic dream. 

He pulls up to the house and shifts in his seat. Concern needles in his cheek as he squints over the steering wheel. He wrenches the shifter into park and kills the engine. You sit futilely and let him take the lead. 

“Lights are off,” he mutters. 

You nod, unsure what to say. Is something wrong? 

He gets out and you watch the snow dust into his dark hair and across his broad shoulders. He is unfettered by the deep snow. You zip up your coat and turn to your door. You push it open and look out into the perilous carpet. 

Clark surprises you as he comes around. “Here,” he puts his arms out, “it’s deep.” 

You grab his hand and his other goes to your waist. He as good as lifts you and sets you down in the path he’s stomped through the piles. You thank him and awkwardly detach. He shuts the door and moves around you closely. 

He leads the way to the porch so you can walk through his footsteps. Your lashes catch the snow as you look up at the grey sky. You don’t think you’ll make it home that night. Shoot. 

Clark kicks off his boots as he digs in the pocket of his coat and pulls out some keys. He unlocks the door and gestures you in ahead of him. You try to clear off your treads before you enter. He reaches around the frame to flip on the light. 

He crowds you as he enters. You try not to step off the mat and make a mess of the floor. You slip free of your Adidas, not the best choice for the weather, and shuffle aside. He hangs his jackets and combs his fingers through his hair to clear the flakes out. The dark strands glisten with the moisture. 

“Give me your coat,” he reaches for you. 

“Oh, yeah,” you unzip your jacket and hand it over. It isn’t exactly climate appropriate either. You’ve been meaning to invest in winter gear. A lot of times your intentions are only ever that. “Thanks.” 

“Quiet...” he mulls as his eyes skim the ceiling and he hooks your jacket on the rack. 

“Yeah, a little.” 

“Ma’s probably laying down,” he utters with a hint of concern. “I’m gonna go check and see what’s going on.” 

“Oh, I hope she’s okay.” 

“No worries. She stays up all night reading,” he shakes his head. “Feel free to make yourself at home.” 

“Right, er, okay.” 

You back up as he passes you. He heads upstairs and you slowly pivot to take in the interior. The pale wood is marked with knots which give it an even more rustic atmosphere and the decor is simple but in a quaintly traditional way. The details etched into the slender drawer of a side table or the dainty trim of the area rug give a lived-in effect. 

You tiptoe into the front room and hug yourself as you feel a draught whisper in around the window. You find the light switch and flip it on to cast more light across the neatly arranged furniture. There's an old-fashioned iron firestove in the middle of the room, the flue built up to the ceiling.  

You can hear Clark moving around above. The rest of the house is silent. You look at the old grandfather clock standing against the wall. It’s just after eleven in the morning. 

You turn as the stairs creak. Clark appears in the doorway with a sober expression. “Mom’s just waking up. It might be a while. She... she’s having a tough day.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Is she sick?” 

“She is and she isn’t. Just getting older, you know? Ever since she broke her hip last year, she’s been a bit slower,” he explains. 

“Oh, gosh, Clark,” you say. “Is there anything I can do to help? You said she was planning on dinner but I can get all that started for her.” 

“Sure, she usually thaws the turkey in the sink overnight,” he says. “We should probably start there.” 

“Right,” you chew your lip. 

“It’s nice of you to offer but if it’s too much--” 

“No, no! It’s cool. I’ve just never stuffed a turkey on my own,” you say. “I was always just an observer.” 

Your mother never believed anything was done right unless she did it herself. Then she’d complain about having to do it. 

“I can help,” he offers. 

“Sure, sounds like a plan. I think she might appreciate the help, huh?” 

He smiles but doesn’t answer right away. For a moment, he only stares. He clears his throat and nods at last, “she would—will.” 

“Show me where it all is,” you show your palms, not wanting to presume too much. 

He beckons you after him as he leads you through the doorway perpendicular to the one you came through. He turns on another light. This place feels desolate with them off. 

“So uh...” he begins as he goes to the counter and peeks in the sink, “yep, turkey’s in here.” 

“Great, hopefully it’s dethawed,” you say. “Alright, do you mind if I poke around?” 

“It’s all yours. I’ll try to help but gotta be honest, as a kid, I was out in the field,” he stands back to watch you. 

“Right,” you come forward to look the turkey over. Good thing is it won’t need extra time due to being half-frozen. 

“Hum... do you know if your mother does stuffing from scratch or a box?” You turn back to him. 

“Scratch, probably,” he shrugs. 

“Cool, uh, I need bread,” you declare. It’s almost nice being in charge. A very new but refreshing feeling. 

✨

The smell of turkey wafts from the stove as you work at the other fixings. You follow the list on the fridge. The paper is a bit yellowed but you can read it nonetheless. At least Clark’s mother is a planner. Although a few of her ingredients are a bit... aged. Nothing you can’t use but the spices have a little extra dust on the caps. 

Clark appears again. He’s been pacing in and out, helping where he can, but he seems too restless to focus. You tap pause on your phone to stop the music. You don’t get any signal out here but you have a bunch downloaded. It helps ease the silence that thickens with the fall of snow. 

“So, how’s mom? She doing okay?” You ask. 

“Mom?” He hesitates, “yeah, she’s getting there. Sorry about this. I know the whole reason you did this was to make her happy. For me. I just didn’t expect--” He blows out a heavy breath and leans on the counter. “It’s hard when you get older and everyone you love starts to leave. Or change.” 

Your heart flickers. You try not to frown too deep, “I’m sorry, Clark.” You look back down at the bowl of soaking cranberries. You take your family for granted. The might be a little toxic but they’re there. 

“Not your fault. I just... I thought I had it figured out with Lois. Everyone was happy and my mom was ecstatic,” he clutches his hands together. You meet his eyes sheepishly. “I just wanted her to be that way again. And you’re so sweet and nice.” 

“Aw, Clark. Well, you know, I should thank you. At least I’m not alone on Christmas,” you try to pep yourself up. “Um, I gotta wait for these cranberries a little long. Could I use the bathroom?” 

“Right, er, it’s just down the hall,” he points towards the second doorway that interconnects with the same hallway that leads back to the stairs. 

“Thanks,” you wipe your hands on a dishcloth and leave him with a thin smile. 

As you flit out, your chest sinks. You think of everything you’ve said since you got there, how insensitive it must have seemed. And back in the car when you complained about your mom. Ugh, he must think you’re so ungrateful. 

You close yourself in the bathroom and tend to your business. You’d been holding it since he picked you up from your building. You wash your hands, pumping the soap bottle hard to dislodge a clog in the tube. You finally finish up but find the smell of mildew stuck to your hands from the towel. 

You come out of the bathroom and look up and down the hallway. You shift to see the framed picture a bit better. Those must be his parents, and little Clark. You can’t believe he was ever that small. 

There are other pictures across the table below. A cluster of frames; class photos, impromptu snaps of memories, and posed family shots. Beneath one, there’s a slip of paper. You try not to be intrusive but the fading font catches your eye. You lean in as you tilt the frame to see the full letter, the card bent and forgotten beneath. 

‘Our condolences. We were so sorry to hear of your mother’s passing. Please do let us anything we can do for you.’ The message is signed Mallory and Chuck. You blink in confusion. Maybe it’s an old card meant for his mother; for a grandparent. 

“She died last year,” Clark startles you so you whip up and nearly tip as you stand straight. “It’s my first Christmas without her,” he continues. “I’m sorry I lied but I didn’t want to be alone.” 

You shake your head. Confusion swells through your stomach and clouds your brain. The fog clears and your eyes wander up to the ceiling. 

“Your mom?” 

“I miss her,” his voice cracks. “She took care of me.” 

“Oh, well, yeah,” you quaver unevenly. You’re reeling. Why would he lie about that? And to get you here? You’re just coworkers. “That must be hard.” 

“Mhm,” he nods and pouts. As he comes closer, you tense, wavering with his steps. “You’re not mad at me?” 

Your lips part then close. The wind whistles outside and reminds you of how isolated this place is. Clark drove you here... 

“I’m just... wondering why you need to lie,” you eke out. 

“I know it’s wrong but... if I told the truth, you might say no.” 

You nod and as he reaches for you, you wince away. You hug yourself and push your shoulders up. You swallow, “Clark, what is the truth? Why am I here?” 

He tilts his head and his eyes drift to the side. The light fades in his pupils and his jaw clenches. His fingers twiddle by his leg. 

“To be with me,” he looks at you again and smiles. A smile shadowed sinisterly beneath the worn bulb above. “You’re alone too.” 

You stare at him. Terror floods your veins and paralyses you. You want to turn and run but you won’t get far. All you can do is bide your time and hope that you can find a chance and way to get out. But for now, with him so close, so much bigger, you have to pretend. That is exactly what he asked you to do, after all. 

[cherimoyatea]

Heyyy, can I request an ff where Sylus and Mc are having their intimate moment but they forgot to close the door so Luke and Kieran accidentally saw them?

Ahhh a request! Hi Annonie!

Thank you so much for trusting me with your request! I actually never saw that coming, so I'm kind of both nervous and excited at the same time!

Life has been busy recently and I didn't have much time to write but your request was spinning in the back of my head! And this was so much fun to write!

I changed my style for a more comedic route this time and kept things lighthearted, hope that's okay!

Love, Cheri 🍒

❧ Sylus - Private Surprise

Pairing: Sylus x You Word Count: 826 Tags: established relationship, comedy, suggestive content (kissing, making out, no smut tho), luke and kieran being adorkable

It's Friday night, and you have eagerly accepted your boyfriend's invitation to spend the weekend at his villa in the N109 Zone.

After a long, challenging week, the chance to spend a few days with him couldn't have come at a better time, and your heart fluttered when he picked you up to have dinner together before driving you both back to his place.

You're standing by the sideboard in his living room, about to pour yourself a drink, when Sylus suddenly appears behind you on silent toes, putting his hands on your hips.

''Mmm, I missed you, Kitten…''

He whispers in your ear, grazing it with the tip of his nose.

Slowly, the silver-haired man moves his head down your neck, gently placing soft kisses there. His touch on your skin sends a tingle through your body, and you can't help but close your eyes and tilt your neck, giving him more space as he moves down to your shoulder.

''S-Sylus… Luke and Kieran will be here anytime soon.''

You stutter nervously while his hands move to the hem of your shirt, slowly sliding beneath the fabric to find the soft skin of your stomach, a smirk forming on his lips. ''Don't worry about the twins, Sweetie. I've sent them off to pick something up for me—they'll be busy for a while.''

Even though your pulse is racing with excitement, you set your glass back on the sideboard and turn around with a teasing smile, crossing your arms to appear nonchalant. ''Oh! So this is the surprise you mentioned earlier? I see…''

''No Kitten…'' Sylus replies with a smug grin, unfazed by your cheeky attitude. Even though you are pretending to be indifferent, your flushed face gives you away. With one swift move, he lifts your hips and places you on the sideboard, stepping between your thighs as he spreads them with his strong hands. ''...the surprise is yet to come.''

The red-eyed man leans closer, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss before hungerily sliding his tongue out, inviting himself into your mouth. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you willingly let him in and wrap your arms around his neck, returning his kiss passionatly.

Lost in the heat of the moment, you don't hear the front door being opened and steps echoing in the hallway, coming closer…

''Boss, the address turned out to be wrong. We-''

You both startle and your heads swivel toward the voice when the door swings open and Luke and Kieran enter the living room, suddenly freezing in their movements as their eyes meet you and Sylus.

Obviously caught in a very intimate moment.

''O-Oh shit!! Boss?! MC??'' Kieran squeaks, while Luke throws his hands over his mask in an attempt to cover his eyes. Shrill screams echo through the huge villa, and Sylus raises an irritated eyebrow, unsure who's louder—the twins or you!

Panicked, the young men try to escape the awkward situation by running off, but Kieran stumbles over a pouf, grabs Luke's arm, and causes both of them to trip and fall to the floor instead.

''Waaah, my eyes, my eeeyes!'' Luke whines, rubbing his hands frantically on his mask, while Kieran tries to gather himself from the floor, still paralyzed by embarrassment.

The twins feel like they just walked into their parents!

''Argh, enough now!'' Sylus snarls and pulls away from you, giving you space to quickly jump off the sideboard and hide behind his large form so you can fix your disheveled state. With a single motion of his hand, the twins are swiftly thrown out of the living room, the door slamming shut behind them with a loud bang.

''N-Noo…!'' You cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, feeling the heat flood your cheeks.

Why didn't you lock the damn door?

''I'll never be able to face them again!'' You whine, wishing the ground would open up beneath you and swallow you whole.

Sylus lets out an amused huff and gently grips your wrists, pulling it away from your flushed face to look at you. ''I feel like the twins aren't any better, Kitten.''

The next morning, the twins are nowhere to be seen when you and Sylus have breakfast in the dining room. And even for the rest of your stay, there is no sign of them, anywhere.

Once you're back home, you find a small gift basket on your doorstep, filled with your favorite sweets, flowers, and plushies. As you approach, you catch a glimpse of two shadows hiding around the corner of your stairway, watching you closely from afar.

Pretending you didn't see them, you pick up the basket, fish for the note inside, and chuckle as you read it silently:

''Sorry MC! We won't tell anyone! Promise!

xoxo, Luke and Kieran

p.s.: Luke has serious questions about the 'sideboard moment' but don't worry, he's too embarrassed to ask.

p.p.s.: Next time, maybe a 'Do Not Disturb' sign?"

Thank you for reading!

Cheri 🍒

[runnning-outof-time]

Hasn’t Burned Down Yet | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @asherlockfandom

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) proves that she's still not one to be messed with when it comes to her business. Tommy's happy he's not the one in the line of fire this time.

Warnings: drinking, mentions of smoking

Word Count: 3475

A/N: I’m sorry it took me so long to share this one with y’all…I’ve been going through it lately hah. I had a bunch of fun writing it though. I hope you like it. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: this can be read as a standalone, but to really know the Tommy and (Y/N) in this story, I suggest you check out the first part: The House’ll Burn Down…you can find it HERE.

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged!

"Someone's waiting up front for you, (Y/N)," Anna, one of (Y/N)'s employees, announced as she came into the back of the shop.

"Tell them I'll be out in five," (Y/N) responded, her eyes not leaving the latest sketch she was working on.

"He's not the sort that you keep waiting," Anna stated, her words making (Y/N) look up. The latter expected to see a look of worry on the former's face. Instead a slight smile was present.

"Ok...?" (Y/N) trailed off sounding slightly confused as she stood from her desk and walked to the front of the shop. Her brow stayed furrowed until she made it to the front counter and saw who was waiting for her.

"You forgot about my appointment, didn't you?" the man waiting out front asked, his one eyebrow quirked as a smirk played on his lips.

"Just come back, Mr. Shelby," (Y/N) dismissed his teasing question, trying her best to hide her smile as she motioned to him, making Tommy walk around the counter to join her.

"I've got the front," Anna announced, smiling at her boss.

"Thank you, Anna," (Y/N) nodded, sending the younger woman a smile before she began to walk back to the workroom.

"Why do you insist on keeping appointments here?" (Y/N) questioned as she led him to one of the fitting rooms. "This could be done on our own time, you know."

"I thought it was you who insisted on keeping a separation between business and pleasure, hmm?" Tommy commented with a grin, following her into the fitting room before he took hold of her arm and spun her to face him. He pressed his lips to hers and slipped his arms around her waist before she could say a word.

"Separation between business and pleasure, hmm?" she quipped once they'd pulled away, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Was you who wanted it, not me," he reminded her, sending a wink her way. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the gesture, but she couldn't stop her smile from growing. "Wanted to do that from the second I saw you out there," he admitted then.

"Well I'm happy you were able to control yourself, Mr. Shelby," (Y/N) commented, patting his chest.

"I try my best, Mrs. Shelby," he responded, making her let out a breath of a laugh before she leaned in and kissed him again. "Your composure's easy to crack," he commented with a grin once they pulled away.

"Let's just get this finished with...before I become upset with you," (Y/N) said with a smile, pushing on his chest to break their embrace so that she could grab the things she needed to begin taking measurements.

Truthfully she knew the measurements of her husband by now, but Tommy still insisted on these fittings. He wanted to make sure that things were perfect. It wasn't that he doubted his wife's work, if anything it was because this gave him another chance to spend some time with her. Time was something that neither had much of due to their busy schedules.

Surely you’ve noticed by now that things have - obviously - changed between (Y/N) and Tommy. It most certainly didn't happen overnight though. After (Y/N) put Tommy in his place, she fully expected him to take his business elsewhere. But he stuck around, and when he realized that she wasn't going to change how she dealt with him, he decided to change his approach. One thing led to another and eventually, as of two months ago, (Y/N) found herself with a new surname. She honestly couldn't think of a time where she's been as happy as she is now.

Along with getting married, (Y/N)'s business has also taken off. She's now one of the most respected tailors in not only Small Heath, but the entirety of Birmingham. She worked hard to gain her reputation, and all of the countless hours that she spent mastering her craft have certainly paid off.

"What will you be wearing to the event?" Tommy decided to make conversation whilst (Y/N) was still taking measurements.

"Since when is that something you care about?" she playfully quipped in response as she moved over to her clipboard and wrote a few notes before returning to him.

"I want to make sure you match me," he gave his reason.

"Oh I'll make sure you do, darling," she smiled at him, her eyes finding his for just a moment before she motioned for him to hold his arms out so that she could take the measurements for his suit's jacket.

She bit on her bottom lip to try and conceal the smile as she brought her tape measure up and held it against the underneath of his arm. She did this to both sides before moving it down to hold it against his torso. She really had to bite on her bottom lip as she slowly moved her hand down along his ribs. Just like she expected him to, Tommy flinched the second her fingers touched the space below his ribs.

"Stop moving," she teasingly chastised him, continuing on with making her measurements.

Tommy just grunted in response, watching her closely as she finished with his left side and moved onto his right. Here she slowed her actions down substantially. He couldn't help but flinch again when her fingers brushed over that same spot.

"I said stop moving, Thomas," she rebuked him again, lifting her gaze up to match his, showing him the smile that was present on her features.

"You know what you're doing," he commented, his eyes narrowing as they stayed locked onto hers.

"I do," she chirped, tilting her chin upwards, "very well."

"Then you should know..." he trailed off, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes, "that I know those exact same spots on you," he paused, his eyes dropping to sneak a glance at her frame, "very well," he finished his statement by reaching out and pressing his fingers into the skin of her sides, where she was extremely ticklish.

These actions made (Y/N) shriek and quickly drop her hands so that she could try to get him to stop what he was doing. It wasn't an easy feat. "Tommy, stop!" she exclaimed through her giggles, finally managing to get ahold of his hands and pull them from her sides after a few moments had passed. "We're supposed to be professional here," she hissed at him then, trying her best to hide the smile that just wouldn't stay away. She stopped trying when she noticed that he was already smiling.

"Fair enough," he nodded, showing that he was conceding to her. "Finish your measurements."

(Y/N) let go of his hands with a huff and bent down to grab the tape measure that had been discarded when this all started. They then sent each other a look: (Y/N) to check if he was really finished with his previous tirade, and Tommy to tell her 'no more funny business'.

The stare down lasted a few moments, but nothing else happened once (Y/N) resumed taking her measurements. The only time the envelope was pushed was when Tommy spun (Y/N) around and managed to sneak a kiss just before she crossed the threshold into the front of the shop.

(Y/N) made sure that Tommy's suit complimented her dress for the gala they were attending that evening. She had picked out a royal blue evening gown, and made sure that Tommy's suit was a charcoal color and had a blue tie to bring it together. She also wanted to include a blue pocketsquare but Tommy fought it, saying that the tie was enough. (Y/N) finally conceded when Frances came and announced that their car had arrived, instead telling Tommy that he'd need to make this up to her in some way.

Now the event was in full swing. (Y/N) stayed by Tommy's side, joining him in the conversations that he was having. She was able to add meaningful viewpoints, and Tommy appreciated that. Her presence was way more than just a prize on his arm.

"Mr. Shelby, I must bring attention to the fine suit you've got on," Elliot Thorsby, a man who was a prominent figure in automobile sales, began as he approached the couple. (Y/N)'s smile grew as she heard what he said. The suit she made had been getting compliments like this one all evening. "Might I ask where you had it made?"

"Me wife’s the one who made it," Tommy was happy to share, nodding his head to the woman standing on his right. "She makes all of my suits."

"Ahh," Elliot responded, looking surprised as he nodded slowly. "Is she open to taking on new clients?" he asked then, still speaking to Tommy.

"Now that's something that I wouldn't know personally," Tommy began, glancing over at his wife before he continued, "why don't you ask her yourself?"

Elliot held Tommy's gaze for a few beats before it seemed like he snapped out of whatever bubble he was in. That was when he finally turned his attention to (Y/N). "Are you taking new clients, Mrs. Shelby?" he asked, his bushy eyebrows raised in wait.

(Y/N) took a moment to respond to the question. She figured that he deserved to wait a few moments longer. After all it was him who decided to ask it indirectly in the first place. And she honestly quite enjoyed watching him squirm in his spot; obviously not used to being on the receiving side of this sort of situation.

"Well I've already got quite the schedule lined up, but for you, Mr. Thorsby, I'd be willing to make an exception," she finally informed him of her decision, a professional smile gracing her features.

"You would?" he sounded elated, almost like a kid on Christmas.

"I would," she affirmed with a nod.

"Wonderful," Elliot grinned. He paused as a man came to his side and whispered something in his ear. "You'll need to excuse me now, a business matter has come up. We'll reconnect at the end of the evening and schedule a time," he told the Shelby couple once the other man had left.

"That sounds fine," (Y/N) nodded at him, then accepting the handshake that Elliot extended to both her and Tommy. He was the first to leave the conversation, leaving the husband and wife to turn to each other.

"Got you another client," Tommy commented on the previous coversation as he fished the tin of cigarettes out of his pocket.

"We'll see how it goes," (Y/N) answered in a nonchalant manner, smiling at her husband as she shrugged her shoulders.

The earliest Elliot Thorsby was able to come to (Y/N)'s shop in Small Heath was two weeks after their initial conversation date.

She greeted him with a smile before telling Anna that she'd be taking this client and that the younger woman should man the desk while she was gone. Once everything was squared away in that regard, (Y/N) waved on Elliot for him to come back with her.

Things went well with the fitting. (Y/N) was able to get a good read on what Elliot wanted and had some great ideas for a design before she was even finished with the measurements. Now she couldn't wait to get some time alone to get started on her beginning sketches. But first she had to see Mr. Thorsby out.

The two returned to the front of the store. (Y/N) told Anna that she was able to return to her previous project, leaving her and Mr. Thorsby alone at the counter. She quickly got to work on calculating the price of the fitting visit and also what the suit would cost. She then shared that final price with him without second thought.

A few moments passed and Elliot still hadn't offered up the money yet. This made (Y/N) glance up from the ledger she was writing down the sale in. "Is there a problem?" she asked with raised brows, immediately noticing the sour look that was present on his face.

"Don't you think the price is a bit...much?" he questioned her.

"No, sir. It's spot on with what I normally charge," there was no hesitation in her answer.

"Yeah, but..." he trailed off, obviously not pleased with the response he was given. "But given my relationship with your husband, and the business we've conducted together…” he paused again, “well don't you think that warrants a lesser price?"

It took everything in (Y/N) to stop the scoff that she wanted to let out in response to his statement. It made her look of confusion quickly turn to one of surprise. "Your relationship and the manner in which you conduct business with my husband does not have any effect on how I run my business, Mr. Thorsby," she began, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, "I take pride in my work and I know how much my suits are worth."

"But for a man with my standing, don't you think that..."

"You'll pay full price for the suit," she cut him off before he could even finish his statement.

Hearing her blatant demand made his jaw go slack. "And if your husband gets knowledge of the manner in which you're treating his associates?" he decided to try another direction.

"My husband pays full price as well," she quickly shut him down for the second time, not in the slightest bit fazed by his threats.

"Your own husband?" there was bewilderment in Mr. Thorsby's voice.

"He knows how much they're worth," (Y/N) doubled down, once again speaking in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I think you're making a rather grand mistake here, Mrs. Shelby," he tried one last time to try and turn the tides in his favor.

(Y/N) didn't waste a moment worrying about his threat. "I think I'll be just fine," she assured him, a tight-lipped smile forming on her face. She hoped that it added salt into the wound she'd inflicted upon his ego.

"You're not afraid of what'll come once word of this gets out?" he still continued trying. It was almost comical now. She sent him a look; a non-verbal way of asking him 'are we finished here?'. But he paid no attention to it, instead trying one last line that he used when he didn't get his way. "Do you not know how much power I hold?"

Ahh, the power card, (Y/N) thought to herself as she continued to try her hardest and hold back her scoff, where have I heard that one before?.

She was way passed finished with him and his droning on at this point. His pestering had brought her to the end of her professional rope. She was trying like hell to keep herself composed and not lose her cool. She wanted to keep taking the high road.

A few moments passed before she took a deep breath and finally responded: "I've dealt with the likes of you before, Mr. Thorsby. I've been given threats harsher in nature than the one you've just told me. My shop hasn't burned down yet. So I'm not worried about what your comments on the prices of my suits will do to my reputation." Her eyes never left his as she spoke, showing him that she meant every single word.

Another pause arose, and (Y/N) wondered if maybe she'd finally gotten through to him. Maybe he'll finally leave.

But, of course, he stayed standing in front of the counter. "Are you sure this is the path you want to take?" he gave one last try, his eyebrows raising as he tried to keep up his imposing figure. It was more then obvious that said figure wasn't working on (Y/N) though.

"Are you going to pay for the suit, Mr. Thorsby?" she asked him, no longer wanting to entertain his theatrics, her eyes still locked onto his. It became even more apparent as each second passed that she wasn't going to change her mind on this.

"You'll regret this, Mrs. Shelby," he finally conceded, but not without throwing one last threat out there.

"As will you, Mr. Thorsby. Have a nice day," she nodded, still unfazed by all of it as her dismissive goodbye made him turn and exit her shop. She stood stoic and watched as the door shut behind him. Only when she was finally alone did she shake her head and let out a huff. "Prick," she muttered to herself before she tore the ledger sheet out of the book and crumbled it up.

"Do you remember Elliot Thorsby?" (Y/N) asked as she moved over to the mantlepiece in Tommy's office later that evening.

"Course I do," Tommy responded without up looking from the paper he was reading, "what about him?"

"He came for his fitting today," she started, grabbing one of the decanters and an empty glass so that she could pour herself a drink.

"And?" he asked for more information, finally looking up at her just as she spun to face him.

(Y/N) didn't answer right away, instead bringing the glass up to her lips and taking a healthy swig from it. She hissed at the burn that accompanied the whiskey as it slid down her throat and tried her best to smile at her husband. Tommy raised his eyebrows at her as he removed the glasses from the bridge of his nose, now waiting intently for her to share something with him.

(Y/N) brought the glass back up to her lips and held it there as she let the silence linger for a little bit longer. She didn't quite know why she was waiting so long...maybe she enjoyed watching him as he tried to hold his intent composure. "I don't think you should work with him anymore," she finally told him.

"Why not?" he immediately asked for more information.

"He felt that he should pay less for his suit because of his connection to you; felt that I should honor your relationship and then threatened me when I wouldn't adhere to his tactics," she happily told him about her interaction with the businessman.

"He threatened you?" Of course this was the part of her statement that Tommy fixated on.

"Well he tried to...the threats didn't really take," she shrugged, finishing the rest of her glass.

"What did he say to you?" he was still hung up on it.

"Tommy it was nothing," she brushed his worry off. His expression didn't change. (Y/N) let out a sigh before she began walking in his direction. "He told me that I'd lose my clients because he has influence," she told him as she stopped in front of where he was sitting. He looked up at her with raised eyebrows as he turned the chair in her direction. She took that as her signal to sit on his lap. He went back to staring straight ahead once she sat. It didn't take long for her to notice that he still wasn't completely convinced. "Tommy..." she trailed off, taking hold of his chin so that he'd be looking at her again, "what're you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that maybe I should go have a word with him."

"I told you it's fine. I handled it, and I'm not worried about what he's claiming he'll do," she assured him. A smile creeped onto (Y/N)'s features as she thought of something else to add. "Besides, it's not like he threatened me with arson...like this one client I had.”

Tommy couldn't stop the grin from forming as he immediately realized what she was hinting at. “Who’d threaten something like that, hmm?” he questioned, playing along with her.

“Someone who really wanted to try his luck,” she answered, letting go of his chin so that she could wrap her arms around his neck.

“I’d say the risk paid off,” he wagered, his hold on her tightening slightly so that he could pull her even closer.

