woke up at 4am feeling the weight of my life crushing me, so I’ve been sitting out in my car for the last couple of hours because I just need. to. be. somewhere else.

Feel It Like I Do

ty to @writinglizards for the title and @contemplativepancakes for making sure Geralt didn’t wear a shirt into the bath 💖

At least in the terms of Geralt's long life, they haven't known each other long but Jaskier has fallen hard. He was lost from the start if he's honest, enraptured by golden eyes and silver hair and a heart that cares just this side of too much. But loving someone is not always easy, and loving an emotionally stunted Witcher is all that much harder - especially if your Witcher doesn't believe he deserves good things.

And it doesn't help that Jaskier isn't quite sure how to approach things with Geralt. Normally, things with him start with sex. It's quick and easy and Jaskier has never failed to get someone into bed with him. Normally, when he wants something or someone, he smiles and charms and flirts his way into getting it, but things with Geraly have never been that simple. And not for a lack of trying.

But Geralt doesn't even realize he's being flirted with, which is a tragedy. Nor does he notice now when Jaskier picks up herbs he's getting low on. Geralt is thankful and appreciative but dense as stone and Jaskier finds himself lost, unsure of how to approach this wonderful, difficult man that destiny has brought to him. He figures it out unexpectedly on a dreadfully damp and foggy day - in the middle of a swamp, of all places.

So maybe Geralt had asked him to stay back at camp with Roach, but Jaskier's never seen a water hag for himself and if he's going to write about them, he'll have to have the details correct.

The first time he gets mud chucked at him, he grumbles and complains, but he can hear Geralt's chiding voice in his head reminding him he should have stayed at camp and he holds his ground. A little mud in his face is nothing for the chance to see Geralt at work.

Geralt dispatches of the hags - there are three of them, in all - without much trouble, but he earns himself a pretty hefty swipe for his trouble and when he returns to Jaskier, he's favouring his left arm. Jaskier frowns, reaches out before he can think better of it, but Geralt just brushes past him and toward their camp.

Jaskier follows at a safe distance. Geralt doesn't much like to talk after he completes a contract, or at all when he's taken a potion, so Jaskier keeps quiet and sits across from him when he makes it to their camp. He watches as Geralt hauls his pack into his lap, wincing still as he rummages through it and he wants to help. Jaskier aches to reach across and take the bag from Geralt's hands, to find whatever is it he needs. To help. He knows Geraly would never allow it, but he crosses over to sit next o him anyway.

"Can I do anything?" he asks. Geralt just grunts at him in response and Jaskier sighs. Instinctively, he reaches out and touches a hand to Geralt's good shoulder and Geralt freezes under him.

Immediately, Jaskier realizes he's made a mistake. Geralt tenses up under him, his whole body stiffening at the touch, but then he does something Jaskier would not have expected. He leans into it.

Jaskier holds his breath, afraid to move lest Geralt realize what he's doing and pull away, but his heart is racing and that, apparently, is what breaks the spell. They've known each other a little over three years now and Geralt has never allowed him to so much as touch him before, not more than a simple brush of their shoulders as they walk side-by-side and Jaskier is overwhelmed.

When Geralt turns to him, he looks surprised, almost embarrassed and when Jaskier opens his mouth to speak, Geralt rises to his feet and stalks off out of sight. But Jaskier is determined, so he picks Geralt's pack up from the ground and replaces the vials that spilled from it in his haste to escape. Setting it with the rest of their things, Jaskier turns to lighting the fire and laying out bedrolls. It's the least he can do to ensure things are as comfortable for Geralt as they can be when he returns.

And he does, a couple of hours later, silent as always. But he's given Jaskier something to go off, a brief glimpse into what Geralt actually wants but won't allow himself, and Jaskier, armed with this new information, is determined to give it to him. It's not much, but it's a step in the right direction.

For the next few days, they're in and around town, so Jaskier keeps a close eye on Geralt, especially his interactions with others. He's not sure how he never noticed before, the way Geralt stands taller, straighter when other people are around, or the way his whole body goes stiff when someone approaches him unprompted. He's bracing himself for the worst; for pain and hate, like the words spat at him in the streets, and Jaskier finds himself wondering if Geralt has ever felt a kind touch that wasn't paid dearly for.

But Jaskier knows now that that's something he wants; Geralt longs for kind touches, like anyone who's been denied for so long, and Jaskier hates the people who have made him feel like he's not allowed. And since no one else is willing, Jaskier will have to do it himself.

He starts small that very afternoon, stepping a little closer to Geralt's side as they make their way out of town. He isn't pushed away and if Geralt notices his proximity, he doesn't mention it, so when they lay down to sleep that night, Jaskier lays his bedroll out next to Geralt's. He'll be a little further from the fire, but the late spring weather is warm enough that it shouldn't matter.

When he wakes in the morning, Geralt had shifted and he's further away than he normally sleeps. It's frustrating, but Jaskier isn't one to back down from a challenge - especially not where Geralt's well-being is concerned.

So that night, he tries a new tactic. Maybe if he can get Geralt to initiate the touch himself, he won't be so quick to pull away. They find themselves at an inn, so Jaskier's initial plan of closeness through cold isn't going to work as well as he had hoped, but when they arrive the inn is old and cold enough that it just might work.

Once they've laid down for the night, he wraps himself in the scratchy blanket provided for them and stares out into the room. Geralt has made himself a bed on the floor - much to Jaskier's displeasure. It would make things so much easier if Geralt would just climb up here and sleep with him.

"I'm cold," he whispers into the darkness. There's nothing at first, then a rustling and footsteps fading away and returning. A very small part of him hopes that Geralt will come back and lay down next to him, but as always, he doesn't.

"Take this," Geralt says, draping something heavy over him. Jaskier turns to sit up, but Geralt is already moving away, back to his makeshift bed on the floor.

Jaskier resists a sigh of defeat, if only because Geralt would hear him, and settles back into bed, pulling the new blanket up over his shoulders. Only it isn't a blanket and when Jaskier inhales, Geralt's scent engulfs him. A quick grope around tells him the new addition to his bed is Geralt's travelling cloak, thick and woollen and likely warmer than the thin blankets that they carry with them. Despite the failure of his plan tonight, Jaskier can't feel entirely disappointed, though he worries that the way his heart thumps heavily against his chest is obvious to Geralt, sleeping only a few feet away.

After failing to fall asleep that night, surrounded by Geralt's scent, Jaskier takes a different approach. It's probably easier for him to reach out to Geralt first, but he wants Geralt to be comfortable with touch and he continues his attempt to get Geralt to reach out to him.

He pretends to be hurt or to have an itch somewhere he can't scratch himself, but Geralt never falls for it and Jaskier just gets more and more frustrated. On the one hand, he can understand why, after however many years of being met only with hate and disgust, Geralt would seclude himself. But Jaskier has never treated him that way and all he wants is to help. Because he knows how it feels to go without, to spend weeks alone without the faintest trace of human contact. It's awful, he can't even imagine the need for it after years. There are occasional visits to brothels in the bigger cities, but even then touch is a luxury paid for when Geralt can find someone who'll have him. Because he's a Witcher. Because he's inhuman.

Only Jaskier has never seen him that way, not even in the very beginning of this complicated relationship, and he longs for Geralt to understand that. After Geralt has been turned away from brothels, Jaskier has considered offering it himself. He could set his own feelings aside to give Geralt what he needs, but he suspects Geralt would see it as nothing more than a pittance and that's the last thing Jaskier wants him to think. Geralt is so much more than what everyone thinks and says about him and Jaskier is on a mission to prove that. A mission that apparently starts with convincing Geralt himself.

So one night, when Geralt is called out to take care of a wraith that's been haunting the village graveyard, Jaskier follows him. Geralt hasn't been sleeping well lately, and Jaskier has insisted on him sitting this one out, but they need the coin and what Jaskier earned at the tavern last night won't even cover their room for another night. So Geralt, exhausted and worn out, traipses up to the cemetery unknowingly with Jaskier in tow.

Jaskier sits and waits as Geralt disappears into the crypt, but he keeps an ear out for anything that could mean Geralt's in trouble. It doesn't take long before he hears the sounds of a fight, and right from the start, it doesn't sound good. Then abruptly, silence and nothing more.

Jaskier aches to run in after him and make sure he's okay. His fingers twitch against his thighs, and he runs through what he'd do over and over in his head, but he knows there isn't much he can do against a wraith. Something physical, maybe, but this is somewhere he can't really help. His heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest and without realizing it, Jaskier's on his feet and heading to the entrance of the crypt when he spots Geralt, staggering through the arch and toward him.

Immediately, relief floods through him and his legs shake but manage to hold him well enough to get to Geralt. Without thinking, Jaskier ducks under Geralt's arm, pulling it around his neck and helping him back toward camp. He's surprised at how well he manages to support Geralt's weight, and it's not until they reach the unlit fire at their camp that Jaskier realizes how much of Geralt is pressed against him. And for the first time, he panics.

He helps Geralt down to sit on a stump near the fire pit and while Geralt sits and catches his breath, he continually assures Jaskier that he's fine. By now, Jaskier knows he can hear Geralt's heartbeat, how fast it's racing right now, and he knows the words are just to placate him. He knows Geralt must be injured but he doesn't trust Geralt to tell himself, so as much as he hates to push further than Geralt is ready for, Jaskier starts unbuckling his armour.

He stands behind him, laying each piece out carefully on the ground next to them, keeping an eye out for any hesitation, but Geralt seems resigned to this. It's not until his armour is off and piled neatly, and he's in nothing more than his tunic, that Geralt flinches when Jaskier reaches for him.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier breathes. "I can't see how bad it is with this on, can I-" He doesn't even finish the question before Geralt gives a curt nod and drops his gaze to the ground. He lifts his arms to let Jaskier pull it off, wincing as his muscles pull.

There's bruising all the way down his side and Jaskier fists his hands in Geralt's tunic, pushing out the anger that always accompanies seeing him like this. Maybe if the people who cursed him in the street could see him now, they'd think better of Witchers. Then again, he supposes, most of them are probably beyond changing. He shakes his head to keep from wondering about how it happened and steps away to find salve and bandages.

When he does, he digs a spare piece of linen from the bottom of his pack, using it to wipe away any remaining blood where the skin is broken. Geralt lets him, sitting still until Jaskier spreads salve on the worst of his wounds. He winces then and pulls away, turning to scowl at him.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier breathes, " just- please, let me help." After a moment, Geralt turns back around and rests his elbows on his knees, relenting.

Jaskier is as gentle as he can be, though suspects the only reason he's allowed to do this is because Geralt, despite his many talents, can't reach his own back properly to do it himself. It doesn't stop Jaskier, once he's finished bandaging him, from brushing his fingertips down Geralt's back.

He doesn't mean to, doesn't even realize he's doing it at first, but Geralt presses back into the touch and Jaskier tries again. He doesn't want to take advantage, but Geralt's muscles are tense under his hands and he knows if he can just get Geralt to let him, he can ease that stress.

Jaskier eases into it, touching him softly and just letting his hands drift over Geralt's skin to start. And slowly, Jaskier can feel him relax under his hands and he risks a little more pressure. Geralt's breath comes a little quicker as Jaskier's hands slide forward over his shoulders, but Jaskier pauses, rubbing his thumb soothingly over Geralt's collarbone until he feels the muscles there relax again.

Jaskier is elated to be allowed such a simple thing and he revels in the heat of Geralt's skin under his hands, the scent of his hair, though tinged with dirt and sweat. He lets himself get caught up in it, slipping his hands further down Geralt's chest and back up to rub the sides of his neck. Geralt's head drops back against his stomach, a soft groan slipping between his lips. Jaskier stiffens, afraid that he's pushed too far, but when he looks down, Geralt seems relaxed - more relaxed than he's seen him.

It's so rare that Jaskier - or anyone, he suspects - gets to see Geralt like this, that he feels almost like he's intruding on a private moment. He knows it's only due to exhaustion that Geralt submits so easily to him now, but he likes to believe a part of it has to do with trust as well.

Jaskier brings his hands back to Geralt's shoulders, fingertips pressing into the stiff muscle and working out the knots. He tries to concentrate, but Geralt keeps letting out soft little huffs of breath that are incredibly distracting and quite often he finds himself losing focus and slipping too far forward. He realizes his mistake when his fingers brush over a nipple and Geralt shudders under him.

Jaskier withdraws as Geralt sits forward shifting awkwardly. This time he knows he's pushed too far - accidentally, but he doubts that matters now. Jaskier shuts his eyes and as Geralt shrugs out from under his hands, he lets him go. When he rises to his feet, Jaskier realizes what the problem is and he hates himself for the initial heat that runs through him. He rips his gaze from where Geralt's cock is hard in his trousers, but he knows he's too late and he knows Geralt has seen him looking.

Geralt turns away and Jaskier curses himself as the Witcher stalks off into the dark. He tries to tell himself it wasn't his fault, but maybe he shouldn't have tried anything at all. He didn't mean to push, he didn't mean to turn him on and he definitely didn't mean to see. But Geralt was definitely aroused and the fact that Jaskier is the one who affected him like that is something he struggles to reconcile.

As far as his progress in getting Geralt to open up, this incident has a negative effect. Geralt closes himself off again afterward and Jaskier is upset with himself for taking advantage because it was the first time Geralt let him get that close and he went and fucked it up. For both of them. But he has to keep trying because Geralt does so much and gets so little. And he never takes anything for himself so Jaskier wants to try and give something back.

So he starts small again because he knows Geralt's trust isn't easily earned, and he finds his progress hasn't been undone as much as he'd expected. Geralt doesn't pull away when Jaskier walks close and even when their hands brush together, he seems unconcerned about it. Which is a relief and Jaskier doesn't think too much about why. He wants Geralt to adjust to his touch in any context, though since the incident with the wraith, Jaskier can't help thinking about making him feel good in other ways. It's a dream and nothing more, but it's in his mind nonetheless. He just wants Geralt to be more open, to be able to let himself have something good besides the sex he pays for.

For months, Jaskier works tirelessly to acclimatize Geralt to soft and gentle touches. He puts his own needs and desires aside in favour of trying to convince the most stubborn man he's ever met that not all touch has to be bad. On occasion, Geralt relents, but it's only when he's injured or exhausted and while it's a small victory, Jaskier will take what he can get.

But after a little while, Geralt seems to realize what Jaskier is doing. He doesn't back off like Jaskier expected him to. On the contrary, he'll even give a little back on occasion. If he's trying to hold Jaskier back, more often he'll press a hand to his shoulder rather than grabbing his clothes and pulling him back. The first time it happens, Jaskier is so surprised he stops dead in his tracks. But he appreciates the effort.

Then, one night, Gerallt surprises him.

It's been over a year now since the wraith incident and Jaskier always keeps that night in the back of his mind, reminding himself not to be too bold when Geralt gives him an inch. But he still thinks about it all the time, how he got Geralt hard with only his hands and how he so desperately wants to do it again, he just needs Geralt to let him. And it's not that things are going badly between them, but Jaskier has no delusions of anything like that happening again. Especially not intentionally.

They're in Temeria, staying at a little in that looks like it's seen better days and they've only just paid for their room when Geralt goes off saying he has to do something. Jaskier's sure something is heading to the local whorehouse and he wants to tell him he doesn't need to, but Geralt is determined and Jaskier keeps quiet. He heads up to their room alone.

He feels helpless and he doesn't know what he's supposed to do because he can't just come out and tell Geralt to fuck him instead. He wants to be able to, but it's so much more than just sex for him, even if maybe it's not for Geralt. But he wants Geralt to know that there's an alternative to how he's been living, that Jaskier is here to offer him more than just soft touches and a conversational companion. Geralt can get what he needs from someone who loves him, someone who wants to be with him. He can have kindness and affection without having to pay for it. He could be there for Geralt if he'd just let him. But every time he tries to offer, the words fail him.

Jaskier pushes the thoughts aside in favour of tidying the room and organizing their things before heading down to find his own company for the evening. He orders an ale for himself and sits at a table near the low-burning fire, keeping an eye on the crowd, but no one strikes his fancy tonight. If he's honest with himself, it's been a while since he's been truly dedicated to pleasing himself rather than Geralt.

He only stays long enough to finish his drink and by the time it's gone, he's still alone so he heads back to the room alone. Only when he opens the door, he comes face-to-face with Geralt, looking a little sheepish.

"I had a bath poured," Geralt says. "If you want."

Jaskier does his best not to show his confusion, but he's speechless trying to figure out why Geralt would order him a bath. The only words he can manage to get out are "I don't need it" and he regrets it immediately. He quickly corrects himself adding, "go ahead. I'm sure you would enjoy it."

Geralt doesn't look at him and for a second, Jaskier thinks he's offended him, but when he really looks at him, Geralt looks... conflicted, like he's struggling with himself.

"Join me?" he asks so quietly Jaskier almost doesn't hear him.

Oh. "Are you sure?" he asks, watching for any sign of hesitation, but if Geralt is wary of what he's offering, he doesn't show it. He just nods quietly and Jaskier is still trying to figure out what's happening because this is very unlike Geralt and he doesn't want to agree to something if Geralt is going to be uncomfortable about it later.

But he seems anything but uncomfortable. Geralt undresses like it's the most casual thing in the world and Jaskier catches him as he's unbuttoning his trousers, tugging his shirt loose. He finds himself staring, watching the way Geralt moves as he drops his arms backs to his sides, and Geralt notices. Just as Jaskier turns his head to look away, Geralt steps toward him and catches his attention again.

He reaches out, undoing the top few buttons on Jaskier's shirt and despite his careful composure, Jaskier's throat goes dry and he doesn't know what to do with himself. Geralt has never willingly let Jaskier get this close to him unless they're asleep and Jaskier is starting to feel like maybe all of his hard work has paid off.

"You can't bathe in your clothes," Geralt says by way of explanation which, Jaskier supposes, is true. When he looks up from where Geralt's hands are on his shirt, Geralt is looking at him so softly, almost nervously, and Jaskier's skin flushes under the attention. He wants so badly to close the rest of the distance between them, but Geralt is already putting himself out here in such a huge way and Jaskier want to let him take this at his own pace. Whatever this is.

He does reach out cautiously, letting his fingers brush over Geralt's shoulder and when he's met with no resistance, he lets his palm settle. And Geralt takes another small step forward, returning to Jaskier's buttons.

"Why do you always want to touch me?" he asks. Jaskier moves his head to meet his eyes, but Geralt is avoiding him, his focus solely on getting Jaskier's shirt undone. He hadn't realized Geralt had been quite that attentive. He'd thought his little advances could have been passed off as just trying to be closer or, well, something. But he should have known better.

"When was the last time someone touched you with kindness?" he asks and this time Geralt's head snaps up, eyes meeting his with confusion. "When was the last time someone touched you without getting anything in return?"

"Last winter," Geralt says without hesitation and the quickness of his response only makes Jaskier's heart sink further.

"Not every touch has to be hard and biting," Jaskier breathes. His hands rise on their own, softly wrapping around Geralt's wrists and lowering his hands from their task. "Not every kind gesture has to be transactional. You deserve good things just for the sake of it."

"You don't have to do that-"

"Geralt," Jaskier says a little more firmly, "if you don't understand by now that I care about you, I don't know how to convince you." Well, that's not entirely true, but he's taking things at Geralt's speed, not his own. "I know I don't have to do that, I don't have to do anything and yet, here I am. I want you to know I'm here for you."

Geralt shifts his weight, looking anywhere but at Jaskier like he's not sure how to process this. Maybe it's a good thing Jaskier can never find the words to tell him everything. Jaskier's heart beats a million times a minute as he takes a step forward into Geralt's space. He reaches out, meeting Geralt's eyes again as he presses his palms to his chest. Slowly, cautiously, he pushes his hands up Geralt's chest, slipping over his shoulders and around the back of his neck.

They're so close now that Jaskier can smell the oils on him and he realizes Geralt must have taken a lot of care in choosing them because the scents he picks up on are lavender and cedarwood, two of his favourites. And his chest constricts at the thought of Geralt putting that much effort into anything so frivolous, especially for someone else. Especially for him.

When he meets his eyes again, they're soft and every instinct is telling him to lean in, to press his lips against that soft mouth but the last time he pushed too hard, he fucked it all up. This time feels like something real and he doesn't want to risk making another mistake.

But he's leaning in without realizing and Geralt meets him halfway, bumping their foreheads together. All Jaskier can hear is the sound of his own breath and the blood rushing in his ears like thunder. He shuts his eyes and Geralt tips his head just so, bumping their noses together. And if Jaskier is feeling this overwhelmed by their closeness, he can't possibly imagine how Geralt is feeling right now.

"Jask..." he breathes and Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut and moves without thinking.

He leans in, just barely brushing his lips against Geralt's. He feels his breath against him as he draws back, hears a soft little noise that sounds something like relief and then Geralt's leaning in again and kissing him in earnest. His mouth slots against Jaskier's like that's what it was made for, hot and wanting, but Geralt seems unsure of what to do with his hands.

Jaskier never considered what with Geralt's want for a gentle touch that he might also want to touch. His hands hover in mid-air, just shy of brushing Jaskier's hips like he's never done this before, but it doesn't take much encouragement. Jaskier takes Geralt's hands and presses them against his own hips and it's all the direction Geralt needs to be given. He slides his hands up Jaskier's sides, pushing under his shirt and the heat from his skin sends a shudder up Jaskier's spine.

He moans softly against Geralt's lips, sliding his own hands up to tangle in his hair and Geralt hums appreciatively in response, one warm hand sliding up to the center of his back to hold him close. His lips part against Jaskier's, deepening the kiss and gods, Jaskier has never thought about how Geralt would kiss, but now that he's been given the chance, he doesn't hold back. And once he gets his hands on him, he doesn't let go.

Jaskier absolutely delights in how tactile Geralt is. Even his mouth doesn't leave his skin, straying from his lips only to press against his jaw and slide down his neck. Jaskier's head tips back giving him better access and Geralt groans against his skin, a low rumbling sound that rips right through him. The low simmering in his guts spikes and he wants to lean into the touch and press himself against Geralt but he draws back instead, not that Geralt lets him get far. Geralt looks at him with big, dark eyes and whatever reservations Jaskier was about to voice die on his tongue.

His breathing is shallow and as he meets Geralt's eyes, he can feel his chest heave with each breath. Geralt looks at him like he's just seeing him for the first time and he reaches between them, tugging Jaskier's shirt up over his head before slipping his fingers beneath the waist of his trousers. Jaskier tips his head down, watching as Geralt's fingers work open the clasps. Then Geralt pauses, tips Jaskier's chin up to look at him and kisses him again, hard and eager.

Jaskier's breath pulls from his lungs and he finds himself walking backward. When his knees hit the tub, he stumbles a little, but Geralt winds his arms around his waist, bracing him. When Geralt draws away again, Jaskier is breathless, and the way Geralt's hands move back to his trousers again doesn't help matters.

His hands slide over Jaskier's hips, catching on the silky fabric and pushing his trousers down. Jaskier holds his breath as the fabric slides over his heated cock and Geralt's hands slip back over his ass, forcing the roll of his hips. He's already half-hard, but he can hardly control the state of his cock with Geralt pawing at him like this. Jaskier's eyes drop shut and he lets out a low, breathy "oh" as his cock presses into Geralt's hip.

And he realizes maybe he doesn't have to be so cautious with Geralt after all. Jaskier risks a quick roll of his hips and Geralt rumbles pleasantly, pushing back against him. He kisses him again then, slow and sweet and just this side of too much and Geralt moves against him, lips parting as he presses against Jaskier's chest. He's so close and Jaskier can feel every inch of him, every tiny little movement of muscle and Geralt is hard against him which is a feeling infinitely better than any of Jaskier's wildest dreams.

He aches to touch him, to feel more than just the press of Geralt's cock against his hip, wonders if he could get a hand around him because he feels huge. Geralt breaks away to kiss Jaskier's jaw, down the side of his throat and Jaskier can't help the little gasp that slips from his lips. In a hundred years, he never expected Geralt to be like this when he was finally allowed free reign to touch.

Before he realizes it, Jaskier has a hand between them, snaking down to cup Geralt through his trousers. Geralt's hips jerk into the touch and he rumbles low in the back of his throat. Jaskier pulls back. He thinks he's gone too far again, that Geralt isn't ready for so much, but then Geralt's arms wind tightly around him and his feet lift the floor. A rush of excitement goes through him and he loops his arms around Geralt's neck as they head toward the bed.

"What about the bath?" he asks and Geralt meets his eyes with a dark look.

"Later," he growls and Jaskier feels the vibrations all the way through him. He'd mention the bath getting cold, but he doesn't think it would matter; Geralt is nothing if not focused and Jaskier is thrilled to be the one at the center of his attention. He's not about to sabotage it over a little cold water.

Geralt drops onto the mattress with Jaskier in his lap. He shuffles back, stacking the pillows behind him with one hand, the other still firmly curled around Jaskier's hip. When he's satisfied, he slips his other arm around Jaskier, too, tugging him closer and Jaskier groans at the way their cocks grind against each other. Geralt is still maddeningly hidden, tucked away just out of Jaskier's reach, which is so unfair he could cry. Because he's thick and hard and pressing up under Jaskier's balls in a way that makes him needy.

Then one of Geralt's hands slips down, squeezing his ass as he lifts him and pulls him close against him. His fingers slip down, pressing between Jaskier's cheeks and Geralt's trapped cock is pushed to the back of his mind.

Jaskier's eyes flutter shut as Geralt's fingers graze against his hole. He tips his head down, pressing his nose into Geralt's neck, speechless for the first time in a long time. If anyone had told him a week ago that this would happen, he never would have believed them, might have even told them off for teasing him and yet.

Jaskier rolls his hips encouragingly, and Geralt's mouth finds his shoulder, teeth grazing the smooth skin, but he doesn't give any more than he already is. But his grip is firm and Jaskier is happy just to be in his arms; it's more than he could ever have hoped for, considering Geralt's (apparently prior) aversion to touch. He's enthusiastic about it now, fingers lipping against Jaskier's hole in repetition, pressing just a little firmer each time. And Jaskier breathes praise into his skin, humming softly where he can't find the right words to tell Geralt how he feels without chasing him away. Because he loves him too fiercely already and Geralt is only just learning how to accept him as a friend. Although after this, maybe.

Geralt shifts under him, reaching out and Jaskier's eyes follow his hand to where it dips into one of their packs of the floor. He nips at Geralt's jaw, running his mouth along the line of it, and as Geralt settles back into position, he tips his head to catch Jaskier's mouth with his own. His gentleness is gone now, replaced with eager intent and for a moment, Jaskier is so wholly captivated by his mouth, that he doesn't realize what Geralt is doing with his other hand.

Cool, slick fingers slide against Jaskier's hole, prodding gently at the muscle and Jaskier nearly jumps in surprise. For his movement, he earns a soft huff of a laugh against his lips and that's- well, that's incredible. He draws away, smiling down at Geralt even as Geralt's fingers press into him, stretching Jaskier around him. Teeth dig into his bottom lip but Jaskier keeps his eyes open, enthralled by the little half-smirk that remains on Geralt's face, by the wonder in his eyes as he slides into Jaskier like that's where he belongs.

"Fuck," Jaskier groans, worrying his lip between his teeth. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, but he doesn't miss the way Geralt's grin spreads as he gives a couple of short thrusts into him.

Geralt is unsurprisingly quiet, apparently too caught up in Jaskier's pleasure to worry about his own. And he's barely giving Jaskier a chance to think, much less worry about anything but Geralt's fingers inside him. It's not exactly how Jaskier was expecting this to happen - not that he ever really believed it would - but Geralt seems more than happy with things as they are. Next time, Jaskier decides, if he gets a next time - he'll show Geralt just how good a gentle touch can be and he'll drag those noises out of him one way or another.

When Geralt gets a third finger into him, Jaskier groans impatiently. His hips work hard, fucking himself on Geralt's fingers and gods it feels good. And he needs this. As much as he wants to prove to Geralt that he's good and deserving of kindness, he needs this, too.

"I'm good," Jaskier huffs, but Geralt seems inclined to let him continue like this. His eyes are dark and focused where they roam over Jaskier's body and Jaskier can feel his cock beneath him. He feels the way it jerks, in need of attention, when Jaskier whimpers or pushes his hips down and he wonders if Geralt is already imagining the feeling of him, hot and tight around him. Jaskier lets out a soft moan at the thought, but it's not until he pushes Geralt's shoulders back against the wall, that he seems to break the Witcher's spell.

Geralt looks up at him slowly, meeting his gaze, but as soon as his fingers slip from Jaskier's body it's like a dam has broken. Both of them fumble with Geralt's trousers, getting them undone and shoving them open just far enough that Jaskier can pull Geralt's cock from its confines. He gives him a quick stroke before shifting forward and sitting back on him.

The stretch is a lot more than he was expecting, but he rocks back onto him, easing the way without having to slow down. Because Geralt's fingers dig into his hips and his breath comes in short heavy puffs. And when Jaskier lets himself relax when he sinks a little lower, Geralt's eyes roll back and he moans so sweetly. It's a sound Jaskier will never forget for the rest of his life and he makes it his job to draw as many of those sounds from Geralt's lips as he can.

When Jaskier fully seats himself, he feels like he can't breathe. He's so full of Geralt's cock that he can barely think straight, but his body moves on its own. He rocks his hips forward without rising up and Geralt follows the motion, pushing somehow even deeper into him.

"Oh fuck," Jaskier whines, lifting his hips to slide up Geralt's cock. He drops back onto him just as quickly and the growl he gets in response makes his own cock throb.

When Jaskier realizes just how much Geralt likes letting go, likes letting him take the lead, he leans back, bracing himself on Geralt's thighs. He works his hips quick and hard while Geralt touches him. Geralt keeps one hand on his hip, but the other slips up his stomach, fingers sliding softly up the column of his throat and over his jaw. Jaskier likes it almost as much as he likes the cock up his ass. He preens under the attention, presses his chest out, moans a little louder when Geralt's fingers press into his skin.

It's rushed and inelegant, but Jaskier's heart swells when Geralt tugs him into a bruising kiss. Jaskier pants against him, moaning into Geralt's mouth as they move as one. Like this, he can feel every little change in Geralt's body and he has to wonder if it's not similar to how Geralt always seems to know how he's feeling. A shuddering moan escapes Geralt's lips, a little gasp, and Jaskier knows he's getting close. He loves it, loves to know he's the one making Geralt feel this way. He's the one with Geralt's cock inside him and his hands on him and even as he leans forward to rest against his chest, it feels unreal.

Geralt's hips snap up and he wraps his arms around Jaskier's shoulders, holding him close as he buries his face in his neck. He's mumbling something, but Jaskier can't quite make out the words, muffled by his own skin.

"Beautiful," Jaskier huffs, tilting his head and pressing his nose into Geralt's hair. He presses his cock into Geralt's stomach, rutting against him with every forward thrust.

When Geralt comes, he pulls his knees up, pushing Jaskier closer against him and letting out a moan that nearly has Jaskier coming undone right after him.

He works Geralt through it, fucking him steadily until Geralt's grip on him loosens and his legs drop back against the mattress. He mumbles a stifled "fuck, Jas," and pushes his fingers up Jaskier's back and into his hair, seeking out his mouth and kissing him softly.

Jaskier shifts without breaking the kiss and Geralt shifts under him, his fingers tightening in his hair. But when Jaskier moves to lift himself out of his lap, one of Geralt's hands drops to his hip, holding him down.

"No," he breathes, "don't stop."

"O-okay," Jaskier huffs, "do you want to-" Geralt cuts him off with a swift kiss and a quick snap of his hips. Fuck, he's still hard. Jaskier shifts his hips and when he's met with a groan, he looks up to meet Geralt's eyes. "Touch me," he whispers and Geralt's tongue darts out between his lips before one hand curls around the base of Jaskier's cock.

He lets out a sob, reaching out to curl a hand around the back of Geralt's neck. He's wanted to say those words for longer than he can even remember now, and in all that time, he was never expecting Geralt to be quite so eager to comply.

His hand is warm, even around Jaskier's heated cock, and he grips him firmly, stroking straight up to the head. He squeezes around the crown, rubbing his thumb underneath and Jaskier drops his head forward against him, hips jerking forward against his hand.

"Geralt-" he chokes, "oh, Geralt."

It takes him a moment to adjust to the additional sensation, but Jaskier manages to find a rhythm that suits them both, fucking back onto Geralt's cock and forward into his hand. He's already veering quickly toward the edge and when he shifts in Geralt's lap, he realizes he's not the only one.

Geralt's mouth drops open against his own, a soft moan escaping as Jaskier squeezes around him. Gods, it's barely been any time since he came and already Geralt looks like he's struggling to hold on.

"Geralt," Jaskier breathes, bumping their noses together, "are you close?" The only answer he gets is a quiet hmm, but it's as much confirmation as Jaskier needs. He works his hips a little quicker, wraps both arms around Geralt's neck and kisses him. He nips at Geralt's lips and when the pleasure threatens to overwhelm him, he buries his face in Geralt's neck, clenching his fingers in his hair. One hard tug is all it takes to push Geralt over the edge a second time and he pulls Jaskier tightly against him.

When Geralt comes again, Jaskier is right there with him. His legs shake under him and only Geralt's arms wound around his back, keep him from toppling over completely. His cock continues to rub against Geralt's stomach and Jaskier has to bite down on the Witcher's shoulder to keep from crying out.

Neither of them moves for a few moments, panting heavily against each other until Geralt shifts to pull out. Jaskier whines at the loss, but it's a weak protest and Geralt appeases him with a soft kiss, rolling Jaskier onto his side so they're facing each other. It isn't until then that reality sets in and Jaskier realizes exactly what they've done.

He opens his mouth to say... something, but Geralt moves closer, cupping his jaw and humming softly against his mouth. It's not a kiss, really, barely a brush of lips before Geralt pushes himself back up again, but it's enough to soothe Jaskier's worries.

