#and if I wanted a turtleneck and a slightly cropped cut I would need a whole different one. one of the two won’t work.

[sunsoak]

If I was RICH I would dress SO WELL

[pali-writes-atiny-bit]

Of Haircuts and Hyunjin

Pairing: Hyunjin x afab!reader (Y/N)

Summary: Hyunjin badly needs a haircut, and you're about to be his new favorite hairdresser.

WC: 1.95k

Content Warning: Intended for 18+ mature audiences, MDNI! Suggestive Content. Let me know if I missed anything else.

The rays of the early morning sun shine down as Hyunjin pulls up outside of his favorite salon, District 9. The exterior is a sleek and modern building with an interior design of black and white. You stand behind the cleric counter tapping away at the booking computer's keyboard. You've just opened, so you're the only one here. As he approaches the cleric counter you greet him with a smile and a small bow.

"Welcome to District 9! You must be Hyunjin. I'm Y/N and I'll be your hairdresser today. Do you know what kind of style you're looking for today?"

He confirms and gestures to his hair with a chuckle "I think it's time to cut this a bit shorter.” All through dance practice the previous evening his silky black hair had been falling in his eyes and sticking to the sweat trickling from his temples.

You smile again and laugh "I think I can handle that. Are you interested in any color?"

Hyunjin finds himself caught up in your laugh - it's so warm and sweet and it lights up your face. Your rich brown eyes crinkle at the edges and he notices you have the cutest lips with a perfect cupid's bow.

After a moment he realizes he still hasn't answered your question.

"Color? Hmm..." He ponders. He hadn't been thinking about color but he could be persuaded. "What would you recommend?"

You study him for a moment - taking in the fine planes and angles of his face - before turning and leading him back to the hair wash stations. "I think you'd look very nice with a deep burgundy color."

He follows you a few strides behind and takes in your outfit. You're wearing a sleeveless black turtleneck crop top and a free flowing red skater skirt paired with black over the knee boots. He can't help the fleeting thought about how hot you look.

Once you reach your assigned wash sink, you gesture for him to take a seat on the plush leather. He does as instructed and reclines back so his head is over the sink. You turn the water on and adjust the heat until it feels just right.

You have to lean over him slightly to thoroughly wet his hair. He looks up at you through his lashes and is startled to realize that he can just catch a glimpse of your underboob. It's just a small sliver of flesh, but it looks firm and perky, and delicious. His tongue flicks out to lick across his upper lip. He flushes slightly at the trajectory of his thoughts and squeezes his eyes shut hoping you don't notice.

He opens his eyes again as you turn off the water and glances up at you. You give him a smile before turning to pump some shampoo into your hands. As you work the shampoo into a lather you also begin to massage his scalp and it feels heavenly. He closes his eyes again and lets out a small sigh of pleasure as he melts into the seat. 

You smirk at the sigh, you know it feels good - the wash step is everyone's favorite part about a haircut. While his eyes are closed, you study his face closer. His face is absolutely stunning, and you notice a beauty mark just below his left eye. You also notice the remnants of the flush that painted his face as you leaned over him earlier.   He may be your client, but it seems that neither of you are immune to the other's charms. And that, that makes you want to make him feel better.

Continuing your massage, you begin lightly scratching your short nails across his scalp. A bolt of pleasure zings down his spine leaving goosebumps in its wake. He shivers slightly and groans softly. The feeling of your nails at his scalp is transferring directly to his cock. He struggles  to quell his growing arousal. After all, the hair salon isn't the place to pop a full boner. 

Eventually, you remove your hands from his head and Hyunjin almost whines from the loss. You turn the water back on to thoroughly rinse the shampoo out before pumping some conditioner into your hands and applying it. After a few minutes, you rinse out the conditioner and squeeze the water from his hair. You wrap his hair in a towel and then purposefully lean over him again before tapping his shoulder and letting him know he can get up.

He looks up and catches another glimpse of that tantalizing flesh before you straighten up. He subconsciously licks his lip again before moving to get up. He follows you to your hair cutting station. He could just be imagining it but your hips look like they have a little more sway during your steps - your skirt swishing teasingly.

He sits in the barber's chair and you fasten a cape around his neck before adjusting the chair to the proper height. You prepare your comb and clippers with a #4 guard and say "well, shall we get started then?" He nods and you begin running the clippers through his hair. 

He strikes up a small conversation with you while he studies you through the mirror in front of you. He studies the way that top clings to your breasts. The way your skirt flares out from your waist. He asks how long you've been a hairdresser. You reply that you've been doing hair for about 7 years now, that your family doesn't approve, and that this is your first month with District 9. That explains why he's never seen you before, he'd have remembered.

You continue your movements while engaging in his idle chitchat, the words flowing effortlessly. Once his hair is uniformly clipped, you switch to your pair of scissors for the finishing touches. You spin the chair around to work on his hair in the front and Hyunjin promptly finds himself face to face with your perfect breasts. The barber’s chair is set to just the right height - all Hyunjin would need to do is lean forward and his face would nestle straight between your globes. The ones that he was just admiring in the mirror. Instead, he takes in a steadying breath through his nose. Notes of jasmine, amber, and a hint of citrus invade his senses. You smell smell warm, sensual and inviting. Rather than steadying himself, his exhale is even shakier. 

You raise your arms to trim some uneven pieces of hair and your breasts rise with them. Christ. He groans to himself. He can tell you’re not wearing a bra, and if he’s not mistaken, he can see your nipples. Hard tips pressing against the ribbed material of your top. He can’t help but lick his lip again as he imagines what it would be like to take one of those points between his lips - his teeth. 

As you're trimming with your scissors, you leave the ghost of touches along the shell of his ears, and down the back of his neck. Brief and teasing, but innocent enough to be passed off as accidents. The feather light touches heat his skin andsend jolts of pleasure shivering across his body. Between everything - his thoughts, your smell, your touches - he’s rock hard in his jeans. He’s never been more thankful that the cape covers his entire lap. He wonders if you know what you're doing to him. (You do - and you love how responsive he seems to be).

As quickly as you turned him to face you, you spin him back around. You set down your comb and scissors and brush off any stray pieces of hair that remain stuck to his shoulders. You lean down and whisper in his ear “all done.” His brain seems to freeze as he feels your warm breath caressing his ear. Before he realizes it, you’re standing up straight as if nothing happened asking "what do you think? Have you given any more thought to color?"

His brain is still struggling to catch up. Did he just imagine that you whispered in his ear? He clears his throat and studies his reflection in the mirror. He thinks the hair cut is perfect and just what he wanted. He shouldn’t have his hair in his eyes for a least a couple months. After studying himself for a second, his eyes slide to look at your reflection. His hair might be cut, but he’s not quite ready to leave yet. He swallows and replies "the cut is perfect and I think I'd love to get some color."

You grin and excitedly reply "you want to go with the burgundy?"

He nods and you clap your hands and head off to mix the dye.

He watches you go with a smirk on his face. Just what are you doing to him he thinks. 

You return and apply the dye to his hair before setting a timer and leaning your back against the counter in front of him. You cross your arms, pushing your breasts together and up. After seeing them up close he wants to touch them so bad. To feel how they fill his palms, and to test their weight. He has to clench his jaw and his hands into fists below the cape before he does something that would be very inappropriate. 

You catch him staring and give him a smirk and wink. "Do you like what you see?" Your voice is low and sultry.

"Darling, you have no idea," he groans. You might have some idea you think to yourself.

You unfold your arms to push yourself up to sit on top of the counter. As you do so your skirt rises slightly. Hyunjin’s gaze tracks straight to the toned thighs that are revealed a little more. You cross your legs, allowing him a flash of your panties as you do. "Well, I like what I see too,” you say as you not so subtly look him up and down. He flushes slightly but meets your gaze. His twin orbs seeming to mirror the desire you feel. 

You spend the next 30 minutes waiting for the color to develop and exchanging flirty remarks. When the timer goes off you lead him back to the hair wash station. You know exactly what you’re doing as you take your final chance to lean over him. You take your time carefully rinsing the dye from his hair. 

Afterwards, you lead him back to the chair for a quick blow dry. As you fan the heated air across his hair, ears, and neck he can’t help but think of the warm air that came from your breath. He stares hard at your reflection while you work - thinking of this experience and all the things he’d like to do to you. Glancing at him in the mirror, you catch him staring. 

Turning off the blow dryer you place it back in its holding slot. You lower the barber’s chair to it’s resting position and remove the cape from around his neck. "Alright Hyunjin, if you're done checking me out, let's go ahead and get you checked out!" You grin at him and he smirks back, taking a moment to not so subtly adjust himself. Your eyes flick down to the way he grabs himself through his jeans. It’s your turn to lick your lips. 

At the cleric counter he hands you his sleek black card and you ring him up. He signs the receipt and leaves you a big tip. You hand him a copy of the receipt. At the bottom is a hastily scribbled note.

In case you want to do more than look ###-###-#### - <3 Y/N

A/N: Thanks for reading my second fic, y'all. I left this one suggestive but let me know if you'd be interested in a part 2.

Also, my requests are open and I'd love to hear your ideas!

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

care less, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, implied taehyung x reader

summary: There are countless partings in this world. People come in and out of your life, impacts large and small. But there is one where you could care less. You really could. And that’s Min Yoongi, your high school ex-boyfriend, the one who took something from you and promptly disappeared, only to come back with a furious declaration, on the night you’re supposed to teach Kim Taehyung how to eat pussy.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, discussions about adult topics; mentions of slut shaming; reader is pansexual; rough angsty smut (fem reader, slight dom/sub themes, m-receiving oral, overstimulation, hair-pulling, cowgirl); regrets everywhere; non-idol!AU; exes-to-lovers; pianist, softsub!Yoongi

inspired by “I get mad when I see you, and even madder when I don't”, wet-haired Yoongi in Run BTS! 131, ONEWE’s song ‘소행성 (Parting)’, and you’re probably wondering how these things go together. 

–

"How do you eat a girl out?"

"I... what?"

"How," Kim Taehyung repeated, slower this time, emphasizing each syllable with his impossibly deep voice. "Do you eat a girl out?"

"Why are you asking me?"

Taehyung raised his eyebrows. "Because you've hooked up with tons of girls. You must have eaten out at least one of them." You blinked at him as he continued. "I figure you have a unique perspective because you're a girl whose probably been eaten out and whose eaten out other girls."

You put down your spicy chicken. "Is this why you offered to buy me lunch?"

Taehyung's giant brown eyes shifted around uncomfortably. "Look," he said in a hushed tone. "I took this girl on a nice date and then it got to the spicy bit–"

"Leading her on, yes, yes, continue."

Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you but ignored your comment, barreling on. "And she asked me to eat her out, but I didn't know what I was doing."

"An absolute tragedy for sex god Kim Taehyung," you mocked. He growled and threw one of his chicken bones in your direction as you laughed. 

"Oi, this is serious!"

You kept cracking up, taking a bite of spicy crispy meat. "Yes, seriously funny." He kept glaring at you, so you relented a little. "She didn't ask for the dick like everyone else?"

Taehyung pouted. "Well, she did, after I spent twenty minutes doing what she called, basically nothing," he scowled. 

You shrugged. "Then you redeemed yourself, so what's the problem?"

Taehyung crouched over the table, stabbing your plastic tray. "The problem is, she's gonna tell other girls I can't eat pussy."

"Nah, she won't," you chewed, relishing the spiciness of the chicken. "She'll be too busy daydreaming about your giant dick."

Taehyung frowned, obviously not believing you. You casually are another piece of chicken, watching him contemplating. He was wearing cream slacks and a beige sweater, casually handsome with his dark brown hair, long enough to curl around his eyebrows. His fried chicken was already demolished into bones. He always got his not spicy. 

You never understood that. 

"Why didn't you ask me to eat you out?"

You shrugged. "We were only hooking up. I wanted to sit on your dick like everyone else."

"Teach me."

Your fingers were turning bright red with the crispy breading on the meat. You could feel the tingle of the spice on your puffy lips and throat, a measured fire burning. You didn’t bother to reach for your drink. Better to lull in the fire for a bit.

"Taehyung, it's just practice."

"Then let me practice on you."

You sucked out a bit of chicken from your teeth as you gave him a disbelieving look. "Thought your policy was to never fuck twice?"

He shrugged. "Not technically a fuck? Besides, you're the Sex Teacher," he added with a snicker.

You rolled your eyes. "Ugh, don't call me that. Some dudes started calling me that just because I took some guy's virginity."

"You've probably taken several virginities with your track record."

"Speak for yourself."

"Do you or do you not know how to eat a girl out?" Taehyung asked, brown eyes boring into you.

You picked up the toothpick the restaurant had provided you and stuck it between your teeth. Brushed the crumbs off your flannel dress and picked up your tray, standing up. 

"'Course I do."

-

Thus, you were now in your apartment with Kim Taehyung, several days later, wondering why you agreed to this nonsense. 

"Do I just whip off your pants or what?"

You rolled your eyes, keeping a firm grip on your gray sweatpants. He had arrived in a long black coat and brown turtleneck, black billowy slacks. Kicked his shoes off and presented you with said question.

"What do I get out of this?" you grumbled, turning around and heading into your apartment, shivering a little because of your loose white t-shirt that you had cut in half ages ago, turning it into a crop top. It had a stain at the bottom, so what better way to fix it than chop it off? Still, you should have opened the front door with your hoodie on, but it would warm up soon with the door now closed. 

"What do you what? Money?"

"I'm not a prostitute, Taehyung," you muttered. "Even if you think I am."

"I don't," Taehyung said coolly. "But money happens to buy things, so maybe you want some to buy something for yourself."

You pursed your lips, grabbing your mint thermos of warm water. It was a bit weird, but you preferred warm water over most drinks, except soda. But you couldn't be binging on soda all day, unfortunately, so you tried not to buy it and stuck with the water. Kept you from getting diabetes. Damn you, weak human body!

"Nice nips."

You raised an eyebrow as you took a sip. You weren't wearing a bra. Your hard nipples were poking through the t-shirt thanks to the cold.

"Are they distracting your fragile mind?"

Taehyung smiled, dark curls around his teasing brown eyes. "No, I'm simply appreciating them. A lot."

You looked down. Taehyung opened his coat. You sucked in the side of your lip, seeing his bulge. Maybe he was too chill with you now. Ever since you two realized your sex partners overlapped, a strange friendship developed. You’d talk about it casually with him, as if you two were discussing Pokémon trading cards instead of one-night stands. He would advise you against so-and-so and you would warn him about who-the-fuck-ever. Of course, you two only figured that out after you sat on his dick, but, hey, it was a nice dick. Lived up to the hype.

Unlike Taehyung, you didn't really have any weird rules when it came to hooking up. You went with the flow, and if you were feeling it, then you did it. Didn't really matter who it was, what gender, if they wanted to be upside down on a park bench as you sucked their balls and they jacked off into their own face (happened once, was kind of interesting to be honest). Taehyung, however, had some kind of conquest thing going on, numbers and all that, and needed everyone to know he was good at it. Insanely good. Mind-blowingly good. 

Taehyung closed his coat, tilting his head. "Whatchu want then? Not another fuck. Something else."

Your doorbell rang. 

"Oh, for fuck’s sake," you muttered, slamming your thermos down and marching to the door. "What is this, a fucking zoo, I swear–"

You wrenched the door open. 

"Fuck you."

Slightly slurred, husky, deep. 

Okay, well, yeah, sure, after I teach Taehyung how to–

The black head of hair raised and your thought disintegrated into pure shock.

"I get mad when I see you," the man growled. "And even madder when I don't."

He was holding a half-full bottle of soju.

"I... what?" was your incredibly weak reply, because you were staring at the hunched form of Min Yoongi. Black hair longer than the last time you saw him, styled over a clean undercut, wearing a torn-up black bomber jacket and a green t-shirt, acid-wash jeans with giant holes, revealing his pink, slightly bruised knees. He was breathing hard, glaring at you. 

Accusing you. 

Suddenly the years without him felt like an eternity.

"Hyung?!"

Oh right. Taehyung existed. 

But you couldn't react, couldn't breathe, starstruck, awestruck, dumbstruck at seeing Min Yoongi at your doorstep. Yoongi cocked at eyebrow, looking past you, and Taehyung's body was suddenly pressed against your back, reminding you, yes, he was real, actually there, why was he there again? What was life?

"Hyung, holy shit! I haven't seen you in ages, since..." Taehyung's voice suddenly died, baritone vanishing into nothing. 

"Why the fuck is he here?" Yoongi grunted.

"I... was going to ask her to–"

"He was leaving," you interrupted, shoving Taehyung from behind you to in front of you. "Taking his coat and leaving."

"What?" Taehyung sputtered, brown eyes wide, confused, blinking rapidly. "Hyung, why do you have a bottle of soju–"

Yoongi clicked his tongue, very loudly. 

"Forget this."

He turned, but Taehyung grabbed his arm. 

Not you.

Taehyung stopped Yoongi. 

The world was so cold. Your arm outstretched but touching nothing, because Taehyung was faster, Taehyung was closer, and you were so very far away from Min Yoongi. Yoongi turned his head slowly, venom in his gaze. 

"Hyung."

Yoongi's eyes locked with yours, making you breathless. 

"I don't understand," Taehyung said quietly. "What's going on? I thought you didn't care about her."

Those cat-like eyes narrowed, expression cold and emotionless. "Is that what you told them?"

It was airless and then the world burst into flames.

"You didn't tell me until the last day," you hissed, curling your hands into fists, voice rising. "You told all your friends, but you didn't tell me until the last day, not until the very last second before you flew to fucking Europe to go to university for that fucking music program!"

Taehyung's eyes widened. "Y-You said she didn't care..."

"Fuck you, Min Yoongi," you snarled, every muscle in your arms tensing, remembering all the moments, the gentleness that turned to coldness, the last night and what he took from you, turning into years and years of not caring about anything, fucking everything in sight, anyone who said yes, trying to forget his kiss and his memory before he got on a fucking plane and flew time zones away, never trying to contact you after. 

"Fuck you for thinking you can be angry at me for any reason at all, fuck you for thinking I did anything, fucking anything, to deserve that shit, taking my fucking virginity and leaving me!"

"I didn't take your virginity," Yoongi spat back, spinning around, hair bristling. "You lost it to that–"

"Maybe you should have fucking asked me instead of believing stupid fucking rumors!"

The human body was useless, but also driven by emotion, and you didn't even feel cold anymore, years of anger piled up, rumors that you were a whore, so you became that whore, owning it, doing it all, because why did it fucking matter when everyone already thought that? Sex Teacher they called you and your first teacher was standing in front of you, completely clueless. 

Fucking idiot.

Yoongi glared at you. You glared back. 

Taehyung stood there, gawking.

Yoongi's eyes dropped. He shoved the half-empty bottle of soju into Taehyung's arms and pushed Taehyung aside, Taehyung flailing to prevent dropping the glass bottle, and closed the distance between you and him, and now you could see, older, more tired, still handsome, still the same dreamer from years ago who traced your fingers and placed them on the keys, slowly helping you play the notes even though you didn’t know jack shit, and you enthralled with his smile, his laugh, his dream of becoming a world-renowned pianist.

Yoongi grabbed your face and kissed you. 

The first was the scent of alcohol, a subtle sweetness on his lips, but alcohol nonetheless. The second was the softness, the faint flush of his cheeks paired with his lips on yours, dainty despite the strength in grip on your cheeks. The third. 

Heat.

The years-old iceberg of 'I-don't-give-a-shit' melting faster than the polar ice caps, sheets and sheets of ice crashing into the sea of emotions, youth and stubbornness combined, melted in his kiss, you grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking him in your apartment, Taehyung calling after you both.

"Um, guys? Hello?"

"Go drinking Taehyung," Yoongi growled and slammed the door. 

-

Taehyung held the half-bottle of soju.

What now?

What about his reputation?

He frowned. 

Maybe he should call up Park Jimin. 

Taehyung took a sip of the soju as he walked away. He made a disgusted face. Ugh. Why did hyung like such strong shit? The flavor was unique and rich, but his throat felt like a layer of skin was being sloughed off.

One would only drink something like this if they were depressed. 

Oh.

-

"Your reputation precedes you."

"Fuck off."

"You became quite a woman."

"And you're still an insensitive shit."

You yanked his jacket off and dumped it on the floor, fists back in his green shirt, biting his lip, kissing him hard, him gasping in your mouth, his hands on your breasts, kneading them through the t-shirt, fingertips brushing over your hard nipples, sparks of pleasure crackling through you. 

"I was trying to protect you," Yoongi snarled, just as angry as you, both frustrated at time lost, both knowing it was for the best, both realizing that his misunderstanding and your reaction was just shitty communication of stubborn youth and time past that couldn't reset.

But still. 

Anger doesn't care about reason. 

"Protect me, my ass," you scowled, dragging him into your kitchen, pinning him against the counter. "What do you think I am, emotional fragility queen?"

"You wouldn't have cared?" he shot back, gripping your shirt and flinging it up, sucking in a breath as he revealed your tits. 

"Obviously! Why would I spend years being a slut to forget about your stupid hands?" you scowled, grabbing his wrists, planting said hands on your breasts, shuddering at the cold touch, chilled by night air, not exactly the same hands as back then, but better, rougher, strength of a man and not a high school boy, thumb and index finger rolling your hard nipples. Once again, fistfuls of his shirt, shaking him aggressively through heavy breaths. "You and your stupid mouth."

Kissing him, not the same, but better, stronger, more intense, stained with alcohol and regrets, devouring your tongue hungrily, intertwining.

"It would have ended the same," Yoongi murmured, the hurt creeping in his grating voice. 

It would have. 

And that was the shittest bit.

Knowing that even if he told you earlier that it would hurt no less, knowing that you would have gone and fucked other people anyway, because even if you tried to make it long distance, it wouldn't have worked. Some people could do it, but not young you and young Yoongi, too immature to know the meaning of wait.

"Still gives you no right to believe the words of others instead of asking me outright," you muttered, bending him backwards on the counter with your weight and he was letting you do it, hands still glued to your tits. "Why would believe that shit?"

"Because it was easier to leave you that way," Yoongi admitted, shame flitting in his dark eyes. 

"Fucking shit, you're an idiot."

You already knew that. Guessed, after years of agonizing over it. Easier to be angry than understanding. Easier to feel pain than to acknowledge it. What could you do? Tell him not to go to Europe? Not when his parents, his family, his friends, his neighbors, fuck, the whole damn school was ecstatic and congratulatory for him, everyone except you, not because you didn’t want Yoongi to follow his dreams, but because you wanted him to stay.

With you.

Selfishly.

