#they’re both still skirting the edge of following orders

[see-arcane]

If I understood correctly, Jonathan was planning on sending Mina to their home because she seems miserable being idle?

That and probably genuine anxiety about the fact that Dracula is active in the area, yeah.

Even though Mina is putting on her best This Is Fine :) act for him and the others just as he’s putting on his own, you can’t really bury what you Know about your beloved after being together for years. Even if Mina were putting on an Oscar-worthy performance, Jonathan was always going to see through it (and vice versa).

All that said, yes, he wants her home where she can be safe and active. Because he loves her and knows her…and likely because he knows the unique hell of being confined like a comforting and kept-ignorant/inert pet from the castle stay. Jonathan Harker has spent approximately two (2) days following Van Helsing and company’s lead on this and Cannot Stand It and knows Mina is cramping against it too.

RIP to the doctor-husband in “The Yellow Wallpaper,” but the Harkers are not about that stagnating bullshit. Tried it. Hated it. Mina already has the train times ready, she’s going home to vampire-proof the house, byyye—

(hey weird why are they both so sleepy all of a suddenzzzzzz)

[jemmo]

ok. here’s some of my immediate, rambly reactions to eps 3 and 4 of t8s.

first off, i was kinda nervous the entire day. it’s been a while since ive had butterflies like this waiting for a show to air, most recently was the second season of utsukushii kare, but the level it was today was rivalling waiting on a friday for a new bad buddy ep. and the fact this show managed to put me into that state within less than a week is frankly insane, and shows just how down bad i am for it. all that to say, i so soooooo didnt this want this to be a case of me overinflating how good those first 2 eps only for the follow up to not encapsulate the same feelings. all signs were pointing to that not being the case, but still, when you hyperfixate, you kinda get nervous hoping that thing lives up to everything youve built it up to be. and these eps absolutely did that. they didnt just live up to expectations, but are managing to give me scenes and story beats and emotions i just cant predict at this point, and i love that. just how like this budding relationship feels new and unpredictable to jihyun and jaewon, the show is like that for me to watch, and it does wonders for giving me the same butterflies the two are feeling.

but with that unpredictability comes a kind of uncertainty, not knowing whats gonna happen at any turn, and i cant express how much i adore that about these two eps. with the kind of story theyre building, with jaewon’s mental health struggles and his past, with jihyuns nerves and growth in an unfamiliar environment, itd be so easy to make their relationship a shared place of comfort and certainty and familiarity for each other. that place of refuge. and while i feel like that’s what it’ll eventually become, i love that still, in these early stages, the relationship feels so uncertain and almost not guaranteed. it makes you still hang onto every look and touch and word even though theyve already kissed. something about it doesnt feel pre-determined, which is a feeling i get with so many other bl’s when you know, a majority of the time, they’ll get together and have a happy ending. that doesnt feel guaranteed here (even though i pray for that to be the case). instead, it feels like im watching two individuals that are actually having to make a conscious effort in order for this relationship to become something. they have to work for that certainty. and that kind of knife’s edge, it could break at any moment, hanging on every interaction is packed with that specific kind of nervous exhilaration that is so fucking accurate and true to the start of relationship. i seriously cant describe how perfectly they managed to encapsulate that feeling and convey it with such authenticity. its actually ridiculous. seeing those moments, when they’re talking and skirting so closely around the topic of what exactly they are, when then their fingers brush and you are begging for one of them to make the tiniest of moves, to take hold, to make that kind of a statement no matter how small or silent it is, it makes your heart race, bc its new and unknown and in that moment its like your insides are screaming, begging you to embed this sensation into your veins bc you dont know when the next night like this, when the midnight chill and the dusky sky and the hints of alcohol in your system will mix right and make you feel so hedonistically giddy as you do right now at the feeling of that person by your side. and the way they both chase that sensation, how visibly happy it makes them, a craving for each other and that shared thrill only they know, it is just so unbelievably intoxicating to watch. 

i am a person that struggles to sit down and focus. im watching tv but im also knitting, im playing a game but also listening to a podcast. im that person that has to overwhelm my senses to feel sated. this is the first time in a while that ive sat down to watch something and nothing stole my focus, i wasnt distracted, my mind didnt wander. i wasnt concious of the other people walking around my house or the traffic outside or the temperature of the room, i was just fully engrossed. i let every ebb and flow of the scenes and story take me on this path it was guiding me down. and again, thats how they feel. when jihyun and jaewon are alone together, everything else fades away to this dull buzz of background nothingness, they become engrossed in each other, and just as the story pulls me, they pull each other. there’s a constant back and forth, an exchange of setting and challenging boundaries that i adore. when youre getting into a scene, you dont know whos gonna be the one pushing the other. you have jihyun being more forward by the han river, teaching jaewon to draw, then you have jaewon going after jihyun at the library, you have him meeting jihyun after work only for jihyun to ask him to stay and have a drink. its like with every interaction, theyre both asking ‘is this ok?’ and the other asks ‘can we go further?’. i wanna make a whole other post about the nature of their gap in age and experience and all that brings and also how the expectations it brings are subverted, but for now i just wanna say how great it is that there is this balance, and especially that jihyun is allowed to be confident and brave and forward with jaewon, and jaewon is allowed to be reserved and giddy around jihyun. those are experiences so often reserved for the elder and the younger in a relationship, respectively, so to let jihyun be the leader and jaewon the follower, swept up by his feelings and attraction is so refreshing and plays so well into the kind of growth we’re gonna see from these characters and that they need, jihyun growing out of this shy country mouse persona to be more forward and bold, and jaewon being allowed to drop his mask of bravado and letting him be a young person that doesn’t have to be in control of everything. we see that one of his main pressures is the concept of the future, of how simultaneously wide and full of possibilities but also narrow and predetermined that future is for him. he talks about being afraid to lose the comfort of a microcosm like the army of school, even though they are places where he isnt necessarily happy. and then in comes jihyun, something not predetermined, something unexpected, and he takes control of jaewons future in a way by opening up this new path for him. he’s taking some of that stress from jaewon’s shoulders by being an equal and responsive partner in this journey, and offers the chance for jaewon to have something certain in his future, only if he too will work for it. only too if he tries something new, realises that its not too late, and that the anxiety and fear and uncertainty that comes with it may be worth it. bc it may not be guaranteed, but to try instead of never knowing is the only way he can make this possible.

tldr; this show is breath-taking, and im gonna be emo about it for a very long time

[norahastuff]

penny for your thoughts on salmondean codependency ?

Sure. Fair warning it’s long (was longer but I stopped myself.)

I think it’s complicated in a show that’s had so many different showrunners because they’ve all handled Sam and Dean’s relationship very differently. In Kripke’s era (s1-5) there was a romanticization of the bond. Sure there was a lot of in-depth exploration of how they wound up at the place they were at, spoiler alert: it was all because of John and his obsessive crusade to find the demon that killed his wife. That’s all he cared about and as a result, Sam and Dean had to be everything to each other. But Kripke had no intention of dismantling that at any point because he was (and always had been) writing a tragedy. Gamble continued that too. There was no room for anyone else in their lives and it would always just be the two of them against the world. So Cas had to go. Bobby had to go.

(Actually, it's funny because Gamble didn't intend this at the time, her plan was to kill Cas off, but by Edlund creating the masterpiece that is The Man Who Would Be King, he not only saved Cas from being seen as a villain, but he also deepened Dean and Cas' relationship in such a profound way and inextricably linked the two of them emotionally. And since Cas was eventually brought back, that laid the foundation for a lot of what their relationship would become.)

Up until this point, there hadn’t really been any significant dismantling of perhaps the more unhealthy parts of Sam and Dean’s relationship. Enter Carver. He stripped things down and started to explore what drove these characters. What they wanted and why they couldn’t have it. It starts with Dean being mad at Sam for not looking for him in purgatory, which sets up the whole speech in the s8 finale of Sam’s guilt about letting Dean down, but the thing is, Dean was never honest with Sam about his year away either. He never told Sam he could have gotten out much sooner if he hadn’t stayed to find Cas. I mean Dean had assumed Sam was up there alone doing God knows what to try to bring him back, and yet still he stayed in Purgatory because things were clear there. He needed Cas. Anyway, I just find that interesting, but Cas isn’t a victim of Sam and Dean’s relationship in s8.

Who gets the honour of being cast aside? That would be Benny and Amelia, two characters they introduced in s8 specifically to highlight that Sam and Dean’s relationship doesn’t allow for anyone else to be a significant part of their life. I mean that’s nothing new, we’ve watched that happen many times before. Lisa even said as much to Dean. The thing is this time? It’s framed as a truly sad thing. That moment at the end of 8x10 when Dean has just ended things with Benny and Sam leaves Amelia, and they’re sitting alone drinking beer and watching tv is such a hollow empty moment. This is not what they want. But it’s the way things have to be.

I’m actually fascinated by Sam and Dean’s conversation in the church in the s8 finale. Not so much Dean’s assertion that there is no one else he would put before Sam, but more so what provokes it, which is Sam saying “who are you going to turn to instead of me. Another angel? Another vampire?” See the thing is Dean saying he would always put Sam first is not news. We know this and it’s not really an unhealthy statement in itself either. A lot of people would put their sibling above anything else, not less a sibling who you raised and is the most important person to you. But in this context? After what Sam said? It just highlights how unhealthy they are if Sam believes that Dean having other people in his life means he doesn’t love him enough. That he’s a disappointment to him. That’s so profoundly fucked up.

(Note, Dean tells Sam that he killed Benny for him but he doesn’t say anything about Cas. I think like I said before, this is because Cas and Dean’s relationship has largely existed out of the Sam and Dean stuff up to this point - Sam and Cas don’t even really have much of a relationship yet besides both of their connections to Dean.)

And then from here, things start getting steadily worse. But we also keep being shown how bad they are. Dean lying to Sam, taking away his free will by letting Gadreel possess him. Dean sending Cas away, Kevin dying. It’s all awful. The whole “there ain’t no me if there ain’t no you line” from 9x01 isn’t really said by Dean, it’s Gadreel, but that is how Dean feels. He does think that’s all he’s good for. And over the season we’re shown how much of himself and what he truly wants he’s had to give up because of his ingrained “Save Sammy” and “Sammy comes first” mentality. It’s always been this way for him. In 9x07 we see that he had found a happy home, a good father figure, and his first love, a first love might I add that he had to leave behind with no real explanation because Sam needed him, and Sam comes first.

I mean just one episode earlier we had him rushing out the door elated about seeing Cas and spending time with him, only for their time together to come to sad and melancholic end when Dean once again leaves Cas behind without any real explanation, because despite what he wants Sammy comes first. What he wants doesn’t matter.

See I think after the Gadreel stuff comes out is where the narrative starts to get a little wonky for me. You can clearly see that this was intended to be a shorter story that they ended up stretching out to a much longer one because of renewals. There’s also the fact that this is a formula show so they can’t necessarily be separated for longer than an episode or two. S10 is a rough one to get through at times, I think the themes still mostly hold up but it’s a rough one to get through.

S10 highlights all the connections that Dean has, Cas, Charlie, Crowley even, but Sam doesn’t really have those bonds in the same way.  For Sam it’s just Dean, so he goes down a reckless destructive “do anything to save Dean!” path and so many innocents pay the price, and ultimately with the release of The Darkness, the whole world.

They skirted right up to the edge of exploring just how toxic and dangerous their relationship had become in the season 10 finale.

DEAN: I let Rudy die. How was that not evil? I know what I am, Sam. But who were you when you drove that man to sell his soul... Or when you bullied Charlie into getting herself killed? And to what end? A..a good end? A just end? To remove the Mark no matter what the consequences? Sam, how is that not evil? I have this thing on my arm, and you're willing to let the Darkness into the world.

I can’t say evil is the right word, they were never evil, but they were wilfully blind to everything and everyone else when it came to saving each other. S10 tested my love for the show because after watching it, because there was certainly a feeling that the two of them had become the villains of this story. And don’t get me wrong, I didn’t have a problem with that, it’s just after 2 seasons of this I can’t say I had a lot of faith that this was going to be properly addressed or if we were going to keep going in circles around it. Keep being shown, it’s bad and then nothing much being done to fix it. Your mileage may vary on how it was handled, but I think s11 did a relatively ok job considering it wasn’t the end of the story, and the show needed to keep going.

See from Dean’s side a lot of the codependency rests on 1. His father’s orders to always save Sammy 2. His low self-esteem where he sees himself as nothing but a blunt instrument. 3. His guilt at not being able to perfectly fulfil every familial role in Sam’s life 4. His belief that no one could choose to love him but family has to love you. 5. The unhealthy example of what it should look like to love someone that he got from John. You give up everything but them.

For Sam (and honestly it’s not as clear for me as Dean’s side is so feel free to correct me/disagree on this) 1. Everytime he’s tried to leave and create his own life it’s never ended well. 2. His guilt over wanting freedom and a normal life when he was younger (I’m referring specifically to Stanford era here) 3. His guilt over everything Dean has given up for him. 4. John. 5. Jess.

Ultimately it all comes down to isolation. They both had to be everything to each other, and the deeper they got into this fight, the more people that they lost, the tighter they clung to this notion of family and brothers. I think s11 (and 11x23 in particular) was an important turning point, both for Sam and Dean’s relationship, as well as for them as individuals. Because they weren’t alone there anymore. Cas was there. Sam let Dean walk to his death. Of course, it would devastate him, but he knew it was what had to be done. And he didn’t walk out of that bar and go back to the bunker alone. He had Cas, he had someone who cared about him and wanted to help him and talk to him. Sure Dean asked Cas to take care of Sam for him (you know after Cas offered to walk to his death with him) but Sam let him. He let him be there for him. We didn’t get to see much before the BMOL showed up and blasted Cas away, but still, we saw enough.

I think that’s a significant difference to note why their relationship was different in the Dabb era. It wasn’t just them anymore. Cas was an important member of their family and given a level of importance he’d never been given before and couldn’t have been when the story they were telling was of the dangers of their codependency. Mary was back. Eventually, Jack would become a part of their unit too. Just the two of them wasn’t enough for them anymore. This is made abundantly clear with all of Dean’s desperate attempts to get Cas to stay in s12, followed by his inability to keep going when they lose Cas and Mary in s13. Similarly, Sam really struggles when they lose Jack and fail to get Mary back later in the season.

Another big moment is Dean letting Sam go alone to lead the hunters against the BMOL in 12x22 while he stays back to try and reach Mary. Like he tells Mary, he’s had to be a brother, a father and a mother to Sam and he never stopped seeing him as his kid, but in that moment he makes a choice. He lets Sam take charge and he shows that he trusts him and believes in him. He knows he can handle it.

Sometimes it’s not even a character growth thing. Sometimes having other people there stops you from making destructive choices even though that’s still your first instinct. I’m thinking specifically of 13x21 after Sam was killed. Dean would have run headlong into that nest of vampires and got himself torn apart, but Cas was there to stop him. He was able to make him see reason.

Basically, I think that for a long time, they thought the only relationship they could have was each other, which then became a self-fulfilling prophecy because their desperate attempts to keep each other around led to them losing the people around them. They eventually started to learn that that wasn’t true, they could have more, they were allowed to want more, and that it wasn’t an either-or situation. Dean didn’t have to choose between Sam and Cas. They didn’t have to choose between each other or Jack. The same goes for Mary. Different relationships can coexist without threatening each other, and not say that their relationship in s12-15 was all smooth sailing, but it was certainly so very different from everything that came before.

(There’s maybe a point to be made about how they didn’t have anyone or anything in the finale and how that relates to the story we got, but honestly I have no idea what the intention was with any of the choices made in that episode so I’ll leave it at that for now.)

[yutahoes]

Reward

pairing : soccer player! boyfriend! Yuta Nakamoto x Reader

genre : smut, fluff (if you squint)

warning : toys, slight exhibitionism, fingering, shower sex, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex  

word count : 1.8k words. 

summary : You wanted to give him his reward for winning the game. 

for @neosmutcollective​‘s Wet and Wild  

gif not mine, just a reference for Yuta’s look. went all in with the smut, sorry 😅

The audiences’ cheers rambled all through the stadium as the announcement of the soccer champion is made. It was well-deserved, you thought. Everyone in that team played really well. Especially your boyfriend, Nakamoto Yuta. 

If not for your soccer superstar, you’ll be at home now. Missing him. Horny. 

It’s probably because you’re ovulating. You’re craving for him. Wanting his heat. 

It doesn’t help that he looks like a snack in his soccer uniform, with that long black hair that you love to thread your fingers to, and that red lips that looked delectable. 

You want him. You need him. 

Everyone was standing as they welcome the victors of the game but you’re still seated, hidden behind people. Your knuckles were turning white as you tightly grasp on the edge of your seat at the orgasm building inside you. You’re dripping wet and the small bullet vibrator kept on buzzing inside you, eager to get you off. You bit your lip as you try to suppress a moan, head lolling back and eyes closed as the pleasure hit you. You crossed your legs, coughing lightly to avoid a chuckle to escape your lips. How experimental of you to have an orgasm in a public place. In the middle of strangers who might see you. 

You gulped when your eyes met his. He saw you. He was watching you. He knew. 

Yuta cocked his head to the side, motioning for the old locker room located on the left side of the soccer field. He slipped past his teammates who were still basking in their win and you followed him. 

He was seated on the bench, staring at you. His legs were spread in a cocky way as you approached him nervously. The doors were just closed; you cannot lock them. And someone can come in and see the two of you. Yet, the thought turned you on. Do you have an exhibitionist kink that you haven’t explored yet? 

“Sit.” It was a threat, you knew. And you wanted him so bad to argue with him. 

You were supposed to sit down beside him but he gestured for his lap. Your underwear is soaked that you gave a quiet moan when he jerked his thigh. The vibrator slightly poking your inside. “Are you having fun with your little friend?” He asked while bouncing you in his lap. 

Your hands held tight on his shoulder, bending your body forward as you desperately cling to him. “I need you, Yuta. Please.” You heard him chuckle. His hand went inside your skirt then inside your underwear just to take off the vibrator. His index finger slipped inside you, drawing circles that caused you to whimper. “Please.” 

He removed his finger in you then slipped it between your lips, tasting yourself. “Are you sure?” He asked while raising an eyebrow at you. “You’re taking your little friend so well.” 

“I want your cum inside me, Yuta.” 

He grinned. That evil grin that you knew he’s planning something. “I want to shower first. Do you want to join me?” 

“I don’t have extra clothes…”

“That’s why we’re getting in there naked.” He removed your blouse then your skirt, putting it inside his locker. Your bra and soaked underwear joining the pieces of cloth inside. He kissed your neck then groped your breast when he kissed you on the mouth. 

You heard a shuffle of feet and voices outside that startled you. Shit, his teammates are coming and you’re naked. “Last cubicle, right. Wait for me.” He ordered, slapping your naked butt as you turn around to run to the cubicle he mentioned. 

“Oh, I thought you left already.” It was Johnny’s, the team’s goalkeeper, voice. 

“Yeah, I want to shower first.” You heard Yuta say. Footsteps can be heard coming your way and the door opened followed by his menacing grin. “I thought you’re using the new locker room today.” You heard a click and he was pushing you to the wall, his tongue automatically slithering inside your mouth. One hand groped your breast as the other turned the shower open. 

He’s so rough. When his hand cupped your naked wetness, a quiet moan escaped your mouth. He immediately kissed you, devouring the screams of pleasure you made because of his hands inside you. “So noisy,” he whispered against your ear. “We have to do something with your mouth, baby.” 

You immediately knew what it was and didn’t need further instructions as you get on your knees in front of him. His hair was already wet, falling on his face that made you gasp. He’s so hot. The water from the shower cascaded down his lean body and you stared at the perfection in front of you. Your hand reached for his balls then darted your tongue to lick his tip. 

“Yuta.” You heard another voice, Taeyong’s. “I saw your girlfriend earlier.” Your boyfriend just looked at you as you started taking his length in your mouth. Both his arms were on the bathroom wall, back leaned forward that the water hit his back. Your tongue kept playing with his cock, teeth lightly grazing on the side. “She always supports you in your games.” 

His tip hit the back of your throat, moaning lightly. “Yeah, she’s the best.” You heard him say as he held the back of your head, grasping your hair. He started thrusting his cock in your mouth as your nails claw on his thigh. 

“She’s really pretty.” You heard Johnny said and if possible, you felt Yuta twitch inside you. Is he turned on by this? “Even Doyoung has a crush on her.” This is news to you. They always seem so cold towards you that you thought his teammates hated you but maybe, they’re just awkward with a girl. Your boyfriend’s thrust never faltered, even quickening in pace that if not for the hold on your head, you might bump your head on the wall.  

One of the showers stopped then you heard a door opened. “She looks like an angel,” Taeyong claimed that almost made you laugh. An angel? Will they still call you that if they saw you now, on your knees and your mouth agape as Yuta use you like his personal glory hole. 

He removed his cock on you, the tip already red. His hands jerking his length as white spurts of cum shot on your face and your breasts. “Yeah, she looks good in white.” You lightly hit his thigh as he chuckled at what he did. 

Yuta removed the showerhead while helping you stand up, washing off the cum in your hair then your breasts, groping and rubbing them. You were biting your bottom lip the whole time, preventing a moan to escape since you knew Johnny and Taeyong are still inside the room. Your boyfriend turned you around, his cock hardening once again between your legs. You can feel the water pressure of the showerhead on your body as he moved it south. His free hand covered your mouth when you created a small sound at the moment he placed the showerhead between your legs, water hitting your core. 

“Be quiet,” he whispered, slipping two fingers inside your mouth which you gladly lapped up. You were squirming at the pleasure, one hand on the wall while the other desperately held to his arm. You wanted to shout at how good he’s making you, wanted his friends to know that you’re not an angel but a bitch in heat for Yuta. His slut. You wanted him, you needed him. Your breathing was heavy. Your head spinning with lust. You managed to remove his fingers in your mouth then whispered the word “Fuck me, please”

He smirked before bending your body forward that you held to the wall. The showerhead still between your legs, but now hitting your clit as he entered you from behind. You were thankful that you were holding the wall as he thrust inside you in powerful strides or you might hit your head or slip down. But you’re desperate for something to claw on, for something to dig your nails into with the immense pleasure surging through your body. 

You were about to shout when Johnny’s voice can be heard. “Dude, aren’t you done?” They’re still here so you bit your lip, hard. He kept his pace, eager to get you an orgasm. “We’ll get going first.” 

“Yeah. sure.” Yuta answered calmly. One hand groped your breast too hard that you created a soft sound. You tasted iron in your tongue and your lips starting to hurt. Why can’t they leave already? 

A knock on your cubicle door can be heard. “Yuta, are you alright?” Taeyong asked. 

You thought Yuta would stop but he didn’t. Instead, he quickened his thrusts. He’s actually turned on by this? Maybe it is him who has an exhibition kink. And the idea made you so horny that you started clenching on him. “Yeah,” he answered, coughing lightly to avoid the strain in his voice. “I’m good.”   

He is. You thought. He’s really good. 

“We’re going to the restaurant downtown. Are you coming?” 

He hugged you from the back, his hips jerking at you. The shower head was now on the floor as one of his hands fiddled with your nipples, the other rubbing your clit. The pleasure is too much that you started grinding on him, eager to have your orgasm. You felt the familiar coil in your stomach, his cock twitching at your clenching core.  “I’m…” He started, voice shaking. You felt something warm inside you as you felt your release. “Coming.” 

You heard footsteps then it disappeared. Your boyfriend pulled out of you then held you in his arms, kissing you in the mouth. You were breathless, wet, and sticky. “We should do this again.” he whispered then licked the blood on your lip. You nodded. This is one hell of a sexual adventure. 

He cleaned you up, even letting you wear his clean jersey shirt that has his surname marked on the back. “Nakamoto looks good on you.” You lightly hit his arm as you exit the locker room, surprised that Taeyong and Johnny were outside. “Why are you two still here?” 

The two guys shrugged then walked away, “I wonder why Y/N’s lip was bleeding.” Taeyong claimed. 

“Maybe they’re into marking now,” Johnny explained. “Even his surname is now marked on her.” 

“I don’t think I can enter that cubicle after today.” 

The taller guy laughed. “You’re lucky, we didn’t use the new locker rooms today. The cubicles are wide open.” 

You gasped then held on to Yuta’s arm. Funny, you thought, why did you feel tingly all of a sudden? You lightly glanced at him and he smirked at you. Is he thinking what you’re thinking? Your boyfriend held your waist, pulling you closer. “Next game. Should we let Taeyong or Johnny watch?” You stared at him, “Or maybe Doyoung?” Is he serious?

You gave him an innocent smile. This is your reward for him. Why does it feel like a reward for you? “Do well next game.” And you knew, he will. 

[sondepoch]

Lighter (3/5)

Breaking the Collar

Nine months in the human trafficking circuit has destroyed every sense of normality you ever knew. For you, it's commonplace to be ordered on your knees for your owner, his clients, anyone else Childe deems necessary—and you've reached a point where you accept it this misery, just going along with the motions of life because there's nothing else to do.

Diluc and Kaeya change that.

They enter your life on a regular workday afternoon, stepping inside Childe's massive office under the pretense of sorting out a business deal, but a single hastily written message makes it clear that they're not here to hurt you: they're here to help you.

The only issue is that you have no idea how to escape Childe.

Fastened | Unlockable | Lighter | Breaking | Broken | Gone | ✔

MASTERLIST

There’s something demeaning about the outfit Childe has picked for you today. It’s nothing unlike what he had you wear when he last took you outside the apartment, when he brought you on a train to Xiangling’s restaurant, but the blouse and skirt he has you in today are looser than before, and skimpier, too. 

The thought confuses you until you realize that it’s because where you were previously dressed like a regular girl, in fairly modest clothes that were designed to shy away from attention, you’re now dressed like a slave once more: like a little sex toy that can only wear thin, loose clothes so her owner, alongside all her owner’s friends, can have easy access to the pretty tits and cunt beneath.

It should make you sick. 

Yet, as Childe slips his hand underneath your skirt to grip your thigh, the only thing that disgusts you is how easily you find yourself relaxing into his touch. 

“Angel,” Childe murmurs into your ear, voice hovering lowly under the quiet buzz of the van you both sit in. “Angel, I have a present for you.”

That catches your attention. You turn your head to your owner, eyebrows lifted in confusion, as Childe pulls a box from his pocket.

Immediately, you know what’s inside.

The first few gifts Childe gave you were all varied: the very first was, of course, the necklace he gave you in place of the ugly, metal collar all the other girls have to wear. The second was his jacket, too tattered for him to use anymore but literal paradise for someone like you, who had already grown used to spending every waking moment naked. Then, his presents began to come in the shape of services rather than material objects—the decision to allow you to sleep on a bed, the decision to let you eat better-quality meals, the decision to spare you from being sent to Scaramouche for a beating as punishment for a stupid blunder you once made—but after a certain period, Childe had granted you all the freedom he could give.

Then, his presents had to change.

He began gifting you jewels, all of them in different colors but always unfairly expensive, to make your collar sparkle.

You make no haste in opening the black, velvet box Childe gives you, eyes bright. You don’t think twice about how embarrassing it is that he’s conditioned you to associate these little gemstones (probably worth mere pennies to a man as wealthy as Childe) with happiness, but even you can’t keep the smile off your face as you snap open the box and see a blue twinkle staring back at you. 

“It’s a sapphire,” Childe explains, pulling the gemstone out by the short, silver chain it dangles from. “Since you told me that you like colorful stones.”

You remember saying that. It was true: being Childe’s favored toy meant that you were always by his side; it gave you no room for pastimes, and so you found that the most entertaining thing to do was toy with the shiny stones that dangled off your collar and angle them into the light to trace patterns into the ceiling. It’s an activity that works best with larger, colorful stones: the dainty diamonds Childe always used to gift you didn’t work half as well.

“Do you like it?” the man asks, staring down at you. “I thought you deserved a reward so behaving so well last time we went out. If you’re good this time as well, I’ll give you another one.”

I won’t be here for you to give me another one, you think. 

“I like it,” you say, ignoring how your heart instinctively speeds up with—is it fear? concern? hesitation?— when that thought runs through your mind. “Thank you, Sir.”

Childe grimaces.

“I mean, Ajax.”

Calling him by his name is still a hard habit to get into, but you find that the syllables roll off your tongue much smoother now. Alas, you shouldn’t need to worry about it too much longer. Not if today’s meeting with Diluc and Kaeya goes as planned.

“Here, lean forward so I can put it on you.”

The way you arch your neck forward is familiar. You and Childe have been in this position countless times before, him always being the one to fasten his gifts to your collar, and it shows in how quick Childe’s fingers are in attaching the short chain of the sapphire to your necklace. Within seconds, you feel the task’s completion as you lean your head back and smile at your owner, the weight around your neck marginally heavier than when you both stepped inside this van.

“It looks good,” Childe says, squeezing your thigh gently. “You look good.”

“Thank you,” you say like a good little slave. Then, you decide to go the extra mile. “Ajax.”

The man doesn’t respond to that, opting to glance out the window as his driver speeds down the highway that’ll doubtlessly bring you both to the office Diluc and Kaeya share, but you can see the edges of his lips curling upward. It’s rare, after all, for you to address him by name. No matter how much he loves it, your tongue still says “sir” on instinct, a little crack in the homey picture Childe is building with you in his mind.

It’s not like it matters, you think, stopping yourself from thinking too much about your owner before you can begin to feel bad. If all goes well, I won’t ever have to see him again.

The thought instinctively brings a smile to your face, but it falls just as fast.

If.

Looking back, the message Diluc and Kaeya gave you was cryptic. ‘WE CAN HELP YOU’ provides no accurate timeline to place your hopes in. The second message, ‘COME WITH TARTAGLIA NEXT WEEK AND WE CAN FREE YOU’ was of the same nature. Up til now, you’ve been vaguely interpreting their words to mean that they would free you immediately if you managed to go with Childe to this meeting. But the human trafficking world is so complicated, and you can’t help but think that things may be delayed even longer.

All you can do is hope for the best and pray that reality won’t disappoint.

“How much longer?” you ask your owner after the view outside the window has changed from a highway to a cityscape.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” Childe chuckles. “We should be there any time soon. Keep an eye out. Their office is in one of the big buildings.”

That doesn’t tell you much, given that nearly every building this van drives past is over fifteen stories high. 

You’re in the middle of scoffing at Childe’s poor description of the office when the car finally stops: and only then do you understand that when he said “one of the big buildings,” he meant the biggest fucking building in the entire city.

You’re gawking like a fool as Childe helps you out of the car, mentally overwhelmed at the sheer size of what has to be the tallest office in Snezhnaya. 

“It’s…” 

Big doesn’t begin to describe the grandeur of this place. It’s nothing you’d expect from two men who are working undercover to free people from human trafficking: it's got to be the most eye-catching thing you've ever seen, one hundred stories high or taller, with every inch of the exterior covered in wall-to-wall windows. It looks like an upscale version of Childe’s own office, and if you thought his building was lavish, then this is full-on opulent.

Your owner has to forcibly pull you forward to get you to move. 

You almost forget to tuck your precious jacket—the one you so foolishly forgot when you last went out in public, the one Childe insisted you bring this time in case you have another episode—underneath your arm because you’re so busy marveling at the exterior of the building, though you thankfully remember to do so right before the van door closes. 

“It’s nothing impressive,” Childe grumbles as he pulls you past the professional double doors. “Diluc and Kaeya are only renting the top ten floors here. They’re not even rich enough to purchase them.”