"Would you still like that bath?" he asks and Jaskier smiles despite the prospect of very cold bathwater.

"It'll be cold."

"I'll warm it up," Geralt promises, setting a hand on Jaskier's hip.

"Okay."

He does, indeed, warm the water with igni before peeling himself out of his trousers and stepping into the bath. Jaskier watches from the bed. His legs are still a little shaky, but when Geralt tilts his head and spreads his knees it feels like an invitation, one Jaskier isn't willing to turn down.

He crosses to the center of the room, stepping into the warm water and Geralt's hands are on him again, turning him so when he settles he has his back to Geralt's chest. It's nice, leaning back against him like this. Bathing is one of the few indulgences Geralt allows himself and Jaskier is happy to be able to share this with him. Sighing softly, he tips his head back against Geralt's shoulders and runs his hands down Geralt's thighs, smiling as they only spread further apart.

"I like it when you touch me," Geralt hums from behind. His voice is soft and low, so much so that Jaskier doesn't quite hear at first, but as the words register, he smiles.

"I noticed that."

"I don't mean-" he lets out a little scoff, but his hands come up to cover Jaskier's fingers entangling with his own. "I mean like this, the small things."

"Oh?"

"Like when you pretend to be cold so I'll come sleep closer to you." Jaskier starts at that and leans forward to turn and face Geralt.

"You knew I was pretending?"

"Yes."

"And you still-?"

Geralt hums, a low rumbling sound that Jaskier would never tell him reminds him of a cat purring. "I told you," he says, "I like it."

"Well good," Jaskier settles back against him, bringing Geralt's hand up to kiss his palm, "because I have no intention of stopping any time soon."

(ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ ♥ prompts for requests (>‿◠)✌

These are some prompts to use for requests. They have labels, so when you request be sure to use the label and the number so I know which section you got it from. Happy requesting!

Fluff

1. “Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?”

2. “It’s you, it always has been.”

3. “You’re everything I could’ve wanted and more.”

4. “Kiss me.”

5. “Home stopped being a place when you entered my life.” 

6. “You should probably go home.” “But I’m already home.”

7. “You’re an idiot.” “But you love me.”

8. “I’d do anything for you.” 

9. “You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.”

10. “Stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

11. “I’m so proud of you.” 

12. “Could you say that again?” “Were you not listening?” “No I was, I just like hearing your voice.”

13. “I didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much.”

14. “You are my family.”

15. “I’m right here.”

16. “Can you just please hold me?” 

17. “I’m pretty sure (you’re/she’s/he’s/they’re) my soulmate”

18. “You come here often?” “Well considering I work here, yes.”

19. “You know, I think my (mother/father/parents) would be proud if I brought (you/her/him/them) home.” 

20. “I just want to see you happy.”

21. “I haven’t seen (her/him/them) smile like that in ages.” 

22. “You made me a better person. Thank you.” 

23. “I’d rather live in the woods with you than in a mansion with some (girl/boy/person) I barely know.”

24. “This reminded me of you.” 

25. “Your hair is really soft.”

26. “You’re really warm.”

27. “Are you blushing?”

28. “Can I stay here tonight?”

29. “Because I love you.”

30. “I’ve been in-love with you since we were kids.”

31. “I’m never going to leave you. I promise.”

32. “Make a wish!”

33. “I love seeing you smile.”

34. “Why are you wearing my sweater?” “Because it smells like you.”

35. “I just want to be there for you.”

36. “I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”

37. “You’re just a softie.”

38. “You owe me.” “Fine, whatever you like.”

39. “You’re safe now, I’m here.”

40. “Why are you scared of loving?”

41. “You are crushing me right now.”

42. “Darling I love you and all, but please step out fo the kitchen.”

43. “I love you.”

44.“You’re an idiot.” “But I am your idiot.”

45. “Take my hand. Just trust me.”

46. “You’re hurt. Please just let heal it.”

47. “At least let me clean it.”

48. “I told you to take care of yourself.”

49. “You’re the only thing that matters.”

50. “Stay.”

Angst

1. “I’m leaving.” “Of course you are, that’s all you know how to do.”

2. “You started drinking again, didn’t you?” 

3. “You promised you’d stop drinking.” “And you promised you wouldn’t hurt me!″

4.“But it’s my fault right?”

5.“I don’t want to feel this. I want to be numb again.”

6.“You’re lying to me again. Why can’t you just tell me the truth for once?”

7.“I love you.” “No you don’t”

8.“I can’t lose you.” “You already did.”

9.“Did it mean anything to you? Did I mean anything to you?”

10.“How was I such an idiot, to believe that you, out of all people, could ever love me?”  

11.“I loved you.” “Then why did you let (her/him/them) get in between us?”

12.“Maybe they were right, you never did change.”

13.“This is all in my head. It’s all happening in my head.”

14.“Don’t you dare walk away from this!”

15.“What gives you the right to just waltz back into my life after all the pain you’ve caused.”

16.“You’ve changed.”

17.“You win, happy?”

18.“Any other lies left to tell me?”

19.“Why did you wait until I moved on?”

20.“Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like you still love me.”

21.“Its (her/him/them), isn’t it?”

22.“It’s always been (her/him/them).”

23.“When did you stop loving me?”

24.“Let me go.”

25.“You’re not you.”

26.“I miss the old you.”

27.“What happened to their happily ever after?” “Not all love stories get a happily ever after, sometimes it’s just once upon a time.”

29.“Move out of my way before I make you.”

30.“I risked my life for you.”

31.“I never would’ve thought (she/he/they)’d end up with someone else.”

32.“They were perfect for each other.”

33.“I was happier with you.”

34.“I would’ve done anything for you.”

35. “I loved you. I loved you so so much but you hurt me.”

36.“They warned me about this.” “About what?” “You.” 

37.“Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again.”

38.“You broke me.”

39.“You just threw four years of friendship out the window.”

40.“Hasn’t this addiction done enough damage already?”

41.“Sorry doesn’t fix everything.”

42.“You promised.”

43.“I don’t need help! I need an end to this pain.”

44.“What am I in your life? Because as of lately I feel as though I’ve been nothing to you.”

45. “Leave”

46.“I can’t keep playing pretend.”

47.“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave.”

48.“I wish we never met.”

49.“I’m sorry I’m not enough for you.”

50. “You scare me now.”

General

1.“I love you.” “Tell me that when you’re sober.” 

2.“It’s pouring rain why are you here?”

3.“I love you.” “You shouldn’t.”

4.“Where are you?”

5.“What happened?”

6.“Have you been taking care of yourself?”

7.“Is that blood?” “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” “You are literally bleeding.”

8. “Is that my book?”

9. “Are they dead?”

10. “You want to play pretend? Well two can play at that game.”

11.“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

12.“Come back to bed. Please.” 

13.“You’re who they warned me about.” 

14.“Come back.”

15.“You should’ve listened to me.”

16.“I haven’t seen you in days.” 

17.“Are you jealous?”

18.“Cheers, I’ll drink to that.” “You drink everything.” “Cheers!”

19.“Why is there a lion in the room?” 

20.“Is that vodka? At 7 in the morning?”

21. “Can we take this home?”

22. “Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?”

23. “I haven’t seen (her/him/them) smile in months.”

24. “(She/he/they) don’t belong with (her/him/them)!” “Than who do(es) (she/he/they) belong with?” “…..with me.”

25. Come home.”

26. “I hope you’re happy.”

27. “They don’t need to know.”

28. “I made this for you.”

29. “Why is arson always your first answer?”

30. “Is this really the time for jokes?”

31.“Wake me up when it’s over.” 

32.“You look happy.” 

33.“I’m sorry, do I know you?” 

34.“Why can’t I get you out of my head?”

35.“Do you want that?”

36.“Don’t let go.” 

37.“Just let me stay.”

38.“Can I at least tell my side of the story?” 

39.“Do you trust me?” 

40.“Are you flirting with me?”

41.“Is the weight of your sins too heavy?”

42.“Just let me see (her/him/them) one last time. Please.”

43.“Are you afraid to die?”

44.“Are they really ‘just a friend’?”

45.“I wasn’t lying when I told you that I loved you.”

46.“I won’t hurt you.”

47.“Have you been sleeping?”

48.“I didn’t know where else to go.”

49. “It’s not 8:00 AM, it’s 8:00 AM”

50. “We should just play our music louder, then we won’t hear theirs.”- “That’s so much noise.”

Mental Health

1.“I didn’t know where else to go.”

2."you can talk to me about anything"

3."I don't understand but I believe you"

4."I'll stay with you as long as you need me to"

5."take a deep breath"

6."do you want me to give you advice or do you just want me to listen?"

7."you don't have to go through this alone"

8."I'll check on you again tomorrow"

9."you're not broken"

10."let's take a five minute break

11."I love you no matter what your brain tells you"

12."I'm always here if you need anything"

13."please don't talk that way about yourself"

14."let me know if you ever need a ride to therapy"

15."don't forget to take your medication"

16."it's okay to ask for help"

17."I'll go with you for moral support"

18."I don't know how to help you but I can help you find someone who does"

19."do you want to talk about it or would you like a distraction?"

20."you're safe"

21."there is always hope"

22.“I will do this with you, you’re never alone”

23.“No one is perfect.”

24.“I will sit outside this door for hours if that helps.”

25.“This is not your fault.”

26.“You do not owe anyone an apology.”

Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”

1.Holding their hands when they are shaking.

2.Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

3.Traveling long distances just to see them.

4.Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

5.Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

6.Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

7.Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

8.Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

9.Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

10.Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

11.Telling them a dumb joke just to see their smile.

12.Following their family traditions that they enjoy.

13.Singing and dancing to their favorite song.

14.Calming them down when they have a bad dream.

15..Having a tickle fight until you’re breathless.

16.Folding their clean laundry and putting it away.

17.Sharing a soft smile across a crowded room.

18.Bringing them a plate of their favorite sliced fruit.

19.Washing their back/hair in the shower.

20.Sharing your umbrella with them in the rain.

21.Listening to them while they vent.

22.Taking a picture together to print and hang later.

23.Tracing your names together in the sand.

24.Wearing clothes in their favorite color.

25.Doing a chore for them that you know they aren’t fond of.

26.Leaving a plate of food in the microwave for when they have a late shift.

27.Sharing a drink with them from the same straw.

28.Tucking their hair behind their ear to help them get it out of their face.

29.Helping scratch that itch on their back they can’t reach.

30.Pulling a chair out for them to sit down at the table.

31.Wrapping a blanket around them when they are sitting on the couch and watching a show.

32.Throwing away their piles of tissues when they have a cold.

33.Mending an item of their clothing that was ripped.

34.Running out in the middle of the night to get a food item they’re craving.

35.Helping brush their hair after a shower.

36.Making sure to be quiet while they’re taking a nap.

37.Letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt.

38.Giving them your dessert when you eat out because it’s their favorite.

39.Making a goofy face until they notice and laugh.

40.Giving them space when they express wanting to have some time alone.

41.Holding their hand while walking, even if there isn’t a crowd.

42.Holding shopping bags that are too heavy for them.

43.Standing between them and a busy road.

44.Rubbing the back of their hand with a thumb.

45.Giving them a back massage when they flop on the couch or bed.

46.Staying up half the night to finish a game with them.

47.Getting them a coffee just the way they like it.

48.Giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath.

49. Buying them a special treat when you go out shopping.

50. Watching shitty horror movies 

Hey! Buddie prompt for ya, 5+1 as requested 😁

Le prompt: 5 times Buck took care of Eddie and Christopher and the time they took care of him ❤️ I just need soft people showing up for each other, tooth rooting fluff basically 😅

P.S. Please no Established Relationship!

Thank you for the idea! Hope you like it🥰

1.

It was Bucks day off, and Chris had to leave school early because he had head lice. Now Buck wanted to have everything taken care of before Eddie got home that night. He bought lice kits before picking up Chris at school.

“Buck my head itches.” Chris sighed.

“I know bud, but I’ll take care of it. I promise.” Buck smiled.

When they got back to Eddies he washed Chris’s hair then combed it to remove the lice. When he finished he put new sheets on Chris’s bed and threw the old in the wash.

By the time Eddie got home Chris was all tucked in and asleep.

“Thanks Buck.” Eddie smiled. “Do you wanna hang for a bit, maybe have a beer?”

“Sure.” Buck grinned.

“How do you know if you have lice for sure?” Eddie asked.

“Do you think you do?” Buck asked.

“Feel like I keep scratching my head now.” Eddie sighed.

“Here I can check. Just sit down on the kitchen chair and in the light.”

Eddie did and Buck ran his hands though Eddies hair examining it.

“Just your mind playing tricks on you. You only thought you had it because of Chris. No lice.” Buck smiled.

“Thanks.” Eddie smiled.

“Anytime.” Buck nodded.

2.

Buck loved to cook, and cooking for two of his favorite people was something he enjoyed more than almost anything.

“Buck you don’t have to cook for us again.” Eddie laughed.

“I’m not letting you and Chris eat frozen meals or takeout again.” Buck laughed.

“Well my Abuela cooks for us sometimes.” Eddie said almost embarrassed.

“Hey it’s ok. I like to do this. Ok.” Buck smiled reassuringly.

“I just I feel like a failure. Like as a father I should know how to cook. I’ve tried I just I don’t know how.” Eddie sighed.

“I can teach you. Just watch me for now, and later we can have you actually try something with my help of course.” Buck laughed.

“Thank you. For all you do for me and Chris.” Eddie smiled.

“I’d do anything for you.” Buck said softly.

3.

Eddie was running late to get Chris to school on time, which had been a problem in the past. This morning he had a flat tire! So he called the person who was always there for him...Buck.

“Man I got a flat can you come get Chris for school?” Eddie asked.

“Be right over!” Buck said rushing out the door.

Buck hastily drove to Eddies and hopped out of the jeep.

“Buck are you driving me to school!” Chris squealed.

“Not today. I have something I need to do, but your dad is gonna take you in my jeep.” Buck said tossing Eddie his keys.

Eddie had no time to question Buck as him and Chris got in the jeep and hurried to the school. Buck quickly began to change the tire. He got out the spare, crowbar and jack. He was almost done by the time Eddie came back.

“Buck I know how to change a tire.” Eddie said.

“Yeah, and I know how to do it to.” Buck shrugged.

“I know, but I mean you didn’t need to do this for me.”

“I wanted to.”

“I feel like you do too much for me and like I’m a bad friend.” Eddie frowned.

“Eddie you’re an amazing friend.” Buck smiled.

“Ok, but I’m making breakfast to thank you.”

Buck looked at Eddie trying not to laugh.

“Ok fine buying.” Eddie smirked.”

“Ok deal.” Buck said.

4.

Eddie was smacked in the face by a board at work. So of course Buck took him to the dentist, and then went home to help with Chris.

Eddie took a nap and Buck helped Chris with his homework, and made dinner.

“Thanks Buck.” Chris grinned as he’s shoveled a bite of potatoes into his mouth.

“Oh it’s my pleasure. I love having someone to cook for.”

“You’re really good.” Chris nodded. “Dad still hasn’t got it yet, but that’s ok he still tries. If you practice you can get better.”

“That’s right! Now we can watch one movie and then it’s gonna be bed time ok.” Buck said clearing the table.

Which it wasn’t one movie considering how fast Chris feel asleep. Buck spotted Eddie when he was exiting Chris’s room.

“I’m sorry if you wanted to say goodnight.” Buck frowned.

“It’s ok.” Eddie said loudly.

“Ok well maybe we should go to the living room. So we don’t wake him up.” Buck whispered.

“No.” Eddie laughed.

“Eddie Shh.” Buck said putting his finger on Eddies lips.

Eddie licked Bucks finger.

“Let’s go to my bedroom.” Eddie winked.

“Eddie you’re acting weird.”

“No im not.” Eddie said loudly acting offended.

“Fine let’s get you to bed.” Buck sighed.

They got to Eddies room and Eddie grabbed onto Bucks belt.

“What are we gonna do.” Eddie asked.

“You are going to sleep here, and I’m going to sleep on the couch.” Buck said guiding Eddie to the bed.

“Stay here it’s more comfortable.” Eddie smiled patting the bed next to him.

“Ok.” Buck sighed climbing next to Eddie.

He soon felt Eddies hand wandering up his thigh.

“Ok.” Buck said jumping out of the bed. “What’s with you?”

“Nothing.” Eddie said acting annoyed.

“Eddie how many of these did you take.” Buck said grabbing the pills from the dentist.

“Two?”

“Eddie I’m taking these ok. You can have more in the morning, but you definitely didn’t read the label. I knew I should have read it for you.” Buck stopped talking when he realized Eddie was passed out completely in his bed.

5.

Buck was going over to have breakfast with the Diaz’s. He got their favorite donuts, coffee, and a juice for Chris.

“Buck.” Chris grinned

“He buddy.” Buck said scooping him up before sitting him back down and handing him his juice and donut.

“Ugh.” Eddie groaned.

“I’ll be right back.” Buck said following the sound.

Eddie was on the floor messing with the pipes under the bathroom sink.

“What are ya doing? Buck asked leaning in the door way.

Eddie stood up and his white shirt was clinging to his skin showing every muscle. Buck had to force himself to look Eddie in the eyes.

“Would you mind taking Chris to school. I’m kind of a mess.” Eddie said running a hand through his damp hair.

“I’d love to.” Buck grinned. “Then I’ll be back to help you with what ever is happening here.”

Buck went out and told Chris he’d be taking him to school and Chris was over the moon.

“Buck you haven’t taken me in so long!” Chris said.

“I’m sorry buddy. I promise I’ll start doing it more.”

When Buck finally got back to Eddies he went to see how the progress was going. There was now even more water on the floor than before. Eddie stood up.

“Buck I think this might be a little out of our wheelhouse.” Eddie laughed.

“Oh let me take a look.” Buck said slipping and landing directly on top of Eddie:

He didn’t mean to but it took a moment to actually get up, due to the utter shock of being ontop of Eddie....not that he minded it, but that wasn’t really something he ever allowed himself to think about too much.

+1

Buck groaned as he looked at his phone and saw the time. He felt terrible. He swore it had been a few hours since he last checked the time, but it had only been fifteen minutes.

A new text from Eddie appeared on his phone.

“Feeling any better.”

No....not even a little.

“I’m doing ok.”

Another text from Eddie.

“That’s not what I asked. Be over soon.”

Buck quickly called Eddie.

“Hey you ok?.” Eddie asked worriedly.

“Yeah. Great.” Buck lied. “You don’t have to come over.”

“I’m already on my way...Bye.” Eddie said hanging up the phone.

A few minutes later Eddie was right by Bucks bedside.

“What are you doing here. I’m fine.” Buck groaned.

“You aren’t fine. You take care of me so let me take care of you.”

“But...”

“Remember we have eachothers backs. I have soup in the fridge for you and here is a card from Chris.” Eddie said sitting on the edge of the bed.”

Bucks face lit up as he read the card.

“He said he wanted to make you smile.” Eddie said softly.

“He’s always does.” Buck said bringing his hand up to rub his head.

“What are you doing!” Eddie asked.

“Maddie would rub my head when I was sick when I was young.” Buck said.

“Here let me.” Eddie said gently caressing Bucks temple.

“Thank you.”

“Buck you don’t have to thank me I want to do this for you and you help me more than you need to. I don’t know how to repay you for everything.”

“You don’t have to.” Buck yawned before mumbling. “ I do it because I love you.”

Buck was soon asleep and Eddie was just sitting there unsure of what had just happened. Love can mean different things, did he mean in a friendly way, familial way, or did he mean something else. Eddie knew there were times lots of times he felt more, but never really had any idea what was going on in Bucks head.

Eddie called Carla to see if she could stay overnight with Chris. He didn’t wanna leave Buck alone and knew they’d probably need to talk in the morning. Eddie went down stairs and laid on the couch before falling asleep, after a lot of over thinking.

“You’re still here?” Buck asked with a soft smile.

Eddie practically jumped as he woke up.

“Yeah um I didn’t think you should be alone.” Eddie said clearing his throat trying to act calm not looking Buck in those beautiful blue eyes.

“You ok?” Buck said.

“Yes? Are you?”

“I feel better, but you’re acting strange.”

“Ok. Maybe we need to talk. I think I need some clarification.

“Ok?” Buck said sitting next to him on the couch.

“Lastnight you told me.....told me you love me, and I just I wasn’t sure in what way. Like love can mean different things like friends, family, or um a romantic way.” Eddie said avoiding eye contact.

“It can and I do Eddie. Love you in all those ways you’re not just my friend you are family and I am in love with you.”

Eddie looked in shock. Not really expecting Buck to say it.

“Eddie it’s ok if it’s just like a sexual attraction on your part. It doesn’t have to be weird. I hid my feelings so knowing you don’t feel it should help me get over it.

“Sexual?” Eddie choked.

“Yeah you were getting a little handsy after the dentist you took a little bit too much medicine and you were trying to....well I’m not 100% what you were trying.”

Eddie took both his hands shielding his face in embarrassment before Buck pullled them away and looking him in the eyes.

“It’s ok Eddie just talk to me.” Buck said softly.

“It’s not just sexual for me...I mean part of it is, but there’s so many layers to how I feel for you. I feel the same way you do.”

Buck squeezed Eddies hand. “Guess we’ll just have to see where this goes...I mean if you’re interested.

“I am.” Eddie smiled before bringing Bucks hand up and placing a soft kiss on his knuckle.

All That Remains, Chapter 6: The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Conjure [Part 3]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Obiyukiweek 2020, Day 2: Nobility Exhibit self discipline. Show respect to authority. Obey the law. Administer justice. Protect the innocent. Respect women.

Ah, but we have gotten ahead of ourselves once again, have we not? So wrapped up were we in lies and glamour that we have forgotten our girl on the shore, heart dripping in her hands.

It’s all right. She’ll forgive us. Little girls always do.

Let us not leave her waiting.

A girl stands on the shore, red shoes wet in her hands, with none of the answers she seeks. Or rather, none of the ones she was prepared to have.

Alive, the river had told her. Away, said the darkest fears of her heart.

Never had she thought that dead would seem the better option.

We are complex beings; animals with four-chambered hearts. We are meant to hold more than a single thought, a single emotion, a single wish. But still, still-- it is a poisoned gift when elation and desolation can exist beside one another, when they can be flavored by guilt and betrayal.

She is a just a child, and yet a storm brews in her chest, too large for to contain. Beneath it, she is but an island, alone at sea.

So when the boat comes, a humble thing with no explanation, no expectations, she steps on it. What else can she do, when there is no other way to leave the hurricane behind her?

Her rooms are dark when she returns to them.

Kiki moves, pale hair catching the last light of the hall. “Where are your matches? I can’t--”

“No.” Her voice feels wrong in her mouth, too sour and too low. For a moment, Shirayuki wonders if this is truly her body, or if she has stood in the shadows too long and becomes someone else.

“I mean,” she begins again, sounding more like herself with every word, “there’s no need. I’m going to bed.”

Kiki stills behind her. “Do you need help?”

Yes. “No.” Her fingers fumble at the clasps of her gown. “I wore one of my old dresses tonight. From when I...”

Still felt like myself. Her hands clench, cotton soft beneath her fingers, and for once she longs for something coarser, for a wool that might itch or a lace that might scratch. Anything that could ground her to this moment, this body.

“...before,” she manages, peeling the fabric off her. The night’s chill stings her skin. She nearly laughs-- in Lilias, this would a be a balmy night, and now she’s pimpled with goosebumps. “I haven’t forgotten how to undress myself.”

Stay here long enough and you’ll get the hang of it, Obi would be so quick to say. Or maybe, Master should be seeing to it that you do, Miss. But Kiki--

Kiki nods, skirting back to give her space she desperately doesn’t need. It’s strange how she can feel every inch of the gap between them, even though it is only empty air.

“Will you be coming tomorrow?” she asks, striving to keep her tone bright, buoyant. She may not feel like herself, but Shirayuki has made a career out of pushing forward, of persevering, and tonight is no different. “These other gowns are always a bit of a handful by myself.”

Kiki hums; it isn’t in agreement. “The consort will see to it.”

“Haki?” She tries to imagine that, the elegant queen of Clarines looping a hundred pearl buttons down her back.

Kiki’s lips cant into a soft smile, as if she knows just what Shirayuki must be thinking. “She’ll have women sent to you.”

“R-really?” She’s had maids before, lent to her when she traveled to Tanbarun, or sometimes for the night when Izana had deigned her appropriate company at one of Wistal’s balls, but for the queen to assign a pack of them herself, it seemed--

Official. A statement for other nobles to take notice of. Her stomach twists.

“She believes in you,” Kiki says quietly, laying a hand on her shoulder. “We all do.”

Her belly churns with a sickening flop. So did Obi.

Shirayuki shakes herself. It’s all going to be fine. Obi wouldn’t give up on her, and Zen wouldn’t give up on Obi either.

“R-right,” she manages, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “I’ll do my best.”

Is that not what we all want when we are lost? A way to leave the storm behind. A gentle guide to show us the way. An easy answer when none can be found.

It is said that lightning takes the path of least resistance; tree or pole or child-- all of them are the same in its eyes, so long as it meets the ground. And is that not what we are? Lightning in a bottle, a closed current seeking release. We hold a charge within ourselves and let it out when we touch metal. Sometimes even when we touch each other. No wonder we seize the easiest answer when we find it.

But, oh, how foolish we are to take it.

The covers surround her in a protective cocoon, warm and safe. Tonight’s turmoil has wrung her dry; she flops onto her mattress like a child who has run themselves to collapse. Dreams tantalize her from the corners of her vision, and she’s so ready to tip into their embrace, to take what oblivion they will give her with open arms.

There’s no reason to get so upset. 

She jolts from the edge of sleep, fingers clenched. It’s a stray thought, an echo of Zen’s voice; no reason for her heart to race, not when it’s true. Not when everything is taken care of.

It’s not odd for Obi to disappear with no explanation.

A protest strains against her lips, even with no one to rail against. The boy who left Wistal swimming in the fur of his coat isn’t the man who returned. He hasn’t been, not for years now-- maybe not even then. Not since they stood beneath a tree in Tanbarun and she said, I told you we’d see the town next time, right? Not since he’d dragged her along the walls of Lilias and showed her a sunset.

We might as well try to keep a cat indoors.

She rolls, burying her face in the soft cage of her pillow. There’s no point in worrying, not when Zen has everything well in hand, not when there are men out looking for him--

My lady, I don’t know any that have.

Her heart stutters in her chest. Zen had told her-- had promised her that he would send men out, and he wouldn’t-- he couldn’t--

The boy must have been mistaken. Or the consort had the right of it, and Zen had passed over the royal guard, using the knights of the Royal Circle instead. It would make sense; it would take more than a usual guardsman to catch a man of Obi’s skills, if he didn’t mean to be caught.

Whichever direction you’re heading in, he’d said, words misting in the air between them, a promise. I’ll be sure to follow along by your side.

Which can’t be true. Obi couldn’t-- he wouldn’t leave, not without saying goodbye. Not when he had so many promises to keep.

He saw a man leaping over the walls the night Sir Obi went missing. The guilt in Kai’s expression haunts her even now. He was seen leaving with a woman, my lady.

Shirayuki has always prided herself on her cleverness, how she could unravel the most tangled symptoms into a diagnosis. But she holds this puzzle in her hand, and no matter how she tries, she cannot make the pieces fit, cannot make them into a whole.

Obi is a man of his word. He jokes, but he never lies, she told Ryuu once, though she can hardly remember why now. He wouldn’t leave her, not like this. Or Ryuu. Or Zen. But yet, yet--

Did you know he didn’t leave alone?

The sheets tear from her, and oh, the morning is blinding, leaving her cold and blinking on her bed. Her eyes adjust, and there, in the bright glow of the dawn, stands the consort.

“It is time to get up, Shirayuki.” Her mouth curves into a smile. “There is much work to be done.”

There are no oars in this little boat, the girl realizes too late. She has no sooner pushed off from the shore then the current grabs her, hurtling her toward the river’s end. Water sprays up from the rapids, and her little boat rocks perilously under her feet. The easy path this may be, but it is not safe either.

There is a part of her that is frightened, watching as the world moves by her, taking her toward places unknown; but there is another part as well, and it is relieved. She may no longer be in control, but oh, that means she is also no longer to blame.

“So few gowns,” the consort remarks as her women parade Shirayuki’s closet for her review. “And so many of them out of season. They’ll have to be replaced.”

Shirayuki offers a brittle smile in the mirror as one of the maids firmly drags a comb through her hair. “I don’t--” she hisses, teeth tangling in a knot-- “I have as many as I need. Long skirts and fine dresses were bound to get ruined in the pharmacy.”

“But at necessary at court.” Her mouth bows into a faint frown, displeasure weighing on her brow. “You must understand, this is not a simple undertaking. You cannot just...pass a test and become worthy of a crown.”

“That isn’t--”

The consort raises a hand, and her words stutter to a halt. “You have made your position clear, Shirayuki. It is not the title nor the trappings you want, but Zen himself, and I--” she hesitates, gaze distant-- “it is part of why I want to help you. Love is no little thing.”

She smiles, a shy, secret thing, as if they were alone and the room not teeming with her maids. “It is worth all the pain, if you can have love as well. But--” the consort’s gaze fixes on her in the mirror-- “it is not enough. The kings of Clarines once ruled by divine right, and the people-- they have not forgotten.” Her expression shadows when she adds, “they cannot be allowed to forget.”

Shirayuki stares at her hands, flushed. Tanbarun’s royal family had been a joke rather than an inspiration, a vestige of a bygone age that the country had never quite shucked. She’d never held much stock in divine rights, in the idea that someone could be her superior by nothing more than being birthed from the right womb, but--

But being with Zen would mean participating in that fiction, upholding that illusion to keep him safe. “I don’t see what my dresses have to do with that.”

“Everything,” the consort assures her. “You have read fairy stories, haven’t you? Princes cast away because they are dressed as paupers, princesses made by conjuring the right gown-- we think with our eyes first, and then our thoughts. Do you see what I mean?”

Her lip worries beneath her teeth. She’s read those stories, yes, a thousand times, and in each one, it is the clothes than make the man, that set designs on how he is treat but--

The prince is always betrayed by his courtly manors, the princess found by the softness of her skin or made by the contents of her heart.

But those are just stories. Here, in Izana’s court...

Shirayuki bows her head, allowing the maid to slip a pin tight against her skull. “I do.”

“Good. I’ll call for my dressmaker.” The consort slides up beside her, inspecting her maid’s handiwork. “Lovely. Where do you keep your ornaments?”

“Oh.” She nods her her chin toward the wooden box. “Over there.”

The consort lifts the lid with elegant fingers, taking in a breath as if she means to speak--

And stills. Her fingers splay in the air, and she-- she closes the box.

“Well.” Her mouth melts into a warm smile. “That will have to be taken care of as well. Don’t worry, Shirayuki, you’re in good hands now.” Her teeth flash white behind her lips. “Mine.”

Why must these things always happen to children, you wonder. Could this girl not be a woman? Could this boy not be a man? Must it always be that the smallest and most vulnerable that are asked to wander the roads we most fear?

Certainly, they could be. Stories are but lenses through which we see ourselves, made more palatable for the distance. On another page, in another life, they could be a man and a woman on the cusp of something greater, the distance only increasing their longing--

But in a fairy tales there are rules, and the foremost among them is: you must be able to see the magic for it to happen.

When the boat pulls up to the shore, you must not see the beautiful women waiting at its dock, but instead the woman who can conjure. And that, that--

That is the provenance of a child.

Shirayuki is an eternal well of optimism, a veritable font of good will, but when it came to her training--

It’s impossible, she’d told Obi, face buried in her pillow. There’s no way any one person can do all this and look like they’re not trying.

He’d only grinned, idling by her bedside with his usual insolent grin. Glad to see Princess Lessons are going so well.

She’s prepared for more of the same, for the familiar two-steps-forward, ten-steps-back dance she’s been doing for the last few months only now with the added humiliation of the consort beside her but--

It’s different, this time.

“Shirayuki.” Lady Mihoko is entrenched in the divan today, looming with dignity of a temple’s ruin. It’s only the consort’s presence that has excavated her from her favorite chair, but she bears it like an statue missing a limb. “Pour the tea.”

She knows this for what it is: a trap. Mihoko’s maids flank the door to the parlor, ready and entirely willing to pour endless cups of too-sweet tea for everyone seated. This isn’t about thirst, oh no, but that she’s doing entirely too well. Mihoko wants to see her falter and fail as a girl with so common a spine should.

Shirayuki leans forward, mouth thin with concentration, and--

“Keep your shoulders back.” The consort sips delicately at her cup, her words barely rippling its contents. “Don’t round over. Pretend you have a pencil between your shoulder blades.”

Her hand stutters over the salver. A pencil--?

Lady Mihoko watches from her perch; a vulture waiting for a limping animal to fall. Shirayuki has always been at the top of her class, her time at Lilias served with distinction, but yet in this her failure is not only assumed but assured.

Fine. She pushes her shoulders back until the blades kiss, imagining that pencil between them, holding it still as she bends. It’s-- different. Exposing, almost, though she’s wearing no less than she was before, and--

And Lady Mihoko makes no comment as she pours, filling her cup to within a finger’s width of the rim. Nor does she have any disparaging remarks for when she fills the consort’s cup, or her own.

“Sugar?” Shirayuki offers mildly. The corners of her lips twitch, and it takes every last crumb of control she has to keep from smiling. The last thing she needs is for this victory to be tarnished by a vulgar expression.

Mihoko’s lips thin into a forbidding wrinkle, but holds out her cup. “It seems you are much improved,” she allows, begrudgingly, less a compliment and more an accusation.

Shirayuki will take it. “Thank you, Lady Mihoko.”

“Not that you could have sunk much further.” The lady takes a dainty sip before settling the cup onto its saucer. “But I suppose that would make any progress heartening.”

Her smile, carefully constructed to show no improprietous teeth, wavers. “You are...too kind.” The consort sends her a warning glance, and she adds, “My lady.”