“It seems like it did,” she agreed, leaning in and pressing her lips to his.

Their kiss was short, and he was soon parting from her to share the next move that he’d thought up. “Any business with Thorsby will be finished tomorrow.”

“Stop thinking about him and kiss me, Tommy,” she responded, her lips brushing against his as she spoke.

He chuckled at her abrupt statement and wasted no time in doing what she asked him to. His lips were back on hers within seconds, and Elliot Thorsby was the furthest thing from each of their minds.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @deadcrowcalling

MASTERLIST

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shots III

Magdalena Eriksson x Child!Reader

Fridolina Rolfö x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You need a flu shot

"So they just jab it in?" Frido asks over dinner, mouth open and eyes wide.

"Yeah," Magda says, nodding furiously," Needle out and just jabbed in." She demonstrates with her hand. "It's the worst. It hurts her super bad."

"That's awful. You'd think they'd find a pain-free version to deliver vaccines. But she's all caught up, right?"

Magda shakes her head. "I forgot to take her to get her flu shot before we left Germany. Pernille's so mad at me."

"But we're only in camp, right? There's no way she's going to sick. I mean-"

Frido's cut off by a loud sneeze from Filippa followed by a brutal round of coughing.

"Pernille's going to kill you."

Magda groans, burying her head in her hands. "I've arranged with the team doctors to give Princesse her shot here."

"But..." Frido frowns. "She won't like it here anymore if we make her get shots!"

"I think that's Pernille's plan," Magda replies," If we give Princesse shots here then she'll stop wanting to come. It's genius."

"It's rude."

"Still genius though."

Frido sighs loudly, shaking her head. "I can't believe you put us in this position, Magda! Why couldn't you have just taken her to get her shot in Germany?"

"It slipped my mind!"

"Well now she's going to slip away from Sweden!" Frido continues," We can't let her start going back to Denmark! She'll want to play for their team soon enough! We can't lose her!"

"I know!" Magda replies," But I also don't want to lose Princesse privileges and that will definitely happen if we don't take her to get her shot."

"This is awful," Frido bemoans," I can't believe it's come to this."

Zećira, who had been silent through the entire conversation, sighs. "You're so dramatic."

Dramatic or not, Magda is forced to take you to get your flu shot. Pernille might actually kill her if she doesn't and Frido tags along for the ride, supposedly to remind you of all the great things Sweden has that Denmark hasn't like IKEA and Zećira.

"I know Zećira is here," You tell Frido as Magda leads you into the doctor's office," She's always here."

"I know," Frido says," But just remember how much you like being taught by Zećira."

"I know that!" You say, cheeks puffed out in annoyance," You're being weird!"

Before Frido can defend herself though, Magda hauls you up onto the little bed set up in the room.

"So," The nice doctor man says," Just a flu shot, is that right?"

"That's right."

"Morsa forgot to take me when we were in Germany," You tell him, much to Magda's embarrassment," Momma yelled at her for ages and ages and ages and ages-"

"She's never had a reaction to them before?" The doctor asks Magda.

"-And ages and ages and ages-"

"No reactions," Magda confirms, feeling a sense of nausea creeping in," She's always been fine with them."

"-And ages and ages!" You finish," And Morsa had to sleep on the sofa and I took her space in the Big Bed!"

The nice doctor man smiles at you. "That sounds cool." He wheels himself closer. "Can you open your mouth for me, please?"

You do as you're told and he inspects your throat before moving his hands to check your neck hasn't swelled up. He checks your temperature too and whatever he finds satisfies him because he wheels away to get the medicine Morsa said you were getting given today.

Frido has to hold her breath. it's been a long time since she's had to have any shots herself. She's forgotten what they look like.

Tears already start building in her eyes as the doctor brings out the syringe, uncapping the top.

It doesn't look sharp. In fact it doesn't look like any needle Frido's ever seen before and that makes it so much worse.

It doesn't look like it would easily go into skin so it's definitely going to hurt you a lot.

She sucks in a ragged gasp for air before holding her breath again.

"Have you ever had this done before?" The nice doctor man asks and you nod your head.

"Momma took me last year!"

"And did it look like this?"

You study it for a moment. "Uh-huh."

"Well, it looks like you're a pro. You ready?"

"Yes."

To Frido and Magda's horror, he positions the syringe in your nose, releasing the vaccine quickly before turning to do the same with your other nostril.

"I...I think I feel sick," Frido says, clutching her tummy.

She doesn't know why you're not crying. It must have hurt much more to have the needle jabbed into your nose twice.

She had no idea doctors were working out ways to make kids hate having shots even more.

"All done!" The doctor says," Would you like a sticker?"

"Yes, please!"

You choose a sticker with a kitten on it, slamming it straight onto your shirt before jumping down from the bed.

Frido and Magda are still clutching each other, traumatised from what they've just witnessed.

You frown. "You're both being weird. It was just a spray."

Magda freezes. "Huh?"

"I makes my nose all tingly but I'm fine!" You give them both a beaming smile.

"A spray?"

"Yes," The doctor says," We've started to move away from giving young children actually injections to help against flu. The nasal spray is much more effective...and painless."

[russellsppttemplates]

Did you lose her? (Lando Norris)

Maybe it was never a change of heart

Note: english is not my first language. It's angsty with a happy ending, and it's also the first piece that's I've written that's based of a song, Stick Season by Noah Kahan. I hope I did it well enough! 🫶 also, it has smut, and if you have followed me for long enough, you know I don't usually do it, but I think it's these AUS pics 😮‍💨😌🥵

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: curse words, previous break-up and themes related to that, smut (mentions protected sex, hormonal contraception, praise kink if you squint at the whole thing)

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed

Doing the food shop was one one of the mundane adult life tasks you actually enjoyed doing. You had some music on your ears and walked along the supermarket, making sure you weren't buying too much outside of your list.

Tomato sauce and two packets of the instant noodles for when you didn't feel like cooking or were in a rush, you told yourself as you browsed through the aisle.

The scent should've been the first give away, but lots of people wore the same perfume. However, not all of them had the characteristic underlying scent that to this day meant comfort.

"Y/N! I wasn't expecting to see you", Cisca said as he placed the item she took from the shelf on her shopping cart, "goodness, how long has it been since we've seen you?", she smiled sadly.

Five months, you thought. One hundred and fifty two days since you and Lando parted ways and you shipped your belongings back to England. You told yourselves it was amicable and that you'd still be there for eachother, but you had published your first article and he had started his season without the other by your side.

"It's been some time, yes. How are you?", you wondered, "we've been good, you know how busy it gets around this time of year. But Savannah had their little girl, Athena - let me show you a picture!", she scrambled her phone out of her bag.

"Oh, how cute!", you cooed at the little baby bundled up in a pink blanket, "Mila is such a good big sister, too!", she showed you a picture with the two of them in Lando's lap, the baby tucked safely into his chest as Mila seemed to be showing him one of her toys.

Gulping and swallowing the tears that threatened to fall, you looked up at her and smiled, "I'm glad everyone is doing good - send Oliver and Sav my congratulations!", you nodded, hoping she would get the hint.

Storing her phone back in her bag, Cisca smiled, resembling the smile that you woke up many times to, "I will, darling. All the best for you, hopefully we'll see you around", she said before rubbing your back soothingly.

You found an aisle without people and allowed yourself to cry. Just for a little bit before you had to go back to pretend it didn't hurt still.

And I'll dream each night of some version of you

That I might not have, but I did not lose

"I'm on the podium, dad!", Lando yelled as he hugged Adam, cackling in excitement as he hugged the team who were there to celebrate and congratulate him.

"Congratulations, baby!", you yelled as Lando turned to hug you, arms going around your waist and pulling you as close as the safety barriers allowed, clicking open his visor so you could look at your favourite eyes in the world.

"I love you so much, Y/N!", he yelled back, winking before he went up to get weighed in.

On the podium, he looked at you like you two were the only people there, smiling up at him as he blew you a kiss.

"I knew you'd be on the podium, baby", you smiled once you were back in his driver's room, "How are you so sure?", he wondered, kissing your neck soflty.

"The development they're doing, your talent, Lando, I knew it was going to happen, and from now on, you better get used to being up there every single weekend", you smirked, kissing from his throat to his jaw and up to his lips, humming when his tongue poked at your lips begging for entrance.

It was hot and he was sweaty. His phone read 4:30am as he stood up against the headboard, finding the light switch so he wouldn't walk around the hotel room in complete darkness.

It was the third night in a row you showed up in his dreams. The first time, it was subtle as he dreamed about flying on plane and he was sure you were there. The past two, however, had you in there as a main character. He dreamed of walking in the paddock with you, of having you there to comfort him and knock some sense in his head when his P4 in qualifying didn't feel enough, and now you were celebrating his podium.

It's weird how his brain went there, how his arms and face felt like they had truly been holding you despite not having done it in months. Muscle memory betrayed, he thought as he poured himself some water and took little sips of it as he looked outside the window.

Fuck, he missed you. And not just for these big moments where he was on a high and wanted to share it with you or when he was do low you were the only person that could make him crawl out of the dark hole he snuck himself into. It's when he's making his bed back home and the other pillow remains fluffed because no one's using it, it's the mug you left behind and he doesn't have the courage to send back to you or give to someone else or when he sees something that reminds him of you and he gets it, hoping one day he can get them to you.

You once called me forever, now you still can't call me back

Lando sighed again as the call went to voicemail. It was the third time it happened in the last couple of hours. It was media day at Suzuka and they were having lunch.

"You know it's 3 am back in England, right?", Oscar asked bluntly, "when we were having breakfast, sure, you might have got hold of her if she was doing a late night, but I think you should wait", he reasoned.

Oscar was right. He didn't want to risk it waking you up even though he was sure your phone was on silent since you loved your sleep dearly.

"I hate this", Lando muttered, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. Oscar was aware of some of what had happened between Lando and you. The start of the season always came with new gossip and this one's was filled with rumours and conspiracy theories about the paddock's sweetheart and young couple.

Lando started driving in Formula One when he was nineteen, so they had seen his grow up through the years along with your relationship. At first, you were pinned down as his sister, then a best friend when they realised you didn't share genetics, and then you were his girlfriend. The lingering touches and big smiles they caught never rushed you to admit your feelings or put a label on your relationship, but everyone was there when you walked hand in hand on the paddock and confirmed the suspicions they had for months. Lando Norris and his best friend were in love and they all felt like proud parents as they watched you support him unconditionally every time you could.

"Did you lose her?", Oscar quesioned his team-mate as he picked on the food on his plate.

"I don't have her with me, have I?", Lando snapped and regretted it almost immediately.

Oscar put it down to tiredness, jet lag and the fact that he seemed a bit lost on how he was navigating the situation, "What I'm saying is, did you lose her? Did you do your absolute best to keep her with you?", he said sternly, "Used all of the options and possibilities and it still didn't work out? You don't lose someone because things fell apart in a stressful situation", he reasoned.

He was young but not dumb, truly.

"Feels like I have though", Lando added.

"What I'm saying is if you really want to know how she is and if you want to have an honest conversation with her, you have to make an effort. Not just calling and asking your mother to see if she's spotted her lately, or your sisters to check in your circle of friends whether or not she has moved on", Oscar lectured.

"Do you think I can do it? Do I have what it takes?", Lando confessed his doubts out loud. One of the reasons he had yet to act on it was because having a second chance wasn't for everyone and he needed to make sure it went perfect. You deserved that.

"You're a Formula One driver with deep pockets and a massive heart that still belongs to someone. What can't you do?", the young australian driver mused before he got up, taking his plate with him and leaving Lando pondering about what to do next.

I hope this pain's just passin' through

You sang loudly as you dusted the living room shelves, windows open to let the autumn air in. While cleaning wasn't your favourite thing to do, you had woken up with an urge to clean and given that it happened very rarely, you were taking it in stride.

So far, you found a receipt of a pair of jeans you were meant to return but gave your friends instead, a concert ticket and a bigger amount of dust than you'd like to admit. When you pulled the fabric strap, though, you knew that you wouldn't want to get rid of it. The lanyard belonged to one of the passes for one of the Grand Prix weekend you went to see Lando. Inspecting it closer, you realised it was his second home race, the Polaroid picture attached to it confirming the date.

It started with you joking about the fact that the pass was not the prettiest, so Lando hunted down the paddock to find a Polaroid camera, snapping a picture of you two and pinching a hole on it so you could carry it around and cover the supposed ugly pass. The photo was still intact, just a little dusty as you wiped it with your sleeve. Lando was kissing your cheek as you smiled impossibly big, eyes squinty and smile beaming because of the guy whose lips were on your cheek.

A single teardrop fell on the plastic covered paper before a few more followed as you sat down, looking at what you had once been and how things were right now. The missed calls on your phone led you to believe that maybe he still felt something too, but the potential heartache of trying again and it not working would hurt more than it already does.

The vibration from watch caught your attention as you read the two notifications. One from your e-mail with Qatar Airways written in bold and a text from Lando.

Qatar Airways

Thank you for choosing to fly with Qatar Airways!

Lando ✨️

I need you here with me, Y/N, please

I made the flight reservation for you, they will hold the ticket until two hours before the flight leaves, you just have to confirm with your passport ❤️

You promised me that I was more than all the miles combined

Heathrow Airport, 7th October 2023, 6:30 am.

You couldn't back out now, that would mean Lando would lose the money he spent to get you here in the first place. It wasn't by all means quiet, but your thoughts were loud enough.

You shouldn't be here. Why were you here? Why did you accept this, Y/N?

Because Lando needed you there.

Simple as that.

Boarding the flight, you smiled and thanked as the flight attendant pointed to the area where your seat was and where you would spend the next six hours and a half.

"I'm sorry, our seats are by the window", a woman in her thirties said as she bounced a little girl on her hip, making you get up so she could get to it, "thank you", she smiled, sitting down and buclking herself and her daughter to her body.

"Lyla, you can't go pulling on other people's clothes - I'm so sorry", she apoligised as the little girl pulled on your shirt's detailed button buckle.

"No worries, I know how restless they can get. You do the best for your baby. You're only responsible for yours and her emotions, no one else's on this plane", you offered her, remembering the times you would take flights and fully grown adults would go up to a stressed parent to let them know they could hear their crying child as if the parents themselves didn't know.

"My husband is somewhere in there, too", she chuckled, sometimes I feel I'm responsible for his too - accountantable in a way at least", she chuckled.

"You weren't able to sit together?", you wondered.

"My husband planned the weekend to go watch a race and come back, but we found some holiday days and we decided on a spontaneous trip. This was the only seat left they had", she explained.

"I can change seats if you want", you offered, "I'm flying on my own and I'll get to the destination all the same", you giggled.

"You wouldn't mind?", she asked, relief settling over her as she tried to see her husband, waving at him to come closer as you touched the button to call the flight attendant as the passengers were all sat down on your section.

"This lovely young woman says she doesn't mind switching seats with you", she said to her husband as you spoke to the flight attendant.

"No, there's no problem with that if you both agree", the flight attendant smiled as you got up, ignoring the frown on the man next to you who had to get up so you could swap, "bye bye, Lyla!", you waved at the little girl before her parents thanked you once again.

Finding your new seat, you put your bag under the seat in front and sat down, excusing yourself to the older couple next to you, "I just swapped seats with the gentleman that was here, I'm sorry", you smiled, hoping they wouldn't be too mad.

"Oh, he was able to sit with his family after all - I told you, Harold!", the lady winked at her husband, "I'm Francesca, you can call me Fran", she said sweetly.

Despite the early flight, they both seemed to be full of energy as they started telling you stories of their life and family, showing pictures of their kids and grandkids.

"One day you'll have all of that with the person you love, darling - if that's something you want, of course!", Harold peeped in, "our granddaughters are always telling me not everyone wants the same things!", he chuckled softly.

"It's okay - I would like that, actually", you smiled sadly as Francesca landed her hand on top of yours.

"Why does that sound like a confused heart, dear?", she commented, reading you like a book. The flight was closer to be three quarters of the way to the destination, so you still had some time to kill.

"A little bit; I'm actually flying over to see the person who still has this confused heart", you mumbled.

"Your eyes sparkle when you talk about him, dear - something tells me he's going to 'unconfuse' your heart", she smiled, "tell me about him".

"Godness", you chuckled, "He's kind, respectful, honest, goofy, cute, charming, loving, he's all that is good. We just lost our way, I think", you recalled, smiling at the thought of him.

"You'll find it back, dear. Life has mysterious ways but it has the right ways - I like to believe it does, anyway", the older lady assured, squeezing your hand in hers.

Waving goodbye to Harold and Francesca when you found the taxi bay, you requested to be taken to the paddock.

When you got there, you payed the kind driver before he helped you take your suitcase from the boot, "enjoy the race!", he smiled.

You were thankful all eyes were on the track already, making you cross the whole paddock and step into McLaren's hospitality quickly after collecting your pass.

"Y/N!", Zak said as he was the first person to spot you, "you're here, you came!", he smiled, hugging you tightly, "we're all very happy you're here", he said as he asked one of the team members to store your suitcases somewhere appropriate before leading you to the corridor to the drivers' rooms.

"Lando is inside, and the race starts in less than ninety minutes, so you won't talk all you need to, but it's a good start", he said, knocking on the door before he left.

When Lando heard the knock, he hoped it was you. Sophie and Oscar were great people, but in the last hour, everytime he opened the door, theirs were the faces he saw instead of yours.

"Y/N", he welcomed you into his room before closing the door, "I hope it's okay that I flew you here, thank you for coming", he said as he hesitated on giving you a hug.

Taking a step forward, you laced your arms around his waist as he did the same around your shoulders, inhaling eachother's scent and feeling like a weight was lifted off both of you, "I missed you so much, Y/N", he whispered before you pulled apart.

"It's not the first time you've done that for me", you fumbled with your hands, "although I was very surprised. We haven't spoken to eachother in some time, Lando", you sterned.

"Not because I didn't try", he bit bat with an ironic chuckle, "Why did you come here then?", he defended, taking your words as immediate offense and not taking a second to process them properly.

"Because even though we're not together anymore, you matter to me. I care about you! I'm not sure what monster you depict me as or that you imagine I've turned into, but I wouldn't dream of wishing you misery! If you call me and tell me you need me here, I'll be here because I care about you!", you snapped, "you have no idea how many times I wanted to give up and cancel this! Why am I here, Lando?", you asked.

You didn't expect him to react that way, not that you had a much better reaction anyway.

"Fuck, this is not how we do this", you took a deep breath as Lando held your hands in his, mimicking your movements as he did the same. Three long deep breaths, in and out, in and out, in and out.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that", Lando began, hands laced on yours still, "thank you for bring here, I needed you here because there's no one else in the world that can make me feel comfortable like you do, and I need that. I need to feel like myself - and I know it's a selfish ask to make you get up and drop your things to be here with me but-", you interrupted him.

"It's okay, Lando, you're okay", you cooed, searching for his eyes and hoping you'd get the message your mouth was failing to say through.

You pulled him to sit in front of you in the massage table, "I've been seeing all the podiums you've been getting - the team have done such a great job developing, and your talent and skills have brought it to the podium", you tried a lighter subject even though you were 99% sure of his worries.

"Oscar still qualified above me", he began, "He's a rookie and he's managed to do in months what I haven't done in five years", he allowed himself to express his feelings. After all, it was you.

"Oscar is not driving a tractor like you were", you shrugged your shoulders as Lando laughed.

"For someone who was invited last minute and got a pretty good pass, I'm not sure how the team would feel about you talking like that", he smirked, hand finding your own as he rubbed his thumb on your palm.

"I'm only telling the truth", you smiled, "and I mean it. I know how this sport works, but you shouldn't compare yourself to your teammate when the circumstances are so different", you mused.

"The team have been great and they still haven't said anything", he reasoned.

"Of course they haven't because it's something that happens, Lando. I was watching the highlights and so many drivers went over the limits because that's how this track goes", you stated, "there's only so much you can do and you shouldn't put all that pressure on yourself", you tsked, "I know you do, but you shouldn't", you smiled.

"You always know what to say, don't you?", he chuckled, "I have an inkling on how this here works", you winked and tapped his head with your free hand.

A knock on the door interrupted your moment as Jon opened it right after, "Lando, we need to start prepping for the sprint", he said before he turned to you, "Hi Y/N, good to have you back!", he smiled before he let you finish what you were doing.

"I should go, then", Lando trailed off, "are you going to browse around the paddock? I bet a lot of people miss you and your face here", he nudged.

"I came here for you, I don't care about anyone else", you smiled as you leaned over to press a kiss on his cheek for a few seconds, smiling against his warm skin before grabbing your bag and walking out.

Most of the team must've known you were coming since not many of them took a second look whenever you greeted them or entered a different area.

One of the media girls got you a set of headphones as she stood next to you, Oscar and Lando getting ready to go to the track.

His routine hadn't changed as your eyes followed him while he got dressed appropriately and safely for the race.

Before Lando put his helmet on he looked back at you, winking and smiling when you winked back.

When the gap wasn't closing in, you knew Lando would be disappointed with P3, not because of the place itself but because his team-mate had done better.

As you moved to a better spot to watch the interviews on the media pen, your heart felt like someone was using it like a trampoline, jumping and stomping on it as Lando spoke about himself with such a negative tone.

Surely, the interviewers were fishing for answers with biased questions and his mind took him there.

As you waited for him to be back to the hospitality, you got yourself something to eat, realising you hadn't done it since the plane.

Lando was beating himself up and he couldn't shake the bad mood he was in even when he thought you had travelled to see him and be there for him.

As Sophie gave him a quick debrief about his interviews, he stepped into his driver's room so he could have a quick shower and then head to the team debrief.

"It wouldn't hurt going up to her, you know?", Jon told him, ready to take any harsh words first if it meant you didn't hear them.

"I know it wouldn't, I'm just going to eat something and then I'll join the debrief with the rest of the team", Lando mumbled as he walked up to you.

"Hey", he said sitting down on the sofa next to you.

"Hey, Lando", you said, testing the waters and approaching his body until you rested your head on his shoulder.

"You are going to get your win, Lando. It's going to be an amazing weekend and it's going to be your first. Surely important, but you'll be a race winner and go on to the next race", you said as he seemed to be unsure of the tone you were going for, "as that will be a big moment in a long career - because it won't define it - this doesn't define you either, as a person and as a driver", you concluded, hoping to bring a little bit of his confidence and self-esteem back up a little.

"And you're going to be there?", he asked. He was feeling like shit and needed to know. It wasn't fair, but he needed to know.

"I can't make promises like that, not before we speak properly", you remarked, looking up at him from where you were, kissing his cheek and squeezing his hand in yours, "do you want me to stay here or should I go back to the hotel?", you asked. It wasn't the right time or the right place to talk about it.

"Could you stay here, please?", he said as you took your book out of your bag, knowing it would run long and you'd need some entertainment as there was only so much catching up you could do with the team when they're suppose to be working.

"I will, then", you said as Lando took the plunge and kissed the top of your head.

Ten chapters and a tea later, Lando tapped your shoulders, "I'm finished, are we ready to go?", he asked as you got up accepting his hand to hold as you walked out of the hospitality, grabbing your suitcase from the storage room and bidding goodbye to the team.

"I couldn't get a separate room for you, but the room I'm staying in has this living room area and the sofa opens into a bed, they said it's really comfy and they also left an extra mattress topper and some blankets", Lando said as he drove, "in case you didn't feel comfortable, I- I just want you to feel comfortable", he emphasised nervously.

"Lando, you don't need to walk on eggshells, okay? It's me", you smiled reassuringly as he stole a quick look at you before focusing back on the road, "sounds like a nice solution, fine by me", you reassured him.

Leaving the car to the valet and taking the lift up with you, you stayed silent until you were inside the hotel room, "That's the bedroom area, bathroom's here - and it has a double sink - and then the living room", Lando patted the extra linen folded on the sofa.

"Thank you", you assented, "would you like to talk now or is it bad timing? You must be tired f,-".

"Yes, please", he agreed immediately sitting on the sofa and making room for you to sit in front of him.

"I don't know where to begin", you observed after a while, "it's been tough being without you - I have been so used to having you there for me and to be there for you that nothing quite has the same meaning. I can live without you - barely, but I can -, that's not the question, but I don't want to", you manifested.

"We ended things because we had to, and it did us both well to see from another perspective - that's what it felt for me anyway -, but I want to be with you and to have you with me", he elaborated, "I don't care if you have to spend more time back home because of the distance, or come with me to the races because of the distance, too, I-".

"It was never about the distance, Lando", you interjected. You both used that excuse way too many times but deep down you knew it wasn't because of it.

"We'll work it out then", Lando suggested, "we'll work on us because knowing eachother doesn't mean we don't have to put ourselves first and keep investing on our relationship. I value you so much Y/N, I love you so much and I want to do this right", he whispered as if he spoke any louder would disturb the moment.

"I love you too", you smiled as you laced your hands together, "we'll work on it, together".

It was already late so Lando offered you the bathroom so you could shower and do your night routine first and then make the sofa bed to your liking while he did his night routine.

"Good night, angel", Lando said after you hugged him goodnight, kissing the top of your head before letting you lie down first since the light on his bedside table was the only one illuminating the room.

After you cocooned yourself in the sheets comfortably, you spoke up, "Lando, I'm sorry I didn't answer back sooner", you apoligised.

"It's okay, love, you don't have to worry about that", he cooed softly and you could hear the smile on his voice.

"I know it's not, but thank you for making me feel better about it, goodnight", you smiled, feeling hopeful about it.

The next morning, you were woken up by the noise coming from the bathroom, assuming Lando was showering inside as you stretched, surprised at how well you slept. Maybe the bedding was genuinely nice, the sofa bed wasn't bad to begin with, especially considering the hotel you were staying in, or maybe it was the fact that for the first time in months, you fell asleep knowing the person who your heart belonged to was more than happy to let you keep his, too, and he was in the same space as you.

"Good morning, beautiful", Lando smiled as he noticed you were awake already, "did you sleep well?".

"Good morning, Lan", you yawned, "I did, really well, actually. At what time do we have to be at the track?", you wondered. It was a night race, so the call up was later than usual.

"I'm leaving after breakfast, but you can stay and head there later if you want", Lando declared as you walked up to him, "I just need to freshen up and get ready", you smiled, kissing his cheek and heading for the bathroom with your clothes.

As soon as you arrived at the track, you took one of the back entrances as you knew Lando would spend some time with the fans and other drivers he bumped into, finding a nice spot on the lounge and going back to your book.

"I'm going to start race prep", Lando stopped by you in the lounge after a quick meeting, "I probably won't talk to you much until afterwards so I just came to check on you", he reasoned.

Getting up, you moved to one of the corridors, leaning up to kiss his forehead softly, "Good luck, my love, you're going to do so well, I know it", you smiled against his skin.

"I have my lucky charm with me", he smirked, kissing the top of your head before he got back to Jon.

From P10 to P3, Lando had an eventful race. Fortunately, and compared to the rest of the grid, he seemed to be doing fairly well as he stood in front of AC Units while replenishing the water he lost during the fifty-seven laps.

"I'm so proud of you!", you cooed as he got back to the garage, shaking hands with all the mechanics and engineers before he got to you. You hugged his sweaty body, not caring about it as long as you felt his close to you.

"They're postponing race debrief so I'm going to shower quickly and then we can get going, beautiful", he smiled, kissing a spot on your cheek very close to your lips.

Smiling giddily, you went to the bar area to get a bottle of water for yourself as Sophie walked last you, "seems like we will be seeing a lot more of you again soon - maybe Zak can also hire you as our lucky charm!", she winked as you shook your head, blood rushing to your cheeks at her words.

Back in the hotel room, it was your turn to freshen up and get ready to sleep. The spirits were high and you were feeling like the wait time was over. Your heart was healed enough as you sat on Lando's bed, "I'm so proud of you, you had an incredible drive tonight", you smiled as you moved closer to him as he sat on the edge, back against the headboard and one leg on the mattress while the other hung beside the mattress.

"It felt so good", he smiled, "thank you for supporting me", he cupped your cheek as he silently asked you for permission to kiss your lips. Lando couldn't waste anymore time as he pulled you to him so he could kiss you properly, your legs on either side of his as you straddled him, revelling in the feeling of being in eachother's hold as your hands played with his hair while his held your waist.

"As much as I'd love to continue this, I'm exhausted, baby", he rubbed your thighs, "it's okay, my love, I wasn't thinking of letting you do anything else anyway", you smiled, kissing his nose softly before you got on one knee so you could flop to the side and land on the mattress.

"Sleep here, yes?", he mused and you nodded, undoing the bed and getting under the sheets, his arm holding you to him and making sure he didn't let go.

As if you'd leave anyway.