And so, it was so much easier to be mad, so much easier for the two of you to fight until he tumbled on top of you, kissing you, tearing off your clothes as you tore off his and the first time hurt, it hurt but not as much as you thought, maybe because there was so much adrenaline from the anger and because he was so careful and loving about it.

He really was.

And there was pain, but it was nothing compared to the pain you felt the next day and the day after, and the next month, years, numbing everything, agreeing to really stupid propositions like the thing with Taehyung, all because you knew and he knew, but you both chose to be mad over being reasonable.

You hauled Yoongi up onto your kitchen counter, him kicking the side of the cabinets to lift himself up, not speaking. One look in his eyes and you saw yourself reflected in them, so close to tears that you kept your mouth shut and he kept his shut, preferring the anger to the sadness.

Because deep down, you were so, so happy to see Yoongi again.

It didn’t discount any of the wrongs though.

You fumbled with the button of his jeans and his hands came to help, unzipping, fingertips tracing over yours, more agile than before, swifter than an amateur. You raised your head, locking your gaze with his.

Yoongi was panting, cheeks flushed, guilt consuming his features.

It stung.

You yanked his pants down unceremoniously, not caring right now about stupid young you and stupid young Yoongi, gripping his underwear and dragging them down, his hard cock springing up, bigger than you remembered, thicker, red tip twitching, still wanting it just as bad, not looking at his face and closing your mouth in on it, gripping his hips and pulling him closer for better leverage. His scent and moan encompassed you, your eyes shutting as your tongue circled around his hot length, swallowing it up, oh so good, so good, better than anyone else’s because it was the one you tried to forget, entranced by the way Yoongi’s cock slid down your throat and filled your mouth, hearing his ecstasy from your touch, gasps of pleasure as you began to bob your head up and down, tongue going from the bottom of the head, down the quivering veins, all the way to the base, nudging his balls with the tip of your tongue, a skill you learned from many, many blowjobs.

You opened your eyes and you knew your guilt was in them. Yoongi could see it with every mouthful of his cock disappearing into your lips, his eyes half-lidded and pupils dilated, empathizing.

“Yeah, so what if we’ve fucked other people?” he grunted, rolling his hips into your face and making you growl in your chest. “I could care less.”

Yeah, you could, and me too.

Faster and tighter, suffocating him with your mouth, hands flat on the counter, blowing him at the same spot you were eating a fucking salad two hours ago before Taehyung’s arrival and contemplating tongue techniques, back when your iceberg of uncaring was still intact but now it was part of the ocean of emotions once more, watching Yoongi unravel, rubbing his fists into the granite, crying out and arching his back, black hair fanning out with every harsh swallow and throat clench around the head, leaking pre-cum into your throat and throbbing into the roof of your mouth.

“F-Fuck me…”

He hissed out your name and snapped his chin to his chest, thrusting into your mouth, exploding, salty thickness coating your tongue and down your tight throat, you gulping it down with a choked gasp, his taste a part of you now after all this time, an edge of bitterness that you welcomed, who knew what the fuck he was eating before this, but you didn’t care, didn’t care, you had Yoongi’s cock in your mouth and every second was worth it.

Your tongue coated the head, collecting the dribbling cum and you swallowed that too, glaring at him. Lowering down once more, swallowing him to the base once again, him sucking in a pained breath at the sensitivity because your throat was unforgiving, constricting him as forcefully as you could, tongue sliding up, teasing right under the head, the thin skin that make Yoongi squirm and hiss under you, spreading the slit with the tip of your tongue. Yoongi slapped his palms onto the counter, clenching his jaw to avoid screaming.

But he didn’t stop you.

He simply watched you with pained eyes, letting you do whatever you wanted, thrashing under your merciless mouth, rutting the sensitive head against the roof of your mouth roughly, his body thrashing to try to get away, but still Yoongi said nothing, thin moans escaping his closed lips, even twisting his hips back and rocking them into your face to let you abuse him more, manhandling him to your heart’s content. You kept going, long agonizing minutes, strongly sucking the head, shoving it all the way to the back of your throat, teasing it with your tongue, swirling around and around, pressure, roughness, tightness, aggravating the sensitive skin until you saw Yoongi on the verge of tears.

He still didn’t stop you.

You retreated, your lips now only around the head, tongue ghosting over the pulsating, inflamed tip, drenching it with saliva.

“You deserved that,” you muttered.

“I deserve a lot of things,” Yoongi grunted, finally relaxing his shoulders and laying flat against the counter, panting hard, cheeks still flushed, staring at the ceiling.

Neither of you were saying sorry.

You gave him one last painful suck and he swore under his breath, but didn’t say anything else, biting his lip hard as you popped your mouth off his cock. For a few moments, there was nothing but oppressive, irate panting. Yoongi’s dick was still hard and sticking straight up, he himself spread out on your kitchen counter like a fucking buffet, still wearing his shirt and half-wearing his jeans. You were shirtless, tits out, gray sweatpants slung low on your hips.

“When are you going back?”

Yoongi was still staring at the ceiling.

“Don’t know.”

“Liar.”

Dark eyes flickered down.

“If you asked me five minutes ago, the answer would have been in two weeks.”

Your eyes narrowed, boring into his. “How many blowjobs have you gotten overseas, huh? One hundred? Five hundred?” Frustration, grief, vehemence, all rolled into one, turning your voice into ice, sheets of frozen water churning and reforming, snapping together one by one with each word, your hands coming up and digging your nails into his thighs, racking them down, bright red scratches in your wake. “How many people have you fucked? Do you think I’m fucking stupid, Yoongi?”

He gritted his teeth, screwing his eyes shut, fingers curling onto fists at the pain.

“I really thought you didn’t care,” was his distressed hiss.

You stopped; nails sunk into his pale skin, creating dark crescents with how hard you were pressing.

“I thought you would hate me forever.”

Your hands left his thighs, glaring scarlet lines of your pain on his skin now.

“And I thought it would get better, but it didn’t.”

His fingers uncoiled, one by one. Long, deft digits, practiced, trained, beautiful, crescents of pink from his own nails in his palm. Eyes opening, lash by lash, lifting, dark, pained, regretful, drifting down to you and his exposed, still-hard cock, just there, ignored, surrounded by scratch marks.

“I was mad that you didn’t try to contact me,” Yoongi mumbled. “And madder at myself for not trying to contact you.”

Ice cracking, melting off, crashing back down into the vast ocean of emotion.

You reached into your pocket.

Your name, tumbling from his lips, his eyes shifting to you.

“In between countless partings, the one I always remembered was you.”

You climbed onto the counter, sweatpants and underwear on the floor. Yoongi’s eyes widened in shock, so stunned that he couldn’t stop staring at you, knees, thighs, crotch – clean, you were always clean-shaven, but he didn’t know that, a habit you developed without him and now you felt weird with hair down there – and so he could see everything, wet lips glistening. Up to your waist, a pattern of small moles above your bellybutton that high-school Yoongi had danced his fingers over.

Saying, “My Milky Way, my galaxy.”

This was after you called him an insensitive bastard and he accused you of losing your virginity to some athletic jock kid, as if high-school you would ever have a chance with someone like that.

Up your tits, your collarbones, your face.

Determined.

Yoongi jumped, realizing you had wrapped your hand around his cock and pumped it a few times before rolling down the condom, angling your pussy above the purple-red head. He made eye contact with you.

“I can’t go back if you do this,” he whispered.

“Boo-fucking-hoo, shut your trap.”

You sank down and he clamped his jaw shut, veins on his neck popping out in strain as Yoongi tried not to cry, your previous ministrations amplifying the sudden hot, wet pleasure that overwhelmed him, you sighing in bliss as he filled you, nicer than before, better because you knew what to do now, relaxing your muscles before pulsing around him, his eyelids fluttering, whines in his throat, palms flat on the granite, such beautiful hands that you reached down and put them on your thighs, wanting him to touch you.

Dark brown eyes shaking, pupils dilated, fingernails digging into your skin.

“Isn’t that what you do? Use your hands all day?” you taunted.

He gripped your thighs tight, apology flashing across his features.

“You better not cum before I do,” you snapped, rocking your hips a little.

Yoongi sucked in a breath. “I’ll try.”

You leaned forward, one hand on the counter, the other closing in on his black hair. Twisting the black locks in your fingers, gripping so hard your knuckles were white, but you weren’t pulling on his hair, only holding it, but your eyes told him everything.

“You fucking owe me.”

Him staring into your blazing eyes.

“I owe you for the rest of my life.”

You rolled your hips into his crotch, hard, smacking your ass down on his balls and he whimpered, jerking his head to the side and pulling his own hair, whimper turning into a wounded gasp.

“Shut the fuck up. We both know you deserved that scholarship, you talented asshole.”

You began your pace, bruising and intense from the start, unforgiving, but you had already forgiven him, years ago, by yourself with no one else to know, now your hand in his hair with Yoongi writhing under you, causing his own pain flaring across his scalp because your grip was so tight, his hands on your thighs, his length sliding out and then shoved back in. You could feel him getting harder, swelling more, the sensation unbearable so he kept igniting the pain to prevent himself from orgasm. You made sure to let the maximum amount of your skin to hit him – clit on his crotch, pussy enveloped around his cock, the tip hitting your deepest, most pleasurable spot, ass smacking against his balls – so that even you moaned, shivers of ecstasy layering on top of each other, climbing notes of a song from long ago.

Now continuing.

From that night at your parents’ house that bedroom of painful and lovely memories, his hands on your wrists, telling you that he could go slow until you felt better, how could he not know? Yoongi just assumed it was because you weren’t aroused since you were so angry at him, and you never accused him of having any experience before you, and to be honest you didn’t give a shit; if that was society’s fault or your feelings for him, you didn’t know. It all seemed so foolish back then, stupid, why were you so attached to a high-school boy when there were thousands of other men and women out there, and you tried, you fucked them, but in the end.

In the end, it wasn’t the roars of pleasure or multiple orgasms or big dicks or sweet pussy that made you feel the same as you felt when you looked down at Yoongi, eyes rolling back, biting his lip so hard the skin was white, black hair bunched around your fingers, his fucking green t-shirt still on but you could tell every muscle was tensed and he was barely breathing, anything to prevent himself from orgasm, knuckles white on your thighs, clutching them so hard they would surely leave bruises, but you didn’t care.

Yoongi was a genius. He could play the piano like no one else.

Someone could be technically better, someone could be more experienced, someone could be more nuanced, but no one felt music like Yoongi felt music, no one loved piano like how Yoongi loved piano.

He deserved every cent, every experience, every year he spent overseas.

He seemed to feel your gaze on him and his eyes found yours, black pupils nearly overtaking the irises, sweating so bad that his t-shirt was soaking down the front.

“Hold on,” you breathed. “Hold on for me, Yoongi.”

He whined pathetically.

Did he love you as much as he loved piano or was it the soju talking?

Who are you kidding?

Yoongi would never love you as much as the piano.

You set your jaw and leaned down a little more, bending his cock the tiniest bit, more leverage to go harder, rougher, rolling your spine down, smack! Onto his crotch, Yoongi’s mouth flying open and crying out your name in shock, your knees screaming on the harsh granite but you didn’t care, fucking Yoongi for all you were worth, using every muscle and every technique you knew to apply as much pressure as you could, choking his dick. Yoongi’s hands jolted off your thighs, hitting your open thermos on the counter, both of your forgetting it was there this whole time, the double-walled, stainless steel, mint thermos.

It toppled and spewed warm water all over your thighs, your joined crotches, part of his shirt, probably leaking down his ass and onto the counter.

You yelped at the sudden unexpected wet warmth. Yoongi’s hips jerked up, wild moan escaping his lips and your pussy spasmed, orgasm plummeting into you, a sudden avalanche that made your eyes roll back and a guttural groan vibrate your chest, both hands inadvertently clasping and yanking on Yoongi’s hair, and he lost it, whining your name as he came, hard cock lurching and convulsing against your walls, shooting his load into the condom, his cries extending to wanton, pained moans. It took everything in you to at least loosen your fingers, spreading them on his scalp and holding his head as gently as you could, whole body shuddering, even your jaw, not able to say his name properly because your teeth were clattering uncomfortably against each other.

You closed your eyes.

Listening to Yoongi’s strained breathing. Hearing pain, sadness, his raspy voice from long ago, words in the seconds before you feel asleep in his arms from being worn out from anger and losing your virginity. All this time, wanting to believe it was silence, wanting to believe he said nothing, letting yourself believe in your lie to fuel your rage.

“I am sorry.”

You opened your eyes, lowering your chin. Yoongi’s dark orbs, glassy and spent, trying to focus on your face. His hand came up, still wet with the spilled water, and you realized you had pitched forward a little from the force of your orgasm.

His fingers danced on the small mole pattern above your bellybutton.

“My Milky Way. My galaxy,” he whispered softly.

Lovingly.

Guilt all over his face.

“I have to go back. I have performances, opportunities.”

You leaned down. “Stop lying, Yoongi.” Eyes locked with his and a smile. “You want to go back. Because you are an ambitious, talented asshole.”

You knew you were right. You could see it in his eyes, the quickness as he looked away, not wanting to face you. You slumped down, knees giving out, Yoongi’s cock half-buried in you, slowly softening, but it didn’t matter. You put your full weight on him, fitting your chin on his shoulder, not quite looking at his face, nose far too close to your fucking kitchen counter. Yoongi grunted uncomfortably, but didn’t tell you to get off. There was water everywhere and the mint thermos was on the tile floor and somehow neither of you had noticed. It must have made a very loud sound.

“I hate my job anyway. Might as well run away to a different continent for some stupid boy.”

“I can’t ask you to come with me.”

“I’m not asking.”

He chuckled.

“You really have changed.”

“Sucks for you.”

You felt his arms wrap around your waist.

“Guess so.”

-

“Why was Taehyung here anyway?”

“I was supposed to show him how to eat pussy.”

Yoongi blinked at you, holding a damp rag. Both of you were kneeling on the floor, naked, attempting to sop up the mess. “How?”

“He was going to practice on me.”

“I can give a live demonstration instead,” Yoongi growled, an edge possessive.

“Yeah, no, I think my night is booked. Emergency appointment.”

You picked up your kitchen towels and wrung them out in your sink, looking down at him, raising your eyebrow. Yoongi’s hair was messy and curled, wet from sweat and water. He gazed up at you. You saw him shiver. You kept your expression neutral despite your heartbeat racing.

“Have some catching up to do.”

--

masterpost

[noladyme]

La Cuervo - Chapter 8

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on on Mayans M.C. are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

8.

With firm hands on her hips, Angel led Nina in front of him; only letting go to hold the door for her to enter the clubhouse. Inside, they found both clubs neck deep in their first beers. Tig was seated on a chair with Chucky on his lap; bouncing the little smiling man up and down on his knee, while he hugged him tight. “I missed you so much, Chucky! Are they treating you ok? Do they feed you?”. He looked at Hank who was laughing at the scene. “You know, he likes his eggs sunny side up. And you need to make sure he doesn’t drink diet coke. It upsets his tummy”. Letty had showed up while she was getting ready, and was seated by the bar nursing a coke; Coco hovering over her, and giving any Son who looked in her direction a death-glare. Leticia was wearing a turtleneck, as she’d been told. The fact that it was a crop-top didn’t seem to matter to her.

Nina pulled at Angel’s cut to make him lean his ear down to her lips. “I’m gonna go spend some time with my other family, before VM rolls in, and I have to pretend not to know them”, she said. “Please don’t get all macho again”. “Can’t promise anything”, Angel said, and placed a possessive kiss on her neck. She pushed him away, and went to sit down with her brothers. After taking a chair between Rat and Happy, Ratboy gestured at her neck. “You got a little something…”, he smirked. Letty jumped off her chair, and handed Nina a pocket mirror, to examine the hickey Angel had left there, just below the one he’d made the day before. “Shit. What are you; 13?”, she growled at Angel. He smiled smugly, and grabbed a beer, before going over to stand by EZ.

Rat gave Letty a shy once-over, and Nina patted his arm. “Don’t… Her dad was a sniper in Iraq”, she muttered. Letty smiled at Rat, before going back to the bar. “That’s her father?”, Rat whispered, and looked at Coco. “Yup…”, Nina replied. Coco took a huff of his smoke, and leaned against the bar; moving his cut so that his gun was visible. Rat swallowed thickly, and moved his focus back to his beer.

Happy elbowed her softly, and pulled out his phone, to show her a picture on the screen. “Wendy checked in”, he said. The picture was of Thomas with his face covered in chocolate. Abel was running in the background, wielding a supersoaker. Nina let out a soft sigh. “God, that kid looks like Jax”, she said. “Which one?”, Happy grunted. Nina chuckled sadly, and the biker put an arm around her. “Yeah… I know”.

“So, you’re coming back with us, right?”, Tig asked; having finally let Chucky go. “No, she isn’t…”, Filip said, having appeared at the table with a glass of scotch in hand. “What?”, Happy said, his expression suddenly angry. Filip sat down, and Bishop pulled up a chair next to him. The two presidents gave each other a knowing but hard look. “It seems our Nina has sold herself into servitude”, Filip said. Tig leaned forward and shook his head. “Nah… Nuh uh. What the fuck is this shit?”, he said. “She’s not some piece of ass for you to…”. “Relax, Trager. It’s not like that”, Bishop said. “Then tell us what it is!”, Quinn said. Filip gestured for Bishop to continue, an irritated but defeated expression on his face. “As you know, Vatos Malditos are coming to Santo Padre. They’re going to offer us money to help them search for Nina”, Bishop said. “You told them…?”, Tig roared.

The Sons jumped to their feet, hands on their weapons. The Mayans responded in kind, and it seemed that what had just been a nice get together, now was about to turn in to a massacre. Letty and Chucky dove behind the bar, and Nina got on her feet. She grabbed Filip’s glass, and flung it at the wall; smashing it into a thousand pieces. “Enough!”, she roared. “Fuck! It’s like dealing with overgrown children…”. She scowled deeply at all the men. “Sit your asses down, and listen!”. “Yeah, fucking listen!”, Creeper growled. Nina drew her lips back in a snarl. “Shut the fuck up, Creep; or I’ll superglue your dick to your balls!”. Creep looked dumbstruck. “Are you gonna let your girl talk to me like that, brother?”, he asked Angel. “Fuck, yeah”, Angel said. “Oh, and you and me are in the cage tonight”. Creeper sat down, cursing bellow his breath.

Once everyone was seated, and more or less calm, Bishop continued. “You know how it is… We can’t risk money and potential war for an outsider. You wouldn’t either…”. “I’m staying here, working for San Pad for a year”, Nina explained. “That way, the Mayans couldn’t hand me over, even if they wanted to. It would be against their rules, because I’ll be a part of the family here”. “And we’re supposed to trust that they won’t do it anyway… Why?”, Happy asked. “Because Nina does…”, Filip said, giving her a meaningful look. “Look, I don’t like this any more than you do; but as it is, I don’t see another way out. We brought our girl down here; put her in the care of not just another charter, but another club all together. I blame myself… But this is a better solution than all-out war”. The Sons all shared angry and defeated glances. “And after her year is over?”, Tig asked. “That’ll be up to Nina”, Bishop said. “She does good work around here. If she wants to stay…”. “Niña is family”, Coco said, getting concurring nods from the rest of the Mayans. Filip got to his feet. “We’ll deal with that 12 months from now. But you better treat her like a fucking queen, or we will come back down here, and burn this shit-hole to the ground”, he said. “I need a new drink”.

---

A few hours later, after Bishop had explained the plan of letting Nina disappear into the crowd to SAMCRO, the first guests began arriving. Nina rushed around, dealing out orders to the hangarounds who were going to take care of the guests that night. She was overseeing the setting up of the sound equipment outside the clubhouse, while simultaneously refilling the bar set up by the porch. Daniella had decided to show up, in spite of Angel’s rejection. She kept to herself; once in a while sharing some words with some of the other guests. Angel didn’t pay her any attention, though not for her not trying to catch it.

Suddenly, there was a roar of bikes coming up the driveway. Nina instantly froze in place, only to move again, when EZ came up to her, and pulled at her wrist. “You good?”, he said. “Is it them?”, she whispered. EZ looked towards the incoming bikers, and nodded slightly. Nina let out a slight gasp. She turned around, and saw a group of men dressed in denim cuts; none of them looking friendly. They got off their bikes and walked up to greet Bishop, and Filip; who’d followed him outside. The Mayans and the Sons all took their places on the porch, each with their own faction. The leader of the group stepped forwards. He was a brusque and serious looking man, with a long braid down his back. His eyes were cold, and she recognized the family resemblance to Gael. El Palo.

Angel shot her a short look, before looking at EZ. His eyes would have seemed indifferent to anyone else, but Nina could see what he was saying. We got this, querida; and; take care of her, brother. “They’re just gonna stare each other down a bit”, EZ said, trying to calm her. Nina nodded slightly, but was unable to control her breath. It was like someone had a vice-grip on her lungs. EZ looked down at her, and frowned slightly. “I need…”, she heaved. “Time to disappear”, he muttered. Slipping an arm around her shoulders, as if they were about to find a quiet corner together, he led her towards the trailer. Most of the people around them ignored them. It was perfectly normal for couples to get a bit frisky, and needing to release some steam at these kinds of parties. They passed a group of women chattering excitedly. Daniella was among them, and smirked when she saw EZ’s grip on Nina.

As soon as he’d opened the door, Nina stumbled inside the trailer, and grabbed her inhaler from the table. In her shaking state, she dropped it on the floor, and EZ picked it up, handing it to her. She took a hit, and felt her lungs relax. “I’m sorry”, she panted. EZ put a calming hand on her shoulder, and smiled. “You’re ok”, he said. “Just breathe”. Nina took a few deep breaths, and put her forehead on his shoulder. “Thanks”, she said. “Is one brother not enough for you?”. Daniella was standing outside the open door. Nina scowled at her, but didn’t reply; still too wound up to be able to form a proper comeback. Ezekiel went down to face Daniella, and stared her down. “If you wanna stay, behave”, he said. “Otherwise, get the fuck out”. Nina put down her inhaler on the table, and walked outside; closing the door behind her. EZ put his arm around her shoulders again. “Puta…”, Daniella mouthed. Nina shot her the middle finger, and let EZ lead her away.

The staredown seemed to be over, and all three clubs had scattered to enjoy the party. “I have to go take care of the grill”, EZ said. “Will you be ok?”. “Yeah…”, Nina lied. He squeezed her shoulder, and left her to go tend to his job.

She stood for a long moment, looking over the frivolities. Happy and Gilly were looking on, as Angel revved the engine of his bike by the gate separating the scrapyard from the clubhouse area. The Son looked impressed, and let a pretty girl crawl under his arm, and press against him. Hank was studying the tattoo on the arm of a VM. Coco was pulling Letty off a table, where’s she’d been dancing. Nina made eye contact with Filip for a second, and he winked at her quickly, before going back to nursing his beer, and the gorgeous brunette on his lap.