“I know I am.” Mihoko glares down her nose, severe. “You should be grateful that Her Majesty has taken you under her wing. The queen of Clarines has much more pressing duties than to educate a--” she casts a disapproving look over her-- “hopeful.”

“Please, Lady Mihoko.” The consort’s mouth rounds into a pleasant curve, the perfect smile. “I am all too happy to fill my hours with such pleasant company as Lady Shirayuki’s. A lady may learn the right fork or the proper dance for an occasion, but one cannot teach a good heart or an interesting mind.”

Her ladyship harrumphs, a quake that shudders through her from slipper to veil, tenders no harsher reply than a sip from her cup. Some degree of royal relation she might be, but even Mihoko won’t quarrel with a queen.

“I’m very grateful!” Shirayuki assures her. “This whole, um, process has been quite challenging and, ah...”

Lonely, she doesn’t say. It nearly tips out all on its own before she even knows it is there, but now it catches in her teeth, sticky and unpleasant.

“It’s an honor,” she finishes, lamely. Mihoko only nods, propriety fulfilled, but the consort--

Haki stares at her, chin tilted, a finger laying thoughtfully along her jaw. She may not be Izana, but her gaze itches like his, as if she were a puzzle that needed solving, or even--

A bug under a glass.

It is not that the girl did not know the danger of sorceresses. Oh no, she had been warned about such women, had read of them in books and shivered at the sound of them in song. But standing as she is, shoes in hand, alone on a river too swift to swim and no oars with which to row--

She makes a choice.

The boat rocks as it comes to shore, so gentle under the sorceress’s guidance, and the little girl makes herself as placid, as docile. That has always been the way she fooled adults before; misbehavior is only assumed from unruly children, but an obedient one--

Well, she has only gotten this far because no one expects the obedient one to run.

It is a good plan, a clever plan, one any young child could be proud of, but--

She does not expect this sorceress.

It had never occurred to her how mortifying it would be to have someone to watch her fail lesson after lesson, to hear as her teachers passed along their lukewarm-- at best-- praise. Shirayuki had always been top of her class, her professors’ best student, and now--

Now she’s grateful Obi had to stand outside while she floundered. One day of the consort’s steady observation and she wants to lay down in her bed and never be seen again.

“You did well.”

Shirayuki turns, eyes wide, as the consort follows her into her room. “What do you mean?”

She blinks, head tilted. “I mean what I said: you did well.”

But I didn’t nearly tips right out, nearly falls straight on the carpet like an ink stain, but she catches it, just in time.

“You’re too kind,” she manages, because somehow implying a lie is more palatable than saying it outright. “I’m not sure my tutors would agree with you.”

The consort waves a hand, as if such worries were little more than smoke. “They are used to ladies. To breeding. When compared to a girl who has been training for this opportunity all her life...yes, you fall quite short. But that is not who you are.”

Haki steps forward, taking one of her hands in hers. “You are the woman who saved Lilias. That some believe a straight spine or a sprightly step could be worth more than that in a princess is--” she takes a breath, agitated-- “antiquated.”

Shirayuki stares, mouth slack, hand limp. “I thought you said--”

“It is important for the people to remember why kings are give the power they possess,” Haki tells her, her eyes so blue, so earnest. “But a good king earns the trust of his people by surrounding himself with the best minds his kingdom can offer. Anyone can learn to hold a fork, Shirayuki, but you--” she smiles-- “you cannot be replaced.“

Something in her chest squirms, but it’s not unpleasant. More like...a squirrel that’s made its next in a tree’s heart, finally waking after a long winter.”

“Oh,” she croaks past the lump in her throat. “Oh.”

In the stories, the sorceresses are old. Or failing that, they are seductresses, dark haired and pale-skinned, every word a twist of the knife.

But this one, oh-- this one is so beautiful and young, her hat so brightly painted with flowers. There is no danger etched on her face or molded in the curves of her body, no sharp teeth or crooked grin. Just a smile, so warm and so gentle.

The little girl is not foolish; she knows exactly how it is when you are not what you seem but--

She does not expect this.

Nor she does not expect to say, “I love roses,” the moment the woman touches her hand.

“You poor child.” When the woman speaks, every word is a song, “How did you come all this way on such a dangerous river? You must be very brave indeed.”

No one had ever called the little girl that before. Pretty, of course, and kind, and often gentle, but brave--

You must tell me who you are, the sorceress says, awe plain in her voice, and how you came here. I must know everything of such a clever little girl.

Her eyes prickle, and before she quite knows what to do, tears stream down her cheek.

Oh, my darling. Arms wrap around her, warm and soft, and oh, how long has it been since she has been held, just like this? So long, so long. No more worries. I have you. I will take care of you.

“Your Majesty, I must insist.” Arundo’s brow blisters with sweat, his dark eyes pleading. “Truly, it is my duty to instruct Mistress Shirayuki. I cannot possible ask you--”

“You are not asking,” the consort reminds him, her mouth hooked into a devious smile. “And I am the one insisting. I think a change of partners will do her ladyship a world of good.”

The dancing master pales. Shirayuki can’t blame him; if Izana was to find out she mangled his wife’s feet as she did Arundo’s...

“I’m not sure she’s ready for such a, ah...change.” He wrings his hands, mopping at his brow. “Surely a few more weeks, and perhaps--”

“I have been watching these lessons for quite some time, Master Arundo, would you not agree?” The man has no recourse but to nod, not with the way the consort pins him with her gaze, hedging him against the wall with her imposing posture. “I have noticed a few areas in which her understanding of the dance might be improved.”

All of them, probably. Despite years of tutors, Shirayuki has never quite grasped the finer areas of dance. Not that there hadn’t been some successes-- she never seemed to embarrass herself in Tanbarun when Raj insisted on a waltz, and Obi always managed to make her look capable, if not competent, but outside that--

Well, Her Majesty shouldn’t be wearing slippers facing off against her feet.

Arundo deflates in the face of her determination. “Ah, well...if you’re certain...Your Majesty...”

“I am.” The consort turns to her, skirts skimming the floor. Ah, it had been hard enough avoiding Arundo’s feet when she could see them; this hemline can only complicate matters. “Come, I’ll lead you through it. A waltz might seem hard to start, but there’s very little to remember.”

Shirayuki doesn’t have the heart to tell her that’s what they’d been trying to do before Arundo had decided that learning polka might behoove her more, if only because it put space between her partner and her feet. “Ah...if you think so.”

“I know so.” Haki tilts her a small, secretive smile. “Give me your hand.”

With one last helpless glance at Arundo, she does. The consort’s palm is cool against hers, like marble warming under her touch, and she slides into the circle of her arms with only a little finagling.

“I should be about the right height.” Her face is so close-- nearly too close, the her eyes so pale and so clear, so unlike the deep Wisteria blue. “Give or take an inch or two.”

That is all the warning she has; the accompanist starts a thoughtful piece, slow yet bright, and the consort sweeps her across the floor. She stumbles on the first step, but the music’s pace makes it easy to recover, to remember the simple rhythm of up, up, down; up-up-down--

She steps out into her turn, arm lifted, and--

Just barely misses Her Majesty’s slippered foot, slid to safety just in time.

Haki laughs, and it’s so different when it is not a disappointed tutor that looks back, but Her Majesty’s smiling face. As if she were not in a practice room, but a bed chamber, practicing on a lark instead of disastrously careening toward a deadline.

“Well then,” Haki breathes, holding her stomach as if it might cease her giggles. “Now we know what we need to work on.”

The girl is but a child, well-loved and then sent into the world alone, shell of determination over a soft body of longing. For how long has she been reaching out her hands only to come back empty? For how long has she been calling for help, only to go unheard?

And now a hand catches hers with warm smiles above it, with arms so ready to hold the burden she’s been carrying for far, far too long...

The little girl enters a garden, and oh, who are we to judge when she grasps with both hands.

“Well done, once again.” Haki slumps onto the divan beside her, flushed, eyes bright. “I think you’ve nearly gotten that waltz.”

Shirayuki delicately closes her jaw. “I’m...I don’t really think that’s true. I nearly stepped on you at least two dozen times.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Only because you’re much quicker than Arundo is,” she laughs. “Which is good, otherwise Izana would have--” she coughs, flustering under the consort’s bemused smile-- “I mean, His Majesty would have been quite upset if I’d broken your foot.”

Her Majesty hums, gaze measuring. “I see he was right.”

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You’re really not afraid of him.” Haki’s sweet smile sharpens into a grin. “Izana.”

“Hguk.” If only she knew how to answer questions like these-- or at least, how to answer them when someone with a His or Her poses them, looking for an answer that is not respect is earned, not given.

“I’m from Tanbarun,” Shirayuki settles on, since that seems...safe.

“Yes,” Haki hums, all too knowing. “I could see how a royal title might not impress you.” 

She has the sudden, perverse urge to object. Raj might have once been a black mark on Tanbarun’s reputation, the prince no princess would deign to entertain as a prospect, but now-- now he was a prince the people could be proud of. That she could be proud of. Even if he was a little ridiculous.

But she doubts that consort would understand such a change. So she drowns the impulse in the tea a maid hands her.

Haki sips at her own with effortless elegance, measuring her with a glance. “I suppose that is part of your charm. That you don’t believe in this,” she explains, “the superiority of good breeding.”

Tea burns when she breathes it instead of swallowing, and well, a coughing fit is one way to get out of having to answer...any of that.

Haki pats her back, harder than Shirayuki would expect from a woman raised to be a king’s demure shadow. “There, there.” The words ripple with the undercurrent of a giggle. “Let us talk of something else instead. Perhaps the reason your mind wanders?”

The garden and its marvels lead to a cottage, its walls of wattle and its roof of thatch. The most delicious smells waft through the window-- fresh baked bread, hot fruit tart--

Come inside, the sorceress says, I have sweet berries, fresh picked, and cool cream with which to have it.

The little girl hesitates, red shoe hovering over the threshold. It was one thing to stand upon the dock with her, to be held and hold in return, to walk among her flowers and marvel at the sight, but it’s quite another to enter her home, the center of her power. Unless she wants to be sweet child stew--

You must tell me how you came to be here. The sorceress smiles, so warm. I will help you, if I am able.

The little girl steps inside.

The consort smiles in her silence, sweeping up across the room. “You have such pretty hair pieces,” she remarks brightly, “I must applaud your taste.”

“Oh I...I didn’t pick them,” she admits. “I don’t really have an eye for that sort of thing.”

A perfectly shaped eyebrow lifts. “You don’t mean to say my good brother did. I never thought him the type.”

“Oh! No, it wasn’t him,” she laughs. “Obi...”

I’m looking for a boy, the little girl says, for despite all her cleverness, there are some tricks a child cannot see. He has dark hair. He is this tall. He gave me these shoes.

My oh my, the sorceress says, leading her to a chair. There are no other children in this house, but even still it is the right size, just large enough so that her toes brush at the floor when she kicks them. You describe him so well. He seems like he must be a very good boy.

He is, for he is, even if he’s strayed from her. But he is lost.

This is for you. The pin balances awkwardly behind her ear, hair entirely too short for something like it. He smiles at her, something lopsided and sharp. She hardly knows him then, only thinking that she must look ridiculous. Still, his eyes are the clearest she’s ever seen as he says, Part of my prize.

Is that so? the sorceress hums. Do you mind very much if I were to brush your hair? It is so disheveled from your travels, I would hate for it to get too tangled.

The girl hesitates, her hands in her lap. The berries and cream look very good indeed, and when the sorceress brings out her brush, it is mother of pearl, so pretty and so fine. She knows what they say about strange food, she knows what they say can be done with only a few strands of hair, but-- she is a small girl, so weary, so unused to kindness, and--

She nods.

Since there’s no martial arts match to win, he teases, so many years later, I thought we’d go choose another one for you.

It sits heavy in her hands as she stand in the hall, waiting.

Thank you, she says, meeting eyes that are still so clear all these years later, thank you so much for this

Have you seen him? she asks, watching the woman warily as she approaches. The little girl has heard of what conjurers might do, but she is a strong girl, a brave girl, a clever one. She would not be fooled by illusion. My boy?

Your boy? The sorceress sweeps close, the scent of flowers wafting on the air. I have not.

The brush is so soft in her hair, so lulling. She can feel her eyes drift to half mast. It has been so long since she rested.

But I’m sure he’ll come through. The sorceress’s mouth rounds into a dangerous curve. Everyone does, eventually.

You’re drunk, she decides, watching the way he sways on the balls of his feet, swaying like a sailor at sea. Still, he’s coiled tight, braced for an attack. Even soused, he’s vigilant Obi, I know that--

You don’t know anything about me, Miss.

His eyes have never been cloudier.

You have roses, the little girl slurs, so many of them, and so beautiful.

You like them? It’s hard to keep her eyes open now, her head nodding at the table.

They are my favorite, she says, my boy and I...we raised roses together.

The brush pauses, mid-stroke. You don’t say?

“It’s too bad you have so few.” The consort reaches out a hand, her fingers catching in her hair. The touch is so unexpected, Shirayuki forgets to flinch. “Your hair is so lovely.”

“Thank you,” she manages, which is better than saying, I hear that a lot.

It’s no use; Haki’s mouth lifts wryly, and even though she hasn’t said a word, Shirayuki knows she’s heard every one. “You’ll have to let me lend you one of mine.”

“Wha?” She blinks, staring as the consort rounds the divan, clasp in hand. “I couldn’t--”

“Put it in yourself? I know. Please,” the consort comes to sit beside her, pales eyes shining eagerly, “allow me to pin it for you.”

“I...” Shirayuki snaps her lips over her protest; Haki may only be the consort, but still, saying no to a queen was what Obi would call career limiting. “You’re too kind.”

Her hands are gentle as she removes the pins lying tight against Shirayuki’s scalp. “Oh no, not at all. It’s the least I could do for my sister.”

She says it so casually, as if this were all settled, as if Shirayuki’s success was already assured and not balanced on the head of a pin, and--

And for once, Shirayuki believes it.

You should stay, the sorceress says, and the little girl hardly hears it, her chin cradled on her arms.

I can’t, I can’t, she yawns, looking out on the world through the net of her lashes. I have to find my boy.

He’ll come, in time, the woman assures her. As I said, everyone does. Why not wait here?

With what she’d seen of Rona’s skills the last time she’d visited Tanbarun, Shirayuki expected to be left with a rat’s nest that would take three maids to untangle. But the consort’s hands are practiced, neatly twisting and lifting as she pins.

“Have you’ve done this before?” She grimaces; there was probably much more polite way to put that, one that didn’t call a queen’s qualifications into question. “I mean...there aren’t many ladies of the court that know how to, um, do this.”

“Take care of themselves? Yes,” she hums, too amused, “I know. I was one of the dowager’s handmaidens when she was queen. We didn’t need to do much, but, well...a girl like to distinguish herself, doesn’t she?”

“O-oh.” She bites her lip, thoughtful. “So...before you were the Mistress of Lilias? Is that how you met Izana?”

Her hands still, just for a moment, before twisting another piece. “No. We have known each other...far longer than that. Our fathers were...”

“Friends?” Shirayuki supplies, when Haki does not.

“No, better-- allies. I was practically raised with the Wisterias.”  She laughs. “No wonder I was always desperate for a sister. Good thing at least one of my brothers has decided to oblige me.”

The comb’s teeth skim against her scalp, and Shirayuki grimaces. “With someone no one expected.”

The consort drops down beside her, companionably close, closing a hand around hers. “Perhaps you did not realize, Shirayuki, how serious I was. I am as selfish as any of these men, though what I want from you is not feminine perfection.” She grins, and it’s not like Izana’s, a prelude to a challenge, but an invitation to mischief. “Don’t forget that before I was the queen of Clarines, I was the mistress of Lilias. If the woman who saved the North is an unorthodox choice to the relics of this court...then it is just the one I want. Do you understand?”

Stay, my precious girl, the sorceress whispered, I have long been waiting for a dear little maiden like you.

“I do.”

It is dark when one woman says to another, “There is a box in her room, on the dresser. Do you know it?”

The second bows her head. “I do.”

“Good.” The first worries a lip, hesitant. “See that it disappears.”

“I...” The second straightens, nods. “I will.”

A little girl sleep and a sorceress stands in her garden.

You must stay with me, she says as the roses seep beneath the ground, and see how happily we shall live together.

Everyone Deserves Love chapter 6

A/N: The sexual tension rises! This chapter is a lot of housekeeping and waiting for things to happen, much like how the characters are waiting for shit to hit the fan. Fun fact, for fight scenes in this story, I reenacted them with my mom to make sure they were realistic. Also, the thought of Barba flustered and face first in a wall is highly funny to me.

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Tags: briefest of child abuse mention (not explicit), normal SVU stuff, Devon gets a little intense during an interrogation scene, but not too bad

Words: 5k+

Office of Rafael Barba

1 Hogan Place

Monday, April 6th. 1:05pm

  “Whatcha working on?” Devon asked as she shoved the last bit of her sandwich into her mouth. It had been two weeks since the last attack on Barba, and today was the day that they were finally going to go get Devon’s stitches taken out. Thank god, these things itch so bad, she thought, fighting the urge to scratch at her shoulder. She was currently in one of Barba’s chairs, legs draped over one of the arms, back against the other.

Barba glanced up, smirking at her easy-going posture. “Just finishing up this closing statement for tomorrow, then we can leave.” His eyes drifted back to the legal pad in front of him, pen tapping on the desk lightly as he thought.

“Barbs, you’ve been working on that statement for the past hour. If it’s not done yet, then what makes you think it’s gonna be done any time soon?”

He huffed out a laugh. “For someone with unlimited patience in terms of staking out a perp, you have zero patience for paperwork. Now hush and let me finish this.”

Devon rolled her eyes and continued counting the wooden boards in the ceiling. Barba gave her another glance, before shaking his head and continuing on his statement. After spending the better part of three months with the agent, Devon had certainly proved herself to him in terms of her being able to protect him. He felt at ease around her, not nervous or anxious at all, even with a deadly gang still out there. And even though she seemed relaxed, especially now, lounging in the chair, he knew that she was still on high alert, listening for footsteps outside his office. He still had no idea how she heard people approach from so far away, but she always knew when someone was about to enter well in advance. And no matter how she was sitting in a chair, or on his couch, she was always up and by his side before anyone came in, ready to defend. It was weird the first couple weeks, and the people who visited—usually other attorneys or colleagues—always gave her, and Barba, a weird look, and a wide berth.

The first day someone had come in, Devon had her hand on her glock, resting it easily, but not drawing it. The poor paralegal who was just delivering a message almost passed out at the sight of it.

“We need a code word…for when someone comes in that you don’t know,” Devon had mentioned after the white-faced messenger left.

Barba raised his eyebrows. “You know, I’m not going to know everyone who comes into my office. I didn’t even know that guy. Maybe you should just not grab you gun?”

Devon shot him a glare at that. “And leave you unprotected? No thanks. Like Han Solo, I plan on shooting first.”

 “I—did you really just make a Star Wars reference? Really?” Devon smirked at him. “No, you don’t need to shoot anyone in here.”

And that was that. They never made a code word, but Devon did stop reaching for her gun when people came into his office. Though, she did still stand by his desk and glared at everyone who entered, daring them to try anything.

“You know, you haven’t written anything in ten minutes,” Devon said, snapping Barba back to the present. He looked at his legal pad, at the words, the scribbles, the scratched-out phrases. Suddenly, inspiration hit; he knew exactly how to finish his closing statement. He furiously started writing, cursing his hand for not being able to keep up with his thoughts. After a few moments of scribbling down some last-minute thoughts, Barba put down his pen.

 “Done. Let’s get you to the hospital,” he announced; he could read over it again later that night, at home. He stood, gathering his things. Devon got out of the chair, stretching with her full body—right arm being able to lift high above her head. She scrunched up her face as she stretched, making a weird, groaning noise, then releasing the tension in her limbs.

“Feeling better?” Barba asked, amused.

 “Much,” Devon replied, smiling. Sleeping on a too-small couch for the past ten weeks hasn’t been the best for her back, but like hell would she admit that to him, especially after their last fight about it. He still tried to force her to sleep in his bed—with him taking the couch, of course—at least once a week, to which she denied him every time. She definitely appreciated the thought, but she was there to protect him, to make him comfortable, not the other way around.

Mercy Hospital

Monday, April 6th. 2:37pm

It was something else to have left the office while the sun was still high in the air; Barba had taken a half day just to make this hospital trip with Devon. It shocked her just how much it meant to her that he took time off to go with her, even though she had offered to have Detective Amaro or Fin cover at his office while she got the stitches out.

 “I need the time off, if I’m being honest,” Barba had said. “I’ve been working too much recently.”

Devon rubbed her arm nervously. “Are you sure? I still feel bad that you’re using vacation time for this.”

Barba waved her off. “Don’t feel bad; I got over a month in vacation days saved. Besides, we’ve been having too much takeout. Why don’t we do some grocery shopping after the hospital? I’ll make one of my mom’s special recipes.”

 “Wait; you cook? And we’ve been eating shitty takeout for months?”

Barba laughed. “Yes, I cook. I just haven’t been allowed to go to the grocery store,” he gave Devon a playful glare. “Besides, I haven’t had the time.” It was true; it was rare that they made it back to his loft before 9pm.

She thought about it, weighed the options of going to the store, about how likely it was that he’d be attacked there. “Fine, but let’s stock up so we don’t have to go back for a while. Plus, I’m going to introduce you to this magical thing called Instacart….”

When the nurse came to get Devon, Barba looked like he was going to stay out in the lobby. Devon only needed to give him a stern look to have him following them back to the room.

 “Family only,” the nurse was starting to say.

 “He’s my, uh, boyfriend,” Devon blurted out. Besides the red creeping up her neck, she kept a straight face. Barba, however, raised an eyebrow, face flushed.  He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and closed his mouth again.

The nurse gave them both a look. “Alright…,” she replied, motioning for Devon to sit on the raised medical table. Barba sat in the chair in the corner, trying to melt into the wall. After the nurse checked Devon’s blood pressure, throat, and ears, she informed them that the doctor would be there in a moment, and to take off her shirt and change into the hospital gown.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Barba asked as soon as the door was closed, not quite making eye contact. “Amaro and Rollins are going to have a field day if they hear about this.”

 “Look, it was easier than explaining the whole ADA-being-threatened-by-a-gang-thing, okay?” Devon said, taking her shirt off. Barba groaned and turned to face the wall.

 “I feel like I’m in a bad romcom,” he mumbled, voice slightly muffled by the wall.

Devon’s face grew warmer, but she smiled at the sight of Rafael Barba, master attorney, face first in the corner of the room. He was too damn cute when he was flustered. Devon smacked the thought away. “At least you didn’t blow your cover.”

 “After this, we never speak of this again.”

Once in the gown, Devon sat back on the table. Barba eventually turned back around to face the room, face not quite as bright, and they waited for the doctor in awkward silence.

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Monday April 6th. 4:30pm

 The grocery store was largely uneventful. Devon was on high alert the whole time, as per usual, while Barba seemed undisturbed, walking up and down the aisles, grabbing supplies.

“How have you not had a heart attack with how tense you are?” he jokingly asked.

Devon rolled her eyes. “It’s a skill, I guess.” Though, she seemed to relax after that, if only just a little bit.

Once back in Barba’s loft, he changed out of his court suit and into slacks and a simple t-shirt, and started getting to work prepping dinner. Devon grinned; she secretly loved when he wore casual clothes. Even on his days off, when they stayed in the apartment watching TV or catching up on work, he normally wore a polo shirt, or a less fancy dress shirt.

“I hope you don’t mind eating a little late tonight,” he called from the kitchen as he cubed the steak.

“Like we don’t every night?” Devon called back, grinning.

Barba huffed at that. “Fair enough.” After a few moments of them both working in silence, Devon picked up her laptop and moved into the kitchen. It was a decent sized kitchen, big enough that he could work on the counter, chopping and marinating ingredients while she hopped up on the opposite counter, typing away on her laptop, a small island in between them. Every now and again, she’d glance up at Barba working, appreciating how deftly his hands moved from meat to garlic to limes. He had rice already steaming and black beans cooking at a low temperature.

“Did your mother teach you to cook a lot of meals?” Devon finally asked, reports long forgotten.

“A few. My abuelita taught me more, but my father didn’t like the idea of a man stuck inside cooking all day,” Barba replied bitterly.

Devon was going to drop it, to leave the conversation there. She wasn’t quite sure why she opened her mouth, but she found herself saying, “neither parent taught me to cook. But, if dinner wasn’t done before father got home, then there would be hell to pay. Sometimes, mother would be too drunk; she’d be passed out before he got home, so I taught myself to cook basic meals…just something quick and easy, before father got home.”

The silence that followed this statement was deafening. Devon’s face flushed as she realized what she had told him, what she had let loose; she didn’t let people know about that time in her life. She was still reeling from the fact that she even spoke when Barba answered in the softest voice.

“Seems like we both had shitty fathers.”

Such a simple statement, yet Devon felt closer to the counselor. They did let the conversation die there, though, neither one wanting to delve deeper into their traumatic pasts; that would be a conversation for another day. Devon swore she could still feel Barba’s touch, the ghost of his fingertip as he trailed it along the scar on her back all those weeks ago, and she shuddered. Maybe they would continue the conversation.

“So, what’s the name of this dish?” Devon asked, pushing all of that out of her mind. She lightly jumped down from the counter, moving to stand next to Barba. She watched as he moved the marinated meat into the pan with a loud sizzle.

“Bistec de palomilla. It’s simple, but delicious. It won’t be nearly as good as mí Mamí makes, but hopefully it’ll still be good.”

Devon smiled; it was endearing that he called his mom “Mamí.” She had the sudden urge to wrap her arms around his shoulders, to lean her head against his. Fighting this urge, she went back to her forgotten laptop, pretending to type on it. “I’m sure it’ll be great. It already smells amazing.”

“Garlic cooking always smells amazing,” he commented matter-of-factly. She nodded, then snatched her laptop and moved back to the living room. She wasn’t sure what was happening to her. I’ve never had someone cook dinner for me before. That must be it, she thought. It had to be. Why else was she feeling so touched, so excited by a simple dinner?

Dinner, as predicted, was amazing. Devon had to restrain herself from shoveling the food into her mouth faster than she could taste it.

“If this isn’t as good as your mom’s, then I’m going to have to try her version,” Devon said in between bites.

Barba gave her an amused smile. “Usually, we marinate the meat much longer, but I didn’t have the time. One day, I’ll have to make you ropa vieja…maybe on a weekend when I have time to slow roast the meat.”

“I will eat anything you make,” she promised, causing him to chuckle warmly. They talked about food for a little, including Barba raving about his abuelita’s tamales, before they fell silent once more.

Barba cleared his throat awkwardly. “Did you, uh, want to talk about your parents? Because I’m all ears if you did.”

Devon choked on a piece of rice, sputtering. “N-not really,” she coughed out. Once she composed herself, she asked, “why, did you want to talk about your father? Cause I promise I won’t judge you.”

He should’ve known she’d turn it back on him; she always did when he asked about her parents. He should’ve just taken the little bit of information he got earlier, been happy with that. She’d talk about it when she wanted to…if she wanted to.

“Look, I’m not going to push it. I just want you to know that I’m here if you wanted to talk,” he replied gently. Barba’s phone chimed, mercifully saving Devon from responding. A moment later, her phone went off, too.

“Seems Liv wants us to stop by tomorrow,” Devon reported, reading over the text.

“Seems like it,” he agreed. The tension didn’t go away, so Devon stood, grabbing her plate and taking his empty one, heading to the kitchen. She made it to the sink, turning on the water, and started washing the dishes.

“You don’t have—” Barba started, following her to the kitchen, before Devon cut him off.

“You cooked. I’ll clean,” she said simply. He just stood in the doorway, watching her until her hands began to shake in a panic that she hadn’t felt in decades. It’s just Barbs, not father, she thought, but it didn’t stop her heart from beating faster. Finally, he left the kitchen, heading back to the living room and pulling some files out of his case. Once the dishes were done, Devon joined him, taking her usual spot in the armchair, laptop out, and typing away.

SVU Department

Tuesday, April 7th. 10:08am

This had been the most relaxed Devon had felt since taking on the job of protecting Barba. Which wasn’t saying much; she’d seen people sneak guns into the precinct before, perps and suspects alike lashing out and hurting those around them. But it was nice having a room full of detectives around. So, when Olivia asked to speak to Devon in her office, alone, Devon had no qualms with leaving the ADA with the squad; they were going over some case, anyways.

“So, how’s the 24/7 going?” Olivia asked as Devon closed the door behind her.

Devon took the seat across from the Sergeant. “Ah, it’s been going well. No attacks since the Olivera brothers, though that’s just making me more anxious than anything.”

Liv nodded in agreement. “You’re worried that they’re planning something?”

“Why else take this long? Have you heard anything?”

Olivia let out a breath, leaning back in her chair. “No, I haven’t. I don’t know how such a low-ranking bunch of kids are keeping their mouths shut. No one’s talking.”

Devon thought for a moment. “Want to let me have a go at one of them? Whoever you think might be a weak link. I’ll just need someone to watch Barba for a bit while I interrogate them.”

Olivia gave Devon a long look, trying to judge what her real intentions were. “I trust that you know we do not harm the people we’re interrogating?”

Devon gave her a grin. “I know that, and you know that, but they don’t need to know that, right?” That seemed like the correct answer, because Olivia nodded, standing. Devon stood up with her, followed her out of her office. Liv glanced over at the squad; they were in the bullpen, discussing the rape case that Barba was initially called in for today. Seemingly satisfied that they would be there for a while longer, Liv led Devon to interrogation 1, both of them missing the fact that Barba turned at the last moment to see them entering the room, his brow furrowing.

“I didn’t know you had one here now,” Devon said, silently wishing she had her knife; the EMT never got back to her on it, and the small dagger she was using as a replacement was quicker, yes, but paltry in comparison.

“Tony Garcia--we only have him until tomorrow morning. Then he goes to Rikers. If you’re going to get anything, it’s going to be now.” Olivia leveled a heady stare at the agent. “Look, I’m going to let you take point on this. But don’t go too overboard, okay?”

Devon nodded, mentally aligning herself with the mean, scary, intimidating Federal agent that she had to be. She’s only done this a handful of times, and every time, it left a bad taste in her mouth; she saw the look that the observers gave her afterwards, the fear that they tried to mask. But they needed answers, and they needed them now.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Liv said. Devon took a deep breath, rolled her neck, then burst through the door, slamming it against the wall. It hit so hard that it ricocheted off the wall, closing harshly behind her. The man in the chair had been slouching before she came in, but now he was sitting ramrod straight, eyes huge.

“Why, hello there, Garciiiiii-ya!” Devon said in the most obnoxious, over-the-top voice she could muster. “I’ve heard that you’ve been a bit of a bad little boy, huh? Not telling the good detectives here anything.”

“What the hell is this?” Garcia asked, looking at the one-way mirror in horror. Good, so the façade was unsettling him. But would that be enough to make him talk? Devon wanted to push him harder.

“No one’s there ta help ya, buddy boy. It’s just you,”—Devon took her knife out and pointed to him—“and me.” She slammed the knife down hard enough that it stuck up straight out of the table, blade sinking into the soft metal a couple of centimeters, the handle far enough out of reach that Garcia, with his hands cuffed to the table, couldn’t grab it. Devon moved to stand right next to the man, uncomfortably close, putting her head right next to his ear, so close that he could feel her breath on him. “Now, are you gonna answer my questions, or am I gonna start taking bits of you?”

Garcia lurched away as if she struck him, trying to put as much space between them as possible.

In the observation room, Olivia watched, listening intently. It was working. As much as Olivia hated watching Devon play this role, it was actually working. Garcia was going to break, he had to—

“What the hell is going on in there?” A voice asked. Liv turned to see Barba sticking his head in. Once he saw the scene unfolding, he came to stand next to the Sergeant, intrigue and a creeping horror rooting him to the spot, like watching a car crash.

“Y-you can’t do that!” Garcia yelled, once again looking towards the mirror. “Please! Someone! Get her away from me!”

Devon chuckled darkly, pulling her knife out of the table and sitting on top of cool metal, using the tip of the dagger to pick under her nails. “I already told you, no one’s there, Tone. It’s just us. So, here’s how this is gonna go; either you start telling me about the Ace’s hit on ADA Rafael Barba, or I’m going to take your pinky. Then your ring finger. And so on and so forth, you get the picture. Now, which hand is your dominant hand?” When Garcia didn’t answer, she reached for his left hand—the hand closest to her.

“Wait! I’ll tell you everything I know! But I’m only a scout; I don’t know much,” Garcia pleaded.

“You have to the count of three,” Devon replied. She stood, gripping his wrist in an iron grip. She was pushing his hand against the table, attempting to get his fingers to lay flat. Garcia was struggling against her, but with his cuffed hands and seated position, he quickly lost. With his fingers splayed on the table, Devon held the dagger poised above his pinky. “One…two—”

“We’ve been waiting!” Garcia yelled, causing Devon to pause. She didn’t release him, continuing to hold the razor-sharp edge an inch from the man’s digit.

“For?”

“Marco to get back into town. He’s the best of the Aces,” he gasped out. Devon thought for a moment, contemplating if she should try and get more out of him now, if he’d shut his mouth later. She had no idea who this Marco was—never saw anything on him in the database.

“When does he get back?”

“I don’t know! I told you, I’m just a scout, I swear!”

“Wrong answer, Tone,” Devon said, repositioning the dagger above him. Instead of more information, though, Garcia just started yelling, begging and pleading for Devon to have mercy on him, that he knew nothing. Just then, the door burst open, Olivia coming in.

“That’s enough, Motely,” she ordered.