“Ten whole floors?” you ask, eyes round as you stare at the inside of the ground floor. Childe tugs you towards the elevator, and you’re just barely able to slow him down so you can stare at the marble floors, the expensive-looking paintings on the wall, the embodiment of wealth unlike anything you’ve ever seen. “Why do they need ten—”

“They’re sex traffickers, angel,” Childe tells you when the elevator doors shut. (You have to force yourself to refrain from marveling at how even this elevator seems posh and refined.) “They use the top floor for their own operations. The other nine are where they run their prostitution rings.”

Your face darkens at that. It must be the exact same as Childe’s office, where he has you and his other favored prostitutes up at the top with him, and all the girls he doesn’t want to show favoritism to are forced into the life they were meant to follow when they were brought into the human trafficking world: either as unpaid sex workers that are sold by the hour from Childe to other equally-awful clients or as human trafickees to be shipped to someone else if they prove to be too much trouble.

But then, you remember Diluc and Kaeya’s message.

‘WE CAN HELP YOU,’ they said.

There’s no way that they’re running a sex trafficking front up here. Childe must be wrong. It’s probably just a lie they told him to gain his trust so that they could best help you escape this life.

“They’re so arrogant,” Childe grumbles, crossing his arms. “I bet they chose this office just to piss me off. It’s bad business, too. They’re losing out on money by choosing such a fancy place. Not even the Snezhnayan sex work model will boost their profits.”

“What’s the Snezhnayan sex work model?”

“The system we use in the Fatui. It’s supposed to be the best, money-wise. You hand-train the elite girls as prostitutes so that the best ones become magnets for high-caliber clients. You sell off girls who don’t show promise early on. And then there’s a handful of average-quality, compliant girls you keep for the low-caliber clients that want a good fuck but can’t pay as much.” Childe folds his arms as he leans back against the elevator wall. “It's the most profitable method, even if it means that the girls you sell will always be low-quality.”

“Wouldn’t I be an elite girl?” you ask, staring at your owner. “You trained me, but I never had to work as a prostitute. And I only sometimes have to meet your clients, and—”

“You’re different,” Childe says, avoiding your eyes.

Immediately, you want to ask what he means by that. Unfortunately for you, the elevator doors open at that precise moment, and Childe leads you forward by the hand into an office that, now that you think about it, definitely was designed to upstage Childe’s own place of work.

“Come on, you can do it, baby.” A low coo from the left side of the room draws your attention, and your eyes widen in a mix of confusion, concern, and finally, horror. 

“Ignore Kaeya. Focus on my fingers. Relax your throat, doll, yes, just like that…”

Even Childe stiffens when he sees the three men splayed out on a couch: Diluc and Kaeya sandwiching a youthful-looking boy between them as Diluc shoves his hand down the boy’s throat and Kaeya strokes the boy’s small cock. 

For a moment, you don’t understand why the boy looks so wrecked, his braided hair dampened with sweat and his face covered in tears, but when your eyes watch as a trickle of sweat trails from the boy’s neck to his stomach, joining a copious amount of white fluid you can only imagine to be the result of countless orgasms, it’s clear that Kaeya’s overstimulating him. Add that to the way Diluc’s entire hand is slotted down the poor boy’s throat, and how the redhead is still stubbornly trying to get more inside, and it becomes clear that whatever this boy is feeling is far from pleasant.

The picture makes it irrevocably clear that this boy is to Diluc and Kaeya what you are to Childe. 

Instinctively, you imagine how you would feel if you were in such a position. Your worst memory under Childe, after all, is from the time when you were handed over to four men who fucked into your G-spot so vigorously that you cried at any sensation for hours. Your second worst memory is from the time when a client forced a massive dildo so big you couldn’t breathe down your throat and left you like that until Childe intervened. 

The idea of those two memories being combined into one makes you want to vomit. 

“Fucking hell,” Childe grunts once he’s past processing the image before him. “Get your toy out of here. Do you have to be so disgusting?”

“Oh, please,” Kaeya responds, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. He doesn’t stop stroking the boy’s cock. “You had your little angel out during our last meeting. Let us have a little fun now, alright?”

“Hell no. Even I don’t dabble in…” Childe sneers when he sees how young the boy seems to be. “Children.”

Diluc laughs, a deep, rich sound that reverberates through the room. “He’s older than he looks. We’re not scummy enough to deal in children, either, Tartaglia.”

“You’re scummy enough to have to share,” Childe says, scoffing. “What, did you guys spend so much money paying for this building’s rent that you couldn’t afford more than one kid to suit both your needs? The two of you look pathetic, you know.”

“I wouldn’t call it pathetic,” Kaeya offers. “It’s more like we know exactly what we want. And if we both want the same thing, we’re not going to waste our time with…” The man’s single eye skirts over your figure with purpose. “Cheap replacements.”

“Really, now?” You can sense Childe getting offended for you. “You think your little toy is better trained than my angel?”

“I don’t think it, Tartaglia. I know it.” Kaeya grins. He gives the boy’s cock another few strokes, going at the same pace, the small, red-flushed thing twitching furiously in response. “Just watch.”

Kaeya abruptly pulls back from the boy, lifting his hand in the air for dramatic effect, and one, two, three seconds pass where nothing happens. The little organ he’d been stroking still quivers, either from overstimulation or from desire, but the boy suppresses his orgasm, and you can see the desperate, shallow breaths he tries to take from around Diluc’s hand.

Then, it happens.

“Cum, Venti.”

On command, the boy keens, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his hips spasm and jerk up into nothing. Venti’s cock looks abused, a thought demonstrated by how little cum actually shoots into the air and onto his stomach, the substance looking more watery than it looks healthy.

You grimace when you understand how far Venti must have been pushed to reach this point. 

The boy practically melts into Kaeya’s hold after the orgasm has left his body, boneless after something so intense, and the final shreds of resistance he’d been offering Diluc’s hand disappear as the redhead’s wrist edges deeper into his throat.

“Such a good boy, isn’t he?” Kaeya says, grinning as he strokes Venti’s hair, brushing the sweat-stained bangs from his forehead. “He’s ‘Luc’s favorite. We haven’t had any discipline issues from him in years. Same goes for the rest of our merchandise.”

Kaeya’s words are a shameless flex on Childe: a reminder that your owner’s girls are so often poorly-trained and that even you, the star of his trafficking business, are secretly planning on running away.

You don’t need to look up at your owner’s expression to see the raw annoyance plastered onto his face. 

“No discipline issues?” Childe grunts. “So if I bought him from you and ordered him to kill himself right now, he’d do it?”

There’s a beat of silence.

Whatever response Kaeya was expecting, that wasn’t it.

Finally, Diluc speaks up.

“Venti, much like your toy over there, isn’t for sale.” Diluc withdraws most of his hand from the boy’s mouth, leaving only the tips of his fingers in such that Venti cranes his neck forward to suckle at them. “But if you want him gone that much, it’s fine. He has to go to work now, anyway.”

You can feel your eyebrows shoot up at that. Kaeya watches your expression, and he laughs.

“Sorry, girlie. I know your master over there likes to exercise preferential treatment with his pets, but we don’t do that in Mondstadt.” Kaeya gently pushes Venti to his feet, holding his hand until the shake of the boy’s feet subsides. “All our toys have to work. Favoritism should only go so far in a world like this.”

With that, Kaeya pats Venti’s butt and sends the boy off, and you watch in a mix of awe and horror as he stumbles towards the elevator to “work.”

If it were real, you’d be mortified. 

Venti was overstimulated to tears, his legs wobbling the whole time as he stumbled past you, the apples of his fair cheeks flushed a feverish red. There was saliva dripping down his chin, cum still smeared on his stomach, and the reek of sweat and sex wafting off the entirety of his stumbling, nude form.

But you comfort yourself with the knowledge that it was all just an act. 

You close your eyes and hold your jacket closer to your body as the elevator releases a low ding, forcing yourself to remember the message Diluc and Kaeya left for you that filled your heart with so much hope. What happened with Venti just now looked bad, but you’re certain that it was all part of their master strategy to deceive Childe until you’re free from him.

(If there’s a sudden thump of a body hitting the ground and a low groan from behind the elevator doors as soon as they shut, you force yourself not to pay attention to it.)

“Fucking finally,” Childe mutters as soon as Venti is gone. He shuffles forward and flops down onto a couch, pulling you with him. “Listen, I don’t want to be here any more than you guys want me here. Let’s get this over with quickly, shall we?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kaeya mumbles, using a sanitized cloth to clean his hands before slipping his usual gloves back on. Next to him, Diluc does the same. “All we need to do is fix a transportation route for the merch, right?”

“Yeah,” Childe grunts. “I already have some ideas. I own a parent company that sells furniture. If we can legally frame our transactions under the branch of…”

You zone out as soon as they begin using human trafficking jargon you barely understand.

This meeting is much more civilized than the previous, if the whole incident with Venti can be forgotten. The jabs Diluc and Kaeya make towards Childe are much more subtle, popping up rarer, too, and Childe doesn’t openly taunt them with your body the way he did in the first meeting. 

It takes nearly an hour before your owner even remembers you, and even then, his touches remain somewhat innocent. He only ever ghosts his fingers against your thigh, oft going down to drum his fingers against your knee while he continues to work out the logistics of his business deal. The touches honestly end up keeping you on edge with how delicate they are, and it’s right when his fingers have finally flitted up to the innards of your thigh, right when you’re holding your breath, right when Diluc and Kaeya’s eyes are fixated on where his palm has crept beneath your skirt, that his phone rings.

Immediately, Childe’s hands are off you. 

“I have to take this,” he says, wrapping a protective arm over your shoulder as he beckons you to stand next to him. “In private.”

“Take the elevator down to the second floor if you want privacy,” Diluc offers. “It’s not being rented out, and there aren’t any cameras there.”

“Thanks,” your owner says, leading you towards the elevator. 

“Wait,” Kaeya calls, right as you’re about to step in behind Childe. You glance behind your shoulder to stare at him, and the devious expression on his face concerns you. 

Kaeya winks at you a second before Childe, too, turns to face him.

“Leave your girl here with us, will you? Give us a treat to nibble on to kill the time.”

Immediately, you think that Kaeya has said the wrong thing. Childe is a fiercely protective man, over you more than anything else. There’s no way he’d leave you in the hands of two men he barely even likes, and it’ll probably only cast suspicion in his mind to hear Kaeya ask for you so candidly.

You shut your eyes, instinctively preparing to hear Childe’s rejection.

Instead, his tone is light when he speaks, almost amused. “Finally seeing how high-quality she is, eh?” Your owner is smiling at Kaeya, not an ounce of irritation, anger, or protectiveness on his face. “Fine. This call will take a while anyway. Just make sure you don’t wreck her too much.”

With that, the redhead steps into the elevator and leaves you with nothing more than a featherlight kiss to the temple, and you’re standing there, dumbfounded, for a full ten seconds before you process what has happened.

Alone, you realize with a start. I'm finally alone with them. 

Immediately, you sprint forward, grabbing Kaeya’s hand in an attempt to tug him off the couch, not caring about how you dropped your jacket on the floor in your rush.

“Come on,” you say, eyes wide. “If—if you want to set me free, we have to go now while he’s busy!”

But Kaeya doesn’t move an inch off the couch, instead pulling you onto his lap with a strength you didn’t realize he had. 

“What are you—”

“Shh, baby. We have to put on a show in case Tartaglia comes back, yeah?” You feel Diluc shuffle behind you, and the redhead is quick to wrap his hands around your hips from behind. 

The slowness, the casualness, the feigned normalcy of their actions dumbfounds you.

“Why aren’t we leaving?” you whisper, hands going up to grip at the fabric of Kaeya’s suit. “You said you’d free me if I managed to come to this meeting, so—”

“Relax,” Diluc mumbles into your ear, gloved hands sliding beneath your blouse to grope at your breasts. “Freeing you isn’t something we can do at the drop of a hat. It’s not just about you being here.”

“Right,” Kaeya says, his fingers slowly undoing the zipper on your skirt. “We asked you to come to this meeting to first check if it would even be possible to free you. A test, if you will. We weren’t sure you’d pass it. But if Tartaglia is willing to give you enough freedom to wander around with him, we figure you should also have enough freedom to do what needs to be done for us to free you.”

“What?” you whisper, trying to force back the tears that are pooling in your eyes. This is everything you’d feared: that Diluc and Kaeya’s idea of freeing you would be more complicated than you’d realized and that the whole process would require more time. “What do you need me to do to be free?”

“Aw, don’t cry.” Kaeya tosses your skirt to the floor right before he goes up to wipe away the tears from your face. “It’s not hard. We just need you to get ahold of Tartaglia’s fake documents on you.”

“His...what?”

Confusion is ultimately what brings a halt to your tears, and you cock your head naively at Kaeya right as Diluc speaks up.

“Fake documents,” Diluc explains, beginning to rub the front of his pants against your naked arse. “Every human trafficker has a series of documents for their merchandise that they can use for transportation and claim purposes. We need to get yours from Tartaglia.”

“Why can’t you take me away without them?” you plead, still clinging to the hope that you might be able to go free today. “Why do I have to—”

“Because, depending on how smart Tartaglia is, he can use those documents to rightfully get you back, even if we set you free.”

“What?” you ask. “How?”

“Think. If he has you listed on those documents as a minor, then the State can only do so much to protect you. Especially if he has himself listed down as your guardian. Even if you try to speak out against him, the Snezhnayan police won’t care. They’ll send you straight back to him, and you can bet that whatever freedoms you have now will be forever lost to you the second time around.”

“B-but, if I can prove that I’m not the person in his fake documents—”

“You can’t prove that,” Kaeya interrupts. “If you’re lucky, Tartaglia’s fake documents would be low-quality. But if he was smart, which we both know he is, then his documents will be of a high-enough quality that people will believe them when they see them. And unless you happen to have your official documents on you, there’s nothing you can do to protect yourself except steal the papers from Childe before he can use them.”

The annoyed, almost bored inflection of Kaeya’s voice shakes you to the core. They rattle this information off so quickly, so intuitively, so earnestly that you have no choice but to believe them.

“Okay,” you whisper, voice shaky. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll get the documents you want.”

“Do you know where he keeps them?” Diluc asks.

“I think so. He has a locked briefcase that he always keeps in his office. I don’t know the combination to open it, but I should be—”

“Good,” Kaeya interrupts. “You seem like a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Y-yeah,” you say, hesitant. The man’s words seemed like a compliment, but his tone felt much more derisive. “Um, is that all, or is there anything else I—”

“That’s all,” Diluc says. “Two weeks from now is when we’ll be ready to get you out of here. We’ll be staying in the hotel across from Tartaglia’s apartment. The two of us will be in rooms 213 and 214. Come find us at any time, and as long as you have the documents on you, we’ll be able to set you free.”

Your heart beats a little faster at that. 

“Really?” you whisper, almost not believing it. The goal you’ve been given is finally real: it’s tangible, so clear that you can already see yourself using something sharp to tear into Childe’s briefcase and retrieve your documents before you’ll finally be able to live a life you can be proud of.

Kaeya smiles when he sees the look on your face.

“Really,” he whispers, reaching a rough, gloved hand up to cup your cheek with infinite care. The kiss he coaxes you into is gentle, soft, and sweet. It’s everything he is, everything Childe isn’t. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning forward to wrap the man in a hug. You don’t care about the fact that Diluc has unbuttoned and pulled off your blouse now, leaving you effectively nude as you embrace Kaeya, but he doesn’t seem to mind either. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” the man whispers in response, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

The next minutes are marked by more peace than you’ve felt in months. Sandwiched between Diluc and Kaeya, you feel oddly safe. The roughness of their gloves stops bothering you, the silky brushes of their hair stop tickling you, and the closeness of their bodies, the warmth and the heat that radiates off them as naturally as light off the sun, only relaxes you in their arms.

When Kaeya begins playing with the jewels on your necklace, you don’t stop him.

“Tartaglia gave you this?” he asks, tugging gently at a diamond. 

“Yeah. They're all presents for being good.”

You can’t help the smile that blooms on your face as you say that: it’s like a reminder that you’re special, that you’re important, that even though you’re down in a world where your life isn’t even your own, you still have worth.

Behind you, Diluc’s fingers reach over your shoulder and begin lifting up individual stones to the light. “These are expensive,” he mutters, twisting a ruby among his leathered fingers. “More expensive than what someone would normally give to a slave.”

“I know,” you say. “It's because this is supposed to incentivize my good behavior, and—”

“No,” Diluc interrupts, voice soft. “It’s supposed to manipulate you.”

Your voice catches at that, and you glance at Kaeya for confirmation because you doubt it can be true. Not when Childe always seems so sweet when he gifts you these presents. Not when you've come to look forward to them as the one light in your life in this dark, dark world. But when the blue-haired man’s face twists into sympathy, your heart falls.

“B-but...I like…”

“You’re supposed to like it,” Diluc’s voice, rich and deep, rumbles out into your ear. ”But you need to understand that it’s not a necklace, doll. It’s a collar.”

“I know that,” you say, now wrapping your fingers around the chain protectively. “But I don’t—I don’t want—”

Kaeya kisses you, bringing two hands to your cheeks to cradle your face in his fingers.

“We’re not going to take it away from you, baby.”

He kisses you again.

“Relax.”

Those words soothe you in a way you can’t quite explain; the idea of losing your necklace, even being told that your necklace was a ploy to manipulate you (though you already knew that, to some extent), was unsettling. You much prefer the notion that it’s an innocuous gift: mainly because you’ve grown far too attached to it for it to represent human trafficking and all the pain you’ve had to endure thus far.

But, right when you’ve calmed yourself and forcibly stopped yourself from panicking, you feel a sharp tug on your neck.

“What did you—”

“Nothing,” Diluc says, holding two gemstones—two diamonds, one blue and one pink—in his palm. They still have their chain attached to them, but that's it: there's nothing connecting the diamonds to your necklace, the chains having been ripped off.  You feel your expression change as you see what he's done. “Just—”

“What did you do?!” you blurt, panic beginning to overtake your heart. “Childe—Ajax—he’s going to notice! I—I’ll get in trouble, and—”

“Shh,” Kaeya whispers, trying to calm you down with a kiss, but you pull back before his lips can touch you. “It’s not—”

“Put it back. Put it back!”

You've turned around and are about to hit Diluc when the man grips both your wrists, holding you with such a force that it freezes you. The look in his eyes is fierce, fiery, red eyes shining brighter than the rubies dangling off your neck—and for a single second, you can’t help but think that the man looks furious. 

Then, the expression is masked, and you’re both left calmer for it.

“Tartaglia won’t notice. Unless he makes a habit of regularly counting what’s on your neck, only you’ll be able to feel the difference.” Right. That makes sense. Childe likes to look at your necklace, but you doubt that he’ll actually know how many presents he’s gifted you. Not when he barely touches the thing, dexterous fingers always reaching out to feel your body instead. 

“And besides,” Diluc says, easing you back into your earlier position with your back resting against his chest. “It’s a promise. The two diamonds.”

“A promise?”

In front of you, Kaeya smiles in understanding.

“Right. It’s a promise, baby. We’ll give you these two diamonds back once we’ve freed you, and until then, they’re our weight to bear so that every time we look at them, we remember that we’re waiting for you so we can set you free.”

“It...is?” you ask, hesitant. You haven’t been in the outside world in a while; is this how people do promises now?

“Yes,” Diluc mumbles, kissing your ear as he strokes your hair. Every brush of his fingers against your head instinctively relaxes you, until you’re almost as calm as you were before he took two stones off your necklace. “Do you trust us to return them to you?”

It’s a disguised question.

What Diluc is really asking is this: Do you trust us?

“Yes,” you breathe. It’s the only right answer.

Then, the two men go silent. They focus on relaxing you once more, running their gloved fingers up and down the sides of your body, almost massaging your skin as you sit between them. 

Unfortunately for you, all you can think about is your necklace.

It’s the first time you’ve had it be lighter than before: Childe only ever adds to it; he never takes. Now, right when you’d grown used to the weight of the sapphire he attached this morning, you’ve got the odd situation of it being even lighter than it had been when you woke up.

You know that you should feel freer now: less chained down to Childe and to the Fatui.

But deep down inside, you miss the weight.

Minutes later, when you’re a little less emotionally overwhelmed and a little more relaxed as the two men gently run their arms around your body, another thought surfaces.

“A-also,” you say, hesitant. “Um, everything you said at the beginning of this meeting…”

“All lies,” Diluc says, pulling you closer against his broad chest after you slink too deep into Kaeya’s embrace. “Tartaglia had a negative impression of us coming in, so we had to play to that. Everything we said was just for show.”

Your shoulders sag in relief at that, but another thought continues to poke at your brain.

“And Venti?” you finally manage to ask, remembering how ruined the boy had looked as he stumbled away from the two men holding you.

“He’s a masochist,” Kaeya blurts. “We asked him beforehand if he’d be okay with participating. Not sure he realized how all-out we were going to go, but I’m certain that he enjoyed himself.”

That...makes sense! You’ve heard before about masochists, and looking back, everything Diluc and Kaeya did to the boy really did seem to be for the sake of his pleasure. You’ve heard countless times about overstimulation being something sexy, something desired, something liked by the select few who could bear it. Similarly, the way Diluc had his hand down Venti’s mouth...that’s the equivalent of Childe having you suck on his fingers during sex, right? 

You laugh a little when you realize that everything you’d been scared about had an explanation. You should have known better than to doubt Diluc and Kaeya, two people who are saving you from hell itself. If anything, you should be on your knees thanking them instead of raising questions over what they had to say to be able to help you out.

“I’m sorry for all the questions,” you confess, sheepish as Kaeya’s fingers begin toying with your breasts. “I’m just...really nervous. And a little scared.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Kaeya asks, a tinkling laugh spilling from his lips. “We were the same way when we first came out here to save people from human trafficking.”

“Really?” you ask, eyes round. “Do you guys do this for a living? How many people do you save?”

“Uh...whoever we can, really. We use our covers as human traffickers to identify targets that would be easiest for us to free. You seemed like one. Before you, we helped that boytoy from Zhongli. Before him was some Khaenri'ahi girl, and…”

Zhongli? You ask yourself, trying to figure out where you know that name from. It’s familiar, so familiar, and…

“Wait!” You blurt, sitting up straight and nearly knocking Diluc backward in the process. “You guys were responsible for freeing Xiao? The one who’s always by Zhongli’s side?”

You remember the short little man, beautiful in his own right, from when Childe had a business meeting with Zhongli. That was the first time you learned of Xiao, the last time being just last week when you heard Scaramouche say that the green-haired boy had somehow disappeared. 

Hope blooms in your heart as soon as you realize what that disappearance was: the successful removal of one more slave from the human trafficking network, something you're next in line for.

Diluc lets out a light laugh when he sees how your entire face has brightened up now that you have genuine proof that these two men are for real, that they’ve helped people escape in the past and that they’ll help you escape in the near future. 

“Wait, if you guys freed Xiao, then were you also the ones responsible for setting, uhm…”

Your brain blanks out as you try to remember the second person Scaramouche mentioned when speaking to Childe. What was her name? Amine? you think, but that sounds off. Umino? Lumina? You continue to guess names in your head, brain fixating on Childe’s interaction with the other Fatui executive until finally, you remember her name.

“Lumine!” you declare with pride. “Were you the ones who set her free, too?”

Kaeya stares at you with a shocked expression. His lips part and his face freezes, eyebrows lifted comically high on his forehead, and you turn around to glance at Diluc, but the redhead is in a similar state.

“You’re telling me,” Kaeya begins, “That Lumine...”

He can’t bring himself to finish, and so Diluc steps in to complete the question: “Lumine belonged to Tartaglia?”

You glance back and forth between the two men, unsure of why they seem to be regarding this news with such shock.

“I think so?” you say, now beginning to doubt yourself. “I’m not sure. But Scaramouche said something like that to him, so I—”

You’re cut off by a sharp cackle of laughter from Kaeya. You stare at him in shock, and then behind you, Diluc has begun chuckling, and then Kaeya’s laughing even louder, and within seconds, both men are laughing their heads off at something you barely understand. 

“Oh my gods!” Kaeya blurts between fits of almost-hysterical giggles. “You’re telling me that Tartaglia? Fucking Tartaglia? Was the one to lose Lumine?” He laughs some more, loud and merry and cheerful. "So I was right when I called you a—a—" Kaeya stutters in his laughter. "A cheap replacement?"

You stare at the blue-haired man in confusion, not understanding a word of what he's saying nor why he seems to find it so hilarious that Childe and Lumine are connected. You want to open your mouth to ask why, but you have to stop yourself because it's at this precise moment that your owner returns; and this is the picture that Childe sees when the elevator dings with the announcement of his arrival: you, completely nude and squashed between the two Mondstadt business partners, Kaeya in front of you, laughing his ass off as if you’ve told the joke of the century, and Diluc behind you, the most stoic man in the room losing his composure in an equally graceless manner.

“What the fuck…” your owner mutters at the sight, but seeing Childe only makes the two men around you laugh harder.

It takes a full minute for them to calm down, and in that minute, you rise from their couch and move back towards Childe like an obedient slave, only wearing your clothes when Childe nods at you that it’s okay for you to do so.

“So,” Childe deadpans once Diluc and Kaeya have finally stopped laughing, though Kaeya still releases a giggle every now and then. “Did my girl tell a funny joke or something? You guys sounded like a bunch of dying hyenas.”

“Something like that,” Kaeya says, smiling at Childe, but you sense something deadly in his eyes. 

“Alright, well…” Childe awkwardly tries to steer the conversation back to what they’d been discussing before. “I guess the final details will have to be ironed out once I actually use this company as a cover to ship the girls to you, but is there anything else we need to talk about? Transportation-wise, we seem solid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kaeya drawls, a strange smile on his face. “But, real quick, I want to talk about prices one more time.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Childe grunts, annoyed. “We already agreed on five-hundred thousand mora per shipment. Don’t try to haggle with me again on this.”

“Ordinarily, you’d be right,” Diluc says, crossing his arms. “But we just learned some interesting information.”

Childe’s eye twitches in annoyance. “Right,” he blurts, leaning back. “What is it? Did you find out that I’m giving a better deal to someone else? Because that sucks, but that’s how this business works with new partners. I’m not going to—”

“It’s not that,” Diluc interrupts, lifting a hand. “It’s moreso that before, we thought we were purchasing merchandise from a valued, respected dealer.”

Diluc’s lips quirk into a cruel grin. 

“Not from the infamous idiot trafficker who lost Lumine.”

You can hear the ice settle over the room before you feel it, the abrupt, chilling silence suddenly making every second feel like an hour. You’re almost scared to move, scared to pull your eyes to your owner who, for the first time since you met him, looks like the child his codename was assigned for.

Childe doesn’t try to speak, but his every thought is displayed in his eyes alone, the cerulean blues giving insight to a hurricane of emotions wilder than the sea. In his eyes is fear, horror, despair, and pain, so much pain. 

Something about the look on his face makes your heart break.

Diluc and Kaeya don’t care.

“I think charging five hundred thousand mora is a tad much for a douche who almost brought the entire industry down. Hell, you should be paying us for even being willing to deal with you, but…” Kaeya glances at Diluc, a single blue eye flitting down to where Diluc extends three fingers against his knee. “We’ll settle for a drop in the price instead. Three-hundred thousand mora per shipment. That good with you, Tartaglia?”

You’re expecting your owner to bargain, to argue, to scoff, to do something other than stare into the distance with those bright blue eyes that now look more blank than anything else. 

When you hear Childe mutter a meek “Okay,” you nearly recoil in shock.

Even Kaeya is surprised. “R-really? Damn. Actually, I think we should go even lower, y’know? Every trafficker in the world was scared for their life because of you, so maybe drop the price some more as reparations for that? Whaddya say, two hundred thousand? Per shipment?”

You stare at your owner, silently begging him to do something. Even you can tell that he’s being taken advantage of now, and that awful look in his eyes is something that even you’re unfamiliar with.

“Okay.”

“Fu...okay then? But also, you were kind of a dick to us last time, so how about you make it one hundred thousand? Seems more fair to me.”

“O—”

You grab your owner’s hand before he can agree, and the touch seems to snap Childe out of the awful fog that had been wrapped around his head. The look in his eyes is only less marginally troubled when he abruptly stands up, gripping your hand in a silent plea for you to move with him.

“I’m going,” Childe announces. 

He begins walking away so fast that you just barely have time to grab your jacket before you’re at his heels.

The man completely ignores Diluc and Kaeya as he waits for the elevator to open with a rigid posture, seeming to feel uncomfortable or fearful or panicked or a mix of all three. Kaeya begins laughing behind you both, and you almost want to tell him to stop: tell him that yes, Childe is an awful human trafficker and yes, you hate him as well—but the poor man looks like he’s on the verge of having a panic attack, and you know first-hand how awful a feeling that is. 

You’re grateful when the elevator finally opens, more grateful when the doors close and you and Childe are finally in isolation together. 

Only then, in the silence of the box as it moves you both down to the ground floor, do you hear Childe’s shaky breathing. It’s jagged, uneven. Then, you take note of the way his hands are clenched into fists, palms enclosed so tight that his arms are shaking—and despite everything he’s done to you, you feel some semblance of pity for him.

“Ajax,” you mumble, hoping that the name will calm him. “Relax.”

A moment of silence.

“I am relaxed,” he responds, and when you glance over at him, he’s completely back to normal: breathing even and palms loose.

His eyes, though, are just as pained as when the two of you were sitting upstairs on that couch. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re the one who let it slip that Lumine and Childe were connected. Even if you don’t understand the scope of what you said, it's clear that it had an impact. “I didn’t—”

“It’s not your fault,” Childe says, not looking at you. “Don’t apologize.”

More silence. It feels heavy, unlike the usual, comfortable stretches of quiet that you and Childe like to bask in.

“What...were they talking about?” you ask quietly, still staring at your owner. “Diluc and Kaeya said that—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

A moment of silence.

It feels so heavy that it seems to crush you under its weight.

“Who is she? Lumine?”

More silence. 

This time, Childe is the one to break it. 

“The only girl I ever loved before you.”

That’s a lie, and you know it. If Childe loved you, he wouldn’t be bringing you around to meetings, dressing you like a cheap slave, and handing you off to other men to flex how ‘high-quality’ you are. If Childe loved you, you would be long gone from the human trafficking circuit because he would have set you free. If Childe loved you, he wouldn’t force you to stay by his side because he’s your abuser, your trafficker, the monster that haunts your life. 

Most importantly, if Childe loved you, he would have given you a proper answer to your question. Not some flimsy skirt-around that only furthers his attempts to manipulate you into loving him back.

Your eyebrows furrow the slightest as you feel the elevator hit the ground floor, brain still focused on everything Diluc and Kaeya said. Everything Childe didn’t want to talk about. Lumine.

Curiosity begs you to stick around and learn the truth.

Logic, reasoning, and the desire to lead a life of your own tell you that you’ll be long gone from Snezhnaya before that’ll ever happen. 

MASTERLIST

Fastened | Unlockable | Lighter | Breaking | Broken | Gone | ✔

Word count: 7.9k

Notes: eyyyy i'm alive! i promise i never forgot about this fic, it's just that after i missed the original due date, my mind was just like 'eh, it's already late, what's a few more days?' and that's the story of how this is two months late. thank you to all the kind commenters from the last chapter - to the people who checked in on me, ily; to the people who sent me those wholesome asks on tumblr, ily ily; and to the people who made guesses on what would happen in future chapters - guess what :D you acc helped me shape this :3 i originally meant for lumine to be a passing thing mentioned once and never again, but she'll end up being important for chapter 4 ^^ so thank you to everyone who'll still be here after i disappeared for so long. hope you liked this chapter (lmk your thoughts!) and i can't wait to see you all in the finale <3

Comment & Like

Next Update: 6/11

I do not own the rights to Genshin Impact or any of the characters within it.