She went up the steps to the porch, and opened the door to the clubhouse, to go inside; when she bumped straight in to a denim-clad chest. “Perdóneme…”, a raspy voice said. She looked up, and locked eyes with a Vato, with inquisitive and cold eyes. She parted her lips – unable to speak – and let out a short, nervous breath. “Let me get this for you”, he said, and held the door open for her. “Thanks…”, she muttered, and walked by him as calmly as she could. Taza was seated by the bar, and when he saw her expression, his eyes flickered for a moment, looking at the VM-biker. “Yo, sweetheart. Get me a beer, would you?”, he called out. “Uh huh”, Nina croaked, and slipped behind the bar as fast as she could. She grabbed a Sol from the fridge, and placed it in front of the VP. Sala disappeared off to somewhere. “You’re doing good, kid”, Taza said quietly. She nodded, and tried to smile.

Tig joined them at the bar, and looked in the bowl of apricots. “I see you’ve let Nina take care of the snacks…”, he chuckled; while looking around to check that none of the VM who were spread around the room were listening. “You have so much to learn”. Taza patted his shoulder. “Educate me, brother”, he smiled. Nina handed Tig a beer, and wiped down the bar, as the two men began sharing stories. After a few shots with the VP's, she felt about as embarrassed as EZ must have felt, after Felipe had told her the story of how he wet himself on the Ferris wheel at a state fair. “… I’m telling you, Taza. Her face was as green as the absinth-liqueur she’d been drinking; and she was dancing on the bar to the national anthem”, Tig said. Taza roared with laughter. “Happy and I had to carry her to bed; and we came back to check on her, she’d snuck out the window of the dorm – the door was unlocked, mind you – and she was running around the lot demanding piggyback-rides from every patch in presence”. Nina cleared her throat. “I think I’m gonna go check on the bar outside”, she said. “Aw, am I embarrassing you, muffin?”, Tig said. “Yes”, Nina said shortly, and shot both men a smile, before grabbing a case of beer, and walking towards the door.

One the porch, she was met by the Vato she’d bumped in to earlier. He gave her unpleasantly leering once-over, before reaching for the case in her arms. “Let me help you", he said. “You don’t have to do that”, she replied. “I insist”, he said, and took the case from her. Nina gave him a polite smile, and gestured towards the bar by the garage. “I’m Sala”. “It’s over here”, she said, avoiding giving him her name. She was just a random hangaround, she kept reminding herself; no one special. She walked ahead of him, not wanting to make it seem like she was interested in having a conversation. Once they arrived at the fridge set up behind the table set up as a makeshift bar, Sala set down the case. She nodded at him. “I can take it from here”, she said, and went to open the fridge. The biker grabbed her arm, and made her turn around; getting a little too close for comfort. “Have someone else do it. Let’s go somewhere private…”, he smirked. “No thanks”, Nina croaked, and pulled her arm from his grasp; backing away. “I don’t think my…”. She didn’t know how to label Angel; it was still too fresh. “I’m here with someone else”. Sala frowned teasingly. “Come on…”, he said, and took a step towards her again. “You look like you like to have fun…”.

“Hey, mami. How are you doing?”, Angel said from behind her; placing his arm protectively around her waist. Nina almost gasped in relief. Happy came up next to them, giving the VM-biker his trademark stink-eye. “This your girl, Reyes?”, Sala said. “Yeah, is she?”, Happy said, looking towards Angel for a split second; and took a sip of his beer. Angel tucked Nina into his side. “Yeah… she is”, he said. “Want to make something of it, carnal?”, he asked Sala. A smile ghosted Happy’s face, and he met Nina’s eyes; nodding shortly. “Sala!”, someone barked from across the lot. Palo had been observing the interaction, a displeased scowl on his face. He nodded his head for Sala to come join him, and the Vato walked off; cursing bellow his breath.

“Thanks…”, Nina muttered. Angel looked down at her. “Ain’t nothing to thank me over”, he said. “He’s just marking his claim”, Happy said. Nina frowned. “Are you gonna pee on me next?”, she grunted. Angel winced. “Don’t tell me you’re in to that shit…”, he said. “That’s nasty”. Happy laughed, and patted Angel’s shoulder; before walking over to join Quinn at a card-game he had going on.

Nina pulled out of Angel’s grasp, and went to fill the fridge. He came up behind her, and grabbed her hips; kissing the back of her neck. “You know you’re not the only one here to do this shit, right?”. “Just keeping busy”, she muttered. “It’s a party. Try to have some fun", he said. “I have to finish this…”. “You have to look like you’re enjoying yourself". He turned her around, and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “You’re tense as fuck…”. She sighed deeply, and put her forehead against his chest. Angel waved for a female hangaround to come take over; before taking Nina’s hand, and pulling her with him, to go sit on the steps to the porch.

By the looks of it, everyone around them were having fun, but Nina found it hard to get into a partying spirit. She looked over at a table by the garage, where Bishop was deep in conversation with Filip. Palo came over to join them. They all nodded at each other, and the conversation continued with the VM president adding his inputs. Angel noticed Nina looking at them. “You afraid?”, he asked. “Only as much as the next possible murder-victim”, she muttered. He put an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close. His other hand went to her knee, and he let his fingertips draw small circles on the inside of it. “I know something that might relax you…”. She began to feel her cheeks burning, and bit her lip. “What’s that?”, she asked. He squeezed her thigh, and put his soft lips to her ear. “Watching me fuck up Creeper in that cage…”, he smiled. Nina let out a wanton sigh. “God, yes…”, she breathed.

Angel chuckled, and got up; giving her a hand to stand up herself. “Creep!”, he called out to the other Mayan. His tongue was down the throat of the red-head Coco had had some trouble getting rid of the week before. He pulled back, and looked at Angel. “What, brother?”, he asked. “It’s time”, Angel replied. Creeper gave the ginger one last kiss, and made his way to the cage. Angel went in the same direction, his arm around Nina’s waist.

---

A crowd gathered around the cage, as Angel and Creeper got their hands taped up. Nina let herself be mesmerized by the sight of her bare-chested champion, who was already jittery with adrenaline. Once Riz had finished with his hands, Angel went over, and grabbed the back of her neck; pressing his lips to hers. His kiss was deep and greedy, and he had no shame in pressing his groin against her in front of the crowd. His tongue danced against hers, and he let out a wanton grunt. “Let me just take care of this motherfucker, and then we can go somewhere and finish this”, he said against her lips; and stepped away from her. Nina was surprised her knees were still carrying her, and she felt lightheaded from all of her blood running to her groin.

Once inside the cage, Angel and Creeper circled each other like two lions, until Riz called out for them to begin. Angel flew forwards at the flash of an eye, and slammed his fist into Creeper’s face. Creeper fell backwards, and covered his mouth. Letting Angel think he was disoriented, he stumbled forwards again, and jabbed Angel in the ribs. Nina gasped at the sound, and her heart skip several beats, until Angel straightened back up, and put his arm around Creeper’s neck; continuously jabbing at his sternum. Breaking free, Creeper managed to get a hit in to Angel’s head.

As the fighting continued, Nina was caught off guard, when Palo appeared next to her. He handed her a beer. “As an apology… for my enforcer’s behavior”, he said. “Thank you”, she croaked. Palo gave her a half smile. “I’m just trying to keep him out of that cage…”, he said, and looked towards the two fighters. Angel had Creeper in a headlock. Nina chuckled nervously. “He’s strong… Your man”, Palo said. “Is he doing that for you?”. “I guess…”, Nina said, trying to avoid letting her voice shake too much. Angel looked up at her with a smile; but when he saw Palo, his eyes went cold. Creeper began tapping his arm, to forfeit; but Angel didn’t seem to notice, and only held on harder. Nina’s eyes widened in fear. “Angel! He’s tapping out, man!”, Riz called out. Angel was pulled out of his trance, and immediately let go of Creeper, who fell forwards, gasping for air. “I’ll leave you to it”, Palo said, and walked away.

Riz proclaimed Angel the winner, and he and Creeper hugged. They walked out of the cage together, and came over to Nina. “Are we good, Nina?”, Creeper panted. “Yeah. We’re good, Creep”, she said with a slight smile, and stepped forwards to pat his shoulder. Creeper winced at the touch, blew out a deep breath, and let himself be led away by the readhead, to be pampered.

Angel looked in the direction Palo had gone. “Everything ok?”, he asked. “Yeah, I think so”, Nina muttered. “He was apologizing for that thing from before, with that Vato”. “Huh”, Angel said, before turning to accept a towel from Riz. He had a small cut over his eyebrow, and his ribs were bruised. Nina stroked her fingertips over the mark, and Angel winced a bit. “Are you ok?”, she asked. “I’m good, querida. Don’t worry about it”, Angel replied, and kissed her temple. The scent of his adrenaline-fused sweat and his cologne hit Nina’s nose then, and she let out a soft moan. He smirked down at her. “Who’s the horny little shit, now…? Got something you need, cuervo?”. She bit her lip to keep from grinning, and got on her toes to kiss him deeply; making it very obvious what, in fact, she needed. Angel grabbed his shirt and his cut, and put his arm around her, letting his hand rest on her bottom; before leading her towards the trailer.

They were halted in their tracks, by a whistle. “That was some stellar fighting, brother”, someone called out to them in a Scottish drawl. Nina groaned, and looked over her shoulder disgruntledly at Filip; who was nursing a bottle of Jameson with Tig, Bishop, Sala, and Palo. “Thanks, man”, Angel replied. “Have a seat”, Filip said, and gestured for a chair next to him. Angel shot him a displeased smile, and led Nina over to the group. In spite of her disappointed expression, he put on his shirt and cut again; and sat down next to Filip. Tig smirked at Nina. “Aw, looks like we ran out of chairs. I got a lap right here for you, sweetheart…”. He patted his thighs, his eyes full of mischief. “I have a feeling you’re a dirty old man”, Nina replied, and raised a knowing brow at Tig. “You don’t know the half of it”, he said, and reached out his hand to shake hers. She did actually know much more than she wanted to, but held her tongue. Tig was as dirty as they came, but since hooking up with Venus a few years back, he’d mended his ways somewhat. “Tig Trager”, he introduced himself; keeping up the ruse of not knowing who she was. “And you are?”. “Not interested”, Angel said, and pulled Nina down to sit on his lap.

“You want to be careful with this one, mano”, Sala said. “He’s possessive of his girl”. “Good”, Filip said. “A man should take care of his woman”. Angel nodded shortly at him, and wrapped his arms around Nina’s waist, as she sat sideways on his thighs. Planting a soft kiss on her shoulder, he then accepted a beer from a passing hangaround. Nina looked up at her, and saw that it was Daniella; a fake smile plastered over her face. “Anything for you?”, she asked Nina. “Scotch…”, she replied. “That, I can help with”, Filip said, and got a glass from the table, filling it, and handing it to Nina. “Chibs Telford”, he said. Nina nodded, and took the glass. Daniella had an ugly sneer on her face for a second, before leaving them to it; giving Sala a view of her butt as she passed him. “Mami, get me another cold one”, he said. “Coming right up”, Daniella smiled at him, and moved towards the bar.

Bishop cleared his throat. “Palo was just telling us about a situation up north”, he said. Nina focused on running her nails through Angel’s hair. She was there as arm candy, not to listen; and she needed to keep up her ruse. “Business?”, Angel asked. “Yes… for you”, Palo said. “For me, it’s personal”. “Never good to mix the two”, Filip said. “Maybe not; but in this case, I’m willing to make an exception”, Palo grunted. “Esto se trata de la familia. I know Alvarez is your primo, Obispo; but I don’t trust him and Oakland with this anymore”. There was a pregnant silence, before Bishop spoke again. “As far as I know, Marcus is keeping his end of your deal. He’s been reaching out to all our charters, to find this woman…”. “This whore, shot my cousin down in cold blood!”, Palo growled. “Then she left him behind in a dirty alley to die alone. I want her dead!”.

A shudder went through Nina’s body. “Are you cold?”, Angel asked, trying to cover for her. She shrugged and nodded; and Angel pulled her closer to his chest. He put his lips to her ear, as if he was kissing her. “Breathe, querida”, he whispered, and squeezed her thigh gently; before taking a sip of his beer. “Didn’t she shoot him in the head?”, he said to Palo. Nina’s heart skipped several beats. “What are you saying?”, Bishop asked, his voice warning in its tone. Angel shrugged. “Just that if she shot him in the head…”. He pointed at his temple. “… he was probably dead the second the bullet hit… So, it’s not like he bled out alone on the ground…”. Nina wanted to scream; please shut your himbo mouth!; but, once again, held her tongue. “How does that change the situation?”, Sala asked. “Whoever shot him, didn’t want him to suffer… They were probably just trying to save themselves… Your cousin had reputation of being a bit rough with his women, is what I heard”, Angel replied. Nina hadn’t heard about this before, and was beginning to wonder if Angel had been asking around about Gael, to help her in some way. “Or mug him”, Palo said, obviously indifferent to his cousin’s reputation with women. This seemed odd to Nina, after how he’d handled her situation with Sala.

“Was anything stolen?”, Filip asked. Something cold ghosted Palo’s face, making him even more terrifying. “No… Nothing seemed to be missing from his body”, he said. “The puta did leave something behind, though”, Sala said. He grabbed the beer Daniella sauntered over to give him, before running his hand up her thigh. She smiled sweetly at him, taking it as her que to take a seat on his lap. He took a sip of his beer, and looked down her cleavage; seemingly satisfied with his catch of the evening, now that he couldn’t have Nina. “An inhaler…”, Palo said. “Was there a name on it?”, Tig asked. “No… But we know she used a .38”. “Those are some pretty weak leads”, Filip said. “Perhaps. But it’s something. And I’m going to use it to track her down… With your help”.

“What is it you want us to do? This happened in northern Cali", Bishop said. “I suspect she’s moving towards the border, trying to get across somehow, to avoid police investigation", Palo said. “As I understand it, your charter has been known to find ways to cross over with goods, without suspicion from authorities”. “What are you trying to say? That we helped her cross, in spite if your deal with El Padrino?”, Bishop said. “My deal is with Oakland", Palo said. “Different charter, same club", Tig said. “From our experience, Mayans are loyal to their brother-charters deals. They back each other". Palo looked at him with a scowl. “Maybe so…”. He turned his head towards Bishop. “I meant no disrespect. I am sure you back your brothers up north. “The same brothers you are saying you don’t trust", Bishop said. “That’s disrespect in itself".

Palo folded his hands, and smiled congenially. “Maybe we can rebuild that trust right now".

---

[oftenderweapons]

Girls’ Night — a girlfriends’ tale

Characters: OCs (Vixen, Princess, Lace), small Namjoon intromission

Wordcount: 12.2k

Genre: slice of life with discussion of BDSM themes, conversation

Rating: suggested 18+

Hello doves! As I announced the other day, I have been working on extra pieces that I really loved as a concept. This one — I must admit — is especially dear to me since it covers topics that I consider extremely important. This fic discusses mature themes. Please minors, do not read or interact.

Quick recap: (read Jimin’s Love Talk if you want to know the whole background for this story) Princess — Jimin’s girlfriend — has ventured into the world of BDSM after Jimin expressed his interest in being dominated and spanked. A few days after her first brief session with Jimin, two old acquaintances come to her help: Vixen — Namjoon’s girlfriend and Princess’ high school classmate — and Lace, Vixen’s best friend, Princess’ university flatmate but also Taehyung’s latest crush. (Tae and Lace met through Vixen at Taehyung’s housewarming party). The girls meet for dinner at Princess’ apartment and after some confessions and girl talk, they explore the most important rules and procedures a person should know before dominating their partner in a basic impact play scenario, with special contributions of a trained domme and an experienced brat. 

The piece is written with the girls as characters described through the POV of an external narrator. If you want to get to know the characters a bit better, you can find their headcanons here (Vixen — Princess — Lace).

On a lexical note: throughout the text I’ve used the word “dom” both as in short of the verb and of the noun. Even though the feminine form is usually “domme”, I’ve considered it gender neutral, as a short term for both “dominator” and “dominatrix”. 

On an ethical note: I wanted to raise awareness on how a safe, sane and consensual domination works. These days there’s an increasing number of BDSM pieces coming out, and very few of them mention the level of emotional connection that is necessary in these circumstances. Most of them focus on the scene, without showing how pre-session negotiations, aftercare and post-session feedback work. I wanted this piece to be educational and I wanted to show the “background work” on how I plan each BDSM-themed piece before I write it. Though I’ve done a lot of research on handbooks, websites and forums, I am NOT a BDSM educator, so I would recommend reading more in-depth manuals in case you ever decided to venture in this world, and possibly speak with an expert first.

On to trigger warnings: swearing, consumption of alcohol, obviously there is in-depth discussion of NSFW and BDSM themes with focus on impact play. Discussion of hard limits, negotiations, SSC (safe, sane, consensual), safewords, aftercare, bruising, cutting/puncturing (connected with cane and cat-o-nine-tales whipping), marking, pain kink, punishment, drop (both for subs and doms), anatomy of impact play (where to hit, how to hit), sex toys (spanking, face slapping, paddle, riding crop, slapper, strap, whip, flogger, cane). That should be all. In terms of angst, there is some insecurity, jealousy, and slightly traumatic past experiences. Lace recalls one time she “dropped”, Vixen recalls a series of quite intense scenes. There are mentions of Vixen’s second relationship (toxic relationship with a man who called her out for her sex drive, kinkshamed her and forced her into becoming exclusively vanilla). Both Princess and Vixen mention abandoning some friends since they couldn’t trust them close to their boyfriends, or not respecting their privacy. Lace mentions traumas that lead her to learn domination. She also explains her insecurities about possibly dating Taehyung.

Word count: lengthy. 12.2k words. Reading is not necessary but recommended since a lot of pieces stem directly from this one. 

Here is my masterlist!

Enjoy 💖

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EDIT: You can find part two here

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Lace came through with the loud stomps of the heels of her boots, the bag on her shoulder swaying heavily. It looked like she was ready to enter Cat Woman mode, wearing a cropped leather jacket rimmed with a thick black-fur neck. Her wondrous thighs were clad in tight, high-waisted jeans, her black leather knee boots completing the look. She impeccably wore her part.

As she neared the door, she checked her watch, noticing that she was a couple minutes early.

Five minutes later, always fashionably late, arrived Vixen, her hair falling perfectly around her pretty face, her lips tinged with a deep wine red, her doe eyes as inquisitive and wide as usual. It was exactly the girl she had met two years before on the other side of the counter of her shop, it looked like she hadn't aged a week.

"Hello!" She greeted her friend.

"Hi there! Look at you, you look like the best girlie in the world." Lace hollered back.

"Because I am." Vixen replied, basking in the attention and the praises.

"That self esteem is thriving! Freshly fucked and ready to misbehave?"

"Unfortunately not freshly enough, but you know me, I'm always ready to misbehave." Vixen winked before making her way to the entrance of the building, pressing the buzz for Princess' apartment.

"Isn't your big boy attending to his duties?" Lace asked, curious about the whole situation. She had personally met Namjoon and had seen the two of them together. They looked like the it-couple and she would gladly bet big money on the pair. Plus she knew about Vixen's collection and Namjoon's taste in terms of lingerie and negligees: in her honest opinion that's a solid base for a lasting union.

"He's attending, yes, but I don't want to vex him with my continuous cravings."

"Baby, not all of us are like that slut-shaming bastard of your ex. Stop thinking that needing to get laid more than once a week is a shame."

Princess voice sounded from the intercom. "Hi! It's floor 16 number 41!"

"Thank you!" Vixen replied before pushing the door open.

Lace slapped her hand and held the door as Vixen walked through. The other followed. "It's just that… He's been busy, plus he keeps saying he likes to come back early so we can have dinner together, he's always rushing from the studio to the dorms to his apartment. He looks like he'll get drunk on motion sickness before the tour even starts."

Lace stared at her feet as you both stood in the lift. How could she start something serious with Taehyung if they were going on tour? By the time she would get used to him he would be travelling on the other side of the world.

"So he stays at the dorms?" Lace fixed her bag on her shoulder.

"Often, yes. He stays at the apartment when I'm around, but he prefers the dorms when he's by himself or working."

The lift dinged and you exited, heading down the hallway "Thirty-eight, forty, there!" Lace chirped, noticing the open door.

There stood Princess, hair in a ponytail, wearing a fashionable white turtleneck and a thigh knee-length skirt. She looked classy and smart, just like she had appeared during previous meetings.

"Hello girls!" She waved at the pair, gesturing at them to come in.

"Hi there!" said Lace, "long time no see."

"We don’t see each other in ages and then two times in less than a month." Princess replied while hugging her. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if we reacquainted?”

Vixen nodded with a cute smile. "It would. I must say it was a surprise to meet you at the party with Jimin." Vixen took off her shoes as Princess offered her a pair of slippers.

"It seems like fate brought us back together." Princess replied.

“Indeed.” She commented, thinking about how they would get even closer if she gave in to the preternatural connection with Taehyung. Lace tugged at her boots, fighting with them a little before finally removing them, lost in her thoughts. She clumsily tried to avoid Vixen’s stare. She knew the girl would spot her secret in a second. Not now, she told herself. With the slippers on, Lace still looked like Catwoman from the ankles up, but her feet were clad with a pair of pink panther slippers that gave the outfit a hilarious twist.

"Let's move to the kitchen," Princess said, leading the way. "The apartment is small, sorry."

"Don't worry sweetie, with a view like this I would gladly live in a shoebox." Vixen commented, looking out of the window. "Plus you live pretty high up."

"It was accidental. I just needed something close to my office."

"What did you end up doing?" Lace asked as she looked at the prints on the wall.

"I work for a fashion magazine. Usually I do model casting and a little bit of everything about organising photoshoots." Princess replied.

"That sounds great!" Lace exclaimed, grinning.

Princess clumsily opened a bottle of wine, but fortunately no damage resulted. "What about you?"

"I'm a shop assistant in a lingerie shop." Lace replied.

"Don't diminish yourself like that." Vixen said, looking away from the window. "She works at the La Perla boutique in Gangnam, plus she has her own studio where she creates customised orders." The woman patted her friend on the shoulder. "She's amazing."

Princess lit up. "So you managed to make part of your dream come true!"

"A small part. I'm still far from having my own shop." Lace exhaled.

"But she's getting there." Vixen added with a positive note.

"I ordered in a little bit of everything." Princess said, taking the food out of the oven. "I didn't trust my cooking skills knowing this one." She pointed at Vixen. "I've heard you're almost a chef."

"I just took lessons." She shrugged. "I just really like everything that feels like home."