Devon let out a disappointed sigh. “You’re no fun, Sarge.” As she was leaving, she turned and winked at Garcia. “Just remember, I work with the FBI. I can find you anywhere.” She gave a little wave and a bright smile, and she thought Garcia was going to faint. Once in the observation room, Devon let her shoulders drop, resheathing her dagger and trying to shake off that persona.

“That was…highly disturbing,” Barba muttered, making Devon jump; she didn’t even notice he was there. Devon was suddenly embarrassed. How much did he see? By the look in his eyes, he had seen enough.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point,” she replied defensively. “Besides, at least I got a name out of it.”

“Which is better than nothing, but barely,” Olivia announced, coming out of the interrogation room. “Good job in there, Devon. You made the man piss himself.”

She hated the accusatory tone that Liv used; was she really that intimidating? She couldn’t bring herself to look at the counselor, but she felt his gaze on her, examining her. She didn’t think she was that bad. But then, replaying the scene in her mind, maybe she was that bad. Ugh, she needed a shower.

Barba couldn’t look away from the agent, someone who he had thought he had all figured out. You don’t know her as well as you think you do, he thought disparagingly. “Do we know who this Marco is?” He asked, finally pulling his eyes to look at Liv.

“No, but we can find out,” Olivia replied. “I’ll have Rollins look into it, shoot you an update when we have one.”

Barba nodded, then looked at his watch. “Fine. We need to be heading to the courthouse; I have a trial in twenty minutes.” Still avoiding eye contact, Devon led Barba outside to wave down a cab.

They spent the first few minutes in an uncomfortable silence. Devon looked out the window, willing the taxi to go faster, so that Barba would be sucked into court, and she could just sit in the gallery with her shame.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Barba finally asked, breaking the silence. His voice was low, like he didn’t want the driver to hear him. Like he, too, was embarrassed and ashamed of Devon’s display.

She sighed through her nose, closing her eyes. “Just something I picked up while working.” Hoping he’d drop it, she continued staring out the window. She felt him shift on the seat next to her, but he didn’t ask any more questions.

Courthouse

Tuesday, April 7th. 12:15pm

They made it to the courtroom with five minutes to spare. Barba took his normal spot by the prosecutor’s table, Devon sitting right behind him in the gallery. She was so absorbed in her thoughts, she didn’t pay attention to the trial at all, completely zoning out until the Judge banged her gavel, calling it quits for the day. Devon looked at her phone, shocked to find that it was nearing 5pm. How’d she miss over 4 hours of the day? Focus…she thought to herself, mentally shaking the fog out of her mind. She stood as Barba packed his things, putting the papers neatly away into his attaché.

“Your office next?” she asked; a normal question after a trial. She usually had his schedule memorized, but it changed often, and the visit to SVU had thrown a wrench into the day.

He snapped his case closed, taking the handle and looking up. “Yes. I only have a couple things to work on, then we should be done for the day.”

“Good. That gives me some time to look into Marco,” Devon replied. It’s not that she didn’t trust Rollins and the NYPD’s resources, but she knew that her resources were better. Barba nodded, the same look from the observation room flashing through his eyes for just the briefest moment as he looked at her, then it was gone. Devon swallowed past the lump in her throat, turning to lead him out of the courtroom. After working together so long, she knew the building as well as he did, maybe even better. She had a way of noticing hallways and doors that most people didn’t. She kept at a brisk pace, one that Barba almost had to jog to keep up with.

Office of Rafael Barba

1 Hogan Place

Tuesday, April 7th. 5:15pm

Devon was typing furiously on her laptop, scanning the FBI’s database for any Marco in New York City affiliated with a gang. At first, she simply looked within the Aces, but that search turned out to be futile. It didn’t help that Olivia had texted her as much; Rollins had hit a dead end, and they had no other possible leads on the name. Tony Garcia had refused to answer questions, or to talk at all, anymore. It seemed like he was scared into some sort of stupor, his eyes unfocused and his mouth not forming any words. So, that left Devon to find out what she could on the one lead they did have. And she would find something. She had to. For Barba’s sake.

Ping! A page uploaded. This looks promising…Devon thought, clicking through some files. She found a name, one that had appeared a couple of times in a few homicide cases; Marco Sorrel.

She waited for his page to load, then called, “hey Barbs, come look at this.” She was seated on the couch, Barba at his desk, as per usual. He looked up at her voice, then stood and came over. This was the first time she had spoken since getting back to his office, and he was somewhat relieved to hear her voice. He sat on the couch next to her, huddling close to look at the screen.

There was a picture of the man on the left side of the screen, his profile on the right. The picture showed a Hispanic man in his early 30s with short, black hair. He looked like any face in the crowd, no particular identifying marks outside of mean-looking eyes, and one other thing; he had a tattoo on the right side of his neck: two poker cards, an Ace of Spades and an Ace of Hearts.

“Those tattoos seem a little cliché for someone in a gang called the Aces,” Barba pointed out.

“I’d hate to agree with you, but I do. Tattoos mean nothing, really; just a way to tell him apart from the crowd. Look at this though.” Devon pointed to the other side of the screen, the one with his criminal profile written out.

“Says here that he’s been connected to at least six counts of aggravated assault, and three homicides,” Devon continued. “He’s never been caught; every time he gets cornered by cops, it seems, he shoots his way out of it. Hmmm…no family, no aliases, the guy seems to be unattached.” They sat in silence, letting the weight of Devon’s words sink in.

“That…doesn’t bode well for me,” Barba finally said. He meant it as a joke, but his voice fell flat. “I’m almost glad that whatever persona you had in the interrogation room is at least some part of you.” He wanted to take the words back as soon as he said them. He saw the look on her face, how her eyes seemed to dull slightly.

“You’re right; it’s good that I can scare someone so bad, they urinate. I’ll be sure to remember that when Marco comes after you.”

“Dev, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant…”

“What did you mean, then? What could you possibly have meant?” Devon asked, voice deadly quiet. She stood, closing her laptop and walking to the other side of the office. Barba cursed himself; he saw how she had collapsed in on herself after the interrogation. How could he have made such a stupid comment?

Barba pulled himself to his feet, took a step towards her, then stopped, running through his words. “I’m sorry that I said that; it was a stupid mistake. Devon, you don’t need a persona to take on Marco. Did you forget how you’ve already saved my life? Twice? Hell, you got stabbed protecting me! I can never thank you enough for what you’ve done for me, what you’ve sacrificed for me. And even before today, some thug like Marco Sorrel wouldn’t scare me, because I know I have you watching my back.”

They stood in silence for a moment, Devon drinking in his words. This was the first time he ever thanked her for her service, ever acknowledged the fact that his life was in danger. She felt familiar butterflies in her stomach, and tears briefly tinged in her eyes. She blinked them away rapidly, not even completely sure why they were there.

Just when Barba was sure Devon wouldn’t respond, she spoke, softly at first. “Look, Barbs…I know this hasn’t been easy on you, as much as you like to act like nothing’s changed. You always seem so calm, collected, and hell, maybe you are. I’ve only known you for a couple months, and only while you’ve had a target on you. And I know that I’m not the easier person to be around,” she shrugged, smiling slightly. “But in this time together, you went from a victim in my mind to a friend. I do actually care about you, about your wellbeing. Unfortunately for you, I’m a ride-or-die friend as it is. So, while I appreciate your words, trust me when I say I’m not ‘sacrificing’ anything by being here for you. I’d be here anyways.”

He had never felt safer in his life, standing in his dimly lit office, staring at this stranger—no, this friend—who had come into his life like a whirlwind. So, this is what it’s like to have someone you can trust with your life, Barba thought. He was suddenly very jealous of Olivia; she had a whole team of people like this? Maybe there was something to this whole “friends” thing that Barba had been missing out on, something he didn’t realize he wanted, needed.

“Thank you,” Barba said sincerely. There was nothing else he could think to say; nothing that could convey his thoughts any better. He gave her a smile, one she returned before taking the few steps to him and enveloping him in a hug. It caught him off-guard—Barba wasn’t much of a hugger—but he returned it, rubbing a small circle into her muscular back. He tucked his face into her hair, breathed in her scent; she felt so strong, so reassuring in his arms. He could have spent a lifetime standing there, holding onto her forever. But just as quickly as it started, Devon was moving away, arms releasing him as she pulled back.

“Sorry, I should have asked before hugging you like that,” she said, cheeks flushed.

“No, no, it’s fine. Really. I don’t mind.” Their eyes made contact, locking them into place. Devon wasn’t sure what she saw there, but she couldn’t force herself to look away. She could still faintly smell his cologne on her, feel where his hand had rubbed her, where his head had rested against hers. Feeling her face heat, she ducked her head, breaking the eye contact.

“Almost done?” She asked, gesturing towards the paperwork still scattered on his desk.

Barba swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Ah, almost. One more opening statement to prep for….”

And just like that, the moment was gone, and they were both back to their spots, Barba at his desk, Devon on the couch, both working away into the night.

Coming Home Part Seven

JJ x Reader

Warnings: There will be mentions of the sexual assault from the previous episodes. Other than that, nothing that the show doesn’t cover: alcohol and physical fights, etc. 

I’m sorry I’ve been MIA, since summer started I’ve just been running around with my friends and I haven’t had any time to write really. I’d also like to apologize for being so inconsistent when posting this series, I’d like to try to get another part up for you guys at some point this weekend. If you have stuck with me and this series I’d just like to give you a huge thank you, from the bottom of my heart it means so much. With that being said, I hope you enjoy and as always let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist:) 

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9

You struggle reaching up to take your mint green surfboard off of the roof of your white SUV, in times like this your height provides you no advantage. After a few protests you finally allow Kie to help you. Kie, Sarah, and yourself head down to the beach and plop down in the sand to wait for the boys. 

“I swear I can normally get it down on my own!” you argue. 

“Oh yeah, I don’t doubt you. Maybe you’re just extra short today.”

You stick your tongue out at Kie and laugh. Sarah hands each of your water bottles from her bag. You open your rose colored, sticker covered, hard plastic bottle and take a sip. 

“The waves look good today.” Sarah comments. 

“Yeah and it’s hot as hell, what’s taking them so long?”

“It’s the boys, what do you expect?” Kie chuckles, taking a sip from her forest green hard plastic water bottle.

“Ok fair point but I really thought they would have beaten us here,” you reply. 

“Honestly me too, it takes way longer to get in and get out of dresses than it does pants and shirts.” Sarah agrees. 

“Actually that’s not true, you guys just have to shimmy out, don't even get me started on all the shirt buttons.” John B appeared out of nowhere and stuck his surfboard in the sand before leaning down to give Sarah a kiss. Both you and Kie pretended to vomit, but you couldn’t hold back a smile at seeing your best friends so happy together. 

“Clearly you’ve never seen a corset back dress” Sarah rolled her eyes with a smile. 

“Corsets are still a thing!?” John B said, eyes wide. 

“Yep, beauty is pain my friend.” You stood up and grabbed your surfboard. “What’s taking the other two so long, by the time those slowpokes get here we’ll be night surfing.” 

“And that’s a bad thing because?” Kie asked. 

“It’s not, I’m just itching to catch some waves. I haven’t had the chance to surf since I got back.”

“No way!” John B gasped. 

“My aunt and uncle have kept me pretty busy and I have summer work so…” 

As you finished your sentence you saw JJ and Pope emerge from the entrance to the beach. They each had their boards tucked under their arms.

“It’s about time!” Kie called out to the boys who were casually strolling toward the four of you, their feet sinking into the hot sand as they walked. When they reached the group, Sarah and Kie rose to their feet.

“Dude, Bug hasn’t surfed in years.” John B said slapping Pope on the chest and moving to grab his board. 

“So a little rusty now are we?” JJ smirked and raised his eyebrows at you. 

You rolled your eyes. “Not even a little, I could still kick all of your asses.” 

“Those are fighting words y/n!” Pope exclaimed cupping his fist over his mouth in surprise. 

“I’ve never been one to back away from a fight” you stepped toward JJ and John B not breaking eye contact with either of them. Sarah and Kie rolled their eyes and exchanged a look, they knew how competitive the boys were with each other, and with you back in the group it seemed as though the many bets that took place between everyone were only going to increase. 

“50 bucks we catch more waves than you.” John B motioned between himself and JJ. 

“Alright, you're on!” 

“And a kiss.” JJ added, a flirty smirk growing on his face but worry flashed behind his eyes. You looked at Sarah and Kie. 

Gulping you nodded. “Sounds good.” You extended your pinkie towards John B, his mouth was slightly agape, he was stunned that JJ had finally worked up the courage to even wager something like that. “What?” 

“Nothing, nothing.” He extended his pinkie to you. You locked them and then pressed your thumbs together. This was the ritual you guys had developed for confirming bets and dares. 

You then turned to JJ with your pinkie extended and did the same. His eyes hadn’t left you, he analyzed your body language for any sort of indication of your true feelings toward his flirty forfeit. He was worried he’d pushed too far. 

“Well what are we waiting for??” Sarah picked up her board and started toward the water. Everyone followed. 

Kie whispered to you and grinned as you walked down to the water together, “Well, are you gonna mess up on purpose?”

“Hell no! I don’t care what's on the line and I used to kick their butts in competitions like this all the time so I’m not worried.” 

The six of you spent two hours on the water, everyone collectively decided to dry off and grab some dinner at around sunset. Your confidence had failed you, it turned out that after five years off of your surfboard you were a bit rusty, but the competition was close. JJ caught 10, John B: 8, and you: 6. 

“So not quite the surfer you used to be huh Bug?” Pope ruffled your hair as you tied your surfboard back onto your car, followed by Kie and Sarah’s

“Maybe I overestimated how much a five year break would have affected me.” You said turning around and leaning against your passenger door. 

“You weren’t that awful for how long you've been out of the water.” Kie said reassuringly. 

“I don’t know she wiped out a lot.” John B punched you in the arm playfully as he came over from securing his board to the van. 

Now JJ approached the rest of you his heart was beating out of his chest, he had been wanting to kiss you for years. Quite frankly he couldn’t believe his first kiss with you was going to be in front of all the Pogues. “It doesn’t matter how bad she got.” He chuckled at the offended look on your face and leaned against your car next to you. “It’s time to pay up.”

“Okay, let me grab my wallet.” You walked around to your driver side door and grabbed two $50s out of your bag. Heart hammering in your chest and shaking slightly you handed the money to John B and JJ. “Here you go, I’ll be better next time.”

“Should we place bets on that now or should we wait?” Pope chuckled. 

“I think we’ll wait until she's paid off this one. I think you're forgetting something, Bug.” John B wrapped his arm around Sarah and they both looked between you and JJ who were both visibly uncomfortable. 

JJ scratched the back of his head and stood up straight. “You really don’t have to if your not comforta-” 

“I’m a woman of my word, I never go back on a bet.” You squared up with him, your stomach dropping. Suddenly you got an idea. “You’ll get your kiss Blondie.”

JJ closed his eyes and leaned in. You placed your arms around his neck and rose onto your tippie toes as he grabbed your waist, careful to place his hand where he knew your back wasn’t bruised. Just before your lips touched you craned your neck and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. Even though you hadn’t kissed his lips there was a moment of electricity between you two, your hands didn’t fall from around his neck and he didn’t drop the hold he had on your waist. 

“Well that was anticlimactic.” Pope commented and began walking toward the van. 

“No kidding.” John B said joining Pope, they were both disappointed. They had been rooting for the two of you for as long as they can remember and had hoped that this would be a breakthrough. 

JJ dropped his hold on your waist. You let your arms fall to your sides and took a step back, showing a sly smile at the way you had avoided kissing JJ in front of everyone. Surprisingly, there wasn’t any look of disappointment on JJ’s face. Kie and Sarah thought this was odd, considering you all kissed each other’s foreheads pretty regularly. JJ seemed to be somewhat entranced at the level of intimacy. He had held you before, but never like that. 

“You good Blondie?” 

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, um, I’ll see you guys at the wreck in a few.” He trotted towards the van. 

You, Kie, and Sarah climbed into your car. You were snapped out of your own daze as Kie and Sarah both said together, “Why didn’t you kiss him!?” 

It took you a moment to process their question. “I- I was too nervous.”

“Why were you nervous? He was obviously into it.” Sarah buckled her seatbelt in the back seat and leaned forward on her knees to be closer to you and Kie. 

“Because it’s JJ.” you sighed. “He’s been my best friend for like I don’t even know how long. I just got nervous, and like yeah I wanna be with him so badly. I said it earlier, what if I mess it up?” You let your head fall onto the top of your steering wheel and you closed your eyes. 

“You won’t!” Kie rubbed your arm as you sat upright again. 

-

The next morning you woke up early. You hadn’t slept very well that night. Throughout dinner you had been stealing glances at JJ, regretting your decision not to kiss him. A million what ifs continued to run through your mind as you pulled on your favorite purple bikini, some Hawaiian shorts, and a tank top; and made your way downstairs for breakfast. You were fixing yourself a bowl of cereal when your aunt joined you in the kitchen, her coffee cup in hand. 

“So hun! You’ve been getting home late these last few days, what have you been up to? How’s Rafe?” 

“I actually haven’t seen him since the other morning. I don’t know if Uncle told you but I reconnected with some of my childhood friends through Sarah. So I’ve been spending time with them.” You swiftly avoided her question about Rafe in attempts to put him as far out of your mind as you could until midsummers tomorrow. 

“That’s wonderful sweetie! What friends are these? I must remember them.” 

A wide smile spread across your face, “John B, Pope, and JJ! And their friend Kie who I went dress shopping with yesterday.” 

“Oh I love those boys! I can’t wait to see them again. Are you excited for tomorrow!?”

“Yes very! I can’t wait to show you my dress. It’s absolutely gorgeous!” You poured the milk into your bowl of cereal and grabbed a spoon. 

“I’m sure it is darling, Rafe’s jaw is going to be on the floor!” Your aunt smiled at you. “Would you mind helping me set up tomorrow, you can bring Sarah and Kie if you’d like!

You took a shallow breath and pushed more thoughts of how you were going to deal with Rafe from your head. “Yes of course.” 

“Thank you so much y/n.” Your aunt placed a kiss on your head before joining your uncle in the living room. Just then your phone buzzed. 

                                                  Bookie😊💙

JJ and Pope are still passed out. 

Sarah stayed the night, can you pick up Kie

and meet us here at around noon to hang and go fishing?

Oh and goodmorning Bug:)

                                                                    Good morning Bookie! Yeah 

                                                                             I’ll grab her see you then!

After breakfast you did your kookwork, cleaned your room, and did some laundry. At around 11:30 you called Kie. 

“Hey Kie! John B wanted me to come pick you up on my way to the Chateau, is that okay?” 

“Hey y/n, yes of course! How are you after yesterday?” 

You hesitated before answering. “I’m okay, my ego hurts a bit, I really gotta get practicing.”

“Y/n, you know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“I know.”

“Soo, are you okay? The two of you seemed pretty awkward at dinner.” 

“Yeah I’m fine I guess. I didn’t sleep much. I really hope everythings okay when I see him later. Honestly, I should have kissed him. I feel like the situation would almost be less awkward.” 

“Yeah, probably but hey I’m sure it's gonna be fine. You two care way too much about each other to let something like this make things weird. Also if you had kissed him, that probably would have been the first of many. You guys are awful at hiding your feelings.” She teased.

“Kie! You don’t know for sure that he feels the same way about me..” 

“Um, yeah I do. It’s so obvious honey.”

“Ugh whatever” You laughed. “I’m gonna head out now, I’ll see you in a few.” 

“Okay see you soon! Bye!”

“Byeee!” 

You smiled to yourself as you hung up the phone. If JJ actually did feel the same way, you hoped you’d find out at Midsummers. The image of you walking in with JJ and the Pogues caused your heart to swell with joy. Just as you were about to grab your keys and head out you got a text. 

                                                       Rafe

Listen, we need to talk about midsummers tomorrow. 

Can I please call you?

                                                                      What is there to talk about? 

I’ll explain, just please let me call you. 

                                                                                                         Fine. 

Your stomach twisted as you answered the phone. 

“Please make this quick. I have somewhere to be.”

“Hello to you too!”

“Really?” Your voice was ridden with annoyance and hurt. He got the message. 

His voice was soft. “I’m really sorry, y/n. I know what I did wasn’t okay. I feel awful for hurting you.” 

“Thank you for saying that but I don’t accept your apology. I can’t forgive what you did to me or what you said to me.” Tears formed in your eyes. Rafe had been your first kiss and the first boy to ever take you on a date. What he did hurt in so many different ways, talking to him made you feel sick and it made your skin crawl. 

“You hurt me too you know. I thought you were my girlfriend, I was starting to fall in love with you. And the other day you just discredited our whole relationship in front of my sister and her little Pogue boyfriend, who apparently you know really well.”

“Rafe you sexually assaulted me. Do you not realize that? And even then, have you seen me lately. There are cuts on my back that are going to scar. I can barely do anything without feeling them and remembering everything that happened. Do you think that’s something I want to relive? Do you think I am going to want to explain that to people, or my kids? I haven't even told my aunt and uncle what they’re really from.” You spat at him, tears burning down your cheeks. 

“I know what I did! Do you think I don’t think about it too?” 

“Oh I’m sure you do, right now. But in a few months or years, you’ll forget. This is something I’m going to have to live with for my entire life.” You swallowed a sob, not wanting him to know just how upset you actually were. “Can we not have this conversation right now. I have to be somewhere and I didn’t really wanna talk to you in the first place. What did you want Rafe?” 

He huffed and gave up the fight. There was a tone of sadness in his voice, “I haven’t told my dad about the breakup. He adores you y/n, almost as much as I do. Can you please act like we're still together at Midsummers? All you have to do is walk in with me and give me one dance and other than that I’ll leave you alone. You haven’t told your aunt and uncle either. We can tell them this weekend. We can tell them that you and I wanted different things or whatever. I just really don’t want my dad to be mad at me tomorrow.” 

“Rafe, I’m sorry about upsetting your dad but I can’t do that.” You hung up the phone. You were disgusted and anger coursed through your veins. He was truly unbelievable. You grabbed your keys and slid into your birkenstocks and headed out the door. 

-

You sat on the front porch of the Chateau in a daze. You hadn’t said anything besides hello since you arrived with Kie. She knew something was wrong as soon as she got into your car but she didn’t want to push you. John B and Sarah were on your right. She was cuddled into him, her head resting on his shoulder as she fiddled with a string on his yellow t-shirt. Kie was sitting on the edge railing with her headphones in, judging by the words silently leaving her lips she was listening to No Woman No Cry by Bob Marley & The Wailers. Across from you JJ and Pope were playing would you rather.

“Bug wanna play?” JJ asked you as they started a new round. 

When you continued to stare into the distance John B waved a hand in front of your face. 

“Hello? Earth to Y/n.” 

“Oh umm uhh what was that? Sorry.” You snapped out of your hollowed state. 

“Are you okay Bug?” Pope asked, leaning forward on his knees concerned. JJ looked at you worried, he noticed that you were acting a little off as soon as you got there. He was worried it was because of yesterday. He had been scared to push you after what happened with Rafe, but he had done it anyway and he felt stupid for it.

“Yeah I’m fine. Just tired, I had to get up early to do some chores and summer work.” You lied. 

JJ could tell that was a lie, but he really didn’t want to make things awkward. “Ew, why are you doing school in the summer? I thought you were smart Bug.” He teased you. 

“I am smart, it’s not summer school. A few of my credits from my school in Rhode Island didn’t transfer to the curriculum of the Kook Academy so I have to take some classes before I can go there in the fall.” 

“You’re going to the Kook Academy?” Pope said, raising his eyebrows and leaning back into the couch once again. John B turned to you questioningly and JJ’s face dropped slightly. 

“Unfortunately. My aunt and uncle insisted that it’s what my mom and dad would have wanted but I’d much rather go to KDHS with you guys.” 

“Me too.” Kie chimed in shifting her legs so they hung over the railing and faced you.

“Me three.” Sarah sat up and slumped her shoulders, prompting a back rub from John B. 

Kie continued, “Not to dampen your spirits, but it sucks. The education is great and all but aside from Sarah and I, everyone is rude and stuck up.” 

“Great I can’t wait for the first day!” You huffed sarcastically. 

“Okay cut it with the school talk, it’s making me sick.” JJ added, his face was sad as he only just realized you wouldn’t be attending school with himself, Pope, and John B once again. 

“You act like you don’t skip at least one class every day.” Pope teased. 

“That’s only sometimes.” JJ said defensively with a laugh. 

“Mmhm you tell yourself that bud.” John B said under his breath. 

Sarah changed the subject addressing you and Kie, “Do you guys wanna get ready at my place tomorrow? That way the boys can pick us up and actually take us.” 

“That sounds nice!” Kie said hopping to her feet. 

“Is Rafe going to be there?” you asked in what you hoped was a calm voice. At the mention of his name JJ’s jaw tightened and John B’s fist clenched.

“No! He’s getting ready at Toppers with Kelce.” 

“Okay then I’m down! Oh and that reminds me! Would you guys mind helping me and my aunt set up tomorrow morning?” 

“Not at all!” Kie smiled. 

“Thank you!” 

“I’m so excited for tomorrow!” Pope exclaimed, “It’s going to be so nice to not be working the barbecue for a change.” 

“Me too.” You mustered a weak smile. John B, Sarah, Pope, and Kie all started a conversation about plans for tomorrow. You got up and sat down on the arm of the couch next to JJ, “Can we go talk?”

“Yeah sure.” His stomach dropped. The two of you walked off the porch and down to the dock. You each sat down and dipped your feet in the water.

“I just wanna make sure everything is okay between us after yesterday.” You ran your hands through your hair and turned to him smiling. “Are we good?” 

“Yeah of course we are…” He kicked his feet and smiled onto the water before turning towards you. “Well we're good, but to tell you the truth. I’m not. God I can’t believe I’m saying this. I’ve always loved you, It’s always been you Y/n. When you were gone I felt like I was missing a part of myself. I should have said this when we were kids but I was so scared that you wouldn’t want me but now, I don’t care. I can’t keep this from you anymore. I can’t sit here and watch you hurt because of some rich ass hole and not hold you until you forget about it. I can’t not want to keep you safe. I don’t expect you to feel the sa-”

You kissed him right there and then. Nothing had ever felt more right in the world. It was like two pieces of a puzzle falling into place. JJ grabbed your waist and pulled you close, placing his other hand on the side of your neck. You put one hand on the side of JJ’s face and let the other rest on his forearm. The kiss was soft yet desperate, you had both been wanting this for seven years and neither of you wanted to pull away. You broke the kiss, out of breath. You pulled away and brushed his bottom lip with your thumb as you looked directly into his baby blue eyes. 

“Well you got your kiss.” You both laughed. “It’s always been you JJ, I had no idea that you felt the same way I did. I’ve loved you since we were ten and not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about you. I’ve always wanted to keep you safe, to make you happy, and to give you the love you deserve. I just never said anything because I was too scared to lose you.” Tears formed in your eyes. “I can’t lose you JJ.”

He planted a kiss on your forehead before smiling into your eyes, “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m yours Bug, I always have been.”

“I’m yours Blondie.” You kissed him again softly before pulling him into a hug. The two of you sat there for several minutes just wrapped up in each other's arms. You didn’t break your hold on each other until Sarah came down to the dock looking for you.

“There you guys are! Oh um, should I come back?” 

“No, no! It’s fine.” you pulled away from JJ and blushed. 

He stood and extended a hand to you, pulling you to your feet. He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear before interlocking his fingers with your own and turning to Sarah. 

“Whats up?” 

“Everyone was just wondering where you guys went.”

“We were just chatting.” You laid your head on JJ’s shoulder and smiled. 

“Oh well, Pope is making some dinner so we should probably go back up to the Chateau.”

“Yeah probably” JJ laughed, “I’m starving.” 

“When are you not?” You looked up at him and rolled your eyes playfully.

When the three of you walked in the front door, John B could tell something had changed immediately. He knew both of you way too well to not have noticed. 

“Finally!” He smiled and placed a chip into his mouth. 

“It took y’all long enough.” Pope realized what John B was talking about as he placed some burgers on the kitchen table. 

“But they got there,” Kie smiled between the both of you. 

“Thank god.” John B made prayer hands and shook them back and forth. 

“Bookie you knew? And you didn’t tell me?” You gasped. 

“It’s the only secret I’ve ever kept from you and before you protest, you kept it from me too. You didn’t hide it very well but you never told me.” 

“Touche.” you playfully glared at him. 

“So are we gonna eat or just indulge in the love fest of our new happy couple?” Pope said sarcastically, “Because I’m starving.”

“Me too.” You admitted breaking your hold of JJ’s hand to take a seat at the table. “Well?” 

Everyone sat down around you, JJ sat next to you and placed his hand on your knee. It was as if nothing was different, because in a way, nothing was. You and JJ fit perfectly together, there was really no shift in your relationship because that love had been simmering under the surface for years. Now it was finally there, openly for everyone to see. Which seemed to be a relief for your friends now that they didn’t have to watch or listen to each of you pine over each other. It was as though everything had finally shifted into place. In that moment you could not have been any more happy, of course you always had that twinge of sadness because of your parents but after all this time and everything you had been through, you were back with your family. 

-

The next morning you awoke with a wide grin on your face. A weight that you held for seven years had been lifted from your chest, and JJ was finally yours. Today was midsummers! You were in for a fantastic night. You turned over to check your phone before getting up. On your home screen, which was a selfie Kie had taken of all six of you on the Pogue last night, you woke up to two texts. 

                                                 Blondie🤙💖

Good morning gorgeous:) 

I can’t wait to see you tonight. 

Have fun setting up with everyone! 

                                                  Sarah😙💕

Good morning! Kie and I will be over 

at around 9, see you then lovie:)

Each prompted a big smile and a sweet reply. It was 8 o’clock so you had to jump in the shower and get ready for the day. After your shower you pulled on a comfy pastel striped sundress and brushed your hair before heading down to eat breakfast with your aunt and uncle. Your aunt had made chocolate chip waffles and poured you a cup of tea. 

“Good morning Auntie! Good morning Uncle!” You gave each of them a kiss on the cheek before taking your seat across from them. “Sarah and Kie will be over in a bit to help us set up.”

“Someones in a good mood!” Your uncle smiled from behind his coffee mug. 

“She must be excited!” Your aunt addressed your uncles comment, “Isn’t that right sweetie?”

“Yes, very excited,” You took a bite of your breakfast before continuing. “I have never been to midsummers before, I helped Heyward and Pope with the food one year but I’ve never gotten to dress up like this before.” 

“I’m glad you’re getting to have this new experience with us honey.” Your Uncle gave you a kiss on the forehead as he took his plate to the sink.

As you finished your food, Kie and Sarah knocked on the door. Your aunt opened it and greeted them with a hug. 

“Good morning girls! Thank you so much for your help.” 

“Good morning Mrs. Patty!” Sarah smiled as she started down the hall toward the kitchen. 

“It’s really no problem at all.” Kie said following Sarah. Your aunt followed them as Kie finished, “Thank you for hosting, I know everyone is so excited for tonight.” 

“I’m so glad to hear that! I can’t wait to see the boys, I haven’t seen them since I last visited when y/n was in fourth grade.” 

“Oh I didn’t know you knew the boy’s!” Sarah said excitedly, “John B and I are actually dating.” She blushed. 

“Oh how wonderful sweetheart! He’s a sweet young man, my sister thought of him as a son.” Your aunt brushed Sarah’s arm as they entered the kitchen joining you at the island where you stood finishing your tea. 

“What about you Kie?” Your aunt asked, “I don’t mean to intrude I know I have only just met you but I can’t help but wonder, do you have a flame with any of the boys?” 

“Oh it's no intrusion at all Mrs. Patty.” Kie blushed, “Pope and I kind of have a thing going on… well sort of, it's not official.” 

“Oh aren’t you two sweet. I’m sure he’ll ask you to make it official shortly, I mean he’d be stupid not to. You’re a gorgeous girl!”

“I know right, what is he waiting for?” you smiled at Kie as you put your mug into the sink. 

“That’s too bad, that leaves poor JJ without a date tonight.” your Aunt frowned before going to her office to get her to do list for setup. 

Kie’s eyes went wide. 

Sarah whispered, “You didn’t tell her?!” 

“No,” you whispered back.

Kie reminded Sarah, “Mrs. Patty still thinks that y/n fell out of the lifeguard chair last week.” 

“So she think’s I’m still with Rafe.” You finished Kie’s sentence. “So does your dad Sah.”

“Well what about you and JJ? You guys are matching, everyone's gonna notice.” 

“I’m thinking we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” You chuckled nervously. “I figure I’m going to walk in with you guys in a group, no one will suspect anything besides Rafe and I’m praying he won’t want to make a scene.”

Your aunt returned with her list. Sarah helped your aunt with the centerpieces while you and Kie rolled silverware. 

“So, how did it happen?” She smiled. “I’m so happy it did, I haven't seen JJ smile this much since the night we found the gold.” 

You blushed as you told Kie about last night on the dock. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before. He literally means everything to me, we’ve been through so much together over the years. I’ve never kept anything from him before and it feels so good to not have to hide it or over analyze everything anymore.”

“Okay that’s literally like the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.” She hugged you. “I’m so happy for you y/n, you both deserve each other.” 

 “Thank you Kie. I could literally go on all day about why I’m so happy that that boy is mine but we’ve got a party to set up.” The two of you giggled and got back to work. 

The majority of set up went pretty smoothly, there were only some technical difficulties when you tried setting up the sound system but your uncle was able to figure it out. Your house was draped in white, silver, and gold lanterns. You and Sarah had twisted pieces of white fabric around the banister on the staircase. In the living room there were tables set up with trays ready for food that would be brought in later and star confetti was placed on the stairs that led into your backyard where tables were set up along with a dance floor. Down on the beach there were white blankets setup with gold and silver pillows so people could sit and watch the sunset later that night. It looked like a scene out of The Great Gatsby. When your aunt had only a few finishing touches to put together, you retrieved your dress, makeup, and shoes from your room and headed over to Tanny Hill to get ready. 