[nn1895]

AU August Fic 3

Country Side

“Prowl, this is what people do in the countryside,” Carrier explained.  “We visit our neighbors and exchange gossip.  That’s it.  So, unless you want to sit in this house and -”

“Yes, thank you.”  Prowl spun around and retreated back to the guest room.

“Ugh!” He saw Carrier throwing up his servos behind him, in the reflection of one of the many, many chrome decorations.

Prowl had been living with his Carrier for six months and he was already going mad.  If he had to recharge to the sound of scurrying turbofoxes and buzzing diodeflies for one more night, he’d bash his own helm in.

He’d been persuaded -threatened - to give up his small apartment in the city, right above the armory Enforcers’ armory after they had put him on indefinite leave.

He had heard of disgraced nobility being banished to the country for crimes that average bots would go to prison for.  As a child, every time they visited their country estate there was at least one “they’re staying with us while they sort all that mess out in Vos/Iacon/Polyhex” at every party.  His creators always made sure he was never left alone with them.

It had made watching those holiday specials where an overworked city bot learned all about the joys of simply country living awkward.  Strongarm and Ultra Magnus had devoured those quietly during every Lost Sparks Day season.

He had not expected to be sent to the country for protesting a training.

The “Frame Protection Act” was functionalist propaganda that would lead to more crime, more murders, and more suicides.  Prowl had run his tactical computer at its highest setting (and given himself a three day migraine) in order to get the most accurate predictions.

He has presented them at the beginning of the week and by the end he had been pseudo-fired and his carrier was sending for him.

He missed the clink of the armory guard cleaning the rail guns and the explosion when he accidentally shot a hole in the wall.

0-0-0

“There will be crystals - you like crystals!”

There will be people. I hate people.”

“One, that’s a lie, two, there will be far more crystals than people.  You don’t have to talk to them, just get a cube and wander the gardens.  You can pretend to be all mysterious-“

“I don’t- “

“- brood a bit and then we can go home.”

Prowl opened his mouth to argue and then the kitchen timer dinged.

“The jellies!”  Carrier tripped over the ornately carved floor - very old-credit country home chic - and raced towards the kitchen.

Prowl walked over and slumped onto the entryway couch.  He stared down at the floor.  Following the old style of interlocking squares, it was deeply and intricately carved.  The deeper the carving, the deeper the expensive flooring would have to be.  It was a tripping risk and very difficult and time consuming to clean.

It would be horrible for any bot who used wheels or had stilt legs instead of pedes.  Smaller bots - mini-bots, symbiotes, the microbots that lived in the Archives of Iacon - would need to be carried across most of it or their pedes would be stuck.

In the country, even the slagging floor was functionalist.

0-0-0

There was a knock on the door.  Prowl stood up.  Maybe it was a criminal come to murder him to get him out of the garden party.  That would be helpful.

Carrier was still packing up the jellies and their best high-grade into baskets because apparently just carrying them was a faux-pas.

He swung the door open.

“So sorry, but we’re about to leave - “

“I know.  I’m ya ride, sweetspark.”

The mech in front of him looked so out of place Prowl’s processor skirted the edge of a crash for a brief moment.

His paint was flat and stark.  There were no contrasting or complimenting flecks or glitter.  The black and white were generic.  He ran the blue and red as well and both came back as triple zero series paints - the basic colors every shop had for mixing custom colors.  Instead of making him look cheap, he looked clean and fresh.  His curves glinted in the fading afternoon light.  His curves -  He looked like poetry.  He sounded like poetry.  His visor was tinted blue - just blue.  It matched his optics.  His very pretty optics.

Prowl had been standing in the doorway for five kilks, just staring.  

“Hello,” he choked out, servo gripping the door tightly.  “Who are you?”

The mech put a servo on his hip and grinned.

“Me?  I’m Jazz, love.  Ya must be Prowl, down from Praxus for the season.”

“I - yes, I am Prowl.”  He fumbled for something cool or interesting to say - anything!  Bots this beautiful didn’t turn up on his doorstep very often - or ever - he needed to do something impressive.

His processor was blank.

“Heard - a little cyberhawk tol’ me - that ya opposed the Frame Protection Act.  Tha’ true?”

Prowl nodded.

“I - “

“Prowl!  Hurry and take this basket!  Our ride should be - oh, hello!”  Carrier was shoving a large silver woven basket into his arms, squeezing around him.  “You must be the singer everyone’s been talking about!  You’re staying at the Rubidium Cottage, yes?  I’m looking forward to your performance tomorrow night at Flashfire’s ball!”  He held out his servo and Jazz took it with a smile.

“That’ll be me,” Jazz said.  The grin he’d given Prowl was gone.  This smile looked…professional, false.  “I’m here to escort ya both to the party and carry anything ya need me ta.”

“Oh that’s perfect!  Prowl, you can go with Jazz and he can carry the Vosian Ale -” Carrier was shoving a similar sized basket into Jazz’s arms, “ - and I’ll stay here and put in another tray of baked jellies to replace the ones that burned!  I’ll see you both there!”

Then Carrier was gone and he was left standing across from a gorgeous mech holding a picnic basket.

“We’ll talk ‘n drive,” Jazz said, nodding his helm toward the path back to the main road.  “I wanna hear more about ya, Officer Prowl.”

0-0-0

“- and even if the statistics didn’t indicate it would be putting such a high number of sparklings and youngling at risk, the law is unethical.  It is dangerous.  It increases the pressure on non-standard frame types and prevents bots with standard frames from fully understanding the situation.  Without a solid grounding, bots will be more easily misled by outdated functionalist ideals and propaganda.”

Jazz had politely asked about Prowl’s thoughts on the new Act.  Prowl was halfway through his rant, complete with references.

They had only been driving for five minutes.

“Ah, but what about all the bots that the Act protects?” Jazz asked, his amusement coming through the comms clearly.  “We don’t want standard frame sparklings feeling guilty or having uncomfortable questions -”

“They didn’t!  They never have!  At no point has the Senate or any of the governors been able to produce ANY statistics on that nor were they able to prove that it was harmful.  The statistics - which educators have been collecting for four generations with double-blind studies and longitudinal studies - indicate that mixed frame type classrooms have lower instances of bullying, lower instances of depression, AND HIGHER SCORES!  They score HIGHER on the tests!  All of them!”

“Careful, sweetspark, ya wanna slow down on these country roads,” Jazz said, driving closer to push him away from a pothole in the middle. 

 Prowl slowed down.  

“I usually go to the Station racetrack when I’m angry,” he confessed.  “But there is nowhere out here to safely race.”  Well, maybe it was more than anger making his frame heat.

“Oh, there’s a couple a’ places.”

Prowl revved his engine.  “I said safe places.  I know all about those back country roads with their twists and hazards and mud.”

Jazz laughed.  Prowl would really like to keep making him laugh.  Possibly forever.

“And you?  What is your opinion on the Act?”  Prowl had a guess, but he was curious to hear what Jazz said.

He was silent for a moment as they drove.  Prowl took the time to admire the patterns the light cast on Jazz’s altmode as it cascaded through the aluminum trees’ branches.

“I look standard,” he said at last.  “I can pass.  But it ain’t right.  Don’ wan’ the non-standard bitlets ta be scared.  I wouldn’t trade my friends - the ones tha’ can’t pass - for the world.  Don’ wan’ some other bitlet missing out jus’ ‘cause the grown ups won’ teach ‘em right.”

They let the silence fall between them as they drove.

0-0-0

The party was just as horrible as Prowl had predicted.  Many bots who had questions about living in “the city” as if it was on the other side of the planet instead of two days drive.

Two other bots asked him about the Act - news traveled fast in the country where every day brought a new teatime visit and new gossip - but both regretted it.  They’d clearly been under the impression that Prowl was a poor youngling, misguided by the big city.  Neither of them lasted past the first three bullet points of his rant, quickly making excuses and hurrying away.

Prowl counted it as a win.  His Carrier at his side pretended not to hear any of it.

In such a small community, grievances cut more deeply.  Once he left, they would all politely pretend that he hadn’t verbally ripped those bots apart.  They would ask Carrier about him and pretend to be overjoyed at whatever news he gave.

Reason number 438 why he hated the country.

The only part he was enjoying - besides the crystal which were stunning - was watching Jazz move through the crowds.

They were all clustered on the tin grass lawn in front of the house.  To his left was the entrance to the formal gardens, but there were small sprays of crystal lining the walkway and the along the edges of the house.

Jazz fluttered from group to group, changing his manners with each one.  With the elderly group of bots sitting by the buffet table he was charming and gentile.  Every movement was grace.  He moved over to what his Carrier called “idiots with guns” and he stood straighter, laughed louder and more obnoxiously.  He touched the other bots more - slapped a squat femme on the shoulder and laughed at her joke - and stood closer.

With the sparklings he became a sparkling and it got Prowl right in the center of his spark.

Prowl stuffed more baked jellies into his mouth and pretended to be studying the large Malachite by the garden entrance so on one would try talking to him.

A little while later, Jazz sidled over, one servo cradling a cube, the other swinging freely instead of behind, held stiffly behind his back, as was proper.  He smiled at Prowl as he got closer.

“Hello, Jazz.”  Jazz stood next to him and surveyed the party.  He took a sip of the cube.

“Hey, so, ya wanna sneak off and make out in the gardens?”

It was said so casually that it took Prowl an extra .023 kliks to process it.

“Oh, Primus, yes,” he growled.  Jazz stifled a laugh, but his optics danced and flickered behind his visor.

“Awesome.  I’ll go ‘n make our excuses ta the host - can’t wait ta see how the peridot has grown, oh the rose quartz is so pretty, blah blah.  Be righ’ back.”  He handed Prowl his cube and made his way over to the largest gossiping group as quickly as he could without drawing attention.

Prowl lifted the cube to his mouth automatically and then stopped.  It wasn’t his.  But….

He took a sip anyway.  It felt more intimate than half the interfacing he’d done in the past ten vorns.  He caught Jazz looking back at him as he spoke, servos fluttering through the air as he explained their leaving to the host.

Jazz smirked.

Prowl’s chest heated as his spark spun faster.

[writing-in-april]

Occupied

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer and Reader get caught by one of their co workers in a bar bathroom after Reader couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.

A/N: This is the 1st of my 7 fics 7 days in a row for my 500 follower celebration! Thanks again for 500! Here’s another smut that’s in a clandestine spot lmao this’ll be my second public smut in a row plus I have one more already written that’s coming in like two weeks😂 Thanks to @imagining-in-the-margins who helped me get the ball rolling early on with dialogue and @definitelynotkatesblog for the original prompt!

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, Public sex, Unintentional edging, Humilation, Getting caught, Derek being Derek, Established relationship

Masterlist Word count: 1.5k

Sneaking off to go fuck your boyfriend in a bathroom at a bar was a little sleazy but, I had been desperate all day to find some alone time. The team had just finished a grueling case and I wanted nothing more than to order Spencer to rail me into next week. However, my plans had been dashed by Emily who had suggested we all go out to a bar to release the tension of the week before flying home in the morning.

We were all sitting in a booth at the bar that was a little too small to fit all of us and as a result I was practically sitting on Spencer’s lap, which was not helping my desperation at all in the slightest. Every so often he’d shift underneath me whether to get more comfortable or to pick up the Arnold Palmer he had been casually drinking. Each time he shifted I felt my panties dampen just a little more. This was tortuous.

My moment of opportunity came to me when Spencer lifted me off of his lap and said he was going to the bathroom. The bathroom doors were just hidden out of view from the table, so if I got up as well to go ‘to the bathroom’ no one would know if I followed in after him or dragged him into the woman’s bathroom. I quickly excused myself from the table as well after waiting a small amount of time to not arouse suspicion.

Normally, I’d choose the latter and pull him into the woman’s bathroom as it's universally known that they’re nicer. But, I had to switch to plan B when I saw that the ladies room was crowded with people.

I quickly checked my surroundings before slipping into the guy restroom. When I entered it was completely deserted besides Spencer, who was washing his hands at the sink. When he looked up into the mirror and spotted me behind him he spun around quickly with his eyebrows raised. I didn’t give him any time to respond before pulling him into the nearest stall.

“Y/N?! What are you doing?” He squeaked loudly as I reached forward to palm him through his slacks while reaching behind me to lock the stall door, I didn’t want to take my eyes off of him.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Now fuck me.” I said before slipping my shirt over my head revealing my bare chest to him. I sensed some hesitation from him, maybe because we had never done something so clandestine this close to our coworkers before. “Please… It’s not like we haven’t done something like this before.” A switch must have flipped in Spencer at my reference to our last dalliance that we had had in a risky location (That had happened at a park).

“You better keep quiet unless you want our coworkers to hear how desperate you are.” He said with venom in his voice while pulling up my skirt, dipping his hand immediately underneath my panties to run teasing circles on my clit and enveloping me into a harsh kiss. Pleasure started to overtake me, loving the way that he had suddenly ripped any sort of dominance of the situation from out of my fingers, but it wasn’t enough to get me anywhere near the edge of an orgasm. I whined in frustration at his antics so he tried to move his fingers away from my clit to finger me. Instead of letting him I bat his hand away, I was more desperate for something else, “I’m already wet enough I promise- just hurry up.” He looked a little irritated at the fact that I gave him an order but still obliged me by quickly freeing his cock. His pants were only opened just enough to free him but it still gave me a good look at his hard cock that did wonders to me. He hooked one of my legs around my waist and started to tease his cock between my folds. I whined pathetically once it had gone on too long for my tastes which he let out an annoyed grunt in reply.

Then with no warning he pushed into me, filling me swiftly all the way to the hilt. Pure euphoria coursed through my veins when he immediately started thrusting giving me no time to adjust to his considerable size. Even though we slept together quite often and had a healthy sex life, every time his size still took some getting used too.

He started to whisper into my ear about how pretty I looked for him when I was desperate and all I could come up with as a response was a high pitched Yes that was probably way too loud. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth to try and muffle any other sounds that tried to escape while Spencer started to nip at my collarbone to stifle his somewhat now unable to say anything else into my ear because of the pleasure he was receiving.

The way that Spencer then pitched his hips in conjunction with the tight circles he started to rub into my clit again my release was hurtling toward me faster than I ever thought possible. My legs were shaking violently and if he hadn’t been there to partially prop me up I’d have probably melted into a puddle onto the floor. Though, unfortunately the sweet feeling of euphoria I was headed towards was dashed away just by a few words.

“I’m pretty sure the bathroom stall you’re in is supposed to have a maximum occupancy of one.” Suddenly was said loudly cutting right through the breathy moans from the two of us, we both immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Derek. Spencer let out a high pitched squeak and then froze up like a statue as soon as he had heard the voice reverting back to the shy Spencer we were all used to. The both of us hadn’t even heard the door open to caught up in our personal pleasure.

“That’s very ableist of you Derek.” My sudden nonchalant response came after a brief pause to Derek walking in on the two of us seemed to embarrass Spencer as his face had turned a dark shade of red. I moved my hands from Spencer’s shoulders into his hair to try and soothe his embarrassment. Though, I still decided to give Derek one last quip before shooing him out of the bathroom. I had been so close to finishing plus he had embarrassed poor Spencer, he could deal with some embarrassment himself from my words.“Sometimes you need two people. Right now was not one of those times but, you wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t heard me.”

I must have stunned Derek into silence because for a good 30 seconds there was silence on his end. Though, I never really ended up getting a full response from him. Instead, he gave us what could only be described as a mortified slash apologetic grunt; then leaving the room quickly afterwards not even bothering to care if the door slammed hard on the way out. I don’t think he was expecting that response from me.

Getting redressed took almost no time seeing as the only article of clothing either of us had removed was my top. In the hopes of Derek keeping his mouth shut Spencer and I decided to walk out separately. I paced in the small stall as much as I could in the small space while waiting for my turn to leave, hoping that no one would come in here or see me leave, but most importantly that Derek didn’t say anything.

“Well you took a long time.” Emily remarked slyly to me once I had slowly walked back before lowering her voice and continuing.”I’m assuming when Derek went to see where you to had gotten too he got an eyeful”

I flashed Derek a harsh gaze, assuming he had told everyone at the table. Though, I dropped it once Emily quietly pointed out to the hickey that had sprouted on my collarbone. However, my annoyance had not abated, my clit was throbbing, begging for attention after it had been cruelly toyed with

I was sure the teasing would all come tomorrow on the plane once Derek got over his residual embarrassment and everyone wasn’t so buzzed. I gritted my teeth in frustration, if I hadn’t been desperate before I sure was now after having my release stolen from me. Though, I was even more frustrated that Spencer seemed to be doing just fine. Throughout the rest of the night all I could think about was what Spencer could do to me when we finally got back to our hotel room. I wish Hotch had let us take an extra car so I didn’t have to wait. When we finally got in the car to drive back I was vibrating with anticipation all over again I couldn’t wait until we found someplace that was less occupied.

[thran-duils]

My Perfect Pet

Title: My Perfect Pet Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Boss Tony Stark. Reader disobeys Mr. Stark’s order to work in his office and learns her lesson for disobeying when he tells her to do something. Words: 2,303 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Dom/sub, fingering, shameless smut, boss/employee relationship, punishment, office sex Author’s Note: I had a dream, alright? I got distracted from the other fics because of it.

Masterpost (mobile)

You walked into one of the old filing rooms where one of the old assistants was already working to scan old documents in. A whole archive had been discovered recently and they needed all of the papers uploaded onto the Stark database.

Aeisha looked up when you walked in and cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I thought Abby was going to be down here with me.”

“She really wanted to be around and in Mr. Stark’s office.”

When you had arrived this morning, the head security told you where you were supposed to be. Mr. Stark gave orders at the beginning of the day where all of you were supposed to be and he had wanted you assisting him today. But Abby had complained to you, pouting. You figured it was not a big deal and told her you would take her job down in the filing room instead. She had been ecstatic.

The other girl snorted and said, “Of course she does. She’s been trying to get him to fuck her for months.”

You stammered, “W-what?”

“He has his favorites. She wants to be one of them.” She held up her phone, the newest version, and smirked, “He gives good gifts to keep us away from HR. Not that I would ever consider that.”

“You… have sex with him?”

Aeisha shrugged, “When he wants. It’s not often. In between the ladies at his parties and some other girls in the building, there’s time in between.” She saw the look on your face and gave a hearty laugh. “He’s good in bed. Don’t worry. When I said I wouldn’t consider going to HR, I mean it. That man knows how to work my pussy.”

‘That’s not what I’m worried about,” you muttered, opening one of the boxes. ‘I didn’t know I was gonna have to potentially fuck my boss if he ever gets a wild hair. Wasn’t in the job description. Sure, he’s extremely attractive – sexy – but, Jesus. That’s asking for issues if you ever wanna be in a relationship with someone and he’s still expecting it. Maybe I should be thanking Abby for taking his office today.”

Aeisha closed the scanner and shot you a curious look. “Wait… did you clear that switch with him?”

You shook your head and she rose her eyebrows, looking concerned.

“What?”’ you asked worriedly. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal. We are both gonna do the same thing no matter where we are at.”

“He wanted to see you in there, Y/N. He’s very specific about his instructions.”

Your stomach did a flip flop and you asked worriedly, “Am I going to get in trouble?”

Aeisha shrugged, “Who knows? If he hasn’t sent Abby back down here in the next twenty minutes, maybe it’ll just slide.”

You did not want to lose this job; it was well paying, especially for NYC.

“I guess I’ll just… go up there if she gets put back down here,” you said slowly, thumbing through the files.

You picked some of the papers up and asked Aeisha where she was filing the paperwork before going to your own scanner. You kept tensing whenever you heard someone walk by, thinking it was Abby coming down to fetch you and make you go upstairs where Mr. Stark wanted to see you. It was customary for you to wear pencil line skirts and low-cut shirts with heels, something that had been encouraged by the hiring manager. And you learned quickly it was just the norm with all of the assistants. Thankfully, you had already had a good enough collection started with going out wear that was easily masked as office wear. Such as the bodycon dress you were wearing today, the long zipper up the back that you had had to have your roommate help you with. But now you wondered if maybe you should cut back on it a little bit, knowing what you did now.

Shaking your head, you pushed the thoughts of your mind, focusing on your work.

<><><>

It was almost 9:00pm when you were walking back from the filing room. You told your immediate supervisor that you would take a few more hours today to be able to get off early tomorrow for your appointment tomorrow afternoon a few weeks ago.

You stopped though outside Mr. Stark’s office, hearing noises coming from within. You furrowed your brow confused considering how late it was. You put your hand on the door, your ear coming closer. Someone yelped loudly inside and you threw the door open in alarm, thinking someone was getting hurt.

Upon seeing Mr. Stark being straddled by a naked woman and another kissing him beside them on the couch, you almost vomited in embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. I thought—goodnight!” you stammered, closing the door clumsily and rushing off.

<><><>

You were not surprised in the slightest when you arrived the next morning that Mr. Stark wanted you in his office. Reluctantly, you walked to the door and knocked. He called from inside and you took a deep breath, your heart hammering. All you could see was them on the couch last night and feel your mortification that had kept you up half the night.

He was working off to the side of his desk with a hologram table, his back to you. He was wearing a three-piece suit as usual, sans the jacket, all black.

You did not know what to say – if you should say anything too – so you just stood there awkwardly until he sensed the awkwardness too and turned around. You did not miss the slight smirk that graced his lips at the sight of you.

“Mhm, Y/N. Good morning,” he greeted you, closing the hologram and turning around to stride back to his desk.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” you managed to say.

He sat on the edge of the desk, running his eyes over you. You had chosen a mid-thigh dress, still showing leg but the top was long sleeved, no cleavage.

You blurted becoming uncomfortable with the silence, “I really am sorry.”

“For?” he questioned.

That caught you off guard and you stammered, “U-uh. Last night?”

“Oh, that,” Tony chuckled. “I didn’t know anyone was still on the floor. Quite a surprise to see you. Did throw the vibe off a bit, took me out of my element, really.” He cleared his throat and said, “As a matter of fact, thank you for apologizing because the sex really wasn’t as great as it was going to be if I hadn’t of seen you. Because it just reminded me of earlier in the day when I was expecting to see you when I came in the morning and I was severely annoyed when it wasn’t you. So, I was just a little irked during the whole threesome.”

He snickered seeing you at loss for words. “Well, I figure you can make it up to me. We can break in the couch. Just you and me.”

A strangled noise left your throat. “What?”

“Did I stammer? You disobeyed what I asked yesterday. I was gonna let it slide and give you a chance to make it right next time – aka this morning when I requested you again to be in here. I like my assistants in the building to follow directions specifically how I ask them. But then, you came in and interrupted when I was about to plow two of the hottest models on the market right now and threw off my vibe.”

That sounded so ridiculous, you said before you could stop yourself, “You still had sex with them.”

His eyes crinkled with his dangerous smile. “That’s cheeky. You are very determined to get me even more riled up, aren’t you? I didn’t mark you as bratty. Everyone’s got their surprises though...”

He stood up from the desk and you fought to stand your ground, your hands still folded in front of you. His eyes were searching hungrily, eyeing you up like a piece of meat.

“You’re definitely not a top rider like Vivian or Aeisha. They love sitting in my lap… reverse cowgirl…” Heat came to your cheeks as he ran his eyes over you again, lingering on your legs. A wicked smirk came to his face as he met your gaze again. “No. That’s not you. Not at all. You’re a perfect candidate for training.”

Training…?

“In fact, we can have your first lesson now. Lock the door.”

“Mr. Stark—”

He sat on the couch and said, “Do you remember me just saying that I like my assistants to listen? And follow directions just as they’re told? This is your chance to do that. So, impress me, sweetheart. Or leave the building and don’t come back. I’ll have someone mail your check or direct deposit. Whatever the hell you have set up.”

You stared at him in bewilderment, and he was staring back, a hard look in his eyes. He was not messing around. Swallowing sharply, you turned on your heel and went to the door, sliding the lock into place. You turned around, your heart thumping.

“Take your dress off. Put this blindfold on,” he ordered, reaching for the piece of cloth on the table. You had failed to notice it sitting there before; he had already had this on his mind before you had come in apparently. “And get over my knee.”

Mortified, you took a step back towards the door and his eyes flashed at the movement.

“What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?”

You had a choice, really you did. You could find other work, but you did not want to. Sucking down a deep breath, you walked over towards him. He reached forward again and grabbed a small remote, clicking it. The large TV turned on at the end of the office and he turned on a random show, turning the volume up.

Your dress fell to your ankles and you stepped out of it. There was a fire sparked seeing the way he was looking at you, drinking you in. But it made you extremely nervous too; what if this went sideways and you lost the job anyway?

The blindfold was waiting on his thigh and you reached for it, putting it on and laid across his lap. You could feel his length through his dress pants, causing heat to come to your core already as well. You squirmed with the anticipation.

He smacked your ass hard and you gasped loudly with the sting. His hand caressed at your ass, squeezing. “Look at that nice jiggle you had just there. You’re gonna tell me you’re sorry when this is all done and take this like an obedient girl. Right?”

“Right.”

“’Right, sir’,” Tony corrected you.

“Right, sir,” you squeaked in repeat back to him.

He hummed in approval before he smacked you again, harder this time. He yanked your underwear down and ordered you to kick them off. He helped getting them around your heels and you felt him toss them. His hand was back on your ass, squeezing and admiring. Another smack landed and then another, drawing a low groan from you.

Tony’s fingers delved past your wet folds, running up and down your sex. A finger slipped in as his thumb massaged your clit, causing you to pant in need.

“Look at you, you little wanton harlot,” Tony husked, adding another finger.

He pulled his hand away and laid another hard smack across your cheeks, leaving wetness from you.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered.

You did what he told you and you squealed when he slapped your pussy, instinctively clenching and driving your hips forward.

“Keep them open!”

Hesitantly, you did what he said, and you cried out softly when he smacked your pussy again, repeatedly. The contact was reverberating, stimulating. He was driving you insane, loving the contact on your clit from each hit. You heard him spit and his other hand came to rub at your tight ring, wet from his spit, while the other found your nub again, circling faster now. He was working you too well, it was too much pressure. You did not want to come all over him, and you clenched again, trying to stop him from touching you.

He laid a rough smack across your ass and growled, “I told you to keep your legs open!”

Whimpering, you opened your legs again to him and he praised, “Good girl. Now, are you, sorry, pet?” You nodded and he squeezed at your nub causing you to whine sharply. “Tell me!”

“I’m sorry, sir!”

“Mhm, you’re a fast learner. Such a good girl. But what are you sorry for?” he asked, his fingers picking up speed.

“Not listening to you! For interrupting you!” you panted, gripping at the couch fabric.

“Yeah, that was really naughty of you,” Tony agreed, his knuckles brushing your sex as he hit your g spot. “Very naughty.” Your breath was quick and short, and he cooed, “Sweetheart, do you need to come?”

“Yes, sir! Please!” you begged, embarrassed simultaneously how easily you had come unraveled. How easy it was for you to fall into this role.

Tony hit your spot again and you moaned pathetically. “You can let go. Come for me.”

You cried out, shaking, coming undone around his fingers. His other hand came to your throat, holding tight as he continued to stroke you, slower now as you shook with your release. He squeezed in slightly and that only added a cherry on top to your orgasm.

Empty of him, you heard him salaciously sucking on his fingers, his other hand still flexing gently on your throat, and he hummed in approval again. “I think with some more lessons, you can shape up to my perfect pet.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

[hongism]

as you wish - jaehyun smut

pairing: jaehyun x female reader

genre: ceo!jaehyun, assistant!reader, smut, absolute filth guys

word count: 3544

warnings: daddy kink, semi-public smut, choking, thigh riding, facefucking, deepthroating, throat bulging, oral sex: male receiving, oral: female receiving, sir kink, size kink, unprotecc sex, cum eating, cum swallowing, creampie, fingering, filth, absolute filth, fucking filth y'all, corruption kink, overuse of baby girl and princess, possessive!jaehyun, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, teasing, breast play, nipple play, pussy slapping, overstimulation, praise, basically both have a pain kink, reader cries bc jaehyun's big dick is that good, this is not a proper boss assistant relationship like y'all no, but do i care? fuck that no I don't, yes this is kick it jaehyun, no don't come for me jfc this warning list is LONG

summary: maybe you and your boss don't have the most professional relationship, but he's so good at fucking you that you don't think twice about it.

a/n: ...don't ask. this is gratuitous smut and absolute filth and I have zero shame, so don't ask pls this is for @parksfilter​ @franklytae​ and myself. also thank you dearest fram for this sexy ass banner :3

…

...

“Sir? Your 4 o’clock appointment came by early.” You step into the dimly lit office to find your boss sitting behind his desk, as usual, eyes glued to his computer even as you speak. “Mr. Jung,” you speak a bit louder in hopes of catching his attention. Sure enough the man glances up at you, dark eyes finding yours as he looks at you over the rim of his glasses.

“Yes, Miss L/N?”

“Your 4 o’clock.”

“It’s 3:36, Miss L/N. Not 4 o’clock. You’re early. As is my client.”

“Well sir, Mr. Kim asked me to remind you that you were rather late to the last meeting.” You grin at your boss, teeth shining through the smile. His lips quirk into a small smile. “So, Jaehyun, who’s fault was that?”

“Yours actually, Y/N. Someone was taking her sweet time… taking care of business. Go tell Mr. Kim that I will see him at 4 o’clock and no sooner.” Jaehyun pushes his chair back from the desk, eyes still not leaving yours, and steps around the side of the wood. His fingers run along the surface. He barely traces it, a delicate touch that makes you think of less than holy things. “I meant now, Miss L/N. I only have 21 minutes to conduct certain business with you.”

“Of course, Mr. Jung. I’ll be back shortly.” You turn on your heel, spinning to face the door, and step out with haste. Jaehyun’s eyes follow you as you go, you can feel the heat of his gaze on your backside. The door clicks shut behind you though and blocks the feel of his eyes for the time being. “Mr. Kim!” You greet with a wide grin. Said man’s eyes flit up to yours as you smile down at the place where he awaits you.

“Is Jaehyun ready for me?”

“No, actually. He asked that we wait until 4 o’clock precisely. He has a bit of paperwork that needs to be concluded before your meeting if that’s alright?”

“I thought you were supposed to mention his previous–”

“I did, but as you know, I answer to my boss’s orders only. I’ll come back to bring you in at 4 o’clock, Mr. Kim.”

“Ah, I see, Miss. As you wish.” The man sitting before you nods his head once at you.

“Actually sir, it’s as Mr. Jung wishes, but I’ll pass on the message.”

Your heels click against the hard floor as you walk away from the businessman. A smile still plays at your lips because you know what’s waiting for you behind your boss’ door. You don’t bother knocking before stepping back into his office. One hand trails over the dark wood, slipping over the lock and twisting it to the right, then you turn to face Jaehyun.

“Miss L/N, what did my client say?” He asks from his place in front of his desk. The suit fits him too well, and you see that now that he’s standing before you in full glory like this.

“As you wish, Mr. Jung.” You walk towards the man, hand on your collar, and pop the top three buttons of your blouse open.

“Hmm, I quite like the sound of that, Miss L/N.” He reaches out to snatch you by the waist. “Wearing a red number under a white shirt is a bit risky, don’t you think?”

“Do you think so? Maybe you’ll have to punish me for it then… sir.” Jaehyun’s hand trails up from your waist, delicate touch brushing the valley between your breasts. Goosebumps rise across your skin as he touches you. He hums at the sight, lips quirking into a small smirk at the same time, then glances up to your face before speaking again.