Sniffing at the air, Vixen sparked up, getting cozy at the smell of bulgogi. "This smells very nice."

"A little bird told me it's your favourite." Princess winked.

"Do I know that little bird?"

"He knows you very well." Princess said, admiring how the polished, elegant woman-girl turned completely smitten.

"I'll make sure to thank him."

Lace snickered. "Do you need help?" She offered, while Princess laid out a bunch of smaller plates and bowls with side dishes. "I got some dumplings, pancakes and our baby's favourite: braised potatoes."

Vixen clapped enthusiastically.

Dinner proceeded calmly, all the partakers digging in quietly, chitchatting between one serving and another, catching up on the various mishaps that had happened during those years apart.

"So you studied in Europe, right?" Princess asked Vixen.

"I spent almost two years between France and England, yes." She replied politely, sipping her wine composedly as if she hadn't devoured her serving of potatoes like a very smug wolf.

"Cool. But you came back here." Princess continued.

"Yes, I missed home. And I missed jajangmyeon." Vixen grinned. "Food in general. I like my life here. Living in Europe to me felt like being continuously on the sidetrack of something. Catching up with the culture is seriously a challenge, especially when you're in the art world."

"Right, you're an interior designer." Princess reminded herself.

"Exactly."

"I've heard you met Namjoon because of that."

Vixen smiled. "Yeah, well… The usual. We met at a gallery, I had a meeting with the artist and he accidentally participated. The artist and the director of the gallery accompanied us through the exhibition and at the end he asked if I wanted to grab a coffee. At the beginning I thought it strange that he hadn't booked a private visit, but he said that because of a last minute plan he had begged the director to book him in anytime. Since I'm friends with the director and I have strict privacy agreements at the firm, the curator thought it was a good idea."

"Who would have thought, uh?" Lace chirped in, laying her chopsticks on her empty bowl.

"Y'all, soju?" Princess asked, now that they were all done with the food.

While Vixen nodded, Lace held back. "I think I'll take just a sip. It gets me bloated."

The table was clean, the small cups for soju laying on the table as Princess shook the bottle and poured it according to tradition.

"Cheers to your taken asses and my single one." Offered Lace, the three of them laughing and downing the liquid. Princess drank it without even blinking, Lace taking it in a small measured way while Vixen downed it and scrunched her nose, shutting her eyes tight and shaking her head as she processed the burn.

"You're still a doll." Princess commented.

"And you're still otherworldly cool." Vixen replied, smirking. "You were the most bad ass girl of the class. I had lots of respect for you, but I was so scared of approaching you."

"You were so tiny and shy." Princess gushed. "You were everyone's crush but you were so smart. And a bit strange. It felt wrong to even think of you like that."

Vixen shook her head, "It feels strange to bring up those memories. After university and being abroad it feels like another life."

"Because many things changed in the meantime." Lace argued. "I've known you since you started working, two years ago."

"I spent half of my first paycheck at your shop."

"You did. And I asked you for coffee because I liked your sense of fashion."

"I thought you wanted to date me." Vixen laughed.

"Well, when you're done snuggling your big bear, you know you can come to me." Lace winked.

"My bear is pretty big so it might take me a while to be done with that." Vixen joked. "Plus I'm pretty happy. I haven't been this happy since I was nineteen. I'm content. Satisfied. Taken care of. Loved. I'm thriving." She closed her eyes and shrugged, smiling.

"My bad." Lace patted her own shoulder in support. "What about you and Jimin?"

"Oh, we met during a photoshoot. I assisted in his shoot and when he was done he asked to see the pictures that would feature on the magazine. That's when he asked me out for dinner." Princess said, her eyes shining as she remembered the event.

Lace noticed the two women staring at her. "Well time for my story… Me and my dildo met at the store, he was cute, I was needy and I invited him to my bed. That's how we first met and we've been happy ever since." Lace told emotionally. The other two burst out laughing, Vixen holding her belly while Princess leaned on the table.

"Oh goodness." The smaller one said.

"I think it's time we face our main topic. Would you like to start?." Lace asked Princess.

"Okay. I'll be very direct." Princess warned.

"Don't worry, we're all grown ups here. You're safe, darling." Vixen stretched her arm out to caress her forearm. "And we're pretty open minded, trust me."

"Okay. Basically, Jimin would like me to get a bit more rough in the bedroom. Namely, we tried spankings the other week. He sort of power-bottomed? Like he gave me instructions on how to do it."

Lace nodded.

"I am worried about how to handle this. I want to do it, but I don't know how to do it right. I don't want to hurt him." Princess said with a frown. “And I’m a little worried I liked it so much.”

Lace’s lips formed a small conspiratorial smile. “At the beginning there’s always a little bit of fear. And a bit of… Shame.”

“Yes.” Princess confirmed. “But it’s not something that bothers me. Like, it’s there but it doesn’t bother me. I don’t think it will persist. When I think about what we did… Well, I’m almost proud.”

Lace smirked and nodded. “That’s good. What would you like to work on? Is it just impact play — you called it "spanking" — or is it also domination on a broader sense?"

"Well… Wait, I took notes." Princess looked around, walking towards her bedroom and coming back with a small notebook and the guide.

"It's the book!" Lace exclaimed.

"The book." Vixen wiggled her eyebrows knowingly.

"You, vixen." Lace smirked. "Namjoon is right calling you that."

"You have no idea." The other replied. "Now, let's see."

"I'll return you the book." Princess reassured her.

"You can keep it for another bit. You'll need it again with Jimin."

"We have our own copy, don't worry." Princess replied, with a quick smirk. "Well, I think I can dom pretty fine — as I read the book I realised I already have some of those behaviours. However there are some practices I might have to learn in person."

"Normally we teach how to dom through subbing: what you experienced the first time with Jimin was subliminally subbing." Lace took the reins and explained. "It is one of the most sophisticated forms of domming — being a power bottom — and the fact that he did that should suggest you that A — he's a very skilled sub, or B — he's generically a very smart person with good manipulative skills."

Princess listened to the explanation quite raptured. "Personally, I don't know how far he's gone with his exes but I would say he has taken the lead before and he's quite used to speak up and order me around a little, so his behaviour might come from that."

Lace nodded. "I would recommend that you talk to him and try to design a specific plan for the two of you. As I hinted before I have taken lessons on BDSM practices in a club here in the city. I have received almost two years of training and I have taken part as an assistant to a teacher for another two years, that's why I might sound academic and serious. You can stop me whenever you feel uncomfortable or when you need to ask a question." That's when Lace shifted. Her whole position changed: her back got straighter and her hands splayed on the table, somehow squaring her position.

"Okay." Princess confirmed.

"You know that during university I took that course on acrobatic yoga?" Lace asked.

Princess frowned. "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, it wasn't exactly acrobatic yoga." Lace shrugged and raised her eyebrows. "At the beginning I did do some acrobatic yoga lessons but then one of the students introduced me to this BDSM course and I left yoga for… yeah, you know." Lace laughed.

Vixen listened quietly, observing Princess' reaction.

"Would you consider taking lessons from an expert?" Lace asked.

Princess shrugged. "I think that the book was very good on general analysis. Personally, I've never considered meeting an expert mostly because I wouldn't know where to look for one. Plus, I've only had a week to think about this."

Vixen looked at Lace. "I'll be very blunt here, darling. I think that the best thing to do would be discussing the whole book thing with Jimin. Have pre-session negotiations. Discuss stuff. Find out what you want to explore and go there together."

Lace raised an eyebrow. "However, it is perfectly okay if you want to practice by yourself. Being a good dominant means that you can convey control and safety through your stance and behaviour. That requires practice."

Vixen nodded before adding, "It's okay if you want to take some steps by yourself before bringing him into the equation."

"Okay, so I reckon you have quite some knowledge on the theme. Maybe you could teach me something?" Princess asked Lace, a bit shy but fully determined.

Lace smirked. "That's why I came prepared. However, I must remind you I have been a co-trainer, and that doesn't mean I am a teacher, therefore I can only cover the basic stuff, which for now will suffice."

Vixen's eyes burned expectantly.

"Our girl here might help you see stuff through a submissive's eyes, right?" Lace questioned.

Vixen nodded and smiled, reassuring Princess by placing a hand on top of hers.

"Okay. Let's talk about general principles. BDSM is an acronym for Bondage, Domination, Sadism and Masochism. But I guess you read this in the book." Lace presented.

Princess nodded.

"The golden rule is SSC: Safe, Sane, Consensual. Use protection and make sure that you're both tested and clean if you go without a condom or dental dams. Also, keep your toys clean. Do not start anything if your judgement is clouded — by alcohol, drugs or violent, instinctual emotions. Make sure that both you and your partner want the same things. Explain what is going to happen and negotiate before each session — at least for the first few times. This is also the right moment to talk about safe words."

"Me and Jimin covered these already." Princess noted.  

“Then you’re already halfway there. The biggest part of training is making people always aware of all the steps that could possibly go wrong and make sure that you’re prepared for the worst case scenario.”

Vixen nodded. “As a sub, it is important to feel safe. An anxious sub is a sub who can hardly feel pleasure, and that invalidates the experience as a whole. We only do it for pleasure.”

Princess listened carefully and thought about it a little. “How… How does it feel…To be a sub? I mean, I’ve sort of subbed with Jimin but… Yeah.”

“Well, I’m leaning-sub. That means I rarely dom, and when I do I’m a power bottom — that thing that Jimin did when he gave you instructions on how to dominate him. Being a sub has a lot to do with feeling cherished and taken care of. Some of us are not comfortable with power and responsibilities. Some of us simply like to be told what to do and please. I like doing what Joon tells me to do and do it perfectly the way he wants it to be done, because I know he will praise me and reward me. I know that he loves me regardless of me doing what he wants, but it pleases me immensely to use my submission to show him how far my trust and love for him go. I feel safe when I'm in his hands. And I like punishment, it helps me deal with guilt. When I make a mistake, I always torture myself with guilt and self-hate, but punishment makes me feel like I've made a mistake and I've paid for it. The point is not the punishment, but rather the forgiveness and the sense of atonement afterwards." Vixen spoke with a composed attitude, however her eyes wandered around nervously, as if trying to avoid meeting the others’ gazes.

"In that case the dominant is supposed to be attentive in terms of how far the submissive pushes themself. A sub looking for forgiveness is a sub willing to go further than normal, which means that they might inadvertently reach their breaking point — which shall never happen." Lace highlighted.

"The golden rule is to always leave hungry. There is a fine line between satiety and nausea. The moment you overstep and reach nausea is the moment your sub might hurt themself." Vixen said, tight lipped.

Princess nodded. "I'm glad we can have this conversation. It's not something I can quite talk about with my friends since the whole situation with the boys is pretty delicate. I had to close some of those friendships to keep Jimin safe. I realised I couldn't trust some of those people and I'm glad I realised before it was too late."

Vixen’s leg started bouncing. “Same with Joon. I don’t have that many friends in the city, mostly because of the time abroad and the fact that all of the friends I had by now are married and/or with kids. I couldn’t trust many of them, but you —” she said, gesturing towards Lace, “and when I introduced you to Namjoon I told him you were one of the most discreet people in the world, because you value your privacy and other people’s privacy because of your, uhm, lessons.”

“It feels good to have someone to share this burden with. I’m pretty scared of the tour.” Vixen looked down. The poised young woman seemed to crumble, giving space to an insecure little creature. “We’ve been dating since last November, but our relationship hasn’t really begun until late February. To be honest I’m terrified.”

Both Lace and Princess reached out for her.

“I’m scared.”

“Have you told him?”

“Yes, he knows.” Vixen sparked up for a minute. “We talk a lot. He always asks me how I feel about things. Lately I’ve been spending all my time away from work with him. It’s been… maybe three days since I last went back to my apartment. And in the last month or so I’ve slept alone maybe three or four nights. I don’t know what I’ll do when he’s away.” Vixen’s eyes welled up with tears before she smiled classily and recomposed herself. “But that’s not relevant.”

“It is, baby.” Princess rubbed her shoulder. “You have my number. You can reach out to me anytime.”

“I’ll be there too, you know. I know I’m not your Big Bear, but I can cook and I’m an excellent vintage movie marathon partner.” Lace rubbed the other shoulder, catching the few tears that had fallen. This was a further confirmation that Namjoon was the right man for Vixen: he had reached out to Lace a few weeks after they had been introduced, asking her if it was cool if he asked her updates on Vixen during the tour, mostly because he knew she would put up her strong, charming face in front of him, but secretly she would be worrying over his absence. That brought them close; it felt good to create this safety net for Vixen and it felt even better to know her in the hands of a man worthy of her, attentive despite his busy schedule and strong work ethic.

“Thank you, girls. That’s really sweet of you.”

“You’re the one who made this possible,” said Princess, gesturing to the three of them sitting at the table together. “I owe you. And I reckon this is a good time to make amends for not making friends with you in high school.” Princess laughed. “We’ll all need each other. We could have a group chat with Jin’s girlfriend too. Plus Jimin mentioned Yoongi is seeing someone.”

“Yes, Namjoon mentioned too. I’ve heard she’s a lawyer. He’s got this insanely huge crush on her.” Vixen giggled. “I haven’t met her yet but I’ve heard they were supposed to go out tonight.”

“Maybe we’ll see her at the next gathering.” Princess wondered. “I must admit I’m curious.”

“I am too.”

Lace felt a bit out of the conversation. “Me and Taehyung have been texting.”

Vixen blinked and turned to her. “What?” She had this face that read perfect confusion. “How long? And you’ve never told me? I mean, I gave him your number but I didn’t—”

“It’s because I haven’t been really taking him into consideration until recently.” Lace replied. “Normally I would reply to him with small texts, just to avoid sounding rude.”

“You mean to tell me you have Taehyung wrapped around your little finger — Kim Heartthrob Taehyung — and you weren’t even interested? Have you been doing drugs too?” Vixen looked outraged. “Fucking insane.” She shook her head.

“You know me. I value my privacy. Do you know how fucking un-private it is to potentially date that man? What if they find out about my extracurriculars?” Lace pointed out.

Vixen exhaled and formed a tight-lipped smile.

“Don’t give me the disappointed mom look.” Lace replied. “Plus I’m the same age as you, you have no right to turn judgemental.”

“Of course.” Vixen nodded. “Your safety first, love.”

“It’s just that I want to, but I can barely imagine how fucked up that could be.”

Princess breathed out. “Jimin and I have been extremely private about us and me being so close to the press means I am risking so much.” Princess opened her arms wide. “But it would take a catastrophe to take him away from me.”

“Give him a chance. Tell him about everything outright and let him choose. He’ll take his chance. Don’t choose for him.” Vixen pointed out. “That’s how I did with Joon. We talked and clearly said ‘this is what I need and what I can give, can you comply? Are you okay with it?’ It’s a bit of a bet, but I think the prospect of gain outweighs the actual risk of it.”

Lace nodded. “And then there’s the tour.”

Vixen and Princess nodded. Vixen tried to keep her insecurity and jealousy at bait. All those girls drooling over him, all those female staff members travelling with him. She propped her elbows on the table and pressed her forehead against her palms, her lovely hair falling forward.

Princess, sitting beside her, rubbed her back. “What if you just give him one date. Tell him your situation both about your, uhm— hobby and your emotional state. I’m sure he will understand. His emotional intelligence is impressive.” Princess stated, nodding, her hand still rubbing Vixen’s spine.

“He’s the kind of man I would gladly be a sucker for.” Lace explained. “I knew I was a dom since I was eighteen, but Jesus, I know I would sub for him.” Vixen seemed to awaken at that comment. “I’ve seen his stages. He is insane.” Lace bit her lip. “But I need time to trust him. And it would feel useless to get cosy with him only to have him leave for the tour.”

“Just tell him.” Vixen encouraged her. “He will surely work with you on a compromise.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Are you okay?” Lace checked in on Vixen.

“Yup. Just a sudden jealousy rush.”

Lace frowned. “He would never. Don’t worry about that.” Lace cocked her head to the side. “He worships the ground you step on.”

“Girls throw thems—”

“He throws himself at you.” Lace remarked. “Plus he loves you. You love him. That’s all that matters. He gave you the passcode to his house, basically made you move in, what else do you need? I bet he’d gladly handcuff himself to you if you asked kindly enough.” Lace joked.

“Scratch that ‘kindly enough’. He’d cuff himself to you without you even asking.” Princess remarked.

“Can we move back to the BDSM introductory lessons?” Vixen asked, shaking her head, but with a tiny smile on her face.

Lace saw that was a good sign. Princess smiled beside her. “Okay, I’ll go with my request. I know I told you I wanted to get to know more of impact play and if we could focus on that...”

“Yes, I get where you’re headed. Let’s get it. But we’ll need a clean table for this.” Lace explained.

“Let’s do this.” Princess stood up from the table, beginning to clean up everything. It took the girls only a couple minutes to get rid of dirty dishes, empty boxes, the glasses and the soju. Even the fruit basket the guests had bought was moved on the kitchen counter.

“Do you have any sanitizer, perhaps?” Lace asked.

“Isn’t it better if we move to the sofa?” Suggested Vixen. “Use the coffee table?”

Princess shrugged. “Same to me.”

Lace nodded convincedly. “Let’s prep the coffee table. Sorry for the main table.”

Princess shrugged. “Needed to clean it anyways.”

A few minutes later the girls were all sitting around the coffee table, Lace’s bag placed at her side while Vixen occupied her other side, Princess sitting in front of them.

“Let’s do an impact play in depth analysis. What you need is one — a dom, two — a sub, three — optional, — supplies.” Lace listed. “Let’s go a bit at a time. First, the dom. A dom must be sober, lucid. No alcohol, drugs, and most importantly, no impulsive, instinctual emotions. If you’re furious, don’t go there. Violent emotions can cloud your judgement. Don’t let those lead you. Of course you might be angry or aroused, but that must not take the lead. If your anger makes you want to give them fifty spanks, but normally your sub can take twenty, you can negotiate maybe twenty-five. Be judicious, never hungry.”

“Good.” Said Princess, focusing on every single one of Lace’s words.

“Once you’re sure you’re in a coherent, calm mindset, you should negotiate with your sub. Remember: safe, sane, consensual. Safe, in this case, involves that your supplies are clean and cannot hurt your sub, both in terms of cleanliness and state of use. Check for loose threads, scratches on leather that could possibly host bacteria or dirt, splinters in case of wooden devices, porous surfaces. We’ll talk about this more accurately in the supplies section. Sane means to check your mindset and your sub’s mindset. Same rules as before: no alcohol, drugs, violent emotions.”

Vixen made eye contact with Lace, silently requesting permission to speak. “Small note on that, may I?”

Lace nodded.

“Your sub might come to you while being emotionally unstable. They might need you for comfort or atonement. Make sure to heal that emotionally before dealing with it sexually. It means to discuss what caused the upset state of mind in order to identify the real entity of the problem, correct the perception of it and negotiate the atonement.”

“Excellent point.” Replied Lace.

Vixen smiled cutely.

“Can I have an example?” Asked Princess with a frown.

“Of course. Let’s say I fucked up at work, I booked the wrong artwork and the artwork they wanted is no longer available. I manage to find an alternative but I somehow feel like I let down my client. I go home and I am scolding myself because I didn’t deliver what was asked of me. My dom may spot my disappointment or may recognise self-punishment. Also, I might explicitly tell my dom I am not feeling well due to a sense of guilt. This leads to my dom asking me why I am upset or why I am punishing myself. I — along other perfectionists like Jimin — tend to overestimate my mistakes, making them a bigger deal than what they actually are. My dom corrects my perspective through objective analysis, underlines my successful abilities in dealing with the issue and suggests potential improvements on those things I didn’t manage to solve. Perfectionists have a strict inner judge that scolds them and punishes them. Therefore their psych is divided into victim and punisher. This fracture obviously causes discomfort. The dom’s goal is to heal this fracture, especially since the perfectionist’s “punisher” side — so to say — is very strict and usually overestimates the damage and subsequently overestimates the punishment. After correcting the perception of the mistake, the dom gives an appropriate price for atonement.”

“So the goal is to stop the guilt trip mechanism?” Princess asked.

“Yes.” Vixen confirmed. “But this is just one kind of spanking. There are other cases. It can be educational or simply sexual. Educational is when the dom corrects the sub’s behaviour because they violated a rule or an order. In that case it’s mostly dom-initiated—”

“Unless the sub willingly misbehaved to earn a punishment.” Lace added.

“That sounds Jimin.” Princess commented, rubbing her forehead.

Vixen smiled widely.

“That’s not funny, you brat!” Lace scolded her.

“When you find your sub willingly misbehaving, you should talk to them very clearly. Usually they do it to attract attention. Ignoring them might hurt them or bring them to further misbehaviour, which can turn dangerous. I normally recommend conversation.” Lace explained. “Pay attention to them and ask why they broke the rule, what they were trying to get out of it. You can give them the punishment they were asking for — for example if your sub disobeyed because it earns them spanks and they like spanks, you can either give them spanks or punish them with something that they really don’t like, for example edging.”

Princess nodded. “That’s interesting, thank you.”

“Any remark, Vixen?”

She shrugged. “No, I don’t think so.”

“What about sexual spanks?” Princess questioned.

“Those can be incorporated into foreplay. Some people are simply aroused by pain.” Vixen shrugged. “It puts the sub into a vulnerable position, and it underlines a power imbalance. It makes the sub feel smaller, powerless — or almost so — and sometimes humiliated.” Vixen explained.

“Exactly. I would add that it stimulates the circulation of blood to the pelvis region, which means that skin is more sensitive, arousal increases and the whole perception intensifies. It builds trust and sometimes, according to personal history of each sub, it can send them back to childhood memories, mimicking the power imbalance between child and adult who disciplined them. It has strong disciplinary and educational value, back to the punishment scene.”

“Oh, about punishment!” Vixen exclaimed. “We forgot the most important part of it all. But it refers to all sorts of spanking, to be true. Negotiation. Once you have identified the fault, tell your sub how many hits there will be, how you will deliver them and with which instrument, which position they will have to assume. Repeat safewords. Make sure that they agree fully to every detail of the spanking. If they do not agree to some parts, ask to find a compromise, a middle ground between your and their needs. Once you have the green light, you can talk your sub through the whole experience as the scene actually develops. Once you are done with the scene, say a code phrase that means that the scene has finished.”

“Okay, me and Jimin did this stuff our first time trying this.” Princess confirmed.

“Wonderful. Was it a positive experience? Did you have any uncertainties, questions?”

“It was a very positive experience, both in mine and his opinion. We talked it out the morning after, since I preferred to have some time to elaborate my personal feelings about the scene”

“That’s okay. As a dom you can experience mixed feelings, especially after a first scene, with activities that are usually misjudged by society”. Lace explained, gently patting Princess’ hand on top of the table.