4.30am and Lando woke up again. This time however, the sight he longed to see was right there. The you he had and had got back, cuddled up to his chest as your leg was hoisted up on top of his own and very close to his aching cock.

As he tried to change the angle so every time you moved, your smooth skin wouldn't pratically tease him, you stirred in your sleep, eyes opening as he tried to adjust your knee.

"Is everything alright, baby? Am I hurting you?", you said as you recoiled from his body.

"No, angel, no!", he quickly guaranteed, "I'm sorry I woke you up, it's just that your knee was very close to me and I was having a hard time dealing with it".

"A hard time indeed", you snickered as you felt his hard-on strained on his Calvin Kleins. Dating after being friends for so long brought an easy joking side to your relationship so much easier and funnier as you wouldn't get offended with most of what you said to eachother, "need help with that?", you smirked.

"But I wanted to treat you", Lando pouted, "Can I, gorgeous girl?", he whispered as he kissed up your neck once you whispered "yes", hands roaming on your body as he pulled up your nightshirt, finding your nipples and twisting them slightly to work your body up the way you did with his.

Your sighs and whimpers let him know he was doing a good job as undressed your torso, littering small kissed from your throat to your tummy, "you're so gorgeous, Y/N, I can't believe you're mine", he said as he blew a raspberry on your tummy, earning giggles from you before he licked up a stripe near your panties line.

"You know how much I like it when you wear your pink panties", he voiced as he touched you over the cotton fabric, feeling you pulsate already, "Do you like it when I tease you over your pink panties, baby?".

"Yes", you scrambled out betwen moans and deep breaths, "Oh my Goodness, princess", he cooed as you squirmed, "You want me to fill this pussy up?", he wondered as you let out a yes followed but a deep mewling sound.

"Let me take a little peek, then", as his fingers pushed the fabric down, a string of wetness caught in the material as he smiled, "Oh my Goodness, look at this pretty little pink pussy", he kisses your clit, "all of you, you're se beautiful, baby".

Rubbing the inside of your thighs with his thumbs, pressing the soft skin as he got rid of your underwear, "Are you going to let me fill you up?", he asked as he wouldn't do it without consent.

"Yes, please do it, Lan", you moaned, hand looking for his own to hold.

"You don't need to say please, my love - here", he whispered as he laced your hands together, "you'll always have me, you hear me? I'm yours, sweet girl", he smiled.

His hand that wasn't securely laced in yours helped you take his underwear off before he came back up to kiss your lips softly.

"Does it feel good when I tease your clit like that, gorgeous?", he smirked as he ran the tip of his cock in your sensitive bud, "Yes - uhg, baby", you gasped, looking into his eyes and swearing you could get lost in them had you not been in such a state of arousal as you were.

"You look so pretty like this, my beautiful, sweet girl", he praised as he saw your twitches and heard your moans at his words, "we need protection, though", he stated.

"I'm good, didn't see anyone else - you?", you wondered as he shook his head, "didn't see anyone else either - condom?", he asked, making you nod and separate so he could get it from his toiletries bag. Hormonal contraception left you feeling worse that it made your life easier, so you and Lando always used condoms.

Rolling it down his shaft, Lando climbed back in the bed and kissed your lips, adjusting himself before he entered you.

You whimpered as Lando slid inside you, a low groan escaping from his throat as he gently slid, taking your hand back in his and resting them next to your head on the pillow.

"You feel so good for me, sweet girl, so wet so warm, so good - aah", he breathed out, "so tight, my sweet sweet girl", he squeezed his eyes shut at the feeling of your walls squeezing him.

You stretched your arm out enough to pull his face closer to yours, kissing his jaw and then his lips before whispering "you can move, love".

Lando pulled back slowly, thrusting in gently to begin with and savouring how you felt around him.

"I love you", you muttered into his neck between moans as he picked up the pace, thrusting into you faster, harder and deeper.

"I'm close", Lando groaned as he felt your walls clench around him, his hand crawling between your bodies and drawing lazy circles on your clit to get you to your release.

"Me too, feels so good, I feel so good", you moaned out, a high pitch one particularly when you felt the band was about to snap.

“My sweet girl, my beautiful sweet girl, are you going to come for me?”, Lando worked you up as your body started to show signs of it, "let go, my love, I'm here, I've got you”, he soothed, still gently rubbing your clit with one hand and keeping hold of the other.

Your back arched, sensitive nipples rubbing against his skin, as you came with a high-pitched whine, nuzzling your face on his thick neck as you came undone around him. Lando came soon after, his hand that was not holding yours groping your waist as he groaned.

“Good, sweet girl, that was good, you did so well for me. I’ve got you, it's okay", he assured as he felt you flutter around him, probably from overstimulation considering neither of you had been with anyone else and you hadn't slept a full night yet, the tiredness he felt also a cause for how quickly he finished.

Lando kissed your forehead sweetly before he pulled out, getting up and throwing out the condom on the bathroom bin before he cane back to you on the bed.

"Let's put this on, yeah?", he whispered soflty as he helped you put on his linen shirt, buttoning it enough to let you breathe but still feel hugged by the fabric, and then a clean pair of underwear he got from your suitcase.

Before he laid in bed with you again, he put on his own underwear, pulling you to his arms and then pulling the crisp white covers over you.

"Do you feel good, baby?", he asked once you were cuddled up to him, "yes, I do", you smiled, a mixture of post sex glow and being back in his arms.

"Thank you for not giving up on us, I love you, sweet girl", Lando said as he played with your fingers, bringing them up to his mouth so he could kiss every single one of them, "you're the best thing in my life", he mumbled, letting you drift off to sleep.

[angelicabunny]

ᡣ𐭩 Make It Up

tags: bf!matt x fem!reader

warnings: smut, fem receiving, p in v, oral, use of baby, i lowkey forgot how to fucking tag .

summary: you and matt get in a fight so he decides to make it up to you ;)

word count: 1,250 (ish) words .

more under the cut

quick little a/n: i hope this is okay! i have been trying to write for so long — literal MONTHS — i’ve just been so unmotivated and busy!! i love you all so much. i was high asf while proofreading this omg.. i hope it’s not all bad .

The silence was deafening. Matt and I had just gotten into another pointless disagreement that left us both feeling shitty. All couples have their ups and downs sure, but Matt and I were arguing almost everyday now.

I don't blame him, he's been so caught up with his brothers and filming endlessly while I've been pent up in our small home.

The cold air hugs me tight as we sit on opposite sides of the couch, minding our business, neither of us daring to say a word. With the atmosphere being so quiet the sounds of a buzzing fridge fills my ear. Matt stares quietly at his phone trying to act preoccupied as I sit hugging myself and watching my own. I can see him in the corner of my eye wanting to say something, his mouth slightly moving.

"I," he says croakily before clearing his throat, "I'm sorry baby." he says his tone coated in guilt and regret.

I ignore him at first, before staring back at him with glossy doe eyes, a small, sad smile spreads across my face before I scoot closer to him on the couch. He stretches his right arm out inviting me into his chest.

As I lay my head on his warm chest he places a soft, loving kiss on my forehead, fixing my stray hairs with his gentle fingers, his other free hand making it's way shyly to my hip. I stare up at him as he watches down on me, my hand resting on his chest as my leg presses up against his lap.

"Let's not fight anymore," I whisper softly, "please."

"I promise, pretty girl." He replies in a reassuring, soothing voice, while stroking my hip before sneaking his hand under my shirt.

A trail of goosebumps follows the patterns of his fingertips on my skin, my hand cupping his stubble covered jaw as he takes my lips in passionately.

Matt pulls away with puffy lips before taking me in with his deep blue eyes, clouded with lust.

"Mmh, let me make it up to you." he says with an intoxicating voice before sinking back down on the couch to nip at the freckle on my neck.

He pulls away once again as I nod my head in response, the corners of his plump lips turning upwards. He holds my waist tight while fixing my position as he hops off the couch, kneeling down between my legs on the cold, wooden floor.

His fingertips toy with the material of my gray, baggy sweats, almost asking for permission,

“Is this okay baby?” he asks in the softest tone, his fingers hooked underneath my waist band.

I nod in response. The small gesture excites Matt and he tugs at my pants, pulling them down with my underwear, tossing them carelessly into a sad pile in the corner of the living room. My soft thighs now exposed as Matt takes in my legs with his lustful eyes.

He plants his warm hands on my thighs and he moves closer to my pulsing core. His tongue licks a long stripe up my slick while he holds eye contact, his fluffy hair sitting perfectly out of place. I gasp at his touch and my hand trails down to his hair, lightly tugging at it in response.

“Fuck Matt.” I moan softly while tipping my head back in pleasure.

He works his mouth at my sensitive clit, sucking, nipping, and licking so perfectly as he hums against me sending waves of sensation through my veins. One of his hands leaves my thigh, making its way closer to my wet pussy, he drags his slender fingers through my heat before pushing two fingers in softly.

His fingers curl perfectly inside of me, reaching places I never could on my own. I tighten my grip on his long hair as moans and mumbles spill from my lips, Matt continues to penetrate my walls and my swollen clit.

My legs shake, constricting around his head and he laughs against my pussy.

“Already close?” He says with fake sympathy while staring up at me with puffy, wet lips.

“Mmh s-so close.” I barely manage to reply with a full sentence, my back arching at the stimulation.

Matt moves away from my throbbing pussy, bringing his face closer to mine, my chest rising and falling rapidly as he presses the tent in his rough jeans against my burning clit. He hovers his lips over mine, breathing lightly.

"You taste so fuckin' good, baby." He groans against my lips before sinking into them, a light tang hitting my lips as his tongue explores my mouth.

"Matt.." I say softly, my tone drenched in lust and neediness.

My hands grips his belt, fiddling with it as i struggle to undo it. Matt laughs softly before standing up, swiftly undoing his belt and ripping it quickly out of the loops on his jeans, he tosses it to the pile of my clothes before kicking his jeans and boxers off.

"This what you want, hmm sweet girl?" He teases in a deep voice, his tip leaky and red, begging for touch. His hands make their way to the hem of my tee before ripping it over my head.

His eyes take in my bare chest, a smirk growing on his face.

"Such a bad girl, wearing nothing underneath just for me?" He says while positioning his tip at my entrance, his hand leading it through the puddle in core.

He pushes his length in, stretching me out immediately, letting a low moan out as he holds my hips supporting me, pulling me down onto his throbbing cock.

I let out a string of curses while moaning softly, my hands gripping the couch cushion for support. Matt picks up his pace, his thighs hitting mine as he penetrates my core. He lets out a quiet whimper, he icy blue eyes locked onto mine.

His hands grip my skin, tight enough to leave marks as he pushes deep inside of me. Matt lowers his head to meet mine his breath warm against my ear,

“I want you to cum for me baby,” he grunts, “leave a mess all over me.”

His words are ecstasy in my ear, he leaves a harsh kiss at my neck, my nails digging into his back as I feel myself getting closer.

“Oh God Matt.” I moan loudly.

Matt’s thrusts become sloppier, and I feel my orgasm creeping closer. My walls clamp down on his twitching cock the same way my fingers cling onto his bicep. Our moans and the sound of skin slapping bounces around the quiet room that now smells of sex.

I grip Matt tightly as my orgasm collapses over me, he thrusts harshly before spilling his warm cum into my walls.

“F-fuck.” He stutters though his gritted teeth before collapsing on top of me, my body jerking at the pleasure washing over me.

Matt kisses my lips softly while slowly pulling out and lying on the couch next to me, pulling the stray blanket over our sweaty bodies. He drags his fingers through the mixture of cum and saliva leaking from and pushes it into me, making me shake.

“No more fighting,” Matt says quietly, holding me tight, “I love you too much for that stupid shit.”

I giggle softly at his words while burying myself in his exposed chest, pressing a small kiss on his pale skin. I nod lightly, wrapping my leg around him and he squeezes me tightly.

this is actually the worst i’ve ever written 💀 i’m just tryna get back into write so bare wit me

[bbsmuts]

Mistaken Identity ft. Allissa Shin

A/N: Aaaaaand we have a special guest tonight, Miss Allissa Shin! I imagine this is something of a curveball, since I've never broken away from K-Pop idols, but here we are. I can't find fics of her ANYWHERE, so I guess it's good that I get to be the pioneer of it. Note that she will be one of the only people I write about outside of K-Pop, so don't bother requesting Taylor Swift or anything. This was another phenomenal pitch from @xiaoondc, the main contributor to my current success. It's also starting to seem like my readers are into BBC gangbangs, considering the number of pitches I have and have had that involve them. Allissa Shin looks so much like Rosé it's almost impossible to tell them apart in some photos. I'm ramping up the use of daddy and of tildes in this one at the suggestion of readers. So without further ado, I present Mistaken Identity. Forgive me if I spell her name with only one L, my brain thinks it should be spelled like that. Also prepare yourself for overly excessive use of tildes in Allissa's speech.

{Note: Any and all photos of Allissa Shin used in this work are 100% real and can be found on her Instagram, allissashin}

-상훈

Length: 5.34k

Possible TW: Bondage, spanking

Tags: Gangbang, BBC gangbang, DP, bondage, spanking, 69, cunnilingus, rimming

Allissa rapped the counter with her knuckles and traded another bill for another shot of whiskey from the bartender. She swallowed half of it, relishing in the spicy, woody taste with the subtle hint of sweet, and the burn that followed the liquor down her throat, making her wince a bit.

"Too strong?" The bartender asked, rubbing a glass with a pristinely white cloth. "I can get something lighter."

"Nah, it's perfect." She downed the rest of the shot and handed him back the shotglass, leaning back in the plush seat. "How many was that?"

"Nine." He replied, washing out her glass and drying it before it took its place in the cabinet. "Going through something?"

"Nope. Just felt like a being a little extra drunk tonight."

He chuckled. "Well, I'd advise you to be careful, Miss Shin. There are some who would take advantage of your intoxication."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

A huge, hulking black guy took the seat to her left, quickly joined by four of his buddies. From a glance in their direction, she could see that each and every one of them was not only very muscular and very attractive, and they were all wearing tank tops and sweatpants to prove it. The one closest to her had a large dragon tattooed on his right arm. She felt a distinct rush of arousal course through her, which might've been from the alcohol, but she liked it either way.

"The usual, I assume, Ekon?" The bartender asked. (I figured Ekon would be a good one because it's an Nigerian name that literally translates to "strong", which is quite fitting, considering who he is.)

"That's right. And one for all of my homies, on me." The guy on her left said in a deep, rumbling voice.

The bartender nodded and whisked away to prepare the drinks, and the guy threw a glance at Allissa.

"Oh shit, is that you, Chaeyoung? Yo guys, it's Rosie! Wassup!"

She looked over, confused, as the other guys erupted into cheers.

"Uhm...h-hi." She replied amongst the whoops. "Not to be rude or anything, but do I...know you guys?"

"Wow, after all this time you forgot about yo closest homies?" another one said, feigning tears. "Daaaamn."

'They must be mistaking me for someone else," she thought, watching them all colloquially fake being sad, during the course of which she conveniently heard all their names. 'Well...they are all really cute, I guess it couldn't hurt to play along.'

"Oh, shit, hey! I didn't recognize you guys at first!" She said in a bright tone, smiling. "Sorry about that, it's been too long!"

"Man, you gon' break a brother's heart messing 'round like that, forgettin' us." said the one directly to her left.

She laughed. "Yeah, sorry about that, E."

"Nah, you all good. Ayo!" He called to the bartender, who was still mixing the drinks. "Lemme get one for my homegirl over here too!"

He nodded and continued his mixing.

"What'd you order?" She asked.

"Girl, you don't even remember my go-to? Damn, we really ain't seen each other in a fat minute. I got all us some good shit, rum and liqueur and stuff."

"Ah." She said. "Sounds good."

"Trust him, it is good." One guy on the end tapped in. "And don't take too much, because that shit'll have you on the ground if you take one sip too many."

"Yo, remember back in high school? She couldn't handle anything!" This caused a fair amount of laughs, which needled her into speech.

"Yeah? Let's see how I am now then. I already had nine shots of Jim Beam."

"That's true." The bartender chimed in, bringing over the seven drinks. "Nine shots."

"Damn." Ekon said, accepting the drink and adjusted the chain on his neck. "Thanks, man. Somethin' musta changed since we last saw each other Chae, back then you could barely take one shot of henny. Nine shots of Jim Beam? That ain't never happenin' seven years ago."

Allissa suddenly realized something. 'Are they mistaking me for Rosé?' She thought. 'No way...well, still can't hurt to play a long a bit.'

"Well, a lot's changed in seven years." She said as the other guys calmed down, taking a small sip of her drink. "This is good."

He nodded. "Sure is. Rum, coconut liqueur, pineapple juice, orange juice, stuff like that. So how you been?"

"Pretty good. You?"

"Same. Life's been good. You ever get that modeling gig you was always after?"

"Funnily enough, I did." She had actually gotten into modeling, just not the gig he was referencing. "Pretty successful."

"Oh, so you got some bands. Nice. I got a question though, don't answer if you don't wanna."

"Go for it."

"You still a virgin?"

"Hell no." She replied immediately. Allissa didn't know whether or not Rosé was a virgin, but she certainly wasn't.

"Really?" He downed the last sip of his cocktail. "Something's changed about that attitude too. Last time we saw each other you was saying you weren't gonna lose it until you got married."

"Guess I changed my mind." She took another sip of hers.

"How many?" Another guy down the line, who'd been lying attention to the conversation said. She didn't have to ask what he meant.

"Nine." She replied.

Ekon nodded. "Respectable amount. Less than I would've expected, to be honest."

She raised an eyebrow. "I said I'm not a virgin, not that I'm a whore."

He raised his hands. "My bad, gang, my bad. So you going anywhere else tonight?"

"I wasn't planning to, but I wouldn't mind."

"You wanna come back to our place?"

She was suddenly very aware of how sheer and tight her dress was, and more aware of how the defined muscles of Ekon's arms rippled with every movement.

She didn't say anything, but he could definitely figure out the change in expression on her face.

"Well?"

"S-sure, yeah." She said, voice wavering a little.

He turned to the guy on his left. "Yo, she coming home with us. Y'all finished?"

The other one smirked, nodded, and passed the news on while Eli turned back to Allissa, a smirk on his face too.

"You finished with the drink?"

Despite her anticipation and slight nervousness, she put on a bolder face and downed the last bit of the cocktail.

"I am now."

"Alright," he said, smiling wider, grabbing his keys, and tossing the bartender a wad of bills. "Let's roll."

...

Bursting through the doors into the cool night air was refreshing after the interior of the bar. Though cozy, it was warm and a little stuffy inside. Her steps were definitely weaving a little, but she made it to Eli's car alright. A classic '69 Pontiac GTO, painted black.

"Yo! You driving?" One of the other guys called to Ekon.

"Nah, you drive, Adrian. I wanna, uh...catch up with Rosie."

Allissa took the back seat, Adrian driving and another riding shotgun, and Ekon in the back with her. The engine awoke with a roar and the headlights switched on, illuminating the dark parking lot.

"I gotta say, Chae, you been doing some developing." Ekon commented as they started down a dark boulevard.

She had a feeling she already knew what he meant, but she asked. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean..." he gestured to her body then outlined a curvaceous figure in the air with his hands.

She blushed, hitting him on his muscular arm. "Stop!"

"I ain't joking, man. I mean...damn."

She giggled. "Thank you..."

He grinned. "Really is good to see you again though, Chae."

"You too. What are we doing when we get there?"

"We gonna figure that out when we get there. But I know you ain't stupid, you could take a good guess."

One look at his expression told her all she needed to know, and she looked away, the thought causing a thrill of anticipation and a fresh wave of arousal to a certain place in her lower region. She pressed her thighs together, trying to stave off getting turned on, but she couldn't stop her gaze from wandering over to his chiseled torso, on which every line, curve, and detail was put on display by the tight white muscle shirt. She found herself unconsciously licking her lips as her gaze roved over his perfect cumgutter abs, outlined pecs, and massively ripped arms. And from what she could see, he had a hell of a package in his boxers. (I feel so gay writing this entire part💀)

"Like what you see?" Her excitement and intense gaze did not go unnoticed.

"Mm, yes, I do~" It might've been the alcohol fueling her words, but part of it was coming directly from down below.

He chortled. "Yeah, I bulked up. Been going to the gym a lot recently."

She slid a hand over his rock-hard thigh, gently squeezing the fibers which felt like steel under her fingers. She gasped in pure arousal as her hand moved onto an absolute monster of a cock, which was massive without even being erect.

"Oh my god~" She massaged the phallic behemoth and moved closer on the seat, allowing him to put his arm over her shoulders and pull her into him. His powerful grip and iron-fiber muscles around her turned her on even more. His hand moved slowly downward, caressing the soft round of her breast through the thin fabric of her dress. She gasped again softly as his index finger traced her nipple, her sensitivity kicked up by the alcohol and how purely turned on she was.

"Save it for the room, y'all," said Adrian. "Ain't no one wanna see that."

"Don't even lie, bro, you know you want a piece." Ekon fired back. "Homie try to bullshit me..." he muttered. The other shrugged and stopped talking.

It was only a short ride more before they arrived at a large, mostly White House that resembled a a palace, with marble columns and everything. Allissa, even being the owner of a not-so-humble estate herself, was shocked at the sheer size and grandeur of the mansion.

"This is where you live?" Pleasure forgotten temporarily, she pressed her face against the window and gazed like an awestruck child.

Ekon chuckled, bringing his hand down to her now-exposed ass and giving it a strong squeeze. "Yup. There's five of us, we all live in the same joint."

"Wow..." His fingers wandered a little lower, pulling up the bottom hem of her dress so her thong was exposed.

"Damn, Chae, a thong?" He chuckled a little more. "Didn't know you was gettin' yo freak on so much."

"Mmhmm~" She bit her lip at the sight of his cock hard and straining against his sweats. "Fuck, you're big..."

Undergoing a sudden change of demeanor as they pulled into the driveway, he pressed her against the seat by the neck and spoke in his deep rumble of a voice. "And you want that, don't you?"

"Yes, daddy, I do~" Her voice came out as a whimper, his dominance only serving to make her more needy. "I want it a lot~"

"Well, yo ass bouta get it, hard."

"Oh yes, please, daddy," she moaned, his hands on her making her wet. "I want it!"

Ekon had opened his mouth to say something in return when the voice in the passenger seat piped up again.

"Y'all! We are 20 feet from the damn house, hold off for a second!"

"Aight, my bad bro. But you," he said, returning his hand to her neck as she giggled at Adrian, "better keep your little slut mouth shut."

"Yes, daddy," she said submissively, getting wetter by the second. They all got out of the car and walked quickly into the house, followed by the other two from the other car. The moment they all piled in through the door and it closed, Ekon pinned her arms to the wall above her head with one hand and kissed her, tongue aggressively pushing into her mouth. She moaned, his other hand going to her neck, while other hands pulled up her dress and caressed various other parts of her. Before long she was rid of her dress and left only in her bra and panties.

They backed off momentarily to admire her curvy, sexy figure. After a few "damn"s, they converged once more and she was pinned against the wall again.

She bit her lip as hands slipped into her panties and bra, teasing her sensitive spots and making her moan. Her hands, helplessly held above her head, twisted and writhed as multiple fingers plunged into her entrance, teased her sensitive clit, and rubbed over her nipples, assaulting her senses from every side. It had been a while since she had anyone, and she found herself quickly approaching her first orgasm.

"I'm gonna cum," she panted, gasping as several fingers found and roughly fingered her g-spot. "Oh god yes, I'm gonna cum!"

"Already?" Ekon said, triceps inconveniently flexing and turning her on more as he pushed against her hands and throat. "You little slut."

"Mmm, yes~" She moaned with rapid breaths, arching her back in pleasure. "You're gonna make me cum~"

His hand left her throat and slapped her face, leaving a small stinging mark in its wake. She was surprised at first and then felt a warm surge of sensual humiliation send a jolt straight to her pussy.

"A-ahh, fuck, yes, yes, ngghh yes, I'm cumming!" She bucked her hips off the wall, crying out in loud pleasure as she squirted on the many hands teasing her. She slid down the wall as the guys backed off, chest heaving even from the light orgasm she just had.

Apparently they weren't patient enough to postpone fucking her, so with little more ado they hoisted her to her feet and onto the rich white leather couch, a couple of them removing her panties and bra. Shirts were removed around her, filling her sight with abs and ripped arms. Jeans and sweats were next, taking boxers with them and leaving everyone present completely naked, and the other guys backed off as Ekon approached and went behind her.

She let out a sharp cry as a massive cock penetrated her pussy and immediately shattered whatever semblance of coherent thought she had left. The sheer size inside her stretched her walls out and caused a fair deal of pleasure and slight pain.

"Please," she murmured quietly, arching and then wiggling her ass to allow him better access, "ruin me."

He wasted no more time and started ruthlessly pounding her, loud claps on skin on skin sounding as he slammed his hips into her ass. She couldn't control the cries that left her mouth, face contorting in pleasure.

"Fuck!" She yelled, his cock reaching unbelievable depths inside her. "Oh my god yes, you're sso big! Oh yes, daddy, fuck my pussy!"

She could hear commentary from the five others, but her mind was too far gone to pay attention to it. He roughly grabbed her arms and held them behind her back, ramming her into the couch and leaving her helpless to the relentless assault on her tight tunnel.

"Yes, yes, yes, fuck! Don't stop, please keep going daddy!"

"Shut the fuck up and take it, you little whore." He leaned some of his weight on her, letting him growl in her ear, and pressed his hand over her mouth, muffling her moans.

"Mmph! Yes daddy!" Her voice was muted by his hand. He let go of her mouth and she turned her head to the side to survey his body. His hands left the couch as well, abs flexing to hold himself up as both hands were brought down on her supple ass in a punishing smack.

"Oh yes, spank me! Spank me harder daddy!" He gladly complied, landing more hard slaps on her ass. The sting brought her a blissful mix of pain and pleasure that was building up an orgasm like an edifice inside her.

"Shit, I'm gonna cum!" She heard the low groan behind her, accompanied by a few more spanks, and bucked her hips back into him as much as she could.

"Are you ready to take my cum, little slut?"

She nodded eagerly, still being slammed into the couch by his relentless thrusts. He delivered another hard spank to her ass, grip tightening on her arms behind her back.

"Try again."

"Yes, daddy!" She cried, eyes rolling into her head as the pleasure overtook her. "I want all of it, give me your cum, please daddy!"

A moan sounded behind her and a second later, a hot current of cum streaming into her pussy. The feeling of being filled with his cum overwhelmed her senses and threw her headlong into a strong orgasm; a wail of pleasure left her as she arched her back and squirted hard onto him.

She got barely a few moments' recovery before all the others approached and loaded onto the couch. Ekon stepped away and let them take their turn, and after one of them lifted her leg and positioned himself under her, she was penetrated in her ass and pussy by two enormous cocks.

Nothing but a gutteral, throaty moan was produced by her already overworked vocal cords. But she noticed two more guys walking around to her backside, and a thought crossed her foggy mind. They weren't going to...were they?

Her question was answered as the feeling of two more hard, throbbing tips pressing against her entrances sent signals of ecstasy to her receptors. With little more ado and no consideration for how much they were stretching her out (which was overloading her with pleasure), the shafts of the tips thrusted inside her.

"Fuck!" Pleasure turned her mind to mush for a moment as she briefly lost touch with reality. Two cocks in each hole; she hadn't been fucked like this in ages.

No, she hadn't been fucked like this ever.

Various murmurs of dirty things reached her ears, but none of them really registered with her brain. She kept up her dialogue of submissive moans, her pleas growing more and more wanting as she got more and more desperate.

"Oh yes, fuck my pussy," she panted, yelping as the smacks pelted down on her ass cheeks. "Fucking give it to me! Harder!"

All four cocks were pumping in and out of her with furious vigor; her pussy was soaked like a monsoon, and was made even wetter by the obscenities and degradation coming from behind her.

"Yeah, take these dicks, you slut!"

"You like being filled up like this, whore?"

"Yes daddy~" she whimpered, being overloaded with sensation. "I want all of your cocks in my tight little cunt! I'm your slutty little toy, keep fucking me just like that, yes!"

More spanks rained down on her ass, causing more waves of pleasure-pain to spread through her and intensifying the telltale tingling in her pussy.

"Oh fuck yes! More!" She cried. "Spank me harder!"

To her slight dismay, the slaps stopped. But a second later, something that stung a lot and something that was definitely not a hand made contact with her pinkened ass cheeks. She glanced around just as the strap was brought down on her once more, and a hand slapped her face. Her arousal turned to the max, she bit her lip and turned back around to a cock in her face. Without a second thought she opened her mouth and allowed it to push past her lips. She sucked passionately and hungrily, ignoring the slight discomfort she felt when his length went down her throat.