-

Sarah finished your final curl with some hairspray and broke it up with her finger before turning you around. Your two favorite girls stood on either side of you with smiles spread wide across their faces. 

Kie’s hair was in a soft updo, her natural curls framed her face beautifully, and you had braided some baby’s breath into her bun. Her makeup complemented her features perfectly, she wore a white silvery eye shadow that was blended with some light brown and peach shades as well as some peach blush and clear lip gloss. She wore delicate silver earrings that had flowers chained together so that they reached a little below her jawline and a matching flowery chained necklace sparkled on her neck. With her floaty peach dress she looked like the goddess of spring. 

If Kie was a goddess, Sarah was a queen. She looked elegant and regal in her gorgeous white and floral ballgown. She had a low swooping bun at the base of her neck with pink tea roses tucked above where the bun formed. She had on pink blush and some rosy bronze eye shadow that was blended with a subtle light purple, she also sported some tinted lip gloss. A rose gold bangle glittered on her forearm and she had matching dangly earrings with a twisted detail, they rotated when she moved her head and looked as if they were magical. 

You marveled at the beauty of your friends for a moment before turning to see how they had made you up. Your emerald dress was just as dazzling and classy as you had remembered, you felt absolutely stunning in it and loved the way it made you look taller and brought out your figure. Sarah had blended some light gold eye shadow with a neutral brown and dotted your cheeks with pink blush. Kie had made sure your freckles still shone through the little bit of foundation Sarah put on your skin. You wore your mother’s pearl necklace and matching earrings. Kie had braided your hair into a low half up half down and wove some sea lavender into the strands of the braids on either side of your face. She left some of your baby hairs out to frame your face, and your natural waves did so nicely. Sarah had curled your long hair and fluffed them into gorgeous waves that cascaded down your back and hid the bruises perfectly. 

“Wow.” You said breathlessly. 

“I know!” Kie echoed. 

“You guys look gorgeous.” Sarah smiled at the two of you. 

“So do you!” You both pulled her into a hug.

“I just want you guys to know how much you mean to me.” You smiled pulling away from the hug. “I grew up as one of the boys and it's beyond amazing to have you two to do things like this with.”

They both beamed at you. 

“I’m so glad to have you too y/n.” Kie said.

“You have become like another sister to me faster than even Kie did, y/n.” Sarah added. 

You beamed back at them, your heart swelling with joy, “You guys are Pogues now, call me Bug.”

“Really!” Sarah’s eyes were wide with excitement. 

“Yes, but I wouldn’t call any of the boys by their nicknames until they give you the go ahead.” 

“Got it!” Kie said as she pulled you in for another quick hug. 

Sarah’s doorbell rang. 

“I think our dates are here.” Sarah raised her eyebrows and you all headed downstairs. 

The boys' jaws collectively dropped as you each filed out the door. They had all styled their hair as neatly as they could and had a fresh shave. The boys each looked dashing in their respective attire. 

“Don’t my boys look spiffy!” You exclaimed sweetly, “You’re all grown up I might cry.” 

“You look pretty good yourself Bug, much nicer than the princess dress you used to wear to preschool.” John B giggled after sliding Sarah’s corsage onto her wrist and placing a kiss on her hand. 

Pope handed a bouquet of peach and white daisies to Kie as he blushed and took her hand. 

JJ still hadn’t spoken; he was all consumed in the way you looked. He had thought it wasn’t possible for you to get more beautiful, but for the thousandth time, you had proved him wrong.

“Bug, you look.” His words were breathless and his smile stretched across his face, “Stunning.” He slid a corsage of white roses onto your wrist and pressed a kiss onto your lips. 

“Why thank you,” you smiled. His cologne was your favorite and your mind was put at ease at the familiar smell of it. “You look very handsome Blondie.” You smoothed your hands across his chest. 

“I try.” He smirked and took your hand. As you all headed down the street toward your house. 

-

“Woah, this is where you live now Bug?” Pope turned to you amazement in his eyes. 

“Yep! Rose sold my aunt and uncle a pretty nice place huh.”

You all walked through your house and out onto the dance floor. You let go of JJ’s hand and explained to your friends, “I have to go find my aunt and uncle they’re going to want to see me in my dress. I’ll meet you guys by Heyward in a few?”

“Okay sounds good!” John B saluted you.

You wove through the crowd looking for your aunt and uncle. Just as you spotted them talking to Kie’s parents by one of the tables you felt a hand on your shoulder. Turning around you were met with the eyes of Rafe Cameron. Only then you noticed Ward a few feet from where you stood, he was conversing with Rose and some real estate partners you recognized from your aunt’s happy hour. Before you could say anything Rafe moved his hand to the small of your back and pulled you in for a kiss. You pushed away immediately. 

“Rafe what the heck!” 

John B must have heard you because he pushed his way through the crowd to where you were. JJ followed closely behind him. John B reached you first and placed himself in between you and Rafe, JJ stepped into you and wrapped his arms around you as you tucked your head into his shoulder. 

John B spoke intensely, “What the hell did you do now?”

JJ followed him saying, “Haven’t you put her through enough.” 

As he looked at JJ, Rafe recognized the bracelet on his wrist as one that had been on your wrist on so many different occasions. Jealousy flooded his face as he turned toward you, “What the hell is this y/n?” 

People started to notice the situation and your aunt and uncle navigated through the crowd to see what was going on. You stood there paralyzed, your mind moved a million miles a minute but took in the situation slowly. While your thoughts raced through your head everything else was in slow motion. You barely registered Rafe pulling JJ off of you which caused you to fall forward. As you tripped over your dress John B caught you. There was a collective gasp and whatever fight that was about to start between JJ and Rafe ceased. You looked up at John B with your pupils blown out in fear. Your hair had fallen forward. Everyone saw the watercolor of bruises across the open back of your dress which was broken by long red cuts. 

Rose and Ward  rushed over to you followed by your aunt and uncle. Topper and Kelce pulled Rafe out of the crowd and Pope and Kie stood with JJ, Sarah met John B who was helping you stabilize yourself. 

Rose put a light hand on your arm, “Y/n, sweetheart who did this to you? Was it him?” She pointed at JJ. The pogues all scoffed and JJ’s face fell. 

You responded immediately with tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “No he would never lay a hand on me.” 

“Rafe did it.”  

If anyone ever needs anything, wants to give me feedback, or just wants to chat about fandoms please message me and let’s be friends:))  

@tangledinsparkles​​ @hopelesswritingxd​​ @im-a-stranger-thing​​ @jenahbell​​ @annedub​​ @hmspxgue​​ @harrysbbby​​  @spn-pogues​ @nxtrogers​​ @whoeverineedtobe​​ @jjmaybby​ @thegreatestofheck​

White Nights, Ch. 1: The Balcony

A year or so after Trespasser, Lavellan takes a brief vacation from mapping weaknesses in the Veil to Val Royeaux, and brings a new lover with her. She steps out to her balcony to enjoy the melancholy night, glances over curiously when a man steps out to the balcony attached to the room next to her, and freezes. It looks like the Dread Wolf had the same idea.

read on AO3 here

read Ch. 2: The Docks here, and Ch. 3: The Broadsheet here.

Sweat drying on her skin, she fishes a crumbled nightgown out of her pack and makes herself presentable. Anders snoozes on the bed, blissed into sleep. He surrenders himself so easily to passion. Lavellan watches him sleep, envious. She has always thought too much.

She finds the leather pouch of tobacco cut with elfroot a former lover made her, prepares her pipe, and opens the shutters to the balcony to enjoy it properly. She lights it, smiling to herself. She has never really gotten a vacation, but under Divine Victoria’s new law, mages enjoy an untold-of freedom of movement. And while she has left the infrastructure behind her, she still has the money and prestige. Enjoy the world while it still lasts, he said. Lavellan snorts and smokes her pipe. She has embraced it utterly, the cool night clean on her skin. Below her the streets of Val Royeaux babble, and she can smell the ocean. They took a room a few streets from the Alienage: that too is new. The Inquisitor, retired or not, is different from other elves, even when she has that apostate lover in tow. If anything, the addition of Anders endears her to the gossips of Val Royeaux. She has always given them something to talk about. She traces out the Pleiades and smiles. An adoring lover, a sea coast, and one more day off? What more can she ask? The shutters of the balcony next to her rustle and she glances over to see a bearded man step out, face cast in shadow. Lavellan notes the ears: another one of the People made good. He’s clutching a bottle of wine. She admires his silhouette--Anders is well-built but not particularly shapely--as he sits on the edge of the balcony and pours himself a glass. He lights himself a candle and raises the glass to his lips. He glances at her curiously and freezes. Lavellan takes the pipe from her lips, iced under his gaze. The rosy post-coital warmth disappears as if she’s just leapt into the ocean. Solas’ lips move soundlessly as he tries and fails to articulate their mutual horror. She thinks dimly, at least I still make him speechless. She should have put her prosthetic back on. She says, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Hand trembling, he raises his glass to his lips. He does not spill a drop. “I am leaving in the morning. I will leave earlier.” He drinks and sets the glass with a clink back onto the balcony’s edge. Still he stares at her. She supposes she looks just-fucked, because she is--hair ruffled, skin reddened, and nightgown thrown on carelessly. Anders likes to sleep nude. Lavellan laughs. “Wonderful. Hilarious. Three years Leliana has tried to track you,” and succeeded, but she will not tell him that, “and I find you on the opposite balcony, undressed. I suppose you thought the hair would be enough of a disguise.” Solas smiles. “It has worked before.” It hasn’t, but again she will not tell him that. “Certainly.” She puffs on her pipe and exhales smoke, watching it drift towards the street opposite. She can see light spilling behind the shutters of the floor opposite. Someone else like to fuck with the lights on. Lavellan smiles thinly. She remembers finding him in a tavern with Varric and Hawke, not too long about the Exalted Council. They had managed to find three of his eluvians in Ostwick and Kirkwall, thanks to his arrogance, and reclaim one of them. The beard does not disguise his face--or his swagger. She closes her eyes: unless this is all an elaborate double-bluff. What would Keeper Deshanna say? The wolf chews off his own leg to escape the trap. He has his back to the door, but both of his arms--and he can turn people to stone now, Morrigan confirmed. That would not be the worst thing he has done to her, though, would it? He is staring at her remaining hand, at the sylvanwood ring she now wears--a gift from Merrill, who said she needed it more. Lavellan laughs bitterly. “A Keeper’s ring,” she says. “I suppose you would not know the story. A relic of the People, to remind its leaders of the Dread Wolf’s betrayal. Though it was a lesson I never learned, and was read too late besides.” Solas flinches. “I had hoped it was a wedding ring.” He glances towards her room. From his perspective, she supposes, the unmade bed and the man in it are just visible, if he cranes his neck a bit, which he is doing. She is tired of looking at her life from his perspective. “Fuck you,” Lavellan says. She lays the pipe down carefully and half-closes the shutters. If Anders wakes up, he’ll see her--but Solas will not see him. But Justice will not allow him to attack an unarmed man, as if the Dread Wolf is ever without his weapons. “My apologies,” he says. “That was inappropriate. I...I have hoped you have been happy.” She looks at him incredulously. “Which is why you stalk my dreams at night, exactly like the nightmare of Dalish legends. To hope that I’m happy.” She gestures grandly. “Which is why you appear here, at my balcony, on my one vacation--” “An unfortunate coincidence,” Solas cuts in coldly. “And I will go. You know it has never been my intention to cause you pain.” He turns away and picks up his glass. “You took my arm off,” Lavellan says. Solas stops. “I didn’t realize that was an accident.” He turns around and to her amusement he is smiling wryly. He rubs his forehead. “It was eating at your bone marrow. But the next time an ancient artifact of untold power starts a cancer in your body, I will let it fester. Thank you for letting me know.” Lavellan watches him coolly and imagines rubbing the hot ashes of her tobacco into his face. Maybe it will leave a mark like the Anchor did, before it melted the skin from her muscle and disabled her permanently. It had stunk. None of the salves Vivienne had concocted had soothed it. The Anchor’s heat would melt through the leather of every glove she hid it in too, towards the end. She had known for a long time she would need to amputate it. She just had not thought it would take her whole forearm. “Why didn’t you say anything?” she says. She knows she should let him leave, but she wants to know. “If you knew it would--fester. Why did you leave without warning me?” Fear lances through Solas’ eyes, flickering in the candlelight. “I am not a cruel man,” he says instead. “That is not an answer.” She smiles unpleasantly, sitting down at the balcony’s edge, and crosses her legs. His eyes trace up her body. He looks afraid. She knows how he likes to use her, to defend himself and to flagellate himself against the fundamental truths of his being. The Dalish have pegged him right. He is a cruel man. He is a monster. He lost his humanity millennia ago, sacrificed on the grave of Mythal. Morrigan told her what the Well whispers. If the evanuris deserved untold punishment for killing the All-Mother, what is his due? The perpetual bleeding wound of what he did to her. Her stump itches, and she scratches at it pointedly: it has long since scabbed over, but he does like to pick at his wounds. “You have your life,” Solas says testily. “You have your freedom, and all the riches of the Inquisition. You have the time left to you. What else can I give to you?” Anger twists in her so viscerally she coughs at the bile rising in her throat. She steadies herself. “I am not your fucking petitioner, Solas. You’re no god of mine. You never were.” She stares back defiantly. After the Council, once Morrigan clarified the vallaslin did not bind her to the will of Mythal, she had Deshanna draw her brand brighter. She likes it. Mythal had watched her People suffer, killed by those who would sacrifice them. Her vallaslin is a promise: vengeance, for the world. All her gods have long been dead, and she is the last one standing. The agents of Fen’Harel have found little support amongst the Dalish and the elves of the Free Marches, Ferelden, and Orlais. Solas says, “I’m sorry.” A breeze drifts cold from the sea, and Lavellan shivers. This nightgown is meant to be taken off, not kept on. She glances inside. Anders is still asleep. He won’t be upset when she explains this to him, he’s had his fair share of bad exes--and been the bad ex. She has few illusions about him. He eases something in her, for now. He’s more attached to her than she is to him. She likes it that way, to hold someone loosely for once. He will not be the one who leaves. He idolizes her a little bit, but he doesn’t idealize her like Solas did. Solas follows her gaze and purses his lips. He says, “I am keeping you from your rest.” Neither of them move. He wears an ugly expression, made worse by the glowstones inlaid at the edge of the building, the candle still flickering on the balcony. She has always enjoyed the harsh angularity of his face and the starkness of his emotions. He seethes with discontent. Sometimes he channels it productively, passionately, but she can never forget that this is the man who stared at the Nightmare boredly, but raged at the useless Kirkwall mages. There is a foot between their balconies, and she is acutely conscious of the space. He could vaunt over it easily. So could she. Ugily he stares at her, burning her visage into him. She wonders: does he like what he sees? Does that matter? Of course it does. Uncomfortable, she taps her pipe against the balcony. She shakes her head, and smiling, says, “You still haven’t answered my question.” “What is there left to say?” Solas clenches his hands. “You have taken my measure. Why do you need me to stay what you already know?” “Because I don’t,” Lavellan says. “Because I want you to admit it. You left me to die in pain--” Solas steps closer, distressed, but she throws her arm up. “Don’t interrupt! You told me you loved me. You fucked me. You,” she starts laughing, thinking about Crestwood, “you brought me to a swamp to show me ‘how much I meant to you.’” She is grinning now, staring at him. Solas looks wretched: as if that means something. “You tried to reenact your savior fantasy with me--’ar lasa mala revas,’ my ass. And when I objected, you left me. While claiming I meant the world to you. And then you let my arm rot off.” “There were--considerations.” “Corypheus,” Lavellan says bitterly. “The Blight that is coming. The decay that is spreading in the Emprise, despite how deep we dig. The wakened Titan. And, at the root of this all, Mythal.” Solas freezes. His eyes widen in surprise and he beams at her--but as quickly as the smile flashes across his face, it is gone. He arranges himself neutrally again, pointedly tucking his arms behind his back. That little familiar gesture still amuses her, as much as it makes her sad. She had thought he did that to keep from touching her. Even the gulf between them is not enough. He still wants to reach for her--he won’t, of course, but it pings her vanity to know he wants to. He utters, “Well done.” Lavellan says, “You’re a patronizing prick, do you know that?” “You certainly aren’t the first who’ve told me that,” Solas replies, amused. Despite himself, he has crept to the very edge of the balcony. She reaches for him and he takes her hand, helping her to her feet. He puts his hand on her waist to steady her. The embrace is clumsy; there is a foot between them and three storeys below them. She does not let go of his hand, he does not let of her waist, and when she looks up Solas bites his lip. “Fenhedis,” he says, and kisses her. She grips his arm to keep from falling. Kissing him is so easy. She does not need to think, but sighs raggedly into the embrace. They break the kiss but do not pull away. He rests his forehead against hers, awkwardly bracing his knee against the opposite balcony. He looks like he is about to leap over to join her, or fall between them. She smiles ironically. A year ago she would have muttered, “Dread Wolf take me,” at a kiss as devastating as this: but so he has, again. Lavellan nuzzles at his face and murmurs, “I cannot go into your room.” She draws an arbitrary boundary, when she has already crossed the threshold. Anders still lays sleeping in the bed behind her. She thinks to herself, I can gather information. He wants to stay with me. He wants me to stay. He has always said it is easy to tell me too much, whatever that means. I can bind him to that. This is not an excuse. She looks up at him. Solas rests his hand on her shoulder, eyes tender. “Meet me outside.” “I owe you that,” Solas says vaguely, and Lavellan raises an eyebrow. That, too, is an excuse, more patronizing than hers. She can use that. She thinks she can use that. She has her anger to whip the lines she will not cross into her feet. They carefully pull away from each other. One false move, and the other falls between the balconies. Lavellan finds her pipe, still smoldering slightly, and Solas collects his wine and candle. Before she closes the shutters, she turns and sees him watching her. He says, “I love you. Though we both know you deserve better. I love you.” “Stop it,” Lavellan says, and he laughs. She closes the shutters, smiling as tears dot at her eyes. She places the pipe on her dresser and goes to her lover. Lavellan leans over Anders and whispers, “Wake up--don’t say anything.” Anders frowns in his sleep, and she shakes his shoulder gently. “Quietly.” He turns, alarmed, so Lavellan puts her hand over his mouth. She whispers, “The Dread Wolf rented the room next to us.” Anders rubs his eyes and sits up, careful not to let the bed creak. “What the fuck?” She shushes him. “I’m serious,” she whispers. “And we’re going on a walk. Use the crystal to call Leliana if I’m not back by dawn.” Anders says, “You’re serious.” Sleep falling from his eyes, he focuses on her face and reaches for her. Healer’s hands: she takes his hand and presses a kiss into the palm. He traces the outline of her lips with his thumb. Guilt grasps her, and she moves away from his touch. His face falls. “You’re going on a night walk with the Dread Wolf. Your ex. The Dread Wolf--who not only put the Veil up in the first place, but wants to tear it down and kill us all.” She tenses. “Keep your voice down. He doesn’t think I’d wake you. Have that much faith in me.” Quietly she slides off of him and pulls off her dress. She shoots him a look over her shoulder, hoping to distract him, but he is clearly displeased. Quickly she pulls on underclothes, a tunic, leggings--but she can feel him fretting silently. “I won’t stop you,” Anders says finally. “But you do realize what this looks like to me.” He is completely still, playing along for her. Lavellan straps on her prosthetic and fits a jar of bees into the compartment. She brandishes it at him, and Anders smiles slightly. She walks over to him and kisses him gently. “I’ll be back before dawn,” she says firmly. “And if I’m not--he’d kill me, not kidnap me.” She taps her sylvanwood ring with her prosthetic clumsily. “He does not think I would wake you. While we’re gone, check the guest registry. I want to know what name he used. And then call Leliana.” Pointedly she hands him the sending crystal. Anders sighs. “I’ll be back,” she repeats. And I’ll keep him walking and talking so I won’t fuck him, too, she adds silently. “And we’ll regroup in the morning.”

Love After the Fact Chapter 60: By Firelight

Lance is a good husband. Keith is *mostly* cooperative.

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Lance is sitting in front of the crackling fireplace, his own cloak wrapped around his shoulders, Keith’s draped over his lap. It’s unbelievably cold, like every night since he’s been here, but staring up at two slivered moons crossing paths above him, Lance can’t bring himself to care.

He’s neglecting his duties, but he hasn't really had the chance to look at the moons before, never stared up at the sky and seen another body so very near. On Altea, it’s so, so easy to feel like there’s nothing and nowhere else. It’s so easy to feel alone.

Sometimes, he wonders if that’s why his people looked to the stars before the Galra. Perhaps the moons made them feel less alone. Then again, maybe not given that the first thing they did when they finally achieved space travel was go conquer other worlds…

Ah well. To each their own. Not like the Alteans didn’t have their collection of occupied territories-

“Hey.” Keith, smiling at him, braid drawn over his shoulder, end disheveled from anxious fiddling. “I didn’t think you’d be up.”

“I thought about retiring, but I wanted to stay up and watch the moons.”

“I see. Can I join you?”

“Of course. Want some dinner?” When Keith nods, Lance hands him one of the last remaining bowls he’d set beside himself for passersby. “You might want to scoop from the middle. I haven’t stirred it in a while and it’s cold, so it’s probably the only bit that isn’t scorched or chilled.”

Keith smiles, ladling some of the stew into the bowl. “Thank you for cooking.”

“Someone came by and shoved some ingredients and a recipe at me. I don’t think that they were expecting me to do a good job, but I did. Or so I’m told.”

“I bet that made them mad,” Keith chuckles, moving aside the red cloak in Lance’s lap so he can sit sideways against his chest. Lance pulls the cloak up over Keith’s legs to help him stay warmer. He’s shivering a little, but seeming unbothered otherwise. Accustomed to the cold. He tosses another log on the fire anyway, watching sparks dance against the starlit sky.

“The only thing they need to be mad at me is you, beloved. We both know that.”

“They don’t need that to be mad at you. They shouldn’t be mad at you at all. You’ve done nothing to them.” He takes another bite of Lance's stew.

Lance smiles, kisses the base of Keith’s large, fluffy ear as Keith’s tail finds his ankle. “Sometimes nothing is just as bad.”

“I suppose… This really is good, by the way. You did a wonderful job.”

“Thanks, beloved.”

Keith sets the empty bowl aside, turns to sit between Lance’s legs, facing the moons. Lance pulls the cloak up to the Galra’s chest to keep them both warm. “The moons will be new soon.”

“Both of them?”

“Yeah. It’s something that happens roughly once a centaphoeb… I was born under the new moons. It’s the darkest night you’ll ever see,” Keith whispered.

“Hm.” Lance stares at the sky, at the gaping voids in the stars where the looming silhouettes of the moons black out the sky. “Sounds terrifying.”

“Existentially, yes… Last time it happened, I was all alone. It was so dark and scary.”

“I can imagine.”

They sit quietly for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company, listening to the crackling of the fire. Lance knows Keith needs it, just as much as he knows he hates to ask. Keith’s not one to make himself that vulnerable, to actually use the word ‘need’. He knows the Galra is just itching to go back to his usual self-sufficient ways. Keith’s not the type to enjoy being tethered to any one person, not even Lance.

“I feel like by the time your season’s actually over, you’re going to be sick of me,” he murmurs.

Keith’s fingers lightly squeeze his wrist. “I could never be sick of you. Though sometimes I do miss solitude. Nothing against you, obviously. Just sometimes I want to be alone for a little while.”

“Thace says it’s not good for you to be alone.”

“He’s probably right,” Keith murmurs, sighing. “But people can be… so much. Sometimes I just need silence.”

“I trust you to know what you need, when you need it.”

Keith drags Lance’s hand -the one not around his waist- into his lap, toying with his fingers beneath the blanket. “Are you ready to tell me what happened this morning? I could tell you’d been crying.” He kisses the underside of Lance’s jaw. “It worries me when I see you cry. You usually bury all that in your work.”

“Romelle doesn’t recognize my sister anymore,” Lance whispers. “I just- We’ve tried so hard to bring her back, and nothing works. My father says that it’s not in her best interests to try anything else. She suffers for it, and it doesn’t work. I agree with him, but it hurts. For decaphoebs, she seemed fine. Thriving, apart from a few headaches. Running around with me, Allura, Adam, and Lanval, getting into trouble… I miss that. I miss the four of us just being able to have fun together.”

“Growing up sucks,” Keith whispers.

“It really, really does.” Lance’s eyes search the sky, looking for familiar stars, but it’s hard to tell which ones are which from this new angle. “How was your day? I know this morning wasn’t fun.”

“Well, I accidentally called my mother a breeder, so… Could have been better.” The Galra chuckles.

“I take it that’s a bit of a derogatory term?”

“Not just a bit. Basically, I implied all she’s good for, or that bearers are good for, is pushing out kits.”

Frowning, Lance twists his head to look his spouse in the face. “Is that really what you think of yourself?”

“Sometimes. I mean, I am expected to bear your children. It’s kind of the reason I was selected. Well, that, and my uncle wanted to get rid of me.”

“Keith.” Lance winces at his sharpened tone, at the slight droop to Keith’s ears. “What exactly do you think is going to happen when we have children?”

“I don’t know… I guess I assumed you’d be running the kingdom and I’d be raising our kits? But I don’t want that. That’s fine for some people, but I want to be able to do other things. I want to be other things-”

“Do you really think I could run a kingdom by myself? I mean, I’m flattered, but there is no way I could do everything I could do without you. Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. Listen.” Lance pushes some hair out of Keith’s face, trying to reach the luminescent eyes underneath. It falls right back into place. “We’re partners, beloved. Everything we do, we do together.

"You don't have to worry about me being absent or anything like that. I’m not my father, Keith-”

“I never said that! I know you’re not your father!” Keith’s alarm softens to something far more gentle. “You could never be your father, Lance. You’re too… you.”

“Yeah,” Lance whispers. “I know we’ve only known each other for a year, and we’re still learning a lot about each other. I mean, I learn new things about you every day. But I know you well enough to know that you could never be content being just one thing. Be everything you want, and if what you want right now isn’t parenthood, we have time. We can wait until your next season, a decaphoeb, a centaphoeb- However long you need to be ready for that. Then, when you are ready, we can do that.”

Keith tips his head against Lance’s chest, snuggling closer under the cloak. There’s always going to be a bit of conflict within himself, Lance knows. Keith is easily the best thing that’s ever happened to him, but the circumstances under which they met will always sting. The best he can do for his spouse is make sure it never happens again.

“What do you want, Lance? Are you ready?” Amethyst eyes stare up, glowing gold, glittering and almost hard, stubbornly waiting for an answer.

“I am so ready. I’ve wanted to be a father since I was a little kid.” Lance grins, thinking of all the times he imagined being a parent. “But like, I’ve got a couple milophoebs of life ahead of me, and so do you. We’ve got time for both of us to be ready first. We’ll live big, full lives, Keith. No matter what.”

The Galra’s still staring at him, but his eyes are soft, warm even with the unsettling glow of his night lenses. Lance isn’t sure if he ever truly found that nighttime gaze frightening, instead of mesmerizing. He knows it doesn’t frighten him now. How could it, when Keith’s looking at him with so much love? What could Lance have done to ever deserve it?

“Lance?”

Lance jolts from his thoughts. “Keith?”

“I love you.”

“Aw-w, Ke-ith.” Lance grins, presses their foreheads together just to hear him purr. “I love you too. To Daibazaal and back. Literally.”

“Literally.” Keith presses a smiling kiss to his lips. "Thank you, Lance. I- I feel better now."

"I'm glad. Tell me when you decide?"

"I'll tell you when I ready."

"Good." Lance beams down at his spouse, even as their cloaks slip away. As their lips meet again, Keith rises onto his knees, threads dark purple fingers into silver-white hair, the very tips of his claws scratching at Lance’s scalp. His own hands find Keith’s cheeks, cradling him close. Lance can’t help but giggle at the feel of Keith’s thin, raspy tongue, the way it feels against his. It’s just so different from his own, smooth tongue.

Sighing, Lance seeks out more, chasing after Keith’s taste. It’s delicious, intoxicating, the most he’s had after months of sudden nothing. So when Keith draws away, he follows a little before he remembers.

“Sorry,” Keith murmurs, hands trembling in Lance’s hair as he presses their brows together again. “I’m sorry.”

“Never,” he whispers, thumb grazing Keith’s cheek. “Come on. We should get some rest. It’s super late.”

“Yeah. Especially since we��re training with the Blades tomorrow.”

“Ooh, I wonder if Adam will do some training with me. It’s been ages.” Because he’s feeling generous, Lance scoops Keith up into his arms. He only gets a glare and an elbow for his trouble. It’s just as good. Or at least amusing.

“Adam can fight? I just assumed he nags his enemies to death.”

“Oh, yes. He uses a double-ended polearm. He has multiple different ones, with different heads on either end.”

“He would have that- Can you please put me down now? I’m not a baby!”

“I’m trying to be romantic!” Lance sets his spouse down, tugging on the end of his braid so Keith knows he’s playing, not upset.

“You can be romantic by letting me walk and then cuddling me for the rest of the night. How’s that?”

“...Sounds really nice, actually.”

“Then let’s go.”

Settled down for the night, Lance rubs the base of Keith’s ear. It’s not something he really needs anymore, but it seems to make him happy, and definitely makes him smile, so why not? The way Keith purrs, tucks his head firmly under Lance’s chin as he twists his tail back around his ankle just seals the deal.

Nothing will ever top this.

“Goodnight, Lance.”

“Goodnight Keith.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Malex prompt: Liz calls Michael and asks him to check on Alex for her when he leaves her house the morning after having spent the night there and having had a PTSD episode in the night.

Thank you for this prompt, I hope you like where I went with it!

I Need Your Grace

cross posted to AO3

“Michael? Oh thank god, I was afraid I wouldn’t reach you.” Liz sounds frantic so Michael is immediately on alert.

“What is it, are you okay? Is Max okay?” Michael asked, worried what the note of panic in her voice might mean for all of them. In Roswell there was no telling.

“No, no, we’re fine, it’s Alex.” Liz says and that’s somehow much worse.

“What about Alex?” Michael demands.

“I was going to say he’s okay for the most part, but he just left here and I think you should go check on him. He came over last night and his PTSD was so bad he couldn’t sleep. He hasn’t been sleeping the last few nights, but he couldn’t stand to be alone any longer. I’m really worried about him, he doesn’t think he needs any help. Will you go look in on him?” Liz is so sincere in her concern that Michael’s initial doubt about seeing Alex is overturned.

They haven’t seen each other since Michael stood him up and Maria said he wasn’t even on speaking terms with her, so this isn’t going to be easy, but then nothing with Alex ever has been. Though he and Maria never got around to starting anything, that one kiss was enough to derail anything with Alex.

“Yes, I’ll go check on him.” Michael tells her.

Twenty minutes later, driving out to Alex’s cabin with two coffees and some donuts and Michael isn’t sure this is the right move. What if Alex won’t see him? This will be for nothing. Worse than that it’ll probably make Alex’s day that much worse and that’s the last thing Michael wants.

But he’d promised Liz he would do this and if Alex is in trouble then there’s nowhere else for Michael. He has to go to Alex, just to see that he’s okay. That he’s made it home, that he doesn’t have any immediate needs.

He pulls up outside of the cabin and cuts the truck engine. It’s quiet but there’s Alex’s car. At least there’s that. He’s home. Michael climbs out, grabs the coffee and donuts offering, and heads to the door. It’s bright out already, but it’s still early. What if Alex had come home and crashed? Michael didn’t want to wake him up.

Michael doesn’t have to worry about that for long, though, because before he can even knock, Alex opens the door.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, and he sounds so angry that Michael flinches. He also realizes he has no cover story for why he’s here so it’s going to have to be the truth.

“Liz was worried, she thought maybe someone should look in on you.” He says plainly, though it sounds awful now that he’s saying it, like Alex can’t take care of himself which is so far from the truth.

“Liz was worried? Someone should look in on me? Why are you here?” Alex is upset. That makes sense considering, well everything.

“Liz asked me to come, and I came because I’m worried. She said you’re not sleeping? That last night was really bad. And I was worried.” He holds up the donuts for Alex to see. “I come in peace.” He tries a teasing tone to diffuse the tension between them and it must work s little bit because Alex holds the door open just wide enough for Michael to enter. Though he doesn’t look happy about it.

Michael enters the cabin with trepidation; he’s not exactly welcome here. Even so he goes straight to the coffee table and begins laying everything out. The cabin is small though compared to the Airstream it’s like a mansion. Still it’s tidy and cozy and Michael feels he’s been given something special being allowed in.

“Liz shouldn’t have bothered you, I’m fine.” Alex says as he shuts the door. “She shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“I’m not bothered. I need breakfast too, besides I think maybe we should talk, though I’m not sure now’s the time.” Michael finds a spot on the couch and sits.

Alex takes the chair and reaches for one of the coffees. “Is there ever going to be a good time for that? You told me to come back and then you never showed.” He takes the lid off his coffee and blows on it. His voice is neutral but the words sting Michael all the same. “You kissed Maria.” It feels like an accusation because it is.

“I did, and that was a mistake. I thought…” Michael picks up his own coffee but he doesn’t drink it, he just needs something to do with his hands. “For a second I thought maybe it would make more sense to stop trying to salvage something between us and just let it all go.”

“So why didn’t you go through with it? Maria only said it wasn’t right. We haven’t talked since.” Alex tells him., then he sips his coffee and reaches for a donut. He’s far too casual for this conversation, Michael thinks. He looks too calm. Like it doesn’t carry the same weight for him as it does for Michael.

“Because I’m in love with someone else.” Michael says. It hurts to say it like this, just now, while Alex bites into his donut.

“Someone else, huh?” Alex laughs humorlessly.

“You, then. Because I’m in love with you and I can’t let that go. Not yet. Not if you feel the same way. I know I was an asshole, but dammit Alex, I think we should try. Something, anything. Don’t you think we owe to ourselves to at least try?” Michael abandons his coffee and leans forward, waiting.