“Something tells me you’d like to be punished though, princess.” You roll your eyes at the comment. Stopping your gaze on the wall over to your right, you check the clock.

“19 minutes, Jaehyun.”

“Careful with that mouth, princess, or I’ll just go ahead and cancel the meeting altogether.” Jaehyun leans forward to press his warm lips against the column of your neck.

“You wouldn’t,” you whisper before letting your head fall back under Jaehyun’s ministrations. He chuckles against your skin. It sends ripples of pleasure through you, and you are forced to bite back the moan threatening to climb out of your mouth.

“As you wish,” he mutters back before leaning away from you. Twisting, you try to pull away from the man, but he locks you in place with his thighs, squeezing you between them before you can step back. He turns to his phone and taps away at some buttons while keeping one hand firmly on your waist. “Mr. Kim! Yes, yes, it’s Jaehyun. I hate to do this so last minute, but we had some paperwork complications come up just now. Would we be able to push the meeting to 5 o’clock? Yes? Wonderful. Again, I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” The call ends a moment later, and Jaehyun returns to smirking at you.

“I cannot believe you,” you hiss out. Your boss merely laughs. One hand slips between your legs to push them apart. The tight material of your skirt stops him from continuing the motion. You have to smile at the almost annoyed gleam that crosses Jaehyun’s eyes as he realizes the obstruction; however, it doesn’t last long because he pushes the material up over your thighs and ass for better access. You sink down onto Jaehyun’s thick muscled thigh before you know it.

“I have a lot of paperwork to attend to since my assistant got snippy.” Jaehyun’s teeth drag across his lower lip. He rocks his thigh upward. Pressure hits your clit, bringing a sharp wave of pleasure over you, and you grab him by the shoulders to stabilize yourself. “Fuck yourself against my thigh, baby girl. I wanna see my good little girl get off on Daddy’s thigh.”

“F-Fuck–” you gasp as Jaehyun rocks against you, not giving you a chance to speak or breathe before he yanks you closer by the collar.

“That’s an order, baby girl.”

“Yes–yes sir.” You slowly drag your body forward, letting the feel of his muscled leg against your core wash over you. Jaehyun’s fingers work at the rest of the buttons on your blouse. He works them open deftly before reaching around your back to pop the clasp of your bra. You do him the favor of yanking both your blouse and bra off. They’re thrown somewhere behind you, but you don’t have time to glance back and check because Jaehyun’s lips are latching around one of your nipples without warning. You instinctively buck against him. “Fu-uck.” A small whine leaves your lips as Jaehyun’s tongue swirls around your sensitive bud. He gives a sharp suck to it. You watch the skin rise up under his lips, teeth sinking into your lower lip. His other hand finds its way to your other breast and massaging it with his large hand. He pulls off with a cocky grin to his lips.

“You sound so innocent and needy. No matter how many times I corrupt you, you still act all innocent.” Another whine slips out, Jaehyun’s long fingers toying with your nipples as he speaks. “Listen to yourself. I want to ruin you. Turn you into my own little slut.” Jaehyun pushes up, bringing you with him, and you yet again have to brace yourself on his shoulders.

“You haven’t ruined me yet, sir.” Lifting a hand to Jaehyun’s face, you trace his sharp jawline with your index finger. The light touch coaxes goosebumps out of his skin, ones that rise to meet your finger as you move along his features. “But I would quite like it if you did.” Your words come out like a purr. They have a visceral effect on Jaehyun, his whole body lurching forward and pushing your back to the edge of his desk roughly. The sensation sends ripples of pain through your body only for a moment before it passes and leaves you quivering in excitement underneath him.

“Turn around. Now.”

You don’t wait to be told twice and spin as quickly as you’re able to given Jaehyun’s close proximity to you. A hand comes down against your ass. The skin ripples under Jaehyun’s touch. Even with your underwear, you’re certain that his touch will leave a nice handprint across your skin. Besides the underwear doesn’t last long. Jaehyun yanks it down with one hand, the other finds your bare back and pushes you until your face presses against his desk. Something is digging into your stomach – probably his stapler or something of the like – and you try your best to wiggle it out of the way. Jaehyun must think you’re attempting to misbehave though because his hand comes down against your ass again. The sting is sharper this time now that you aren’t wearing any underwear, but you revel in it nonetheless.

“Da-addy, something’s hurting my side,” you call out to the man behind you.

“Oh? I should’ve cleaned the desk off beforehand. My apologies, baby girl.” The hand on your back snakes it’s way up to your head, latching onto your hair and yanking your body back. A wanton moan escapes at the sharp tug. Jaehyun ignores your whining in favor of sweeping his belongings to the side, leaving an open space for you to fall back against when he releases your hair. “I’ll make it up to you, princess, don’t worry.”

“I never do,” you giggle back. You can see his form out the corner of your eye. He must know that you can as well because he’s making a show out of taking his jacket off and rolling his sleeves up his forearms. You have to bite your lip to keep a moan from slipping out. Then, Jaehyun dips out of sight.

Cold fingers brush your slick folds, toying with the wetness pooled at your core. You gasp and lurch further forward on his desk, blindly grasping for some sort of support as he pushes two digits in without warning. The stretch is sudden and a bit uncomfortable at first, but soon he’s working you open like it’s common practice. The pads of his fingers toy around your sweet spot, teasing and prodding but never fully touching it, and you buck your hips back against his fingers in attempts to get him to hit that spot. It almost works, but Jaehyun crooks his fingers inside you at the same time. The suddenness of the action catches you off-guard. It also brings you to your first orgasm, walls clenching around his thick fingers, pulsing and tightening on him as you ride out your orgasm.

“Naughty naughty, little girl.” His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. “Roll over, face up.” Your mind is a bit muddled and fuzzy already. Jaehyun smacks the flat of his hand against your wet pussy, and it brings a jolt through you, an encouragement to get moving and roll over faster. Apparently, it’s still not fast enough for Jaehyun because he yanks you forward by the legs until your cunt is right in front of his lips. You nearly clench your thighs around his head just at the sight of him between your legs like that, but you resist the temptation in favor of throwing your head back in pleasure. He drags the flat of his tongue against your sopping folds. It’s slow at first, almost teasing in the way he laps at your heat, but he seems to realize that the two of you are still on a time crunch. Next thing you know, his tongue is prodding at your entrance. He builds up a quick rhythm, no longer wasting time in fucking his tongue in and out of you, and you reach down to grab hold of his hair. Fingers intertwine with his dark locks, and he groans against your pussy. The vibrations go straight to your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you. It’s enough to send another orgasm through your body, and it’s like little jolts of electricity shoot through you, making you see stars.

“O-Oh fu-fuck Jaehyun, fuck fuck. Fuck, Jaehyun, ju-ust like that, please. Yes, yes, yes,” you ramble, already halfway to losing yourself in the pleasure despite barely getting started. Jaehyun chuckles against you, sucking at your sensitive clit as he pulls off you.

“It seems that someone forgot what my title is.” A hand slaps your cunt. The sound that resonates is a wet and disgusting one, one that has you writhing under Jaehyun’s touch and has him slapping your pussy again when you fail to respond. “Get it right, slut. You have two options. Say them both.”

“S-Sir!” You cry out when his palm hits your clit again. “Sir an-and Daddy.”

“Good girl.” Jaehyun coos and rewards you with a small kiss pressed to your clit. “Up. I wanna fuck your pretty little mouth.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, chest heaving as you look up at Jaehyun, who’s getting to his feet himself. The sight distracts you a moment. His hair is ruffled and unkempt thanks to your touch, tie off-kilter and loose, lips and chin glistening with your juices, and it’s such a breathtaking sight that you lose your train of thought. “I said up.” Jaehyun pulls you back to reality by tugging your body forward, fingers clenched around your hips and pulling you off the desk. You nearly fall face first into his crotch, nose actually bumping the bulge in his trousers. He’s nearly bursting out of his pants. You grin at the thought of the large present hiding behind the material and resituate yourself so that you’re more comfortable on your knees before him.

“Yes sir,” you murmur as your fingers work his buttons and zipper apart. One sharp tug to the band of his pants and underwear is enough to spring his cock loose. He’s quite blessed, to be frank – thick and long, such that you have to use two hands to cover his whole length.

“Don’t just stare at me, baby girl.‌ Get to work.” You do as told, moistening your lips, then take the head of his cock into your mouth. He hisses at the contact. Your eyes snap up to his face as he makes the sound and gauge his reaction. He looks pleased already, tongue toying with the corner of his mouth while watching you bop your head up and down along his member. You hum around him. “F-Fuck, baby girl, let me fuck your mouth. Let me fuck it, shit.” His hand works its way into your hair and tightens around it. He lets you pull off to catch your breath once, a thin line of saliva connecting your lips and his shaft, then he pushes it back into your mouth. It fills you up before you’re even halfway down his member.‌ He keeps pushing and pushing though, and you thank your lucky stars for the lack of a gag reflex because you feel his cock press its way into your throat.

Jaehyun hisses above you. You can’t look up at him, too focused on his member, but he keeps groaning and hissing so much that you have to glance up at his expression. His eyes aren’t locked on your mouth or his cock, rather he’s looking past both things. The hand in your hair shifts, a light touch tracing down your skin until it reaches your throat.

“Fuck, you’re so tiny that my big cock bulges in your little throat. That’s the hottest shit I’ve ever seen, baby girl. Look at you.” Jaehyun’s hand slips back up to your hair and latches on. He braces himself on it, thrusting slowly in and out of your mouth. He presses into your throat with each thrust. The corners of your eyes are moist with tears, and they’ll begin to fall before he cums, but you try to focus on breathing around his fat cock rather than the tears. “You take my dick so well, princess. You’re doing so well, fu-uck. Such a good little slut for Daddy, aren’t you?” You can neither nod nor hum in approval around him, his cock filling you up too much to do either. Jaehyun doesn’t seem to expect an answer though. He keeps fucking your mouth, pace speeding up more and more as time goes on, and breathing is becoming more and more of a struggle. Still, he’s close and hot cum spills down your throat a moment later, nearly choking you from the sheer quantity of it and the lack of air in your lungs. Bringing a hand up to his hip, you drum your fingers against his bare skin three times, a small signal that you need him to pause for you. He pulls out immediately. “Are you alright, love?” He asks as you gasp for breath. The hand in your hair reaches around to cup your chin, lifting your face to his. Jaehyun stoops down to be eye to eye with you. “Color?”

“G-Green,” you gasp out. A small smile spreads across your lips as you see the relief in Jaehyun’s eyes. He must still be concerned though because your tears are already falling. “Fuck me, sir. Fuck me please?”

“Absolutely, baby girl. How do you want me?”

“Fuck me from behind. Bend me over your desk?” You plead as Jaehyun drags his fingers over your tear stricken cheeks.

“Ask nicely first, baby girl.”

“Daddy please bend me over your desk and fu-uck me like the little slut I am,” you beg, writhing under him.

“There we go, slut.” Jaehyun pulls you up by the arms and drags you over to his desk. You whine as he roughly pushes you up against it, letting him manhandle you into the position he wants you in, and there’s a sick sort of pleasure in letting him move you around like you’re his toy. Your face meets the cold wood of his desk again, cheek pressed to the surface so that you can look back and see what Jaehyun is doing behind you. His member is already hardening again, thanks to some help from his messy jerks, and within a few moments, he’s pressing the head against your wet hole.

He starts with a slow push. Despite his preparations, your cunt is still extremely tight around him. He takes extra care in thrusting slowly into you until he’s buried all the way in you. You whine at the sensation of being completely filled up by Jaehyun, coupled with your sensitive state from already orgasming twice. He goes slow at first; shallow and dragged out thrusts until you both get used to the sensation. Then, his speed picks up, thick member dragging across your slick velvety walls. Moans tumble from your lips without ceasing. You can’t bother being quiet as the sensation of Jaehyun’s cock in your tight pussy is too good for you to think straight. He groans as your walls tighten around him, clenching in rhythm with his quick thrusts.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby girl. No mat–no matter how many times I fuck you, you’re always so tight. Is my cock the only one you take? Are you my dirty little slut?”

“Yes, yes, Daddy, yes. I am sir, I’m yours. Only yours. Fuuuck I’m all yours.” Jaehyun’s thrusts speed up as you speak those words.

“That’s right, baby girl. All mine.” He’s already starting to falter with the rhythm of his thrusts, and with the way his cock is curving against your g spot, you know that you’re going to hit another high any second now. “Cum for me, baby girl. Cum around Daddy’s cock, yea?” You release a whine. Jaehyun gives a particularly harsh thrust, and it’s enough to send you over the brink and into another wave of orgasming. Your sight all but goes white from the sensation, stars in the corners of your vision. Jaehyun follows close behind.‌ Your walls tightening and pulsating around his member brings him to another orgasm himself. Hot seed pushes into you, filling you up, and you moan at the warmth in you. Jaehyun pants above you. Sweat on his brow, white shirt clinging to his body and showing the tan skin underneath, he cages you in with his arms.

“Damn,” you exhale as the orgasm passes.

“Damn is right.” Jaehyun pulls his softening member out of you. The absence of his cock immediately makes you feel cold, especially as you feel his cum sliding out of your pussy as well. “You did so well, baby girl. So so well.”

“Thank you, sir,” you mumble, too spent to say anything else.

“Now I hate to break it to you, but there’s a 5 o’clock appointment I need you to go fetch for me.”

“Oh fuck off!”‌ You call out, huffing as Jaehyun’s hands run over the curve of your ass. He chuckles to himself. “You can go get him yourself and explain why you’re late.”

“That’s for my assistant to do.”

“Your assistant seems to do a lot of things for you,” you counter.

“She’s quite good at her job, I must say. Now, let’s get you cleaned up and dressed properly again?”

“As you wish, Mr. Jung.”

...

a/n: ...i have no words tbh buuuuut i hope you guys do!!! please let me know what you think and share your feedback with me!

all these works are copyright 2020 calypso, jungtaeyoongles, all rights reserved.

[supermantv]

daxton + first date after getting back together

Their first date after getting back together is technically at the Winter Dance, and while it had been overall pleasant, there were still the minor bumps (the major glaring one being that Paxton had nearly ran his girlfriend over with his car) that prevented the date from retaining a sense of utter bliss that Paxton was still seeking. He adores her, loves being around her, thinks she is the most exciting person that he has ever met, but there is no denying that Devi is an absolute hurricane. He loves that too, and he’s starting to understand that moments of complete peace will be hard-earned, but entirely worth it. He’s also hoping that these moments of peace become more and more common, with a smoother path paved to achieve them each time. 

They’re in his garage when he decides to broach the subject, a random slasher film playing on the screen that neither of the two are really invested in. Devi lays between his legs, her own feet dangling over the edge of the couch as she rests her head on the hard planes of his stomach. She traces unrefined patterns into the exposed skin above the waistband of his jeans where his shirt has ridden up, and Paxton knows that if she keeps this up, there’s a very high possibility he will actually be driven insane, so to prevent this, he shifts into a sitting position, forcing Devi to move with him.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and it’s hard not to get distracted when his eyes follow the movement of her hands, shifting to smooth out her skirt, because it’s yellow and pink, and cute, and short, and it very much suits her. 

“Um.” Paxton clears his throat and flicks his eyes away and Devi must see something in his actions to tip her off to the situation because she actually laughs. Loud and unapologetic and Paxton feels the tip of his ears beginning to burn but he’s smiling. “Shut up,” he grumbles without a trace of any real aggravation, lobbing a pillow at her head. She catches it easily and hugs it to her chest. 

“Okay, okay,” Devi says and she quiets down but her eyes are twinkling. “What’s up?” 

“I was just gonna ask what you wanted to do for our first date on Saturday.”

“First date?” Devi asks bemusedly. 

“Yeah, y’know, first date since getting back together,” Paxton clarifies, but Devi still looks confused. 

“Wasn’t that at the dance?”

“Yeah, about that,” he starts, drawing back his shoulders and filling his voice with enough mock authority that Devi guffaws under her breath. “I’d like to put in a formal request right now for a do over.”

“Why?” Devi asks, taking this chance to throw the pillow back at him. It bounces harmlessly off his face where it slides into his lap, and he cries out from the shock of the hit rather than the pain. Devi ignores him. “I had a good time. Did you not have a good time?”

“I had a great time,” Paxton reassures her and his heart just about melts when she beams at him. “But I very nearly ran you over with my car at the beginning of the night.”

“After that!”

“After that you threatened to kill the DJ.”

“He deserved it,” Devi grumbles and the same murderous scowl she’d worn that night resurfaces. “But those were minor issues anyway.”

“I’m not sure vehicular manslaughter or attempted homicide are minor issues,” he jokes and his girlfriend rolls her eyes before he becomes serious again. “Really though. I just want to go on one perfect first date with you. No Trent or Marcus, and no narrowly avoided death.”

Devi wrinkles her nose. “Perfect is a tall order.”

“Third time’s the charm,” he says, but Devi’s doubtful expression doesn’t waver, so he relents. “Okay then, not a perfect first date. A first date where everything goes according to plan.”

“That’s more realistic,” Devi says, but she sounds and looks unconvinced by his words. “But still.”

“Don't worry,” Paxton says, leaning forward to rub his thumb tenderly across her cheek. She relaxes into his touch and he grins. “I'll prove you wrong.”

“I sure hope so,” Devi sighs, and no more is said on the subject for the night because then she's grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and yanking him into her. 

But of course, Devi was right to be skeptical, because as Paxton is starting to learn, it is impossible for things to go according to plan when they're involved. 

He’d called that very same night to make reservations at a semi-fancy Italian restaurant across town, and was promptly told they didn't do reservations, which as Paxton figured was even better, because if a restaurant didn't do reservations, that had to mean there was always available seating, right? He asks his mom to teach him how to iron on Thursday, and by the time Saturday night rolls around, he feels relaxed and ready, so assured that nothing could possibly go wrong. He lays the bouquet of flowers he'd bought for Devi gingerly in the passenger seat and whistles to himself as he starts the car. 

Except his car won't start. Why won't his car start?

And from then on, things only spiral out of control further. Paxton texts Devi asking if she can just walk to his house and he'll order an Uber to take them to the restaurant from there. Except when he checks his bank account, he cringes at the lack of money, failing to realize earlier how long it'd been since his last paycheck from his summer job. He wouldn't have even been able to pay the bill for their food, much less order a $15 Uber now. And really, he's not above begging his parents or sister for money, but his parents aren't home, gone on a weekend camping trip in the wilderness where they most likely don't get cell service. And Becca is working on a new assignment for school, her door locked with very clear instructions for Paxton not to interrupt her. He doesn't want to risk becoming a murder victim before his third first date with his girlfriend. 

So, when Devi arrives at his house and the front door swings open to reveal her visibly frazzled boyfriend explaining to her that he's going to be cooking for her tonight instead of going out, she smiles sweetly and nods her head in understanding. Paxton wonders briefly if she had seen it in his face, how close he is to snapping, because he’d been expecting maybe a little push back, a slight protest. He knows his girlfriend isn't renowned for her accommodating nature, but he thinks she's trying to be in this moment, for his sake, and he's grateful and questioning how he could have gotten so lucky. It makes him want to cradle her in his arms and kiss her senseless, but he can't because he needs to figure out what he's going to feed her. 

Paxton leads Devi to the living room and leaves her with a peck on her forehead and the TV remote before rushing back to the kitchen. And this is where the next problem presents itself, because Paxton doesn't know how to cook. 

At best, he can scramble an egg and microwave a hot pocket. Both of which he thinks Devi would not appreciate. So, Paxton grabs two packages of ramen from the cabinet and drops the noodles into a pot of boiling water. He thinks he can spruce it up with an onion, trying to recall all the tips and tricks he'd seen on the Food Network, but as he's cutting it his eyes begin to sting and he can't see all that well because he's blinking back tears and he's starting to feel like a contestant on Chopped when he slices his finger with the knife. He winces at the initial pain, but the cut is shallow, and it would be fine but now his blood is all over the cutting board and the onion and there goes that idea. 

Paxton is praying that it can't get any worst from here, because if one more thing goes wrong he's not sure he'll be able to keep it together. 

He turns off the stove and removes the pot from the heat, pouring the noodles carefully into two separate bowls. It's certainly not Michelin star worthy, but Paxton promised Devi dinner and it's better than nothing. 

But it's as if he’d been a war criminal or a serial killer in his last life, and the universe is determined to punish him, because Devi is sitting at the dining room table waiting for him, and all Paxton has to do is take three moderately sized steps to make it to the make it to her. But his foot gets caught on the corner of a rug and he staggers forward, the noodles and bowls flying out of his hands and straight onto Devi. The broth stains and drenches her dress and the noodles coat her from her hair down to her shoes, but she's still sitting, as if she hadn't processed what had just happened. 

“Shit,” Paxton swears, crouching next to her and flicking noodles off her thighs. “Are you okay? Any burns?” 

“I'm fine,” she says, glancing down at him, and her eyes are a little wide and her chin wobbles slightly, and he feels his heart drop into his chest because she's about to cry-.

The sound of her laugh startles him and his head snaps up, thinking she might've cracked before he had.

“What?” he asks, concerned. 

“I tried to tell you,” she says, but she doesn't look upset. Noodles cling to her cheeks but her smile stretches the entire length of her face. She doesn't even sound like she's gloating, even though she had been right, and as a result of his unwillingness to listen she was now wearing their dinner. 

Paxton’s fingers curl around the hem of her dress, causing broth to seep down his fist. “I wanted to make this perfect for you.”

“And it was,” Devi insists, hands coming up to cup his face. 

“Devi,” he grimaces. “You don't have to lie.”

“I'm not!” she objects. “It was perfectly us. And I like that.”

Paxton lifts a brow. “You like being covered in soggy ramen noodles.”

“You're deliberately missing the point,” Devi rolls her eyes and pinches his cheek. “I like being with you, even if the day is a complete disaster, I'll be happy because I was spending time with you. And, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm a bit of a disaster magnet.” 

“I think it's cute,” Paxton murmurs demurely. 

“See,” Devi says. “You know what I'm talking about, and you agree.” 

“The noodles don't help though.”

Devi makes a face. “No they do not.” 

And while Devi is taking a shower in his bathroom and Paxton is laying in bed, thrumming his fingers against his stomach, he thinks about what she had said about this date being perfectly them. He smiles to himself.

[itstheimpossibledream]

Thee Stallion

Word Count: 5,467

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Megan The Stallion, Hotch x Emily Prentiss

Summary: I’m trying something new, the writing style, the character type and fandom all a bit different than my usual stories so please lmk what you think ! So this first part is loosely based on Season 3 Episode 17. A Spencer Reaid sexual redemption story of sorts. Spencer’s high school crush grows up to be singer & sex icon Megan thee Stallion but, when a killer sadist and kidnapper enters her circles she turns to Spencer& The BAU  for help. The Team ends up going undercover at a sex party and things ensue. I’m aware it the most random pairing on the planet and it didn’t need to happen.But, this is what I wanted to write so like……..suck it???🤷🏾‍♀️Also a Prentiss and Hotch hook up ??? whaaaaat? I know I know I’m unhinged. Enjoy sluts😜Again Feedback is always welcome and requests are open! Please don’t copy or repost my fics without my permission!

"I don't know. Are you sure your parents aren't going to mind?" Spencer asked, nervously biting his bottom lip. He stepped into the doorway of the large home. It smelled clean, he noted that it didn't have the smells of a normal house, it's scents didn't remind him of family but more of a hotel.Scents of  maids, glass cleaners and overly expensive clothing filled his nostrils. He wasn't judging her but, to say her parents were filthy rich would be an understatement. Freshman year she moved to Las Vegas, and a week ago Mrs. Baird had asked Spencer if he'd mind tutoring her after school. He played it cool in front of his favorite teacher but, inside his heart had skipped for joy. He never actually expected her to ask him to walk her home. Not that he could consider saying no. No one would be looking for him anyway. As the Vegas sun beat down on them his heart soared, even in the silence.This infact was his cloud nine.He just never expected for the hottest girl in school to admit to wanting to spend time with him,much less for an extended period. Obviously, it was a purely platonic mathematical meeting but, still this was more alone time with a girl he wasn't related to than he had had so far in his life. She headed up the stairs and he followed behind her like a lost puppy, trying with all his might not to look up her incredibly short school-uniform-issued skirt,as she ascended. It wasn't necessarily that she was the most popular girl in school, or the fact that she was the hottest that made him crazy about her, as much as it was the fact that she always smiled at him. She was just nice. The day he met her,Mom was having an episode, a bad one and she forgot to wake him up for school. Much to his surprise this day was also her first day of school, she smiled at Spencer in the office and he made sure to set an alarm knowing he couldn't rely on his mother and was never late to school again. He vowed to himself to never miss that smile if he could help it. 

The intricate wooden door swung open into what Spencer could only imagine was the inside of a pepto-bismol bottle, or every girl's dream. The entire room was hot pink and bright, it wasn't what he had pictured for her but then again she was doing many things out of character today. 

"Are you sure your parents are okay with me being in your room?" he asked again, just to be on the safe side. She broke into laughter shooting him a look of astonishment that also somehow managed to make him feel as though he had asked a stupid question. 

"They never care that there are boys in my room. They're never home." she retorted quickly.

"O." Spencer was surprised by the popping sound his lips made as he said it.

"Why?" she followed up quickly "You've never had a girl in your room before?" she took off her sweater, embellished with the school's emblem and sat it on the back of her color coordinated office chair.

"Ummmmm no." He replied honestly .

"Then you should invite me over sometime." She said, crossing the room to sit on her impossibly large bed. 

"O ummm- I don't think that'd be a good idea." he whispered to himself. The room fell silent for a moment and he realized that he had made the moment awkward, she had offered to come to his house, to be in his room and he had turned her down. 

"Your uhhhh-Your room is VERY pink." he managed to get out in order to cover the silence. He scratched the back of his head, a visual declaration of his insecurities manifesting and she doubled over in laughter again, finding herself shockingly both amused and turned on by his honesty. Men weren't honest like that, and definitely not with her. 

"Pretty observant. I guess that's why you're the smartest kid in the state." She winked. He ignored the wink, it probably wasn't intentional. 

"Actually it's just the Tri-state area but......thanks" he trailed off again. This time she didn't try to come up with something to say to make him more comfortable. She allowed him to sit in the silence and shockingly he realized he was less bothered by it. She watched as he fiddled with his hands, the veins in his slender fingers raised to attention. Eventually, She pulled her textbook from her back pack and opened to a problem that she was having trouble with. Spencer watched over her shoulder as she worked through the math on her own. Truthfully, she got farther than he had expected her to. He could tell though that at this part she was stuck, he gave her a second to see if she would catch her mistake.But, he couldn't bare to watch it anymore , reaching down his hand to cover hers, guiding it to write the right numbers. When he leaned in she could smell his cologne, a scent much more mature than that of anyone else  their age. She wanted Spencer bad. He had to be avoiding it not to notice.He was actually the first boy she had had in her room that didn't attempt to get her naked the second the door closed behind them. His adams apple bobbed as he finished the last number and she decided to go for it. There was something about the curve in his lip as he smiled down at his math that made her want to jump his bones. She could tell he wasn't the kind of guy you fake an orgasm for. He was someone who wasn't afraid to work at something until they got it right. 

"Can you sit in this chair for me?" she asked, slowly running her hand over the seat's back.

"sure." he shrugged, taking the book with him, completely unaware of your intentions. You move to the door and lock it, he was probably a virgin,probably wanted a less risky experience.You straddle his right thigh and his eyes immediately snap up to meet you,when you finally lower yourself onto his leg, he can't ignore it anymore. You feel his body tensing up under you,

"Do you want me to stop?" you say looking directly in his eyes. He had never made uninterrupted eye contact with you for this long but you could see the wheels in his head turning. 

"NO!" he says, louder than he had expected to, afterall he was the smartest kid in the entire tri-state area. He knew what you were offering him now. You lean down to kiss him, at first his lips don't move and you wonder if you had completely misjudged him.Then, you feel a hand move to the back of your head as he cradles you to his mouth,pushing back, his tongue fighting for dominance. You slowly began rolling your hips on his leg, leaning in at the top, putting the most pressure on your clit. You could feel him growing hard, and soon enough you were rubbing him through his pants as he exhaled the tiniest moans. You were in love with that sound, and you knew you would do anything he asked you to, as long as he never stopped making it. He was able to lift himself up and move his pants down enough to spring his cock free from his underwear, it was so shockingly confident and unlike him a few minutes prior and you cherished it. You lifted your skirt for him so he could move your underwear to the side and enter you.The entire walk home had felt like foreplay to you anyway, the underwear you were wearing had been soaked through. He looked up at you, eyes heavily lidded and filled with lust. He didn't seem as innocent as he had before entering your room. Swinging your leg to his side so you were fully straddling him, you lowered yourself to him and relished in the intake of breath he had as his tip began exploring your walls.He looked up at you so innocently you couldn't help but moan out his name. 

"Shhh. Shh.We don't want anyone to hear you." He whispered before pulling you in for another kiss. You whine into his mouth as he ruts his hips up into you. His hips move with force but, control he's savoring it, not wanting to cum too soon. It was his first time, you wouldn't have held it against him but, god were you glad he was lasting. You were beginning to unravel ontop of him. His nimble fingers worked open the buttons of your shirt as you bounced on him. He reached a hand inside and you were surprised by the warmth of his long hand as he plamed your breast,working your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Oh. my god." you breathed over and over again, as he continued pushing into you. The sensation was much more than you were used to,and you grappled with your emotions as he pushed you over the edge. You were loud, there wasn't even an attempt to hold it in. He pulled back from your mouth, a large smile breaking across his face. He was beaming with pride and while you loved to see how happy your orgasm had made him, you were slightly annoyed to learn that even Spencer was not entirely exempt from succumbing to unnecessary male bravado. You could feel him moving inside you, pulsing his dick against your walls as he watched you come down from your high. He brought your face to his, kissing you deeply as you began to roll your hips onto him again. His gaze is dark and you press your hands down on his chest to adjust yourself as you ride him. He loves watching you,everything from the way you flip your hair, to the noises that escape your throat with each thrust. You kiss his neck, working your lips on the space behind his ear, his eyes roll to the back of his head and he whispers a light "Fuck." in response to your action. He began pushing into you fast and quick , he held you up by your hips allowing himself to slide completely in and out of you. When he controlled your hips it allowed him to push up and bottom out, hitting your deepest point. He moans again, his voice hitting a higher pitch than you had expected and you knew what you were doing to him. He pushed into you for the last  time letting out an embarrassingly loud noise as you bounced a bit more, releasing your orgasm all over him. He practically beams up at you , filled with pride. You make out with him again as he slowly softens inside you. 

"Do you ummm-want to finish studying or- I can leave if you...." The confidence of the moments before had evaporated and in its wake was the same timid genius as before. 

"I'd like it if you stayed." you said, peeling your skin from his and removing the rest of your school uniform while changing into your robe.You walked to your bathroom, splashing water on your face and looking at your reflection. You came back from the bathroom to find Spencer dressed, the chair was placed back near the table and the room looked as though nothing had ever happened. He had the book back in his lap and was reading it intently, or maybe he was just staring down at it to avoid making eye contact with you. 

"You can use the bathroom if you want." you smiled at him as you pulled the ties on your robe tighter. 

"I'm okay." he said, barely looking up from the text. There was a bang on the door, that got his attention. He looked at you now, his pupils jumping with fear. The knock hit the door again, stronger this time. 

"I'm coming." she called shakily. She quickly crossed the room and unlocked the door. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 "So that's why they did it?"Derrick said, spinning in his chair again. The bull pen was practically empty but the heat that dripped off of Spencer's lips as he spoke was palpable. 