"Fuck, such a good little slut. Ain't that right, Rosie?" Ekon's deep voice was easily recognizable.

She nodded vigorously and continued impaling her throat on his massive cock. Her eyes rolled back and she gagged as her mouth and nose made contact with his pubes. She flicked her tongue out to trace circles on his balls as he grabbed her hair and held her right where she was. Slurping obscenely, she stuck out her tongue as far as possible to let him push every last centimeter into her squeezing throat.

"Mmph!" Her moans and gags were muted, but had she been able, the whole neighborhood would have heard her screams. She was going to cum and she knew it, the many cocks invading her holes proving to be too much to handle.

"Phhk!" More strikes from the strap, more thrusts from the guys. "Guhnuh kmm!"

Their hands stroked and caressed her passionately, in stark contrast to their cocks brutally, mercilessly pounding her. No relent, no mercy, no caring for anything more than raw pleasure. And she loved it that way.

"Daddy, I'm gonna cum!" She brought her head off Ekon's shaft and cried out to the room. "It's so fucking good, yes!"

She couldn't take it anymore. Her back arched and her hips bucked against them as her third orgasm slammed into her like a truck, her body trembling with the force of her squirting. Her arms gave out and her front half collapsed, burying her face in the couch. Still, there was no pause in the way they pitilessly railed her, driving their thick cocks in and out of all her holes.

Vaguely, she heard every single one say they were, too, on their way to orgasm, which brought her back to reality. She threw her head back and shouted out her pleasure, and her desire to be filled with cum.

"Please, daddy, cum inside me! Fill me up like the pathetic little cumslut I am! I want all of daddy's cum inside my tight little pussy!"

She bucked her hips into them in desperate need of another orgasm. Slaps landed on her face, heightening her arousal and making her even wetter, making her clench around the rods fucking her, adding to their pleasure.

"Fuck yes, breed me daddy! Fill up my pussy with your hot cum and breed me!" Her own dirty talk was turning her on as well as them, a fresh coat of slick lubricating her.

And then suddenly all four of them pushed as far as they could and bottomed out inside her, simultaneously painting her walls with thick ropes of warm, white cream and triggering her fourth orgasm. With a scream and a shaking body her pussy erupted, spraying their thighs with her own cum. One by one, each cock slid out of her, eliciting a whimper from her, and she was able to let her hips fall. Trembling and hypersensitive, she turned over and laid flat on her back, already feeling the cum start to leak out of her and drip down to the couch.

After a minute she sat up slightly and looked between her own thighs, where their cum and her juices were slowly soaking into the couch cushion.

"Oops," she giggled, letting her head fall back over the couch arm. "Guess you might have to get a new cushion."

Ekon chuckled from the other couch. "Chae, if we gave a damn, we'd fuck you on the bed."

He got up and walked away, his massive, semi-hard cock swinging from side to side. Despite having had four orgasms already, she found herself getting wet again at both the sight of him and the thought of getting fucked again. She reached down and gasped as she accidentally brushed her own clit; the touch sent pleasure shooting through her. Her soft moans did not go unnoticed, and as she fingered herself, they converged. She spread her legs eagerly, but instead of fucking her, one of them lowered his head to her soaking, tingling pussy and pressed his tongue against her clit. A high-pitched gasp left her mouth and her hands clamped down on the cushion as her hips immediately and automatically started grinding into his face.

"Oh god, yes," she moaned, eyebrows contracting up as he deftly swiped at her pussy. "Fucking eat me, daddy..."

Allissa felt her arousal and pleasure growing quickly. Clattering came from the next room where Ekon was.

"Oh yes, give it to me, daddy!" She cried, closing her eyes bucking her hips hard against his tongue. "Your tongue feels so good!"

She felt a cock press against her lips and immediately opened her mouth to let it in. She sucked on it hungrily, bobbing her head up and down.

Then someone pushed her legs up into the air, bringing her hips up, and she felt the tongur slide lower, down to her asshole. She shivered at the foreign sensation, and at the same time felt movement above her. To her slight shock, a second tongue planted itself on her pussy, and she looked down to see that the man whose dick was in her mouth had maneuvered into the top side of a 69 to eat her out. This allowed him enough leverage to thrust his hips into her face, driving his cock deep down her throat.

At that moment Ekon returned, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a massage wand in the other. Pinned down by 150 pounds of muscle, she could do nothing as he slipped the wand under the abs of the other guy and pressed it against her nipple. She moaned into his base, the vibrations adding to all the stimulation she was getting. The tongues probing her holes were very quickly catapulting her to her fifth orgasm; they had her bucking her hips and moaning with ease. Ekon's vibrator made her want to writhe and squirm, but she was helplessly trapped by the muscular body above her. Together, the sensations proved too much once more.

Wailing in ectsasy into the thick member in her throat, she clutched at his back and squirted intensely right into his mouth; the tongue in her ass was suddenly replaced by the head of a cock, closely followed by its shaft. Tears sprang to her eyes as she orgasmed again, hips jerking wildly as more cum streaming out of her.

Someone grabbed her and turned her over, sliding under her and pushing into her oversensitive pussy. Before she even had time to react, two more stretched out her saliva-covered asshole, and Ekon's cock returned to her mouth. From behind her, someone grabbed her hands and roughly tied them together. Someone grabbed her hair and pulled viciously, and Ekon slapped her face on both cheeks.

As soon as the others had come, she felt that all-too-familiar buildup of heat in her core. They reached points inside her she never knew could be hit, fucked her harder and better than she had ever been fucked in her life. Hands tied behind her back, hair being savagely pulled, ass being spanked hard, pussy, ass, and throat being mercilessly railed and used. There was no return to normal sex after this.

More slaps landed on her ass, thighs, face, and breasts, each one sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through her. She could feel herself and all the shafts inside her throbbing with need for release, and that they got.

The first one set off a chain reaction. The one under her groaned and buried himself balls deep inside her, explosively cumming and sending another tirade of warmth into her. At the same time, she and Ekon both met their orgasms, another load spurting down her throat. Several streaks of cum splattered onto her stomach, breasts, and face from the bystanders. A spray of her own cum splattered the thighs of the two fucking her ass, and the increased tightness of her ass caused two more loads to jet into her bowels. And then a second orgasm in a row hit her.

"FUCK!" she screamed as Ekon's softening length slid out of her mouth. Waves of ecstasy and intense pleasure slammed through her one by one, her mind going blank as they overtook her. Her world was a haze of bliss, and she could barely manage to crack open her eyes once the throbbing in her well-fucked cunt died down.

Each cock pulled out of her holes, followed by a steady flow of slick and thick cum. When she had recovered sufficiently, she raised her head and saw that her body was a mess of handprints, red marks from slaps and spanks, bruises, cum streaks, and sweat droplets. Spent and well-used, she let her head fall back onto the armrest.

A short while later she got up and wiped all the various bodily fluids off herself with a towel and then returned to the living room, once-coiffed-and-pretty hair disheveled and, in her opinion, sexy as hell.

"Seems a lil' bit ironic to ask, but did you like it?" Ekon asked, reclining in a seat, as she flopped onto a different couch.

"Yes~" she replied, biting her lip and giggling. "A lot."

Gesturing to the amount of cum still leaking out of her pussy and ass, she said, "You boys really outdid yourselves this time, hm~"

He smirked and returned his attention to the glass of whiskey with an approving nod.

Then it occured to her that they were still under the impression that she was Rosé.

"Can I...can I be honest for a second?"

He nodded nonchalantly. "Go for it, homie."

"Well...I-I'm not Rosé." She said in a small voice.

All sets of eyes in the room roved around to her, a few eyebrows raised. "What?"

"I'm not Rosé." She blushed under their intense gazes. "You guys thought I was at the bar, and I thought you were really cute, so I played along, but I'm not Rosé, or whoever it is you thought I was. I'm really sorry."

Ekon and all the rest looked at her for a long moment, and then they all started laughing. Slapping their knees, rocking back and forth laughing.

"Wait, wait, wait." Adrian said, fighting to control his laughter. "So you tryna tell me I been fuckin' some random girl all of us dumbasses thought was our old homie?"

She nodded meekly, glad at least that they weren't mad.

The laughter erupted again, each one of them crying with mirth. Her face turned hot, her embarrassed in a way.

"Aww, she so cute when she blushin'," commented Ekon, still giggling over the mistaken identity.

"Shut up!" She blushed harder, giggling and covering her face with her hands.

He raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"

Realizing what he meant, she fell silent, a small blossom of arousal rushing to her pussy at his dominant tone.

"Do we need to punish you again?" His voice turned low, dangerous. She was silent for a moment, the small blossom blooming into a large and very wet flower.

"Yes please, daddy~"

A/N: I searched everywhere for more Allissa Shin smuts, and they don't exist. I mean, I searched on Tumblr, AO3, FFN, AFF, everywhere. So I guess I get to be the pioneer of Allissa Shin fics. Yay. This shouldn't have taken me a month to write, but wifi router problems, a considerable period of writer's block, work, and a fair amount of procrastination delayed it. Hope you enjoyed.

[ro-is-struggling]

The Princess and The Wolf || PART 3 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: Geralt returns to see his princess once again. Only this time he is not alone and after a year without communication he does not know if he will still be welcome.

Warnings: slow burn, grumpy x sunshine (or more like grumpy x disney princess lol), miscommunication, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, me trying to write domestic stuff, mentions of past trauma (for both Ciri and the protagonist/reader), Geralt Ciri and reader being a family, canon typical violence, my attempt at creating an original monster, some very long dialogues (sorry! I hallucinated half of the story and I couldn’t leave any part out apparently), FEM READER (the protagonist is referred to as woman/she-her/princess/sunshine)

Let me know if I missed anything! (I definitely did, I've been writing this part for so long there's probably a lot of stuff I forgot lol so just lmk)

English is not my first language

Word count: 21.800 (I'm not even sorry)

Notes: I’m sorry it took me so long to post this! I promise you I’ve been working on it since the moment I posted the last part but everytime I wrote a scene a new idea came to mind and I just had to add it so here we are. That moment with Ciri wasn’t in my original idea but I just had to include it cause that poor girl needs a hug! Besides, it was a nice way to explore a little bit more about the protagonist background 

I have a few ideas for the next part but please send me yours! (SEE THE END OF THE POST FOR MORE)

PART 1 || PART 2

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The cat was the first to sense his presence. Even before he knocked on the door or the sound of the horse's footsteps echoed through the hut, the cat was already meowing and pacing back and forth, going from the door to the window and back to the door. He always did that when he felt Geralt was near. He was possibly the only cat on the continent that didn't hiss and hide in the presence of a witcher, quite the opposite in fact. The feline knew he was good and trustworthy because she trusted him, so he ignored all his instincts and gave Geralt a chance. They became friends almost immediately —even though the witcher used to pretend otherwise. The cat loved Geralt as much as his owner, and had missed him almost more than she had.

More than a year had passed. A year without news of him, without a visit or a letter to let her know he was well. A year of uncertainty in which the mind of the poor princess had done nothing but think about what might have happened to him. On good days, she accepted with a broken heart that he was not going to visit her again after the disaster that turned out to be their travel together. It pained her to think that she had missed her chance with him. She felt alone and lost, but that was better than thinking that his absence was because something really bad had happened to him. Dark were the days when she woke up wrapped in sweat, with images of Geralt bloodied fixed in her mind. She had lost count of how many nightmares she had had about it, how many different monsters had been responsible for ending his life and taking away the man who made her happy and gave her purpose. So when that was the alternative, convincing herself that he had simply stopped loving her was more bearable to her poor tormented mind.

“It's not him, darling. He's not coming back here” she spoke to her cat, bending down to stroke his head. The feline meowed, as if to answer her, and jumped up onto the window sill. She let out a tired sigh and pulled back the curtains to open the latch to let the animal out.

It was then that she heard the murmurs and footsteps of a horse in the distance. The cat meowed once more and jumped out of the window, running into the darkness of the night. She followed him with her eyes, looking for him in the shadows to try to find out what it was that had him so agitated. In the distance, moving through the bushes and trees, she recognized the unique white hair of the man who had occupied almost all of her thoughts for the past year. She ran to the door, flinging it open and taking a few steps outside to ensure that her eyes were not deceiving her.

Geralt was there, not looking a day older than the last time she had seen him. She noticed that he didn't look hurt or in bad shape, so she couldn't help but wonder what was the reason for him showing up at her house after such a long time of complete silence. Though her questions were pushed aside when his eyes made contact with hers. All the pain, fear and uncertainty she had accumulated for almost two years dissolved the moment she felt his warm gaze rest on her figure. Her heart began to beat faster than it had in a long time, her stomach, full of butterflies, was twisting and turning because of her nerves.

She realized then that she had no idea how to react to his presence. What was she supposed to say to him? Was she supposed to pretend that she hadn't had the worst year of her life? Was it worth scolding him for his absence when he had finally decided to come back? Happiness and anger began to fight inside her with every step the witcher took towards her. Memories of them being happy were followed by images of the nights she had cried herself to sleep because of him, creating a conflicting narrative that did nothing but confuse her.

“Geralt...” She called his name when he was close enough to hear her. “What are you doing here?” The question sounded more accusatory than she expected, but she didn't have time to take it back —or double down on her complaints— because he stepped aside, revealing the figure of a young girl. It took the woman a moment to focus her gaze on the child since she was almost entirely hidden behind Geralt's broad shoulders. She had long blonde hair and pale skin, though her nose and cheeks were reddened by the cold wind of the approaching winter. In her hands she carried her cat, who purred happily at the gentle caresses she gave him.

The confusion about her own feelings was soon replaced by confusion about the girl and her relationship with Geralt. Her eyes traveled back and forth a couple of times, trying to piece together the reasons behind her presence and the explanation as to why Geralt was traveling with the girl. She couldn't have been more than thirteen years old, so it was hard to imagine that he had decided to travel with her of his own accord. Not after the things he had said to her on their journey together. She thought then that perhaps it was someone he had saved along the way, a young princess he had to rescue from the clutches of a monster or a poor girl who had gotten lost.

Whoever it was, Geralt didn't feel the need to tell her. “We need a safe place to stay.” Was the only explanation he provided her. She didn't insist either, ultimately she didn't need a reason to let him into her home. She stepped aside without a second thought, making room for them to enter and making sure to lock the door behind her back.

“You know, for someone that claims to not have friends you sure do have a lot.” She laughed and Geralt gave her a rather unamused look. “Who's this beautiful young lady?”

The girl looked up at Geralt, wide eyes looking up at him for his approval. The witcher nodded his head, a movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible. She only picked up on it because she knew Geralt so well and was already used to that kind of reaction, which told her that the girl knew him very well too. It was as if they communicated without speaking, just a quick glance was enough and they knew exactly what the other was thinking. It was impressive and she hadn't seen anything like it before, especially not with Geralt. It only increased her curiosity even more.

“I'm Cirilla.” The girl introduced herself with a shy smile, lowering the cat from her arms.

It took her a few seconds to understand why that name seemed familiar. When reality hit her, wide eyes flew to Geralt with an expression of confusion and surprise mixed together. He had once told her about the feast Jaskier had dragged him to and the way the event had ended. The last time they had talked about his child of surprise he seemed to want nothing to do with that matter. When she had presented her concerns to him he had told her that he had assured the child's family that he would not claim her. And honestly she had thought it was for the best. With the way Geralt approached life she couldn't imagine him raising a child.  That's why she didn't understand why he was now showing up at her house with her. What had made him change his mind?

She managed to compose herself quickly from her surprise, her eyes returning to Cirilla almost immediately so as not to make her feel uncomfortable. “That's a beautiful name, Cirilla!” She complimented her with a smile. “I'm sure you must be cold! I can run you a hot bath and then we can eat something. What do you say?”

“That sounds wonderful, thank you!” Cirilla's eyes lit up at the mention of the bath, desperate to feel the hot water against her cold skin. Since she had met Geralt her situation had improved considerably, but the cold outdoors was still something she was having trouble getting used to.

After leaving Cirilla alone in the bathroom with everything she needed to clean herself and restore her tired muscles, the young woman returned to the table where Geralt was sitting, ready to answer the thousands of questions he knew were swirling around in her head. Some of them —especially the ones about Ciri— were easy to answer, but others... he did not even want to think about it.

“I thought you didn't want to have anything to do with her.” she said, dropping into the chair across from him. “What made you change your mind?”

Geralt hesitated before answering. He wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to tell her that the last few months he had spent running away from her had been the most miserable of his life. That every day he spent away from her was agony. That he woke up hearing her laughter in the wind, missing the warmth of her body, longing to smell the perfume of her hair. He believed it was best for both of them if he stayed away. They could never be together and persisting in that fantasy would only hurt them. He thought he could do it, that he could forget her if he spent enough time away from her charms. He knew it wouldn't be easy and that it would hurt, but he was convinced that it would be the best for both of them in the long run.

However, months passed and the emptiness in his chest only grew heavier with each passing day. Geralt couldn't close his eyes without seeing her smile. He couldn't sleep without dreaming of having her by his side. He couldn't see a deer in the forest or a rabbit hopping around without thinking of her, of how happy he would be in her company, of the way she would take the animal in her hands and make him stop to play with it. His days were gray and dull, cold even under the hottest summer. Without her —without the promise of feeling her hands on his body or the hope of hearing her sweet voice call his name one more time—  life lost some of its luster.

He realized then that he could never forget her. She was the woman he loved, the only one who occupied his mind and heart, the only one who could make him seriously question his future as a witcher. She was his destiny, their paths had crossed for a reason that day in the forest. They were bound together by ties stronger than their own will, so there was no point in fighting against it. It was not worth running away from destiny if the only thing he gained was to deepen the emptiness that pressed on his chest. And she was his destiny, as well as Ciri was. He realized that if he wanted to stop feeling so miserable he had to stop fighting against what he could not change and face what destiny wanted from him.

But instead of admitting his feelings and being vulnerable in front of her, Geralt chose the easy answer: “Her kingdom was invaded. All her family was killed. I just couldn't leave her alone after that. She's in danger, she needs my protection.”

“So why bring her here?” She snapped back at him, sounding harsher than intended.

She wasn't upset with his presence, in fact she was glad to know that he still saw her home as a refuge where he was willing to bring Cirilla to make sure she was protected. All she wanted to know was why it had taken him so long to show up. Was he angry with her? Was their relationship broken beyond repair? Had he been preoccupied with his travels? Had he been avoiding her? Did he still love her? Those questions had been eating her up inside all these months. She thought she would never see Geralt again, so she had tried hard not to think about it. But he was there with her now and she needed those answers in order to ease her mind.

“I'm bringing her to Kaer Morhen with me, she'll be safe there. But she was getting tired and cold and since we were close I thought... We will leave in the morning if our stay causes any trouble for you.” Geralt assured her, trying not to cause a disturbance.

He should have figured that he couldn't just reappear in her life and wait for her to welcome him back with open arms. She had every right to throw him out if she wanted to, he had behaved like a complete bastard. But when he decided to seek refuge in her hut, Geralt wasn't thinking of him or her, but of Ciri. But now he understood that maybe he was asking too much of her. He was so used to using her home as a shelter that he didn't consider that the doors might be closed to him one day.

“I don't want you to leave. I want you to tell me why it took you so long to come back. I want you to tell me that there is a good reason for leaving me in the dark all this time, wondering what could have happened to you and if I was ever going to see your face again.”

“Sunshine, I...” Geralt tried to respond, but stopped in mid-sentence. He couldn't find the words to express how he felt, to explain to her how stupid he had been and how sorry he was for his mistake in a way that wouldn't make things worse. He didn't want to hurt her, even though he knew it was a little late for that.

She felt her heart squeeze at the mention of that nickname. She hadn't realized how much she had missed hearing his voice calling her by that name until that moment. It reminded her of the simpler, happier times they had shared, of long nights spent sleepless as they talked about life. It reminded her of how much she loved being called that by him and how her heart had skipped a beat the first time he had used it. She never knew what had prompted him to call her that in the first place —and she'd always been too embarrassed to ask—, but she was glad he had. It made her feel special, loved.

“Forget it.” she said as she noticed the internal conflict reflecting in Geralt's eyes. She didn't know what was making him so hesitant, but she began to think that maybe she didn't want to hear the answer to his question. Maybe it was better to live in ignorance after all. Maybe living on happy memories and moments that would never get back was better than living in harsh reality. All this time she had thought the uncertainty had been the worst, but seeing the doubt in the witcher's yellow eyes made her think that maybe the truth could be worse. She didn't know if she was ready to know that he didn't love her.

“Tell me about Cirilla. You said she is in danger, why?” She sought to change the subject, desperate to find a topic of conversation that would quell those thoughts.

“There's people after her, a black knight that has been following her since the fall of Cintra. She dreams about him every night.” Geralt explained, remembering the way the little girl tossed and turned in her sleep because of the nightmares.

“I can give her something to help with the nightmares so at least she can have one good night of sleep.”

“That's not all... she has magic.”

“Like her mother?” the woman asked curiously. She still remembered the details Geralt had told her about the feast that night where his and Cirilla's destiny had been linked. The magic that the young girl's mother had demonstrated was something she had never even heard of before in her life.

“I don't know what the extent of her power is, she doesn't talk much about it.”

“And you want me to do all the work for you, huh?” She guessed before Geralt could even hint at it. It was a long shot, but if anyone was going to be able to break through the barrier Ciri had created around her to protect herself, it was her. People always tended to open up to her, her sweet and charming nature sparked trust in even the most reclusive and distrustful person.

“You don't have to do it if you don't want to. I just... she's scared, I understand that, but I can't protect her if she doesn't tell me the truth. I thought that perhaps you could get through to her better than I can. You have magic too, maybe she'll be more inclined to talk about it with someone that understands what she's going through.”

“I'll see what I can do.” She promised him, unable to refuse to help a frightened little girl who had lost everything.

The young woman couldn't help but notice the protective way in which Geralt spoke of Ciri. She wasn't sure how long they had known each other, but from the way he cared for her she would say quite a bit. The witcher's trust wasn't easy to gain —it had taken her a while even after saving his life—, but the girl seemed to have done it in record time. It was heartwarming to see the way they acted around each other. She always looked at him before answering some of the questions the young woman asked him during dinner, as if she needed Geralt's confirmation to reveal certain information about her. It was clear that they trusted each other, in a way reminiscent of a father and daughter. Which made Ciri's reluctance to open up to him even stranger.

It was strange to see Geralt in such a position. He always acted so tough, like a lone wolf who didn't need anyone's company. Seeing the way he cared for Ciri —how he urged her to take the sleeping potion she offered her, warning her how important it was for her to get a good night's sleep— was almost jarring. Even in her wildest fantasies she hadn't imagined Geralt being a father. Now that she saw it, though, she liked it. It suited him. She only wished he had given himself the chance to explore that side of him much sooner. She couldn't deny that it pained her to know that she had always been right, the two of them could have worked out if only he had let it happen.

After they had dined and chatted for a long time, she, like the good hostess she was, escorted Ciri to the extra room she had unoccupied, telling her that it would be her space for as long as she wished to stay there. “Any friend of Geralt is a friend of mine. You're welcome to stay for as long as you want.” She smiled sweetly, trying hard to show the girl that she could trust her. Ciri thanked her before she closed the door behind her, making sure she knew she appreciated her hospitality.

When she left the girl's room, she didn't find Geralt anywhere. She didn't worry too much about it, assuming he would be out with Roach or securing the perimeter of the property to make sure Ciri could get a peaceful night of uninterrupted sleep. She let him do his thing, opting to tidy up the house and get ready for bed. She waited for him in bed, one last candle burning as she read a book. She assumed he would come to sleep with her as they had always done. Now that Ciri was occupying the only free room, the other alternative was to sleep on the floor. But time passed, the night grew dark and cold, and Geralt did not come. So she put on a cloak and went outside to look for him.

It didn't take her long to find him, she just circled the property and stumbled upon him in the makeshift stable she had at the side of her garden. He was sitting on a pile of hay, chatting with Roach while stroking the animal's fur. He had his back against the wooden wall and seemed to be settled there, as if he had no intention of moving. When she approached, he fell silent, so she couldn't hear what he was saying to the horse, although she had a good idea.

“What are you doing out here? It's freezing!” She said, crossing her arms under her cloak to keep her body warm. While it hadn't yet snowed for the first time, there was an icy dew in the air that looked a lot like it. And while she understood that Geralt had a higher tolerance for extreme weather thanks to his mutations, that didn't mean she liked the idea of him being cold in the stable when there was a warm bed waiting for him inside.

“It's not that cold.” he replied and she looked at him with a raised eyebrow, not believing for a moment that he truly didn't feel the cold. She had been outside for a couple of minutes and could already feel the cold starting to dig into her bones. “I was taking care of Roach.”

“She seems fine. Come inside before you freeze to death.”

“You know that won't happen.”

“Geralt, please.”

It was a gentle plea, with a hint of desperation. All she wanted was to have Geralt by her side during the night again. She wanted to lie down and find that she felt the same comfort she always had, that his presence made her feel as safe and comforted as she remembered. She wanted to feel his strong arms wrap around her at night and know that the doubts were only in her head and completely unfounded. She wanted to know that he still loved her and that it had all been a big misunderstanding. She was desperate to find a way to move on, to let go of all the pain that had haunted her. But she was terrified to talk about it, so all she had left was that. If Geralt didn't accept her offer then she knew all was lost.

“I don't want to impose...”

“You're not,” she interrupted him before he could blurt out any excuses. “I'm asking you to come inside with me.”

Geralt couldn't refuse that request. Even though things between them were weird, he still couldn't resist her charms. There was something in the way she looked at him, a glint of desperation growing in her eyes, that made it impossible for him to say no to her. It gave him hope. He thought she was angry with him, and she was, but inside her still burned the flame of love they had once shared. Maybe all was not lost. Maybe he could still make things right.

He followed her back into the house, pulling off his wet cloak and muddy boots before entering the room. It looked exactly as he remembered it, not a single object out of place. It was as if time had not passed. The flowers on the window sill were still as colorful and full of life as in the spring, the books stacked in the wooden trunk at the foot of the bed did not seem to have changed their order. The air smelled of her, that intoxicating mixture of floral perfume and wet earth that he had come to miss so much.

However, the reality of the situation hit him as he laid his head on the pillow. There was no goodnight kiss or silly talk before bed. She simply laid down on his side of the bed and settled down with her back to him before blowing out the candle that lit the room. They were only inches apart, but Geralt had never felt so far away from her before. Even when he was miles away, purposely avoiding her, he still felt close to her. How could he not when images of her wouldn't leave his mind? He kept seeing her in his dreams, reliving their happy moments every time he closed his eyes, fantasizing about hearing her laughter and feeling the warmth of her body once more. But now that he had her by his side, he felt nothing but a cold emptiness pressing on his chest.

He wanted to reach out to touch her. There was nothing he wanted more than to be able to wrap her in his arms and never let her go again, but he didn't know if he could —or if he should. He understood her hesitation, she had every right to be angry with him after the way he had reacted. He wanted to give her some space, some time so they could get their relationship back on track. He didn't want to pressure her, so he kept his hands to himself even though it hurt. He had to think of her first. He had no right to suddenly come back into her life after he had unilaterally decided to leave her, and demand the same treatment from her as before.

But what Geralt didn't know was that she wasn't avoiding him on purpose. She wanted to run into his arms, curl up on his chest and sleep wrapped in his warmth. But she didn't feel like she was the one who had to make the first move. Her feelings for him had never changed. She had been the one who had tried to make their relationship blossom. She had tried so hard to show him that they could have a future together. Geralt had been the one who had run away without explanation, so he should be the one to make the first move if he wanted to. She didn't want to pressure him, to make him feel like he had to do or say things he didn't want to just to protect her feelings. If he reached out to her, she needed to know that he was doing it because he really wanted to.

That was why his distance hurt her so much. Clearly there was something broken in their relationship and the most heartbreaking thing of it all was that she didn't know what to do to fix it —or even if she could.

The morning brought more pleasant weather conditions with it. The silent tension that haunted Geralt and the princess disappeared almost completely, mainly because they both sought to focus their attention on Ciri to avoid dealing with their own problems. Looking for an excuse that would give her the opportunity to spend more time with the girl, she asked Ciri to accompany her on a walk through the forest to replenish her collection of medicinal herbs. The winter was fast approaching and soon there would be nothing left but the plants she grew stored inside her house. Ciri agreed and Geralt joined them under the guise of hunting their lunch, although he had the decency to keep his distance so that they could get to know each other better.