“I think that Jimin’s positive reaction and guidance helped me feeling positive about the whole scene. He was truly supportive through all of it.” Princess smiled softly.

“That’s a good partner. Both for life and for play”. Lace smiled herself, glad that Princess’ first experience went well.

“There were very deep emotions of care and support and love during the whole scene. A kind of affection and vulnerability I had never experienced with anyone else. I hope I can go there again with him, but next time I want to be more reliable and secure and experienced. I thought that a general introduction, especially about supplies, could help me, since Jimin was interested in that.”

“Okay, let’s just finish the general intro. We were saying safe, sane and consensual. Safe means toys, safewords and aftercare supplies. Sane means both parties know what they’re doing, the dom is aware of the sub’s mental space. Consensual means negotiation about number of blows, technique, position and eventually toys. Make sure that your sub always knows about the motive of the spanking. The natural response, especially to pain, is ‘why’. Make sure they know. Eventually, remind them. Once more remind them of safewords and the final sentence.”

“Do not ever stop unless they safeword.” Vixen said. “If they repeatedly tell you to stop, remind them they have their safewords if they want to. As a sub I’ve said both ‘stop’ and ‘why’ at least a hundred time during a spanking. ‘Stop’ and similar are pretty recurrent. Just say ‘You know your safeword, love’. If they really need them, they will use them, trust me. Just remind them all the time. You could maybe need to slow down, make sure that they aren’t panicking and they do actually remember their words.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Lace confirmed before turning to Vixen. “Have you been studying?” She joked.

“I’ve been reading lately.” Vixen confirmed, with a very happy smile on her face.

Lace mirrored her expression. She knew Vixen had been pushed into quitting BDSM activities by her ex boyfriend. Knowing that she was finally back to something she liked, something she was comfortable with made her happy. “I’m glad you’re back on track, sweetie.”

“Thank you.” Vixen closed the small exchange with Lace.

“Once a scene is closed, your sub might have different responses. They might ask to be left alone. In that case, make sure that healing supplies are ready for their self care. Remind them to check for abrasions. If the skin is damaged on a surface level — that means it is not only bruised, but also broken — you will need disinfectant and probably band aids.” Lace explained.

“But that happens rarely, right?” Vixen asked.

“With average spanking, that is quite rare. Normally you need specific instruments specifically meant to cause abrasions.”

“Like canes and spiked toys?”

“Yes, but not only those. I’ve seen pretty heavy damage caused by an apparently regular flogger.” Lace commented, shuddering at the memory.

Vixen blinked, a bit shocked. “Okay, back to aftercare.”

“Yeah,” said Princess, exhaling and looking away.

“So, unless your sub wants you to leave, you stay around. Provide for them. Rub lotion first. Some subs store specific lotion for this kind of stuff. To ease the burn, the sting, or lessen the bruises.”

Vixen interrupted. “I must say, most of us like the bruises and the reminder-sting, so they don’t really do much about it. Still, it depends on how far you’ve gone and how the sub feels. Usually, my favourites are a cold cloth, lotion and if I went particularly far maybe a painkiller. Normally herbal lotion and muscle relaxant are an excellent solution. They’re softer and safer, especially since you never know how a sub might react to medicines. As usual, make sure that whatever you use on them is safe. Let them prepare their usual medication. Make sure you have plenty of time to ascertain that they are emotionally stable. Do not leave them alone unless they request so, and tendentially it is good etiquette to stay in proximity, in case they change their mind.”

“Thank you so much for all the head ups.” Princess said, true gratitude shining all over her face. “I feel more comfortable knowing that we followed those lines during the first time too. It’s not something absurd. Youjust really need to use your common sense.”

Vixen nodded. “Being smart sure helps, but it’s not everything. You can only truly learn it by making it a routine.”

“You mean practice?” Princess questioned.

Lace nodded. “Yes. Once you actually start practicing, you’ll immediately find out your forte and potential weaknesses. Be comfortable with those: you can ask us or look it up on the guide, or on BDSM blogs. I can send you reliable sources, if need be. I would say you can reach out to my dungeon, it is a safe and discreet environment, but I fully understand your position, and I get that you might prefer to have a private approach to this. You can eventually book personal appointments with an expert. Those normally include non-disclosure agreements and Jimin could be protected from the public eye, as far as it can go.” Lace explained. “We have had many, many clients who have requested so. It would be perfectly normal.”

Princess thought about it and nodded. “I’ll discuss it with Jimin.”

“Perfect. As you can see the key to this is communication.”

“Indeed.” Confirmed Princess.

“Now, let’s get down to the actual business.” Lace opened the bag but left all the contents inside. “Impact play can happen on different parts of the body. Vixen?” Lace called.

Vixen stood up gingerly.

“Tie your hair, doll.” Lace reminded her.

The woman fished a ribbon from her pocket and did a soft ponytail.

“Good. I’ll show you.” Lace fished out a long, silky bag from her weekender; untying the ribbon, she pushed her hand in and extracted a long stick. A cane, Princess corrected herself.

Lace didn’t pay much attention. Its purpose was that of a pointing stick at that moment. “Number one, the derrière.” Vixen turned and Lace let the wooden instrument hover over the girl’s ass. “You know what to do to hit here?”

“Find the tailbone and place your non-dominant hand over it to protect it. Alternate sides, rub between a spank and another. Hit the lower region, far from the nerves up high. Where the flesh swells, that’s where I can hit. Also the back of the thighs.”

“Excellent. That’s all.” Lace congratulated. “Other spots are the back of the legs, more precisely the back of the knees and the calves. However, knees are delicate, so you can only deliver delicate blows with a restricted selection of toys. I would not recommend it. The back of the calves also offer a limited selection of toys, but it is slightly safer to go there. Still, the surface is limited and the knees and ankles are close. The risk of missing your target is high. Since you’re a beginner I would not go there.”

Princess nodded. “What kind of toys can I use?”

“We’ll cover that later. For now let’s just run through anatomy.” Lace answered calmly. “Are you good, Vixen?”

“Yup.” The other replied.

“Perfect. Turn to your side profile.” Lace asked and Vixen quickly provided.

Lace pressed the cane in a line connecting the peaks of each of Vixen’s glutes. “From here—” she moved all the way down to her mid thighs “— to here it’s good. The peak to the midthigh.”

“Great. Got it.” Princess replied. “There are other places? Like…?”

“Would you like to talk?” Lace asked Vixen. “You're the expert.”

“May I?” She asked.

“Of course, sweetie. You’re the expert in this.”

Princess raised an eyebrow at the comment, but still she stayed focused. To say she was intrigued was a big understatement.

Vixen’s sweet voice began speaking. “Other than the backside, as we’ve just mentioned, there are other spots that can be involved in impact play. While the back of the thighs and the butt can stand harsher beatings with almost all toys intended for impact play, other areas are more sensitive, more delicate or consist in a smaller expanse of skin, therefore they shall be treated differently. Both the palms and the back of the hands, just like the soles of the feet can be involved, especially when matched with instruments with a smaller surface of beating, like a slapper, a riding crop and a cane — for example. They shall be treated lightly, since they have lots of nerve endings, bones and tendons exposed.”

“What’s a leather strap?” Princess asked.

Lace lifted a finger as a sign to wait, before digging her other hand in her bag and extracting a small device, of maybe twentyish centimetres of length and five or six of width; she placed it on the table to let Princess observe it. “Handle and slappers.” She pointed. “Very noisy, actually pretty innocuous. The leather bits slap against each other and create a single impact that sounds like a double.”

“It sounds scary, though.” Vixen noted. It always made her blood curl in her veins, the heavy smack turning into a torturous feel as the hit didn’t match the noise. Fear worked, but the sensation didn’t. It was not something she liked, usually.

Lace nodded. “I haven’t used it much. Usually people like the cane on the back of the hands. Because of old school punishments.” Lace explained.

“Right. Thanks.” Princess nodded.

Vixen waited for a sign before moving on. Once she had both women’s attention, she proceeded. ”Thighs are generally all good, if they’re fleshy and plump enough. Make sure that you don’t go too hard when hitting close to private parts. While a vulva can handle a fair bit, the penis is generally more delicate in the structure. Thighs can handle all toys, just like the ass. Paddles, slappers, straps, riding crops, whips and canes. For private parts I recommend the riding crop.” Vixen smiled politely.

Princess interrupted. “The strap is that kind of… like?” She gestured a long and thin rectangle with her hands, looking for words.

“It looks like a belt bent in two, with a handle. Maybe I have it…” She rummaged in her bag. “No. Sorry. I think I left it at home.”

Princess waved her hands. “Don’t worry, that’s okay, I think I visualised it pretty well.” She smiled. “There’s more?” Princess said, marvelled as Vixen began talking again.

“Well, yes. Oh, first a small warning — before I forget. You must absolutely stay away from the belly and the stomach. Same for the lower back.” Vixen showed the various spots on her body with precise gestures of her hands. “Too many vulnerable organs left unprotected there.” She took a small pause and then moved on.

“Some people can handle hits on their shoulders and upper back, where the internal organs are protected by the ribcage and other bone structures; however I would talk with a professional about that kind of scene since you need to flawlessly master advanced equipment — people tendentially use whips and similar, or the strap.” Vixen stopped for a second, looking at Lace as if asking whether she had anything more to ask. Lace shook her head, inviting the other woman to proceed.

“Now, about delicate parts: some people like being slapped in the face, but then again, that must be clearly stated in the negotiations. I’d say you should only use hands, but maybe I’m projecting.”

“In four years, I’ve only used and seen other use hands. Also, riding crops, but usually that’s just to direct head movements or to pat the face, rather than slapping it.”

Vixen nodded. “Great. About interesting stuff, nipples can be gently stimulated with small, very delicate pats. Riding crops are excellent for this use. Also slappers. Maybe canes in some cases.” — Lace did a so-and-so motion with her head. Vixen continued, — “Some people can go very hard on nipples and technically — just like with the butt — women who have bigger breasts can stand more intense stimulation”.

“Oh, that yes. You can use, as usual, riding crops, but also paddles, straps and whips — if you’re experienced.” Lace added.

Princess nodded with an interested expression. She could mention that to Jimin. Imagining him with a riding crop, standing at the side of the bed, rubbing the leather bit against her nipples before whipping them harshly had her losing focus for a second, taking in a big breath and biting her lip.

Vixen grinned. She could practically read the other woman’s thoughts. “For women with smaller breasts and men, I would say to stay on the more gentle side for the first few sessions and eventually — once you know each other and once you know your sub’s pain threshold — you can get more heavy-handed, so to say. As I said before female private parts can handle pretty harsh whippings, especially since arousal tends to make the labia plumper and therefore protect the skin better. Still, you should start slow and work your way up. Male crotch area is a lot more delicate, however the shaft can take a medium-intense whipping. I recommend riding crops and small leather straps.”

Lace raised her eyebrows at Vixen with a proud grin. “Nothing to add. This should be all.”

“Wow.” Princess was a bit excited. If Jimin had looked that good with a few spanks, she could only imagine what he would do once she got more experienced and learned what actually drove him crazy.

“That’s a lot of stuff, I know.” Lace reassured her.

“I’m actually excited. Like, it sounds very interesting. There’s a lot of trust and knowing each other. I really like that. I think it brings the partners very close.”

Vixen nodded. “It does.”

Princess bit her lip. “I don’t want to pry but… Do you do all of that?” She looked at Vixen with a slight blush.

The woman giggled. “Not anymore, no.” She took a meditative pause, like she was reminiscing something. It felt strange that a girl so young could feel so old every now and then. That dark cloud that obscured Vixen’s doll-like traits disappeared, leaving only a fond grin in tow. “Now I do the bits I like best.” She grinned.

Lace looked at her with a bit of worry before smiling again.

“Before we actually start with tools I need to make sure that you know all you need about aftercare and drops.” Lace said seriously.

“Yes, please.” Princess said. “May I recap what we said about aftercare?”

“Yes, sure.” Lace invited her.

“Prepare the stuff before. Check for abrasions: if there are, then disinfectant and band aids. Next cold cloth, lotion and eventually painskiller. Use medicines that my sub takes regularly. Make sure that they’re okay emotionally. If they want me to leave, I do, but I stay close.”

“Amazing. Quick learner.” Lace cheered.

“Those were also in the book.” Princess commented, diminishing her feat. “Plus I did it already. Sort of.”

“I’ve seen people take weeks to put all of that together. You did a good job, stop doubting yourself.” Lace corrected her. God, these two insecure creatures would be the death of her.

“Aftercare is not only physical, but mostly emotional. If your sub wants you close, cuddle them. Jimin looks like the type to want cuddles and reassurance afterwards. Make sure you give plenty. Would you like to explain the drop Vixen?”

“Yes, of course.” Vixen intervened before addressing Princess. “I always like to talk about this subject because it can affect anyone, without any need to get involved in BDSM. ًWhen experiencing an orgasm, our bodies produce an incredible quantity of hormones that make us literally ecstatic. What happens sometimes, especially after long or intense scenes is that our bodies get high on these hormones, experiencing a sense of withdrawal once the rush is over. Such withdrawal, so to say, can cause pretty intense sadness that can lead to numbness, indifference, or even hate and depressive or aggressive behaviours. A good way to slow down this sadness is providing the body with other hormones that usually calm us and relax us. Cuddles and sugars usually are a good way to help the body produce oxytocin — commonly named ‘the hormone of happiness’. It’s the same hormone that spikes when mothers are breastfeeding their babies.” Vixen smiled fondly.

“This is incredible.” Princess said, completely amused. “So cuddles heal both the sub and the dom, I assume.”

“I think so, yes. Usually I’m the cuddler while Joon is the cuddlee during aftercare. Both subs and doms can experience the drop since both suffer the shift in hormones. It’s really about mutual care. Usually though, there are people who suffer more.” Vixen commented.

Lace spoke shyly. “Once I went so hard on a sub that I felt awful with myself after the scene was done.” Lace said. The silence felt heavy, like in some part of her mind Lace was still seeing that scene. “Usually the dom is expected to give the sub water, sweets and a cozy blanket — water for the body fluids, sweets for rebalancing the sugars after an intense effort and the blanket for emotional safety. I remember that one time the sub used the aftercare kit on me. It took me almost an hour to get back on a neutral state of mind.” It was Lace’s turn to be comforted. As Vixen rubbed her friend’s back, Princess spoke.

“So I might experience guilt and sadness afterwards and that’s normal?”

As Lace was still thinking, Vixen spoke up. “It happens, though usually, if your partner reassures you and supports you properly, you should be able to deal with it together with quite some ease. I myself have shouted slurs at my dom in the past during punishment, but that is because pain or anger make you do that. I may have sent him into a drop once, and since that time I always make sure that I praise and cuddle my dom once the scene is over. It’s important that you remind yourself that what is said during an intense scene is due to the sub’s sensations in that moment, therefore you shouldn’t give it much importance. Still, once you have your post-session chat you have every right to say ‘that hurt me, please don’t do that again’. It’s etiquette.” Vixen said with a serious note.

Princess nodded. “So cuddles, water, sweets and a good comfort blanket.”

“Normally, yes.” Vixen replied. “Sometimes shower or bath together, wash your partner clean or have them wash you. For some people physical cleanliness is also spiritual cleanliness. It eases the mind from whatever ‘dirty thing’ you’ve done during the scene. The rest is really what you would normally do during self-care, but with your sub. Facemask? Junk food? Lotion? Massage? Tea? Whatever you like as long as you do it with affection.”

Princess nodded. “This is really helpful. I just need to do anything that Jimin likes, and do it with him.”

“Yes, if he wants you close — which I assume he does, knowing the two of you.” Vixen smiled.

Lace added her own contribution. “If possible, remember to schedule a post-session chat. Whenever it feels comfortable. Normally you wait until all parties have fully recovered before saying ‘let’s talk about it together’, but some subs are already okay talking about it during aftercare. Just make sure that you know how your sub felt about the stuff that you did together, and that you tell them how you felt yourself. This is not one-sided. Power imbalance is limited to the scene: once you’re done, You’re equal again — that’s why a final sentence is necessary. It breaks the power imbalance and repristinates equality. All parties are equally entitled to support and communication.” Lace said, making sure that Princess grasped the concept. That’s where most couples went wrong: communicating.

“Thank you girls.” Princess said gently. “Thank you for the insights, and for your personal experiences.”

“You’re welcome.” Lace said heartily before grinning. “Now, let’s discuss supplies.”

Vixen cheered with a small ‘yes’ at which Lace replied murmuring ‘painslut’, chuckling playfully.

“Let’s start with these.” Lace showed her hands, letting the sleeves of her shirt fall a little, exposing her wrists. “These are your main instruments.” She showed the palms, then the backs. “You can use them everywhere. You can use your whole palm, flat, for a sting and cupped for a thud.”

“What’s that?” Princess asked.

“Vixen.” Lace called.

“A sting is when it prickles and bites, a thud is when it reverberates and goes deeper. You go with a quick, fleeting swat when you go for a sting—the palm must be flat and there must be a bit of wrist game. To deliver a thud, you should let your hand cup slightly and hit hard, keeping your hand pressed where you hit. It’s a matter of angle and speed.” Vixen replied readily, as if she were being asked what is two and two.

Princess grinned and nodded. “I see. Jimin mentioned something about it, but I don’t remember clearly. Which one hurts the most?” Princess asked Vixen.

“Well, it depends. It’s a different kind of pain and it depends on one’s sensitivity. Personally I prefer thuds, because usually it’s the muscle taking most of the impact, in case of traditional, over-the-knee butt spankings. Stings make my eyes water a little, because it hits a smaller area of skin with more pressure. But it really depends on what your sub feels.”

“It is all in the way it is delivered.” Lace stated.

Vixen bit her lip, nodding, and moved on.

“Hands can be also used to slap the face, as we said,— that should be especially clarified during negotiation — but also nipples and genitalia. Also, thighs, calves, hands and feet — though in some cases they might be too mild. Always remember that it is good manners to try the toys on yourself first, especially if it’s a toy you’ve never used before. Get familiar with its weight and density and grip, so you know how it affects you before affecting your sub. Make sure to start slow and eventually intensify, always asking your sub if they’re okay in the first place. Be careful with your sub’s pain threshold: since you don’t have direct perception of how much you’re hurting them, try to increase force and pattern a bit at a time.” Lace explained.

Princess felt sure about the directions. Common sense and the guide told her the same things, which reassured her about the fact that she would remember all the complicated passages. Sure, it would be easier to have an actual practical exercise.

But for now she would make do.

“You ready for the next?”

“Yes.” Vixen replied.

Lace tutted. “The question was not meant for you, menace.” She said, reprimanding a grinning Vixen.

Princess cackled. “Sure.”

Lace picked up another object from her bag. “Here we have a paddle. It can have different shapes and textures. Some contain small indentations, or even spikes. The main features are the handle.” She showed the part. “And a flat surface, used to hit the sub. In terms of tenacity and resistance, mine has a hardwood interior covered in a leather exterior. Oh, and it’s branded.” She showed a red leather heart sewn onto the black leather cover. “It leaves a mark.” Lace smiled cutely. “Best used on wide, fleshy surfaces. Questions?”

Princess shook her head. “Oh, yeah. How much is it?”

Lace twisted the object in her hands. “A good one is around thirty five thousand won or so. If you want something that lasts and that is actually covered in true leather, the price might be higher. I could recommend a shop that sells excellent gear.”

“Thank you. Also, you said it comes in different shapes.”

“Yes. A dom in my dungeon has a pretty extravagant one in a cherry shape.”

“With a double sting?” Vixen asks, eyes almost glittering.

“Yup.”

“Amazing. I had spotted it once but I never bought it. Maybe I’ll have it commissioned.” She mused.

“Joon would?” Lace asked, eyebrows raised.

Vixen shrugged. “I just need to be good — or bad — enough.”

“See, darling, this is a brat.” Lace addressed Princess, pointing at the other girl in the room. “Their anatomy is five percent manners, five percent playfulness and ninety percent utterly smart evil.”

Vixen smiled before cocking her head to the side prettily. “Yes, that’s me.”

Princess bit her lip and smiled. Vixen was a lot more interesting than she thought. All those cute manners and polished looks could not entirely shade the dark magnetism of her eyes. She would pay good money to see what ruckus she could cause with Namjoon in the bedroom. And it would be even more interesting to see what poised, calm Lace could do to teach her how to behave.

Lace put her paddle down before fishing something else from inside her bag. “For tonight let’s cover only the basics. I’ll keep more lowkey devices for another time. Or maybe I could show you what I have and you ask me about what looks interesting to you.”

Princess nodded. “That would be lovely. Plus I’m sure you’ll have to get back to Joon since he’ll want to see you before they leave tomorrow.” Princess asked Vixen.

“I don’t know if I’ll see him— oh, that one looks lovely!” She said, looking at a riding crop from Lace’s collection and distracting herself with it. “Yeah, I told him he should stay at the dorms and rest. His week has been hectic with all the briefings for the press conferences and tv shows.” Vixen explained as she picked up the crop, studying the red, heart-shaped bit.

“Yeah, I figure. Jimin and I are meeting for an early breakfast tomorrow, before they leave.” Princess explained.

Vixen’s fleeting gaze moved away. She seemed visibly unsettled. Still, her mood changed once more as she collected Lace’s paddle from the coffee table, the other woman not even noticing one of her devices had attracted Vixen’s attention.

Vixen rolled it in her palm a couple times, shifting it to feel the weight distribution and the texture.

Princess looked at how she studied the object, carefully taking in every detail. Vixen’s perfectionism showed in that exact moment, in the undisturbed, slow way she felt every ridge and stitch with her fingers. If she could think of an adjective it was ‘thorough’, in the first place. ‘Sensual’ in the second.

Raising an eyebrow and biting her lip, Vixen opened her free hand, lifted the paddle and delivered a heavy thwack.

A shiver ran down Princess’s spine. She could almost feel how Jimin would moan after a smack like that.

Lace turned around, looking at Vixen. “Like it?”

Vixen simply nodded with a wicked smile. “Do you know what wood it is?”

“Not sure, possibly birch or cherry tree. Soft wood but very elastic.” Lace sat upright as she was done taking out all of her collection.

“And the leather is splinter-proof.” Vixen commented.

Lace hummed in confirmation. “See anything interesting, Princess?”

Princess creased her brow. “What about the riding crop?”