"He really had no choice." Spencer said furrowing his brow. "American society heralds the high school quarterback as the traditional teen alpha male .What was he supposed to do?" he shrugged, clearing his throat.

" He wasn't supposed to bully you, to embarrass you in front of the whole school. He shouldn't have chosen that.It's not your fault his girlfriend chose you." Derek leaned in, he was good at that, the supportive older brother role. It made him feel safer, it made him feel understood and it gave Derek a window into a part of Spencer's life that he was rarely allowed to see. 

"And that's why you don't want to help her?" Derek asked but it came out as more of a statement. Spencer returned his gaze to his desk while Derek ogled the woman in Hotch's office. 

"Sure had to be good for your ego though."Morgan remarks pleasantly, swinging his chair around again

"Pain and happiness are simply conditions of the ego.Forget the ego. A quote from Laozi."Spencer shrugs, pushing up from his desk. 

"Okay but have you seen her music videos?She twerks Spencer."

"I've seen all of them, the same as she's aware of every achievement and degree I've been honored with. We're friends just......from afar." the corner of Spencer's mouth twitched as he finished and Derek couldn't help but pry more, following him to the coffee stand. 

"Why?" he pushed " Do you think if you get close to her again something else bad will happen?"

"I don't know." his mouth quirked up again while he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. Derek was chuckling to himself while stirring his coffee and Spencer knew he could not wait to tell Garcia. 

“What ?” he finally asked unable to ignore Morgan’s chuckles any longer. 

“Just never thought you could handle a sister… much less….” he trailed off.

“Shut up Morgan.” he countered quickly , refusing to make eye contact.

Emily crosses the room towards them, perching atop Morgan’s desk. “You guys got any idea what that’s about ?” She asks motioning towards Hotch’s office.

“Spencer’s friend had some coworkers go missing.” Morgan offers, folding his arms in a fake gesture of jealousy towards Spencer, who rolls his eyes. 

“Ah. What does she do?”Prentiss asks, always the curious one.

“Real-estate.” Spencer quips quickly before shoving his hands into his pockets and moving past them to leave. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed by her, he truly wasn’t. It was more the time in his life that she reminded him of that he wished to escape.His thoughts were silenced  when Hotch announced to the bull pen that they were to meet immediately.

Hotch walked up swiftly behind Prentiss, "Pack and meet back here in 30." Hotch said, throwing the file under his arm. Prentiss looks from Spencer to Derek, and the room becomes silent as they watch Hotch walk away with Megan.

"O We're definitely taking this case." Derek raised his eyebrows and Spencer felt his heartbeat quicken. Okay so he had to be around her again, he could do that. It wasn't as if she was a bad memory. Infact, he associated her with a lot of the positive parts of his teenage years, nothing had really topped losing his virginity. 

"Hey guys-" Prentiss said looking up from the file,"you have no idea how fun this case is gonna be." she said, laughing to herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer rapped his pen quickly against the notepad before him. The case actually seemed simple to him, she brought good intel, she practically handed them the unsub their only job was to make a clear, fool proof arrest.Dalton Hughes was wanted for kidnapping and forcing women into sexual slavery. Definitely not their usual work but, she had used Spencer’s name to get FBI attention.And while he attempted to hide it well, Spencer could tell Hotch was more than attracted to her.

 “Reid and Prentiss you’ll be undercover.” Hotch finished 

“ Woahhhh.Wait what?!?!” Spencer exclaimed 

“You brought us this case I assume you wanted to be hands on.” Hotch responds directly.

“ I do- I-I just think Morgan would be less obvious.” he pleaded to deaf ears.

“ Gee thanks.” Derek’s dry humor broke the rest of the room into an uproarious laughter.

“Actually, Tall fit black guy in those circles is either a performer or an athlete-regardless he’s got to much charm. He's  the kind of guy who walks into a room and everyone knows who he is. You guys need someone who can fly under the radar for this.” she says leaning in on the doorframe. Overhearing their meeting wasn’t intentional, she just wanted to make sure he had relayed the case clearly, plus there was only so much space inside the plane. 

“ Great. I’m just the right amount of invisible I guess.” Reid says, faking a smile as he gets up from his seat to pace the aircraft.JJ pats him on the back and you can tell she’s trying to console him but, you know there isn’t much left to console. The rest of the team filed out as you scurried to catch up with Spencer.

“ Did she just profile me?” Morgan asks aloud, a hint of disgust in his voice.

“ Look you know I respect our unspoken bond, and I swear I wouldn’t have come if I had another option.” you say grabbing his arm, pleading for him to look at you. He’d grown a lot since you had last seen him.His muscle tone was becoming as prevalent as his wit.

“ I know.” He admits sternly, his voice is low but sure.

“ I know-I just.I ummmm….” his voice trailed off and you watch as his eyes jumped around, looking everywhere except directly at you. It was impossible for him to be at a loss for words, this silence just meant he wasn’t sure of what he knew he wanted to say. “Can we uhhh-“ he still can’t find the agreeable language before Hotch cuts in. 

“We’re all okay with these assignments then?”he asks. He seemed to accept the assorted responses from the room and returned to his reading of the file. Megan quietly excuses herself to go to the bathroom. 

"Prentiss was right." Rossi smiles to himself, " I do love this case."

"I just don't see why I'm going undercover in a sex ring instead of Derek." Spencer whispers.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Derek shoots back in mock surprise.Both Prentiss and Spencer burst out in laughter, and even Hotch can't help but smile.

"For what it's worth I'd trade spots with you anyday, pretty boy." Morgan says winking at Spencer.

"We need it to be Reid, he and Megan have a good rapport and I want to build on that.The more natural the relationship looks the better."  

"Wait what do you mean relationship?"Prentiss shoots. No one responds, so Prentiss breaks the silence of the jet with an "O.I see......No way.....Well, good for you Reid."

"O my god." Spencer rolls his eyes"can we please just get to L.A. without going through my entire sexual history?"

"Oooooo.So there is a sexual history?" Now, Morgan turns to fully face Reid, clapping him on the back. Prentiss makes a sexual gesture with her hands, and the entire room erupts in laughter again.  

"Stop." Prentiss immediately let's up on the joke at Hotch's command.Everyone attempts to hold it in but, after a second of silence Rossi breaks, and the rest of the group can’t help but follow.  

“You know, I stripped undercover before.” Prentiss cuts in.

“Oh god. How did I know we were going to go back to that.”  Morgan feigns annoyance.

“Good point Emily, you should be paired with Hotch.” Rossi says flippantly.

“That’s fine. We could use Emily’s expertise.” Hotch says, his eyes flaring as he looks down at the file, definitely pretending to read. Clearly it was not fine but, it was more important for him to pretend it was for the sake of the room than not to. Plus, having more agents on the ground was always reassuring. 

The plane begins its landing process and Spencer is lost in thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was calm and collected since the second he stepped off the plane to be honest. It wasn't until she slid her her leg on top of his, showing herself off to the dance floor,as he calmly rested his hand on her knee as if nothing out of the ordinary that he had the time to process what was happening."Okay can you see him?" she whispers into his ear. Ofcourse he can see him, ofcourse he was looking at her. Everyone in the room couldn't help but look at her, she was easily the most beautiful woman in any room she walked into. And while she was not the most famous guest at the party, not by a long shot she was, sure to grab attention that way as well.  Spencer knew that but,he also knew that this was acting, and while he was good at reading other people's behavior he hoped she wouldn’t judge his behavior by the feeling of him growing under her leg. "Are we going to talk to him now?" 

“No ...ummm our job is more to survey. You know keep an eye on everything.” He choked out.

“It’s easier if I have some help.” she smiled. He lightly brushed a finger over the tops of her knees, slowly moving his way up her thigh. It was gentle but, it was teasing enough for her to notice. 

“ I’m not against helping, I just didn’t think you’d need it.” he smiled smugly next to you. 

“What are you smiling about ?” she asked .

“You know you having an orgasm is not part of the assignment right ?”he avoided looking at her as his hand toyed further up the hem of her dress. 

“The assignment was to be realistic. God I thought you were good at school.” she snuck in a kiss on his neck below his ear, like she used to. His breath caught in his throat which he decided to turn into a light cough , thinking that would avoid her detection. 

“This collar means I’m a sub.” she said, grinding her butt onto his lap again. He clears his throat. “Implying that you’re my dominant. If this is going to work you have to seem in control.” she whispered the last part in his ear, sending a chill down his spine. His hand flew to her throat, thumb just lightly pressing its way into her air intake , as he pulled her head towards his. 

“I know what it means.”his voice was low and stern. Infact, the hardest part in prepping for this case was not telling the rest of the group just how much he actually understood the mission. It’s not uncommon for sadists to take interest in the bdsm and kink community but, he wasn’t going to allow himself to fill his coworkers in on his sexual preferences. She looked fragile like this, his hand around her neck, her legs wide for the whole room, as sexual and commanding as she was she had no issue letting him top her, and he thrived on that power. His first industry sex  party was going well as far as he was concerned. She leaned in to kiss him and he let out a disinterested “No.” , looking past her. She didn’t have the time to recover her feelings before he asked “Is there a private room?” 

Sure she had been forward with him, but she was shocked by this admission. Maybe he really had let that young, timid version of himself entirely float away. 

“Yes. down that hall. Any door on the left.” she steadied her voice, trying not to let her excitement be too obvious. Calmly, he pulled his cuff to his mouth “Our suspect is headed to a back room with a woman in an orange dress.” Her eyes shoot to Hotch and Prentiss, who are in their very own form of a compromising position.It was understated and tasteful but, there was no denying that his hand was in her mouth,as she sucked on his fingers.JJ was right by the door immediately headed towards the room,  Spencer slowly got up, and fell in line behind Hotch and Emily kept an eye on the room. In the end, it was JJ’s arrest and Derek and Rossi were outside waiting for her to hand over the perp. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ So what’s your kink?” She asked breaking into a broad smile as a direct result of his uncomfortability. They were supposed to be undercover as strangers,two consenting adults meeting at the party. It’d be naive to pretend as though she never had a crush on Hotch. And even worse for him to deny the attraction as well. For as much time as she had spent with him, it always manages to shock her how he never gave any information unasked. Even as she had spent so much time undercover, she never met anyone in the FBI who would do better with international intelligence than Hotch.

“I don’t have any.”he shrugs crossing his arms across his chest. He hadn’t even taken his jacket off.  She snakes her hand inside his jacket pocket and pulls out a buisness card.

“ Okayyyyy Detective Hotcher” she say, turning the card in her hand as she palms her drink. It was whiskey,he had ordered it for the table , he poured it with such care that a part of you envied the whiskey. To be cared for, to have hands like that pour into you.

“Not so thorough for undercover.” you joke with him

“I’ve been very busy.” he replies with, and you can read into it that he is disappointed in himself. Such a master of perfection but, he couldn’t manage to look comfortable on the obviously expensive couch. You stood infront of him , cocking your head to the side as you undid the belt of your wrap dress. It’s silky material rolled off of your body without hesitation and landed safely on the carpet, revealing the lingerie you had so carefully picked out for this mission. You watch as his eyes move from the dress on the floor to your heels and then trace over your body. He seems incredibly still except for the ticking of his watch. You can tell it was expensive but tasteful, not too large or flashy.He allowed you to walk toward him. You straddled him lightly, lowering yourself down onto him. You felt him exhale as his hands came to your lower back, a warmth spread throughout your body as his hands lightly rubbed your back . You rocked your hips forward and his eyes flashed up to yours. He fit his hands in the crease of your hips as you roll back and forth on his lap. His breath hitches, just enough for you to hear and you smirk knowingly at him.

“ Everyone has a kink agent Hotchner.” His eyes sparkle up at you. You can feel the twinge of interest, skirting his thought. 

“Stop using my real name.” he corrects her sternly, her eyes challenging him 

“So what’s yours ?” He turns his chin up to you, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. Your fingers begin working at his tie, and as you roll your hips forward again you can feel his member growing under you.

“ I think that’s convincing enough.” He grunts, trying to remove himself from under you but, you  cradle his hand and look into his eyes as you redirect it to your core.His hands immediately go to work as if he held no validity to his previous statement. You grind down on his fingers a little more.

“ You’re attracting a lot of attention now, I think-“ his whispered pleas were cut off as you bent close to his ear “ I thought I was the on-the-ground-professional in this case? I thought you needed my what was it ‘extensive experience’?” Hotch allowed himself to laugh at the use of a direct quote. 

“So getting me hard in a room full of people proves that?”he retorts quickly.

“No”, she replies calmly continuing to ride his fingers while nonchalantly drawing circles on his chest. 

“ But it does ensure that you’ll think of me the next few times when you’re alone. You will have wished you fucked me.And that’s even better.” She smiled, removing Hotch’s fingers and slowly seating herself next to him. He swung his arm over her shoulder and she brought his fingers to her mouth,placing them on her tongue.He shivered but, watched intently as she sucked on his fingers until he heard Spencer over his ear feed. The subject had headed for a private room, she was aware of the energy change and as Hotch moved towards the perp she, expertly blended into the crowd of other confused onlookers.

Within an hour of interrogation Rossi got him to reveal the location of the girls he was keeping captive. Soon after, Derek led a unit to retrieve them. It wasn’t their flashiest case but, it definitely gave everyone a warm feeling to go home with. Something the team hadn’t had in a long while. They stood in the lobby of the hotel, everyone with their own secrets,everyone trying to pretend that that wasn’t one of their more challenging missions. Everyone seemed different, quieter somehow; how’s that for a team building exercise Spencer found himself thinking.

“I’m uhhh-” he attempted to break the silence.

“Just go Spence!” the group responded in unison, almost comically.

“Wait. wait.” he stopped at Rossi's command and turned back accepting his handshake, the older agent clapped him on the back and smoothly slid a small stack of condoms into his hand. 

“Go get em’ tiger.” he huffed under his breath, and Spencer couldn’t help but laugh to himself, as he turned on his heels to leave. 

His heart raced as he entered the elevator, he wanted to shower, plan his outfit, his words; he wanted to tell her how much he wanted her, how much he had held back for years. His keycard slid into the door, he pushed it open and could barely make out the figure in the dark. Instinctively reaching for his gun,it wasn’t until he heard Megan call out his name that he was brought back to safety.

“Jesus, don’t kill me Spencer.”she laughed 

“You could have been an intruder.”he laughed in agreement of how ridiculous it all was. 

“Do most of your intruders dress like this?”She stood up so he could see, she wore a garter clearly visible below her much outgrown private school issued uniform skirt. The heels and his own opened buttoned down shirt completed the look that he was sure would drive him to his grave. 

“Shit.” he exhaled, covering his face with his hand as she closed the door as well as the space between them; extending her hands to his pants. She could feel he was hard through his khakis, god only Spencer could get away with wearing khakis at an industry event.He quickly swatted her hand away, pulling her face to his. He pushes her against the wall, feeling her curves, feeling her warmth , feeling for the first time untouchable since that day in highschool. 

[matbarzyy]

To Love Is To Let Go [A.B.]

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How can the heart and mind find a balance when love and yearning are mixed up with distance and responsibilities?

A/N: I’m so excited for you guys to finally read this! Another conversation about Tito with @itrocksmysocks​ made us create this story and I ended up writing it, so I hope you’ll like it!

Word count: 12219

Warning: A tiny bit of smut

.

“If you don’t go get that man I swear!” Adeline’s friend, Maya, exclaimed as she gave her shoulder a push.

They were out to celebrate together in Montreal because a month had now passed since Adaline moved there for her internship assisting a book editor, and it had to be memorable.

“Okay okay! I’m doing it!” The brunette adjusted her skirt, fixed a strand of her hair, and took a deep breath. “I’m going,” she said more for herself than anyone else.

            The man across the bar had finally gotten up from the table he was at with his friends to order a drink, and that was the perfect opportunity for Adeline to go up to him. She might not get another chance during the night, so with an extra push from her friend, she found herself walking over to where he was.

“Hi,” she greeted him shyly, making him turn his attention to her. Her voice felt a little weak and looking straight into his blue eyes was more destabilizing than she thought it would be.

“Hi,” he replied as he waited, his tone suggesting she had to continue quickly if she didn’t want to lose his attention.

“I, uh,” Adeline struggled before getting a hold of herself again. She wasn’t a fifteen years old high school girl admitting her crush to a boy, she was a confident woman in a bar, and she was going to act like one. “I saw you sitting with your friends earlier and I figured now was a good time to come ask if I could get you a drink.” She let the sentence out without a hitch, and a little sense of pride filled her until his lack of reaction made her deflate. “Or not, it’s fine if not.”

“No, no,” he reassured her as a smile spread on his face. “I mean, yeah, you can get me a drink, if I can get your name,”

“Adeline,” she told him without hesitation.

“Adeline,” he repeated before nodding. “That’s pretty, I’m Anthony, but most of my friends call me Tito.”

            With the introductions over, Adeline leaned against the bar beside him and the bartender came over to them. One drink soon turned into two, the alcohol was going down fast to erase the nervousness, but their conversation was flowing surprisingly easily. Nevertheless, three drinks were all it took for Adeline and Maya to be reunited in the bathroom.

“So?” She grilled her for the details while Adeline pressed her palms over her cheeks, trying to get herself to cool down.

“I really like him,” she admitted to Maya and shushed out her excitement immediately after. “But he could still be a weirdo, he’s too nice to be true.”

“Honey, he’s not a weirdo, he’s a professional hockey player,” Maya chuckled as she revealed everything she knew. “Why do you think he’s so hot?”

“How do you know?” A frown settled on the brunette’s face as she pieced everything together.

“He’s a NHL player, how do you not know?” Her friend countered and reached up to remove a small piece of fluff from her hair.

“Oh my god,” Adeline breathed out. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“It was sweet you didn’t know,” Maya shrugged. “Now go back out there and make him swoon.”

            When they returned, Anthony was sitting at a small table by himself, and she didn’t hesitate to join. Maya was friends with one of the bartenders there, so it wasn’t like she minded being left alone.

“I figured it’d be more comfortable,” he explained as she took a seat. “Especially if we keep on going at that pace,”

“You figured right,” Adeline, put her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. “My friend told me something interesting about you,”

“Should I start worrying?” He exhaled a nervous chuckle, but she shook her head almost imperceptibly.

“You play hockey?” She looked into his eyes to gauge his reaction. Maybe the alcohol was hindering her perceptiveness, but if she was right it looked like the question made him sad.

“Ah,” Tito’s nervousness settled but a sense of disappointment replaced it. “I kinda suspected you knew already,”

“I had no clue until five minutes ago, figured it was only fair to tell you,” Adeline told him the truth because she knew instantly that the kind of attention he got from being a professional athlete wasn’t necessarily the kind of attention he wanted. “Was it better when I didn’t know?”

“Yes and no,” he replied honestly. “Yes, because it meant you just liked me and not for shitty reasons. No because I wasn’t going to hide it anyway, and you didn’t know for the past hour, so I feel like we’re good,”

“Good,” she smiled. “Feel like having another drink?”

            Tito wasn’t one to turn the offer down, and the two spilled things to each other that they would have never considered sharing with a stranger before. It was freeing to talk without boundaries, to be able to say anything on any subject and listen to someone else’s perspective of the world. Adeline thought he was interesting for someone so different. He was down to earth and witty, constantly making her laugh with the dumbest jokes, and maybe it was because she was drunk, but deep down she knew the butterflies and giddiness she felt weren’t from the alcohol.

“You’re so damn adorable,” Tito blurted out in the middle of one of her sentences, and silence fell onto their conversation.

            Adeline stared at him while a smile spread on her face, but the cuteness of the moment was cut off by both of them bursting out laughing for no apparent reason. It was a fit of uncontrolled giggles at first, followed by an outburst of deep laughs that they thought would never stop.

“We’re so fucking drunk,” Adeline managed to squeak out through shakes of her chest.

“Yeah, you might wanna let go of this,” Tito reached to gently push her drink a few inches away from her hand, but his inhibitions were low and he underestimated his strength, sending the glass sliding all the way to the edge of the table.

            Their eyes widened in shock when it stopped just before falling to the floor, and with that another fit of unstoppable laughter began.

            It was something neither of them ever experienced that strongly, that connection with a stranger that made them feel like they had known each other their own lives. In the middle of their busy, messy lives, they had found a bubble of happiness and oxygen within each other.

            It took several minutes for them to calm down, and when a relatively normal conversation resumed, Maya walked over to them to ask if she should leave on her own or wait for Adeline. Time had flown by and it was past one in the morning already.

“Five minutes?” The brunette barely looked away from Tito, and Maya took the hint.

“Well, before you go,” He waited until she had walked away to continue. “Can I ask for your number or do you have to be the one taking all the first steps?”

“You can have my number.”

.

            Getting into the uber with Maya was a blur, all that Adeline knew was that she was feeling like a kid on Christmas eve after her night with Tito. She wasn’t drunk enough that she couldn’t make a sentence or walk, but definitely drunk enough to zone out and say everything on her mind no matter how stupid or embarrassing.

“Oh my god, he’s already texting?” Maya took the phone from her inebriated friend’s hands after it buzzed multiple times. “Damn,” she looked over the few messages they had started to exchange.

            Adaline didn’t respond, only giggling drunkenly before getting her phone back and focusing on the screen to type another reply. Everything was a little bit blurry, especially in the moving car, but once it stopped in front of her building she sobered up a little.

“Drink some water before bed, yeah?” Her friend told her as she opened the door.

“Yep! Text when you’re home!” Adeline gave her friend a loud kiss on the cheek before getting out and somehow walking to the door without stumbling.

T: Fries would be sooooo good right now

            The text came just as she kicked her shoes off while the door fell shut behind her. She groaned out loud at the idea, heading to her bedroom with her phone in hand.

A: Don’t talk to me about food I’m starving now

T: Make food?

A: I can barely hold my phone

            Adeline struggled to take her clothes off and sighed in relief once she was finally naked.

T: What if I come over with fries?

A: Omg you would?

T: Address?

“Well shit,” she laughed to herself as she grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants, pairing them with a comfy t-shirt because she was too drunk and tired to put in an effort with sexy pajamas. She was pretty sure sex wasn’t an option for tonight anyway, they were both too drunk, it wouldn’t get anywhere.

            Adeline sat on her living room floor to stay awake as she waited, her head lolling from side to side as she scrolled through social media, laughing and snorting out loud in ways she’d never do sober. It only took ten minutes for Tito to text he was there, and she jumped back up with renewed energy at the idea of food.

“My savior!” She exclaimed as she opened the door for him and saw the paper bag in his hands.

“Shh, your neighbors!” Tito laughed at her, letting himself in and giving her the bag before following her to the living room.

“Fuck Tito,” Adeline took in the smell of the fries as she opened one of the boxes and handed it to him. “I owe you big time,”

“They’re just fries,” he sat on the carpet with her. “But I’d take some ketchup,”

“Oh, yeah!” She crawled over to the fridge that was easily accessible since she had an open kitchen. The apartment wasn’t huge, but since the kitchen and living room were merged the living space was big enough.

“Mph,” Tito groaned as he stuffed fries in his mouth. “Best decision ever,”

“And does this look like a good decision?” She said to catch his attention, a bottle of tequila in hand.

“It looks like a terrible decision and I’m so down for it.”

            Adeline sat on the floor with him, food, condiment, and bottle of tequila all within reach. She took the first gulp, big enough that it was worth more than a shot, and Tito followed her lead.

            The rest of the night was erased from both of their memories.

            When she woke up, Adeline felt her body ache in ways it rarely had before. She was still on the floor and there was a bad taste in her mouth as she opened her eyes. The paper bag that Tito brought over was on the floor along with two empty boxes that once held the fries. Tito himself was on the floor too, and his position looked more than uncomfortable, but his mouth was slightly parted, and his chest was rising and falling at a steady rhythm.

“Hey,” Adeline rasped out, nudging him with her foot. “You alive?” She asked as he stirred awake.

            An unconvinced grunt reached her in response, and Tito brought his hands up to rub his face.

“Time?” He groaned, counting on her to have her eyes open.

“Eleven,” she pushed herself up and grabbed the counter while a wave of nausea washed over her. “Advil?”

“Fuck yes,”

            Tito managed to get up too and downed two glasses of water with the pills Adeline handed him. They were both silent as they sat on the couch and took some time to really wake up. The apartment was on a low floor, and for the first time since she moved in, Adeline was glad for the lack of light that came from outside.

“I’m gonna make pancakes.” She eventually said, deciding breakfast was the only way her stomach would settle.

“Oh, so you’re going to beat me to every nice gesture?” Tito teased although he was glad he was about to eat. She gave him a look and he only smiled, leaning back more comfortably on the couch. “Jokes aside, this was the best night I’ve had in forever.”

“Me too,” Adeline hummed, already pouring milk into the rest of her ingredients and stirring. She cooked breakfast so often she could make pancakes with her eyes closed. “It was a lot more fun than any stupid party I’ve gone to lately,”

            The conversation shifted to small talk after that, something to keep themselves busy as they got lost in thoughts. There was some unspoken communication going on, they obviously had chemistry, but they had only known each other for one night and they were already being so domestic it was scary for both of them.

It was clear they could build something together if they gave it a try, but Tito didn’t live in Montreal, and why the hell was Adeline even thinking so far ahead already? She tried her best to focus on cooking to get all of the ideas out of her head and stacked the pancakes in plates before bringing them over to the table.

“I want to eat these every morning for the rest of my life,” Tito almost moaned when he took the first bite of his food.

            Adeline always kept maple syrup around, and this morning she even had some chocolate spread and strawberries left from this week’s grocery shopping. It made for an amazing breakfast.

“Thanks, I cook a lot,” she explained as she dug into her own food. “The cleaning up is the not fun part.”

“I hate dishes,” Tito nodded his agreement.

“A nice guest would offer to do them after I just cooked,” she pointed out to see what’d he’d say, and he put on his best angel face.

“Mmh, but a nice host would politely refuse that kind of offer,” he tried to serve his half ass excuse with a smile.

“Do you want more pancakes, or do you want to get kicked out?” Adeline gave him a murderous look in response, and Tito forgot to chew as he swallowed his next bite.

“Pancakes, definitely the pancakes. Promise I’ll do the dishes.”

.

            When the Sunday ended, Tito went home and Adeline spent hours in a bath trying to set her mind straight. She liked him a lot, there was no denying that, but would they ever be able to make anything work? He was an amazing person and they had a great night together, but it didn’t mean he’d let himself fall for her too, especially since he lived in New York most of the time.

            A sigh fell from her lips in the steam-filled bathroom, and she let her body slide down for her head to be submerged. The world turned silent and dark for a few seconds, it helped her empty her mind of all thoughts. When she pushed herself up with her feet and oxygen filled her lungs again, Adeline felt a little better.

            Little did she know that Tito was dealing with the same dilemma in his own shower. He had tried to work out to sweat the hangover off, but seeing that the twenty minutes of running only worsened his headache, he didn’t take it further than that. It wasn’t really the hangover that was bothering him, it was the feelings he was catching for a woman he had known for less than twenty-four hours.

            Was that what love at first sight was supposed to be like? Sure, it wasn’t exactly at first sight, Tito had only felt a connection with her the second she opened her mouth, not the second he saw her, but what even was the difference at this point? How could he even think of the word love? It was a crush at first sight at best.

            No matter what they told themselves, Tito and Adeline couldn’t stop thinking about each other. Their constant texting the following days didn’t help either. The conversation was never boring enough to die, and when one of them fell asleep they picked up where they left off as soon as they were up in the morning. Sometimes, Adeline found herself giggling out loud because he reminded her of something he just remembered they laughed about when drinking tequila on her living room floor.

            It was Wednesday when Adeline found herself in her bed wishing she could talk to him like they did a few nights prior. There weren’t many boundaries with Tito, they were obviously flirting and open about it, so she didn’t hesitate to tell him she missed seeing him. His name flashed on her screen a second later with a cute picture of his drunk face she didn’t remember taking Saturday night. He was smiling like an idiot, obviously still half laughing, and his blue eyes were sparkling with joy. Adeline hadn’t seen it, but she knew he had one of her too.

“Hello,” she said a little shyly when she saw her face on the screen. She looked like a bit of a mess.

“Hi beautiful,” Tito grinned from his bed, his short hair somehow messed up from the pillow.

“Shut up,” Adeline covered her face with her hand, but he only laughed on the other hand of the line.

“You know, it’s not fair if you get to see me and I don’t,” he reminded her to make her drop her hand. “I missed seeing you too.”

“Mmh, so when are we having a repeat of Saturday night?” She asked him because he had vaguely mentioned making plans during the day.

“Never,” he rolled his eyes. “That headache was killing me. We could do something else, maybe dinner?”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Beauvillier?” Adeline teased, hiding the way her heart jumped in her chest.

“Yeah, how do you feel about it?” His smile was as big as hers when he replied, confident she’d say yes based on the look on her face.

“I feel like I’m free tomorrow night and I’d love to go out.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven?” Tito thought of a restaurant to bring her to immediately, and he made a mental note to call for a reservation in the morning.

“It’s a date.”

.

            Hugging Tito when he came to pick her up felt natural to Adeline. Butterflies erupted in her stomach the second he knocked, and her heart was ready to beat out of her chest when his arms closed around her.

“Hi you,” he kissed her cheek and she just about melted against him.

“Hi,” Adeline greeted him and let go before she made things awkward. “You look nice.” She complimented as she took notice of the navy shirt he was wearing. It matched the blouse she wore tucked in her tweed skirt. August wasn’t too cold in Montreal and she knew she’d be okay with tights.

“Thank you,” he smiled. “You look great too, I like your hair like that.” Tito had to stop himself from reaching up and touching it “Are you ready to go?”

            Adeline murmured a quick thanks and nodded while her cheeks burned. She wasn’t easily intimidated but something about the prospect of a date with Tito was making her nervous. What if they didn’t click now that they were sober and seeing each other in person?

“Hey, everything okay?” Tito asked once they were both sitting in his car and Adeline still hadn’t said a word.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just…” She coughed a little to clear her throat and he finished the sentence for her.

“Nervous?”

“Kind of.”

“Me too,” he admitted and glanced at her for a second, keeping his main focus on the road. “That night was great, I just want everything to live up to those expectations now,”

“I feel the same,” Adeline told him, her nerves settling now that she knew he could relate. “But if we can get along when we’re drunk and stupid we can handle a first date, right?”

“Right, as long as you don’t make me sleep on your living room floor tonight, we’re good,” Tito joked, he could still feel the ache in his back.

“First of all, you passed out on said floor, I didn’t make you. Second, bold of you to assume you’re getting invited in again.” She laughed at him. Thoughts of how the night would end had filled her mind all day long despite all the work she had to get done, but none of the scenarios involved him sleeping at her place yet. It wasn’t that she didn’t want it, but it was far too early for something like that. She didn’t want to risk ruining whatever was between them by rushing in.

“What if I bring fries?” He pushed his luck, but it was all playful, and Adeline shook her head again.

“Nice try, but you’re feeding me before we get home this time,”

“Mmh, I’m sure I’ll figure something out.” He rested his hand on her knee, and she moved a little closer to him until the end of the drive.

            Tito didn’t get invited in that night, and he was okay with it. He would have been okay with anything after the way she kissed him in front of her door. Maybe it was stupid, but he’d never gotten a kiss like that after a date that didn’t end up leading to something more too fast. There was something more between him and Adeline, and this was easily the best kiss of his life.

“Is that too soon?” She had hesitated, her hand on his cheeks and lips less than an inch away from his.

“No,” Tito replied, anything else he might have wanted to say cut off by her kiss. His body melted against hers, his hand pulling her waist closer as they moved their lips slowly, exchanging a passionate yet sweet kiss.