It was a beautiful morning. Even though the autumn sun was not strong enough to counteract the cold breeze, there was no freezing mist that morning and that was already a reason to celebrate. Besides, Ciri was no longer wearing wet clothes and was well rested and fed, so she felt capable of accomplishing anything. The young woman guided her through the forest, telling her the details of the plants they needed to collect —their appearance, their medicinal uses, the potions and ointments she created. Ciri listened to her intently, fascinated and intrigued with the new information she was being presented with, wondering if she would be able to accomplish something like this someday.

“So you're a mage then?” Ciri asked, looking up at the woman walking beside her smelling a white flower.

“Not exactly.” she replied, earning a look of confusion from the girl. “I have an aptitude for magic, but I wasn't officially trained. I was taught by a healer everything I know, but magic is far more complex than what I know or the things I can do.” She hastened to explain as she knelt down in the dirt to pick up a couple of valerian leaves and put them in her basket.

“Is that how you met Geralt? Through your powers?”

“My abilities did play a part in the story of how we met, yes, but not in the way you're probably thinking.” The princess lost herself in her memories for a moment, images of that day flashing before her eyes. It felt so close and yet so far away at the same time. It was amazing to look back and see how far she had come both as a person, as well as their relationship. “He didn't tell you about us, huh?”

“He said you were an old friend, but didn't answer any of my questions. He's not particularly chatty.” Ciri said with a chuckle and she couldn't help but laugh too. If there was anyone who knew how difficult it could be to get a topic of conversation out of Geralt, it was her. She could almost imagine the girl's effusive curiosity running into the witcher's frustrating monosyllabic responses, just like it used to happen to her.

"Oh trust me, I know."

Geralt could hear them talking, but decided not to intervene. Instead he watched from a distance as they laughed together, feeling happy that they were getting along. Not that he thought it would be difficult, Ciri was a lovely girl and his sunshine was one of the sweetest and nicest people that existed on the continent. But still, it was nice to see them conversing so comfortably. It made him feel a strange warmth inside, a strange feeling unlike anything he had ever felt before. But he liked it, he found it comforting.

“We met after I escaped my home.” The princess began to tell her story, thinking carefully about every word before she said it. It was a great opportunity to build trust with Ciri, to let her know that she could understand her better than anyone else since she had also been a child frightened by her own powers. “You see, a long time ago I was a princess, just like you, trapped in a kingdom that had forbidden magic long before I was even born. I had to learn everything I know in secret, hiding from my parents and my own kingdom. Ruling wasn't my calling, especially in those conditions, so one day I decided to run away.”

Ciri's interest was piqued, her eyes growing wide with curiosity as she listened intently to the story the young woman told her. She told her about the monster that prowled the forests of her kingdom and how she used it to fake her death so she could escape a future she didn't want in a kingdom that didn't appreciate her. She also told her that was the reason Geralt showed up at her town, having been hired to kill the monster and avenge the death of the princess. But instead of encountering a beast, he found the young woman hiding in the forest.

“He could have taken me back to the castle. My parents probably would have paid him more to return their presumed dead daughter and heir to the throne home, but he didn't... he listened to my pleas and had mercy on me. He saved my life... everything I am today, everything I have, I owe to him. Geralt gave me a second chance in life and for that I will be eternally grateful.”

The princess smiled, remembering the details of their first meeting. Geralt had truly saved her life. She had failed to properly prepare for her escape, acting hastily and recklessly after an argument with her father that ended with him yelling at her that she was a disgrace to his family for not wanting to marry a lord who didn't love or respect her and only saw her as a way to gain more power. No matter how well she knew those woods, she could not have gotten very far on her own. And if anyone else had found her, they would have returned her to her parents without a thought, condemning her to a life of misery.

But Geralt had not done so. He had taken pity on her, putting her well-being above gaining greater wealth even when he did not know her. He had given her the opportunity to discover herself in complete freedom, far from the demands and mandates of her parents. Everything she was, was made possible by him. That's why she was always willing to help him, no matter how angry or upset she was with him. She couldn't let go of the hand of the man who had taken hers and pulled her out of the dark pit that was her former life.

“He saved my life too.” Ciri said with a sad smile on her lips. “He's the only family I have left.”

“I'm sorry about that,” the young woman offered a smile, resting her hand on the girl's shoulder and giving it a supportive squeeze. “You shouldn't have to go through all that violence and pain, no child should. But you are in good hands with Geralt, he's going to take good care of you. Don't let the big, grumpy frown and the stories about witchers fool you, he is a big softie with a heart of gold.”

They shared a few chuckles and continued on their way, searching for the herbs they had yet to gather. The princess told Ciri about the Celandine plant and its medicinal properties —telling her to keep her eyes open in case she saw a four-petaled yellow flower—, and about the Eyebright plant and how it had cured an eye infection in a girl's eye in the village. She also shared with her some of the stories of her life, how she had practically grown up in the forest and the peace she felt when she was in contact with nature.

Ciri liked to hear those stories, especially when she told her about the difficulties she faced in understanding and learning to control her powers in the beginning. It made her feel less lonely to know that she wasn't the only one who had to go through something like that alone and without much guidance. It gave her hope for her future. Watching as she bent down to heal the broken wing of a bird on the side of the road, Ciri thought that if she had managed to understand and control her powers then there was still hope for her too. Maybe one day she would stop being afraid of her own abilities. Maybe she would come to understand what was wrong with her and the purpose of her powers.

“Why did they prohibit magic in your kingdom?” the girl asked curiously, marveling at the healing capabilities of the runaway princess' powers. It only took a touch of her hands and the utterance of some words she did not understand for the bird to recover, flying from her hands to get lost in the treetops. Ciri could not understand how something as wonderful as that could be seen as a bad thing. Her powers were nothing like hers, so it was hard for her to think that they would be viewed as displeasing to anyone.

“No one really talked about it, and I was always too afraid to ask. But from what I understand, magic ran in the royal family, but it had never brought the kingdom any luck, only chaos and destruction.” she explained returning her attention to Ciri now that the bird had disappeared from her vision. “Apparently it made people too unstable to rule. My great grandmother was the last one to have magic before me and she was the reason it was banned, but no one really talked about it so I don't know exactly why. For the most part everybody just pretended magic didn't exist, especially my parents. I think they knew that I inherited my great grandmother's abilities and they thought that maybe if they didn't mention it might go away. But the only thing they accomplished was to isolate me.”

She paused in her story and Ciri could notice in her eyes the pain those memories caused her. The joyful and sweet expression that graced her face was replaced by a sad and melancholic look. It was only for a second, but her face changed so much that she looked like a completely different person from the one who was standing next to her minutes before. Ciri wondered what kind of horrors she would have had to go through in her old home and if that expression was so different because it belonged to the princess she had left behind.

“When I started showing the first signs of chaos, I didn't know what was going on with me. I was terrified.” She cleared her throat and then her face lit up with its usual sweetness again. “If it wasn't for the new court physician I would have never learned the truth. She was a mage on the run, hiding in the last place she thought they were going to look for her. She noticed the signs immediately and took me under her wing, taught me everything I know... how to control my powers, how to use them in the art of healing, and more importantly, she taught me to not be afraid of them, to not let the fear of others influence me.”

She gave Ciri a small smile, hoping she understood the meaning behind her words. She wanted to be that positive figure in her life, to pass on to Ciri the knowledge and confidence that had been passed on to her in her training. It wasn't much compared to what other mages could teach her, but it was a start. She was willing to be the guide she so desperately needed, if Ciri would let her.

“Were they afraid of you because you were different?” The girl asked, looking at her with wide eyes full of curiosity. It was a question she was asking both the woman beside her and herself. The princess recognized that, so she stopped in her tracks and turned to look Ciri in the eye. It was important for her to hear and understand what she was about to tell her.

“Probably, yes.” she admitted with a sigh. Ciri lowered her gaze and she took a step forward, reaching out to grab her chin and make her look up. “But you have to understand that fear is one of the most common reactions people have to the unknown, to that which they don't understand. It's not personal, they just can't help it. One important thing I learned over time is that reaction is something you can't control, there is nothing you or I can say or do to stop those who don't understand magic from fearing it. But what we can control is our own fear. And it is important not to let the fear of others affect one's perception of oneself.”

“But what if they are right?” Ciri's voice was close to a whisper, almost as if she struggled to utter those words aloud. As if she was afraid to admit what her mind had been repeating to her since the fall of Cintra, fearing that saying it would make it real. “What if magic only brings death and destruction?”

It was clear to the princess that Ciri was referring to her own powers. She didn't need to know her too well —or even know the details of her powers— to understand, she could see it in the tears that had gathered in her eyes. It broke his heart to see the little girl in that state. She was just a child, it wasn't fair that she had such dark thoughts clouding her mind at that young age. Fate had been very cruel to her, taking away her family and home in a single act of terrible violence that she had had to witness without being able to do anything to prevent it. Not only that, but now she had to face her future and the development of her powers with no one to guide her. No child should have to go through something like that. All she wanted to do at that moment was to hug Ciri and tell her that there was nothing wrong with her, to assure her that everything would be alright and that her life would get better. But before she could even utter a word, a strange sound echoed throughout the forest, distracting her attention from the girl.

Her gaze instinctively searched for Geralt, who was already alert. His eyes searched the surroundings as his hand slowly approached the handle of the sword resting on his back. She felt Ciri's hand squeeze hers and returned her gaze to the girl. She was met with her expression of terror, which only got worse as the rumbling of what could only be described as a deafening shriek was heard.

“Geralt!” The woman called his name, hoping he would give some sort of explanation for what was happening.

Though he didn't need to say anything, because at that instant a figure came into view in the distance. It was a monster, but not one like anything she had ever seen or read about. It was large, with multiple legs and eyes, and a long tail that ended in a sharp point. It was like a strange, disgusting mix between a scorpion and a centipede, a large creature that towered tall above them. It stood still for a moment, keeping a relative distance, as if searching for something specific. The princess pushed Ciri behind her, instinctively seeking to protect her. The creature shrieked again and Geralt pulled out his sword.

“Run!” He commanded them before advancing towards the beast with his sword held high.

The princess hesitated for a second, feeling the need to reach out to him to help him, but Ciri tugged on her hand and reminded her that she needed hisprotection. They ran through the forest holding hands, helping each other keep their balance when they stumbled due to their nerves. She tried to keep Ciri safe, positioning herself a few steps behind her to protect her from a possible surprise attack with her own body. From time to time she looked behind, searching the horizon for the figure of Geralt or that monster to know in which direction to flee. But it was difficult to follow the fight when she was also worried about looking after Ciri. She needed some sort of vantage point that would allow her to observe the enemy so she could prepare for its attack.

“Is it gone?” the girl asked in fright as she tried to catch her breath. They had stopped momentarily when they saw that the monster was no longer at their heels. They couldn't hear it screeching either, so they thought maybe Geralt had taken care of it.

“I don't know.” she answered honestly, pushing Ciri against a tree to hide in case he came back. “I don't see Geralt anywhere.”

“Should we go back to look for him?”

“No, that's too dangerous... we need to get to higher ground.”

Before she could say another word, the beast made its presence known again. It came out of nowhere, screeching and moaning, no doubt hurt by the witcher. But in spite of that, it rushed towards the direction of the two princesses with the same voracious determination. Ciri screamed and grabbed the hand of the woman at her side to start running once more, but she stayed in place.

There was no sign of Geralt anywhere and given the amount of legs that beast had, it was clear that they couldn't outrun it. Ciri wouldn't be able to escape from there without someone to give her a head start.

“Run north, up the hill and hide there. Don't look back!” she ordered and the girl looked at her with confusion.

“What about you?”

“I'll come look for you, but I need to buy you some time to run.” She explained quickly, keeping her eyes on the beast that was getting closer and closer to them. “Go, Ciri! Now!”

The girl hesitated, finding the scene all too familiar. The number of times she had had to leave someone behind to save her life was more than she would like. It never ended well and she felt responsible for all the lives that had been sacrificed to get her there. She hoped Geralt's friend wouldn't join the list, she didn't know if she could tolerate one more death on her conscience.

As soon as Ciri started to run, she concentrated on attacking the monster that was chasing them. She moved out of the girl's way, seeking to draw the beast's attention to her to distract it. But to her surprise, it didn't seem to care. It continued on its way in the direction of Ciri as if she were not in that forest. And if it wasn't because she invoked the sign of Aard the beast probably wouldn't have bothered to attack her. It was clear that its target was Ciri, although she could not understand the reason.

She used what little knowledge she had of magic outside of healing to attack the monster. She relied on the Quen sign to protect herself when the beast came too close, just as Geralt had taught her. And she summoned Aard's power to throw the beast away from her, slamming it into every tree and rock she could find in hopes the impact would stun it and give her a chance to escape. She put up a good fight, but it was clear that she couldn't beat him with her limited skills.

Luckily, she didn't have to. Geralt appeared just in time to save her, crossing his sword with the beast's pointed tail before it could hurt her. They shared a simple, quick glance, but that was enough for them to communicate. Geralt's eyes assured her that he would take care of the beast and asked her to protect Ciri. She nodded to him, letting him know that the girl's safety was her priority before running after her.

It didn't take her long to find Ciri, she knew that forest like the back of her hand. She was hiding in the bushes, ready to attack anything that came near her. The girl almost hit her in the stomach with a log when she approached her hiding place, fearing it was an attacker coming to hurt her. She stopped just in time though, wide eyes looking at the woman in front of her with surprise. She hadn't expected to see her there —not after learning the fate of all those who had stayed behind to give her a chance to escape danger—, but she was glad she was all right. Ciri felt safer with her by her side.

“Where is Geralt?” asked Ciri worriedly, looking behind the woman's back for her protector's white mane.

“He's fine.” she assured her, approaching the edge of the hill to look down for movement that would indicate Geralt's whereabouts. But she saw nothing. Nor did she hear the shrieks of the beast pursuing them. All was quiet, almost too quiet. It gave her a bad feeling. “Come on, we have to keep moving.” She indicated to Ciri, taking her by the hand once more.

But before they could get more than a couple of steps away, the monster reached them, cornering them against some rocks and the ledge. It was so sudden, that the princess could do nothing more than create a protective energy field, enveloping her and Ciri's figure in a semi-transparent whitish bubble that kept the beast away from them. She pushed the girl behind her and told her to prepare to run when she gave the signal. Ciri protested, refusing to let her face the beast alone, but she assured her that she would be fine. The truth was that she didn't know, but she had no choice but to stand between the monster and the girl it so desperately sought to attack. She was going to fight to her last breath to protect it because it was the right thing to do —and because it was what Geralt expected of her.

However, her countdown only reached two before a sword pierced the beast's body. It let out a shriek of pain and tried to lunge at its attacker, but Geralt plunged his sword even deeper, giving it one last thrust before withdrawing it to let the creature bleed out. The beast collapsed to the ground, spreading a viscous dark green liquid oozing from its mortal wound onto the earth. It writhed a couple of times until it stopped moving, signaling that life had left its body.

The princess let out a sigh of relief, breaking the energy field now that it was safe for Ciri. The relief didn't last long, however, because Geralt collapsed next to the beast, dropping his sword with a loud clang. She and Ciri ran to him, calling his name with concern. He was still conscious when they knelt beside him, though he looked weak.

“Let me see.” she asked when she noticed Geralt squeezing his thigh with one hand. He moved it, allowing her to inspect the wound closely.

There was a tear in his pants and beneath it the skin of the witcher's thigh was swollen and reddened. There was a puncture wound that leaked drops of blood mixed with a thick black liquid. Making a closer inspection, she noticed the small black lines branching out, veins standing out on his skin as they slowly began the work of spreading the poison through his system.

“Fuck!” she muttered under her breath as she tore a piece of the skirt from her dress.

“What?” Ciri asked worriedly, watching as she tied the piece of cloth around Geralt's thigh, just above his wound, and tied a tight knot that caused the witcher to groan in pain. “What is it?”

“Poison.” she replied simply, picking up Geralt's sword from the ground and using it to cut the stinger from the tail of the monster lying lifelessly beside him. Then, she removed her cloak and used it to wrap the tail in it, making sure it was safe to carry without coming into contact with the poison the stinger held. If this was a new monster —or at least, one she didn't know about— she was sure that having the direct source of the poison would be of vital importance to save Geralt's life.

“We need to get him back home. Now.”

Luckily, Geralt was still lucid enough to walk. The slow beating of his heart and the tourniquet she had improvised with part of her dress helped keep the poison from spreading through his body quickly, but it still needed to be treated urgently. Ciri helped her carry him, each of them putting one of Geralt's arms around their shoulders and holding him tightly to help him move with more ease and speed. They were not far from the hut, but it was not easy to travel with Geralt in that state, so it took them longer than usual to get there.

Once home, the princess settled Geralt on the bed, just as she had done so many times in the past, before running to get her potions and ointments to treat the wound. Ciri sat beside him on the bed, looking at her protector with concern as he mumbled in pain. She noticed that the wound on his leg was getting worse with each passing second and for a moment she was afraid that something bad was going to happen to him. She couldn't lose him, not after going through so much to find him. Geralt was the only thing she had left, her only hope, she couldn't lose him.

“Ciri, could you help him drink this?” The woman asked, handing her a small glass vial with a yellowish green liquid inside. The girl was grateful to have been entrusted with a task, something she could do that would help her feel her presence was useful. “It will help his body battle the effects of the poison.”

Ciri took the bottle with one hand and Geralt's head with the other, lifting him slightly off the bed so he could drink the potion. While she brought the bottle to his lips, the princess tended to the wound on his leg. First she carefully washed it, using warm water and a clean cloth to remove the blood and drops of poison that remained on the skin. Then, she spread an ointment of her own creation on the wound while uttering an incantation in the ancient tongue.

She concentrated all her energy on him, repeating the incantation with increasing strength and conviction. She was treating it as she would any wound infected with poison, but the reality was that she didn't know if that would work. The creature that had attacked him was new to her, so she didn't know if its poison would respond to conventional treatments. So she devoted all her energy to him in the hope that it would be enough to save him. And while arranging some herbs on the wound before bandaging it, she prayed to the gods that her beloved would wake up.

Geralt heard her sweet voice in the distance, and felt the warmth of her fingers brushing the skin of his leg. He tried to let himself be carried away by the warm energy that she transmitted to him, to drown the pain he felt in the peace that her voice awakened in him. He tried to concentrate on her so as not to faint, clinging to the scent of her skin and the melody in her voice as if his life depended on it. But even his stubbornness and unwavering willpower were not enough to combat the effects of the poison. And though he fought against it, eventually his eyes closed and everything went black.

The last thing he heard before he slipped into unconsciousness was the sweet voice of his sunshine telling him, “rest.”

Ciri did not move from Geralt's side. She insisted on taking care of him and controlling how his condition was progressing while the princess investigated the stinger she had extracted from the beast. She began by extracting some of the venom that was still inside it, being very careful not to let it come into contact with her skin while she transferred it to a glass vial. She did some tests with it, studying how it reacted when in contact with different herbs and medicinal plants, as well as some of the potions she had in her catalog. None of the results she got were what she expected, so she began to worry. Maybe this thing was different after all. Maybe she couldn't save him this time.

“I think something is wrong!” Ciri suddenly exclaimed, breaking her concentration. The princess didn't ask her any more follow-up questions, she simply followed her into the room and approached Geralt to examine him.

He was definitely not looking like he should. He had been resting for a few hours, yet his physical appearance had worsened. He looked paler than usual and his breathing was irregular. A thin layer of sweat adorned his skin, and when she reached up to touch his forehead she discovered that it was hot.

“This is wrong.” she muttered to herself, undoing the bandage so she could examine the progress of the wound on his leg.

“What's wrong? What's going on?” Ciri questioned the woman, desperate to hear her professional opinion.

Lifting the bandage, she discovered that the wound had only worsened. The skin was swollen and hot to the touch, and the black veins stood out even more against the pale skin, extending until they were lost under the tourniquet that was still tight around the witcher's leg. “He's getting worse...” she murmured, concern and confusion mingling in her voice. “He's not responding to the treatment.”

“There must be something we can do!” Ciri insisted and the woman looked at her, not knowing what to say. She didn't know of any other ways to treat a wound as such, at least not ways that weren't pure legends. She could always research and try some alternative method, but she wasn't sure she had enough time for that.

“Kaer... Morhen...” Geralt stammered weakly, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Vesemir will know what to do.”

She just gave Ciri a look and the girl ran off to the stable to prepare the horses for the journey. She stayed behind with Geralt, grabbing a couple of her remedies and the beast's tail before carrying the witcher on her shoulder once more, dragging him with some difficulty to the door. When Roach saw the state his owner was in, she lay down on the ground to allow him to climb onto her back more easily. She gave the mare a few gentle pats and kind compliments before helping Ciri mount Brego, the horse she had personally raised after finding him badly injured and forgotten on a road. Once the girl was safe and settled, she mounted Roach behind Geralt, wrapping her arms around him to hold him in place as she took the reins and they set off.

She didn't know the exact road to Kaer Morhen, only that it was south of where she lived. She had a few clues that gave her more details from the stories Geralt had told her about his life, but that was all. She had never asked him much about it, she knew that after being attacked the witchers kept to themselves and she didn't want to pressure him to reveal those details. She thought that maybe, if someday he felt comfortable enough with her to tell her about his home, he would. But now she was regretting not being more nosy.

Geralt was going in and out of consciousness, so while he could give directions from time to time, he was not the most reliable source. Ciri also didn't know the way since she had never been there before. However, Roach was a very smart horse who had traveled those roads many times in the past. So when they came to a crossroads, the mare advanced along the left-hand path with confidence. And before they knew it, they had reached Kaer Morhen.

“We need help!” she shouted and a middle-aged, white-haired man ran to meet her, startled by the commotion. His eyes fell on Geralt and she noticed the concern in them as he reached out a hand to touch the witcher's forehead.

“What happened?”

“He was attacked by a creature. He's been poisoned and I don't know how to stop it from spreading.”

“Get him inside!” At his command, a group of men grabbed Geralt and carried him inside. The young woman grabbed Ciri, holding the girl against her body so as not to lose her as she very timidly followed the others.

Both she and Ciri refused to leave Geralt, so Vesemir —the name given to them by the man who received them— had to work under the watchful eye of the two. He asked them about the attack and the young healer explained as best she could the details of the beast that had chased them. She didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified to discover that an experienced witcher like Vesemir didn't seem to know what kind of creature she was describing.

“This may help.” She said, pulling the beast's tail covered in an old cloth from her bag. “I tested the poison against every plant and healing element I know of and nothing seems to work.”

“That's not the only problem.” the man said, gesturing for her to come closer. “You see this inflammation here? It's full of the creature's venom.” Vesemir lightly pressed the lump on Geralt's skin and a couple of black drops escaped from the puncture wound. “The venom is lodging there for some reason, spreading slowly to maximize the damage. No treatment is going to work until we extract it.”

“How can I help?”

“Hold him still.”

Vesemir rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a leather bag containing a couple of syringes, needles and other useful artifacts for healing a witcher's wounds. He took the middle syringe, with a relatively long needle, disinfected it and then rested his gaze on the young woman in a silent way of telling her to get ready. She nodded slightly, tightening her grip on Geralt's leg to make sure he didn't move it. Vesemir then inserted the needle into the wound very carefully. It was important that he didn't accidentally burst the bubble of poison that had been created under the skin or it might end up spreading faster.

Geralt mumbled in pain and his body twisted as Vesemir began to extract the poison, but the young woman kept a firm grip on him. And when that wasn't enough to keep him still, she resorted to talking to him, just as she always did when he showed up injured on her doorstep. She murmured sweet words of encouragement and her soft voice seemed to be enough to bring peace to the witcher. His body stopped writhing and his rapid breathing gradually calmed down.

When Vesemir finished extracting the poison, the young woman watched in horror as the dark liquid almost filled the syringe. She wondered how that beast had been able to inject so much poison in such a short time and worried about Geralt's condition. How much poison had made it through his system? She liked to think not too much since he was still breathing, but the amount of viscous liquid trapped in the syringe worried her. Vesemir didn't seem particularly worried, but she wasn't sure she could read the expert witcher's emotions as easily as she could read Geralt's.

She watched him rummage through a cabinet full of elixirs until he came across a dark-colored one. He ripped off the cap with his teeth and poured some of the contents on the wound on Geralt's leg, who groaned in pain but did not open his eyes. Then he passed the bottle to her.

“Make him drink this.” Vesemir instructed him before disappearing out the door.

The young woman was assisted by Ciri in the task. The little girl helped her hold Geralt's head high enough so that he would not choke on the liquid while she parted his lips and placed the spout of the bottle between them. The witcher coughed a little as the liquid touched his throat, but it was only for a moment.

“It's alright, you're alright... everything is going to be fine.” She murmured words of encouragement as she emptied the elixir down his throat, though she wasn't entirely sure to whom she was directing such phrases, Geralt or herself.

When Vesemir returned, two other witchers accompanied him. At the man's request, they took Geralt and led him to his quarters to rest.

“Is he going to be alright?” a very worried Ciri asked as she watched the weak and fainting body of her only protector being carried away.

“Only time will tell. The next few hours are critical, if he makes it through the night I'm sure he'll make a full recovery.” Vesemir was honest, perhaps a little bit more than he should have been with a girl like Ciri. He was already busy analyzing the extracted poison and the tail of the beast that had attacked and almost ended the life of one of the best witchers left on the continent, so he didn't realize the impact of his words on her until he turned and met the expression of fear and worry on the girl's face.

“Geralt is strong, he's not going down without a fight. I've seen him pull through worse things.” He tried to reassure her. “You are invited to stay here, if you are friends of Geralt you are always welcome. Although I'm afraid I won't be able to accompany you, I have to study this thing in case Geralt's condition gets worse.”

“I can stay with him.” The young woman offered. “Keep an eye on him and call you if anything feels off.”

“Sure, that will be of much help. Thank you. Just ask one of the boys to guide you to Geralt's chambers.”

The young healer was very interested in learning about the elixirs and other things Vesemir had in that room. Some things she could recognize, some she had an idea of what they were and some were completely new. She was a curious person, especially when it came to her area of expertise, so she had a million questions to ask Vesemir. She would have loved to stay and see what tests he conducted on the poison and what things he looked for in the animal's severed tail. But her priority now was Geralt. She needed to know that he was okay and she wouldn't rest until she saw him open his eyes again. So she took Ciri's hand and headed for the door, but not before thanking Vesemir for the hospitality.

At first Geralt thought he was dreaming. His eyelids felt heavy and he was disoriented. The world around him was a blur and he could hear a ringing in his ears. He couldn't remember where he was or how he had gotten there, and the harder he tried to recall any images of the last few hours, the more difficult it became. It was like trying to remember a dream, the blurred and confused images escaping from his mind as he struggled to capture them. Yet somehow, in the midst of the chaos that was his mind at that moment, he found her. She was lying next to him, curled in on herself in the small space on the bed that he did not occupy. Her beautiful, delicate face was partially covered by her hair, but he didn't need to see it to know she was asleep. He found her before anything else, a beacon of clarity in the midst of the darkness clouding his mind. Only then, his mind decided to cooperate, recognizing images and patterns around him that helped make sense of where he was.

And yet, Geralt remained focused on her. If the dizziness didn't make him feel like in a dream, seeing her like that, so relaxed and peaceful next to him, definitely did. It was a scene that almost didn't seem real after a long year of distance and yearning. It was a sight he hadn't had in a year, her curled up beside him, sleeping peacefully next to the warmth of his body. There was no weird tension in the air or unspoken discomfort like that other night. She genuinely looked comfortable and calm next to him and Geralt couldn't help but smile.

But beyond that, her figure sleeping next to him was a beautiful sight he had never had the pleasure of having in his own home. Their encounters always occurred outside, in the maelstrom of the real world or in the calm of her hut in the forest, but never in his home. Geralt had awakened many mornings with the young woman in his arms, but none had been in his own bed, covered by his own blankets, hidden in the safety of his own room. He discovered then that he liked the feeling of sharing that space with her. It made everything he felt for her feel more real. It made his longing to stay by her side seem more feasible. She was there with him, caring for him and keeping him company, and the world seemed right again.