Alex doesn’t say anything at first and it takes a minute, but Michael soon realizes it’s because he’s tearing up. “If you really thought that then where have you been the last two weeks? You left me waiting and then what? You never came by, you never called, what am I supposed to get from that?”

“Alex, I… look Caulfield really messed me up and there was that whole thing with Noah and then, then.. I just didn’t know what to say, it felt too late. I’d already screwed up and I didn’t know how to start undoing what I’d done.” Michael swallows hard, runs a hand through his hair. He’s fucking this up too because he was supposed to be here making sure Alex was okay, not begging him to take him back.

“You can’t undo what you’ve done, don’t you see that?” Alex’s voice wobbles and one tear rolls down his cheek. He wipes it away with the back of his hand.

“You’re right, I can’t undo it, but maybe we can move forward. Maybe it’s time to let go of the past. All of it, and move forward. Together.” Michael is begging, he knows it, but he can’t help it. This feels like his one shot at a future with Alex. “Please, Alex, could you ever forgive me?”

Alex sets his cup aside and licks his lips, pressing them together as though afraid of what he might say. The look on his face is terrifying, everything seems to hang on his next words and it’s a lot to take. Michael is scared he’s going to say no and Michael will have to live with it because that’s what he deserves.

“I want to, Michael, I do.” Alex’s voice is quiet. “How can we trust each other now?”

“We take it slow, get to know each other again, build our trust from scratch.” Michael suggests.

“And if I don’t want to take it slow?” Alex asks, surprising Michael.

“Yeah?” Michael slides forward in his seat, itching to touch Alex, to show him how serious he takes all of this.

“Yeah.” Alex says. “Let’s try it, I want to. I want you, Michael.”

“I want you too.” Michael says softly, then he slips off the sofa, walks until he’s in front of Alex, and drops to his knees before him.

Their lips crash together, hungry, needing even more than they can feasibly give. Michael lets Alex lead the way, follows him willingly as Alex’s tongue slips along his lower lip and then into his mouth. Michael sighs into it, it’s so good, he’s needed this, needed Alex so bad. Why had he ever thought he could live without this?

Alex breaks away to breathe and to strip out of his shirt and Michael follows suit, undoing his buttons so fast he’s afraid he might snap them off. It doesn’t matter though, not with Alex right there, waiting for him. Alex is already on his belt and that’s something Michael can really get on board with. He decides to help, sliding Alex’s belt out of the loops and tossing it aside before starting in on Alex’s jeans. Once he gets the fly open he helps Alex pull them down, along with his briefs but just to his thighs, just enough to give Michael the access he needs.

He leans down, but looks up at Alex who just nods and swallows hard. Then he takes Alex into his mouth, swallows the length of him down and Alex finishes getting hard on his tongue. It feels right, feels good to be on his knees for Alex like this. He sucks gently, bobbing his head as Alex moans above him. He sounds just as good as he feels.

Michael uses his tongue to swirl around the head of Alex’s cock, to tease, to tempt, and Alex sinks his fingers into his hair. He grips hard so Michael teases less and sucks more. He uses one hand to hold the base and the other just holds on for life because he needs to be anchored between Alex’s fingers and the floor.

It’s not long before Alex’s hips are coming up off the chair in little stuttering motions that have no real rhythm. He’s chanting softly, “Michael, Michael, oh, oh…”

So Michael speeds up, uses his hand to meet his mouth every time he dips down again. Alex’s fingers are pulling now and that’s good too. He sucks hard and twists his hand and Alex is coming down his throat. Michael swallows and swallows until there’s nothing left and Alex is shivering so he backs off and looks up at Alex.

“That was…” Alex starts.

“Unexpected, great? Brilliant even?” Michael asks, his voice gruff from the abuse his throat has just taken.

“All of the above.” Alex answers with a laugh. He hauls Michael toward him and kisses him deeply. “Take me to bed, I’m exhausted.”

“Yes, sir, Captain sir!” Michael teases. Alex shakes his head but begins doing up his pants. Michael helps him to his feet and then Alex takes him by the hand leading him to the bedroom.

Together they climb into bed and even though Michael intends to say things, important things, they both fall asleep in each other arms. Michael doesn’t even dream, it’s just like resting in a cloud of warmth and peace.

When they wake again the sun is high in the sky outside Alex’s window. Alex stretches and smiles over at Michael. He loves seeing that smile. He’d do anything to keep Alex looking like that.

“You look rested.” Michael observes.

“I feel rested, which is pretty amazing considering I haven’t slept in days.” Alex tells him., then he huffs a quiet laugh. “I think I sleep better with you next to me.”

Michael thinks about that for a minute, his heart expanding in his chest with all of the affection he has for this man. “I would happily sleep by you every night, you have to know that, but I think it’s time we talk about you getting some help.” Michael hopes that isn’t too forward of him, but he’s worried about Alex and he knows he can’t really fix what’s wrong.

Alex is quiet so long that Michael’s sure he’s offended him, but then he speaks, his voice quiet. “They offered me therapy when I first got back, but I refused to go. It just seemed like a cop out. I don’t want to be weak like that.”

“It isn’t weakness, Alex.” Michael tries to assure him.

“Okay, maybe not,” Alex agrees, “but I’m not the type of person that wants to need help, with anything.”

“I know you’re not, but you yourself said you weren’t sleeping. You had to spend the night with Liz because things had gotten so bad.” Michael reminded him gently. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, but I really think you should consider it now. Please. We’re all worried.”

“Alright.” Alex concedes. “I’ll think about it.

Michael levels a look at him until he smiles again. “Fine, I’ll seriously consider it.”

“Thank you.” Michael says as he leans over for a kiss.

“I love you, Alex.”

“I love you too.” Alex whispers.

Hours later when they finally get out of bed long enough to order Chinese food for pick up Michael takes a moment to just watch Alex. He’s amazing. Everything he’s been through, then to come home to aliens and government cover ups. He’s incredibly strong and Michael is determined he knows just how strong and amazing he really is.

Priorities (5)

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have a long talk with your husband.

Warnings: if you don’t like reading about Deep Conversations™, this chapter probably isn’t for you. Language, implied nausea.

Word Count: 2.8k

Notes: It’s finally here - the chapter that everyone has been waiting for :D

An alternative summary for this chapter would’ve been ‘Bucky gets his head out of his ass’. Written for @buckyofthemyscira​’s 5k Disney Writing Challenge. 

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | Tags are open, add yourself here

Bucky is nervous.

Scratch that, he’s beyond nervous.

Even his nerves are nervous, goddammit.

(Shuri would say that he’s highkey terrified.)

Bucky legitimately thinks that he’s about to shit his pants, and isn’t that just a pleasant thought?

The last time his palms were this sweaty, he’d been pacing the floor of his mouldy dorm room, anxiously waiting to propose to you. The last time his heart was pounding this hard, he’d been seconds away from giving his first presentation to the SI board of directors. The last time his throat had been this dry, he’d been standing under a canopy of flowers, preparing himself to recite his vows to you.

Bucky can hardly hear anything beyond the roar of his pulse in his ears, and that bagel he’d had for breakfast is slowly working its way up his throat.

So yeah. He’s nervous as fuck.

You haven’t said anything since you stumbled across him, so Bucky clears his throat and lets the words pour out of his mouth.

“Look, honey, I’m sorry. I’ve — well, heh. I’ve been a pretty fucking shit husband lately, and I’m so, so sorry,” he says sincerely, “I can’t say that enough. If you’d like to...I mean...do you wanna talk?”

You blink owlishly. “Now?” you ask.

“Uh...yeah?” he says slowly. “Or...is now not a good time?”

You narrow your eyes in suspicion. “Well, I don’t know, is it a good time for you, James? You’re always going on about a certain project you’re working on, and how you’re so busy with it.”

Bucky grimaces. Yeah, he probably deserved that. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I, um — I asked Shuri and Sam to man the fort for a bit. We’ve got time.”

You purse your lips. “How did you know where to find me?”

Bucky blushes, ducking his head shyly. “Um, Steve showed me one of your blogposts—”

“He what?” you squawk. “He reads my—my blog?”

“Well, he kinda stumbled across it when—actually nevermind,” Bucky says, breaking off with an awkward cough. “I uh...yeah, so he showed me, and I read some of them, and you mentioned in one that you were staying in your friend W’s house and….well. You’ve only got one friend whose name starts with a ‘W’, so...yeah.”

You huff dryly. Bucky stuffs his hands into his pockets and stares down at his shoes whilst he anxiously waits for your response.

“Alright,” you sigh, “Yeah, okay. Come inside.”

—

Though you knew that you’d need to talk to Bucky eventually, you’d been hoping to have at least another day to gather your thoughts. Sure, you have a rough idea of what you want to say, but you were hoping to spend the rest of the afternoon gathering your thoughts and hashing out a rough script.

Then again, Pepper did say that if Bucky wanted to sit down and talk to you, you’d be stupid not to seize the opportunity that you’d been presented with.

(Okay, perhaps those weren’t her exact words, but she’d said something to the same extent.)

Wanda’s house is empty, as she and Vis have gone out for the afternoon. You’d spent most of the morning with her and Natasha, lounging on the couch and binging your favourite TV show on Netflix. The three of you had gone your separate ways in the afternoon, after you’d told the girls about your unexpected message from Pepper.

As you bring your husband to the guest bedroom, you can’t help but feel a little bit nervous. Your skin is tingling with anticipation and your heart is thumping against your ribs. On the one hand, you’re glad that Bucky has — seemingly — come to his senses and reached out to you. On the other hand, you’ve got no idea how the next hour or so will pan out.

Will you two still be a married couple by the end of the afternoon?

Only time will tell.

You shoulder open the bedroom door and gracefully plop yourself at the foot of the bed, crossing your legs at the knee.

“Take a seat,” you tell Bucky, gesturing towards the armchair in the corner of the room.

You watch as he shrugs off his black suit jacket, carefully draping it over the armrest before he takes a seat. Now that you’re able to look at him properly, you realise just how much last night seems to have taken its toll on Bucky.

There are dark purple bags under his eyes, and the coating of stubble on his jaw indicates that he hadn’t bothered to shave this morning, which is completely unlike him. Besides that, he hasn’t taken the effort to style his hair like he usually does, and his white button-down and black slacks look crumpled, and a little worse-for-wear.”

“You look like shit,” you tell him.

Bucky’s eyes widen in surprise, before he bursts out into hysterical laughter, burying his face in his hands as his shoulders quake uncontrollably.

You’re taken aback, but choose to bite your tongue and wait out his laughing fit.

“Oh, jeez,” Bucky sighs, as he sits back and scrubs his eyes wearily. “Would you believe that you’re the third person to say to me, today?”

You shrug, biting your lip to keep your expression neutral. “It’s the truth,” you say airily.

“Yeah, well. I guess,” he sighs, before clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. “So, uh...any idea how you wanna do this? Is it okay if I say something first?”

You nod and motion for him to go ahead.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, as he clasps his hands in his lap; a sure sign of his nerves. “Okay, well, um, first and foremost — I want you to know that I love you. And that I never, ever stopped loving you, and I’m sorry if I ever made you think that way.”

He pauses, and rakes his fingers through his hair. “I guess I haven’t been doing a good enough job at being your husband, so I promise you, I’m gonna try harder, do better.”

You school your features into a neutral expression, not wanting to give away any of your thoughts. Whilst it’s nice to know that Bucky has recognised — at least some — of his faults, you don’t want to hear promises from him. You want to know how he’s actually going to fulfil the promises that he’s making.

“I think that we haven’t been communicating with each other a lot, recently,” you say slowly. “There’re things on my mind that I haven’t shared with you, and...I don’t think we’re on the same page anymore.”

“I agree.”

“So...maybe the best thing to do is to clear the air, lay out all our cards and just...take it from there, yeah?”

Bucky nods in agreement. “Great plan. So, um — yeah, like I said before, I’ve read your blogposts, and I think that I know what’s been troubling you—”

“And right there’s the problem,” you interrupt, holding up a hand to silence him. Bucky’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click.

“See, you think you know what’s bothering me, but you don’t know, not really. You can’t make assumptions like that, Buck, you gotta talk to me. And — okay, yeah, I know I’ve got my issues too, but the point is, you can’t assume that you everything — that’s kinda the crux of the issue, really.”

Bucky sits back and considers you for a moment. “Okay, I — you’re right. Yeah. Yeah, okay, I see what you’re saying,” he mumbles, as he rubs his jaw thoughtfully. “Please — talk. Enlighten me, honey.”

You sigh, idly picking at the patterned bed sheet before continuing. “Y’know, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I think that my problems can be summarised into a few points.”

“Firstly, and most importantly — I miss you,” you say simply. “I miss spending time with you. You’re never home anymore, and I...I need to see you, to have quality time with you. I wanna go on walks and visit museums and do all the stuff that we used to do. I feel like I’m not getting any of your attention anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, fingers twitching like he’s itching to reach out and hold your hand.

You smile at him briefly before barreling on. “Don’t get me wrong — I get it, you’re stressing over this project, and I know that you’re doing all this because you want us to be in a financially secure position, but honey? I don’t care.”

That seems to shock him. Bucky’s eyes widen minutely, and his mouth twists in confusion.

“I’m serious,” you tell him. “Honey, we could be living in a crusty apartment in the shadiest part of town and I wouldn’t fucking care, as long as I had you — yeah, okay, that’s cheesy as hell, but it’s the truth.”

You pause, biting your bottom lip shyly. “When I met you, we were both broke-ass college kids. D’you remember how we had to look under the car seats to get enough money to pay for gas that one time?”

Bucky huffs out a wry laugh. “Yeah, I remember,” he murmurs.

“We were both in a shit-ton of student debt, we barely had enough money to pay the rent, we were living off instant noodles — it wasn’t the easiest of times. But, the thing is, I loved you then, I love you now, and I’ll love you through thick and thin, Bucky I swear. I just — I don’t wanna make you choose between your work and your wife, but...we need to find a way for you to have both.”

“Okay, honey, I—”

“Hold up, hold up,” you say, “I got one more thing and then you can talk.”

“Shoot.”

You steel yourself internally before continuing. “Kids.”

Bucky’s brows pull together in confusion. “What about ‘em?”

You swallow nervously. “Well, I want to have them with you, someday, but I want to raise them with you.”

“Is this about what you wrote in that blogpost?”

You nod, relief flooding through your system when you realise that he knows what you’re talking about. “Yeah. Like, I don’t want us to be that couple, where mom’s doing all the child-raising, and dad’s just...there, as this abstract father figure in their lives. I want our kids to have a dad, to hang out with their dad, to know their dad, you get me?”

—

Bucky nods slowly as he turns your words over in his head.

What you’ve described is something he can empathise with. Growing up, sure, he’d maintained a good relationship with his father, but it had always been clear to him that his mom was in charge of looking after Bucky and his sisters. His dad hadn’t been a bad dad, per se, but he hadn’t been there for any of the big, personal moments in Buck’s life, like his first girlfriend and stuff like that.

Bucky wants to do better.

“I hear you, sweetheart, and you’re right — I have been putting my work before you, more than I should be.”

He sighs, slumping further into the chair. Bucky takes the opportunity to look at you, properly look at you, the way he hasn’t done in who-knows how long.

God, how are you so always pretty? You’re dressed in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt with a grey hoodie on top, yet you still manage to look as beautiful as the day he first met you.

Bucky clears his throat. “I guess...I dunno.  I feel so responsible for my work, and my team and — but I ‘spose I just gotta learn to say no and push some things off my plate, huh?”

Your lips quirk into a half-smile. “There’s this thing, it’s called ‘delegating jobs’ — it’s really useful. You should try it out some time,” you say, winking mischievously.

Bucky throws his head back and laughs. “I will, sweetie, I will,” he says agreeably. “But yeah, I guess I gotta stop worrying so much about the future and just...live more in the now.”

You hum thoughtfully. “I think it’d be a good idea for you and me both to get into the habit of separating work and personal life. I mean, it’s a bit harder for me, ‘cause I actually work from home, and all, but...basically, when you’re working you’re working, and when you’re at home, you switch off.”

Bucky’s brows furrow together as he processes your words. “So like...are you saying that I should have two ‘modes’?” he asks, air-quotes and all. “Work-Bucky and home-Bucky?”

“Yep,” you say, easily rolling with the engineering analogy he’s thrown at you. “So, when you’re at work, you engage work-Bucky, you’re getting shit done, you’re productive and efficient and whatever. But, when you’re at home, you switch off from all that. You unplug, you chill out, you spend time with your family...you take a break.”

“I like that idea, I really do,” Bucky says slowly, “Actually, Sam’s been saying that I should have a better work-life balance—”

“You should really listen to what Sam says.”

He snorts. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that,” he says, mock-threateningly. “But seriously, I think I need to be better at sticking to regular office hours and...yeah. When I’m with you, I’m not working, and when I’m at work, I’m...well, working.”

You nod fervently. “Yes! I mean, we can obviously talk about our work when we’re talking about our days, just — there’s a difference between talking about work and actually doing work, y’know? And obviously, there’ll be times when you or I need to pull some overtime to meet a deadline or something, and that’s cool too, just—”

“Avoid it wherever possible?”

You smile brightly. “Exactly.”

—

You feel as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. This talk has been everything you’d hoped for and more.

Why on earth didn’t you do this sooner?

You watch as Bucky gets up from his chair and comes over to sit beside you on the bed. He knocks his shoulder against yours gently. “Are we okay?” he asks hesitantly.

You lean into his side and rest your head on his shoulder, humming quietly. “We’re gonna be okay.”

Bucky tentatively takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. You give him an affectionate, reassuring squeeze.

“I’m gonna have a good talk with my team,” he promises, “We’re gonna evaluate the situation, maybe consider taking on more people — we’re gonna sort this shit out. I’m gonna try my damn hardest to be a better husband, honey, ‘cause you deserve one.”

You turn to look at him, into those steely-grey eyes that have become your safe place in the years that you’ve known him.

“I love you,” you breathe, the corners of your lips twitching into a smile.

An exultant grin spreads over his lips. “I love you too,” he murmurs, as he bends down to press his lips to yours.

It’s a languid and luxurious kiss, both of you content to just feel your lips brushing together in the lightest of touches; neither of you are in a hurry to take things further.

You’ve missed this intimacy and closeness, being able to breathe in the familiar scent of Bucky’s cologne and underneath that, his sweat and musk. He pulls you closer, one hand wrapped around your waist, the fingers of his other hand curling around your neck. The position is a little awkward, and at one point, you accidentally elbow him in the ribs, but your heart is soaring and nothing could make this moment more incredible.

When you break away, you rest your forehead against the crook of his neck and sigh contentedly, happy that the worries that have been plaguing you for the last few weeks have finally been resolved.

“D’you need to go back to work?” you ask.

You feel, rather than see him shaking his head. “I took the rest of the day off,” Bucky tells you. “C’mon. Let’s finally go on that date that I’ve been promising you, eh?”

Pokeshipping Week 2018

Day 6: Returning to the River Where They Met (from the optional batch of themes)

Takes place between episode #42 and #43 of SM. A kind of "what if" scenario.

I may also do a fic for "Role Reversal" but if I do it's probably going to be a day or two late :v

***

Ash breathes in contently as he gazes at the long stretch of stars nestled in dark blue. They're a bit brighter here, unpolluted by the artificial glow that drowns them out in larger cities. The air at home is crisper, too, not at all like the humidity that wraps his skin like a damp cloth back in Alola.

Right now, Ash feels very much awake, and it's not simply due to jet lag, though that is a huge part of it.

As he sits outside on his mother's porch, the day's events play out in his mind over and over again, already being filed under his ever-growing pile of treasured memories.

Kiawe on Charizard racing a Rapidash. His mother's unrivaled cooking and the Oak cousins' groan-worthy puns. Lana fangirling over Misty. Even Team Rocket's unwarranted interruption brings a smile to his face. Just like old times. Ash wouldn't change anything about today.

There's just something that's been bothering him. He can't quite name it, he only knows it happens whenever Misty is near him. Like an itch inside his chest that's impossible to scratch.

His heart jumps when he hears the back door creak open, expecting his mother to scold him any second for being up so late.

"Can't sleep either, huh?"

Not his mom. Misty.

His heart jumps regardless.

Her hair is down and she's in pajamas and Ash hates that the first thought that springs to mind is "cute."

She makes him scoot over to make room for her on the porch steps, and he scoots a little bit further when her sleeve brushes against his.

"So, ready to lose against me tomorrow?"

Ash snorts. "You wish. I'm a lot stronger than I was before we parted ways, you know. Like, really strong. And smarter."

He realizes too late that saying he's smarter makes him sound anything but.

Misty makes a noise through her nose. "Well, at least you haven't gotten dumber. You're still scrawny, though."

"Hey!"

Misty laughs, and despite that it's at his expense, Ash really likes hearing it.

A short period of silence passes between them, and though he wouldn't call it entirely awkward, Ash feels like there's something suspended between them that one of them needs to reach out for and tether to the ground.

"So, how come you're up this late?"

Misty's profile looks contemplative as she gazes at the sky. "Lately I haven't been sleeping much. I think it's the pressure of running a gym practically all by myself. You'd think that wear me out but it's been keeping me up. I slept better on the dirt when we were traveling together than I do in my own bed."

Ash remembers those days. He no longer has to sleep in a sleeping bag either, and he definitely doesn't miss the feel of the ground pressing roughly against his back nor the bug bites that made welts on his skin. But he does miss the sight of the open skies. He misses the whispers of air through the trees and the late-night conversations with his friends, most of those conversations between him and Misty.

Sometimes, when it was just the two of them, it would feel similar to how it feels now, the space between them filled with unvoiced, confused thoughts and feelings that remain unidentified.

"To help me sleep, know what I do?" Misty asks, cutting through his thoughts.

"What?"

"Go for a swim."

***

His feet are balanced on either side of Misty's bike as she pedals them miles away from his house to a place he hasn't seen in what feels like forever ago.

The sound of water falling and crashing on to heavy rocks fills his ears and soon enough he sees the river where they first met.

More accurately, it's the river he nearly drowned in and where Misty quite literally fished him out of, and despite that morbid backstory Ash still feels a sort of weird, nostalgic fondness as he nears the current.

Had he not jumped into this river he and Pikachu might have died, anyway. Torn to shreds by angry Spearow.

Sometimes he wonders if he didn't actually die that day and his corpse is currently entombed in those waters, if everything he's experienced since then have been dreams or the afterlife or his spirit carrying on the adventures he was meant to have in life.

He has had a pretty intense and somewhat surreal life, and it's sometimes hard to believe that some of the crazy things he's been through actually happened.

Whether he's dead or alive doesn't matter right now because the red-hot alarm surging through his body as he catches Misty unbuttoning the top part of her pajamas feels very, very real.

"Wait a minute! Hold on." He already has his eyes covered with his hand as he spins around to avoid seeing the rest.

"You're- you're being ridiculous," Misty yells, but doesn't protest his modesty any further as she presumably finishes stripping down to her bathing suit.

He knows that she has a tendency to fly out of her regular clothes and dive into the nearest body of water in her bikini whenever the mood strikes her. In fact, he knows she did so earlier with Lana because they told him about their swimming adventure right after they met up again.

But this... This is different. They're alone, in the middle of nowhere, during the dead at night, and nobody knows they're here.

It's a situation that his mother would call inappropriate, and it's got his nerves alert and on edge.

He hears a wet splash and a satisfied exhale, and then he hears her say, "Okay. You can look now."

From the shoulders down Misty is submerged in dark, silver liquid, looking up at him expectantly from below her dripping bangs.

Ash swallows. "Ummm..."

"Oh. Right." She gives him the courtesy of covering her eyes as he strips down to his boxers. The air has more of a bite to it out here, but before Ash can have any more second thoughts, he lets out a battle cry and cannonballs into the water.

His early anxiety seems to wash away with the steady current, and soon his muscles ease and relax into the cool water.

"So. You really caught the Gyrados that was in here?"

The same Gyrados that he saw when he dove to escape a flock of riled Spearow.

"Yep. I've caught a good number of high-level Pokémon here."

"Impressive," he admits. Before he allows his compliment to settle into her brain and further inflate her ego, he splashes her with water and yells, "Race you over to that rock!"

Even though he cheats with a head start and has improved as a swimmer, Misty still beats him to it.

She's already waiting for him on the large rock jutting out from the surface of the water, a triumphant smirk on her lips.

"Just the first taste of the defeat you'll feel tomorrow."

He means to retort with something as equally snarky, but he's short on breath and his pulse is beating rapidly, not showing any signs of slowing as he looks up at Misty.

The moonlight frames her with a soft, white glow and the beads of water on her skin seem to shimmer where the light hits them. His eyes chase a rivulet down its trajectory from her cheek to her chin before it falls and coalesces with the river.

He's captivated, and doesn't realize it until it's too late. She's noticed.

"Um, we should get back," he says, trying to keep his voice from croaking.

"Right," she agrees, coming down from the rock to follow him back to land.

As they swim wordlessly back towards where they've left their pajamas like candy discarded wrappers, Ash remembers something important he's been meaning to say to her since they returned to this river.

"Hey, Mist," he begins, pausing from emerging from the water to look her in the eyes. "I never actually said thank you for saving mine and Pikachu's lives. So, uh, thank you. A lot." Smooth.

Her smile is soft, with a hint of amusement in it that makes Ash's pulse stutter once again.

"You're welcome. But you know," she continues, her lips pulling wider from a smile to a grin. He inhales sharply as Misty draws closer, so close he can see a tinge of red drowning out the light freckles across her nose. "A more proper way to thank me is with a kiss."

Ash might as well be drowning right because he's completely robbed of air and in borderline panic as Misty parts her lips and inches ever closer to him.

He shuts his eyes, expecting to feel a press against his lips any moment now. Instead, he feels a light tap on his forehead.

"Just kidding," she says, sending his soul careening back into his body.

Misty may have saved his skin back then but just now she nearly claimed his life.

Double the Trouble Chapter 13 – Mirrors

Rating: Explicit (lots of smut. so much smut)

Ship: FemShep x Femshep Clone, Femshep x Kaidan, Femshep x Femshep Clone x Kaidan, OT3

AO3 Link: Here

Summary:  Jane faces old demons, and dares to explore new love.

Note: Whoop. This update is months late. Guess I got a little behind. Good news is that the epilogue is nearly finished, and likely on schedule.

The Alliance detention center lies outside of town, in the mountains, untouched by the Reaper’s destruction. Instead of taking a skycar, Kaidan has Jane and Shepard escorted by shuttle. While they murmur in the corner, Jane stares at the floor, trying to parse out what she’ll say to the woman who brought her to life--what she’ll say to the woman who left her to die.

Alliance soldiers salute them when they land, and Shepard returns their salutes, despite not wearing her uniform.

“At ease,” Kaidan says, though the guards are too busy staring at Shepard to notice. Jane’s okay with it--she doesn’t want to be noticed right now.

The guards lead them inside and start to scan them before Kaidan stops them. “Spectre business.”

When the guards look at each other, Shepard snorts. “Really? Do I need to show you my burnt left side to prove it to you?”

The guard on her left blanches. “That won’t be necessary, Commander.” He waves all three of them through. Another guard leads them to an interrogation chamber, and Kaidan opens the door to the viewing room.

Shepard glances back at Jane. “You sure about this?”

Jane pushes grabs the handle of the interrogation room, pushing it open.

The door clicks shut behind her, and it locks. Rasa looks up at the Clone finally, and she smirks. Something sharp and cold settles in the Clone’s stomach and her skin bristles. She wants to shake it off, but she can’t. She can’t give Rasa that satisfaction either, so she balls her fists behind her back.

“The prodigal returns.” Rasa’s eyes glimmer under the harsh light.

“I didn’t leave. You did. Why?”

Rasa rolls her eyes. “Because you failed. You were a mistake.”

The Clone breathes in sharply, trying to still her shaking. “You made a mistake. I’m not the mistake.”

Leaning forward, Rasa clicks her tongue before she whispers, “she’s standing right behind that two-way mirror, isn’t she? The real Shepard?”

“Does it matter?”

“Don’t tell me you’re content as Shepard’s pet.” Before Jane can protest, Rasa continues. “Don’t bother lying. I have ears everywhere.”

Jane Doe sits back as she realizes it. Honestly, she’s surprised it never occurred to her before. “There’s no substance to you, is there? Just smoke and mirrors.”

“You’re nothing but organic tissue.” Rasa frowns, and so Jane Doe pushes forward.

“You couldn’t feel real emotion even if you wanted. And you have been trying to feel something, anything, haven’t you.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re the fake. I’m the one who’s real. Have fun spending the rest of your life alone, in a cell.” Jane Doe pushes her chair back and stands up, ignoring Rasa’s protests as they increase in volume. They soften as the door shuts behind her.

Kaidan and Jane step out of the control room, concern written all over their faces. Shepard rushes forward, pulling her into a hug. “You okay?”

Jane hugs back woodenly. “Yeah, why?” She asks quietly.

Kaidan pats her shoulder gently, at arm's length. “You’re crying.”

Why is she crying? Rasa is a monster. And she’ll be better off without her. Then why does she feel like part of her just died? Jane pulls Shepard closer, breathing in her scent. She always smelled different--not better or worse, just different.

“She’s awful, isn’t she?”

Jane nods, hiding her tears in Shepard’s hoodie. Kaidan finally removes his hand, only to hug her from behind. “Okay?” She nods again, basking and drowning in them at the same time.

Time slips away as they shuttle back to Kaidan’s apartment. Jane stares at the wall of the shuttle in front of her, exhausted and numb. So many times, she imagined and rehearsed that conversation with Maya, with every possible outcome she could think of. To have it in her past instead of looming in her future? It feels like a dream.

Jane follows Shepard and Kaidan inside their home, wondering if this is what Maya feels like all the time. Shouldn’t she feel happy to see the end of their relationship? She hates Maya more than anything. Maya is a monster. Maya used her. Maya accused Dreya of horrible things because she was a distraction. Yet Jane still feels like part of her has died.

“Hungry?” Kaidan pops open a couple of beers, passing them around. He hands her one, and Jane realizes it’s the same variety of stout she had the first time they--did it count as a threesome if Kaidan wasn’t--?

Oh.

It’s then Jane realizes she hasn’t hardly spoken a word to Kaidan all day. She hasn’t talked to him about the night she broke his heart.

“Jane?”

She blinks, meeting Kaidan’s expectant gaze. “Huh?”

“I’m thinking about cooking up some steak. Want some?”

“...Sure.” She isn’t really that hungry.

“He makes a mean steak,” Shepard drawls as she takes a pull of her beer, “when he doesn’t burn it.”

Kaidan shoots back. “I don’t remember you complaining about dessert.”

Shepard blushes. “Mm. Yeah. It was pretty good dessert.”

“On second thought. Never mind. I think I’m about to throw up.” All three of them laugh.

Clearing her throat, Shepard mutters something about needing a shower, and then Jane and Kaidan are alone. They watch each other from across the room, studying each other’s faces, searching for clues and signs. Instead they find mirrors of their own nervousness.

Jane approaches him like she’s walking into a minefield. Kaidan isn’t Rasa. She must remember that. But her own mind won’t believe her. Swallowing she leans against the counter next to him, Jane tries to think of a good way to apologize? Take back what she said? Swear her feelings have changed? Instead she says, “So how do you cook a steak, anyway?”

Kaidan eyes her up and down, squinting as if that’ll help him read her better. He offers her a hand. “I can show you, if you’d like.”

She allows herself a small smile. “Alright.” Jane takes his hand.

Spinning her around, Kaidan pins her front-first against the stove, so that the aroma of cooking beef fills her nostrils. Suddenly Jane’s starving. Maybe not for steak. Kaidan feels so warm against her back as he takes her hand again, reaching for some sage. “First step is to season the meat correctly,” he murmurs against her ear. His breath vibrates against her amp and she sucks in a breath. A sizzle pops in the air, and it could be the steak cooking...or it could be their biotics interacting.

“Mmhm,” Jane says, trying to pay attention to his cooking lesson, but the feel of his free hand on her hip has her heart racing.

“Don’t add too much at once.” He set the sage bottle down with her hand and picks up the salt and pepper adding them to the steak. “Don’t heat things up too quickly, unless you want to sear the meat.” His stubble scratches her ear. Kaidan clears his throat. “Now, Jane, how do you like your steak?”

A shiver goes down her back as Kaidan steps to her side. “Mm?”

Kaidan grins slowly, tracing her bottom lip with his fingertips. “Do you like it raw or well done?”

“Raw? Isn’t that a bad idea?”

“Uh…” Kaidan reddens like the meat cooking next to them. “Did I say raw? I meant rare.” He backs off slightly, fumbling for his composure. Admittedly, Kaidan’s rather cute when he’s flustered.

Jane seizes her chance, turning on her heel and closing the distance between them. She plays with the top button on his flannel shirt. Her noses brushes against his as she murmurs. “Were you talking about the steak or…?”

Kaidan’s lips crash into hers, tipping her back with the force of his kiss. Jane swears softly as she kisses back, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck and holding on. There’s so much of him to touch, to hold onto--she feels like a meteor caught in his orbit. His warmth, his gravity, pulls her faster and harder, and she breathes raggedly against Kaidan’s lips when he finally pulls away. “We…” Kaidan pants, “we should talk about this.”

Even though Jane knows what he means, she’d so much rather touch than talk. Human or not, describing her feelings feels like speaking in Thessian rather than English, and she’s going to describe meat when she really means to talk about her heart. “Pretty sure you already know about my kinks, Alenko.”

He smiles a little despite himself. “Yeah I do. But I don’t know much about you.” His hands keep wandering across her front, her back, her shoulders her hips, like he’s itching to take her clothes off. What’s keeping him? Kaidan’s cheeks flush, his breath comes out ragged. Why hesitate when he wants her?