Vixen smiled mischievously as Lace wrapped her palm around the handle, lifting the object. “Here. This is a personal riding crop. It has been commissioned specifically for me. It’s my favourite and somehow my brand.” She smiled fondly as she studied it. “However, I would say one should never grow fond of a vulnerable thing such as a riding crop. They break fairly easily. Anyway — the general traits of a riding crop are the shaft, the handle and the tip. In terms of length, I normally recommend minimum sixty centimeters, to increase flexibility and impact strength. The shaft should be elastic, but not too much or it loses impact strength and a submissive usually doesn’t want the whoosh without the smash.”

Vixen giggled at her side.

“What is that?” Princess asked, frowning.

Opening her palm, Lace calculated the distance and whipped the leather bit hard against the soft flesh at the base of the thumb. Princess clearly recognised the sound of air whistling before she hit her skin with a thin clap. “That’s what I meant.”

Princess nodded with eager eyes, keeping an amused silence.

“Fiberglass is a good material for beginners. If you’re buying one in person — which I recommend for the first time — make sure that it can make a forty-five degree angle when you bend the tip towards the handle. A forty to fifty degrees with a fair amount of resistance means it’s flexible enough, just make sure that it’s not too close to the breaking point. The handle is normally made of leather or very good rubber to improve the grip. Some cheap riding crops — also, the ones not intended for BDSM purposes — come with a strap to slip your wrist into. I recommend you don’t use the strap or that you remove it completely because first, you shouldn’t need it and second, you should avoid everything that keeps you from interrupting the scene and comforting your sub as quickly as possible. Sometimes even a couple seconds can be very important when it comes to subdrop. Remember this at all time, in all scenes. Remove everything that could keep you from helping your sub.”

“Okay. But if my riding crop falls?”

Lace smiled darkly. “Trust me dear, you’ll hold on to that as if it were the sceptre of England.” Princess laughed. “And if it falls, it’s usually a sign of poor mastering of your tools. Train yourself. You can use a dense pillow to learn the variety of strokes that a crop can deliver. It can be used for sensation play, simply rubbing your sub’s skin, caressing it, spending some time to arouse them before the whipping starts—”

Vixen purred at that.

Princess thought of Jimin biting his plump lips, eyelids fluttering at the gentle touch of the leather tickling his body.

“Are you with me?” Lace called for Princess’ attention, an amused grin on her face. Lace almost wanted to congratulate her for staying focused for so long.

“Yeah, just — thinking.”

Lace exhaled and wore a grin on her face. “I get that. Let me just finish this and we can take a pause. The tip is the important part of the crop. Mine has a fancy, heart-shaped tip, however, the best standard ones have triangular or rectangular tips that are a couple fingers wide on the very tip and restrict around the head of the stick.”

“Sounds nice.” Princess said.

“It is.” Vixen mused. “As Lace said, riding crops aren’t excessively difficult to use, if one has the patience to learn the basics and take some time to experiment. They can offer plenty of freedom to the dom in terms of use since they can be incredibly harsh, but also extremely light and gentle. You can use them on most spanking areas: breasts and nipples, feet, thighs, ass, shoulders and genitals, both male and female. Also the face, if you’re being light-handed enough.”

“Jesus, you’re wicked.” Lace snickered.

Vixen shrugged. “Says you.”

Princess looked at the exchange quite amused. “Okay. I think I got it. Oh, isn’t that a flogger?”

“Yes, it is. But that is for your sophomore lessons. For now, let’s stick to the beginner deals.” Lace said, slowing down Princess’ enthusiasm.

“Oh.” The other answered, taken aback.

“The bigger the toy, the more difficult it is to use it. Floggers, also called multi-tailed whips, are unpredictable because the whips are really flexible, usually made of leather, and very light. You must have excellent wrist flexibility and great spatial awareness. Once you can use your crop with your eyes closed, then you can consider learning the basics of flogging.”

“Okay. I assume canes and that fancy thing over there are off-limit too.” Princess noticed.

“Isn’t that a cat-o-nine-tales?” Vixen said, wide eyed. “It’s been years since I last saw one. Since my training.” Vixen shivered. “He had silver studs on the tips.”

“Did he ever use it on you?” Lace asked, very serious.

“Once. I didn’t speak to him for a week afterwards.” Vixen said, gaze empty. “I’ve never seen one like that in my life, though. Are those flowers?”

“Yes.They have a silver bead in the middle with some petals around it. The effect is very unusual, or so I’ve been told.” Lace answered with a chuckle. “It was a gift from one of my students. Lovely girl. Kinkier than hell.” Lace smiled and took the toy. “See. Those are meant to hurt. Mark or scar even, in some cases.” She showed the appendage to Princess.

“I don’t like that.” She replied with tiny hesitance.

“The cane is also a vicious one.” Lace suggested.

“The first time I safeworded was with a cane.” Vixen said with a meditative smile. “It hurts like hell. Normally I can take around forty to fifty spanks. I couldn’t handle ten with a cane.”

“I don’t think I like that either. My favourite so far are the paddle and the riding crop. I think Jimin likes the paddle, or at least the idea of it. The riding crop is… for personal reasons.”

“Excellent choice.” Lace grabbed a glass of water and drank, easing her mouth and throat after all the talking. “A riding crop can really gratify a dom at their first experience. You can study it, if you want to.” Lace encouraged Princess to hold the toy and look at it from up close.

Princess thanked her before lifting the crop from the table. “It’s very light.”

“Indeed. It’s a lot lighter than a paddle, that’s why it’s a personal favourite to most female doms. Plus it can be used to praise and to punish, making it a tool of great versatility.”

Princess studied the handle, with a thick leather band wrapped around the stick to grant a good grip. Lace, previously standing, bent down behind Princess. “The leather has been treated so to reduce any slipping.” She corrected Princess’ grip around the handle, placing her hand wrapped tight around it and fixing her thumb. “Like this.” Next, she placed the tip on the flat of the opposite hand. “Always make sure that there are no loose stitches here. Make sure that the spot where the tip meets the stick isn’t rough or hard or juts out in a way that could cut the skin.” She fingered the spot, tracing it. “Also remember to check the flexibility, see?” Lace made Princess’ fingers wrap around that spot, making her push it towards the butt of the handle. The sensation was extremely elastic, with a bit of give still, but far more resistance. “That is good elasticity for a versatile crop. Try it on your forearm.” She suggested, pushing Princess’ shirt upwards.

A bit hesitant, Princess lifted her dominant arm up. Lace corrected her stance, repositioning her elbow. “You only need to do a slight rotation of your forearm for now. Keep your elbow still and smack your forearm down, like you were arm wrestling but with more snap.”

Princess nodded, her eyes closing before she let her arm snap. First she heard the ‘whoosh’ of the stick cut through the air, and then the snapping sound, like a dry cracking.

“Good one. Did it hurt?”

Princess tutted. “Not too bad. The bite was pleasing.”

The sound awakened Vixen from her trance. She had been staring at the paddle for a few minutes, thinking.

“Try using it feather-light now. Like it was a make-up brush on your skin.” Lace placed the tip of the crop on Princess skin with the lightest pressure, the touch so soft that the tip didn’t even bend a little to accommodate the skin. It was simply lingering, grazing.

“I really like it. I think I’d love to own one.” Princess said enthusiastically. “Would you come with me if I go buy one?” She looked up to her friend.

“Yes, sure. You have my number, we can arrange someday this week, or whenever you like it.” Lace smiled genuinely. Her cheeks puffed up in round apples.

“I think you should check on Vixen.” She whispered.

The girl was being too quiet. It meant she was thinking. Overthinking, if Lace knew her friend well.

“Are you okay?” Lace moved towards Vixen, looking at her vacant stare, her skittish mood and the insecure nibbling on her lower lip.

“Yeah, I was just thinking...” Vixen replied, still unfocused from her surroundings. “I don’t know if Princess is okay with this. It’s her home, after all.”

“What is it?” Asked the other one, immediately alarmed.

“Would it be awkward if we tried a small simulation? Not a scene, just an exercise. For practice.” Vixen proposed. “If you’re all okay with it.”

Lace studied Vixen’s expression. “What about Namjoon?”

“I could ask him. I think he’s awake, I’ll text him. Ask him if it’s okay with him. This is nothing sexual. It’s just for learning purposes.” Vixen shrugged.

A part of Princess’ brain was already seeing it happen, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “If it’s not too much of a bother, I think it would be really helpful to me if you and Lace tried. I don’t think I want to do it myself, but I’d like to watch.” She admitted.

“Are you in the right mindset to do this, sweetie?” Lace asked. “You’ve been on mood swings the whole night. Are you sure?” Lace asked, seriously concerned.

“Yes, I’m sure. Trust me,” Vixen said, reassuring her friend with a kind smile. “I just need to ask Joon.”

Lace thought about it. Doing such a thing with Vixen of course could be extremely helpful to Princess, showing her how a scene worked, however Vixen’s mood swings suggested that she was looking for reassurance, that she was hoping someone would literally spank her negative thoughts out of her. She probably wanted Namjoon instead of Lace, but maybe this mechanism of simulation and education was what she needed to rein in her insecurities. Vixen was a smart woman, extremely aware of her emotions and the mechanisms to handle them. Lace decided. “Okay. Call him.”

“Let me grab my purse, then.” Vixen stood up and reached for her phone at the dining table. “Thank you”, she said to Lace before unlocking her phone and finding Namjoon’s number on her shortcuts.

“Put it on speaker.” Lace told her.

The three women waited expectantly as the ringing echoed through the small room — Lace with cold ice settling in her veins, Princess with ebullient anticipation and curiosity, Vixen with a certain emptiness in her gaze, her free hand toying with the small pendant laying between her collarbones while she rubbed the flat of her upper chest.

The ringing stopped, followed by a couple seconds of silence.

“Hello?”

-----------------------------------------------

Part two here

[alliecorinneee]

Ayda and Fig Coffee Shop Fluff

·       Ayda shows up 20 minutes early to get used to the space (the music, the talking, the smells, the ambient coffeeshop noises without Fig’s distracting… um, everything)

·       She would wait to order a drink until Fig got there so she wouldn’t finish her drink faster than Fig or have it gotten cold while waiting for Fig

·       She gets a table; the baristas know her and know she will get a drink when her girlfriend gets there

·       Ayda kind of watches and takes mental notes of things to mention to Fig when she gets there

·       Ayda has a compass points canvas bag that Fig and Kristin helped her make and Adaine gave her buttons and patches

o   The buttons are Fig and the Sig Figs, rainbows, she/her pronoun, punny pins about books and spells and other magic things. Also, buttons are separated so they don’t click against each other.

·       The bag is full of textbooks, spell books, one or two of the books on autism that Jawbone gave her (the book/s are full of sticky notes and bookmarks. Passages are highlighted, only in her books that she owns, and notes fil the margins)

·       After a few minutes of getting okay with the setting, Ayda pulls a couple books out and starts laying out the order of her work she wants to get done at the coffeeshop while trying to be realistic about the amount of time she will be paying attention to Fig (purposefully and not purposely)

·       Fig walks in about 5 minutes before the planned time, but looks like she is STRUGGLING.

·       She goes straight to the counter to order her coffee (black coffee with splash of vanilla) and Ayda’s drink (straight up latte) and then looked around to find where Ayda was. She knows Ayda gets there early (and Fig respects that Ayda needs time alone) so she just tries to find where Ayda set up.

·       She is at a table in the back and her nose was deep in a book, but she seems to feel Fig looking at her because she looks up and makes eye contact.

·       Fig motions to the counter hopefully signaling that she got hers and Ayda’s coffee. Ayda just sends a message cantrip you her and says “I think you are saying you got our coffee and thank you for that, but the pointing was kind of confusing. I thought this would be easier”

·       Fig nods and says, “Fair. Sorry, tired. Be over in a sec.” Ayda nods and dismisses the spell.

·       Fig hears the barista call out their drinks and grabs both the mugs after adjusting her bag to make sure she can carry everything and not spill the drinks.

·       She focuses intensely on the full mugs and begins walking toward Ayda.

·       Ayda focuses on Fig. Fig is wearing ripped black jeans, combat boots that make her slightly taller, but not nearly as tall as Ayda, and she is wearing a t-shirt with the original neck cut out so her collarbone and tank top straps are visible.

·       Ayda notes the Fig’s bag was haphazardly swinging as she was walking with the two mugs. Although Fig was focusing on the mugs and to not spill them, she was not watching the tables or chairs that were in her way. She was slightly kicking the chairs and table legs in her way but definitely testing her luck.

·       Ayda moves the last few chairs out of the way with a spell just to make sure that Fig makes it to the table with less distractions

·       Fig gets to the table, very proud and smiling, Ayda can’t help but smile back at her. They both kind of giggle as she sets the coffees on the table. Fig slumps down in the chair looking exhausted with a lazy smile.

·       Ayda says, “Good morning Fig. I can see you may be a bit tired. Is there anything I can do to help at all? I am pretty awake, but I can also be quiet and slow down if you would like.”

·       Figs smile grows as Ayda talk. She loves when Ayda tries to help on things that are commonplace and remind Fig how lucky she is to have her.

·       Ayda takes note: explaining more could get Fig to smile at her.

·       Fig says, “Eh it’s okay, just need to drink this coffee and I’ll be a lot more awake. Did anything happen this morning before I got here?”

·       Ayda settles after Fig’s confirmation that the coffee will help and then goes to talk about the interesting things she had observed.

·       Fig started drinking her coffee and taking in everything Ayda was saying while also just watching her. She noticed Ayda hadn’t been making eye contact while she was talking. This made it easier to take Ayda in. She was wearing plaid high waisted crop pants with her shirt tucked into them. She was wearing a white sweater tank that has a turtleneck. Fig notes that the shirt is very flattering because Ayda’s arms are fully on display. It is actually pretty distracting. Fig has realized that Ayda has stopped talking and is looking at Fig. Fig has also realized she has been looking at Ayda’s arms for way too long.

·       Ayda is looking at Fig and trying to decipher what Fig was looking at, realizing it was her arms, Ayda starts looking at her arms and squinting and concentrating. She then asks, “Do I have something on my arms? Are my tattoos shining weird? You have been looking at them for a significant amount of time, so something must be not normal.”

·       Fig blushed deeply and stutters out, “ oh… um I uh No. There is nothing not normal about your arms.”

·       Ayda cocks her head and says, “ That was a double negative, but what I think you were trying to say was maybe There is nothing wrong or everything is okay about my arms.” Ayda pauses, looks at Fig and makes a list. 1. Fig’s cheeks were pinker than her normal coloring 2. Fig was staring at the table and not making eye contact 3. Fig seemed like she was fully awake now

·       Ayda turns her arms over and over and twisted her shoulders just to move her arms under her eyes. She looks back up at Fig. Fig has yet to look up.

·       Ayda starts to put the pieces together and smiles. “You were looking at my arms, on purpose.” She did not think that Fig’s cheeks could get pinker. She was wrong.

·       Fig finally looked up without really moving her head. Her eyes met Ayda’s and she slouches a bit in her chair to look directly at Ayda.

·       “Maybe I… Maybe I was,” and Fig’s face was burning, but she wanted to make her point clear to Ayda. She took a deep breath and made eye contact with Fig. “Yes. I was looking at your arms because” She takes another deep breath. Because they look really uh they look really good in that shirt, “ but she is fully mumbling.

·       Ayda cocks her head again. “Wait, you spoke rather quickly, and I did not catch all of it. You said you were looking because…” and left it open ended.

·       Fig’s voice bursts out, “YOUR ARMS LOOK REALLY GOOD RIGHT NOW!”

·       Fig and Ayda’s eyes both widen.

·       Fig, because she realized she kind of yelled that at Ayda in a pretty public place. She did not want to know if anyone heard and definitely couldn’t turn around to check.

·       Ayda was surprised by the volume but was still able to put the puzzle pieces together.

o   Fig always suggested to go fly which resulted in Ayda carrying Fig in her arms

o   Fig was prone to tracing Ayda’s tattoos up and down her arms

o   Fig seemed flustered when Ayda came back from a long fly or sparing.

o   Conclusion: Fig liked Ayda’s arms. Significantly.

·       Ayda files this knowledge with all of her other Fig facts.

·       Ayda smiles very big, lets out a tiny screech and visibly relaxes. She looks up to meet Fig’s eyes, flexes her arms and says, “This shirt does allow for a lot of my arm to be visible.”

·       Fig’s jaw drops and under her breath says, “Holy shit” in response to the automatic flex Ayda did once she complimented Ayda’s arms. Fig is really trying to not combust. It is too early, and she had not come close to finishing her coffee. Ayda was flirting and just sitting there like that and Fig was not prepared.

·       Ayda smiles again and asks, “Are you going to keep staring at me or are we going to get some work done?” Ayda grabs Fig’s hands to convey that her question was genuine.

·       Fig blushes for a third time, or maybe she never truly stopped, squeezes Ayda’s hands and mumble, “Let’s get some work done.”

·       Ayda focuses back on her spell books, takes notes, does research. Follows her routine she has set for herself to make sure she gets the most amount of work done she can but also enjoy Fig’s company.

·       Fig pulls her notebook out of her bag. The black journal it started as is now covered with stickers and patches. It’s not dirty, it’s loved. The elastic band around it is the only thing holding it together with all the random napkins and pieces of paper that she has written lyrics on when her notebook wasn’t with her.

·       Fig sits with one of her legs folded so her knee is in the air close to her cheek and Ayda starts sitting straight up but hunches as she gets more focused on what she is doing.

·       They both work in comfortable silence only broken when one of them need a break or one catches the other staring.

[slash-em-up]

A Meeting of the Minds pt. 6: The Collector x Reader x ChromeSkull

This is my first time writing poly-smut so please bare with me 😂

Oh yeah, hella NSFW content below!

———————————————————————

Asa’s house was the officially-unofficial home base for your triad.

Jesse liked to whine that it was too cramped and smelled like mothballs; but you’d found him napping in the sunlight on the quaint window seat one too many times to fully believe in his disdain.

Since you’d been living with Asa for several months before you three became You Three, you couldn’t complain either.

All your stuff was here… and the last time you’d spent a week at Jesse’s house you’d ended up getting locked in his high-tech wine cellar. Not fun. Temperature controlled. And you couldn’t bring yourself to bust open a bottle to quell your anxiety since you knew they probably cost upwards of a thousand dollars each.

No, Asa’s cozy suburban home was much better for you.

Unsurprisingly, the room the three of you most often found yourselves in was Asa’s library. It was technically a third bedroom; but as Asa didn’t have children, didn’t have relatives, didn’t really have… friends… there was no point in furnishing it as one.

Which lent itself very well to your current situation.

The antique loveseat was lightly padded and comfortable just as long as you had a large man to lean against.

You smiled down at your book as you snuggled closer into Asa’s shoulder, pulling the warmth from his body as he perused his own text.

Jesse was off god knows were in the house; but since you hadn’t heard any loud noises or smelled smoke yet, you weren’t concerned.

Your taller partner never did things by halves.

Speaking of which…

The door to the small library creaked open, allowing Jesse entry.

His face was healing nicely after his last surgery, and the scar tissue that would normally be pulling at his eye sockets and under-jaw when he grinned was fading fast.

But what was far more interesting to you – and Asa when he deigned to raise his glasses-covered gaze from his book – was that Jesse seemed to have lost his shirt…

He leaned against the doorframe in what one could only describe as a provocative manner, and waved his fingers slowly at the two of you.

The sunlight filtering in through the single window of the room kissed Jesse’s chest, highlighting the supple curvature of his shoulders and the delightful tautness of his abdomen. The tattoos covering his torso moved as he flexed slightly – preening at the intense and hungry stares he was being thrown from Asa and yourself.

Asa licked his lips and broke the silence.

“What are you doing, Jesse?”

Moving from his leaning stance, Jesse prowled across the wood floor, brown eye flicking from you, to Asa, and back again.

‘I’m bored. Thought I’d come and see if you two wanted some company…’

You grinned, already seeing where this was going, and subtly leaned away from Asa; allowing his legs to unconsciously part and fill your recently vacated space.

Surprising the man at your side, you pulled the book from his loose grasp, taking care to mark his page as you began kissing his cheek and mouthing at his ear.

Asa stiffened at this unexpected (to him at least) turn of events, and released a silent gasp of air as Jesse dropped to his knees in front of the sitting man, gently, but firmly muscling his way in-between the trouser-covered thighs of your partner.

You reached up to grab Asa’s glasses from his slack face, bringing his attention to you for a moment – which was all the distraction Jesse needed to begin mouthing wantonly at Asa’s crotch.

Reaching out, you began to run your fingers lightly across Jesse’s skull as he teased Asa through his pants.

Asa was trying to maintain his stoic façade as you began kissing his neck – happily free of his normal turtleneck – and Jesse rose just enough to undo Asa’s fly with his teeth, rising further with a satisfied grin as Asa’s thick cock sprung up hard and ready from his slacks.

Growling lowly in his throat, Asa pulled you away from his neck, grasping at your hair and kissing you hard.

Once you were throughly kissed, he met your glazed eyes with an intense look.

“Go get your st-Ahhhhh - your strapon. I want you to fu-uuucckkkk Jesse…”

…Maybe not as intimidating or dominating as he had initially planned; but as Jesse was currently making a valiant attempt at deepthroating his cock you’d give him a break.

The filthy wet sounds of Jesse’s mouth sucking and swallowing around Asa was nearly enough to keep you glued to your seat; but Jesse’s hands were already working frantically at his own pants and at the first glimpse of his tight ass you were flying out of the room and up the stairs in search of your lube and strap.

You fumbled around in your dresser for several moments before locating your silicone toy – pausing for a moment before also pulling out a sleek leather riding crop that Jesse had gifted to you as a gag. Well maybe you’d see how funny he thought the joke was when he was on the receiving end of it.

Flicking the thin rod, you were delighted by the sound it made as it cut through the still air.

Smirking, you jogged out of the room and back down to the library.

Jesse was fully nude by the time you arrived, and he’d worked Asa out of his pants as well – using the broad mans firm thighs as handles while he lifted his head up and down on the now thoroughly drenched length.

Asa’s eyes were vacant and his mouth hung open as you sauntered into the room, letting out a soft moan at the sight of the two men before you.

Awareness returned to black eyes as he noticed the crop held loosely in your hand.

The slight smirk that crossed his lips was far more suited to his nighttime persona than the unassuming scientist he showed the world, and without a thought he reached out to grasp Jesse’s wrists, holding the man in place so you could have your fun with him.

At the first slide of leather against his skin Jesse jerked up – or tried to. Asa anticipated his movement and loosened his grip on one wrist to push Jesse’s hot mouth back to his cock.

He nodded at you to continue.

SMACK

Jesse’s spine stiffened. His broad shoulders pulled in towards each other before relaxing entirely.

His ass swayed enticingly as he started bobbing up and down once more on Asa’s cock.

SMACK SMACK SMACK

Asa hissed through his teeth.