            He replayed the moment in his mind the whole ride home, grinning stupidly and humming along to songs on the radio with renewed cheerfulness. For a while he thought they’d keep kissing in front of her door forever, but noise from a door slamming upstairs reminded them they were still in a corridor. With a few nervous chuckles and one last kiss, Tito had left, and now nothing could ruin his good mood.

       ��    That date was followed by another the next week, and another a few days later, until they were so attached to each other they spent every free second they had together. Tito sometimes showed up to her place in the morning with coffee and a bagel from her favorite café so that he could drive her to work. When it was time for her lunch break he’d pick her up and they’d eat out somewhere.

            Since it was the off season he didn’t have many obligations, and while Adeline insisted he didn’t have to drive her everywhere, Tito just really wanted to. He usually spent the morning in the gym to stay in shape, and he used the afternoon to see some friends and his family. Every other moment was reserved for Adeline only.

            Her internship kept her busy outside of working hours too, but she always managed to make him fit in her schedule and doubled her efforts on some nights to be free during others. It was tough but Adeline’s motivation had never been higher, there was so much happiness in her life that no task seemed too big to accomplish.

            Before meeting him, she’d spend all her free time outside or writing poems, which Tito often said she should still do without him. He didn’t want to take away from her personal space and habits, but she simply shook her head and shut him up with a kiss every time. She had never been more inspired than she was when he was around, and her poems gained in quality and length even with less time spent working on them. They weren’t the work of her brain, but of her heart.

“You got me flowers?” Adeline beamed one evening when he picked her up and she spotted the bouquet in the car.

“I should have hidden it in the back,” Tito sighed at the ruined surprise. “But yeah, I haven’t done that for you before. Do you like them?”

“I love pink gerberas,” she leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

            The rest of the drive was quiet, and when they reached her apartment, Tito got to come inside with her for the first time since they were drunk together. Adeline placed the flowers in a vase at the center of her dinner table and smiled to herself. They matched her coasters; it was her favorite color when it came to flowers. It was only a lucky guess, but Tito really had a way to make her swoon with every little gesture.

“It’s not very big, but let me show you around properly this time,” Adeline had cleaned the previous day and made sure to make her bed in the morning so that she could show him.

            They spent the end of the day together, Adeline cooking for both of them and Tito doing dishes as she cooked to help out. It was nice and comfortable, but they were both more than happy when they could finally crash on the couch together.

“Wanna watch something?” She asked, cuddled against his chest. She could have stayed like that forever, just listening to his heartbeat, but she didn’t want him to get bored.

“Mmh, what are you thinking?” Tito rested a hand in the middle of her back, relaxing into her warmth and the soft comforting smell of her place.

“You pick,” Adeline turned the TV on, picked Netflix and handed him the remote so that he could scroll through what was available.

“TV show or movie?” He took note of the things she was currently watching as he scrolled down, and she shrugged against him.

“Movie?” She decided randomly. Her only thought was that she didn’t want him to leave after just one episode of a TV show.

            It was clear they were attracted to each other, but everything had been so perfect in their relationship so far that neither pushed for dates to end with more than a kiss. Adeline’s work was a lot to handle on some days, and she was exhausted on most nights, so Tito never felt like insisting he should come in, even just to spend the night cuddling. He knew he’d keep her up forever because they could rarely stop talking once they started.

            He picked a movie that looked half decent with her approval, oblivious to the fact that neither of them was planning on watching it anyway. Adeline only wanted to enjoy the feeling of being in his arms like that, and he couldn’t care less about anything in the world as long as he could feel her against him.

“You ever think of how crazy it is that we started getting along so well so fast?” She eventually whispered, wondering if he was one to talk during movies or if he liked watching them without interruption.

            The usual answer would have been without interruption, but Tito was much more interested in Adeline than in the movie that night.

“I do, yeah,” he rubbed motions with his thumb on her back. “And it just makes me glad I found you,”

“I feel good around you,” Adeline lifted her head so that she could look at him for a second, she was met with a soft smile, followed by an even softer kiss.

“Should we…” He panted as she kissed back with a little more purpose. “Should we maybe ditch the movie?” Her lips moved to his cheek and down his jaw, making him bite back a groan until she was leaving kisses on his neck and he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Yes,” she didn’t hesitate in her answer, lifting herself off him.

            Tito got up after her and pulled her back to him for a passionate kiss, both of them stumbling as she tried to step back towards her bedroom. They chuckled against each other before parting long enough to make it there, and the heaviness of the moment settled on them when they finally sat on the bed.

            Adeline got a condom out of her bedside drawer and placed it on the bed so that they wouldn’t have to worry about it later, and as soon as that was done Tito’s lips were back on hers. Feeling him close to her helped her relax, so she followed his guiding hands until she was straddling him and sitting back on his thighs.

            There was no rush to their movements, they made out slowly and let their hands wander to begin exploring each other, over their clothes at first, and then slipping underneath the fabrics. Their shirts were first to go, and the sight of their bodies like that was enough for them both to need a moment to just breathe. When their lips joined and they found themselves chest to chest again, the desire and heat of the kiss grew stronger.

            Tito’s hands were on her waist, caressing softly before trailing up her back and finding the clasp of her bra. He murmured a question between kisses, and the breathy yes he got in response encouraged him to undo the clasp and remove the material from her body.

            His touches were gentle, pulling quiet gasps out of her as soon as he left her lips to kiss over her neck, looking for the tender spots that made her hips roll so close to his. Adeline’s hands were on his chest, discovering every muscle and the way they clenched when he moved to gently push her back on the mattress. She resisted the urge to hide herself from him, and Tito was nothing but loving as he found the spots that made her breathing hitch with the tips of his fingers.

            Her jeans were next to go, her underwear following a second after while she tugged at Tito’s clothes to get him to remove them too. She used the opportunity to get him on his back and kissed her way down his chest, earning a quiet moan that turned her on so much she almost moaned back just from the noise.

“Baby,” Tito breathed out when her lips pressed over the bulge in his boxers. “Not tonight, please,” his chest was rising and falling faster.

“Okay,” she listened and lifted her head to kiss his stomach again instead, but he could still see the silent question in her eyes.

“You’re going to kill me if you do this right now.” He explained as he reversed the position, adjusting her until she was comfortably resting on a pillow.

“That’s why it’s so fun,” Adeline grinned, and he laughed before their lips met again.

            The kiss was a little messier because of how hard it was for them to stop smiling, but everything intensified when Tito’s fingers found a spot high up on her inner thigh that made her whimper into his mouth.

“That okay?” He whispered close to her ear, kissing the spot just underneath it as she gasped her affirmation.

            He didn’t waste another second before slowly sliding two of his fingers against her and rubbing gentle circles over her clit. Adeline clutched his back in response, moaning softly and moving her hips up for more contact. She was overwhelmed by everything about him, from the light scratch of his beard against her skin when he nibbled at her jaw, the warmth of his almost-naked body close to hers, to the incredible feeling of his fingers rubbing against her perfectly.

            Tito held back moans that threatened to come out just from feeling her dripping for him. He kissed her deeply as he slowly slid his fingers further down and inside of her, his thumb replacing them over her clit. The noises she made into his mouth made him roll his hips against the mattress for some relief, and his chest swelled with pride every time he felt her body react to his touch.

            There had been so much anticipation between them, such a long build up and so many kisses that lingered as they both ached for more, that it didn’t take long for Adeline to feel herself get close to the edge. She clutched Tito’s back harder, holding onto him for dear life as she tried to keep her legs still to let him keep going.

            Her moans and gasps sped up when he let go of her lips and opted for kissing her neck instead to let her breathe, and it all encouraged him to pick up his pace, curling his fingers into her sweet spot until he could feel her body trembling. Adeline’s jaw dropped as she came, her legs closing over Tito’s hand, but it didn’t stop him from moving his fingers slowly to ride her through it.

            He was slow to pull his hand away when her body finally relaxed again, peppering kisses over her face. She wanted to bask in the feeling forever, but the second Tito pulled away from her to shuffle his boxers off, a new kind of hunger overtook her. She didn’t give him time to come back on top of her, pushing herself up and straddling him again instead.

            Tito made quick work of the condom before her lips could latch back onto his and they found themselves chest to chest with no barrier between them. Adeline’s legs wrapped around his waist as he grabbed her ass to pull her to him. They stared into each other’s eyes, resting their foreheads together and sometimes letting their noses brush before Tito reached between their bodies and finally placed his tip at her entrance.

            He didn’t break eye contact for a second as he filled her slowly, tightening his grip around her until they were as close as they could get to each other. The kiss they shared let them swallow each other’s moans and groans as they began rocking together, barely pulling away from each other before making their bodies meet again.

            The temperature rose fast in the room, and a thin layer of sweat covered their skin as they clung to each other. Adeline had never felt this close to someone before, and she had to bury her face in his neck to escape the overwhelming intensity of her feelings when she looked into his eyes.

            Tito pulled her even closer at that, grinding against her and softly moaning every time she clenched around him. He was right on the edge, trying to hold back to get her to come one last time, but everything about her felt like heaven to him. His lips found her shoulder, leaving a few kisses there as he felt himself lose control, his thighs clenching hard while his teeth lightly dug into her skin.

            His pleasured groan got Adeline to fall apart right after him, her body tightening beautifully in his arms as the noises leaving her lips echoed his. They breathed heavily against each other, remaining still for a few minutes and just letting themselves enjoy the afterglow close together.

            Tito pulled away first, carefully letting her down on the bed and kissing her one last time before heading to her bathroom to dispose of the condom. She took a turn in there to clean up right after him, and as soon as she was back in bed, she cuddled close to his chest again.

“Was that okay?” He kissed the top of her head, and her chest shook with a chuckle.

“That wasn’t okay,” Adeline shuffled up so that they could be face to face. “It was amazing,”

“Yeah?” He beamed and she nodded, angling her head to ask for another kiss.

            Tito gave in easily, humming against her lips while she guided him onto his back and rested her forearms on his torso to look at him.

“I’m falling in love with you,” she breathed out without hesitation, looking straight into his eyes and watching them widen as soon as he processed the words.

“I’m falling in love with you too,” he managed to answer even with the breath knocked out of his lungs. “I’m falling so hard.”

.

            Their honeymoon phase lasted as long as Tito’s time in Montreal did.

She even met his parents one weekend, and a few of his friends through the weeks. It was all too perfect until his last week before having to get back to New York came along.

“What’s going to happen when you’re in New York?” Adeline addressed it as they walked in a park together on his last Monday in Montreal, her hand in his. It was late and a little cold, but the darkness was calm.

“I’m not sure,” Tito swallowed heavily, looking straight ahead because there was no good solution. “I just… I want whatever’s best for you,”

“You’re what’s best for me, I don’t want to lose you.” Her hand slipped from his as they stopped walking and turned to face each other.

            Adeline searched his eyes for an answer, but her fears kept growing with every passing moment. The feelings she had for Tito were unlike anything she ever experienced before, and she was terrified of seeing their relationship end. It was the last thing she could ever want, but he had to make the best decision for his career.

“Then I’m yours,” he reached out and grasped both of her hands in his, bringing them up to kiss her knuckles. “I know not everyone can handle long distance but… but we can’t know until we try, right?”

“Right,” she exhaled her relief and squeezed his hands tighter.

“And New York isn’t the other side of the world, we can see each other on weekends,” Tito continued, trying to work things out in his head and reassure her as well as he could.

“Weekends work,” Adeline nodded, biting back a wave of tears, but her eyes watered anyway.

“Baby, please don’t,” he cupped her face with both hands and ran his thumbs over her cheeks while she wrapped her arms around him. “I know work will make it hard for you to travel, but I’ll come up as often as I can, okay?”

“Yeah,” she hid her face into his chest and took a deep breath to calm down. Nothing soothed her better than being close to him.

“We’ll make it work. I promise.” He rocked her gently from side to side in his arms. “I love you too much to ever let you go.”

“I really- I didn’t think it was possible for me to fall in love like that.” Adeline kissed over his heart, making him tighten his arms around her.

“Me neither, and I know it won’t be easy every day, but it’s all going to be worth it, yeah?” Tito tilted her face up so that their noses brushed.

“Loving you makes it all worth it.” She whispered, closing her eyes and falling for him harder with every press of his lips against hers.

.

            The first month was easy.

They had just spent so much time together that it didn’t feel like the distance would ever be an issue, Tito came up to Montreal for three days, and despite all her work Adeline managed to visit one weekend too.

            Sweet attentions helped them push through too, Adeline sent him letters with handwritten poems in them, things he inspired and she thought were worth sharing. Tito sent her flowers and so many loving good morning texts that there was no way she’d ever wake up and start her day without feeling like the luckiest woman in the world.

            Their time together was a little hectic, a mix of dates to spend quality time together and just staying in bed without letting go of each other unless it was for a few hours of sleep in between. The rhythm was tiring, no matter how close New York and Montreal were, travelling was exhausting. It meant waking up early to go to the airport and have enough time to get through security, and it also meant getting home late at the end of the trip with an early morning start right after.

            Still, they were in love and they made it work.

When Christmas came around they felt like they were pros at handling their relationship. Adeline took days off to come spend time in New York so that she could see more of Tito’s world and finally meet Mat, and he came back to Canada for Christmas with his family.

            They didn’t spend the holidays together per say, but they saw each other so often that it felt like they did anyway. Every important moment was spent together, Adeline came over to his house on Christmas morning to open gifts and have lunch with his parents, and Tito spent New Year’s Eve at a party her friends organized. They got to exchange a sickeningly sweet kiss just as the year started and whispered their promise to love each other forever.

            When hockey became a priority again and Tito had to leave, everything felt bittersweet. The moments they had together felt like they were stolen, something they had to work for because nothing fit in their lives unless they forced it to. There was never a weekend when they could both be free unless Adeline managed to figure out a way to get a break from work, and even when she had things to do, Tito still flew up to see her during the moments she had to spare over two days. His games were getting more important, and the team was already dealing with injuries, so he was having a hard time handling everything without letting anyone down.

            Their relationship was strong, but when March rolled around neither of them was truly happy.

“You’re exhausted,” Adeline pointed out something she had been noticing more and more every time he visited. Now, the dark circles under his eyes were visible even through the shitty quality of their call.

“I’m alright,” Tito lied again to stop her from worrying and gave her a weak smile. “You think you’ll be free next weekend?”

“There’s no way you’re travelling again next weekend,” she shook her head, refusing to ask him to put so much effort in again when he clearly needed the rest.

“Well can you come down?” He broke it down to what he thought was simple. If she could move, she’d come visit him. If she couldn’t, he’d come visit her.

“No, I’m stuck this month, I told you,” Adeline sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. Her internship was getting closer to its end and the prospect of a job was real, so she was being drowned in extra work so that she could prove she deserved to stay. As much as she wanted to see Tito to be able to relax in his arms, she knew his training was even more intense than what she had to do.

“Then I’m coming to you,” he insisted again, so Adeline sharpened her tone.

“The hell you are.” She gave him the glare he had received many times before. It was the one that told him ‘I love you but you’re being an idiot,’ and if things were normal, Tito would have laughed and agreed with whatever she wanted.

“So you don’t want to see me now?” He got offended instead, unable to understand why she wouldn’t want him to come. He was doing everything he could to make things work, no matter what.

“Not in that state!” She shot back, feeling tears brimming in her eyes. She was calmer as she spoke her next words. “Tito please, just get some rest… I miss you like hell all the time, but this… it’s not worth it. I’d rather see you a little less and in better shape, okay? We can facetime every night this week or something to make up for it if you want,”

“It’s not the same as holding you,” Tito’s emotions settled too, as defeated as he felt, she was right.

“I know champ, but you’ve got to take care of yourself. Get some rest, okay?”

She made him promise he’d slow down, but Tito didn’t last long. He figured that if he trained extra hard by going to the gym earlier and spent more time on the ice then he’d deserve to spend his days off with her.

Everything was going in the opposite direction of what she asked, but he couldn’t let himself rest if it meant he wouldn’t see her.

“Wake the fuck up!” Anders slammed into him on the ice and sent him stumbling a few feet away. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Tito gritted his teeth, anger clear in his features.

            The captain muttered something under his breath as he skated away, hoping this would be enough to get him to concentrate until the end of the practice at least. It was the third time in a row he missed a pass to Mat, something that almost never happened. The two best friends had chemistry even on the ice, they worked well together, but Anthony was fucking everything up lately and the team wouldn’t take it for much longer.

“Alright,” Anders stood in front of him in the locker room once everyone else was gone and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,”

“Beau,” His captain gave him a look. “You’re a good player, but you haven’t played right in two weeks at practice. Thank fuck you’re still alright when we have games, but how long is that gonna last, uh?”

“I’m not going to let the team down.” Anthony promised, and the other man sighed.

“I know you don’t want to, so get your shit together. It’d be a waste to have you sitting on a bench during every game, especially because of some girl,” Anders made his point and watched him get offended, his voice rising as he spoke again.

“Adeline is-”

“I don’t care what Adeline is.” Anders snapped to cut him off. “Adeline is not here, and she’s not worth ruining a career over. If you don’t start showing some proper skills you won’t be playing next time there’s an important game. I need to know I can count on you to be part of the team.”

“You can count on me.” Tito’s jaw was clenched, he was angry, but now was not a good time to lash out. He knew the threat was real, and Anders was probably doing him a favor having this talk with him now rather than letting him get ripped apart by coaches.

“Then start by getting some sleep. You look like shit.” His captain concluded, dropping his arms by his side and walking out of the room, leaving Anthony alone with his thoughts.

.

            Tito tried his best to fix himself over the next week. He got a smile from Anders when things finally went right at practice, and everyone on the team felt relief when they realized they were getting their player back. Everyone thought things were fine except Mat.

            He could see past the fake smiles; he could see the hurt in his friend’s eyes when he came to hang out with the team on Saturday nights instead of flying to Montreal to be with the woman he so desperately loved. It wasn’t healthy.

            Even when Mat tried to start a conversation he got shut out, Tito wasn’t sharing much with anyone anymore. He was the shell of the player and friend he used to be, so lost in his love for Adeline that he didn’t even realize he was forgetting parts of himself.

“Adeline?” Mat eventually ended up on the phone with her, half of his brain screaming this was the stupidest thing to do and the other half saying it was the only solution. He didn’t want to get in his best friend’s business, but he at least needed to know what was going on on her end.

“Yeah, what’s up Mat?” She took a break from the chapter of the novel she was editing and pushed her chair away from her desk.

“I’m just- I’m sorry I’m calling, I know it’s fucked, but Tito isn’t talking to me and I’m wondering if you’ve heard a lot from him the past few days?”

“Yeah, he’s always texting or calling. Did you guys have a fight or something?” Adeline frowned. Not talking to Mat wasn’t normal, ever since she met Tito she’d been hearing all about his best friend and how well they got along. She also would have expected Tito to mention it to her if something happened.

“No, I mean, yeah. Sort of. He’s been playing like shit at practice, so Anders tried to knock some sense into him, and not very kindly,” Mat explained with a sigh, which only made her worry more.

“Oh. What does that have to do with you?” She asked so that she could finally connect the dots, and the response she got was not what she had expected.

“Well Anders said something about how he shouldn’t let some girl fuck up a whole career, and, uh, it was a shitty thing to say, so I tried to put it more nicely, and he didn’t like it.”

“Right,” she looked down at her lap and fiddled with the hem of her skirt. Was that how the team felt about her? Like she was some girl messing with one of their best players? And if so, wasn’t it her responsibility to make sure she didn’t interfere with his career?

“You’re not fucking up anything, it’s not what I meant,” he quickly caught himself. “But Tito’s just… he’s not himself lately. He’s pretending he’s okay but the travelling back and forth is seriously getting to him, he’s not sleeping, he’s just a mess. It’s bad for the team, and he’s my best friend, I’m worried about him,” Mat was quiet as he spoke the end of his sentence, and she was glad he couldn’t see her.

“I just… I’m not sure what I can do about that Mat,” Adeline felt the tears brimming in her eyes, because she knew.

There was only one way to fix this, and she had been avoiding it for weeks already. The day Tito left Montreal they promised each other they’d do anything to make things work, that they’d never stop trying, but was this promise more important than his health?

“Can you try to talk to him, please? Just make him rest for one weekend,” Mat brought her back to earth as he asked, as if that was all Anthony needed. It would be a start, but it was far from enough. He was already staying in New York most of the time, and it was barely helping.

“I keep telling him to stay home,” she reminded him while pressing her palms over her eyes.

“So he’s not listening to you either?” Mat’s heart deflated at that. He knew his best friend was stubborn, but he didn’t think he’d turn away every attempt you all made to get him to take care of himself.

“No… I’d come if I could, but work doesn’t really allow it right now. I’ll try to get him to stay in New York for the next two weeks, hopefully I’ll get somewhere by talking to him,” Adeline promised herself to make more efforts, to give it one more try in case that was all they needed to make things work again.

“Okay,” he fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt, hoping that by the end of those two weeks things would look a bit better.

“Are you thinking of anything else?” She prompted him after he turned quiet, and Mat sighed.

“No, you’re… you were really good for him at the start, you know?” He delved into the part he probably shouldn’t be saying out loud, but he needed her to understand how bad things were. “It made him so happy, and I know you guys are still happy together, but with the way things are right now, he’s messing himself up. Badly. It’s not your fault, I just hope you guys can find a balance that works for you both again.”

“I’ll figure it out, have a nice day Mat,” Adeline put an end to the conversation, and he rubbed his hand over his face as he sighed.

“Yeah, you too.”

.

            When Tito called her less than twenty minutes later, he couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to talk. Adeline declined his call after the second ring and told him she’d call later even though they had planned on talking to each other at that time. Her lack of texts and explanations made him overthink everything, so when Mat and a few other guys showed up to his place an hour later, he wasn’t in the mood to hang out anymore.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Mat told him when he expressed his concern. “Just have a beer and chill out,”

“You can’t be sure she’s fine,” Tito argued as he grabbed the beer and took three long gulps.

“I talked to her for a bit today, so she’s fine. She’ll probably call you tomorrow, yeah?” Mat let the information slip because he figured it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Adeline was bound to tell him at some point anyway.

“You talked to her?” Tito frowned, the information not sitting well with him. Mat barely knew Adeline; they hadn’t gotten many chances to hang out because Tito always hogged her attention whenever she was around.

“Uh, yeah,” Mat was suddenly more than uncomfortable. He didn’t want to lie to his friend, but with the way he was reacting he felt like he would have been much better off keeping his mouth shut.

“And now she’s not picking up my calls.” Anthony grew suspicious, and the look on Mat’s face didn’t reassure him in the least. “What the fuck did you say to her?”

“I just told her I’m worried about you, you’re not yourself lately.” He admitted, feeling like being honest was the best option.

Tito didn’t lose his cool easily, but somehow this made him angry.

“Can’t you all stop with that? I’m fine.” He replied harshly, and Mat kept his mouth shut.

He thought for a second looking at the wall ahead of him and nodding. Mat was done fighting, he had offered his help, he was there to listen, but he wasn’t going to sit and let Anthony get mad at him when he was only trying to show he cared.

“Yeah, right.” Mat got up and headed out of the room, abandoning him to his thoughts.

            Tito sighed and checked his phone to distract himself, knowing he had to get out there and apologize in a minute or two. A text from Adeline caught his attention, and his mood lifted instantly.

I’ll be in New York tomorrow

            He almost screamed right there, but he bit his lip and contained his smile instead as he typed back.

For real?? What time am I picking you up?

            He had been feeling so off, he couldn’t wait to hold her. It had been too long since he got to see her and it was hard for him to hide his excitement.

I’ll just meet you at your place

            The response Tito received made his heart deflate. Something was wrong. He always picked her up from the airport, he’d done it every single time, so why shouldn’t he do it tomorrow? Between his conversation with Mat and that, the uneasiness he had felt since the declined call only increased.

“You okay?” Brassard asked as he walked out of the kitchen.

“Sorry, I’m just not in the mood tonight,” he walked past everyone and went straight for his bedroom, closing the door and locking it so no one could come bother him.

            It wasn’t fair to shut his friends out like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Nothing mattered anymore, he was in a constant state of numbness when he was in New York. Playing hockey helped, the games put him in the right mindset, but as soon as he stepped off the ice his world fell apart all over again.

            Adeline was the only thing keeping him together, but she was also the reason he was being torn apart. She had watched it happen too, she saw the way it started, his sudden disinterest for anything that wasn’t hockey or her, the sadness she caused and tried to fix so hard. She thought that with more time together their time apart would be easier, but nothing she did helped Tito work it out. Their relationship had been rushed, they fell in love and their feelings for each other became an obsession, one Anthony couldn’t manage anymore.

            He was only happy when she was with him, but even then parts of himself were missing.

            Mat and the other guys left soon after he disappeared, giving up for the night and deciding they’d try to spend time with him another day. Anthony was too stubborn, there was no point in them staying. He didn’t care about what was going on that night, he couldn’t think of anything except Adeline.

            Just one night of sleep, one day of work and she’d be in his arms.

            Tito was in his head and time flew by, so when he made it home the next night he was constantly checking his phone to know where she was. She texted when she landed, so he was waiting close to the door when he knew she was about to arrive.

            The front door was open before she was even out of the elevator.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Tito let her walk in and pulled her into a hug to take in the sweet scent of her perfume. His eyes fell shut as he finally felt his body relax. Adeline was the remedy to everything in his life, nothing felt better than having her close.

“Tito,” she pulled away a little as she spoke, trying to put some distance between them.

“Mmh?” He kept his hands on her waist, tugging her against him because he wasn’t ready to part from the hug just yet.

“Anthony, stop,” she pushed on his shoulders and took a step back. “I’m here because I need to talk to you.”

“What’s going on?” Tito frowned at the use of his full name. Deep down, he had known for days that something was coming, but now that he had to face it he didn’t feel prepared enough at all.

            A heaviness settled over the room, the usual playful and happy atmosphere of their reunions nowhere to be found.

“I don’t think we should be doing this anymore.” Adeline said, her hands linked together in front of her.

            The words hung in the air for several seconds. There was an apologetic look in her eyes as she waited for Tito to react, his expression going from shock, to panic, and to confusion all within a few seconds. He had expected her to want to talk, to ask for a break from things at worst.

This was something he had never considered.

“What?” He whispered, unable to form a word any louder than that.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’re not happy like this,” she felt her heart break as he stammered to start a sentence. He looked exhausted, there were dark circles under his eyes, and now his features were twisted in pain.

“Adeline, don’t. You- you don’t know what you’re saying, I’m fine, and-” Tito struggled to say anything coherent, he spoke too fast, but he was scared that if he didn’t say anything she’d vanish.

“You’re not fine. You’re not in the right headspace to train because you’re always thinking of how to get away from New York, you’re not focusing on what should matter to you the most and you’re making yourself sick because you’re not sleeping,” Adeline shook her head, looking down to avoid crying. She couldn’t take the look in his eyes, they used to be so full of joy, but now the blue was dulled by tears that blurred his vision.

“I am sleeping,” he croaked weakly and reached for her.

“That’s not the point!” She stepped back to dodge his touch. She wasn’t strong enough to fight him on this for long, he held too much power over her, she’d cave in no time if she let him touch her. “This was never the point. You were right, not everyone can do long distance and we couldn’t know unless we tried. Now we know, it’s not working out.” She swallowed back her sob and took a shaky breath in to calm down.

“Adeline, please,” Tito shook his head, teardrops rolling down his cheeks already. “No, please,” he didn’t know what else to do but beg.

“I’m sorry,” she looked up. As hard as it was, he deserved at least that, but the broken look in his eyes made her fall apart.

“No! You’re the love of my life, I can’t just let you go,” he refused to go down without a fight, not when she was the only woman he had ever loved. He saw his entire life with her, they could have everything together, and he couldn’t let it go so easily.

“You have to. I’m asking you to.” Adeline wiped her thumbs underneath her eyes to catch her tears. She knew he’d respect her decision, no matter how much he hated it, because he always respected boundaries. She just had to tell him she didn’t want him anymore, and that was the hardest part, having to lie to protect him. “This isn’t healthy for you, and frankly, it’s not healthy for me either. I’m always on my phone, I can barely focus on work because I’m wondering when you’ll be free to call, I’m going to sleep so fucking late every time we call and I just… I just can’t keep doing this any longer knowing it’s hurting you.” She explained, and he used that time to settle his breathing.

“We can work through a rough patch,” his voice was a little raspy, but he pushed through. “I’ll… I’ll stay in New York for longer periods, and we can schedule calls so that it’s not as messy,” Tito brought up every solution he could think of, but she already knew they were pointless.

“You’re making this so hard,” Adeline sniffled quietly, glancing down at her feet again. “I’m sorry, but I’m not changing my mind.”

“So that’s just… it?” He felt like he’d just received a punch to the stomach. Adeline looked up as he took a step back, shaking his head a little and looking completely lost.

“I guess,” she whispered, her lower lip trembling.

“I’m in love with you, isn’t that worth trying a little bit harder?” Tito couldn’t believe the feelings settling inside his chest. He was slowly processing every word she had said, and there were so many things wrong with this conversation. What happened to their promise?

“You think I haven’t tried hard enough? You think I haven’t tried my fucking hardest?” Adeline let the tears flow down her cheeks, and her chest shook with a sob, but she fought to keep her voice steady.

“Well you’re the one giving up now!” He clenched his jaw, sniffling loudly and tugging at his hair in despair. The hurt had kicked in, and he was angry now.

“Because you’re not okay! And I had to find out from your best friend because you keep lying to me and you’re not taking care of yourself!” She raised her voice to his level, and he scoffed, pacing around his living room.

“Mat doesn’t fucking know what I’m doing, if I’m saying I can handle it, then I can handle it!” Tito was sick of everyone around him telling him how to feel and what to do. Focus, train harder, take a break, sleep, travel, don’t travel, call me, don’t call me, spend time with friends, call your family. It was all too much, and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mat just asked me to check up on you, and he was right, you’re not fine, and I’m the reason you keep getting worse. I just can’t do this anymore,” Adeline’s voice softened to hide the way it cracked halfway through, but he caught it anyway.

“Fucking great.” He bit his cheek to stop himself from breaking down. Watching her like this, the woman he loved more than anything in the world, was destroying him. She felt the pain too, and he was causing it.

“You’re angry, and I get it,” Adeline took a deep breath in and dropped her hands by her sides, wondering when he’d snap. She was the one giving up, so she was ready to take it. “I’m so sorry, this isn’t how I pictured things going between us... I’ll just go… I’m really sorry.” She turned around, ready to walk out so that she could break down somewhere he wouldn’t see her.

            It was better if he was mad at her, his anger was much easier to handle than the look he first gave her.

“Adeline wait,” Tito crossed the room in two long strides and wrapped his hand around her arm before she could reach the door.

“What are you-” Adeline turned around to face him and he released her arm to hold her waist instead.

“Just one more.” He murmured with his lips so close to hers she could already feel how soft they were through a brush. “Please, just one last night,”

            He kissed her to stop her from replying, to stop her from thinking rationally, and to fucking beg her to give him this last thing. Adeline wasn’t strong enough to pull away. Instead, she melted into his touch and responded to the kiss with a passion fueled by her heart falling into pieces.

            Just one last time, she told herself as she kept on kissing him, blindly letting him walk back to his bedroom.

            They could taste the saltiness of their tears as they moved their lips together, tangled in each other with her straddling him and her legs around his waist, just like they had been the first night they were together like that. They didn’t exchange any words, kissing and hiding their faces whenever they had to so that they wouldn’t see the other breaking inside.