“There’s not much to know, Kaidan.” She leans forward to capture his lips, and Kaidan pushes her back with a finger.

Biting his lips, he asks quietly, “Is this just about sex?”

“Does it have to be about anything else?” She leans against him, feeling him hard against her.

Kadain swallows a groan. “I can’t do this if...this is all there is.” His hand cradles her face, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to just fuck you, Jane. I want to make love to you.”

Why does he have to do that? “People I love either end up dead...or they leave me dead.” Did she ever love Rasa? Can someone who’s dead inside truly love another person?

“I’m not going to do that, Jane.” Kaidan swallows, searching her eyes desperately. She...she hasn’t been looked at like that since...God, and he’s not lying. Jane’s heard stories about what him and Shepard have been through.

Jane trembles with all the feelings she’s kept locked up tight. Maybe...just maybe that’s Rasa’s problem. Love, empathy...they leave one exposed, vulnerable. Rasa spent so long surviving she forgot how to do anything else. “I don’t deserve--”

“Love isn’t about what you deserve.” His thumb brushes her cheek gently, slowly, like an evening tide. “But I think you already know that.” He dares to smile a little, as if he already knows what she’s about to say.

“I already do...love you, Kaidan,” Jane manages to say. “If I’m even capable of such a thing.”

“You are capable of so much more than you think, Jane.” Kaidan kisses her again, pulling her into space with him, like they’re the center of the universe.

Jane holds onto him tightly, kissing back like he’s her only tether in zero gravity.

They break for air after what seems like forever and nothing at all. Kaidan laughs softly against her mouth. “And you probably already know, but I love y--”

The smoke alarm screeches as the steak fills the air with smoke.

“Oops.”

Kaidan swears, turning the stove off and setting it aside. “Pizza?” He says sheepishly.

“Mm... I was thinking teriyaki.” Jane keys in an order on her omnitool. “Done.”

“Mm,” Kaidan agrees. “That place serves everything a la carte. We better make some stir fry.”

“You gonna teach me? Or are you gonna set them on fire too?” Jane grins, drawing a finger down his chin.

“I can be very focused when I want to be.” Kaidan kisses down her neck as if to demonstrate his point.

Jane moans softly, winding her fingers into his curls. “What--what veggies are we stirring and frying?”

“Carrots.” Kaidan pushes a hand up her shirt. “Broccoli.” His tongue and his teeth run across her neck. “Snap peas.” He breathes against her ear, hot and heavy, “and onions” and his biotics stir her hair.

Putty in his arms, Jane manages to undo his shirt, pushing her hands inside to brush the rough knit of his tank top. “Sauce?” She breathes.

“Sesame, of course.” He bites her collar bone as if to illustrate his point. The sound of a cabinet slamming open buries her next moan. Kaidan pulls out a wok, dropping next to the burner.

The next few moments are less about learning how to cook, and more about Jane trying to distract him from cooking. “Do you like having your tits played with?” She says completely out of the blue, pushing his flannel off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.  

Blinking at her, Kaidan opens the fridge door, biting his lip when her hands sneak underneath his tank top. “Uh...yeah, I guess. Been a while since--”

He manages to get the stove turned back on before she latches on to his nipple. “Fuck.”

“Mm. Sensitive, are we?”

“Nng.” Kaidan wipes his forehead, reaching for the chopped veggies he has waiting in the fridge. “Fuck, Jane,” he swears as her teeth ever so slightly graze his skin.

Distantly, Jane hears a wet towel hitting the carpet. “Hot damn.”

The two of them turn to see Shepard standing stark naked in the living room, just outside the bathroom, with steam still rolling off her shoulders.

“...Oh. I uh, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can uh...go take another shower.” Shepard turns, muttering under her breath. “A cold one.”

Jane and Kaidan exchange a look. “Get your ass over here, Shepard,” Kaidan says gruffly, and his voice rumbles in his chest against Jane’s fingers.

Shepard saunters over, carrying her towel with her as Jane snickers. Instead of getting between them, she drapes the towel on an empty space on the kitchen island, plopping her bare skin on top of it. Her heels bounce against the cupboards as she munches on some thawing broccoli. “Well?” she says as they stare.

“Suit yourself.” Jane turns toward Kaidan again, finding his nipple still moist and erect from her attention earlier. His head falls back as she takes it in her mouth again. Shepard’s heel stills as her partner moans.

Kaidan pulls her head back up, kissing her ravenously. He leans heavily against the opposite counter, bringing her with him. His fingers slip up under the hem of her crop top, exploring her edges and curves. In turn she explores his mouth with her tongue, taking note of how tentative and cautious he is compared to Shepard. As Jane breaks for air, his thumbs brush the curves of her breasts, and he gazes at her with wonder. She should say something, anything, but her mouth feels so dry.

“It’s okay, Jane.” Shepard murmurs from behind her. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Fingering the edge of her top, Kaidan asks softly, “Okay?”

Part of her brain still doubts this is happening. Jane has dreamed of Kaidan taking her clothes off--more than once--but in real life? “Yeah,” she says thickly, pulling his tank top off so that they’ll be a matching pair.

Tracing the bare skin of his chest, Jane wonders if Kaidan waxes or shaves--if it’s his preference or Shepard’s. Sliding her fingers down the lines of his abdomen, she decides it must be his idea. Kaidan seems like the type to show off, but not in an obvious way. Jane shivers as he follows her lead, skimming the lines of her tattoos one by one, with his lips parted. The sight of those lips does something to her, and she leans in to kiss him again.

“You’re so beautiful, Jane,” Kaidan says softly against her lips. “Has anyone told you that?”

Shepard hums in agreement, and Jane blushes despite herself. They’re making her soft. Somehow, she doesn’t mind. “Quit buttering me up. I’m not on the menu.”

Kaidan laughs. “Is that so?” His knuckles bump the button on her jeans, and Jane sucks in a breath, leaning into his touch as she kisses down his neck. She bites his skin just enough to leave a mark and his fingers fumble as they pull her zipper down.

Jane’s about to reciprocate, but Kaidan starts kissing down her neck, then her collarbone and her chest. She wets her lips, glancing back at Shepard as she moans softly. Shepard herself grins, her hands clenching and unclenching as if she’s itching to touch them or herself. Her thighs rub together almost imperceptibly. Winking at her, Jane steps out of her jeans, shivering at the sight of Kaidan on his knees.

He caresses her thighs, and her ass through her underwear, smiling up at her. “I can’t wait to taste you,” he says softly. Shepard tosses him her box of dental dams, grinning widely.

“You sure I taste all that differ--” Her own words get caught in her moan as Kaidan licks her through the thin rubber. Kaidan takes his time, looking up at her frequently to gauge what works and what doesn’t. Jane’s grip starts to slip on the counter as her legs begin to shake. “Kaidan--”

“I got ya,” Instead of plopping down, Shepard crawls across the counter, her weak knee almost falling into the sink. She takes her towel with her, settling behind Jane’s shoulders, holding her steady with one hand. Her fingers scratch her scalp with the other.

Kaidan murmurs his thanks against her folds, holding up a hand for some gloves.

“Yeah yeah. Make the gimp do everything,” Shepard mutters playfully as she pulls the box toward them with her biotics.

Kaidan pulls away long enough to put his gloves on and shoot back, “Excuse me? Who’s the one cooking dinner?”

“Are you?” Jane glances over, turning the burner off.

“I’ll....warm up something in the microwave.” Shepard slides off the counter, fishing out a can of green beans from the pantry. Must be Kaidan’s doing--Shepard would eat out all the time if left to her own devices.

Jane pats Kaidan’s curls as he finishes snapping his gloves into place. She swallows as a wicked grin blooms across his cheeks. “How do you like to be touched, Jane?”

She quirks an eyebrow at him. “You’ve seen Shepard fuck me how many times?”

“I want to hear you say it.” He says gruffly as he runs his gloved hands up and down her thighs.

Her first instinct is to ask why he cares. Just let him love you, damnit. Shepard squeezes her shoulders soothingly. Jane knows what she likes...but saying it out loud? Goddess, she must be blushing as bright as her hair. “Can I show you?”

Kaidan kisses the back of her hand. “Of course.” His thumb brushes her knuckles.

Taking his hand, Jane guides his fingertips to her clit, circling the edges of her inner lips, shivering at how wet she is already. Together they circle her clit slowly, lightly until she starts to squirm. “Harder,” she croaks, letting go of his hand, so she can take two fingers from his free hand.

Shepards hands scratch behind her ears as Jane closes her eyes. She rocks into Kaidan’s fingers, letting one moan after another slip from her mouth. “You want to come yet?” He looks up at her thoughtfully.

“Y-yeah,” Jane stutters, feeling Shepard’s nails scratching down her skin. Then she feels Kaidan’s biotics stirring against her. Oh fuck, she wasn’t expecting that. Crying out, she swears in at least two languages as she loses herself in him, letting him work his fingers in and out until she’s too sensitive to touch. Grabbing his wrist, Jane croaks “Don’t let me have all the fun.”

Kaidan chuckles, pulling his fingers away, and Jane looks directly into his eyes as she reaches below his belt. “Mm. I know I’ve seen it before but feeling it up close is completely different.” His chuckle turns into a laugh, and then a groan as her touch grows firmer and faster.

“Jane,” he whispers, closing his eyes.

“You like the way that feels, Kaidan?” Jane asks, and Kaidan manages a strangled reply. She reaches over, deftly undoing his belt, button, and zipper, shoving his jeans down his hips. As she slides her hand into briefs, she hears the slick of Shepard’s fingers moving against her own cunt. Glancing over, she finds Shepard watching them both hungrily, drinking in the sight of them as she touches herself.

“If I’m bothering you, just say the word,” Shepard says hoarsely.

“I think Kaidan likes being watched.” She turns to watch Kaidan melt in her hand, “Don’t you?”

Kaidan groans, rocking into her hand a little as she slides it up and down. “Jane...I’m not--bed. Now.”

Jane leads the way to the bedroom, releasing him from her grip so she can take his hand instead. It’s strange--somehow the hand squeezing, and the hugs, even the kisses on the back of her hand--it stirs the heat inside her more than anything else. She sits on the bed, patting the space next to her until he crawls next to her. Shepard leans against the door, holding her arm. “You coming, or not?”

“Uh--”

“There’s plenty of room, Shepard.” Kaidan patted the space beside him.

“It’s a queen size, Kaidan.” Was Shepard...nervous? “It barely fits two people.”

Jane quirked her head. “You ate me out on your couch with Kaidan sitting on it. You didn’t complain, then.”

“That wasn’t our first time.” Ah, there’s that blush. Shepard’s confident--not much can make her do that, and it makes it all the sweeter for Jane. “I want this to be special.”

“It is special. Now c’mon.”

Shepard swallows, sitting on the edge. “If you’re sure.” She watches Jane push Kaidan onto his back, crawling over to straddle his hips.

Jane leans over him, running a hand down his chest, all the way to his navel, relishing in the way it shortens his breath. Her fingers linger at the top of his underwear, grinding up against his length. She closes her eyes, shivering at the way his hips arch to meet hers. “You ready for me, Kaidan?”

“Nng. Almost.” He reaches into the bedside drawer, pulling out a condom from Shepard’s sex toy collection.

“...You bought those recently.”

“Since when do you take inventory?”

“She does that every time she’s in here, Kaidan,” Shepard drawls.

Jane ignores them both, sliding Kaidan’s briefs off so she can slide the condom on, adding some lube just in case. This is it, she thinks to herself, chewing her lip as she looks down at Kaidan. He reaches up, caressing her cheek.

“Are you ready, Jane?”

She answers him with a heated kiss until he grips the sheets. Jane guides him inside her with her fingers, and they moan in unison. Kaidan watches her with half-lidded eyes as she rocks into him. Part of her can’t believe this is really happening. A year ago, the Clone would have laughed at the idea of fucking Shepard’s boyfriend, but her body can’t deny how nice he feels--so full and warm, and--

Kaidan pulls her face down so he can kiss her. They’re a tangled mess of limbs and sweat and with the way his fingers slide through her hair she knows it won’t look the same without a shower. She pulls his bottom lip between hers as she moves faster, and she breathes raggedly against his mouth, their breath intermingling in a way that makes her head spin. “Fuck, Kaidan. You feel so good.”

Shepard groans beside them, and Jane glances over, shivering at the way she eyes them with want. Soon. She tells herself. Kaidan takes in a sharp breath, drawing Jane’s attention back to him. His eyes pinch shut and Jane grins as she gets an idea.

“Getting close, Kaidan?” His strangled moan his only reply. She starts to pull off him, leaving just the tip inside.

“Nng.” Kaidan grasps her hips, trying to pull her back.

“Shepard,” Jane says, nodding at Kaidan’s hands.

“Mm. Need some help?” Shepard smirks, crawling over to the headboard, sitting on top of the pillows behind Kaidan’s head.

“Not...fair,” Kaidan manages to say as Shepard pulls his hands back and holds them down.

“Shh. You’ll love it.” Jane edges her way back onto him, bringing him to the brink before pulling completely out, over and over until he’s begging her to finish what they started.

“Jane, please. I--” His fingernails turn white as he squeezes against Shepard’s grip.

“I got you.” Jane kisses him soothingly, holding a thumbs up for Shepard to release him.

Kaidan flares so hard that all of Jane’s hair stands on end. He rolls them over, plunging in and out of her so hard his balls slap against her skin. Gripping her hips, he changes the angle so that he pushes deeper and deeper inside until they both cry out.

“Holy shit, Jane,” Kaidan gasps softly, pulling out of her and disposing of the used condom.

Jane sits up against the headboard, staring at the door across the room. Usually by this point she’s already reaching for her clothes...but with Kaidan and Shepard it feels different. “It wasn’t too much, was it? You said you liked being dominated somet--”

Kaidan presses a finger against her lips, bonelessly squeezing her hand. “You were amazing. You are amazing.”

Pillow talk feels so foreign to her, but she feels a little bit better. Jane’s ever so much aware of Kaidan’s nearness to her, and every fiber of her being itches to touch him again. Words escape her. She can’t go with snark, or it might come off the wrong way--Hey, you were a better lay than I thought. Or I see why Shepard likes you so much. Honestly, what does come to mind seems so simple and childish, but Jane can’t think of anything else, and she needs to say something. “I think I like being with you.” Her skin must be as red as her hair.

Kaidan’s lips taste like the cherry flavoring of their lube. “I like being with you, too.” He glances to the side. “Speaking of being with.”

Shepard pulls her fingers out sheepishly. “I...should go clean up before we do anything more.”

“We all should.” Kaidan sits up with a groan.

“Whatever you say, old man.” Jane rolls off the bed, following Shepard to the bathroom.

By the time they’re done washing and rinsing, Shepard’s stomach growls. “Shit.”

“Dinner.” Kaidan and Jane say together. The green beans and teriyaki (found out on their doorstep) don’t taste as nice as they would have had they been eaten fresh, but it fills them nonetheless.

Halfway through her next bite, Jane spots something across the apartment, sitting on a stand next to the front door. In retrospect, Jane realizes she never paid much attention to the living room as she came in. Usually her attention was focused entirely on making Shepard come undone. “Is that--?”

Shepard’s eyes narrow and her lips press together in a fine line. “The hamster you put in a dumpster? Yeah. His name is Jeff, by the way.”

Jane blinks, speaking quickly. “Maya wanted to space it with the rest of the stuff in your cabin.”

Kaidan quirks his head, taking her in. “You wanted to save him.”

Focusing her attention on her half-eaten dinner, Jane nods. “Maya would have never let me keep it.”

“Mm.” Shepard hums, probably chewing on an apology along with her food. Kaidan elbows her. “Fine. I’m glad you did the best you could.”

“Thanks.” Jane dares to glance up at her. “...I’m glad he’s okay.”

“Yeah, me too.”

The rest of dinner passes without fanfare, though Jane is painfully aware she hasn’t hardly touched Shepard all night. It’s when Shepard’s dish has finally dropped into the sink that Jane closes in. “Hi,” Shepard says with a smirk. “Looking for something?”

Jane runs her finger down Shepard’s cheek. “Someone, actually.” She eyes Kaidan. “Who wants to be in the middle?” Her heart races as she says it, and her mouth goes dry. Already she can imagine several possibilities and they send goosebumps down her spine.

“You thinking DP or--?”

“Mm... that or doubling down on Kaidan.” Jane licks her lips as Kaidan blushes.

“You down for that, Kaidan?”

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly, his eyes already a shade darker than they were a moment before.

Taking both their hands, Jane leads them back to the bedroom. Kaidan stretches out on the bed eyeing them with that shy smile. Jane and Shepard help each other out of their clothes, crawling towards Kaidan with their lips parted. Each steals a kiss from Kaidan, before descending on each other, kissing each other ravenously, and giving the man next to them a small taste of what’s to come. They work on his cock together, both Jane and Shepard pumping up and down his shaft with their right and left hands. Shepard whispers naughty things in his ear and Jane sinks her teeth into his neck--not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a mark.

“God, you two are--.” Kaidan groans, one hand on Shepard’s ass, the other on Jane’s back. His distracted fingers fail to find purchase when as they tag-team his body.

“You ready for us, Kaidan?” Shepard whispers into his ear, running her thumb across the tip of his length.

Jane knows she’s ready. Every fiber of her being aches to feel both of them. But in what way? She sucks in a breath when the idea comes to her. Shepard turns to her, grinning as her breaths turn up short. “You know…. I had a turn riding Kaidan. Shouldn’t you have one?”

Shepard licks her lips, unable to help making out with Jane a second time, kissing down her neck to her collarbone before looking at her (their?) boyfriend. “Kaidan?”

Kaidan chews his grin as he makes eye contact with Jane. “So, you’d be the one riding my face.”

“Mmhm.”

Leaning back, Kaidan takes Jane by the elbows. “C’mere.”

She leans over him, letting him taste Shepard on her lips, winding her fingers through his curls. She feels the snap of latex panties against her hips, and she grins as she licks Kaidan’s lips until his fists clench. Parting from his mouth is such sweet sorrow, as he trails his kisses down her neck, then her chest. Just as a moan escapes from her mouth, Kaidan and Shepard switch her around, so that Kaidan lips are on her spine, and Shepard’s are on her mouth.

“Nng. Fuck.” Jane gasps, kissing Shepard sloppily as she feels Kaidan's lips trail down one of her butt cheeks.

“Mm,” Shepard hums in agreement, pulling away for air. She guides Kaidan’s girth inside herself, and Jane sucks in a breath as she watches.

Reaching down, Jane stimulates Shepard’s clit, grinning as Shepard starts to ride Kaidan, losing her rhythm as Kaidan finds her cunt with his mouth. Shepard swallows her cries with her kisses, gripping her head with one hand, steadying herself with the other. At first it’s too much, and Jane is a quivering mess, but Kaidan’s hands guide her hips against his tongue.

And it is beautiful. She feels whole for the first time in her life. Jane is weightless, beyond the atmosphere or the confines of a life-supporting spaceship--but she knows she won’t drift away. Shepard and Kaidan anchor her to Earth, pull her in with their gravity as they writhe and twist in the bed sheets until they are pile of sweat-laden limbs gasping for air.

Later, Jane wakes in the middle of the night to find the First Human Spectres using her shoulders for pillows and smiles at the irony. Never would she have imagined, let alone dare to dream she would end up in their arms. What did Jane ever do to deserve this? To be loved, to be safe? Who is she, but a copy of a real hero?

Staring at the ceiling, Jane chides herself. Stop over thinking it. You’re happy. You get to be happy. Deal with it.

CAN’T GET NO SATISFACTION | CHAPTER 4

DESCRIPTION: You are VP of Sales for a company with stores and major distribution links across the country and your executive assistant, and only real friend, is leaving. A temp is brought in to replace her, on probation, for you try him out. Of course, nobody told you that it was a him, or that his name was Dean Winchester, or that you’d want to try him out.

A/N: This is an office AU basically from this post. Yep, it’s all a setup for that joke.

[Characters: Dean x Reader, OFC, OMC Words: 3,708. Warnings: workplace drama kids, shit hitting the fan, fucking patriarchy]

Ao3 link if you prefer. Series Masterlist

“No. Shit. No.” It was all he heard before he looked up in time to see her head fall into her arms as they rested on the desk. Until this point, he doesn’t think he’s heard her say anything more than ‘heck’ and even that was just one time late after everyone else left. So, for her to be shouting ‘shit’ in the middle of the day, loud enough for him, and he’s sure others, to hear? Well, that’s a problem.

It’s not concern that forces him up from his chair at the sight of her, it’s just, they were supposed to start their meeting five minutes ago. When she hadn’t called him in he was being polite but now maybe he can distract her. That’s all.

He grabs her a drink first, what assistant goes into an appraisal without one? An idiot assistant that’s who. Dean is decidedly not an idiot so it’s with her drink in his hand that he knocks on the glass door like he’s not been dreading hearing what she thinks of him.

“Dean, what are you…?” She looks up at him confused, her question dying on her lips as they form a perfect ‘o’.

He wants to be annoyed that she forgot about him. Frustration is his knee-jerk reaction. Except there are these worry lines on her face that he hasn’t seen before so he doubles his efforts to let his own emotions go with a heavy swallow.

“I’m so sorry Dean, please sit down.” She searches for a minute as she speaks eventually picking up her phone and typing something furiously.

If he’s honest he wouldn’t have minded her postponing this, or canceling it, whatever. He knows she’s not going to let it go. Eventually, he’s going to end up in this situation, the receiving end of one of her meetings. And he’s not scared of her it’s just what she’s going to say that worries him. It’s one thing to think that your maybe your boss thinks you’re too dumb to do your job right, it’s a really shitty ending to his week to actually hear the words. That’s the sort of stuff you can’t just leave at your desk to have a nice weekend.

“Ok. Let’s go.” She says putting her phone down and giving him her full attention. “Why did you come to work here?”

Wow. She’s going straight for it. Her face is totally unreadable while she waits for an answer and he can’t fight the doubt in his gut. Obviously, he tries to bullshit his way out of getting fired at this point.

“Well, I mean. The company has got such a good reputation of-”

“Dean?” Thank god she stopped him because he had no idea where he was taking that sentence.

“Yeah?”

She smiles, the first time he’s seen her smile all day, and it’s more soothing than he knew he needed. “I’m sorry this is my fault. I forgot you haven’t had one of these with me before so I’ll be honest. I’ve never even looked at the template HR sent me. I’m really only looking to have a conversation with you, just be honest with me. It all stays in this room and I swear this isn’t a test.”

He lets out a giant puff of air he didn’t know he’d been holding in and his shoulders drop thankfully. It’s pretty impossible not to smile back at her or be sucked into her pleas for honesty. He lets himself get too comfortable with her so it all tumbles out too easy. So quickly that his brain doesn’t even approve the words.

“I really, really hated temping, getting treated like a thing and passed about for whatever. There was one guy who didn’t even bother to learn my name. He just called me ‘sport’”

She wrinkles her nose as she nods, “that I believe.” He also sees the flash of guilt that breezes across her face then and wonders what it’s for, she’s called him Dean since day one. “I think we’ve all been there, I know I have. How are you liking it here though? I know the hours aren’t great but how are you finding the actual work?”

He struggles to think about the question straight away because he’s distracted by her admission of being a temp herself. He’d forgotten that she didn’t pop up in the world as this put together sales VP that she is. It kind of blows his mind to imagine her running around after someone else getting them lunch and printing out memos but he supposes she had to start somewhere. The pads of his fingers itch like her story is something for him to scratch at. But this meeting isn’t for him to ask about her, as much as he wants to.

“It’s fine, great even. Everyone is great, the work is great. There was a lot to learn but I think I’ve got a handle on it. I guess everything is just-”

“Great?” She finishes his sentence with a grin and he’s not even bothered by being cut off. He should be, would be usually. Except he’s not because she’s joking with him and slowly it’s starting to turn into an actual conversation which means his palms aren't nearly as clammy as they had been then he’d come in.

“I know this question is going to sound like I’m trying to trick you but I promise I’m not. Where do you want to be in five years? Or, should I say, do you know what you want to do?”

He’s too comfortable again. That and he heard her say shit earlier. His answer is so automatic and honest that he doesn’t really have time to censor it, “not a fucking clue.”

His eyes widen the second it slips out and she freezes for way too long.

And then something unexpected happens. She laughs.

He’s heard her laugh before but he’s never been the one making her laugh. Maddy gets it out of her when they have lunch every now and then, and she’s laughed down the phone. This one is for him though, a laugh he’s never heard before. It’s all unexpected and coming from somewhere deep in her belly, and he did that. His embarrassment melts into a relieved chuckle of his own.

“That might be the most honest answer I’ve ever heard.” She manages through the amusement as it dies in her throat. She has to suck in a quick puff of air for how suddenly it had hit her and pride flutters in his chest.

He shrugs, “it’s true I guess. It’s why I put up with temping anyway. I wanted to see what was out there.”

Now there’s something determined on her face. “I’d really love to help you figure it out if you’re ok with that? I think we can put a plan together so you can try your hand at a few things. How does that sound?”

He really hadn’t expected this. He’d almost called in sick today to avoid sitting in this room. And he knows he hasn’t got the feedback part yet but he can’t imagine she’d be offering him this if she didn’t have some modicum of faith in him. She makes it so easy for him to nod gratefully as he answers, “that would be awesome.”

“Y/N?”

You look up from your desk and before you notice the source of your name you see how the lights of the office are brighter against the darkness flooding in the windows. The last time you’d looked up it was daylight. Only after being crushed at having lost half a day to your panic, do you notice Charlie. Not for anything she’s done, but she’s probably the last person you want to see considering today’s various email chains.

You plaster a smile on your face as best you can, trying to maintain your usual light conversation with her, “now I know it’s serious since you’ve come to see me.”

She grins that same loveable grin that she always seems to have for the few people she genuinely enjoys talking to. You’re torn between being pleased she’s still smiling at you like that and thinking that it makes all of this so much harder.

“Word on the street is that you haven’t left this office all day so I figured this was the only way to get some face time.”

Word on the street? You glance at the clock on your computer, 8:45pm, and then you look over at the desk on the other side of the glass where Dean is still sitting. Not without a yawn you notice.

“Come in, take a seat, just give me a second.” You jump up with more fire than you’ve had all day and stand at the door where Charlie had been leaning. “Dean, go home.”

His head whips round to look at you, an argument on his lips no doubt, but you belay it before he has the chance, “call me a car for nine-thirty and then get out of here. Please. It’s Friday night.”

He nods, his curled lips vaguely apologetic even though it’s your fault he’s still sitting there for crying out loud.

“See you Monday.” You order again before shutting the door behind you, he doesn’t need to hear this conversation while he’s going home.

“I’m surprised you’re still talking to me.” You don’t waste any time avoiding the elephant in the room once you and Charlie are alone.

She laughs and you’re genuinely surprised by her attitude, you knew she was pretty laid back but she had to turn the website off five hours ago because the distribution center is out of stock of the top 50 lines. Because of your sale.

“You’re one of the few people around here I actually like talking to, besides, it’s only stock. Nothing wrong with my actual site. Now Doug? Yeah, he might be mad at you.” There’s a playful twinkle in her eye, no one truly likes Doug after all.

You grimace even though you don’t want to, you want to stay calm and collected but he already thought you were public enemy number one before this all happened. “When isn’t he mad at me?”

Charlie sits forward in her chair so that her elbows rest on the edge of your desk and her head sits innocently in her hands, “I only wanted to check you’re ok. I know you’re probably sitting up here blaming yourself-“

“It’s my fault, so yeah. I am.”

She purses her lips and raises an eyebrow for being interrupted, “it could have have happened to anyone. And you’re smart enough to know that at the end of the day we just made money. Yeah, we’ve got some issues to fix but we’re still turning a profit.”

The smile you crack is half appreciative and still half fake. “It didn’t happen to anyone though, it happened to me. Micheal is going to have my ass. He wants to see me when he’s back in next week.”

“Ass?” She can’t stop herself from beaming with a mock affronted tone, “Y/N! Such language in the office!”

Your eyes dart about excessively as you lean in to whisper, “fuck off Charlie.”

It sets you both off and for the first time since the now infamous RE: The Website email chain you feel genuinely lighter. Yes you’d still have to deal with Michael next week and yes you’d be working all day tomorrow to help try and find stock in any of your stores to transfer over, but as you laugh with Charlie you can’t help but think that maybe you have at least one more friend in this company than you previously thought.

Everyone hates the dick that runs off the subway as soon as the doors open, pushing past people and diving through crowds with no consideration for anyone else, like they’re the only one trying to get to work.

Today Dean is that dick.

He’s late, again. While it might be the second time there’s no backup today. No Maddy to cover for him until he arrives. And it’s only 30 minutes but that’s enough that she’ll already be there, wondering where he is and sending out a search party for her goddamn coffee probably. He’s one of the few people that has seen her before her first coffee of the day and he knows how much she needs it. If she’s a little crazy the rest of the time she’s fucking certifiable without caffeine.

It’s kind of deja vu when he arrives. It’s normal that he’s the first person on the floor but it’s still empty when he arrives, the same as his first day. He looks at his watch to confirm and, yep, he’s definitely late and she should definitely be here. His movements are slow and cautious like she’s waiting to pounce attack from somewhere with an empty mug in her hands, except she doesn’t. He makes it all the way to his desk, his messenger bag dropped unceremoniously at his feet and still nothing. It’s only once he logs into his computer with an overhasty sigh that he sees it, a new email at the top of his inbox.  

Got called into an emergency meeting, won’t be back till 9. Cancel my 8am call.

Fuck. He is so fucked. It’s Monday morning and he’s late but worse than that, she’s gone into a two-hour meeting without a drop of caffeine in her system. She didn’t even sign her name, which, she always does. She’s hot on that email etiquette shit even when she’s firing one out from her phone.

He looks down at his bag and wonders if he should even bother being here when she gets back before he remembers that meeting with her on Friday. She’d given him real work to do, she’d made promises to get him experience in other departments, but mostly she’d been normal. Like an actual normal person, halfway to being a friend, and that’s what he’s clinging to. That version of her wouldn’t fire him for being half an hour late. Once the panic subsides he thinks the crazy version wouldn’t either.

Pinging open the meeting room calendar he sees that it’s that dick Doug who’s booked the room and his decision is made right there. There’s no way she’ll survive and he doesn’t intend to leave her to suffer more than necessary. So, he makes her usual, with an extra shot by way of apology, and heads to the elevator. She didn’t say do not disturb or anything and he’ll just knock, take it in and leave. Let Doug hate him, as long as she doesn’t.

The biggest challenge is not spilling hot coffee over himself when the elevator chugs to life and then stops two floors up with an equally bracing shudder, but this is not his first rodeo and Dean has nimble fingers. After surviving the trip knocking on the meeting room door is no problem at all, he doesn’t even hesitate.

“Come in.” It’s muffled by the wood but it’s definitely a male voice that orders him in.

Maybe he would have hesitated if he’s known that the entire VP team was in here. Or maybe he wouldn’t have come faster when he sees the look on Y/N’s face.

They’re all sat like any other meeting except they all seem a little more constipated than normal. And they’re all facing her. She’s sitting there flushed with what looks like shame, her forehead resting in one hand as if she can barely hold her own head up to face them. Dean has no clue what’s going on but he doesn’t like it.

It takes her three seconds to look up and spot him at the door but it feels like three hours. It’s worth the wait anyway because as flustered and broken as she looks staring into the table her face melts when she looks at him. She smiles big and bright and for a moment it reaches all the way to her eyes. And she’s not even looking at the coffee in his hand.

“Sorry, just came to bring you this.” He says to her, ignoring the other men in the room who’s sphincters appeared to have tightened even more at his interruption.  

She nods, “thank you, you’re a lifesaver.” He can tell she means it and he thinks it’s about more than the coffee.

He smiles back at her and then straightens his face out to offer the briefest of acknowledgments to the other VP’s before leaving. He almost doesn’t go back to his desk when he’s out of the room. He considers setting up camp outside just in case she needs him or so he’s there when she gets out because she looks like she needs something, then he remembers that’s ridiculous. She’s his boss and tough as nails at that. Plus it’d probably be a waste of two hours.

When he gets back to their floor he’s surprised to see someone sitting on his desk. Not at it, on it. She turns to him at the sound of his footsteps and beams.

“You must be Dean!”

He knows the voice as soon he hears it since he talks to her at least once a day. Although he had no idea the voice was attached to someone as hot as the woman standing in front of him.

“Sabina?

“Hey Dean,” she draws out his name while she sizes him up, ending with a satisfied grin as she reaches out to shake his hand. “It’s great to finally put a face to the voice.”

It might be half-past seven in the morning but Dean raises an eyebrow like he’s just bumped into her at a bar, “same here. I had no idea what I was missing out on.”

This woman in the short skirt and power jacket, that any other day he might call a boss bitch, giggles and then pouts her lips at him for eliciting the reaction.

“So, where is our boss?” He doesn’t miss the reminder that Sabine isn't his boss.

“Stuck in a meeting, she won’t be back for over an hour.”

Dean not being in the office when she arrived that morning had been disconcerting. Doug calling her within five minutes and summoning her to a meeting had been terrifying. The room itself, the faces and the conversation had been hell on earth. It was, of course, a thinly veiled ambush. An outlet for the other VP’s to vocalise their displeasure at the sheer amount of work her problem would require from all of their teams. Doug’s being the hardest hit. Him already hating you the most. You’re surprised he wasn’t spitting bile by the end.

You want to say it was better once they got it out of their system but that would imply that they stopped with the aggression. Even once you were all talking logistics and solutions they couldn’t hide their frustration. You didn’t even want to think about the eye rolls and mutters when you got up in the front of the room and lead the charge in making a list of tasks and assigning jobs. There was no appeasing them, not even by taking more than you should yourself.