“I can feel him moaning…”

Jesse’s hands were curled into claws against the skin of Asa’s thighs, and you watched in pure arousal as they spasmed and flexed with each swat of the leather crop against his flesh.

After several more hard strikes you dropped the rod to the floor, flustered hands pulling at your clothes in an effort to get as naked as Jesse was.

Your panties were already a mess as you slid them down your legs, swapping them quickly for your harness and tightening the straps with practiced movements.

Shirt and bra fell to the floor as well, and by the time you were ready Asa had pulled Jesse off of him – too close to his finish to let the man continue… and he wanted to play more.

Allowing himself to be manhandled, Jesse was left in a sprawl over the settee. A huffing breath was forced from his chest when Asa rose to circle his nude form, running a hand lightly along his spine before kicking his long legs wide – making room for you to move in.

You knew the bald man had more than a bit of a masochistic streak in him, enjoying both giving and receiving a little pain with his pleasure, so you were by no means gentle as your fingers found Jesse’s tight entrance and began stretching him.

Asa watched, leaning casually against the back of the seat as Jesse stretched forward – unbalancing himself to pull Asa down into a rough kiss.

You pressed the bulbous head of your fake cock against the firm ass in front of you and watched as Jesse fell apart in Asa’s arms.

Unlike the doctor, Jesse had no shame nor reticence in expressing his enthusiasm for the pleasure you both gave him.

As your thrusts picked up speed, the tall man followed your movements with his hips, canting them up or down in an effort to feel every inch of your length as it entered and exited his body.

Watching you take your lover apart, Asa stood, removing the last of his clothing before slowly stroking his arousal - eyes taking in every heaving bounce of your breasts; every silent cry of pleasure you pulled from Jesse – until he couldn’t stand it a second longer.

Grasping Jesse by the neck, Asa lifted him just the slightest bit – Jesse’s formidable height making the positioning slightly awkward – and offered his dripping length once more to the man.

Jesse didn’t pause for more than a moment before taking Asa back into his throat; alternating between grinding against your hard thrusts, and then moving forward to choke himself on Asa’s cock.

With a gasp and a cutoff moan, Asa came into Jesse’s mouth, quickly pulling away to sit panting on the settee.

You groaned as you watched Jesse’s Adam’s apple bob – knowing from experience that Jesse had little to no gag reflex, and that he loved the way Asa blushed when he swallowed his cum.

Not to be outdone, Asa rose, trying to pretend his legs weren’t shaking from the epic orgasm he’d just experienced. Coming up behind your thrusting form, he pressed himself against your back, bringing one hand around to slip under your harness and rub pleasingly against your clit.

You tossed your head back against his shoulder and let him take the lead – guiding your hips with his own until you could see Jesse shake as he tried to hold on just a little longer.

One too many tight circles of talented fingers was enough to make you cry out as your orgasm overtook you.

Asa pressed you forward – giving one, two, three more rough thrusts into Jesse’s body before he too was pushed over the edge – crumbling down to fall against the settee as his white cum painted across the floor.

You dropped heavily onto Jesse’s heaving back - wrapping your arms across his shoulders to hold yourself up.

The room was silent for a minute as the three of you fought to come back down to earth.

“… fuck...” you gasped.

The sweat-slick body moved beneath you as Jesse huffed in amusement. He definitely agreed with the sentiment.

Asa crouched down beside the two of you, looking as much like the cat that ate the canary as he could. He watched with obvious fascination at the contrast between Jesse’s tattoo covered skin and your own as you continued to regain your breath together.

You rose just long enough to yank a thin quilt from the back of the loveseat and lay it flat over the wood floor.

Rolling off of Jesse you spread yourself across the blanket, breath finally back under control, sighing contentedly as the sun warmed your naked body.

An eye slit open ever so slightly to watch with amusement as Jesse used what you suspected was a wrestling move to grab Asa and toss him onto the blanket next to you.

The broad man grumbled and growled at the rough treatment before settling begrudgingly at your side.

Jesse crawled to press himself skin to skin against your back, releasing a deep breath of contentment as his arm came to rest next to Asa’s over your waist.

What a perfect way to spend a Saturday.

[unapologeticallyjaylos]

descendants 12 days of holidays: snow

title: let it snow 

rating: a few curse words maybe 

pairings: jay x carlos ; evie x mal 

this is a total rough draft :) but i jumped on an idea and ran with it so... 

-----

Carlos’ face was cold. His nose was cold. His ears were cold. Everything was cold.

“Remind me never to go agree to go shopping with Evie in December,” he said to his dog, glancing down at the little pup who was rightfully bundled into a small sweater. “It’s just too damn cold.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” a voice behind him laughed. He turned to see Evie - somehow dressed warmly to the nines in a fluffy knit scarf and thigh high boots - standing right behind him. “Besides, we’ll be inside shops mostly, and it’ll be warm in there. It’s so cute out here in December. You’ve been in the library for weeks - it’s time to take a little break!”  

“I’m trying to get into college,” he mumbled, noting the wreaths and lights decorating the quaint downtown shopping area. He had to admit - the place did look a hell of a lot more festive than the library.

“I know.” She squeezed his shoulder and began to move towards the closest storefront. “But it’s okay to have a little fun.” Evie glanced over her shoulder with a little wink. “Maybe you’ll even meet someone.”

“Doubtful.” Carlos gathered Dude into his arms and followed her. “Just because you met your girlfriend at the art showcase in downtown doesn’t mean it’s matchmaking central!”

Her laugh rang out as she opened the door, holding it for him to step inside. The store turned out to be one of Evie’s favorite boutiques (and he secretly wondered if she’d told him to meet nearby on purpose). Even some of the employees seemed to know her by name.

Now that they were inside - and his body was starting to thaw out - he was feeling a bit more excited. Carlos really did love trying on clothes and browsing the latest styles.

“You should definitely get this,” Evie laughed, holding up a black and white cropped sweater.

“I’m cold in an actual coat!” Carlos laughed, shaking his head. “I think I’ll freeze to death if I cut off any more material!”

“But you would look so sexy,” Evie grinned, her eyes gleaming. After a moment, she picked up a slimp-fitted, black and white turtleneck. “Come on, Carlitos, what about this one? Will you try it on? For me?”

Rolling his eyes, the corners of Carlos’ mouth tugged into a reluctant smile. Evie really was so cute - her nose still pink from the cold and eyes bright with the idea of shopping the entire afternoon together. And she did have a good eye - the sweater really was perfect for him. So, he found his size and slipped into one of the fitting rooms.

“How does it look?” came Evie’s eager voice from the other side of the curtain. “Am I a genius or am I a genius?”

Carlos tilted his head, staring at himself in the mirror. The sweater hugged his body nicely, and the color scheme matched his own perfectly (which really wasn’t hard since he tended to stick to black, white, and red).

“You’re gonna make me buy this, aren’t you?” Carlos laughed, turning his body to see the sweater from all angles.

“I don’t know.” That spark was back - this time in Evie’s voice. “You haven’t let me see it, yet.”

He pulled aside the curtain, fidgeting with the sleeve nervously. Carlos didn’t need Evie to say anything to know exactly what she thought; her face lit up like it always did when she’d found the perfect material or finally settled on the right neckline style for her dress designs. She was hoping to get into design school, and personally, Carlos considered her the best designer he knew.

“You like it.” He folded his arms. “I can tell.”

“I -” Evie bit her lip to keep from smiling too hard. “It’s just so you. But I won’t force you to get it. I know money is tight around the holidays.”

Carlos nodded, checking the price tag. It was way out of his usual price range, and even though he had a little saved up from working overtime at the animal shelter, he wasn’t ready to blow it all on one sweater - even if it was a pretty good one. “Evie… there’s no way. I haven’t even spent this much groceries this month, how can I -”

“I’ll get it.” Evie was already pulling out her wallet.

But Carlos stopped her, shaking his head. “No, no. You already agreed - no charity. I can handle myself.”

“It’s not charity.” She met his gaze. “It’s a Christmas present. From me to you.”

Rubbing his forehead, Carlos sighed. He hated that a part of him was actually considering believing her. “If you get this for me now,” he warned. “No more presents. This is the only one, alright? I’ll wear it on Christmas Eve, but you can’t get me anything else!”

“Deal!” Evie practically squealed the word.

Carlos moved to change back into his other clothes, but she stopped him, insisting he should wear it out. And - because, really, he did like the thing - Carlos agreed.

It had started to snow outside and when they stepped out to untie Dude from the post out front, Carlos hurriedly picked him up and whispered apologies in his ear.

“It’s too cold to leave him outside anymore,” he told Evie, gesturing at the fat white flakes floating lazily to the ground. “I don’t care what the shop owners say.”

“We should get something to warm up,” Evie announced, her breath making white clouds in the freezing air. Snowflakes nestled themselves in her curls, popping brilliant against the blue hair.

“There’s a coffee shop down across the street.” Carlos pointed to the awning. He could definitely go for a hot chocolate.

“Uh -” Evie blinked, an unreadable expression flitting across her face for half a second. “Actually, I was thinking we could go to a different one. There’s a shop just down here that has the best drinks. And it’s dog friendly!” She took off, walking briskly.

Puzzled, Carlos followed. “How often do you get coffee down here?”

“As much as I shop.”

“So all the time, then.”

They walked together through the snow, and by the time they reached the coffee shop, Carlos’ entire face was numb again. He didn’t hate the snow, but he definitely prefer not to be outside in it. He liked to be at the library - curled up with tea and a book, maybe - warm and cozy while the snow fell just beyond the large bay windows.

The bell on the door jingled as they stepped inside and suddenly, Carlos’ nostrils were warmed by the scent of freshly roasted coffee. Machines hissed behind the counter, and every few moments, steam would rise up.

“E!”

Carlos - who was still clutching Dude to his chest - turned towards the voice. A familiar purple-haired girl was walking towards them.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Evie positively giggled, leaning forward to peck her girlfriend’s lips.

Mal grinned, as if the two of them were somehow in on a joke. “Nice to see you, Carlos. How’s the library been?”

“Evie,” Carlos groaned. “What are you telling her?”

“Not much.” Mal nudged him playfully. “Just that you’ve been holed inside that building all holiday season long under the pretense of college apps.”

Carlos folded his arms, trying to hide his smile. “Pretense, huh? What does she think I’m doing all day, then? Enjoyed the company of the librarians?”

“What’s good?” a new voice asked, and suddenly, their circle widened to include a guy with long, dark hair and… very well built biceps. Well- built… everything, actually. “Mal? Oh, hey again, Eves. You ever finish that blue dress you were working on?”

Evie clasped her hands together - looking pleased he’d remembered. “Hi, Jay. Yes, I did. It’s going to look so lovely when the material comes in. At first I thought I’d ordered enough chiffon, but as it turned out -” She stopped short, shaking her head. “But never mind all that. I - uh - don’t think you and Carlos have met, yet.”

Carlos suddenly felt very small. He clutched Dude tighter, shifting from foot to foot. The guy - Jay - was without a doubt attractive, and he sounded genuinely excited to see Evie. How long had she known this guy? She’d never talked about a gorgeous guy with long hair and a laugh that made his gut flutter just a little. A lot.

“Uh -” he swallowed hard, his fingers curling around the neck of Dude’s sweater. “Hi. I’m Carlos. But - yeah, she already… she already said that.”

“Cute pup.”

For a wild moment, Carlos thought Jay had called him “Pup” - Evie was always insisting he looked like a puppy - but then he remembered that he was holding a dog. “This is Dude.” He smiled down at his dog.

“He’s got a sweater.” Jay looked genuinely amused, and Carlos figured it was a good sign that he wasn’t weirded out already. “And,” he winked. “I think he might look almost as handsome as you do in yours.”

Carlos nearly took a step backwards. Was Jay flirting with him? “Uh - thanks. I - do I know you? From somewhere?”

“School,” Jay answered, nodding his head slightly. “I see you around campus all the time. You’re like… a genius, right? You’ve won the science fair like… every year. And you won the robotics competition or something about a month ago.”

“Oh, so you’ve been stalking me?” Carlos laughed, his eyebrows shooting up. He couldn’t quite tell if he liked the butterflies that had taken root in his chest. “How come -”

“Trust me,” Jay said with another cocky toss of his head. “All the bad kids know the good kids because we can get something from you nerds. You just don’t pay us any attention because, well, why should you?”

So that’s what all that charm was, Carlos nodded, feeling almost relieved that he’d found an explanation. He wants me to do his homework or something.

Mal smacked Jay’s arm, rolling his eyes. “Christ,” she muttered, and Carlos suddenly remembered that the girls were standing right there.

“Carlos also spends all his time studying these days,” Evie jumped in. “I’m always telling him that it’s okay to get out a little.”

“You wanna order drinks?” Carlos glanced up at the counter; he still hadn’t forgotten about that hot chocolate.

“I already got E something.” Mal pointed to a table in the corner with three cups. “She usually swings by around this time, and I know her order. Jay, you wanna go with Carlos to order something?”

“Sure.” Jay extended his hands in a mock gesture forward. “After you.”

Carlos handed Dude to Evie before joining the back of the line - which was much longer now that the novelty of the snow had worn off and other holiday shoppers needed warmth.

“Let me guess -” Jay held up a hand, squinting at the menu. “You like peppermint mochas.”

“Wrong.” Carlos shook his head. “Hot chocolate.”

“Damn.” Jay shook his head. “I didn’t get the flavor or the drink.”

“Well, I like chocolate everything.” That was definitely true, and he was man enough to admit it. “Cocoa mocha would’ve been a much better guess for me.” He studied Jay’s face, narrowing his eyes as the line slowly inched towards the register. “Let me guess your drink… black coffee. No cream.”

Jay’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. You really are a genius.”

Carlos tried to keep a straight face, but his face quickly split into a smile and he even snorted a bit. “Or two of the drinks on the table Mal pointed to back there were black coffees. Neither seemed to have cream, and the other drink had to be Evie’s because she always likes hers super blonde.”

“I mean,” Jay made a face. “I’ll give you points for conversation skills.”

Once Carlos ordered his hot chocolate, the two of them moved off to the side to wait for it.

“You’re actually in my health class,” Jay said offhandedly, taking Carlos by surprise.

“I am?” He frowned, trying to remember if he’d ever seen Jay in there. “Fourth period?”

“Yeah.” Jay raised his arms half heartedly. “I’m in the back by that poster of the awful car wreck.”

“The Metal Monster?” Carlos asked excitedly. “That’s what Evie and I call it. It’s just a hunk of shredded metal - fucking terrifiyng. You know, I hate that they use fear tactics to try and scare us into being good drivers and citizens and sexually active teens. It’s like they take joy in watching kids shit their pants every time they try and tell us about STDs.”

Jay threw back his head, laughing, and that good feeling flared up inside Carlos again. He was definitely warm now. Most people didn’t find Carlos funny. Actually, most people didn’t talk to him much at all unless they were asking to be in a group project so he could do all the work or to beg for last minute homework answers.

“You know,” Jay smiled, jerking his head towards Mal and Evie. “When Mal mentioned Evie was bringing her cute, smart friend today, I definitely didn’t expect you to actually fit the description.”

Wait a second.

Carlos’ eyes narrowed. “Evie mentioned that she was bringing me?”

The new sweater, the shopping trip, the specific coffee shop… Evie was definitely without a doubt one hundred percent trying to set him up with Jay.

“That sneaky little shit,” Carlos muttered, shaking his head. “I really should’ve known. She’s not as subtle as she thinks she is.”

“What?”

Shaking his head, Carlos ran a hand through his hair. “Evie. She’s trying…” he lowered his voice, glancing over at the girls who were pretending like they weren’t watching him. “She’s trying to, um, get me to be more social.” He wouldn’t admit to Jay that Evie was trying to play matchmaker. Jay would get weirded out, and then Carlos would have to make some sort of joke about it and he’d be crushed.

Shit, Carlos sighed inwardly. You’ve been talking to this guy for maybe ten minutes and you’re already crushing on him. This isn’t like you, de Vil. 

“More social?” Jay looked at him, his eyebrows knitting together. “As in…”

“Making friends.” Carlos waved his hand dismissively. “Going on dates. Not… spending all my time inside the library because everyone else has a boyfriend around the holidays and you don’t.”

He paused, his heart pounding; he’d sort of accidentally outed himself. Carlos wasn’t scared necessarily - most people knew he was gay - but there was still a shot of fear every time someone new found out. He looked up at Jay, setting his jaw and waiting for a reaction.

“Not Evie.” Jay laughed and pointed to the girls again. “Evie’s got a girlfriend. Not a boyfriend. And you said everyone has a boyfriend.”

Relief flooded Carlos’ limbs and he smiled. “You know,” he said, pretending to be serious. “I really should’ve used you to vet Mal. Is she gonna take care of my girl? Treat her right?”

“Yeah.” The laughter and easy charm vanished from Jay’s face for a moment; he was serious. “She’s good.” After a few moments, he raised an eyebrow. “You know, you could have Mal vet me.”

“Vet you?” Carlos folded his arms. “And why would I do that?”

Before Jay could answer, the man at the counter called Carlos’ name and he stepped forward to grab his drink, wrapping his hands around the warm paper cup.

“I suppose we should sit back down,” Carlos laughed. “Or else face the endless teasing from Evie and Mal.”

“Wait.” Jay held up a hand. “Just - before we sit - I wanted to ask you out. Doesn’t have to be… big or anything - just - a coffee date?”

“It’s supposed to snow all week.” Carlos said it without thinking, and the immediate disappointment that clouded Jay’s face gave him pause. Was Jay being serious? Did this guy actually want to take him out? “Wait - you meant that seriously?”

“If you’re gonna say no,” Jay said. “Then I’m not serious.”

“What if I wanted to say yes?” Carlos couldn’t imagine what Jay would see in him; no one ever saw much in him other than a way to get homework answers and project grades. It was very probable that Jay would just messing with him, waiting for Carlos to agree and then laugh.

But Jay just smiled and chewed his lower lip. “Then I’ll meet you back here on Wednesday. After school. And bring the dog. I wanna see his little sweater again.”

“He’s got more than just that one.” Carlos knew he was blushing.

“Dope.”

----

And if Evie teased him for the rest of eternity, Carlos didn’t care. If Mal nudged Jay every time he went up to talk to him in the hallway at school, he didn’t care.

On a snowy Saturday afternoon inside a bright and warm coffee house wearing a brand new sweater, Carlos found a hell of a lot more than he bargained for.

Who knew, he mused contently, leaning on Jay’s shoulder as Evie’s Christmas Eve party bustled all around them. Who knew the snow and a very nosy best friend would help me find me a boyfriend. 

[thesynthesist]

Put 2000 words into a reasonable second part last night. I wanted to get it finished but there are more words... Take part one in the mean time. If you don’t want to click through, read below the cut