Geralt tried to sit up in order to better admire her beauty, but instantly regretted it when he felt a sharp pain in his leg. He let out a low grunt, bringing his hand to the bandage wrapped around his thigh with a grimace of confusion. Then flashes of the last few hours overwhelmed his mind. He remembered fighting the monster that chased them in the forest. He remembered the sharp sting of its tail and the burn of its venom. He remembered Ciri's worried look and reaching Kaer Morhen. But most of all, he remembered the gentle touch of his healer on his fevered skin and the sweet sound of her voice lulling him to peace as she always did. Her voice echoed in his mind and the mere memory seemed to be enough to silence the ringing in his ears and ease the pain in his weak and tired body. That didn't surprise him, though. Geralt had long since ceased to be amazed by the effect she had on him. He had learned to accept it, just as he accepted the day turning to night or the winter turning to spring. She was his light, a warm sun on the first day of the equinox that lengthened the day and melted the ice to allow the fields to bloom. She was his sunshine and he realized now that he had spent the last year living in an eternal winter to which he never wished to return.

The movement of the bed beside him brought Geralt out of his thoughts. He leaned over just in time to see his princess open her eyes as she stretched slightly. He could admire the confusion in her expression for a few brief seconds as her sleep clouded mind struggled to figure out where she was. Then her eyes opened wide and her gaze fell upon him. He was glad to see a glint of joy in them at finding him awake and had to bite the inside of his lip to hold back the smile as he saw her jump up in bed.

“Geralt! Are you okay? How are you feeling?” She questioned him with a strange mixture of excitement and concern in her voice.

“As if I had died and was brought back.” He replied with his classic dry humor, though it wasn't that far from the truth. His injured leg still ached when he moved it and his muscles felt tired as if he had spent all night battling a striga.

“You're not that far off.” She shrugged, rising from the bed to pour him a glass of water. Geralt accepted it gladly, drinking the contents in a couple of long sips. Boy was he thirsty!

“How long was I out?”

“Considering you've been in and out of consciousness since the attack, I'd say almost two days.” Geralt was surprised by that answer. In his mind it had only been a couple of hours, but apparently he remembered less than he thought.

Then, Ciri's worried face presented itself in his mind. “Ciri!” He exclaimed, jerking upright. He regretted moving once more, though, when the pain forced him to let out a grunt.

“She's alright!” The young woman hastened to say as she helped Geralt sit up. She took the pillows and stacked them carefully against his back, giving him a softer surface to lean on. Then she helped him recline on them, taking advantage of the moment of proximity to run her hand over his forehead and check for fever. “She's sleeping in the room next door.” She explained as she arranged the blankets so he wouldn't be cold. She knew he had grown up there and was probably used to the cold temperatures, but boy was the witchers' lair cold! “That girl refused to leave your side! I had to fight her to get her to go to sleep. She wanted to be here when you woke up, but I didn't want her here in case...” she trailed off. In case he didn't wake up was what she was going to say, but she couldn't bring herself to utter those words. Although she didn't have to, Geralt knew it when he noticed the sudden sadness that flashed across her face. “Anyway, I had to promise her that she would be the first one I would look for when you woke up to get her to go to sleep. And even then she stayed for another hour here.”

Geralt laughed, that sounded like Ciri. “Thank you... for keeping her safe.”

A silence formed as she took it upon herself to check his vitals. His breathing seemed normal, the same with his pulse —well, normal for a witcher. He no longer had a fever and when she uncovered the wound on his leg she noticed that the skin around it was in better condition. There were no more black lines or reddened areas. It was still somewhat swollen, but the skin was no longer warm to the touch, which was a good sign. Geralt enjoyed feeling her hands on his body, traveling from his forehead to his cheeks and gently brushing the skin of his leg. He swore the warmth of her fingers was all he needed to make the pain in his body go away. He felt a little more alive with every caress, every accidental touch. The magic of her touch slowly melted the hard layer of ice that had formed around him after a long year of harsh winter, but this time Geralt didn't fight it. He wanted her to do it, he wanted her light to finally allow spring to come. He was done running away from her.

“I'm sorry,” she said in a soft, almost inaudible voice as she changed the bandage on his leg. “I should have done more to help you... I just... I didn't know what to do.”

It took Geralt a few seconds to understand what she was saying, not because of the low volume of her voice, but because he found it incredible to hear the guilt in her words. “You saved me.” He pointed out as if it were obvious and she let out a snort.

“You almost died because of me!”

“I almost died because I was too slow and I got attacked by an unknown creature. I didn't expect you to know what to do, even I wouldn't have known what to do. But you brought me here in time and you keep Ciri safe, that's all that matters.”

The young woman smiled, not as big of a smile as Geralt had hoped, but enough to know that his words did have some sort of effect in easing the guilt that for some reason he didn't understand, she felt for what had happened. “That's nice of you to say.”

“It's the truth.”

“Whatever,” she said as she put away her leather case of ointments and healing potions. When she sat back down on the bed, Geralt noticed she had a nervous look on her face. “I would like to stay here with you and help you get back on your feet. I feel like I owe you that. It wouldn't be for too long, I mean, you had a great recovery so far and I'm sure you'll be alright, but I wouldn't feel right leaving you before I know for sure that you're okay... I know this place is... special, I guess, and that you don't let many outsiders in... and I wouldn't want to intrude, but I just couldn't leave without making sure you're okay.”

Geralt found her nervous rambling adorable. He would like to say that the feeling she felt was unfounded, but after how he had treated her he understood why she would be uncomfortable talking about such a thing. The last time she had made an effort to bring their worlds together he had rejected her. And not only that, but he had completely disappeared from her life for a year. He completely understood her nervousness and felt terrible knowing it was his fault.

“I want you to stay.”

Those simple five words were enough to arouse a sense of joy she had not felt in a long time. Those were the words she had waited all this time to hear, the confirmation that Geralt was willing to share some of his world with her after all. She would be lying if she said she didn't feel somewhat special. She knew that not many people had the privilege of walking through the gates of Kaer Morhen not having been raised there and she felt honored to be one of those few. A small smile tugged at her lips and Geralt knew then that his words had had the desired effect.

“Besides, I think your presence can be a good influence on Ciri. You can help me guide her on the right path and keep her safe.”

“I'll try my best, but I don't know as much about magic as other mages.”

“That's not the only thing you can teach her.” 

Geralt knew very well that she had not been professionally trained. She had never gone to Arethusa to have her talents molded and sharpened, but that wasn't important to him. Geralt valued her for more than her magical abilities, he always had. For him one of her best traits was her personality, her way of facing the world with courage and optimism. She was one of the strongest people he knew, and he wasn't sure she knew it. Ciri needed someone like her, someone who could guide her through the dark shadow of tragedy and loss that clouded her path to reach the side of light. He could give her the tools to defend herself and face her fears, but she could teach Ciri to see the world from another perspective, a more positive and joyful one, something she desperately needed.

“I think it will do her good to have someone like you around.” Geralt smiled, his hand reaching for hers on the blanket. He felt the energy coursing through his body as they touched, her warmth melting the ice around his heart. The atmosphere in the room changed, suddenly more intimate and special. He wanted to tell her that her company was good for him too, but regretted it at the last moment. He didn't want to overwhelm her or sweet-talk her into forgiving him. If she decided to stay by his side, he wanted it to be her own decision.

The moment was cut short when the bedroom door opened, revealing a freshly awakened Ciri. The girl's eyes lit up with joy as they met the figure of a very lucid Geralt sitting up in bed. She uttered his name in an exclamation of surprise and crossed the room in a matter of seconds to throw herself into his arms.

“Careful!” the young woman warned her, “He's still hurt.”

“You were supposed to call me!” Ciri ignored her, choosing to scold her for not waking her up.

“I was just about to come get you.” She laughed, stepping aside so the girl could sit next to Geralt on the bed. “But since you're here, I'll go let Vesemir know Geralt's awake so he can come take a look at him.”

Contrary to popular belief, witchers were capable of feeling human emotions. That was something the young woman already knew, although living in Kaer Morhen surrounded by the last remaining witchers on the continent allowed her to appreciate the degree of emotions they felt. They were a strong brotherhood and cared deeply for each other, as evidenced by the tree of the fallen, as she called it. A place where the medallions of all the witchers who had perished hung, with more being added with each passing winter. But besides that, she learned that they were quite a fun group. Perhaps it was because they were in the safety of their home, resting after long months of hard work, but their attitudes were not at all what she expected. They kept telling jokes and playing tricks on each other, admittedly rather ordinary for her taste in some cases, but they didn't fail to make her laugh.

They were respectful to her —she suspected Geralt had something to do with that—, but still made her feel welcome in their home. She found it interesting to be surrounded by the most intimidating and roughest looking men on the continent and feel as safe as she did in her own home. She was sure that if her first encounter with many of them had occurred outside the walls of Kaer Morhen, her opinion would be different. Just as when she first met Geralt, it was very likely that the imposing figure of the witchers would have intimidated her and it would have taken her a long time to discover that they were actually very nice people. Lambert and Coen were her favorites, their constant bickering always amused her greatly. Although sometimes she had to confront them to make them be nicer to poor Ciri. They were training her along with Geralt just as Vesemir had trained them and it was the woman's job to remind them that she was just a child.

Vesemir was very good to her as well. Not only had he not complained when Geralt announced that she would be staying with them, but he agreed to indulge her curiosity. He let her watch him work on the analysis of the tail of the monster that had attacked them, even asking for her assistance in some things. They did not reach any satisfactory conclusions, but it was interesting to participate in the process. She learned a lot about the witchers and their creation from Vesemir, as well as the elixirs that helped them on the battlefield. He was a very wise man, and she was honored that he trusted her with his knowledge.

However, her favorite thing was seeing Geralt so relaxed and free, laughing with his siblings and acting like a father to Ciri. It was a side of him she didn't know. Of course he laughed and had fun with her when they spent time together in her hut, but that was different. Their encounters were always filled with this... tension in the air, tainted with unspoken feelings and silent longings. It was a constant countdown, the black cloud of reality always near no matter how hard they both tried to ignore it. From the moment Geralt walked through the door of her home, she knew that the clock had started ticking and that the happiness that was invading her at that moment would come to an end sooner or later. But there was no such thing in Kaer Morhen. There was no rush and no time, so Geralt could relax and be himself. And thanks to that she had discovered a much more... playful and joyful side of him. And she loved it.

What she also loved was the nickname that others had for him. The first time someone had called him wolf, she thought she had heard wrong. They were eating at a table all together and the shouting made it hard to even hear Ciri sitting next to her. But the next time it happened there was no noise to block her hearing. She and Geralt were in the kitchen since this time it was his turn to prepare dinner. He had gone hunting in the morning and now he was in charge of skinning the animal for her to cook. She didn't pay much attention to the conversation Geralt had with Vesemir when he appeared in the kitchen, focused on cutting the vegetables for the stew without hurting her fingers. But her ears pricked up when she heard him utter that nickname.

Wolf

The word echoed in her mind for a while, drowning out whatever was going on around her as she cooked. It was a fitting nickname for Geralt now that she thought about it. Everything about him screamed wolf, both externally and internally. Beyond his imposing presence, great hunting skills and impressive agility, he often hid behind a cold and hostile appearance. When he entered a room he could evoke the same fear and respect in people who did not know him that a wild wolf evoked in a traveler who stumbled upon it unexpectedly on his journey. The witchers had a certain reputation among the common people, built on myths and lies long spread across the continent. And while they were not true, Geralt found them convenient. It was easier to travel the world when people feared him —at least, most of the time. But that cold attitude was a sham, a shield protecting who he really was. He liked to present himself as a lone wolf who didn't need anyone, but in reality he cared about people, especially those closest to him. And just like a wolf protecting his pack, Geralt was willing to do anything to care for those he loved the most. Sometimes she thought that was exactly why he decided to stay away from people. He cared too much and that could be terrifying, not only because of the state of vulnerability it left him in, but also because of the degree of atrocities he would be willing to commit to protect his own.

“Wolf, huh?” She muttered as Vesemir left. She discovered she liked the nickname even more as she uttered it aloud. It was sweet and it felt good to finally have something to fight back with when he called her sunshine. “I like it,” she smiled, ”It suits you.”

“How so?” Geralt arched an eyebrow, wiping his hands on a rag before taking a few steps towards her. The woman pushed aside the knife she held in her hands, looking up to stare at the witcher.

“Well, you're imposing and agile as one... you're incredibly observant and great at hunting... and you're willing to fight tooth and nail to protect your own.” She spoke thoughtfully, listing characteristics as they came to mind. Geralt admired her with a slight grimace of amusement, thinking how much he missed having those kinds of conversations with her. “You're like a big scary white wolf who acts all tough but that's all for show, lots of bark and little bite.”

Geralt let out a snort. “It is?” he inquired and she nodded, even though she knew it wasn't technically true. He was quite capable of actually following through on his threats when he made them, but it was much more fun for her to tease him about his soft side.

“Yes! I mean, it took me a couple of weeks to earn your trust and then you were rolling over and showing me your belly like a dog asking for pets.”

Geralt let out a sarcastic laugh, but the truth was he couldn't quite say anything to contradict her. He wished he could wipe the smug smile off her face, but she was right, he had taken a liking to her rather quickly. And worst of all, it had happened without him noticing until it was too late. He became accustomed to her company — to wake up to the sound of her voice and listen to the sweet melody of her laughter— to such an extent that when she was gone the world felt wrong. He could not pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with her, one day she was a frightened girl asking for his help in the forest and the next she was the ray of sunshine that brightened his days. Just like that, without warning, she had made a place in his heart that she refused to give up no matter how hard he tried to push her away.

“But it's okay, I like that duality.” Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “You're my big, scary, but surprisingly gentle white wolf.”

The young woman smiled tenderly as she used her fingers to push a lock of hair away from Geralt's face. It was an unconscious thing, a movement engraved in the memory of her muscles after having done it so many times in their long nights of conversations. When she realized it, she felt the urge to move her hand away, embarrassed by her audacity. Their relationship was in a very gray area, things were not clear at all. She was no longer angry with him, but things between them had not yet returned to normal, so the intimate gesture seemed out of place.

Or at least that's what she thought until she saw the way Geralt leaned over her hand. It was probably an unconscious movement as well, but she used the moment to test the waters. She let her fingers trail along his temple, slowly making their way down to his cheek. She did not dare to look him in the eye, so she focused her gaze on the movement of her hand, admiring the marks and scars that adorned the witcher's skin. She noticed that there were a couple that were new and couldn't help but wonder about the stories behind them. What kind of adventures had he had while he was distanced from her? What monster could have caused those injuries? How had he healed them? Had it been him or maybe it was someone else's work? Had someone else taken her place in the time that had passed?

She didn't like where her thoughts were going, so she covered the marks with her fingers, cradling Geralt's cheek. Then she mustered up the courage and looked up, curious as to what might be going through his mind at that moment. She found the witcher's golden eyes were fixed on her, admiring her with longing and, dare she say it, love. There was a warmth in his gaze that drew her to him. It made her feel seen in a way she hadn't felt since the moment he left. He was the only one who could make her feel that way, so safe, so desired... so loved. And he was the only one she wanted to look at her that way.

She didn't realize how much closer she had gotten to Geralt until she felt his nose brush against hers. His warm breath mingled with hers as it escaped her half-open lips, caressing them with the promise of that long-awaited kiss that never came. She wanted to move, to close the little distance that separated them and finally discover what it would feel like to kiss him, but it was impossible for her to do so. She was trapped under Geralt's intense gaze. Like a moth to the flame, she was lost in the golden glow of his eyes, waiting expectantly for his next move.

But the kiss never came. Only this time it wasn't because she backed down or because he regretted it at the last second as had happened in the past. This time it was Ciri's interruption that broke the moment and forced them apart.

“Lambert sent me to help you because he says you're taking too long so- OH! Sorry, sorry!” The girl blushed upon finding them in such a compromising position. She instinctively backed away, ready to run out the same way she had come, but the woman stopped her.

“It’s fine, Ciri! Stay, please. I’m definitely going to need some help cooking enough food to satisfy those gluttons out there.”

“Come on, focus! I know you can do it.” The woman tried to encourage the girl, who was having trouble generating any kind of magical reaction from the moment they had started the lesson.

She didn't know much about magic outside of healing, so that was her starting point. From what Geralt had told her about Ciri, the girl had much more power than she did, so she figured that teaching her to channel her magic in one aspect gave her enough tools to begin to control other aspects of her powers. She began with easy lessons, remembering the things her mentor had taught her when they were just starting out. She had previously told her about the potions she made and the type of plants she needed for each as a way of easing her way into things. But several lessons ago she had moved on to more complicated things that involved more active use of her powers.

They were sitting in the common room, near the fire. It was a cold day, though that hadn't stopped Ciri from going out to train with her wooden sword. Geralt was the one who had to drag her inside to meet the healer for her magic lessons, and she didn't seem very enthusiastic about it. For that very reason she had given the girl a relatively simple exercise, the same one they had been practicing for two lessons. In a pot was a dried plant. Its stems were still green in some places, but much duller, and the leaves were withering more and more with each passing day. The goal they were working towards was to revive the plant, although she would settle for any kind of progress. The woman remembered that the same exercise had taken her quite some time, so she showed patience to Ciri. But on the other hand, the girl was supposed to have much more power than she did, so she was slightly concerned about the lack of response.

Ciri snorted. “I'm trying! It's not easy.” It was clear that she was frustrated but she had to keep pushing if she wanted to get any kind of reaction from her.

“Not hard enough!”

She was not referring to Ciri's efforts in her lessons, it was clear that she gave everything she could. The problem was that she always arrived tired, if she arrived at all. She wasn't giving her magical training the attention it deserved, preferring the sword and the training ground outside to mastering her natural abilities. She understood it to an extent, it was easier to train the body than the mind, but she needed to see how important it was to learn to manage her powers. Those were the ones that would be with her for the rest of her life, the ones that could save her in a situation of extreme danger, and she needed to know how to use them to her advantage.

“You're focusing too much on learning how to fight when this is just as important.”

“Maybe I am because at least that's where I'm making progress.”

“I know it's hard, Ciri, but you have a responsibility. Your powers are something extraordinary, but you owe it to yourself and everybody around you to learn how to control them.” Her voice was not accusatory or dismissive. On the contrary, she made an effort to sound soft and empathetic. She wanted to make the girl understand the importance of her lessons and knew she would not succeed by making her angry. Besides, she knew very well how frustrating it could be when things didn't go as expected, she had gone through that too when she was the one learning to handle her powers.

However, Ciri didn't take it as kindly as she had hoped. “What do you know about responsibility? You abandoned your own people! At least I'm trying to fight to avenge mine!” The girl raised her voice, jumping up from her seat and giving her mentor an angry look.

“Ciri!” Geralt, who was sitting in the corner of the room fixing his armor, wanted to intervene. However, the woman waved him to stand aside. She understood that it was misplaced anger and didn't need him to jump in for her.

“It’s fine. You are right, Ciri. I abandoned my own people because it wasn’t a safe place for me… or anyone like me, if I’m being honest. It was the hardest decision I ever had to make… Realizing that my own home wasn’t safe for me was heartbreaking, but strangely liberating.” The girl's gaze softened and she resumed her place beside her. “I was trapped in that place, surrounded with people that hated me for who I was, for things I couldn’t control. My own parents thought I was a disgrace… they hid me, silence me, broke my spirits in the hopes I wouldn’t become my great grandmother. And for the longest time I let that get into me. I let them define who I was. I hated myself and my powers because everyone else did… and the more I tried to ignore them, the more I tried to suppress them, the worse they got. I had to learn to let go, to stop focusing on the negative things because it was doing me no good.”

Ciri looked at her with glazed eyes, the anger in her expression slowly morphing into sadness. “How do you do it?” her voice was almost a whisper that broke the woman's heart. She could hear so much pain in those simple words that she couldn't help but reach out to entwine her hand with hers. Suddenly, the girl's inner struggle was evident on her face. She could feel the sadness and weariness that overwhelmed her. She had been through so much at such a young age, it wasn't fair. “I can't let it go.”

“You don't have to… you just have to take control of yourself and stop letting your fear and anger control you.”

“How can I do that when everyone I love is dead… when everywhere I go I bring blood and destruction?”

“You make a choice about who you want to be because you are the only one that has the power to do that, to define yourself.” The woman moved a little closer to Ciri, lightly tightening her grip on her hand in support. “You see, magic is extremely connected to our emotions, to our most instinctive reactions. If you see it as a bad thing, as a burden, a curse… if you see yourself as a monster, a murderer that can only create chaos and destruction, then you are letting your fear define who you are. You are limiting your abilities and the chance to explore your potential.”

“How are you so sure that I'm not… a monster?” 

A tear rolled down Ciri's cheek and the woman was quick to wipe it away with her thumb. She had to hold back her own tears, focusing on being a support for the girl at that moment. But she would be lying if she said she wasn't able to see herself in the frightened eyes of the young princess. She knew that fear very well, she had experienced it firsthand and that's why she wanted to help her overcome it. It was not fair that she was going through it, no one deserved to go through the horrors she had gone through at such a young age. Ciri was alone, homeless, without family, and forced to discover the terrifying foreign world at the same time she was discovering herself. It was an extremely vulnerable position to be in, but the witch would try her best to accompany her every step of the way. She didn't have to go through it all alone.

“Because nobody is born a monster.” The girl said with gentle simplicity, a sweet smile growing at the corner of her lips. “I grew up ashamed of who I was. My parents dreaded the day I was old enough to take over my kingdom. They couldn't wait to hand me over to the first nobleman who seemed competent enough, so that if one day I became unstable and dangerous because of my powers he could stop me from destroying everything they had worked so hard to build... No matter how hard I tried to make things right, they trusted a stranger more than their own daughter. Most of my childhood was clouded by this dark shadow of sadness and loneliness, until I realized that was exactly what they wanted. They wanted me to be afraid, to be alone and ashamed because then they could control me, mold me into whatever they wanted me to be. Choosing something else... choosing to be happy with who I am, choosing to help others and use my powers for good was a decision I had to make... it's a decision I make every morning when I wake up, and it's not an easy one. The easy thing is to be consumed and paralyzed by fear. Seeing the good in life and in yourself is a conscious decision that you have to make. It is one that only you can make, but I promise to be there for you when you need me. You don't have to be alone in this.”

Ciri threw herself into her mentor's arms and she held her tight against her chest for as long as she needed. She buried one hand in the girl's blonde hair and gently rubbed her back with the other until she could no longer feel her sobs against her shoulder. Her eyes searched Geralt's with a worried expression. Ciri had so much bottled up inside her that suddenly the potential danger of her unexplored and uncontrolled magic ceased to worry her. However, when her eyes met the witcher's she found nothing but calm in them. He admired their embrace with a knowing smile and she knew then that he approved of the way she had handled the situation.

Seeing the way Ciri opened up to her, Geralt was glad he had asked for her help. Swallowing his pride had definitely been the right decision. The girl didn't just need protection. She needed guidance, support and an understanding that he, as much as he wanted to, could not give her. But his sweet sunshine could, she was always open to help whoever came to her door. Geralt knew from the start that he had to take Ciri with her, not just because of her knowledge of magic or her empathic abilities, but because she was the one he always turned to when he needed guidance or a reason to keep fighting. She had a way of brightening people up that was unique. He used to think it was part of her nature, her warm, positive personality that was finally able to shine through once she was out of the prison she used to call home. Although after hearing what she told Ciri, he realized that brightening others and making them feel at peace was an effort she made every day precisely because she knew the dangerously cold and dark depths to which the mind could descend when there was no such support.

“You can rest for now, my dear. It's fine, you have done enough for one day.” The sweet voice of his sunshine brought Geralt out of his thoughts. He watched as she patted Ciri's back as the little girl wiped away her tears.

“No, it’s okay. I want to try it one more time.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to, we can continue the lesson tomorrow after you have a good rest.”

Ciri insisted so she stepped aside to let her proceed. The girl took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm her emotions as her mentor had taught her. She raised her hands to the plant that withered with each day she failed and closed her eyes. She tried her best to quiet the voices that always echoed in her mind, the ones that scared her and held her back every time magic was mentioned. She erased the images of Cintra in flames, the figure of the dark knight chasing her and the horrors that followed her every time her powers were activated. She replaced those dark visions with her mentor's words of encouragement, repeating them over and over in her mind as a way of convincing herself that all would be well and that she had nothing to fear.

Then she felt a warmth tickling her fingers and heard the gasp of the woman sitting next to her. She opened her eyes instinctively, concern already written in her expression as she looked around for answers —and to make sure she hadn't hurt anyone. The woman smiled at her and motioned with her head to look at the potted plant resting on the table. The plant itself hadn't changed much. It still looked dry and dull, but the stems were a brighter green and some of the leaves had turned from dark orange to an almost greenish yellow.

“You did it!”

“I did it!” Ciri threw herself into her mentor's arms once again, only this time with a big look of happiness on her lips. When she pulled away, she took the pot in her hands to admire her work more closely. “Geralt, look! I did it! I finally did something!”

Geralt joined in the celebrations, giving Ciri a pat on the back and a few words of encouragement to let her know he was proud of her unbreakable spirit. She fit in so well with the rest of the witchers that he was starting to get a little scared. She was as stubborn and broken as most of them. But she was also as hard working and fierce as they were. He could see a lot of himself reflected in her, in fact. She had the same eagerness to go out and prove herself in the real world that both he and his brothers had when they were just starting their training. That same impatience that Vesemir had fought so hard to quell and that reality had finally destroyed. He had to keep an eye on that.

When the moment of euphoria was over, Geralt sent Ciri to rest. “You have done enough for one day” he told her and this time the girl disappeared up the stairs with a smile on her lips, happy to have proven herself.

“I was nice what you said to her.” Geralt spoke once he was sure Ciri could not hear them.

“I just told her what I wish someone would have told me when I was her age.”

“You never told me about it… what your parents did to you.”

“Well... it's a part of my life I don't like to remember often.” She shrugged, leaning her hips back against the table as she stared at a fixed point on the wall in front of her, lost in thought. Geralt admired her delicate profile, and with a heavy heart he wondered what kind of sad memories might be swirling through her mind at that moment. “Although, in a strange way, it made me who I am today, so I guess something good came out of all that shit in the end.” She also thought that thanks to her parents' mistreatment —and her consequent escape— her path had crossed Geralt's and she would always be grateful for that. However, she decided not to mention it.

“Just when I thought I couldn't love you anymore, I discover that your act of rebellion against the world that treated you horribly is to be the kindest, sweetest person on the continent.” Geralt let out a laugh, returning his attention to his half-repaired armor that had been left forgotten on the table. But she remained silent, frozen in place.

Geralt had not thought carefully before speaking —something that happened to him more often than he would like to admit when he was with her. He didn't even realize the implications of his words until it was too late. He just stated a fact, a simple fact that had been on his mind ever since he had overheard her talking to Ciri: finding out that after all the bad things she had been through she was still the sunshine she was, made him love her even more. Geralt had always known that she was a strong and extremely brave woman, but this was the first time he really knew the extent of that strength. He had seen honest men be consumed by resentment and hatred for far less, so the fact that she strove to be a source of light and positivity not only for herself but for everyone who crossed her path was a reason to admire her.

He was so entranced by her that he didn't notice what he said —what he inadvertently admitted— until a few seconds later, when he wondered at her sudden silence. When he looked up, he found her eyes fixed on him. Those beautiful eyes that normally brought him peace, now put his insides in knots. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Geralt was paralyzed. His mind was completely blank, not knowing what to do or say, as he waited for some sign from his sunshine.

“I-” She started to speak, but before she could say anything else the doors to the hall opened, ushering in a group of noisy witchers who had just come in from hunting for dinner.

After the moment was broken, neither she nor Geralt brought up the subject again. They both thought about it countless times, wondering in the nights before bed what would have happened if they hadn't been interrupted. However, they were too afraid to face the situation, so they let the tension linger in the air, increasing with the growing list of unanswered questions.

Another great thing she had discovered about living in Kaer Morhen was that there was a pack of wolves nearby. The first time she had seen them was one afternoon walking around the fortress with Geralt. He hadn't let her get close, of course, claiming it was too dangerous since they were wild animals. That hadn't stopped her at the time and luckily it had never resulted in any injuries, but one never knew when their luck might change.

“That's why you're here,” she had replied, ”you'll save me if they try to eat me.”

“I don't know, will I?” He had joked in his characteristic dry tone. “If you get hurt after my warnings it is entirely on you.”

She snorted and punched him in the arm, though a smile tugged at her lips. “Of course you will! You can't live without me.” She had said that as a joke, but it was much closer to reality than she probably imagined. He was willing to do anything to keep her safe because he truly couldn't live without her. He had tried for a year and had been miserable every second he was away from her.

After having to drag her away from the wolves that day, Geralt really shouldn't have been surprised to find her playing with them weeks later. He knew her and the effect she tended to have on animals, but even so, he found it impressive the way the wolves reacted to her touch. She was sitting on the cold ground covered by a thin layer of snow. Next to her rested an adult wolf who closed his eyes with pleasure every time she stroked his head. In her lap a puppy let her scratch its belly, stretching out on her with every movement of her fingers as if preparing to take a long nap. In the distance the rest of the pack watched the two brave –or foolish— enough to approach a human, making sure they were safe.