You get it. You messed up. Although that wasn’t really harsh enough, you fucked up. Even if you kind of didn’t. You did the research and even in your worst case scenarios, this being one of them except for the shutting the website down part, the margins weren’t terrible. Yes, there would be a slight knock-on effect for selling that quantity at a sale price but you still sold the stock.

It’s not enough. If you try and point that out, or talk about the fact that you’d still made money they brought it back to the shame of it all. It’s such bad PR. Social media is raking us over the coals. Commercial suicide.

And people say women are dramatic.

Thankfully you’re all out ten minutes early, probably because they all need to go and think up some more insults for later. Regardless you feel like you’re floating when you get back to your floor. Freedom does that to a girl. Other people have started arriving now and Dean is at his desk typing away. He seems surprised when you stop in front of him and his eyes flick to the time in the corner of the screen.

“Sorry. I really don’t have a good excuse. My alarm…”

You hold your hand up with a smile, which is much easier to do out of that room, “it’s fine. You start work two hours earlier than anyone else just to be here for me. Just text me next time?”

He rubs the back of his neck as he agrees but stops as you try to walk away.

“Sabina is here. Well, not here, she went downstairs but she’ll be back at nine. Said she just wanted half an hour?”

You feel yourself perk up a little at this information. Sabina would be incredibly helpful right now and considering her sales area includes fifth, which still has the sale on, she could potentially be bringing you good news.

“That’s actually perfect, can you send her straight in when she gets back please?”

“Sure thing.”

You look at the lock screen of your phone and note the time as you slump into your comfortable chair. You have seven minutes to breathe and try to forget the last two hours. Well, not forget since you have a considerable list of actions points from the meeting, but forget the experience anyway. You have seven minutes to try and expel the embarrassment and failure that clings to you.

Michael isn’t back in town till Thursday so that gives you three days to fix this. If the website isn’t back up before he arrives you will be a thousand percent done here. You’re actually fairly confident that as long as the site is back up then you’ll be fine. But if you’ve made the mess and not cleaned it up? That would be a cause for concern. 

Continue to Chapter Five

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @assassinofmasyaf Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles  Story tags: @mannls @22sarah08

Quick Game Reviews: What I played 2018

I’m gonna go ahead and do this for the whole year, which includes games that WEREN’T released this year, but I played this year. I also made this throughout the year, so most the opinions were right after I played it and if it’s been updated further might not include that in my blurb.

I needed to type and felt like I needed to make something. This might motivate me I suppose. Let’s get started

DOOM 2016 [PC]

I grew up on Pokemon, Mario, and Doom II. I couldn’t play it until I got my new computer this year so yeah way too late. This is a pretty solid game, though thanks to all of the bonuses and honestly nearly intrusive leveling up system kinda stepped in the way of the raw combat. It’s obviously my choice, but I felt encouraged to spend a lot of time exploring areas I’d already cleared rather than run and gun.

That being said, I still loved it. The secrets were, for the most part, really clever and fun anyway and the combat is delicious. I would strongly recommend this

A Hat in Time + Seal the Deal DLC [PC]

I love this game. A lot. It’s really cute and looks really good, it’s got a ton of charm, and it’s honestly a very good time overall. I 100% the base game last year when it first came out, and I would highly recommend to fans of 3D platformers, and still worth a try if you’re on the fence on them. The mod support is also great that it’s in there and I want to try that a lot. however the DLC...

So the new level is pretty short and while it’s fun, it’s not as good as the other levels. The characters (I think) are really cute and the charm is all there and that great, but it has all of 3 levels, and 2 of them are exploring the exact same places (the boat) and the 3rd is a nice twist on that, but other than that it’s pretty barren. The time rifts were fun as well, but alone... eh. The Death Wish portion, that is the super hard challenge mode...

... is not good. Obviously my opinion, and I might be missing the point, but after having been frustrated over and over and over again, the game itself is just not tight or clean enough to warrant it. My backing for this is that a large portion of the challenges rely on originally unintended level geometry or quirky mechanics in order to complete, and having challenges that require you to be in the know about these honestly inconsistent “quirks” is just not good. Specific examples: the ice hat giving you a small boost to avoid jumping in challenges is alright but fluctuates in how much height it gives you a lot, the challenges around the train chase still have the wonky hitboxes that do not line up with what’s still on screen, and the parade challenge has an invisible hitbox on the main platform that can kill runs. In short If you have found you love the main game and are a bit of a masochist, go for the DLC.

Pokémon Ultra Sun [3DS]

This is more or less just a revisit of the same generation with some very minor changes. The story changes take the focus away from Lillie and Lusamine (and as a result how interesting the former and evil the latter are) and places it on Necrozma and Ultra Beasts. I really like what they did with Necrozma, but overall it feels like a lot less. And while the Rainbow Rocket post game was nice and fun nostalgia, it’s still missing a solid post game like B2W2 or Gen II had. 

Ultra Wormholes are cool though, and all the good mechanics from SM are still there, so honestly I would recommend this if you haven’t played gen 7 and like Pokémon.

Hey! Pikmin [3DS]

It’s awful. I can’t think of a reason to pick this up.

I can rant about this for years, but it basically got the Zip Lash/ Sticker Star treatment: it took a franchise known for something and made it something else that was bad. It’s an incredibly slow puzzle “platformer” where you have to collect a bunch of treasure using pikmin you find in the level, it’s laggy even on a n3DS, and even though the point of the game is to collect enough treasure to leave, if you do that they’re all like “by the way, you still have to beat the final boss” so the entire auto-collecting side game you put your pikmin into is entirely pointless. This is honestly the worst 3DS game I played this year.

Hollow Knight [PC]

So I’m normally not that great with the games-that-are-pretty-dang-hard, and this was no exception. That said however, I did get pretty far (probably) before I got to a boss fight I just couldn’t beat (It was an onslaught of rolling knights in the raining city or something, it’s been a while). And after that I tried finding more power-ups and stuff to help, but I had to set it down after getting bottlenecked there. That being said, I can very easily see why people like this hardcore metroid-vania platformer, and would still recommend it if you’re into the Dark Souls style of high difficulty and mechanical mastery in other genres.

Axiom Verge [PC]

This is another Metroid-style game. I really liked this one as well, especially how its power-ups weren’t the traditional “You jump higher now” traversal power-ups. It really has a nice atmosphere and theme that still feels alien and metroidy while also feeling like the glitchy world by giving you weapons and movement abilities that let you glitch and change the environment around you. I really liked it! My only real complaint is the bosses get really challenging through a result of eventually figuring out what weapon and strategy is was designed for, and there are some areas that I was completely lost trying to find where I was going next, but all in all it’s pretty solid.

Octodad: Dadliest Catch [PC]

I normally really hate games where the focus is “lol, you can barely control your character! hahaha.” I actually really liked this one; it isn’t hard to get the hang of it and it’s really funny and still enjoyable at the same time. I rarely actually felt annoyed at the controls. I had a ton of fun with it, even if it was a little short.

Kirby Star Allies [Switch]

My complaints are very much the same as everyone else’s here; it’s a pretty okay Kirby game, but it lacks real challenge and is pretty quick. the real “star” of the show is playing the game with different characters, but since you can’t do that until after you play through as Kirby, by that point it’s either grown on you or hasn’t. The best part is the unique levels they made for the DLC characters, Gooey, Marx, Dreamland buddies, etc. Those are a ton of fun. If you like Kirby games, this one’s no Super Star but you’ll likely love all the attention to the free DLC characters and it’s not bad by any stretch.

HOB [PC]

It’s a 3D, top-down Zelda style game with an emphasis on some platforming elements. The world is wonderful, definitely the Aesthetic with clockwork worlds that Spiral Knights wishes it could’ve had. I actually had a ton of fun with it. The secrets and exploration were great, combat is ehhhhhh but that’s not really the focus. It’s a good time, If you like Zelda but with some puzzle platforming and great atmosphere, check this one out!

Poi [PC]

This is a Unity 3D platformer that attempted to brush off the Unity, and does an alright job with being mechanically tighter than most, but still has the Unity feel. Controls are a bit loose, could’ve used a lot of polish, but honestly this scratched the 3D platformer collect-a-thon itch for a bit and I actually 100% it. You have to love 3D platformers like Sunshine or Banjo Tooie to be able to like this, but if you do it’s a pretty fun romp.

Princess Remedy In a Heap of Trouble [PC]

This is a fun, short bullet-hellish game with an old-school Atari aesthetic. It’s pretty fun, but honestly I like the mechanics in the free game better (though this has more content). It’s fun, it’s funny, it’s quirky (and kinda short), try out the free game and if you like that one give this a try! The main difference is the “date” mechanic, where people you heal can join you to give you a different special power from healing, to various kinda of bombs, time freezing, homing bullets, etc. Once you find one though, it’s hard to convince yourself to try something else.

Splatoon 2: Octo Expansion [Switch]

This is Splatoon 2′s expanded hard/challenge mode. I’m a big fan; a few of the challenges are eh, but overall the aesthetic and branching map structure are super fun. The expanding on the lore and bonuses are also great; even though earlier I don’t normally go for the extremely hard, I found myself 100%’ing this. There’s a really tough challenge at the very end of all that, and I would say If you liked Splatoon 2, pick this up. It’s the expansion of Single Player that it deserves, though prepare for a few frustrating challenges.

... But now you have to pay for a terrible service to play it online so keep that in mind...

Celeste [Switch]

This is a fucking great game and you should buy it. It’s a challenging (very hard) platformer in the line of super meat boy and maybe even I Wanna Be The Guy, but this does it extremely right. restarting is very quick, the controls are incredibly tight, and the levels are genuinely clever and fun.

The story is also really solid, and I can’t recommend the whole package as a solid game.

Grow Up [PC]

This is the sequel to Grow Home, a game I’ve quick-reviewed a long time back. I liked the whole explore a whole planet and find some neat stuff, however the challenges are reliant on some weird procedural animations which don’t necessarily cooperate. It kinda overstays it’s welcome as a result, though the open nature of it is really fun. I have a hard time recommending this one, but it’s still a pretty solid romp even if it fights you a bit.

Sonic Mania Plus [Switch]

Having 100% the base game which I highly recommend, I was expecting a lot more things to do with this. Encore mode is fun; I really like how you can change up your characters and have to adjust on the fly. The new special stages are tough but fun, but the pinball minigame is.. not good. Gets old pretty quick. additionally it doesn’t add much after encore mode. Might and Ray have abilities that meaningfully add some neat gameplay stuff, but after how great the base game was, I was expecting a little bit more. That being said, the DLC is a nice bonus for the base game and you can’t really go wrong with it.

Lovely Planet [PC]

So I made a point to only play this game when I was drunk. The first few times I happened to be when I played it, so I stuck with it. This is a quick-restarting FPS with a focus on perfect shots and maneuvering to destroy all the target and get to the end as soon as possible.It’s hard as balls but really silly, so if you’re into perfectionist gameplay it’s worth a go. Probably not drunk tho.

Ever Oasis [3DS]

IIRC, this came out at a time where there was a lull in Nintendo games, or at least 3DS games so this one was very much skimmed over. It’s a mix between a town management sim and Zelda-style dungeon crawling and resource gathering. On paper, and even somewhat in game, this is a cool idea; you get townsfolk who can go with you on missions, each with their own abilities, and what you get outside of the town is used to help expand you town, which will buff you/your townspeople's abilities to go further in dungeons.

In practice however... they don’t really mesh. The limitation of 1 item per party member and items being locked to specific people you need to find, going to dungeons is a chore as you need to find out which characters you need to actually play (often not your best). Meanwhile, time passes so quickly and your town’s shopkeepers run out of resources so quickly, it’s a full time job to keep up the town and then you run out. They mitigate this near the end game by have the ability to make parties out of townspeople who can’t own shops, which are very rare. The ending is good up until the last moment where they do a thing that doesn’t make sense to get some points for emotion but... It just doesn’t work to me.

All in all, it has a demo to show how a dungeon works, and if you like management AND what that dungeon has to offer, go for it. Otherwise, the setting and character design are great but not enough to really hold interest

Q.U.B.E. 2 [PC]

The First game was Portal-esque in that you navigated the first-person Cube puzzle maze without any dialogue while manipulating the chambers with a variety of cube-spawning and extending abilities. You had to piece out and interpret the story yourself. This is the opposite; there’s a lot of dialogue, story set-pieces, and it’s bizarrely paced. You’ll get through most the game in like an hour, but then the last 2-3 chapters are the bulk of the game. Those are pretty fun, but the game is still incredibly short and I liked the tone of the first better. It’s short, it’s not bad, but it doesn’t really stand out.

NES Classic 

So I dunno if I love or hate this thing. It’s great because it’s an official NES with controller and emulator and gives me the opportunity to play a buncha games I hadn’t before, but the controller cable is too small, the damn thing has trouble getting enough power (EDIT: This was actually my aparement’s faulty wiring, though if you aren’t supplying it with enough power the sound won’t work either), and this things existence is probably part of the reason we’ve not seen a proper virtual console support on Switch. You can hack it to be able to upload other ROMs to it, which is neat (I haven’t done that), but ultimately it’s worth looking at the games and asking yourself: Do I really want to play most of these? Do I really want to buy this when I’ve already bought most of them?

SNES Classic

This is the same as above but more expensive with less games... But to me is a better value. It has a better selection of games (in my opinion), though they could’ve included some better ones. It still has the power issues (which are overcomable easily) but comes with 2 controllers with longer cables. Also StarFox 2 is a very nice game. I’d recommend this more than the NES Classic, but again, weigh what’s in it vs what you actually want to play if you can’t already

WarioWare Gold [3DS]

This is a compilation game done right. It has the WarioWare charm and the voice acting adds even more to it. The microgame selection and adaptations are wonderful, and honestly I don’t have any complaints. It has changed everything to fit in one of 3 (+2 smaller ones) categories: Mash, Twist, and Touch (+ blow and short). These are normally separate by category, but near the end they mix and match and even do some fun mix-up with it in the very last rounds and bonus game modes.  Whether your first WarioWare or a veteran, this is in my opinion the best in the series, and I would suggest you give it a go.

Monster Hunter World [PC]

So this one is hard. I really wanted to like it, and after playing Dauntless I thought I would. I even promised friends I would play it with them frequently and keep up but... between friends being able to play when I couldn’t and the game’s wonky controls and online issues, I was falling behind and getting frustrated. That’s kinda side stuff; if I really liked it I could’ve caught up. The truth is, I liked Dauntless better because while it was also very buggy, the combat was just a lot more straightforward and responsive. Monster Hunter seemed like Dauntless with a bunch of annoyances added onto it. There are tons of collectibles and recipes, weapon sharpness is entirely pointless when the monsters run anyway to give you breaks, the weapons I played seemed sluggish to attack with, and monster attacks were unclear a lot of the time. Everything just felt like a pain in the ass or waste of time to deal with and put a lot of focus on inventory management or grinding, and to me the core game you would do that for just wasn’t there.

Like I enjoyed the free roaming and exploration, but the fighting is just not for me and that’s the whole point of the free roaming and all that. I feel bad about not liking this after enjoying Dauntless, but I just am not into Monster Hunter and will be skipping the series from now on.

Katamari Forever [PS3]

I got this one thinking it was a compilation game of all the Katamari games!

It was not. It’s actually the hardest Katamari game... Which kinda surprised me about how much of a dick they are when you start out since their controls are incredibly weird and unintuitive (you get used to them) and anything short of perfection will get the Kings to any where from passive aggressively imply you did poorly or just straight out call you awful and not to bother.

Here’s the part where randomly in the giant text post I just completely break whatever I was talking about because I’m 95% no one actually reads this so for shits and giggles the first person to reply to my tweet where I posted a link to the blogpost stating that they found this paragraph will get a free me replying back to that tweet saying “nice” back. An enticing gift amirite? Anyway continuing on.

That being said, it’s pretty fun after all that; there are one or two levels designed to be super annoying but the ones where you play the core game of quickly building your Katamari are for the most part very solid. This is for existing fans of the series, but i had a pretty good time with it after I got past the barrier to entry.

Shantae: Half-Genie Hero: Ultimate Edition [PC]

I’ve talked about liking Shantae before on this blog; I mentioned that I liked Pirate’s Curse but the fact that side missions and collectibles were actually required for game completion. This Shantae looks great and all, but they completely tossed out the open-like nature and makes it a series of linear levels that you have to revisit at least 2-3 times to find the stuff that should’ve been off somewhere in a different series of areas and optional that’s really just slightly out of reach due to a power up you arbitrarily find after the level you needed to use it in ends. Dungeons are completely gone; the game literally is just “go right” and remember all the little things you couldn’t get to for when you have to backtrack over and over again.

That’s just the base game, and even with all that said it’s not a bad game, it just doesn’t really feel like a Shantae game anything other than aesthetically. I spent a few hours trying to 100% the base game, but after getting 99% and discovering I had to backtrack yet again to a snake merchant to trade for dances just to use them once and trade back, I just had 0 interest in getting the final percent. There are also a variety of different takes on the same campaign where you play as Shantae in different costumes with different abilities, Risky, or even Bolo + Skye + Rotty, and again those look fun but... I don’t really want to play the same game another 10 times.

Dragalia Lost [Android]

This is Nintendo’s first jump into mobile with a new IP, and while it’s definitely banking hard on more traditional gacha mechanics (you can get 5 star items instead of Hero characters only), it’s definitely not bad. It’s pretty generous with stamina and resources, at least when you start, and my only major complaint is how you seem to hit a wall in terms of how long it takes to really progress about a week or so of playing every day in. And it’s quite a wall; there’s quite a lot of grinding needed once you get to chapter 6 (the current final chapter that really feels like just the end of a prologue (Edit, they recently added chapter 7)), so you really need to like it. The levels are kinda simple as well, though there’s a maze-like area in the story that’s a bit more clever so it’s a start at least. All and all, it’s worth a try, but if you don’t like the top-down brawler after the first world, it’s not worth forcing through gacha mechanics for; especially since after you complete normal story mode, all you’re going to be doing is grinding to get through hard and the summoning currency gets scarce fast. For reference, getting enough to be able to challenge the High Dragon quests and not immediately die in them takes 2 months of grinding specifically for that purpose if you use your stamina optimally, which you won’t because events are more fun anyway

Overcooked 2 [Switch Download]

So this is actually really fun with a friend or 3; and that’s where it really shines. Sure, you can do it single player but it just doesn’t feel as fun. This is a sort of quick time-management game where you have to frantically run around cooking various recipes before they run out of time, to get a star rating at the end. There’s some bad levels, but the majority are really fun and it feels very fair even in single layer; I always think at the end regardless of the rank that I could’ve managed my dudes to do even better. The only real complaint is the loading times seem... unnecessarily long. Especially for restarting a level. It’s nothing too bad though.

Luckily this has online multiplayer, so I highly recommend picking this up on a platform that your friends have it on, ie Steam. I got it on Switch and in hindsight since I strongly dislike Nintendo’s online service I really wish I had gotten like a 2-pack on Steam. That’s not a complaint with the game though; I really liked it!

Super Mario Party [Switch]

Probably the best Mario Party in a very, VERY long time. This is going to be a longer review. I played this first with Keewy and his roommates and we had a great time in every single game mode (except online).

The Mario Party mode is really good; they’ve shrunk the map and reduced how much stars cost to 10 coins, but 10-15 turn games can still take an hour to an hour and a half. This makes it a much simpler, easier to get mode, but the real star here is them bringing back the Ally & character dice mechanic from Mario Party Star Rush (had it’s good moments, but was on 3DS so that’s it for that). Each character can roll a normal 1-6 dice, but they also each have a unique die that has different numbers on it. These are for the most part balanced; character with higher numbers on their dice also have downsides instead of a 1. 0′s, losing coins, and in some cases gaining coins (because you still don’t move), and it adds a level of strategy to it where otherwise it would be just “roll and hop for the best. That’s what it is still, but sometimes you can choose. You can also pick up other characters who will help you in minigames, give you the option to roll their die, and add 1-2 spaces to your roll. It’s super fun.

The River Rafting mode is 4-player co-op, and it’s pretty fun as well your first run through. Not single player though; this very much shines with 4 people. However, because there are only like 8? 4-player co-op minigames, you see every game on your first run so it doesn’t really hold up after your first couple runs.

The dance mode is great; it’s like Rhythm heaven but Mario Party themed. Again, these minigames are really fun, but once you play through all 3 difficulties, which takes about 10 minutes, there aren’t any you haven’t played. 

2v2 is ripped straight out of Star Rush, which is a great thing. Again, don’t play this with a cpu on your team at least. As far as I can tell, even in Mario Party mode, CPU’s make the same brain-dead decisions on the boards regardless of their difficulty level. Anyway, this has the same 4 boards but opened up vastly; You now roll, combine it with your partner, then add any allies you may have picked up along the way’s 1-2 rolls and other bonuses. The point is to land on the starspace and buy it, and it’s just a good time to see the strategy involved with either going for the stars, allies, or secondary goals. By far the best alternative Mario Party gameplay style in a while (way better than Island Tour’s linear maps and 9-10′s Car mode), but again there’s only the 4 maps.

So I guess my only true complaint is that while there are a lot of minigames, they’re split so much over the different modes they don’t feel like a lot and you see repeats frequently. Additionally it would be nice to turn on/off the bonus stars at the end and other options involving maybe skipping some of the cutscenes (star moving, places changed, etc.). All in all, the best and most interesting Mario Party in a long, long time. I highly recommend it if you have a friend to pick it up with.

Just Shapes & Beats

Got this game for a bit of random multiplayer. It’s a pretty fun, music based bullet hell game all about staying alive through the song while crazy stuff happens on screen. The story mode doesn’t overstay its welcome, but there’s also plenty of content and challenges for those who are so inclined, and only one of the levels felt utterly, bullshitingly unfair (which is really good with bullet hells) so It’s a fun time if you’re into top down bullet hells, and better with a friend in challenge mode

Pokémon Let’s Go Eevee [Switch]

I could write a dissertation on this game and how it’s neither good or bad; it’s just kinda... there. Some aspects are incredibly disappointing; the capture mechanics are absolute garbage, forced motion controls are atrocious, player/npc animations and interactions are completely stilted and lazy, the world is very bland vs Sun and Moon, the performance in handheld mode drops frames sometimes which is unacceptable, there’s almost zero post game, and even more. It’s by all means an HD reskin of a Gameboy game running on their crappy 3DS engine.

But there’s a lot of good here as well; seeing pokemon in the overworld is amazing and should be the case in the series moving forward, partner pokemon (eevee) are fun and fucking adorable, riding pokemon is great, having fast captures makes chaining a really fun mechanic, Having some of the E4 and Gym leaders interact with you during your quest makes the world interesting, connectivity with go is very limited but still good, having only one pokemon be obtainable only once in the game is a welcome and frankly overdue change in the game, removing breeding/abilities/held items really streamlines the mechanics and makes the game more enjoyable in a lot of cases, and I could go on.

I’m not going to recommend it, but I mean if you liked any pokemon game you’re definitely not going to not have fun with this one, even if the randomness in the capture mechanics frustrates you to no end

Super Smash Bros Ultimate [Switch]

So I mean it’s smash bros. Not much really to say about that, it’s pretty good. I kinda like Smash Bros not just for the multiplayer but the single-player as well, which is why Brawl is still my Favorite so take that as my approach here. The normal gameplay is fine, though the input buffer feels wonky at times and some characters are much harder to play against than others, which in combination with the sheer amount of characters makes it very difficult to get the hang of and counter accordingly, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’s just the barrier between playing casually and playing a bit more seriously feels sudden when randomly coming across characters that have inherent advantages from being wonky. Cloud for example seems to have a move for evertyhing, can spit out attacks very quickly, and if you try anything silly they’ll just charge a better move, and then randomly fighting a Ganondorf is like “I hope they don’t know how to read you because you can die at like 35 from a single fuck up”

The Single Player content though was... Disappointing. Not nearly as bad as Sm4sh, but it seems like they spent so much time putting as many characters and stages in the game as possible that they realized they wouldn’t have time to do old game modes the same way, so they made a system which allowed them to make custom smash battles with weird attributes and built the entirety of the bonus content on that. There’s really only adventure mode which is just a progression of Event Matches which gets somewhat stale and repetitive quickly, Mob Smash is just not really that fun past your first run or two, All-Star Smash is actually near impossible and not even rewarding, Classic does one or two cool ideas with routes but they clearly got lazy with a lot of characters there too, and the only platforming challenge in the game is the bonus level which takes 30 seconds and never changes.

Their Online mode is unacceptably bad and lacks options for random fights as well, and given that they’re charging for it this is just flat-out unacceptable. Buy it if you like playing Smash for the Multiplayer (which is almost everyone), but this is a hard pass if you were expecting a large amount of interesting content like Brawl’s Adventure mode had. Or are incapable of learning past a certain point, like me.

Katamari Damacy Reroll [Switch]

So after having played Forever earlier in the year and hearing how much praise this got, I had very High expectations! Unfortunately the controls are still ehhhhh and the game is surprisingly short; I beat it over the course of a 4ish hour flight. It’s definitely a lot nicer to you than Forever is, but in terms of amount of content it’s not aged well. If you’ve not played it before, pick it up on sale, but as far as I can tell this outing doesn’t add anything new to the original and it’s just a straight up re-release

Mario Tennis Aces [Switch]

So does anyone actually look forward to Mario Tennis Games? The past two have been husks of content and this one’s not really much better. The charging mechanic is interesting, but doesn’t feel that consistent or fair in some scenarios, but like was anyone waiting for this to get announced? Or is this just a “safe” series that sells okay and pads out the library for quick cash?”

It’s weird that they knew the Adventure mode was something fans really, REALLY wanted and touted it as some huge deal, even advertising it with a cool pre-rendered cutscene, and the whole mode with all challenges turns out to be at most a couple hours long, repetitive, and only actually has the two cutscenes (the 2nd being like 10 seconds). They made some silly RPG level up mechanic which didn’t feel like it made any difference, you can’t change your character so you’re really only learning how Mario plays, and it does a really poor job of explaining the different kinds of shots to you so it’s not even good for learning the game. I wasn’t expecting an experience worth telling for generations with the plot either, but even that gives up on itself; Luigi is possessed but he doesn’t do anything the whole game until you fight him, not even with the 3/5 power stones you have, and these power stones you spent the game collecting don’t do anything or matter because Bowser comes out of no where and “takes” the racket and power stones and challenges you to an admittedly fun boss fight. Not in a cutscene mind you, you’re just told this happens. It’s just lazy.

The game has some visual issues too; it’s missing any sort of stylistic flair and honestly just looks like an up-res’d Wii game, though with smoother models. Shadows flicker and cut through textures, and something weird’s going on with anti-aliasing that makes everything look blurry as hell too. I will say props for going to the effort of making tennis costumes for every character though; so that’s more effort than what went into Ultra Smash.

If you’re a huge, HUGE fan of Mario Tennis, go nuts. But uh, yeah this isn’t really worth your time for the price otherwise

Starlink: Battle for Atlas (Starter Pack) [Switch]

Yeah so it’s rich coming from me, but honestly this game is only hindered by the physical toys. As far as I can tell you can only play as generic Mr. No Personality or Fox, and then you only have the two options for weapons. The game could get interesting combat-wsie with the combinations of ships and like I think 14ish different weapons? But with just the starter pack you run through what the game has to offer pretty quick.

It is interesting though how I very rarely play Ubisoft games and hadn’t played one since their open-world formula milking, but right away I could tell that it was a Ubisoft open world game. There’s a lot to do, a lot of planets to explore, movement is fun and surprisingly easy, combat is pretty straightforward and has potential, but the key thing is that there’s like 30-50 facilities on each planets with like 4 different types of objectives (3 of which are “kill the same bad guys immediately here”), and you can spend hours on one planets doing some minor variance on that same thing over and over and over.

It’s a pretty good start in terms of base mechanics for what would be a cool system for an open StarFox game (and I know it wasn’t trying for that) but the repetitiveness of exploring, frankly pathetic writing in terms of characters, and locking a lot of the interesting content behind toys detracts from the experience. It’s definitely not un-fun, but after clearing 4 planets and seeing that’s just what the game is doing I don’t have any interest in continuing.

At least other than to see StarFox, because Ubisoft did them better justice than Nintendo has in years.

Best Game I Played in 2018: Celeste

Easy choice here, Celeste has a wonderful story, looks gorgeous, plays like a dream and managed to be an incredibly challenging platformer that didn’t make me lose my patience ever, which is AMAZING considering how little patience I have whenever I fail at a game.

I was going to pick the best game that actually came out in 2018 but honestly it’d be between like 4 games that I had gripes with in some way or another, so i’m going to say Overcooked 2 is pretty fucking solid and leave this whole run on sentence in the heading font because why not it’s my dead blog I can do whatever the fuck I wan-

Anyway that’s it. Hope everyone had a good year

Why does cutting help people feel better?

Gee, the light-hearted easy questions that I love to wake up to. *rubs face tired*

For the record: I can not answer for “the people”. Every person is different. Every person copes differently. Every person has different reasons for doing something. I can always only answer for myself.

And since this is most definitely going to be oversharing in the more sensible way, I’ma cut here. ...inappropriate pun not intended but I don’t know how else to phrase this.

It’s not attention, that much I can give you as a blanket answer. I absolutely loathe when fanfiction or media present the cutter as someone desperately seeking attention who wants others to find out - we do not want to be found out. We do not want attention. There might be some who do it for the attention, but the broad general majority does not do it for others, we do it for ourselves.

I started cutting when I was 14. Back then out of dumb teenage reasons, I suppose. I didn’t know what to do with the feelings bubbling inside me that were just too overwhelmingly all-consuming and dark. And I had seen it on TV. The edgy teen who dramatically cut themselves to make themselves feel better. I figured - hey, why not try it, since I have no idea what else to do.

Wow. This is harder to write than I thought it’d be. I’ve spent the past two months very decidedly not thinking about this to suppress the urge - I haven’t cut in over a year now and lately hasn’t been overly good for me. But I’ll try putting it together for you?

Cutting is the most liberating feeling I’ve ever experienced.

It’s like I, as a person, amtoo tightly wound. Like I’m... bound by invisible ropes that keep tightening and I can’t really breath and I’m in a constant state of being close to tears. And these feelings keep spiraling until it becomes just so much that I stop caring - that I can’t bring myself to get out of bed in the morning because what is even the point.

And then I cut. And it feels like... cutting those robes. With the burn of the cuts, it feels like all the stress and pressure just melts away. Usually coupled with crying. A lot of crying.

And in the aftermath, all that has made me feel so tightly wounded seems much more... insignificant.

I can face my problems with a clearer head when I cut, because it toggles my priorities. Prior to cutting, there is no order of priorities. It just feels like absolutely every negative thing that I am currently facing is closing in on me from all sides and I can’t breath and I can’t think and I just want to cry and stop existing so the problem will stop.

While I cut, I run every single dark thought in my head through my head again and I find... a different angle, or perspective of it, and the pain helps anchor my focus. Instead of all at once, I can focus on the pain and on the single thought that is going through my head and then I can actually sort them.

And in the morning, what had been suffocating before seems much more managable and I can breath again and I don’t feel like crying every second of the day.

I started cutting when I was 14 because that was the first time shit started piling up for me. And I tried cutting because it seemed to help the edgy teens on TV. And it actually did help.

It’s an easy and quick fix that I’ve been using to cope and suppress my problems for the past 12 years now. With that, I have answered your question. Why do people - some people, me at least - cut. But I really can’t let it stand like this, because this makes it sound like “HEY! Easy fix for all your problems, come on and try it!” - and that is not the message I intend to send here.

The problem is that it’s actually highly addictive.

Because when I first started cutting, I only did it when it became truly overwhelming and it helped, as described above.

But I wanted more. I wanted more of that liberating feeling. Those precious moments when all the world’s problems just melted away. That buzzing in the back of my head when I felt really calm, the peaceful and numb sleep that followed after cutting and crying.

So I started doing it more often, after smaller problems, even after smaller inconveniences.

I started cutting every night.

I started cutting every day.

Every time my mother would leave the house, I’d run to the sharp kitchen knives and cut until the sink was filling with blood. But it was still not enough.

It was like an itch I was trying to scratch, but couldn’t.

I needed more and more and it just wasn’t enough.

And I also needed it more often. It went so far that I couldn’t go without it and started self-harming even in public. It wasn’t like I wanted to attract anyone’s attention, it was just that I couldn’t go that long without it.

We were melting glass in chemistry class and I burned myself on the melted glass.

I always had sharp nails so I started scratching instead of cutting, because that was something I could do in public. Without anyone noticing. I just needed it.

That was when I started to notice that I might need help, because... what had helped me before had actually become a problem. It also wasn’t helpful that I had nightly suicidal thoughts.

So I went to my friends, hoped I could rely on them. I couldn’t. Back then, I felt betrayed by them. Now I know that it wasn’t fair to ask so much of 15 and 16 year old girls. If I didn’t know what to do, and I was the one with the problem, how could I expect them to know.

I have a friend, an online friend. My... oldest friend by now, because over years I lost contact to essentially everyone else I knew back then or before then. And she had become kind of my anchor back then. I don’t think she knows how much she meant to me back then.

But. Yeah. I learned to prioritize. Again. People I trust. I started shutting my friends and my parents out and yeah I guess the whole situation was not helpful with my abandonment issues at all, because I had never felt that abanadoned before.

But I pushed through it.

I tried stopping... many, many times. I occasionally lasted a couple of months. But when pressure would rise to high, I’d still resort to cutting - because it’s a quick and easy fix. I just... stopped allowing it to become all-consuming.

I’m very much aware that that is not the ~right~ way to go about it. And if you cut, you should go and seek professional help. That is the advise I have always and will always be giving to someone asking me. That is the message I convey when I handle the topic in my fics.

Do as I say, not as I do, please. Because I know my way of coping is unhealthy.

So, yeah, I hope that answered your question in some ways. I’m sorry if it didn’t. Also sorry for the oversharing, but there is certain things that go into properly explaining the mechanics.