It was all too much and not enough, so when Tito kept her tight against his chest to lay in bed, Adeline didn’t fight him. She closed her eyes and bit back tears, pretending she wasn’t about to leave so that he would let himself fall asleep.

Tito was safe with her so close, his grip was tight, he wasn’t ever letting her go. It was what he told himself as he drifted off to sleep, telling himself they’d talk in the morning, that he’d find a way to convince her they could still fix things.

.

            Adeline felt like her heart was being torn apart when she crawled out of his arms in the early hours of the morning. She hadn’t slept for a second, but she couldn’t bring herself to get up. For a moment, she even thought she should stay. What if Tito was right? What if he could stay in New York for more time? They could schedule the calls like he said to make things easier.

The idea disappeared from her mind with every moment she spent looking at him, fast asleep in his bed when he used to always wake up whenever she moved. There were dark circles under his eyes, he was exhausted, and she was only making it worse. Leaving was the only way.

Adeline grabbed as much of her things as she could carry and got dressed in the living room as quietly as possible, but with how hard she was crying she was surprised none of her sobs had woken Tito up yet. A few of her things were still in his room, but it was nothing she desperately needed back, and if she woke him up she’d never be able to leave. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from going into his bedroom to look at him one more time.

He was so beautiful when he slept, so peaceful and relaxed. Adeline wished she could see him smile one more time, just to be able to admire the spark in his eyes whenever he did. She knew that if he woke up they’d only be filled with sadness and fear, all because of her, so she took a deep breath and scribbled one last thing on a post it note, placing it on her pillow before leaving his apartment silently.

.

            An hour later the sun was up, and Tito was shaking as he woke up. He sat up immediately to grab the cold bed sheets on her side of the bed. It all felt like a nightmare. The bedroom was silent apart from his heavy breathing, and he turned his light on before looking around for any sign she was still here.

            After they held each other so tightly during the night, the way they loved each other, how could she have left? Tears stung in his eyes as he took notice of everything in his room. Her clothes were gone from the floor, her notebook wasn’t on the nightstand, and he could see his closet cracked open with two empty shelves. Her shelves.

            Tito’s heart tightened in his chest as the reality of the situation hit him. His body was tense but he couldn’t move. His whole world was falling apart, he was completely lost, scrambling for something, anything he could hold onto.

He found it in a single blue post-it note on his pillow, her pretty cursive handwriting recognizable easily.

I’m sorry,

A

.

Please reblog and let me know what you thought!! Writing is a lot of time and effort, I appreciate all comments, asks and reblogs more than you know <3

[homesteadchronicles]

Original Writing Excerpt: “To Me”

Hello, my homies! I have an unexpected piece of writing to share with you all today, one not related to my known WIPs. Instead, this comes from the world I detailed here, one I’ve now been given permission to flesh out into a full-fledged story.

You don’t need to know the world in order to read, but I’ve provided the necessary context below in order to dive on in!

CHARACTERS:

Ero “Del’Gris” Idess: An intergalactic music idol in service to her agent, Kiladian Wellthane, who enlists her help in exposing his enemies’ corruption. Yoselle of the Starsea (”Ghost”): Ero’s bodyguard and long-time employee of Kiladian Wellthane whose unspoken feelings for Ero grieve him.

CONTEXT:

Ero and Yoselle have been dispatched by Kiladian to the Polaris Nightclub in order to secure information on the corrupt CEO of a pharmaceutical empire. When Ero botches her mission, she seeks comfort from a source both she and her target know can only lead to complications.

THE EXCERPT:

You are a specter: ethereal, immaterial, insignificant. She is a spotlight: illuminating, enticing, unyielding. These two halves cannot hold one another. These pieces fit different puzzles. But she needs something to elucidate and you did not hallucinate her invitation to centerstage. Still you skirt around the sidelines, flirting with shadows, fearful of exposure. She stands, a beacon in the clubhouse, awaiting your answer.

You refuse to reply.

Polaris, you convince yourself, requires better surveillance than the shoddy bodyguards provide it. Expensive liquor, lavish decor, and a distinct lack of security – the omen of emergencies. It was everything you loathed and Ero loved.

She didn’t seem to mind now, not that she ever had before. Why would she? She has you. Needs you. Wants you, a part of you thinks, hopes, refutes. Ero plays her role without shame. Flattery reserved a permanent space in her mouth and her lips make use of their eternal inhabitant to elicit information even when her hips were in motion.

Your place lies elsewhere. Astride. Afar. Procurer and protector both had their parts to play. Separately.

Then why does she keep staring at me?

It is your fifth circuit around the dance floor when you notice her attraction attention. Her gaze ought to be on your target, on Gentarou Hongou, on the mastermind of a corrupt pharmaceutical company. Her hand would bat his chest as her lashes bat her cheeks and he would indulge her as everyone always did. Their mission depended on his entanglement. Did she expect to seduce him with a half-given gaze?

Either Ero or Gentarou comes to the same conclusion, as she discreetly excuses herself to evacuate the floor and he does not even bother watching as she goes. You give chase, coming to a heel behind her as she reaches the dancing’s edge. Stress tugs her brows together. She has disappointed her target. Disappointed herself. Worse, you realize, she has disappointed Kiladian.

“You’re off your game,” you note. A comment and a question intermingle therein, indiscernible.

Ero maneuvers through the crowd with angered grace. Each foot falls just shy of stepping on another’s toes, the click of her heels on the metal beneath like a tongue snapping against bared teeth. “Hongou’s harder than I thought,” she mumbles, “and not in the way I need him to be.”

The bar comes quickly into focus as you follow her. It’s going to be a long night.

Ero glides into the shaky comfort of a barstool. Before you can intercept, she has the bartender concocting something with a name you won’t remember for a price you cannot fathom. Ero’s erratic when inebriated and adamant when infuriated – not a winning combo for their cause.

She beckons you over with a caress of the empty seat beside her and you stiffen. Your place is beneath behind her. But, for a moment, weariness cracks her mask and the lonely soul inside creeps out. “Ghost,” she drawls. Her fingers walk up your chestplate, eyes unblinking in unspoken expectation, and you will indulge her as you always have. “To me.”

The seat is filled before you can stop yourself.

Two drinks slide along the countertop and stop in front of them, one a glittering gray encrusted with crystal and the other a dusty yellow clouded by rising mist. Ero cradles the latter before acknowledging the former. “Oops. Looks like I ordered one too many.” Her tone holds no remorse, only mischief. She nudges the glass towards you. “Guess someone ought to keep me sober.”

You can’t deny that. Deny her. You drink.

Each sip is a burning kiss to your lips, searing all the way down until the sweetness kicks in thereafter. It’s easier to forget the sting when the aftertaste settles in. You swallow again. Again. Again, until you learn to love the flames, too.

Ero only toys with her order. It’s not her usual selection, not her Nightfire. The glass in front of her holds Del’Gris’ favorite - all flash and fruitiness - but no bite. Which means she believes the show must go on. Which means Del’Gris gets an encore.

You need to navigate this delicately. “Hongou gave you the slip?”

“He may as well have. Kiladian’s information was off – Hongou’s not involved.”

“You’re sure?”

Ero dips her head as if to nod before it droops in defeat. “Honestly? I don’t know. Making heads or tails of the man is more complicated than making eyes at him.” She retrieves the cherry inside her drink and rips it clean off the stem. “I’m not myself tonight.”

“That’s not true.” The words slip out before you can subdue them. An unfortunate error, but Ero appraises you with wide-eyed surprise and you wonder whether it was a blessing in disguise. “You were not Del’Gris tonight, true. Del’Gris holds every man captive in her grasp. But you were Ero tonight – and any glimpse behind the curtain is enough to fluster a lesser man like Hongou.”

Ero twists your words around in her mind like the stem she knots in her mouth. When she pulls the stem free, her answer spills out too. “You know me too well.”

Not as much as I’d like, you think. Still not enough to keep you safe. It is an unbidden - but honest - admission. Not one Ero would adhere to half-plastered and wholly penitent. You settle for “well enough to know when you’re not well.”

She scoffs into her cup, a bitter laugh against sweet liquor. “Can’t get any worse”. Ero raises her hand and requests another round of liquid courage: Nighfire on the rocks. It’s a slow burn, she told you once, reeking of booze and other bodies, just the way I like it.

You hadn’t liked it. Hadn’t liked the way her hair ensnared your shoulders, encircling you in her scent as you scraped her offstage. Hadn’t liked the lingering kindling of body heat. Hadn’t liked how much you dreamt of her touch afterwards.

The bartender brings her his poison and she tips it back in one go. Tipsy, but standing, Ero advances towards the dance floor. “Well, if our mission’s botched, must as well bust a move.” Half-lidded eyes hone in on you. “Don’t make me do it alone.”

There’s a plea beneath that tease, but the implications complicate your reaction. To stay would be wise. To go would be wine, a gradual inebriation, a delight today and a mistake tomorrow. A slow burn.

Noticing your hesitance, knowing your heart’s a mess, she approaches. “I’m not the only one unwell,” Ero whispers. Her tender denouncement strangles your judgment. “But we both have to choose health.”

She steps away. The crowd begins to swallow her, enclosing on all sides. Ero extends her hand to you. “Ghost,” she calls out. Her fingers curl inwards, a gambler clutching their stake. “To me.”

Your hand finds hers before you can stop yourself.

Polaris’ patrons shove you deeper into the throng of hedonism. Writhing bodies surround you on all sides, ushering you and Ero closer, closer, closer along to the beat of a song. You can’t make it out – not over the beat of your heart. 

But Ero can. She leans into you, giggles sending shockwaves against your skin, and it’s then you realize: the woman on the soundtrack is Del’Gris, but the one in your arms is Ero.

In my arms. The thought locks into place before you can register that your arms are, in fact, around her. Mechanically? Yes. Uncomfortably? Undoubtedly. Neither of you seem to mind, if the way she slides her hands around your neck and nuzzles into its crook is any evidence. 

Then again, you always were the problem. After all, what right have you to hold her after haunting her for so long?

“You’re overthinking it,” Ero says. You’re not the only one who knows the other too well. “Maybe I ought to take the lead.”

You both laugh at that, at yourselves, at everything that your twisted lives have led to because if you don’t laugh, you might both break. Then again, at least you’d crumble into one another.

Ero only leans back and leads on. Your hands keep her feet aloft, her back aligned. This imperfect rhythm, this imbalancing act, leaves you both in synchronized breathlessness.

Neon lights illuminate your mingling skin in a patchwork of discordant colors. They rise to wreath Ero in a heathen’s halo: green envy, violet ire, scarlet lust. The crowd around exalts her alias - “Del’Gris! Del’Gris! Del’Gris” - but Ero has only ever worshipped you.

Always the star, you muse, and I am but the planet trapped in orbit.

“They’re calling for their queen,” you tease.

“They’re calling for Del’Gris,” she clarifies, “but I believe someone requested Ero.”

“You must have heard a ghost.”

Whatever impish inclinations Ero might otherwise maintain were exorcised in an instant. Seriousness seats itself in place of playfulness, mouth thin and eyes taut. Her hand rises to graze his cheek. “Ghost you may be to everyone else, but you’re always Yoselle to me.”

You have been brutalized by mobsters, held for ransom by hitmen, and crushed by an atmospheric crucible more times than you can count, but nothing has ever taken hold of your heart half as hard as that. “I never mind playing the specter if it means shadowing you.” And it’s true. You would spend the rest of your days in obscurity if it meant skirting around her radiance.

But Ero has never been one to settle for second best.

“Oh, is that so?” That ruinous mischief reclaims her lilting smile as she presses herself inward, upward. “In that case,” she whispers and her breath is a phantom promise against your lips. “Ghost, to me.”

Your mouth finds hers before you can stop yourself.

[diary-of-an-onliner]

feet on the ground [f.w.]

word count: 3381

warnings: none

a/n: this is based on, and a counterpart/continuation of @ickle-ronniekins 's head in the clouds — thanks for the inspo babe, this one is for you

Fred Weasley was not happy. Sure, he had made a lot of questionable, or as other people like to say 'bad', decisions in his life, but taking Care of Magical Creatures was one of the worst. Yes, it made Hagrid ecstatic, and that's always a good thing to see; yes, it's useful for his future business. However a hellfire-cracken the size of a shoebox was making him rethink his choices.

For the lack of a better distraction, he focused on digging a hole in the grass with his trainer as Hagrid’s rumbled instructiones flew over his head, missing both ears and zooming away into an indifferent oblivion. George is taking this already, he looked to George, who was quite enchanted with his partner, and thoroughly enjoying it, couldn't we have split up? He kicked the dirt lightly, startling the girl next to him.

Neither Fred nor his Slytherin partner were thrilled with each other,but misery loves company, so it might be for the best.

"How's the weather up there?" said his partner, who was crouching eye — er, shell-level, with the creature, but keeping her distance nonetheless. Her hair waved and flickered on her shoulder as she bounced on her heels.

"Immaculate, thanks for asking." he said, not wanting to get closer to the scorpion-lobster lovechild from the asshole of hell. "Y'know Hagrid said those things burn, bite, and sting, right?"

"So do I.” she said sarcastically, still keeping her gaze tied to the monster. “I'm not going to touch it, I'm just looking. You're aware we need to sketch it, label its parts and write an essay about it later?" Fred shifted his weight from foot to foot restlessly.

"Yes." his nostrils flared.

She pursed her lips and, after a moment of silence, said: "I dare you to touch it."

He crossed his arms. "I am not taking dares from you. We met three minutes ago and I haven't enjoyed a second of it."

"What's up your ass?" she turned to him, still crouching. "Actually, I don't care. Just don't take it out on me." The creature clicked their — tail? — pincers? — their something.

"I wasn't—" she raised an eyebrow and he fell silent, and looked away.

"'m not very thrilled to be here." he mumbled. "And that ugly death trap isn't making it better. Can we start over?" he asked, sighing and tiredly sweeping his left hand through his hair, and offering his right to her.

She took it and pulled herself up, then promptly smoothed out her skirt, shook his still proffered hand, and introduced herself.

Unlike his messy untucked shirt, her uniform was pressed down to the socks and her shoes held no traces of mud. It gave her a calculating, and slightly cold aura, as if she was drawn with a set of rulers and a compass. She was probably more geometrical than anyone who had ever taken Care of Magical Creatures.

"Fred." he said, even though she knew.

"Well Fred, we will be working together on this Blast-Ended Skrewt for the next few weeks, so that 'ugly death trap’ is our son you're talking about." she chided with a smile that better belonged on a sly fox rather than a girl.

"You sound very attached to it." he shot back. An idea, a thought, a silver of a notion that this might be fun slithered along the floor of his skull.

"Him.” She corrected with her pointer finger in the air. “And it's called being a good parent." she lightly jabbed him in the chest.

"Okay then. Go pet your son." Fred smirked.

They turned toward the beast which was playing in the grass like a puppy. It seemed to be wiggling its tails.

Her eyes narrowed: "Which part is the head?"

"I don't know. We should probably figure it out, since the other side shoots flames." he said in an amused tone.

"It's supposed to be a sucker, so it might be the penis-looking side." he chuckled, but when she turned to stare at him expectantly, his red eyebrow jumped in question. A breeze ruffled their hair.

"Go on then, don't be shy, we need to compare." she said flatly.

He burst out laughing so hard, a few people around them turned to stare - quite a dangerous thing to do at the moment seeing as some of the beasts started snipping. A yelp sounded from afar, and Fred laughed even harder.

At least his partner is funny.

"Seriously though, this thing is going to fire-fart on us soon and we need to figure it out."

“You don’t feel better in nature?” her tone piqued as she turned the pages of a book. Their desk was covered with them, during the first of their many study meetings.

“No.” Fred played with his quill, spinning it through his fingers. “You do?”

“I feel clearer, especially near water.”, thump, she shut her book and discarded it.

“How come?” he balanced on the back legs of his chair, eyes darting around.

“I don’t know. It’s not a thing I question.”, flip, flip, flip, “It just lures me out of my head, and makes me feel a little more real, like I’m aware of my own existence. Sharper, yknow?”

Fred shook his head.

“I don’t have a need to get out of my head, it’s great in there.” he joked. She snorted and passed him a book with a piece of paper sticking out.

“Don’t you? You seem to be in there a lot though. I think you think too much.” Fred chukled, “That’s something I've never been told.”

“Then it’s about time.” she threw his way, but she had yet to look at him, Fred noted. The idea of her as geometrical played around in his head. “Try it next time. People exist a little sharper sometimes. It stops you from feeling like you’re going to float away.” her eyes finally flickered to him like two needles of her compasses, and shot him down. His chair hit the ground.

Before Fred had a chance to say something else or roll her idea around in his brain, she passed him a piece of parchment with a soft order to, “Write.”

His diagram of their unnamed child was much neater than hers, but his illegible handwriting distracted from it perfectly.

"That is not a t."she said, her hair almost electrified from stress-combing it with her hands.

"It's obviously a g." he chirped, but his tone sounded worn down all the same. She squinted at the paper with her mouth open for a moment, then gave up.

"How are you still this peppy?" she asked as her gaze lazily rolled itself away from the books. His tie was completely undone and being used as a bookmark, his shirt unbuttoned and ruffled like his hair, ha, carrot head!, but he took no note of it as he balanced on the back legs of his chair again. Every so often, a clank would sound amid their conversation when the chair struck against the stone floor and his feet hit the ground, before he leaned back again.

"What are you talking about? I'm knackered." he yawned.

She looked up, and her thoughts leaked out of her head. The scenery through the window behind him was gorgeous, lit on fire by the dusk— oversaturated reds and pinks which lined the dark purple clouds.

With a loud tap on the library floor, the front legs of Fred's chair touched the ground and his head covered the sun perfectly, giving him a golden lining and making his orange hair melt into the background. The clear lines of his face looked almost chiseled in contrast to the haziness behind him.

A weight settled in the center of her torso, an iron bowling ball rolling between her stomach and her heart. He was handsome. She knew this. But she used to know it the way one knows they should drink water when they’re thirsty. Knowing you needed it after you drink him in, swallow, and sign, is another story.

She felt a warm metal line grow out of her chest, like a vine towards the sunlight, enter his chest and settle.

For a few moments she imagined it. She tried to note the dragging sensation of warm iron and let herself be pulled to him. She imagined the ball rolling in his center, and all his squirming being in an attempt to adjust it instead of just staying awake.

Then she blinked. Took in the real scene. Despite being exhausted, she felt tranquil in their little corner filled with books and a few very ugly sketches. She picked one up.

“Are we allowed to call his head a dick?” She questioned, but Fred just yawned and shrugged. His chair tipped back again.

“You’ll hurt yourself.” She said flatly, words moving from line to line like trains with the shittiest track designs ever.

“The thrill keeps me awake.” he closed his eyes, hair still a burning red. She didn’t dare look at the Sun for too long. Her eyes tried to follow the words. The ball rolled.

He slid another sketch towards her. “I think we should use this one.”

She put the first one aside, their hands brushing as she took the new parchment. She heard the scraping of his chair on the floor as he moved closer until his collarbone pressed against her shoulder as he leaned over to point. The body heat he was emitting only reminded her of the weariness her body carried. It also refashioned her bowling ball into an anchor slowly sinking through her stomach, tickling her insides on the way down.

The sketch was neater and much simpler than others, no more than a handful of black lines on a yellowing parchment.

“This part is the head.” Fred pointed out. “I think. It looks weird and there isn’t exactly a good reference for a randomly cross-bred demon.” He seemed so focused on his drawing that she got the feeling he was avoiding her eyes intentionally. Stupid, really. They’re both just tired and have a lot of work.

Look at me.

He didn’t.

She banished all her stupid silly thoughts, and tried to turn to the books for the next few hours.

Fred stayed circling warmly on the edge of her orbit, moving around her but never looking, never acknowledging her as anything other than a voice and a pair of friendly working hands. The silly stupid thread she felt earlier vibrated. She didn't bring it up for fear they wouldn't finish all their work if she were to derail the conversation, so she waited until the end of their study session.

However, when the anticipated end neared, his chair hit the stone the last time and when she turned to him, Fred was lying on his arms on the table, asleep. His outline was as bright and as sharp as ever, but his face was soft and smooth from relaxation, like a marble statue melting. The anchor in her stomach lurch up at the sight, but she swallowed it down, smiled, and laid her head on the table too.

Another sunny afternoon had George almost skipping to his quirky partner. And Fred was glad, he liked to see his brother happy and loved teasing him for being in love even more — but he still hated the bloody beasts. He was thankful for George's efforts to cheer him up, but Fred refused to move out from under his personal gloomy cloud, choosing to carry it alone instead, the way one would an umbrella.

As soon as George mentions his partner, he knows it's time to leave him to his beloved, as he does, with minimal mocking involved (—but come on!).

As Fred approached her, he saw her roll her eyes. Funny. Something about knowing she's as un-excited as he is made his chest swell up with what can only be described as the sudden understanding of the real depth of companionship between you and a stranger, an acquaintance, a friend. I might not like this, but I am not alone.

"They're four feet long already. Your future sister-in-law," said his partner, gesturing to George's love with her head, at which Fred smiled warmly, "said we only get to work with them for another class. I think she might cry." His clouds stopped thundering.

"Don't be rude." he replied but did not sound angry in the least.

"I'm not. She's a nice girl and God bless her for being passionate about this. We need people like her, otherwise the rest of us would have to care as well." she reasoned.

"There's that warm and welcoming Slytherin care I've heard all about." he said sarcastically.

"Rude. Gingers truly are soulless." Fred got nudged in the ribs.

"Oi!"

"Oi yourself!" she flipped her hair and flashed her foxy smile. No, it's fox-like. "Don't start things you can't finish."

"Well, I'm ready to be done with this thing." he looked pointedly at the snapping creature reaching out to them like a baby in a cot.

They received their instructions from Hagrid to feed, entertain, and check the health of the creature and set off to work. After a few minutes of silence, Fred spoke.

"I think there's something wrong with this thing." he squinted.

"Him." She corrected, "He's our son."

"Well I think our son is pregnant." Fred’s face soured.

“No way." she replied, kneeling closer to the beast than she'd ever dared before. "How do you know?"

"A hunch?" Fred shrugged his very nicely shaped shoulders. No! "I'm not sure. It did eat three times as much as the others. It should be a lot fatter."

"He." She absent-mindedly corrected, trying to get a good enough look.

"He doesn't look sick but he's being weird." he squatted next to her, bouncing on his heels.

"Maybe he's lonely. We both ditched a few times." She bumped her knee into his. "I dare you to touch him."

Fred laughed as he turned to her. "I'm not that commited of a father. You do it."

"Why me? You need to do something too!" she whined as their son approached in a rather puppy-like gait, as if he was going to rub against their legs, and Fred's gaze slipped off her, like that day in the library.

"I'll do whatever you want.” he paused "Within reason, of course."

"Touch him."

"Within reason."

"Fine." their dark-shelled son stood before them now, but they were not as hesitant this time. The beast looked at Fred with either his head or his stinger (how is it still not clear?).

Slowly and shakily, her hand reached out. She almost withdrew it, but it already made contact with their son's back and he made a sound similar to purring, which was both surprising and unsettling. Her face bent in disgust as her entire palm pressed against his black shell, gleaming maroon in the sunlight.

"Ew. He's slimy." she detached her hand to see a catran-like substance coating it. "How is he slimy?"

Fred's nose was scrunched as well but an amused gleam flickered on his face nonetheless. “Disgusting.”

"Well, I did it." she complained, trying to wipe her hand on his arm, but he rose to his feet quickly, laughing.

“Keep that to yourself.” Fred warned, trying to avoid her swift attempts to use him as a rag.

“Come on!” She whined. “We’re in this together. If I have to be gross then so do you.” she jumped up after Fred.

He felt weightless as he maneuvered around her and the clawing beast that still purred by their feet, and he realized how warm the sunlight was. His little cloud was gone. In that distracted second of their impromptu three-creature quickstep, she wrapped her clean hand around his hand and pulled herself closer to him.

She grinned from ear to ear, and Fred felt her wet, cold hand sliding down his shoulder. She wiped a few times down his arm and chest with a wickedly satisfied look in her face as he wondered why he didn’t mind it so much. His eyes danced over her face the way his trainers had over the grass mere seconds ago.

“What?” she asked. Wait, she was speaking.

“Um, nothing.” his face rearranged itself from a goofy smile (What?) and he looked at his stained shirt. Before he even had time to comment, her voice made the center of his stomach tighten.

“Do you think he'd lick one if she asked?” Fred followed her gaze to George, looking as dreamy as his partner who was purring back at their Blast-Ended Skrewt. Sunlight covered them too.

Her hand still held onto him.

Fred sighed, both amused and lightheaded from a new discovery threatening to unveil its face in his mind. George laughed so loudly it reached Fred’s ears, and he responded, “Yes.”

“Would you lick one for me?” she batted her eyelashes.

“Absolutely not.” he said without missing a beat.

“What kind of a father won't even lick his own son?” she put a hand on her chest, faux-horrified.

“I still think our son is pregnant.” he said, grinning at her.

“What kind of a father won't lick his own pregnant son?” she humored.

“You're making this worse than it has to be.”

Her eyebrow rose as she offered: “You can always do this alone?”

“No.” something ugly and covered in spikes spun in Fred's stomach.

“Well then,” she said smugly, as if she knew, “you need to start cooperating.” She tugged on his arm with her hand that was there the whole time. Her arm slid around his as she pulled him along, and Fred adjusted his collar with his fingers. When did they get so far away from the group?

“You don’t pet him, you don’t groom him with your tongue like a cat, what do you do? I haven’t seen you change a single diaper!” she over-exaggerated. “I’m basically a single mother!”

He laughed and apologized, feeling lighter and sharper than he had all day.

His future sister-in-law was wrong. They worked on their loving, puppy-like hell scorpions for three more classes, and had another one in a classroom, correcting their essays. During that class, they found out that their son really was pregnant, at which they laughed all the way to the Great Hall.

Fred felt something heavy rolling over his intestines when he thought of the end. It wound itself around his organs until his lips dropped. Nevertheless, he grinned at George (who definitely saw through him), and, with his chin up like a proud lion, departed from him to sit next to his partner, one last time.

He thought about her more often than he expected to, and he feared he might have to stop soon.

As he slid next to her, his metaphorical tail curled closer to him. She beamed brightly at him, and offered her closed fist.

“You ready, partner?”

No, he curled his fingers with a smile, I don’t think I am, and bumped their hands together.

“Doesn’t have to end? Didn't you listen?” she asked him incredulously as he caught up with her. He couldn’t say he has, as his ears buzzed deafeningly loudly since they received their O.

Maybe she had a point when she said there were moments when people felt more defined as he was more sure than ever that he existed in the corridor leading to the Care of Magical Creatures classroom, as his limbs filled with lead at the way she spoke.

“I just thought if you—” his mouth shit on its own. “You know—”

“Holy shit, you really didn’t listen?” but this time she laughed. “Hagrid said we can pick our own partners for the next project.” Her arm curled around his own, “So unless you want to dump me, we march on.”

Whatever heavy thing has been making his stomach a winter home the past week flew off to their summer residence.

She definitely had a point about grounded moments, because when her hand squeezed his arm, the lead leaked out and the awareness of every part of his body slammed into focus.

And Fred smiled back.

She smiled promisingly at him, his heart stuttered, and his sneakers sunk into the stone beneath him.

[amillionmillionvoices]

River/Doctor #7

river/12, kissing scars a bruise

It’s been over a day by the time he notices. A day of skirting around one another, of half-conversations, almost-apologies, broken declarations. She almost tells him what she’s been through, since Manhattan. He almost asks. She almost touches him, fingers ghosting across his arm before they fall away, and she turns her attention to something else. He almost stops her. 

They’re still in the TARDIS, parked near the Towers now, and he thinks perhaps they’re both too scared to mention all the time laid out before them. He thinks maybe she doesn’t want it. Maybe she doesn’t trust him. He wouldn’t blame her, but it knots in his chest, every time she looks at him, like she’s just waiting for him to leave. 

They’ve spent time together and argued about little things—the TARDIS’ bulb, where to put the swimming pool, whether Akorax V is better before or after the Fall of the Emperor. But everything they need to talk about—Amy and Rory, Manhattan, Darillium, Hydroflax, Ramone, the Doctor does not, and has never, loved me—they keep tucked away on their tongues. 

He doesn’t know if it’s the weight of the unsaid, or just the last six months, but they’re bickering over where to order in from when he looks up, looks at her, and for the first time sees how exhausted she looks—there are circles under her eyes he swears weren’t there before, a heaviness to her shoulders, her smile wane. 

He trails off, stares, and River arches an eyebrow. “What?”

He blinks, and frowns. “You look tired.”

“Thank you,” she says with a huff, rolling her eyes, but her hands drop from the menu they’ve been holding together, and she tries to stand straighter. For the first time, he notices her wince. 

“When was the last time you slept?” 

River glares. “When was the last time you slept?”

He can’t remember. He doesn’t feel tired—too anxious to be tired, too afraid, of losing her again before he’s had a chance to make things right. To do better by her, be better for her. 

He doesn’t answer. 

River shrugs him off, and he doesn’t press. They order food and sit in the kitchen and he doesn’t feel like eating. River barely touches her plate. He wants to call her on it, but knows she’d simply turn it back around on him. They pack most of it away in the fridge. 

River disappears to shower, and he wants to follow her. Wants to run his hands over her skin and reassure himself that she’s alive and safe and really here, not a ghost, not a haunting. But she doesn’t invite him and he can’t summon the courage to ask, so he tinkers with the controls and folds and unfolds a newspaper he picked up, full of real estate ads. 

There’s a little bungalow not far from the town nearest the towers. It has bay windows and a garden, or so the ad says. He should ask her about it. If she wants it. If she still wants him. 

He supposes it’s a conversation they should have sooner rather than later. 

Tucking the newspaper into his pocket, he takes his time moving toward their bedroom. Runs over in his mind what to say and how to say it. Practices under his breath being gentle. Being open. His voice still sounds too gruff, too irritated. He doesn’t want to sound like he doesn’t care. Not here, not now. Not with her. Not this time. 

Their bedroom door is cracked open, and he can hear the shower running. Slips inside and stares at the bed they haven’t slept in together for years, still made up. Her clothes are in a pile on top of the comforter, her trowel on the desk in the corner. Her diary’s on the nightstand, her new screwdriver on top of it, and his stomach knots. He looks away, takes a seat on the edge of the bed facing the en-suite door, and fiddles with his ring. 

He hasn’t told her why he wears it, that he wears it for her. Hasn’t told her he keeps his bow tie in his pocket at all times. Hasn’t told her how much he’s missed her, longed for her. Hasn’t told her how badly he wants to bury his face in her hair, how he wants to hold her and never let go. 

He thinks of the aftermath of Manhattan, of the way she’d tried so hard to be strong for him. The way she wouldn’t break. The way he pushed and pushed until she left, taking the rest of his hearts with her. 

The way he hadn’t gone after her, like she should have done. 

He’s made so many mistakes, they make his chest ache, and he knows he doesn’t deserve this, deserve her, but he’s selfish and needs her and he’s so busy trying to come up with the right thing to say to make her realize he isn’t lying that he doesn’t notice the shower turn off, doesn’t hear her moving until the door opens and she’s standing there, hair wet against her neck, towel around her waist, staring at him. 

“Doctor?”

Not sweetie, not darling. 

He swallows. “We need to talk.”

It isn’t what he means to say, isn’t how he means to say it, and River tightens her grip on her towel. She looks down for a brief moment, and he hears her inhale; then she looks up, jaw tight, steeling herself. 

“Talk, then,” she says, as if it doesn’t matter. 

She crosses to the closet and picks out clothes and the Doctor stares at her legs, her back, her shoulders.