She was speaking to them, Geralt could see in the distance that she was moving her lips, and hear the whisper of her voice on the wind, but he could not make out what she was saying —though he could almost imagine it, he had been through a few similar situations with her in the past. He was lost in thought as he admired her playing with the wild animals like they were mere domesticated dogs. A smile formed on his lips as he thought that at least he wasn't the only one completely enraptured by her aura, the entire animal kingdom joined him in that sentiment. Even his own horse loved her more than him. But he understood Roach, she was someone special and he had been lucky to cross her path.

“I see why you like her.” Vesemir's voice startled him, when had he arrived there? “She is a lovely woman.”

“She is indeed.” Geralt agreed without looking away from his princess, who was now laughing in amusement at something the wolf cub in her lap had done.

“Are you sure you're doing the right thing?” The older witcher spoke again and Geralt's brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and concentration. “Are you sure she is compatible with our way of living... with our life's mission? There's less of us every winter and something big is coming, I know it... I can lose you, wolf.”

Geralt was silent for a moment, contemplating Vesemir's words. The gods knew that he had asked himself that same question multiple times since he had met her. The answer always changed depending on his mood. Sometimes —especially when he spent a lot of time with her in her hut— he was sure that his future was at her side and that nothing could ever keep him away from her. Other times, when the pressures of reality forced him to abandon his fantasies, he recognized that their relationship was complicated at best and impossible at worst. But all that had changed after she was attacked by a Bruxa.

After failing to protect her that time he convinced himself that their relationship should end, not because it was incompatible with his life itself, but because he was too afraid of losing her. The images of that attack had not left his mind in the year he had spent away from her. It plagued his nightmares when he slept and his thoughts when he was awake. He was so horrified at the thought of losing her because he was unable to protect her from danger that he was willing to endure a life of misery just to make sure she was all right. In his experience, missing what could never be was better than mourning the loss of those who were gone and could never come back. So he endured the gray days and sleepless nights, finding comfort in knowing that his princess was safe and sound in her hut, far from the danger he represented.

Geralt had convinced himself that this was for the best because it was the simplest option, the clearest solution to his problem. Keep her safe by staying away from her and wait for the time to pass and help him forget about his feelings. But now he was not so sure. Maybe it was the thrill of being reunited with her after yearning to feel her touch for a year. Or maybe it was the optimism of his sunshine speaking through him, but Geralt was beginning to consider that maybe there was a future for them where neither of them had to suffer. It probably wouldn't be easy, but life's hardships hadn't stopped her before, so why should they stop him?

“We can make it work.” He finally said and for the first time since she had entered his life, Geralt felt a sense of certainty as he spoke those words.

Vesemir didn't answer him, although Geralt didn't give him much time to do so because seconds after those words left his mouth, he was walking towards her. When he approached her, the first thing she did was make excuses for what she was doing, expecting Geralt to scold her for not listening to his warnings. But he wasn't interested in that, he had far more important revelations to share with her.

“I know what you are going to say, it's dangerous and all that, but they came to me for help!” she hurried to say while petting the wolves to make sure Geralt's presence didn't disturb them. “This little one was hurt! I couldn't let him die, he's too adorable and fluffy! I saved his life and now they like me.”

“Do you remember what you told me when I arrived at your home with Ciri?” Geralt ignored her rambling. She looked up from the puppy gently nibbling her fingers to meet his eyes. He wasn't sure if the look of confusion on her face was due to his sudden question or because she didn't know the answer, so he continued speaking. “You wanted to know why it took me so long to come back... I've been thinking a lot about that, especially after hearing you talk to Ciri the other day.”

The woman rose on her feet from the cold ground, leaving the wolf pup next to his brother. “Geralt, what is this about?” she inquired, wide eyes watching him curiously and somewhat warily, like a deer startled by the presence of a noisy stranger.

“All my life, the one I remember at least, I’ve worked towards one goal and one goal alone… kill all monsters on the continent. It’s what I was trained to do and I never questioned it… I never wanted to do anything else, until I met you. What I feel for you…” 

Geralt paused, struggling to find the right words to describe the way his day brightened with her mere presence, how his mood improved if he saw her smile.

“I never felt anything like that before,” he let out a sigh, resigned to the fact that he could never explain in simple words what she made him feel without even realizing it. “That scared me. I was scared of what it could mean for the future, but more importantly, I was terrified of losing you. So I convinced myself that running away from you, from what I felt, was the right thing to do to protect you and keep you safe from all the shit I bring along... Now I know I was just protecting myself. You tried to tell me, but I wasn't ready to listen.”

She took a step toward him, looking up at him with wide eyes that sparkled in the weak winter sun. “Geralt, what are you saying?” She needed to hear him say it. After so much time of feelings left unsaid, she needed to hear the words coming out of his mouth so there would be no more conflicts or misunderstandings. She needed to be sure of what he felt.

“I'm saying I'm sorry... I'm saying I love you and I want you at my side, If you still want me too.”

She replied in the most direct way she could without using words. With a quick step, she closed the distance that separated them and joined her lips to Geralt's. As much as she had longed for that kiss, it was a timid one. Her lips barely brushed his, their noses brushing against each other as they leaned in a soft, intimate caress. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to enjoy the warmth that flooded her body as she felt Geralt reciprocate her kiss immediately. Their lips moved slowly, savoring the moment. It didn't last long, but it was enough to take her breath away.

When they pulled apart, she looked up at Geralt through her eyelashes. She met the amber of his eyes shining in a way she had never seen before. His hand rested on her cheek, calloused fingers caressing the soft skin. It was nothing new, yet the way he was looking at her made her cheeks warm. There was a softness in his eyes that she did not recognize. He admired her as if she were a lost relic, something of priceless value that he couldn't believe he had in front of his eyes.

And in a way, that was true. Even though he had just bared his soul to her. Even though she had kissed him. Even though deep down, he always knew his feelings were reciprocated. Despite everything, Geralt still couldn't believe that a woman as wonderful as her would choose to love him. Of all the people on the continent, of all the places that existed, she loved him and wanted to be by his side. As happy as he was that she did, it didn't feel real. Geralt did not feel worthy of the love of such a good woman, but he was willing to work hard every day of his life so that she would not regret her decision.

Geralt was the one who initiated the second kiss, which was much more confident than the first. His hand remained on her cheek while the other found its place on her waist, holding her close against him. Her lips were soft and warm against his, like a summer morning breeze —just as he had imagined them. When he sucked on her lower lip, she let out the subtlest moan, her hands clinging to his shoulders for support. Geralt became addicted to it instantly, feeling a strange sense of pride at having elicited such a reaction from her. He repeated the action, taking a mental note of the way she reacted to every little movement of his lips. He was desperate to know more about her, to find out the other sounds she made and the various ways her body would respond to his touch, but he restrained himself from deepening the kiss any further. They would have time for that.

“That was...” She tried to speak when they broke apart, her mind clouded with euphoria struggling to find words to describe what that kiss made her feel.

“Late.” Geralt finished for her, resting his forehead on hers.

“I was going to say 'better than I imagined', but 'late' works too.” She let out a chuckle. “So, what now? How do we go on from here?” It was a genuine question she had. She had fantasized many times about this moment —the big confession, the first kiss, the way it would all feel—, but it never got any further. It felt so far away, so impossible, that she had never really spent time thinking beyond happily ever after.

“Well, we can start by getting you out of the cold.” Geralt smiled, finally pulling away from her to start his way back to the fortress. He took her hand and noticed how cold it felt against his own.  “Come on, we need to get you inside so you can warm up.”

She smiled playfully. “Only if you help me.”

I hope you guys liked it! Sorry for the long wait, but it wil probably happen again lol

I have a few ideas for the next part. Without spoiling too much, I think it's time Yen makes an appearance to explain some of the gaps it the timeline when Geralt was away... so, lots of jealousy and angst coming!

BUT I'm not 100% sure of how thing are going to play out, so if you guys have any ideas of things you would like to see in the story (for this next part or future ones!) please drop an ask/message/comment thank youuu ily

[lost-and-ephemeral]

Series: In Her Shadow, pt.2 (ft. main trio)

Part 1 | Part 2

Slowly but surely she replaced you in his heart.

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)

Tags: angst, hurt no comfort, reader is not MC, breakup

A/N: I recieved a lot of comments and request asking me to continue, so here we are! I've tried my best. Ty everyone, I appreciate every message, even if it would be hard to mention every single one of them in this post. Also, if you want to be tagged in future fics, let me know!

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´- 

Rafayel

You began to notice that Rafayel was spending less and less time with you, choosing his bodyguard over you.

It wasn't obvious at first, yeah, but as time went on, everything became so noticeable that you couldn't ignore it anymore. Especially when he forgot about your plans with him and didn't even consider apologizing for it.

The smell of someone else's perfume in his studio, the way Rafayel would leave you at home and take her to all the important events because "you probably don't like spending time among journalists and annoying guests." It seems that he didn't even notice the moment when you were completely estranged from each other.

And all your attempts to talk to him about it ended with nothing.

"She's my bodyguard," he'd say. "No wonder I take her everywhere I go. Is there anything wrong with that?"

Yes, a lot of things were wrong.

But he was completely unwilling to notice it, and you were tired of collecting the shards of your broken heart from the floor day after day. Those warm feelings that brought a sense of lightness and happiness in your heart suddenly turned into pure torture.

You had to end it all, even if it'll hurt so much.

When you arrived at his studio this morning, you came face to face with "Ms. Bodyguard" herself. She was just about to leave, and didn't even hesitate to embrace your beloved. Right in front of you.

Maybe you would've exploded from all these negative emotions, if you had any strength left to be mad or to cry. But there was only emptiness in your heart.

You became strangers to each other.

"I'm breaking up with you," you said without any regret and pushed him away as he tried to hug you. "I don't want to be a second choice after your precious bodyguard."

"W-wait, why? What... But I didn't do anything!" he replied confused, apparently not realizing how much he's been hurting you all this time.

"Maybe that's the point. That you'd do anything for her, but not for me."

He looked at you with the same confusion in his eyes, trying to figure out if it was a joke, but you continued before leaving this place forever.

"You were everything to me, Rafayel. But for you, I was just a small episode of your life. I'm tired. You've been spending all your free time with her, like I didn't exist. It'll be better this way. Goodbye."

No matter how long he was calling your name, asking you to stop, to come back and talk with him, you didn't.

Zayne

Loving a cardiac surgeon with his busy schedule is hard.

But it's even harder when he no longer cares about your existence and spends a significant amount of time with his childhood friend.

After Zayne forgot about your reservation at the restaurant, making you feel like you were the last fool in this world, some more time has passed.

Yeah, he apologized. No, he didn't start spending less time with his "friend".

It's hard to count how many evenings you spent alone when he stayed late at work for her or was invited to a "friendly" dinner with her. But it happened often enough so finally your love turned into suffering.

At first you tried to convince yourself that you're too jealous and he's just happy to finally reunite with someone close to him from his youth. You care about your friends too, don't you?

But it only got worse.

All your plans were constantly adjusted to his friend's wishes. She wants to take him to a cafe at the same time you were planning to go to the cinema? "Sorry, love, let's reschedule our date for another day". You've made him his favorite dinner? Too bad, his friend already brought him dinner at work and he's not hungry.

Eventually you started feeling like he stopped enjoying your time together and just continued to exist in the same apartment with you out of habit.

Talking didn't get you anywhere, because Zayne didn't notice how much he was hurting you (or he simply didn't want to notice it) with his actions and only distanced himself from you even more.

At some point you felt like he put an ice wall around himself again.

He stayed late again this evening, completely forgetting his promise to spend time with you. You packed your things with tears in your eyes, ready to say goodbye to life with Zayne once and for all.

And he showed up at the doorstep of his apartment just as you were ready to leave.

"What's going on?" his voice didn't betray a shred of emotion. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to leave you and your lovely friend together so I don't have to be an unwanted addition to your life."

Zayne was taken aback at this statement and was about to say something, but you interrupted him.

"You were the one who brought happiness and comfort into my life. You were the one who made me feel loved and wanted. But now I realize that I wasn't good enough for you. Goodbye."

You walked away and closed the door behind you, leaving him all alone.

Xavier

Before, you without a doubt would've said that your relationship with Xavier was the ultimate dream.

But now it wasn't actually true.

Yes, your beloved still showed care and attention every spare minute he had. Just not to you. It seemed as if his colleague started to occupy his every thought.

During dinner, on a walk, after missions. He was always talking about her, how strong she is, and how lucky he is that she chose him as her partner. His eyes were shining with delight you had never seen before.

You were happy for him, but only until it crossed the line. Only until you started to feel like he was in love with her, not with you.

One day you found yourself completely miserable. Xavier texted you that he would be late because they had "decided to celebrate another successful mission". Except that you were usually the one he shared his joy with. But things have changed.

Even though you were the brightest star in his world, you were inevitably lost behind the glow of the Moon.

You were trying to be better, to be more interesting. Trying to reach an unattainable ideal. But you couldn't. After all, maybe you were never meant to be together if it turned out like this. Maybe you weren't enough for him.

You couldn't remember the last day you didn't cry. Sometimes alone, sometimes locking yourself in the bathroom after another conversation about this "super-strong collegue". But Xavier didn't seem to notice it at all.

"I thought maybe you'd be interested to know what happens during missions," he said when you brought up this painful topic.

And, yes, you were interested. But all you heard was, "She took down that Wanderer so easily, I couldn't take my eyes off her." Or, "she's so good with her weapon, it's amazing."

He distanced himself from you so much that you hardly spent any time together.

He wasn't even home the day you left.

Xavier sent you a message saying he'd be late again. As usual, with her. Even though he promised to have a movie night and you had already prepared everything you needed for it.

Maybe it's even better if you don't see the look in his eyes the moment you tell him you're breaking up with him. You packed your things and left a note on the table, next to the snacks you bought.

"Maybe in another universe I would be worthy of you so you could look at me with the same adoration. I can see that you enjoy spending time with her much more. And we should break up so you don't torment my heart anymore. Goodbye."

You glanced around his apartment one last time before leaving it forever.

♡ tags: @skyowlz @prettytemis @aishasreality @randompersonwhoexist @kreishin @reni502 @moonyzstarz @chin-chii

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

He Sees You

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You go away for the holidays but you can't escape all the worries you tried to leave at home..

Character: Walter Marshall

Day Seventeen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - let's go somewhere warm for the winter.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Let's go somewhere warm for the winter 

The sun beams amber over the dulcet ripples. Your room looks down onto the hotel pool in the setting evening, a calming hue soothing your nerves. You haven't felt this close to peaceful in month. No... has it already been a year? 

"So, honey, what do you think about trying the restaurant? I was just looking over the menu. I've never tried mussels," your mother's voice cuts through the din. Another comfort you've longed for. 

"Sure, whatever you want," you face her and sigh.  

It's more than getting away from work and your tiny apartment and the city. It's that foreign feeling. Something you almost forgot. You feel safe. 

"You alright?" She asks with concern. 

"I'm great, mom," you assure her. "Thanks for bringing me." 

"Didn't know what else to do with all that money. You wouldn't believe it, Sheila was so jealous that I won the jackpot at bingo. I would've asked her if she hadn't been such a crabby ass about it." 

"Oh, I'm sorry." 

"Ah, she always was a pain," she shrugs. "Besides, I miss my baby girl. You're always so busy with work." 

"I know, mom, I'm sorry." 

You look down guiltily. You can't tell her that it's more an excuse these days than the truth. You are busy but not with your job. You're hiding. You don't have to here. It's nice and distant and warm. You can't remember a winter without snow. It's so strange to be hot in December. 

"I'll just change into something... not this," you look down at the sweats you wore on the plane. 

"Wonderful," you mom gives a small clap but concern lingers in the lines of her forehead, "we can wait until tomorrow if you're jetlagged." 

"I'm not. Promise. I want to," you assure her. 

You grab your bag and flip the lid open. You take out some capris and a flora shirt. You go into the bathroom as she searches her purse. You want to make the best of it. It's not often you have this luxury; not only the time off, but the all-inclusive resort. It's amazing.  

And it might be the only escape you get for a while. Or ever. 

You come out as your mom spritzes herself with body spray. She smiles and grabs her wallet, "dinner's on me." 

"Mom," you chide. 

"No, you don't even try. This is my present to you, honey. I want you to enjoy," she goes to the door and looks back at you. "What happened to my little girl and her smiles?" 

Her question pierces your heart. You know but it would break her heart to say it. You force a smile. 

"I'm just grown up and tired," you chuckle dryly. "Come on. I saw something about pineapple sangria." 

"That's my girl," she trills and holds the door for you. 

The restaurant is just as you expect. Tropical in the tourist sort of way. Fake palm trees, colourful glasses, twisty straws with fruit slid onto them. You order a sangria as your mother puts her glasses on and squints at the menu. 

The server brings your drinks and gives you time to peruse the selection. You settle on the carribean prawn cocktail as your mother stirs her spicy margarita. She sits back and looks around. It's good to see her happy too. 

"This is so nice," she preens. "You should come to bingo with me when we get back. If we both win, we could stay twice as long next time." 

She cackles and you laugh too. Genuinely, this time. That weight on your shoulder lessens bit by bit. You slurp down some sangria and let the alcohol sink in. You need this. You need to just forget. To let go. 

You're far from home. No one even knows you're here. Even work thinks you're just puttering around at your apartment, and your friends, the few who still talk to you, are too absorbed in their own holidays. 

You put in your orders and get another round. Your refills come with the food as your mother tells you about Maureen who steals her fliers. You laugh as you remember the rivalry she used to have with the other soccer moms. You were never very good at the sport though. 

"How's your food?" She asks as you pick away at the prawns. 

"Very good. I could eat a whole other platter but I won't." 

"It's a holiday, go on," she chirps. 

"No, no, really. My mind says yes but my stomach would say no way," you shake your head. 

"Hm, we'll need to get a dessert menu then," she grins and looks around for the server. 

He comes and clears your plates. Your mother requests the dessert list and he flits off to his task. He returns with more than the menu. He has another round of drinks in hand. 

"Oh, we didn't--" your mother begins. 

"The gentleman at the bar sent them over." The server puts down the drinks. 

You stiffen as you stare at the pineapple ring hooked over the brim. Your mother cranes to see whoever it is and you shrink down. You're paranoid. Not here. He couldn't be. 

"And the desserts," the server taps the menu before he hands it over. "I recommend the key lime cheesecake or the coconut cream trifle." 

"Oh, thank you." Your mother fawns, "honey, cheers." 

Your mother raises her glass in a gesture towards the bar. You hold your breath and lift your glass, mirroring her. You glance at the bar and nearly drop the drink. You quickly lower your hand and turn to her. She doesn't see your panic. 

"Um, you know what," you set the glass down gingerly as the waiter retreats. "I'm going to find the bathroom." 

You get up and keep your eyes ahead of you. You resist the urge to peek at the bar again. You don’t need another look. You know it’s him, you just can’t fathom how he found you. 

You enter the bathroom and quicky hide in a stall. You sit without intent. You need to think. What do you do? What can you do? You didn’t tell a soul. You wouldn’t even text your mom the details, just in case. Your stomach clenches until you think you might vomit. 

Then another thought brings you to your feet. Your mom. Shit. 

You get up and hurry back out. As you come into the dining room, your eyes move instinctively to the bar. He’s not there. With dread, you look to the table. Your mom’s alone. Thank god. Yet, you know better than to believe he’s gone. 

You join her and reach for the sangria without a thought. You nearly choke on the mouthful as you recall where it came from. You force it down and place the drink on the table. 

“That stranger sure was kind, treating us to a round,” she smiles. “Been a long time since a handsome man bought me a drink.” 

You try to smile but you’re so tense, you can hardly breathe. “So, uh,” you swallow to restrain the tremble in your voice. “What do you want for dessert? The banana pudding sounds good.” 

You look down at the menu, hoping she can’t see the truth. She’s always been smart. She always catches you out. Maybe the drinks are enough to save you. At least, enough to protect her. Ignorance is bliss and you don’t want to ruin the first vacation she’s had in years. 

🌴

Your mother snores in the other bed. You lay awake. Your phone rests on your stomach. You wait for the inevitable buzz. 

You feel weak, so fraught that your bones are heavy. Weary. That’s the word. You’re so tired of running, especially when it only feels like you’re standing still. 

Brrrrr. 

The vibration makes you jolt. You grab at the phone clumsily and raise it to read the message. It’s him. It’s not a surprise. No one hs your number but the woman in the room with you. Or so you thought. 

‘You looked really nice tonight.’ 

You stare. You can’t answer that. You doubt he expects one. No, he’s taunting you. 

‘How’s your mom?’ 

You sit up and hiss. No. No. That’s off-limits. 

‘Leave her alone,’ your thumbs skitter over the keys quickly. 

Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then pop up again. 

‘I don’t like talking like this.’ 

You grit your teeth. Fuck off. You want so badly to type it in. Your mother snorts and rolls over. The next message shakes your hands. 

‘Room 3054.’ 

‘Where?’ You text back as seeing your suite number makes you ill. 

‘Bar. Got a cocktail waiting for you.’ 

Checkmate. You’re no good at his game and you’re terrified of him flipping the board. You slide out of bed quietly and wade through the dark. You pull a hoodie on over your camisole, careless of the flowy fabric of your shorts. You step into your sneakers, bending the backs, and shove the room key into your sweater pocket. 

He’s waiting, just like he said. With a beer for himself and another bright yellow drink for you. You near as he tugs at one of his dark curls, combing his fingers through the knot at the base of his skull. He grunts as he looses it and brings his hand back to the bottle. 

You climb up next to him. You ignore the drink. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask. 

“I should ask you the same.” 

“It’s none--” you begin and think better of it. “I’m spending time with my mother. Shouldn’t you be with your family?” 

He grits his teeth and swallows. Walter is a big man. Burly is an understatement. Before, when he was just customer, you compared him to a teddy bear. Now he’s grizzly stalking you through the trees. 

“We were supposed to be together. It’s the holiday. You couldn’t even let me know?” He turns to stare you down with his icy blue eyes. 

Your cheek ticks and your eyes flick to the wall. He scares you. More than anything. 

“I’ve been asking to meet your mom, haven’t I?” 

“Please, why... why do you have to do this?” 

“Why do you have to do this?” He shoots back. “I’m the only reason you’re safe.” 

You shudder and rub your arm. No, he’s the reason you’re scared. He's the reason you can’t sleep. You never asked for any of this. 

You gnaw on your cheeks and shake your head. Your mouth is dry and your chest is empty. The futility keeps you quiet. 

“Your mom seems nice--” 

“No,” you look at him again. “No. She’s my mom. She’s all I have so you don’t-- don’t.” You beg. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it, but you don’t get near her. You--” 

“You act like I want to hurt her. Why would I do that? She gave me you?” He arches a brow. 

You inhale and lean your elbow on the bar, “Walter.” 

His lashes flick up and his tongue pokes out to trace his lips, “have your drink. We’ll have enough time to go back to my room before she’s up.” 

You stare at him. He turns to the bar and lifts the beer bottle. He drinks casually as you watch. You lower your head as your hands shake over your lap. You reach to turn yourself on the tall stool.  

The mirror behind the bar reflects your fear. His eyes meet yours and you wince. You knew this was too good to be true. You knew that even here wasn’t far enough. 

[wibben]

As Stars Go By

You and Choso thoroughly enjoy your first vacation together up in the mountains.

↳ pairing: boyfriend! choso kamo x afab! reader

↳ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, sub! choso, sex (p in v), creampie, breeding if you squint, choso is a real sweetie pie, established relationship, whimpering, pathetic male mess! choso, art by @/yume041624

↳ wc: 7,233

↳ notes: this was posted on my ao3 quite a while ago, but I've finally decided to make my first foray into tumblr! So this is a cross post but nonetheless I hope you enjoy, and bear with me while I figure this whole thing out <3 tagging: @jasminelee324 , @verydreamerfairy I hope I did that right, feeling a bit grandma-esque here.

“—You were right, it’s kinda cold, huh—”

“—let me take you inside—”

“— like hell we’re going inside already.”

You press yourself closer to Choso's side, knees hiked up to your chest as you lean into the warmth of his arm. The uneven bumps of the grass beneath the picnic blanket serve as the perfect excuse to nestle even closer, shifting your weight onto your hip and burrowing into his flank so that you’re pointedly squished hip to hip. Glued, unmoving, decidedly not going inside.

This trip had been in the making for a while—a sweet escape to a cabin in the mountains. The epitome of rustic charm , complete with an authentic outdoor shower, access to a serene lake at the foot of your mountain retreat, miles of scenic hiking trails, and an unparalleled view of the stars. Each detail meticulously planned, every moment a step closer to this perfect getaway that you’ve been dreaming of for months.

It was going to be perfect. A slice of heaven on earth, really. The antithesis of the bustling city you both so desperately needed a break from.

The only problem?

You envisioned this place in the summer to properly enjoy your itinerary. Instead, you now watch as blue frost ensnares dew-kissed blades of grass around your blanket, winter’s chill stealthily settling around you and clouding your breath with every disgruntled exhale.

A booking error, they told you. A glitch in the system; but not to worry. You weren’t eligible for a refund, but you were welcome to reschedule—if you didn’t mind the year and a half long waitlist for another chance to disappear from the world together.

But you minded. A lot . You spent too long coordinating this trip. Time off and away from the usual commitments that chain you to everyday life, the mental ticking countdown to the day you finally get to leave. You couldn’t bear to push it off; and you would rather die than see the kicked-puppy look on Choso’s face if you were forced to tell him your vacation was canceled. You and Choso were going on vacation, and that was final—sacrificing a few toes to the cold was a small price to pay.

The outdoor shower was out of the question, and so was the lake, half-slush and uninviting. But the stars? Those weren’t going anywhere.

“I kind of forgot stars existed,” you muse softly.

Choso hums in acknowledgment beside you, his hand rubbing firmly up and down your arm, generating a fire-starting friction to keep you warm. 

You continue. “It's like... all the planes, and towers, and cars back home, y'know? I swear—when I was a kid, I saw them every night. Not really sure when they disappeared. I don’t think I ever noticed, never mind really missed it until now. You know?” With your head resting against his shoulder, you can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest, hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. It makes you feel warmer too, even if only just.

The silence that follows is a comfortable, familiar companion. Choso has always been a man of few words, but you know he listens intently to every word you say, his attention filling the gaps louder than anything he could speak. It just makes the things he does say all the more profound when he finally does say them.

“I’ve never seen the stars before.”

You can always trust Choso to say something unintentionally heartbreaking. You already knew this, knew he never had the opportunity to see them with his whole life spent under smoggy light-polluted skies, but hearing him say it so matter-of-factly without any regret or longing, so unperturbed by his lack of experiences, bothers you . It makes you all the more determined to fill his empty chalice with more memories than it can possibly hold; to leave it and him overflowing with a life well and truly lived.

“Well they’re pretty, right?” You needle.

“They are,” he agrees, and his arm tightens around your shoulder, drawing you even closer into the firm curvature of his body. 

“But you are beautiful—” “— I am cold —”

Choso chuckles, the sound low and melodic as he slips off his jacket and wraps it over your shoulders, pre-warmed with the heat of him and you smile, so utterly besotted, as you draw his sleeve up to your mouth to cover the saccharine dripping of your happiness.

“There,” he murmurs, and you can feel his lips press gently against your temple, brushing aside your hair with the spun bow of his smile. “Beautiful, and less cold.”

Your laughter is warm and fond, like air slowly escaping from a balloon, releasing the swell of adoration inside your ribcage before it makes you burst. “You’ve gotten good at that,” you tease.

You can almost feel the slow furrow of Choso’s brow without looking, the way the left side wrinkles just a bit more than the right, his mouth forming a curious frown. Innocently, he asks, “Good at what?”

You love that expression—the thoughtful curiosity, always eager to learn something new, even about himself, because it’s a reflection of how you see him in a mirror he could never hold. With a grin on your face, you tilt your head back to gaze up at him, and your heart promptly swoops down to your diaphragm and crashes straight through it.

His eyes are cast up at the stars, eyelids pulled back so far they’re almost lost in the exhausted bruises of his sockets. The way they reflect the stars above, it's as if each tiny distant light is captured and magnified within them, turning his dark irises into shimmering cosmos of their own. You see constellations in the depths of his wide gaze, entire universes dancing just for you—and you couldn’t be more lost in orbit if you launched yourself directly into the stratosphere.