“I—“ he starts, and falters. There’s something on her neck that he can’t quite see. “Come here.”

River turns, frowning, clothes in her arms. He gestures, and she rolls her eyes, but comes closer, almost cautiously, eying him with too much suspicion. When she’s close enough, he reaches for her arm, nudging gently. 

“Turn around.”

She huffs. “What are you—“

“Just turn.”

She glares, but does as he says, and he reaches a trembling hand out to move her hair aside. Her shoulder is purple, almost black in some places, worse up close, now that he can see the faint outline of large fingerprints. He hesitates, fingers ghosting over the outline of the bruise, and River flinches. 

“Hydroflax?” he asks, remembers when they tried to escape, the way the robot dangled her off the floor by her shoulder. He hadn’t seen anything, hadn’t known—he supposes her spray is to thank for that, the longer sleeves she’s been wearing since. 

“It’s fine,” River says, and makes to turn but he stills her. 

“Stay here.”

He disappears into the en-suite, comes back with a bottle, a healing salve from some planet or other, he can’t remember. Knows only that it will help her pain. 

“Sit.”

“I’m not a dog,” River snaps, finally, a hint of anger in her eyes, and it relieves him just a little, to see her spark. 

He holds up the bottle. “Sit, please?”

River glowers, but sets down her clothes and perches on the edge of the bed, her back to him as he uncaps the bottle and pours a generous amount of salve into his hands. 

“This might hurt,” he warns, but she merely nods, flinches slightly at the first, barely-there touch of his fingers on the bruise. 

It’s wide and discolored and he hates that he didn’t notice, hates that she didn’t tell him, hates that he let it happen in the first place. That she was harmed. That anyone dared harm her. He clenches his jaw, but it doesn’t stop his words from spilling out, a muttered, 

“Should have put him down the garbage disposal when I had the chance.”

River snorts. 

“I’m serious.”

“Yes,” she says, too casually, “But then I’d never have known who you were.”

He stills a moment. “You think I wouldn’t have told you?”

She shrugs, and winces again. “You certainly took your time.” 

Her voice is even, but he knows better now. Knows it isn’t a joke, and he swallows tightly. 

“I tried,” he says, but they both know he didn’t try hard enough. “Not my fault you’re slow on the uptake.”

He regrets the words immediately, for the way River sighs quietly, says, “No, I suppose it isn’t.” It sounds too much like defeat, coming from her. 

“River…”

“Just say it, Doctor.”

“Say what?”

“Whatever it is you think I don’t want to hear.”

She sounds exhausted, sounds wrung out, and he stares at her shoulder, wishes he could see her face, but he isn’t brave enough. And it helps, almost, to stare at the bruise when he says, 

“I...don’t know…” he trails off, hesitates, reaches out and touches her spine, so gently. “...how to say it.”

There’s silence, long and dreadful, and River doesn’t turn, doesn’t move, barely looks like she’s breathing. 

“Most people just say ‘goodbye.’”

The Doctor flinches. “Is that what you think I want?”

River shakes her head, but still refuses to look at him. “I don’t know what you want.”

Her words hit his chest, and he feels something inside him crack. 

His River. 

His wife. 

And he’s done this to her, made her so uncertain, she won’t even face him. He’s made her so sure that his absence is the only thing she can count on. It forces the air from his lungs, makes him shudder. He closes his eyes against the rotating guilt, the grief he’s created for them both. 

There’s so much he wants—needs—to tell her and he doesn’t know where or how to start. She’s stiff beneath his hand, waiting, he knows, for a dismissal. An excuse. A trite line or a lie. 

He wants to ask her what she wants. What she needs. But he thinks, staring at the bruise he could so easily heal, that it isn’t good enough. Puts too much onus on her, to pretend the hurt never happened. That it’s easily fixed. 

Swallowing down his nausea, his fear, he slides his hand over her skin to her arm, cradles her bicep gently, fingers whispering in Gallifreyan. 

I’m sorry, he says. 

River shudders, sighs, and moves to turn, away or toward he isn’t sure, but he doesn’t want her forgiveness, not yet. 

Bending forward, he places a soft kiss to the bruise on her shoulder. 

“Just you,” he whispers, and gathers his courage. 

River doesn’t move, for a long moment, his lips pressed to her skin, his fingers drawing symbols on her arm for want and need and hope. 

When she turns, finally, her eyes are bright with tears, and he lets his hand fall to hers, lifts her wrist to his lips and kisses that, too, the scar he’s never forgotten. 

River stares at him, her eyes blown and he waits, brushes his thumb over the pulse in her wrist. 

“Always you.”

River blinks and a tear falls and he catches it, cradles her cheek, relieved beyond all measure when she tilts into his touch. 

“Sweetie—”

He kisses her quiet, so softly, and tastes salt.

[peaktotheocean]

base

written for the witcher flash fic #026! on Ao3 here

Geralt wasn't feral, he was just down to his base. And being at the base meant there was still a foundation on which to build.

In all her years, Triss has had plenty of villagers burst through her door without knocking. Their urgency clouding their auras as they frantically begged her to follow them to where loved ones lay, most easily helped and some tragically not.

Never had she heard barely a knock on the door but rather just a thud to the ground.

Apparently, her future charge hadn’t even been able to make it to the entrance, let alone through it.

As she swung the formidable piece of wood inward, Triss saw why.

A huge Witcher had collapsed atop of a smaller man. Not much smaller in height, Triss realized, when she got a better look at him. He waved with his one free hand at her. The other wasn’t trapped underneath the Witcher’s bulk but occupied with stroking the long white hair.

“Hello. Are you free to help?” He asked as though, if she said no, he and the Witcher would somehow manage to get off the ground and walk to the next nearest village with no issue.

Not answering, Triss leaned closer to the Witcher.

She knew him, this Geralt of Rivia. Well, she knew of him and was acquainted with his brother, Eskel.

And if this was Geralt, then the other man had to be “Jaskier,” she said aloud. The bard blinked at her in surprise. Geralt however, bared his teeth at where her hands were hovering above them.

“Geralt!” Jaskier turned towards him and shifted so less of the Witcher’s weight kept him down. “Be polite!”

Geralt of Rivia did not want to be polite. Though, Triss could tell it was through no fault of his own. The Witcher’s eyes seemed to go right through her. Not the bard though. He saw Jaskier. He just didn’t seem…aware of it. That might explain the growling but then again, perhaps not.

“I’m not sure what’s wrong.” Jaskier’s worried tone was only making his Witcher more on-edge. “I found him like this in that prison and well, I got him here but he was like this the whole way.”

“What prison?”

“Yes, the castle over the hills. Whatever the name of that pompous liege lord of those lands are—“

“You got him through the hills in this state?”

“Ah well.” Jaskier’s cheeks tinged pink. “It’s possible that he picked me up and carried me most of the way.”

“Did he?” Triss eyed the Witcher's biceps. She would have paid good coin to see that. Quite a show indeed.

The area around Jaskier's eyes wrinkled and he closed them. His voice lowered and Triss realized that he was trying to manage his heartbeat. Keep it at a steady rhythm even while remembering the imprisonment so that Geralt stayed calm. “There were a lot of guards. He just took me and ran. And didn’t stop running. When I finally convinced him to slow down, he nearly collapsed outside your village.”

“Then you dragged him here," she said in amazement. The terrain was not simple between her and the village. Uphill and a rocky crop.

“Best I could.”

Content for now, Geralt ignored Triss in favor of taking Jaskier’s hand off of his head and playing with his fingers. He didn’t speak but he hummed to himself.

“And he was like this the whole time?”

“I didn’t realize." Jaskier averted his eyes.

Embarrassed, she thought.

"I had not seen him for months. I just thought perhaps he didn’t want to speak of his capture. But after an hour or so slung over his shoulder, I realized something was wrong.”

“Someone told me that you were a master of the seven arts.”

“None of those arts are medicine!” Jaskier tugged his hand away from Geralt to use both in order to cover his eyes. “He seems healthy. Just exhausted. And like this.”

“Feral. Nearly feral.”

“Feral? But he's perfectly calm like this.” Jaskier watched as Geralt took his hand back and just held it. He still hadn’t looked at Triss again but he also hadn’t bared his teeth at her so Jaskier considered it a win for now.

“I’m not well-versed in Witchers. But I know their trials were horrendous. They’re named after animals for reasons that I cannot guess. But perhaps he wanted to protect himself. And you. Or…” Triss took a deep breath and Geralt’s head snapped towards her. Jaskier gentled him with one hand on the back of his neck.

“Magic. I smell magic on him.”

“A spell.” Jaskier slumped down impressively for someone still on the ground. “There was a mage there. I, well." He looked to his companion again. "None near us were left alive."

A dead end then. Down that route anyway. Triss waved the thought away. No use trading in past possibilities. “Then think no more of it. Let me contact another mage who is familiar with him and —“

“Yennefer?” Jaskier asked and Triss nodded. She pulled a xenovox out of her robes and flicked it open. Geralt startled at the noise but Jaskier shushed him again.

"Yennefer. Are you there?"

"Triss?"

Inexplicably, Jaskier felt his shoulders come down at hearing her voice. Friends, they might be one day but certainly not now. Still he knew she cared, would help, had the power. Hopefully.  

"I found him. Geralt's here. He's safe. He's with the bard but...he's fine," Triss tilted her head to look at Geralt, unsure how to describe him. "The bard is in a good mental state and healthy. Geralt could do with a good meal but his mental health...I can't explain. He smells of magic but there are no survivors who might be able to tell us why. He is..."

She looked to Jaskier for help and he held out his hand. He carefully watched Geralt as he spoke into the device. Still no reaction from the Witcher. So long as Triss stayed away, he remained content.

"He does not speak. He is distrustful of all others," Jaskier started with the symptoms.

"Is he fighting invisible demons or just real ones?" Yennefer sounded as though she followed a routine check-list of questions. Jaskier tried not to get his hopes up.

"Real," he said with certainty. "Everyone or everything he has reacted to so far has been real. Triss called him...feral," Jaskier said reluctantly. "It's not a word I'd like to use to describe him but I'm currently at a loss for any others." He let her think for a moment and watched Geralt discover the length of his own hair. He tugged on it lightly and stretched it out in front of him, white strands falling down to his face. Geralt shook his head at the feeling and while Triss giggled, Jaskier felt like crying.

Before he could stop himself, he raised the xenovox up to his lips again. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do. I wasn't sure where we even were."

Yennefer's sigh was followed by reluctant support. "You did the right thing."

"I know the two of you--" Jaskier waved his hand even though Yennefer couldn’t see it.

"You can be angry at someone and not want them to perish in a dungeon, Julian."

If Triss was surprised to hear another one of his names, she didn't look it. Jaskier swallowed and went back to stroking Geralt's hair. Whether it was a comfort for himself or the Witcher, he wasn't sure.

"Can you?"

"He was looking for you, you know?"

Jaskier closed his eyes tightly. Geralt made a low worried noise but Jaskier only shook his head. “Don't tell me that."

"He is a Witcher. You can't keep them safe. Especially during war time. If he was going to continue fighting monsters during these conflicts, then it was going to be along routes where his bard was said to have been seen."

"His bard," Jaskier sighed. "That's what they called me when they caught me. The Witcher's bard. Then they took me down the dungeons and he was there. And when he saw me…”

"Aren't you? The Witcher’s bard," Triss interrupted.

"It's been. Well, I suppose that Yennefer might know how long it's been." Time had always been a foreign construct to Jaskier. The seasons helped but even they blurred together after a while.

"You're still his bard," Yennefer said firmly. "This proves it. One of his brothers has been looking for him. I was contacted by another mage who was paid to inquire."

"Good. He'll be safe with his brothers."

"Perhaps."

"Kaer Morhen, right?" Jaskier had never seen the castle in the mountains but his imagination always had a habit of making large assumptions. He pictured a keep built into the side of a mountain, hidden by architecture and low clouds.

Perhaps that was too fanciful. Geralt had given him only a few descriptions to go on. "He can heal there. Can you take us?" He asked it into the xenovox but directly it towards Triss.

"Triss, keep me updated." And just like that, Yennefer's voice was gone from the box. Jaskier held it back out to Triss who tucked it into her skirts.

"Not to the fortress," she explained. "It is not…Mages are not welcome there. But I can have the brother meet us at the village at the base of it."

Geralt sat at Jaskier's feet, poking holes in the the knotted wood floors. "How are they going to get him up the mountain in this state?"

-------------------------------

As it turned out, the answer was that they were not even going to try.

Jaskier found himself standing in front of three Witchers, with his own pressed against his back. Geralt hadn’t growled at his brothers but he had sniffed Eskel when the Witcher held out his hand in front of him as if Geralt was a cautious pet. For a moment, Jaskier thought Geralt was going to lick his brother’s hand but instead he tilted his head and bumped it against his head, wanting Eskel to stroke his hair. Even while looking nauseous, Eskel obeyed.

“But I thought it would be the best place to go. Geralt has said many times that this is...his home,” Jaskier said helplessly. He looked to the North. Snow still covered the mountains and presumably the hidden keep, but he imagined that kept all year round. He knew from Geralt that he and his brothers left Kaer Morhen as soon as the snow let them.

“A home full of nightmares,” one of the Witchers muttered.

Geralt held onto Jaskier's hand with both of his. He didn't look nervous exactly but definitely tense. Jaskier wanted to run his fingers through that white hair in an attempt to calm him down but it felt like too intimate. Perhaps not in front of the other Witchers but certainly out in the open, right outside of this village where anyone could see.

The youngest spoke again. Lambert, Jaskier remembered. “We’re...safe there but we weren’t always. Between the pogroms and the trials...”  He looked at the eldest Witcher. Their tutor, the one who raised them. That helped make them. “It is a begrudging home. We have no other options.” He sounded ashamed and honest at once.

“Oh.” Jaskier looked around again. Safety could mean a lot of things. A home that was safe didn’t have to also mean comfort or contentment. “So you think...”

“I think if he’s down to his...base." Eskel said the word so delicately. "The mountain will not be a place to heal. I am sorry.” The apology wasn’t directed to Jaskier but rather to Vesemir, the oldest Witcher who not had yet offered advice during the conversation.

The tension broke then and Lambert approached Geralt who sniffed at him eagerly. He looked at Jaskier for permission, who tried not to let any tears fall as he nodded at him. “Go on, Geralt. You know Lambert. I’ll be right here.”

That was all Geralt needed. He crouched down in a stance and Lambert froze. He copied Geralt and narrowed his eyes. Geralt’s smile was there but it was wild as he pounced on his brother, soundlessly cheering as they rolled away, closely followed by Vesemir.

Jaskier sat down on the ground, exhausted but content to watch them for now.

“It’s like he imprinted on you.”

“Eskel, right?” Jaskier held out his hand and although surprised, Eskel shook it. For all his bulk, he gracefully sat down next to Jaskier, legs out in front of him.

“He told you about me?”

“He kept his brothers close. But occasionally, I was given some information.” Jaskier smiled at the memory. Geralt didn’t talk much and usually not while grinning but when discussing his family? They were where his heart lived. “Of course he made me swear never to use your names in songs. In case you were wondering why you never heard your name sung out in pubs. Blame your brother.”

“I’d prefer to keep it that way but Lambert might take you up on your offer.” Eskel winced as Geralt pinned Lambert hard against the dirt. It took some convincing from Vesemir to let him get up and before they began the game again, Geralt looked over to check and make sure Jaskier still sat in the same place. “I’m sorry that this isn’t the end of your journey. We will help you find a place to keep him for now. Then we will reassess once it is safer.”

“I teach, normally. In Oxenfurt," Jaskier said conversationally as if they weren't watching two grown Witchers wrestle, with one having recently attempted to bite off the ear of the other. "But I can’t imagine such a loud city being conducive to his healing. I’m thinking sunshine. And quiet.”

“Oh?”

"I have a place in mind, I mean. If you're sure he can't stay here."

Eskel watched his brothers wrestle. For Lambert to be the cautious one was something new indeed. “He can’t. Not as he is. He needs someone with him and we’re needed on the Path. It is a dangerous time. Even before winter, there were contracts I had no time for. I must go back to those villages.”

“Yes, of course." Trust Geralt's brothers to be as noble as the Wolf. "Well, you’d be welcome. All of you. If you’d like to visit, I mean.” Jaskier wanted to beg Eskel to come with them. Lambert, Vesemir. Any of them. He didn’t know how to care for a feral Witcher. Geralt hadn’t wanted him last they met. And now Geralt was stuck with him. “I, for one, would be comfortable knowing that you knew Geralt’s location. That I didn’t just steal away your brother.”

Eskel laughed, “You begged a mage to help him and then brought my brother back to us. I can’t imagine that we would think you’d be trying to hide him away.” Jaskier only offered a weak smile at that. Eskel clapped him on the shoulder. The noise of the gesture making Geralt’s head pop up from where Lambert attempted to keep him down. “No, bard. For your safety, I will accompany you where you’d like to go. And then you will be welcome to correspond with us for whatever you might need. It is a task that I dare say you do not take likely.”

“I’ll take you there.” Triss' voice came from behind them.

“Are you sure?” Jaskier and Eskel asked at the same time.

She hadn't stopped watching Geralt. Jaskier couldn't blame her. If she knew him before or at least knew of him, it was...unsettling to say the least. He was sweet, of course. He was still Geralt. But just...less, somehow.

Geralt would look them in the eye but not see them. Open his mouth with no intention to speak, only sounds. Jaskier liked Eskel's diagnosis more than Triss'. Geralt wasn't feral, he was just down to his base. Something for Jaskier to remember before those instincts kicked in again and he found himself being thrown over a shoulder yet again.

But being at the base meant there was still a foundation on which to build.

-------------------------------

It was too short a time before Triss had settled them at the cottage by the sea. She had already left to go find Yennefer. Jaskier only had Eskel and Geralt now, and he wasn't quite ready to watch Eskel leave.

“How can I find you if—“ He cut himself off, looking past Geralt to the horizon. His Witcher was sitting on the sand and staring out to sea. What he saw, if anything, Jaskier wasn't sure.

“If what, bard?” Eskel asked gently.

“I was thinking if he gets better but I suppose he’ll know how to contact you or find his way up the mountain again."

“Having second thoughts?”

Jaskier shook his head. He had never. Not about Geralt. He had left because Geralt had told him to. He figured that the kindest thing he could do for the Witcher was listen to his wishes. “He doesn’t like me. Your brother, I mean.” He took a deep breathe. Perhaps he should have mentioned it before Triss set a protection spell over the cottage. “The last conversation we had, he told me that he never wanted to see me again.”

“Geralt has told me that at least two dozen times in all the years I’ve known him. You can’t take it personally.”

“I don’t have another option. Or the— forgive me— benefit, for lack of a better word, of many years left on this Continent in order to find our way back to one another. He holds all the cards and best decks to boot.”

“What do you fear?”

The waves crashed relentlessly against the shore as Jaskier pondered his answer.

“That he will wake up one morning, realize who he is with, and curse me for not trying harder to get him his life back.”

“Bard— Jaskier...”

Jaskier only shook his head. “I asked him to go to the coast with me once. He said no. This is not what I had in mind.”

Eskel’s voice sounded far away. “No, I imagine not.”

“You’re sure you won’t stay?” Jaskier tried one more time. Eskel had stayed with them long enough. He recognized the look in the Witcher's eyes. The Path was calling and wouldn't take no for an answer. “He took to you better than anyone else.”

Eskel only shook his head. He got up off of the sand and wiped down his pants. He clapped a hand on Jaskier's shoulder, not even flinching when Geralt's head whipped around, eyes narrowed. He relaxed when he saw that again, it was just his brother. "You keep him safe.”

“Keep yourself safe. Come back to us.”

"You know, you would have our gratitude if you didn't already. For your songs. And finding him."

"Of course." Jaskier looked away again.

Eskel wanted to stay. He wanted Jaskier to understand how special it was for a Witcher to trust a human. How special Jaskier was to have earned that. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to let himself.

Returning would be a reward for a long few weeks on the Path. He’d stay as close as he’d let himself.

“I’ll be back for his birthday, all right?”

Jaskier nodded. “Right. After Belleteyn then.”

“It’s only a few months.”

Eskel watched as the bard steeled himself with an inhale and managed a smile. “So long as you bring him a cake. Cooking I’m all right with but certainly not baking.”

“It’s a deal.”

-------------------------------

"No, darling. That's just a cat. What a sweetheart, see? Hear the purring? Isn't it, nice? I-- Oh!"

Jaskier found himself being held against Geralt's chest. He tried not to let himself sink into it. He refused to be that selfish. He could just be happy that Geralt wasn't hissing at the poor puss.

But then Geralt's chest shuddered and began to vibrate. After a few false starts, the purring became steady and loud and Jaskier watched Geralt with wide-eyed amazement.

It was all Jaskier could do to not fall asleep against the purring Witcher.

-------------------------------

Geralt's brow furrowed just slightly. As if he was trying to remember how to concentrate on something. It seemed to strengthen as Jaskier put a hand on his arm but that quickly, recognition left his eyes.

-------------------------------

Jaskier sat up in bed. He knew the shadow at the door was Geralt but--

"Geralt?" He tried.

The shadow came closer and Jaskier's heart sank at the unfocused golden eyes searched around the room for him.

"It's all right. I haven't gone anywhere. Except to bed, I suppose."

Geralt said nothing. Just waited.

"Come on then," Jaskier offered quietly. "You need sleep, regardless of what's going on in that head of yours. Your brother should be here tomorrow, you know?" Acting before he could overthink the boundaries he had set for himself, he kissed Geralt’s forehead and let the Witcher settle in next to him.

-------------------------------

Where was he? Nothing about this place looked familiar but it smelled...safe.

Jaskier. It smelled like Jaskier.

Geralt let the sleep pull him under again.

The next time he awoke, the scent hadn't changed but he had.

He remembered little but he knew himself. Jaskier. He hadn't...been himself. Why?

Rolling around with Lambert.

Yennefer's voice.

A dungeon.

Geralt sat up with a start, head beginning to ache. He didn't move though.

Jaskier was in his bed. Next to him.

No, not Geralt's bed. It smelt more like Jaskier.

Geralt was in Jaskier's bed.

"Some mornings, I wonder if you wouldn't have just been happier being left at Kaer Morhen," Jaskier murmured, pushing Geralt's hair back and away from his face. "But then again, you've already been left with Witchers once in your life. I suppose I couldn't do that to you again. Not if I could help it."  

Geralt kept quiet. This was not a tavern room that he and Jaskier had shared, that much was clear. His eyes followed Jaskier's fingers but he said nothing.

“I’d like you to remember yourself again but at the same time there are some memories I’d rather you not have to re-live. Yennefer said she found the name of the mage in the dungeon so hopefully there are notes somewhere. But she's not optimistic.” Jaskier sighed. He smelled...not sad, not exactly. But he wasn't hopeful.

He brightened up a bit, just for a moment. “Your brother should be by any time today. Perhaps that’ll help.”

Brother? Geralt kept his facial expressions blank. Eskel or Lambert? What year was it?

His brothers knew where they were. So did Yennefer. That was something then. But it was not the Path, that much he knew. They had never stayed in such a nice room as this on the Path. Nor were they in court though.

Flashes of an unknown castle came to him.

The dungeon again.

Jaskier's frightened face.

No, if Geralt had his way, they would not return to any court for quite a long time.

Then he smelled something else. Familiar, just as safe as Jaskier.

Eskel.

"Geralt?" Jaskier asked. If he expected a response, he didn't show it. And Geralt stayed put in the bed.

Even when there was a knock at the door and creaking from the hinges, Geralt did not move.

He watched Jaskier stumble towards the main room of the house.

“Hmm.”

Eskel.

“I never thought I’d be excited to hear that noise,” Jaskier laughed but it was a quiet, sad exhale. It sounded wrong. Still Geralt didn't move. He wasn't sure how to. Or what he would do after figuring it out.

"No change then?” Eskel's voice was low and Geralt wasn't sure how, but he knew that Eskel and Jaskier were leaning in close to one another.

"Every once in a while, his eyes..." Jaskier paused, gathering his thoughts. "I'll think he'll do something or his eyes will seem like they really comprehend me instead of just...going along with it. I can't tell if it's muscle memory or something similar. He'll brush down the horse, if I ask. Gather wood, if I'm in eyesight. Set and check traps but only if--"

"Only if you're with him. So he hasn't hunted at all by himself?"

At the suggestion, Geralt fought back his instinct to freeze. Why would he leave Jaskier by himself just to hunt? Then he remembered Jaskier was safe. He had left his bard to hunt many times before.

Before the dungeon.

Jaskier's scream as he reached towards him.

A mage cackling.

Geralt centering himself as much as he could to gather his strength to fight.

Losing himself.

Again, Jaskier's voice from the main room bought him forward in time.

"We've tried it a bit with varying levels of success. Me staying in the house didn't work cause he couldn't see me. Outside was a little better because he could smell me but he'd get too distracted. It's not something we do often, let's put it that way."

Geralt couldn't bear to hear the descriptions of his former self. The shell of Geralt. The bivalve of Blaviken. He willed his hands over his face but they refused to move. He wanted control. Gods.

“Is that his cake?”

“I figured that he deserved a treat. You both did.”

“It’s so ridiculous. I love it!”

“Of course you do, bard. Now where is my brother?”

"Through to my bedroom. I think he had a nightmare last night. I couldn't tell, quite honestly. See if you can coax him out and we'll eat."

"Cake for breakfast?"

"It's his birthday!" Jaskier sounded insulted on his behalf.

My birthday.

Geralt finally moved, feeling his fingers against the quilt.

"You're awake." Eskel sounded pleased. Geralt managed to meet his eyes. His brother stopped his tracks, voice lower, gentler than Geralt deserved.

"Oh, I see. You're awake." Eskel leaned in closer and Geralt could smell his excitement, his fury, his everything. “How long have you been awake, eh, Wolf?”

The smell turned bitter now. And Geralt couldn't have that. He couldn't. Not with his brother. Or his bard. He had to try.

“This morning,” Geralt croaked out, throat screaming, muscles taut. “I woke up this morning, I swear it. I knew nothing and just—“

“You just stayed quiet," Eskel finished for him. He soothed Geralt, running a hand down his back. "I'm sorry to have frightened you. I was worried for the bard."

"I don't. I didn't know anything.” Geralt couldn’t stand the sound of his own voice, so weak and uncertain. “Where are we?"

"It's all right," Eskel whispered. He left Geralt's side to pull off his boots and Geralt wanted to cry out. Perhaps even if he could have, he would have resisted the urge. He was grateful that he didn't have to find out. Eskel came back to him at once. He climbed into the bed and gathered Geralt in his arms.

“How long has it been?” Geralt asked, scared to know the answer.

“I saw you last midsummer solstice. The bard came to us when winter had nearly gone. He had you in tow. Along with Triss Merigold.”

“Triss?” Geralt remembered Triss. Gods, he had growled at her.

“You’re lucky that she was the first mage that he ran into after finding you. Rescuing you more like.” Eskel's hands against his skin felt like a balm. Geralt leaned back into him. “She took you both to us right away.”

“And then to here? Where are we besides...” He could smell the salt air from their room. So close to the coast. Just how Jaskier wanted. Perhaps not like this though.

The ocean spray.

Jaskier's laughter turning into tears.

Geralt panicked. Jaskier hurt? No. Jaskier sad. Sad.

Sad.

“The war has escalated. We did not think…the keep was not the right place for you. Not in that state. You needed to be with your bard.”

“My bard…”

Jaskier.

Commotion came close by the door and Geralt looked up. He closed in on himself but still Eskel didn't let go of him. He refused. If anything, he held on tighter.

“I— Eskel?” Jaskier’s eyes widened. “Geralt?”

His bard's scents had always been overwhelming. How one human could feel so many things at once, Geralt didn't know.

Jaskier reached out a hand as though he wanted to touch Geralt, clutch him in a hug but he stopped himself. He had too much momentum though so he changed his directions and grabbed tightly into Eskel.

“Oh thank you.”

Eskel met Geralt's eyes over Jaskier's hair. “An old Witcher incantation. Vesemir found it and I wanted to wait. I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” he lied gruffly.

“Geralt.” The difference in Jaskier’s mannerisms was painful. Something was wrong. Geralt had to fix it. “I’m so so—“ he didn’t get his apology out before Geralt snatched him and held him against his chest.

“I’m sorry. Thank you.” Geralt’s word were choked, muffled against Jaskier’s hair.

“He needs to breathe, Wolf.”

Geralt's grip on Jaskier eased but he didn't let go, not entirely. Jaskier didn't seem to mind. He stayed squished between two Witchers.

"We're not having cake for breakfast," Geralt grumbled.

"But it's your birthday!" Jaskier placed his hand on his chest, as if Geralt's declaration gravely offended him.

"Feel free to go off and find your own meal then," Eskel ordered. "Me and the bard deserve some chocolate cake."

"Chocolate?" Geralt asked. His head perked up of its own violations and Jaskier stifled a giggle. "Hmm."

Eskel reached over Jaskier and tapped Geralt's nose. "Use that scent, Wolf."

"And then what?" Jaskier asked. "Geralt, are you--" Eskel held up a hand before he could ramble. Geralt was grateful. He tucked his face into Jaskier's neck, breathing deeply.

“He might need some more time to adjust.”

“Oh. Do you—“

“Here, bard. You should both stay here. Heal. It wouldn’t have worked if you hadn’t brought him as far as you did.” Eskel leaned away only to dig a pouch out of his pocket and set it on the table next to the bed. "We've got plenty of coin right now thanks to someone's songs still flooding the continent. Consider it your percentage of the profits."

"Are you sure?" Jaskier bit his lip, watching Geralt, forgetting after all this time of not having to worry about Geralt listening to him, that he could hear him from such a short distance away. "I don't want him to be uncomfortable. Perhaps you--"

"Here," Eskel insisted. "There's still trouble brewing out there. It's best not to move either of you."

"Either of us?"

"Did you think we'd let you go so easily? After what you've done for Witchers?"

"I don't need...a reward," Jaskier spat out, "for taking care of your brother. Anyone--"

"I'm not talking about Geralt. I'm talking about your songs." Geralt's arms tightened around Jaskier's waist as Eskel spoke. “But no, anyone wouldn’t have helped a Witcher. You did.”

"Oh."

"It's not about owing a debt. Think of it as...camaraderie. Kinship.” Then, feeling a bit brave and perhaps annoyance at Geralt, Eskel added, “We expect to see you at Kaer Morhen next winter. If the university can spare you.”

"All right. That sounds...that's good." He sounded unsure. Geralt hated that he could smell that on Jaskier. He let out a whimper that had the men above him freeze.

"This is your home, Jaskier. You're not leaving and neither is he. I know my brother can be stubborn," Eskel said firmly, fully aware that Geralt could hear him. "But he would not jeopardize your life. Not now when war is crawling over the Continent."

Jaskier looked as though he wanted to argue again but Eskel put a hand on his shoulder. "I promise you. This is the safest place for both of you right now. Besides, we cannot be sure that Geralt won't fall back under his trance so soon."

"Do you think your cure will not hold?" Jaskier asked nervously.

"I can't be sure." Mostly because I did not cure him in the first place. Eskel didn't say. He looked at his brother who shrugged. “Promise you’ll stay?” Eskel leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Jaskier’s forehead.

“We’ll stay. Until we cannot,” Geralt promised.

“Our bard already saved you once this during war, brother. You best watch him.”

“I’m right here!”

“We know.” Eskel and Geralt said at once. They turned to Jaskier at the same time as well and his eyes went wide. He shook his head and grabbed a hand from each of them.

"Come on, you two. I think if anything, we've earned some cake."