You're grateful for the rush of blood that warms your frozen cheeks as you stare openly, every beat of your heart directing more heat up to your face. The moonlight bathes his face in a gentle glow, turning his hair into strands of liquid mercury. Each one catches the light, shimmering threads of pure moonbeam woven into his skull. He looks almost otherworldly, a celestial being come down to earth to grace you with as divine a gift as his warm jacket—

Feeling the weight of your gaze, his attention is reeled downward. The macrocosm held within his eyes shifts, now focusing solely on you, and you feel as if you’re the very center of that universe now. It was so easy for him to look away from the breathtaking sight of the stars up above you—because as far as Choso’s concerned, you were the one who hung them there.

“Good at what?” Choso repeats, seeming oblivious to the almost religious experience you just underwent simply by looking at him—he wants an answer. He’s curious.

Suddenly, your intention of teasing him feels so utterly withered. Dead on arrival to your tongue that you almost can’t bring yourself to say it because of just how sincere it feels now. You chuckle sheepishly, seeking escape in the milky way above you but finding yourself drawn back into his gravity instead with a slow sloping smile. “Being all… romantic, ” you mutter. You were cold only moments ago, but the blush on your face keeps you toasty now.

His eyes widen slightly, a look of innocent surprise washing over his face. "Really?"

You nod. "Yeah, really."

Choso beams, and your mind almost short-circuits at how devastatingly beautiful it makes him. You’d think the blood rushing to your head might power your brain, make it easier to think, but it does the exact opposite; it boils you dumb, leaving your skull little more than a soupy bone bowl.

Without thinking—because how could you really? —you lean up and kiss him gently to taste that sweet smile of his.

It’s Choso’s turn to flatline then as your lips brush his, warm and firm with just enough give for him to want to sink into you forever. No matter how familiar the sensation or how many times you kiss him, he isn’t used to it. He might never be used to it. He hopes he never will be. 

When you pull away, he makes a small noise of complaint, a soft whimper that tugs a fine red thread connected directly between your thighs. His eyes, wide and vulnerable, chase after your lips, his body moving on instinct until he's tentatively leaning over you. There’s a raw, unspoken need in his gaze that makes your breath falter.

He pauses, his forehead resting against yours, his breath clouding white and breathing him directly into your lungs as you inhale each other's cold vapor. “...Wanna kiss you,” he whispers, his voice tinged with a soft plea that makes your abdomen tighten.

You reach up, your fingers threading through his hair, gleaming like spun silver and breaking free dark commas that hang messily over his forehead. His brow pinches in a look that almost spells confusion—a familiar expression of utter bafflement at how badly he needs to feel you. He’s experienced much more with you, felt you, tasted you, had you in every way that matters, but somehow a simple kiss always galvanizes his desire like nothing else.

His lips find yours again, more insistent this time as his tongue dips into you. You gasp as he moans at the taste of your mouth, your fingers tangling into the roots of his loose hair, holding your celestial deity willingly captive to your body; tied through fingers rather than Promethean chains.

He shivers against the feel of your nails on his scalp, spurring him to bear down on you further with a needy groan. All at once, Choso’s ardor is a palpable, desperate thing. His hand roams your back, bunching his jacket in his fist but not daring to slip beneath, only pressing you closer to him. Even with that barrier, his touch scalds you, making you arch up at his insistence, molding against his hovering chest with your arms slung around his shoulders for support.

Your lips part for a moment, your nose wedged against his as you catch your breath. You both sink so seamlessly deep into each other that its an effort not to get lost completely, though between the two of you, it’s always Choso who has a harder time clawing his composure back; displayed by the displeased whine that escapes his throat before he pulls you back in with a gentle but insistent push against your lower spine.

You move with the gesture, your body turning fluid against his as you roll over, straddling him now as he lays flat on the blanket. Your hands brace against the firm planes of muscle that band his chest, fingers splayed as if to feel and grab and claim all of him at once, and god —it’s never quite enough. You crash into him again, ruled by gravity, only you don’t know which of you is the object and which is the ground, only that a collision was inevitable. 

Choso’s hands shake as they slide to your hips, pinning you against his waist as your tongue thrusts back into his mouth and you were loath to ever have left it. His lips seal around yours, hungry as he sucks on your tongue with a wanton moan swallowed directly into your mouth and your teeth bare in a victorious grin. 

His hand cups the back of your neck, hesitant and unsure despite the number of times you’ve told him he can be much firmer with you. In reprimand you nip his lower lip between your teeth. Choso gasps, his hips automatically bucking up into you to smash his straining cloth-covered cock into your crotch—the sudden sensation only making him whine again, wrenching his lips from yours with a flustered gasp. 

He hadn’t realized how turned on he was just from this. Hadn’t felt it until you did, and suddenly he’s mortified, frozen and statuesque as he tries and fails to will himself soft.

“S–sorry. ‘msosorry– '' He chokes, and now he’s caught your blush like it's something contagious. You can feel his cock jump beneath you, hard and urgent, a wordless plea that has your stomach immediately tightening in response, like your insides have been gripped in an iron fist and twisted.  

You’ve never once had to question whether Choso wants you or not. He’s never been subtle, and he’s never tried to be. It’s flattering in a way that instantly thrusts your brain into the realm of reciprocity, your own desire pooling hot and slick between your thighs, making you acutely aware of just how much you need him too.

His eyes, wide and dark, gaze up at you with a need that makes you feel like a goddess descended from the heavens, and you grin, all luminous teeth and coy intent. “What’re you sorry for?” you whisper, hovering nose to nose as your hips chase his back to the ground.

“I–” He swallows, the pretty dusted blush on his cheeks darkens, the night sky painting him in shades of monochrome, but you know just how red he can get. He shakes his head, but his fingers don’t move from your hips; if anything, he holds tighter. As if there was a chance in hell of you disappearing.

“You…?” You press coyly, to which Choso groans in breathless exasperation. And because he’s taking too long for your liking, you decide to encourage him with a slow, rolling grind against the pinned tent in his pants. He stiffens—both his cock and his entire body going rigid before his head thumps back against the ground wordlessly.

Choso’s lower lip trembles, and you so badly want to sink your teeth into it. “Don’t tease me…” he whispers pleadingly, his mouth curving into that awkward smile you know and love.

And god, do you love him. So much so, that you decide to be merciful…a move that might seem altruistic, if your own panties weren’t thoroughly soaked and sticking and in desperate need of removal. Your mercy is just as much for yourself as your shoulders roll, starting to shrug off his jacket—

Choso’s eyes widen and his hands fly from your hips to your shoulders, catching the garment before it can fall. The move was so sudden that it surprises you, making you recoil and sit deeper into his lap. Choso’s eyes flutter and he clenches his jaw with a grunt, but he shakes his head. “What are you doing?”

You blink down at him, a slow and confused smile building on your lips. “I–I thought…do you not want to —?”

“ Oh —I do. Very bad. But we–we can’t out here.” Choso tugs the jacket back up, pulling it tight in front of you.

“Cho–there’s nobody around for miles. Maybe…maybe raccoons or something, but—”

“You’ll get cold,” he interrupts resolutely. His brow is set low over his eyes, stubborn and unyielding. “I don’t want you to be cold.”

You can’t imagine ever feeling cold again with how warm you feel now. Your heart swells with affection, and you smile, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’ll be fine,” you reassure him. But his hands remain on your shoulders, firm and insistent, and you realize he’s serious.

“Choso…”  you murmur, your voice a seductive purr that sends a visible shiver down his spine. You delight in the way that the mere sound of his name rolling off your tongue makes his body soften and tremble. “Do you want to take me …” You let your words trail off as your hand drifts down over his chest, lingering suggestively just above his navel. Your fingers trace a teasing path lower, slow and unashamedly provocative, “…inside?"

As if your words were a trigger and he was waiting for you to say exactly that, Choso reacts with breathtaking speed, scooping you up effortlessly and throwing you over his shoulder. His grip on your thighs is firm, unyielding, and you let out a surprised squeal, heart pounding as he strides toward the cabin without hesitation, carrying you as if you weighed nothing.

You laugh, half in shock and half in delight, as he practically kicks the door open and steps inside with you. He doesn’t bother with the stairs or even look for a bedroom. Instead, his eyes dart around the entryway, searching for something, anything, to set you on. He zeroes in on a tall table in the foyer, decorated with knick knacks—a bronze statue bust of a deer, a small clock, and other rustic-y decor items.

Evidently, this will just have to do. He sets you down on the table with a bit more force than intended, your butt thumping solidly against the lacquered wood. Trinkets scatter, your body sweeping them aside like a battering ram and knocking the fragile clock dangerously close to the edge. The table wobbles slightly under your weight, sturdy but clearly not meant for this kind of use.

Choso stands between your knees, nudging them apart with his thighs as his long, cold fingers cup your face with a tenderness that wholly departs from his urgency. His lips crash against yours for a second time in a searing kiss, full of raw need and longing. He moans quietly into your mouth, the sound vibrating straight through you like a knife to the gut.

He grinds himself against you, his cock hard and throbbing beneath his clothes as he presses between your legs. The movement is subconscious on his part, an instinctive need for friction that his body knows exactly where to find even with his brain being too addled to seek it. You can’t help but respond encouragingly, your hips moving to meet him with a firm upward swipe of your pussy—as much as you can while pinned like a taxidermied butterfly to the table.

Choso groans, his focus shoved even closer to the abyssal edge of total composure loss. He isn’t sure what to do with his hands. He wishes so badly that he had more of them. To hold your face, to rip your clothes off like a wild animal, to encourage your hips against him harder if he were to be so bold. But he only has two hands, and he isn’t bold, just eager. So eager is he that his hands frenzy over your body, everywhere and nowhere all at once, making you laugh low and husky against his lips. 

His hand tangles in your hair but is quick to leave it, moving instead to cup your jaw but no–that isn’t quite right either. From your jaw, to your neck, then to your spine, and he groans and shakes his head at his own indecision. Not enough hands. He finally pulls the jacket from your body and tosses it to the floor.

“Too many layers…” he mutters. But the removal of those layers…that does something more for him. 

So he makes a choice. Clothes off. Clothes off is good.

His hands fly from your face down to the hem of your shirt, tugging at it without ceremony or preamble. You raise your arms above your head to help, but his refusal to part his lips from yours makes the task harder. The shirt gets stuck beneath your chin, rucked up over your breasts, and he growls, forced to pull away just to finish the job.

You giggle as he steps back, helping you wrestle your shirt over your arms where it catches, momentarily blinding you. Eventually, he frees it from your body, and as it falls away, you catch Choso's flushed face in the flickering orange light of the fire. He stands there, gazing at you, almost transfixed.

He’s seen you shirtless before. He's mapped every inch of your body with his hands and his mouth like a blind man reading braille. But without fail, the visual of your shirtless body, breasts heaving with each forceful breath, leaves him completely stunned. He stands there, frozen and sedated, as if he simply isn’t allowed to touch something so perfect. Like you should be kept high up on a shelf somewhere, not down here with the likes of him.

His lip wobbles needily, eyes blown wide and spun like glass as he drinks you in like he might never see you again. With a sure smile you reach behind you to unclip your bra with deft fingers, and the sight of the fabric falling away from your skin as if in slow motion snaps Choso’s restraint like a toothpick.

You watch as Choso yanks his shirt off too, shoulders hunching forward to slip it off over his head and he’s back on you in the same breath. There’s no quiet moment for you to drink in the sight of his tightened abs or his broad, tense shoulders trembling. He’s almost selfish in his consumption of you, taking and giving nothing back, though not intentionally. He's simply impatient, unapologetically needy.

His tongue plunges desperately into your mouth, sloppy and squirming, as he presses his chest against yours, craving your warmth and sandwiching your breasts between your bodies as he molds to you. Your nipples graze against his pecs, tripping the sharp wire that sends electric jolts of pleasure straight to your clit. You inhale sharply, sucking the oxygen straight from his mouth in a greedy gasp.

Instead of returning to his mouth, your lips veer to the side, trailing fire as you plant open-mouthed kisses along the sharp line of his jaw and down his throat. You scatter pretty roses along Choso’s collar bone with sharp nips of your teeth, quickly soothing the thorny sting with your tongue. 

His head falls back, shoulders taut and quivering, his lips parted so prettily that you’d love to slip your fingers between them, if your hands weren’t already occupied tugging at the waistband of his pants. Your fingers tease the edge, your pinky slipping just underneath and it’s as if you’ve just reminded him— oh, right, he wanted your clothes off.

His hands are a flurry of movement again, batting yours away in his haste to reach you. He grips your pants, pulling hard . With one hand clinging to his shoulder and the other to the edge of the table for stability on its increasingly unstable surface, you raise your hips. "Wait-..." but you're too slow.  Choso is as strong as he is predictably impatient, and he tears your pants from your body with an explosive rip. You gasp, and he sheepishly mumbles, "Sorry," though he isn’t sorry at all. In fact, if you never wore pants again, they wouldn’t get in the way and he wouldn't be forced to tear them off you.

You laugh exasperatedly as he takes a half step back, his fingers digging into the fabric of his pants with such urgency that his briefs come down with them. The sight makes you practically salivate . His cock springs free, red and ready, smacking against his stomach which concaves as he hisses, shying away from the sudden contact with himself. It bobs back down, horizontal and already pearled with pre-cum.

“You’re so pretty—”

“—Sah…–says you—” Choso objects bashfully, all but tripping over himself to close the meager distance he created between you. He reaches for your hip at the same moment your fingertips skim his waist and he squeaks adorably, his hips impulsively thrusting forwards. 

His thighs hit the edge of the table, and the weeping head of his cock rams against your clit, making your vision streak with stars as you yelp and jolt forward. The table rattles and sways with a sense of impending collapse, but Choso is quicker. His arm scoops behind your waist, lifting you clear of the danger, and in a flash, he ducks, his hand shooting out to catch the teetering clock before it crashes to the floor.

You blink owlishly at him, then burst into laughter as the tension diffuses like morning mist. The galloping of your heart from the near collapse settles into a gentler rhythm, your life no longer flashing before your eyes, yet still stirred by being held in his arms. Choso grins awkwardly, taking a moment to gently place the clock back on the table.

“Nice,” you snicker, legs wrapping around his waist and leaning into his neck, nipping at the junction of his shoulder.

“Thank y–mmph-! ” Choso’s gasp and appreciative moan of your name curls from his chest outwards, muffled by his face burrowing into your shoulder. His cock jerks upward, a long string of pre-cum dripping from the tip and stringing down to the floor. He could just drop you right down onto his cock and make you scream his name and twitch in his arms and neither of you would ever pull apart again, he’d fuck his cum into you over and over and over and anytime it leaks out he can just replace it—

“—guh–gotta find somewhere–somewhere better for you. Better than–ah–a table— ”

You hum approvingly, nosing along the flushed pillar of his throat and trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the same path. Your lips and tongue worship his skin. Lost in the haze of need, you barely register where he’s taking you. You hardly clock that you’re being moved at all.

Choso moves quickly but slowly enough to support his precious cargo. He’s been so accident prone, and now he’s scared to trip or bump you into a wall or accidentally sneeze and bury himself inside you —

With a grunt he suddenly drops to the floor in the center of a fluffy rug in the main room, legs crossed with his ankles pinned beneath his knees, settling you in the gap created with your legs still locked behind his waist. 

The fire crackles beside you, hot and flickering and smoky. You reel back in his lap and his hands slide up your sides to support you, gripping and caressing up and down your spine. His forehead tilts to thunk against yours, the fire playing in his eyes in a way that makes you feel weak-kneed.

Choso murmurs your name, adoring and dreamy. “So pretty,” he praises, “— sososo pretty—”

He starts to rock the underside of his cock against your pussy, his brows knitting as his head drops against your shoulder, lips parted and panting over your skin. Your folds part around his shaft, his head snagging against your clit before cresting all the way through. You squeak, reflexively pressing yourself more insistently against him. 

He does it again, his entire body tense and hard with the concentration it takes to exercise patience. You deserve patience, to feel good and cum again and again, and he’s determined to be the one to make it happen. He shudders, his tongue poking out from between clenched teeth, nodding to himself in silent declaration. But that careful restraint is flimsy at best, sorely tested with each shallow drag. His cock returns shinier and wetter, the friction driving him to the brink until he’s gripped wholly by the need to have you .

Desperate for distraction, Choso’s hands roam eagerly over your breasts, squeezing with a blend of urgency and reverence. A low, needy moan escapes him, his lips hovering before his tongue flicks out to tease your nipple. He captures it in his mouth, sucking gently, each pull sending ripples of pleasure radiating through you. You arch into him, breath hitching as a soft moan escapes. The sensation of your body pressing against his elicits a deep, primal groan from him, vibrating against your skin. His free hand caresses your other breast, rolling and pinching your nipple with growing confidence, his touches more assured and deliberate.

With each slow roll of his hips you can feel every exquisitely familiar detail. Thick and firm, with a pronounced upward curve that rubs perfectly against your sensitive bud. The veins along his length pulse with engorging blood—you’re shocked he’s even lasted this long without begging to be inside you. But he wants tonight to be special. You’re on a trip, together, for the first time and he wants to be good for you. Every grind and thrust feels electric, his cock divinely crafted to drive your burgeoning craving to new heights.

Choso moans and dislodges from your nipple, his lips leaving a slick, magmatic trail as he moves upward. His hand snakes down to grip the base of his weeping length, squeezing it hard as he manually drags it between your puffy folds. The sensation makes him shudder, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he looks at you, his gaze pleading and desperate.

"–oh my– fffuck –" he babbles, his voice shaky with need. "I'm sorry, I... I need you so bad. In – inside…please. " He whispers, his hips bucking involuntarily as his cock slides against you, the tip catching on your entrance before he drags it back along your clit. You mewl and clutch at his shoulders the sound alone is almost too much for him to bear. "Please," he begs again, his eyes locked onto yours, almost teary.

The fire pops loudly beside you, a stick collapsing into ash in the brick tray, and with it, your restraint burns away. You nod, your voice a raspy plea, " Please —don't tease me." The scent of him mingled with the burning wood makes your head swim. The tables have turned, and you now find yourself on the other side from where you began. But Choso would never tease you, not like you would him—his need is too great, his desire to obey you too strong. Your voice when you beg is lovely, but god he wants to make you sing.

He presses his thumb against his cockhead, gasping as white-hot pleasure courses through him, the pad of his finger immediately slick with arousal. He pushes it down, notching against your entrance, his breath hitching. “ Gon–gonna make you feel good, ” he asserts shakily, his voice thick with need. “ Gonna try— ” At the same moment, his arm wraps behind your waist, pulling your body to him. He rocks his hips up and forward, the head of his cock slipping inside with agonizing slowness.

Your breath catches, a moan escaping your lips as he fills you, every inch stretching and teasing. Choso's muffled cry vibrates against your shoulder as he buries his face there, his teeth sinking into your skin. You clutch at him, nails digging into his back, urging him deeper. The sensation is electric, overwhelming, and you arch into him, your breath mingling with his as you stare downward at the connection of your bodies.

You watch with an almost voyeuristic fascination as every inch and vein slowly disappears inside you. The sensation is overwhelming—every ridge and curve of his cock stretching you perfectly, filling you with a heat that borders on unbearable. Choso's breath is a series of ragged, desperate gasps. His eyes narrow to hot-whiskey slits that are caught between wanting to watch and needing to look away as he fights to maintain a very fragile sense of control. His teeth sink into the plush of his lower lip, almost hard enough to break through the satin-soft skin.

When he's about halfway in, he stops, tense and quivering, his cock pulsing inside you. "Oh god...fuck, you feel so good—I’m sorry, I can't—I just...shit, you're perfect...I'm so sorry—I need...I need this." He babbles, his words an unconscious stream of desire and apology. His body shakes with the effort of holding back, every other word punctuated by a shallow, needy thrust.

Your velvety walls clench around him, drawing a whimper from his lips as he grips your hips with bruising strength. "I’m sorry—can’t wait," he gasps, his voice trembling. With a sharp, desperate thrust, he buries himself fully inside you, the sudden fullness making you gasp, nails raking down his back as you cry out in bliss.

Once fully inside, Choso’s body relaxes, his tension melting away as if he’s finally home. His breath steadies, the frantic urgency pacified and giving way to a deep, consuming need for more. No longer driven by desperation, he seeks to savor every moment, to make this last, cherishing the sensation of being completely enveloped by your wet heat.

He pulls back slightly, the slow drag of his cock against your slick walls making both of you shudder, sweat springing up along your throat. His hands, no longer gripping you with bruising force, now glide gently over your skin, caressing, exploring. His eyes meet yours, filled with a tender intensity that takes your breath away. “I love you. You know I love you?” he whispers, his voice soft, and so so grateful.

His hips move with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust deep and measured, designed to draw out every pleasurable quiver he can wring from you. You moan softly, his words coiling around your brain like ivy vines and rooting deeply into the mortar. You are fluid above him, warm and malleable and so very his. Completely enthralled with the delight of being so selflessly possessed are you, that you need to possess him right back. He loves you and that feels better than anything.

Your legs coil tighter around his waist, drawing him closer, deeper. “ Mhm— ”  You lean your temple against his shoulder, a profound sense of relaxation blanketing you soul-deep, even as your body goes absolutely haywire just beneath the prickling surface of your skin.

The fire crackles beside you, casting a warm, flickering glow over your entwined bodies. When you look up at him with those adoring doe-eyes, the muscles in your stomach flex, drawing a deep grunt from Choso as he feels the sudden tightening. The flames paint his sweat-slicked skin in hues of orange, setting him ablaze. In that moment, you understand the fatal attraction of moths to a flame, feeling an irresistible pull toward the incandescent heat and the beautiful, dangerous glow of him. 

His hands brush down your sides as gently as if you were an antique vase, the same hands that tore your pants in two capable of such softness. His palms settle on your hips, kneading for a moment before curling into a gentle hold. He gives an experimental squeeze— lifting you up as he shifts back, and lowering you down as he rolls his hips up. 

You are utterly tranquil. Perched so prettily in his lap, skewered so softly on his cock and lulled with rocking pleasure so soothing you very well could sleep like this. The fire, him, surrounds you like a cocoon, a heady tonic borderline alcoholic in your placidity . It feels like sinking into a bath of milk and honey, your brain dopey and slow. But you feel his encouragement, the way he moves you up and down his length; every now and then by a stroke of chance he nudges against your sweet-spot, or his pelvis grinds just right against your clit, jolting you back to reality with a start.

It’s not enough to be an idle passenger, your body chases that instinctual high before your brain can fan away the fog. Your hips begin to rock against his in time, adjusting your angle, and as soon as you do, Choso sighs low and shakily against your ear. He holds you steady, aiding the slow oscillation of your body, encouraging your languid participation with an appreciative squeeze of his hands and a more forceful buck of his hips.

“ M’not gonna break—you…you can do more—”

At your insistence Choso groans as if he’d been waiting for permission to do exactly that. “You– yeah…oh–okay —”

His grip tightens, and ever your servant he thrusts into you harder in an effort to appease you, his movements growing more intense, more insistent. The change in pace sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, each thrust hitting deeper, each glide against your clit setting off bursts of ecstasy that makes your vision spot and rips those gorgeous little whines he cherishes straight from your chest.

Your breath hitches, and you start to meet his thrusts with equal zeal, fucking him back with newfound determination. The rhythm between you shifts, Choso’s hands sliding back from your hips to dig into the meat of your ass. His control, whatever little he had of it to begin with, starts to unravel. His eyes flutter shut, a strained moan escaping his lips. His hands, once guiding, now grip you almost helplessly, holding on as you move with increasing fervor.

Choso's brain melts under the onslaught of sensation. His thrusts become erratic, less coordinated, until finally, he forgets to participate altogether, lost in the overwhelming pleasure you’re giving him. His hands fall to the side and brace back against the floor, and he surrenders completely, letting you use him, his body yours to command.

You take full advantage of his surrender, moving with a purpose, driven by a mounting need that seems to eclipse everything else. The slick, heated slide of his cock inside you, the way your bodies meld together with each rise and fall like grafted metal in a forge, tempered and hammered into something far more beautiful than your base materials; you succumb fully to the intoxication that starts as a slow embered burn low in your belly.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, each inhale tinged with the smoky scent of the fire, each exhale a soft moan of pleasure. The world narrows to the point of contact between you and Choso, the delicious friction, the way his length fills you so completely. Every grind against your bud is ruinous in your body, every nudge against your depths making you see stars.

Your mind feels suspended in a dreamy fog, every thought reduced to the primal, desperate need for release. You can feel your orgasm building, a tight coil of heat and pressure in your core. A garden blooms in your womb, overcome with the primitive need for it to be filled, belly round and full with Choso’s seed. But you do not care what becomes of that garden as molten heat spreads outward, burning it to ash and making your muscles tense and quiver. 

Your hips move faster, more urgently, chasing that peak, riding the wave of pleasure that threatens to consume you. You want to be consumed. Choso's moans mix with your own, his body a pliant vessel beneath you, his pleasure a mirror of your own.

And then, all at once, the coil snaps and your ears ring with a sound you only vaguely recognize as coming from your own mouth. Your orgasm crashes over you, powerful and all-consuming. Your body convulses with the force of it, muscles clenching around Choso's cock to suck him impossibly deeper as the pleasure ripples through you in intense, shuddering waves. Your vision blurs, and for a moment, you lose all sense of time and space, reduced to a primal, instinctual being driven solely by overwhelming bliss. You are something made perfect, born anew in the flood of holy fire and ecstasy. For that brief period you are nothing but stardust.

Choso’s voice breaks through the fog, a frantic litany of curses and gratitude spilling from his lips. " Fuckfuckfuck—thank you—so beautiful...oh fuck, you’re so perfect, " he babbles, his voice shaky with awe and need. The intensity of your climax has pushed him to the brink, and he’s barely holding on. His hands roam over your body, trembling with the effort to restrain himself.

His movements become erratic, driven by an almost savage pride that you came first, but now he’s desperate to find his own release. He sinks into you to the hilt, each movement filled with an urgent, raw need. The sensation of him jabbing into you, bluntly knocking on the door of your cervix prolongs your orgasm into the realm of exquisite agony.

Without warning, Choso shifts his weight, and in one fluid motion, topples you both over so you're on your back. The transition is seamless, and before you can catch your breath, he’s over you, inside you, fucking you into the floor with a relentless, desperate rhythm. The raw intensity in his eyes, the primal need driving his movements, rips your breath away before you’ve even begun to try to catch it.

Each thrust is powerful and deep, a claim and a plea all at once. You can see the strain in his muscles, feel the desperate edge to his movements as he chases his salvation in your body. The firelight casts shadows across his face, highlighting the fierce determination etched in his features. One hand grips your hip and the other flutters down your wrist to plait his fingers through yours, shakily moving it above your head to pin it to the rug.

He is wholly possessed by an uncharacteristically primal urge to take you , to etch himself into you, to rewrite your DNA with his name and be bound to you forever by something altogether greater than himself. “ Gah—gonna–gonna marry you. Haa– nngh! Have you forever— ”

Choso’s thrusts become more erratic, his breathing more ragged. " Gonna...gonna cum, " he gasps, his voice thick with needy warning. His eyes lock onto yours, a silent plea for release. And then, with a final, deep thrust, he shudders violently, his orgasm punching against his abs as he shouts and buries his face in the crook of your neck as he cums. You feel the muscles in his back bunch and tense as he spills himself inside you, each forceful contraction painting your walls with his warmth. 

His cum coats you, thick and hot, sticking inside you as he continues to move slowly, coaxing it deeper. He fucks it into you with tender, deliberate thrusts, bidding it to seep into your womb, ensuring every drop is claimed.

Choso collapses onto you like a warm, protective blanket, his weight a soothing comfort and far from oppressive. The two of you lie there entwined and spent, bodies still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure, your skin slick with flame-licked sweat. The silence between you is broken only by your shared, labored breaths and the soft pop and crackle of the fire beside you. He doesn’t move, his body gone completely boneless, and neither do you unwilling to disturb him or yourself. The quiet wraps you both in a cocoon of tender, post-orgasmic bliss.

Eventually, you begin to rouse him with soft kisses along his jaw, your lips brushing tenderly against his skin. He laughs, a bubbly, euphoric sound that makes your heart swell. The sound is infectious, and soon you find yourself giggling too.

Choso shifts slightly, propping himself up just enough to meet your dewy gaze, his exhaustion evident in his heavy-lidded eyes warmed like melted honey. He presses his nose to yours, the touch soft and sweet, before tilting to plant the lightest of kisses on your lips, then your cheeks, then your forehead, showering you with affection and gratitude. "Can we come here every year?" he whispers hopefully.

You smile, your heart swelling with tenderness. "Every year," you promise.