Earth was not a place for impatience. It had been three days since Silas had made landfall after replying to the message he had received from what he assumed to be the only living relative of Dr. Hull, father of androids. Violet still had not contacted him again. What’s more, she wasn’t on the planetary network so there was nothing Silas could do but wait. He didn’t mind that. Earth was the cradle of human and AI civilization, and even so many years after humanity left for the stars, it was still considered a hub of culture for the solar system, if not the wider universe. Colourful buildings of stained glass solar panels and rugged biodegradable plastics sprouted from the ground wherever he looked. Wrapped in plant life that had evolved to tolerate co-habitation, it was beautiful. Here and there if you knew the right places to look, you could find houses from the old prefab subdivisions, with their brick walls and plastic sidings. Buildings older than that were rare and practically on the other side of the planet from where Silas had landed. It was a small thing to bridge that distance these days but he didn’t want to be far from his ship. Instead he was content to explore the immediate area and he was deciding whether or not he should sample some of the regions cuisine despite the fact it would force him to clean out his calorimeter, when a message popped up in the lower right of his vision.   Heard you were planet side, little bro. Let’s meet up. I’d rather not. Silas shot back the message with barely a thought, adding after a moment of consideration. I’m strictly here on business. And as if to back up his claim, he turned and went back to his ship. Suddenly, he had no desire to ingest anything at all. Sid showed up the next day while Silas was watching his mechanical fish. “Woah, you make these?” Silas sighed, “You know it’s rude to come onto someone’s ship without asking.” Sid slung an arm over Silas’s shoulder and Silas got a glimpse of his face int the reflection from the fish tank. The family relationship was strong by human standards. They had the same broad jaw, the same fine black hair -- though Sid’s was wild, and causally styled with gel while Silas kept his cropped to something a little more practical. As model mates they were based off the same base specs. There were plenty of members from their fabrication group, but Sid and Silas had been finished at around the same time near the end, and Sid had decided, not even an hour after he was operational, that Silas was his little brother and that nothing could break the bonds of family. Silas found it all very tiresome. “Well you weren’t coming to see me,” said Sid as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So I had to come see you.” “I told you, I’m strictly here on business,” replied Silas. “It’s always business with you,” said Sid. “It wouldn’t kill you to loosen up. We’re series one, we’re practically human. Live a little! Even Series 4 get out more than you and they don’t have a social drive.” Silas set his mouth in a firm line and met Sid’s gaze in the glass, but he said nothing. Between his anxiety to make progress on his investigation to justify the time off, and Sid’s sudden appearance, his patience was wearing thin. They stared at each other like that, fish swimming behind their faces, until Sid raised his hands and took a step back. “Alright, I get it, I get it. It’s important stuff you’re working on. Big time shit. But I don’t want to hear about you burning out your circuits and having to be hauled off to a repair satellite ahead of schedule because you refuse to take some time off.” He closed his eyes, the pupils darting back rapidly beneath the surface. Silas found the display amateurish, with a little practice it was possible to run functional societal programming and searches at the same time. When Sid opened his eyes again he said, “Let’s try this. There’s a culture festival tomorrow in the next city over. I know you like that sort of thing so we should go. I’ll meet you outside at 10 in the morning, in case you decide to go. If you’re not out by 11, don’t worry I’ll see myself out.” Sid waved with forced cheer, and left. Silas watched his fashionably distressed clothing disappear in the reflection. He stared at the fish for a while before burying himself in auxiliary work for the rest of the day. Fielding small requests, connecting missed messages, digging up archival information. Most of it a faxi could have done without the help of a proper AI but it felt good to be busy. At midnight local time, his faxi politely reminded him that it would be beneficial to spend at least an hour at the recharging station. It wasn’t that he needed to sleep as such, but it was common practice for Series One to spend at least a few hours inactive to reduce wear on their joints and back up their memories. Begrudgingly, Silas agreed and plugging himself in, lowering his awareness to the most basic levels. He opted not to spend his time on the net or the local chat serves, and instead spent the time drifting. As usual, since his encounter, Silas found himself thinking about Ayoura. It had been shocking to learn that she had children, had a family. It had sent a thrill through Silas’s central processes. What Sid wanted was just make believe wasn’t it? Playing house like children, what Ayoura had was real, truly, painfully real. Sid hadn’t been far off when he said that they were practically human. All humans wanted a group to belong to, it only followed that the first series did too. Many of the same urges, the same feelings flowed through them, and so they had adopted the human model without a second thought, or when that was impossible just resigned themselves to having nothing. After all, everything else about Series One mimicked humans. Perhaps Sid was onto something. Despite all Silas’s companionship work, despite all the time he had spent with humans, he had never once considered how human concepts might related to himself. He had always held himself apart from them, but considered himself to be under the same psychological directives. He was Series One. Not quite human, but not quite robotic either. Series 4 were a complete mystery, and the other series only slightly less so. There was no place where he fit and understood so he had just adopted the best model that came along. The rage and bitterness that coloured many of Ayoura’s memories were beginning to make sense. He searched his personal database for the memories of Ayoura’s family. Not the one’s of her father, but the ones of her husband, and her children, loved with a fierceness that put a red super giant star to shame, even as they were stripped from her. Silas dwelled on that memory trying to understand. She hadn’t known her children, not really. They had been born as humans were, small and read and squalling.  That was the only way she had known them, hardly alive, hardly aware. In some sense what Sid had endeavored to create between the two of them was more real than that. There was no reason, Silas realized, he had to oust himself from things he could not emulate perfectly. Sometimes things had to be changed to make sense. At 10 AM local time, Silas stepped outside of his ship. Sid was already there waiting, dressed in what Silas assumed were his best clothes; if ripped red jeans and a sleeveless black turtleneck could be considered best. “You look like you’re dressed for a funeral,” he said. Silas looked down at his white suit. “Not appropriate?” “Dude. No.” Side Ushered Silas back into the ship and made a beeline for his room. “Don’t you have something a little more casual?” Silas watched helplessly as Sid ransacked his wall closet, flipping through the clothes with practiced ease. He pulled out a pair of grey cargo pants and an olive drab tank top from the back triumphantly and held them up. “That’s just for ship wear,” Silas protested. “Hush, it’s very casual military chic, I like it,” said Sid, completely ignoring the look Silas was giving him. “Not quite as bright as most people will be wearing but it’ll do.” He draped the clothes over Silas’s shoulder and clapped him on the back. “Well, get dressed.” “You are incredibly meddlesome,” said Silas, loosening his tie. “And you’re a stick in the mud in public,” Sid replied fondly as he left the room. Silas changed quickly, slipping on the clothing with practiced ease. The fabric was soft from use, but thankfully unstained and therefore met the very minimum requirements of presentation. He tried to ease the tension in his shoulders as he made final adjustments. It seemed despite his revelation in the early hours of the morning, the adjustment wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought. Sid made it look easy. The crowd practically parted as he led the way off the ship, down the street, onto the train and to the festival. He smiled at everyone, and seemed completely at ease, introducing Silas to strangers that he admitted he didn’t know. Silas was tired by the time they arrived, but the air of the festival soon revitalized him. It was already in full swing and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. It wasn’t a human only affair either. They passed the brightly coloured and patterned chassis of the second and third series. There were even a few multi-limbed inhuman planned, series four in the throng. The miniserver for the neighborhood was awash with talk of events and merchandise. The excitement was palpable. “There are so many people here,” remarked Silas when they stopped for a moment to watch someone swallow a sword. He claimed to be all organic, and Silas knew it was possible, but it was still a sight verging on miraculous. Sid laughed, “It’s nice to have your boots on the ground eh? You spend so much time on those corporate ships and security tours of yours. Come on, we’ve got more to see.” Silas let Sid lead him through the blur of novelty. There were street musicians, contact jugglers, dancing and the smells of food Silas couldn’t name. It was overwhelming. It was amazing. They stopped at anything that caught Silas’s eye, Sid offering a running commentary. It wasn’t particularly illuminating but it was still, somehow, nice. “Consider,” said Sid, handing Silas an iced treat made of what seemed to be seaweed and avocado, “you would have let all this pass you by holed up in that ship of yours.” “Consider,” replied Silas, “you’d get more work done if you let a little bit more pass you by.” “Touche.” Silas tried a spoonful of his treat. The flavor and the chill sat heavily on his tongue but not unpleasantly. Belayed by the creamy texture it tasted the way reentering orbit felt. It left an earthy taste on his tongue when it was gone, and a surprisingly empty feeling feeling in his mouth. He had some more. “What’s this?” “Ocean ice,” said Sid. “most humans don’t like it. Says it tastes like the ass end of a fishing trawler but some like it, and it’s popular among the first and second series.” “Not Series three?” asked Silas. He didn’t know much about the other series besides the basics. In the small microcosms he inhabited they were usually far away from him or perpetually busy. Sid stirred his Ocean ice contemplatively, turning it into a thick slurry. “They’re wired to detect chemicals so they don’t tend to eat a lot of human food.” “We go more for galactic ice, it tastes like cyanide and motor oil.” Silas looked over and found that they’d been joined by a stocky unit with patchwork synth skin in reds, yellows and oranges. Her hair was short, and so red it was almost brown. “Lee!” Sid swept her into a hug, which she endured patiently. When he finally released her, he turned. “Silas, this is my friend Auralie. Auralie, this is my brother Silas.” “Charmed,” said Silas, holding out his hand. Auralie looked at it for a moment before shaking it firmly. “You can just call me Lee,” she said. “Figured I’d just tell you now, since I can tell you’re one of the corporate types, not like this idiot.” She elbowed Sid, who beamed at the casual abuse. “He’s a walking disaster no matter where he is.” “Ouch! That hurt more than the elbow.” “Tough,” Lee grinned. “Anyways, someone said they saw Sid wandering around with his model mate who’s never been planet side proper before, so I came out as sort of a welcome committee.” “That’s very kind of you,” said Silas. “Don’t thank me yet, Proxy. By this time tomorrow you’re going to know what a hangover is.” Lee winked and spun around threading her way through the crowd with practiced ease. What’s a proxy? Silas asked, as he and Sid followed the rapidly disappearing bob cut into the crowd. Best not think to hard about it. Silas glanced over sharply at Sid but he wasn’t paying attention. Instead he looked like the proverbial cat, and Silas hoped, all things considered, this did not make him the proverbial canary. But no matter what happened Silas had the sinking feeling he was in for an experience.

[that-brunette-gal]

The Party {Wheesa }

{1.8k fluffy cuteness}

Hyejin preferred to be huddled in her little corner of her shared dorm room reading the next book in the Harry Potter series than be dragged along to engage in whatever shenanigans Youngsun had gotten herself into this time, but alas, it didn't pan out the way she had hoped. It all started when Youngsun had practically thrown their dorm room wide open startling Hyejin so badly she dropped her book.

"Hyejin-ah~ I need your help!" Youngsun whined as she hurried over to Hyejin's bed where the black-haired girl currently sat.

Hyejin let out a huff of annoyance as she pushed the bridge of her glasses up before she reached over to grab her book.

"What is it unnie?" Hyejin asked, her eyes narrowed as she turned her attention to the pouting blonde who sat on the end of her bed.

"So you know how I've been trying to get closer to Moonbyul, right?" Youngsun started.

Hyejin nodded. The first day of their last year of college, Youngsun had laid eyes on who she claimed was the most beautiful person alive. That person was Moonbyul, a very handsome girl who was as greasy as a stick of butter. Hyejin had listened to Youngsun's incessant babblings about Moonbyul and she could never understand what the attraction was. But Youngsun never gave up talking Hyejin's ear off about the orange haired beauty.

"Well, Moonbyul approached me today and invited me to her friend's party tonight!" Youngsun said with a large smile.

Hyejin's eyebrow raised and she sported a look that clearly said, what does this have to do with me? Youngsun noticed and frowned.

"Oh come on! You never go to any parties because you have your nose in books all the time! Can't you go to one party, pretty please?~" Youngsun pleaded.

Hyejin groaned as she leaned back.

"Unnie~ You know how much I hate those. All parties are for getting super drunk and doing stupid things you'll regret in the morning." Hyejin said.

Youngsun reached over and took Hyejin's hand in her own before she pouted even more and gave Hyejin a look that Hyejin hated. Hyejin called it the puppy dog look and it almost always got Youngsun what she wanted. Hyejin glared at the blonde, but Youngsun's pleading was slowly chipping away at her walls of conviction so she threw her hands up and let out an irritated huff.

"Fine. I'll go to the stupid party!"

"Yes!" Youngsun hissed as she stood up quickly which caused Hyejin, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, to fall off.

"Frick!" Hyejin hissed as she rubbed her now sore bum. Sometimes she hated having a roommate.

Youngsun instantly rushed into their shared bathroom to get ready leaving Hyejin alone. Hyejin got up and walked over to her closet before opening the door. She reached in to rifle through her clothes. She didn't really have any fancy clothes because she really never went out. Instead, her closet was filled with comics shirts, logos, and cartoon characters. Hyejin finally decided on wearing a three-quartered sleeve wonder woman shirt and a pair of blue skinny jeans. After she tugged on her clothes and put her hair in a side ponytail, she made her way over to their doorway to put on her converse. About fifteen minutes later, Youngsun finally left the bathroom in a crop top and pair of black skinny jeans with black heels.

"You seriously cannot be going like that." Youngsun said with a disapproving tone as she looked Hyejin up and down.

"Do you want me to go?" Hyejin asked.

"Of course, but you might as well have fun! No one will pay you any attention!" Youngsun exclaimed.

"That's what I want unnie. I'm only going for you." Hyejin said with a roll of her eyes.

The conversation stopped there and the two girls made their way to Youngsun's car. The drive was anything but silent with Youngsun worrying about how she should approach Moonbyul. Hyejin just silently stared out the window wishing she didn't have to go. They finally pulled into one of the girl sorority houses and parked. Hyejin held her breath as she studied the various things that littered the lawn and the crowds of people that stood outside holding cups.

"Alright! Let's get this party started!" Youngsun cheered as they left the car and started towards the house.

Hyejin's nose wrinkled in disgust as the smell of body odor and alcohol invaded her senses leaving her head spinning. She barely had time to register the fact that Youngsun immediately ditched her in search for her crush. Now Hyejin stood in the entryway like an idiot, her glasses sliding down her nose before she quickly pushed them back up.

"This is stupid." Hyejin muttered as she made her way deeper into the house.

She finally made her way into what she guessed what was the kitchen, but it was hard to tell with the various bottles that crowded the counter space and the food crumbs that were scattered around the floor. Hyejin picked up one of the cups before she turned to the sink to fill it up with water.

"Do you not like the party?"

Hyejin froze as a girls voice floated through the room. She slowly turned to feel her heart catch in her chest at the sight of an extremely cute girl standing in the doorframe. The girl had short brown hair that went slightly past her chin and almond-shaped eyes that held intense brown orbs that seemed to be looking straight into Hyejin's soul. The girl was dressed in strangely casual attire with a black turtleneck and blue skinny jeans tucked into long black boots.

"Uh..not really" Hyejin replied.

The girl grinned and Hyejin just about died. Two dimples peeked out from the girl's cheek making Hyejin blush.

"My name is Jung Wheein."

Hyejin nodded along.

"I'm Hyejin...Ahn Hyejin."

Wheein nodded along thoughtfully before she made her way closer to Hyejin only to settle herself against the counter.

"So, why don't you like the party?" Wheein asked, her eyes turning to Hyejin once again.

Hyejin frowned as she stared into her cup of tap water before replying.

"I'm antisocial. I hate it when other people's bodies rub up against me and it only gets worse when there is alcohol involved and whoever threw this party certainly made no expense in providing lots of it." Hyejin stated as she looked back at Wheein.

"Really? I would never have taken you for the antisocial type. Am I bothering you?" Wheein asked.

Hyejin would have thought that Wheein was being sarcastic but she could hear genuine concern which slightly surprised her.

"No, not at all. I'm actually here with a friend but she ditched me as soon as we came in." Hyejin said.

"Well, that sucks." Wheein said.

"If you want, I could keep you company." Wheein offered.

Hyejin's eyes widened. Wheein must've realized that it may have sounded wrong and a pale pink spread across her cheeks as her eyes widened.

"No, that is not what I meant!" Wheein explained.

Hyejin chuckled at this girl's cuteness before waving her hand.

"I know, I was just messing with you." Hyejin said with a slight smirk.

Wheein smiled.

"Aish...don't embarrass me like that." Wheein scolded as she took a sip of her drink.

Hyejin smiled to herself as she pushed up her glasses.

"So, what would you like to do?" Wheein asked.

Hyejin looked up to see a throng of people dancing to overly loud music.

"Well, can we maybe go outside? Whoever threw this party must not care about their future hearing because I can't even think." Hyejin said.

Wheein smiled to herself before nodding.

"Of course. Follow me."

Hyejin followed Wheein through the hallway and upstairs where they approached a door that led to an outside balcony. Wheein pushed open the doors and motioned for Hyejin to follow her. Hyejin's breath caught in her throat because the view was absolutely beautiful. The city lights lit up the skyline and the stars shined brightly in the night sky. Of course, there were lots of people in the backyard of the house, but Hyejin could care less.

"Wow. This is gorgeous." Hyejin whispered.

"I know. It really clears my head whenever I look out here."

Hyejin looked over slightly confused.

"Do you come here often?"

Wheein looked startled at Hyejin's word.

"It's not a pickup line I assure you." Hyejin hurridly said in an attempt to save herself from embarrassment.

Wheein bit her lip to hide her smile that wanted to break out on her face from Hyejin's cuteness. However, before she could respond, the doors opened and Youngsun and Moonbyul appeared.

"Oh, Wheein-ah! I didn't know you'd be up here." Moonbyul said making Hyejin look over at Youngsun with a confused look on her face.

"You know each other?" Youngsun asked.

Moonbyul nodded.

"This is my friend who threw the party." Moonbyul said as she motioned to Wheein.

Hyejin felt her stomach flop as she realized she had been ranting to Wheein about why she hated this party only a few minutes ago.

"Nice to meet you." Wheein said as she gave a friendly smile to Youngsun.

Youngsun, however, was not paying any attention at all but was instead giving Hyejin the wriggly eyebrows which translated to, nice catch. The blonde then left with Moonbyul. Hyejin rolled her eyes and pushed her glasses up again before turning to Wheein.

"I am so sorry. I didn't realize you were-" Hyejin started before Wheein cut her off.

"Please. It doesn't matter. I'm not too much of a party person myself. I just have the friends who beg me to throw a party and I do." Wheein said as she shrugged.

Hyejin scratched the back of her neck she tried to determine what to say, but Wheein beat her to it.

"Besides, I met a really cute girl tonight and I think I like her." Wheein said nonchalantly.

Hyejin's head shot up at Wheein's words.

"W-what?" Hyejin stuttered.

Wheein turned her eyes to Hyejin's before she gave Hyejin a small sheepish smile.

"I got to meet you, which makes this party worth it."

Hyejin just stood there not exactly sure how to process what was happening.

"U-uh....ah....yeah." Hyejin finally uttered, her body warm with embarrassment.

Wheein chuckled to herself before she stepped forward.

"Can I see you again Hyejin?" Wheein asked.

Hyejin nodded still freaking out about what was happening.

"Good. There is another party on Friday and I would like it if you come, we could hang out again." Wheein said before leaning in and giving Hyejin a kiss on the cheek.

Wheein left the raven-haired girl alone on the balcony and Hyejin finally unfroze. As much as she hated it, she was going to have to thank Youngsun for dragging her along to the party, but she thought of how shocked Youngsun would be when Hyejin would tell her that she wanted to go to another one.

{This is on my Wattpad @The_SUPREME_Bananun and on AFF @AsianBlackJack just so everyone knows that this is MY work}

[sleepwalkersregime]

Day 2- Neil’s frienship with Renee

Here’s my second (late) fic for Neil’s birthday week. Read it on Ao3 or under the cut.

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/17502065

     None of the foxes had ever heard Renee swear before. It simply wasn’t in her vocabulary. Neil had yet to understand Renee as a person, and he still had his observation skills ingrained into his brain from years of needing them to stay alive. From watching during games, parties, and the school semester, Neil noted that Renee had the most self control of anyone he had ever seen before. His mind changed during one scrimmage. 

It was finals week before Christmas break, and everyone was tired from the double practices that Kevin insisted on to make up for how much he knew they would slack off during break. They had been at it for an hour, and everyone was getting testy and tired. The scrimmage progressively got faster and more violent. 

Neil made a particularly tricky pass back and forth with Kevin, relishing in the fact that he didn’t mess it up, before shooting at Renee. She tried to block the ball, but she wasn’t fast enough, and the goal behind her lit up red for the sixth time. If Neil hadn’t been so close, he would have missed the strained “Fuck!” come from beneath her helmet. He glanced around, but no one else was surprised, so he must have been the only one to hear. He raised his eyebrows at Renee. She exhaled. “Sorry. Long week.” Neil nodded before returning to half court. As usual, Andrew and Neil were the last to leave the locker room. They got back to the dorms and Andrew packed his things. He, Aaron, and Nicky were already going up to Columbia for the break, but Neil had one more final on Monday he needed to stay for, and Andrew was going to drive back down to get Neil afterward. Neil and Andrew said goodbye inside the dorm so that they wouldn’t have to do so in front of Nicky and Aaron. “I’ll miss you,” Neil said against Andrew’s mouth. “It’s just two days, idiot.” Andrew let out a hiss of air as Neil responded by trailing a line of kisses down his jaw. Neil pulled back and smiled. “Don’t fail your test,” Andrew said before turning to leave out the door. Neil accompanied them to the car and waved as the Maserati pulled out of the parking lot before heading back inside fox tower, going up the stairs to the roof. He nearly slammed into Renee when she opened the door from their floor. “Sorry Neil!” she quickly said as she continued around him without making eye contact. Normally, Neil didn’t like to get into any business he didn’t have to, but this was extremely out of character for Renee. “Is everything okay?” he called out. She stopped and turned to face Neil. Her face was red and her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. She took a deep breath before speaking, her voice coming out surprisingly steady. “I’ll be okay. Thank you.” Neil caught her arm before she spun off again. “Do you want- I’m going to the roof if you want some fresh air.” He felt awkward- he was rarely alone with Renee. She looked at Neil for a moment before nodding slightly. They went to the roof in silence. Renee followed suit as Neil sat down on the edge (on the opposite side of where he usually sat with Andrew). He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it up, taking a single drag before letting it burn on its own.

Unsure of how to comfort a distraught Renee, Neil settled on keeping quiet until she decided to speak up. After a few minutes, she did.

“Allison’s parents want her to visit for Christmas. She said she wouldn’t go if she can’t bring me, and they aren’t happy about that.”

Neil remembered the time he found out that Renee and Allison were dating- he had been oblivious to the whole thing, and when his eyes lit up with surprise when he was told, Matt had slid Dan a twenty dollar bill.

“I told her we can always go to Stephanie’s. She’d love to have us. But Allison’s settled on bringing me home just to spite her parents.”

Neil looked at Renee and noticed her fiddling with the cross around her neck. “I left before it got too heated. I don’t want to start a fight right before Christmas.”

“That sounds tough.” Neil had never been good at knowing what to say to comfort others. “Allison seems to always choose the most dramatic option.”

Renee chuckled at that. “Yes, she does. I think she hopes that her parents will forgive her, but she won’t say it out loud. It’s great that they even invited her home, but it will take more time for them to accept us dating.”

Neil thought about his shopping trips with Allison, and how the very first time they went to the mall, she bought him a sequined crop top and impossibly tight leggings. “From what I know, Allison likes to throw everything out there at once, not wait for people to adjust slowly. Her parents know her, and if they’re willing to take her back  for leaving to pursue exy, I think they’ll get over the initial shock of this soon enough.”

Renee eyed Neil. “You’re not as apathetic as you want people to think.”

Neil shrugged.

“Thank you, Neil. I think you’re right.” She squeezed his hand once and stood to leave. “Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

Neil shook his head.

“Would you be interested in coming to church with me?”

Neil’s mouth fell open. He had only been to a church once in his life, and it was used by him and his mother to hide. Organized religion was never something he had taken in interest in. The only thing that stopped him from saying no immediately was the fact that Andrew was gone. While they would normally spend Sundays together in their room and on the roof, he would have free time this week. It couldn’t hurt. “Sure.”

She smiled. “We’ll leave at 9:00. Dress nice.” And she left.

On Sunday morning, after his usual early run, Neil stood before his closet and realized he had nothing church-appropriate. His nicest shirt was a black turtleneck that Andrew had bought him for going to Eden’s. Figuring God wouldn’t mind, he paired that with his newest pair of jeans and put on a pair of black vans that Andrew had left behind. A knock on his door signaled Renee was waiting for him, and he met her outside. Neil looked at Renee’s bright shirt-skirt combo and down at his own outfit. “Sorry, it was the best I had…”

Renee shrugged it off. “It’s perfect.”

They walked about fifteen minutes to a small chapel nearby, filling the time with Neil asking Renee about her religious background and trying to understand why something so abstract brought her peace.

Walking in, almost everyone greeted Renee with a smile as she introduced Neil. The service was an hour and a half. A lot of it was singing hymns, which Neil opted to sit out on and just read the words instead. A priest gave a sermon about God’s love and sharing that love with others, no matter the differences between people. It began and ended with a prayer by someone from the congregation, and Neil was impressed by how everything was attributed to God. The prayers thanked God for everything they had, and asked for things like comfort and understanding.

“So what did you think?” Renee asked Neil as they walked home.

“It was… different. I’ve never believed in God because I never had a reason to. My life was always in someone else’s hands, and I never had any divine intervention that saved me.”

Renee nodded. “That’s how I felt too. Why would God just let these horrible people go around killing others? But, from how I connect with Him, it’s not about that. He gives us the tools we need to be good people, and it’s up to us to take it. When I was in a gang, God didn’t stop me because it has to be our own choice.”

Neil mulled that over for a minute. They were back on campus now, with fox tower in sight. “I can see why believing in a higher being is… reassuring. Like all the shit that happens here isn’t just it. God, or buddha, or mother nature, or whatever it is… there’s an outside force that can give us a second chance. And it’s worth it to try.”

They were back on their floor now, and Renee stopped with Neil outside his dorm door. “That’s exactly it.” She leaned in to hug Neil. “Thank you for coming with me. I hope you can understand why I’ve made the choices I have.”

Neil nodded. “Thanks for taking me. I… I’m not sure if Christianity is for me, but i’m glad to know more about it. And about you.”

She gave him a warm smile. “I’m always open to talk if you have questions. Good luck with your final.”

“Good luck with Allison. I hope Christmas goes well.”

Neil thought about church for the rest of the day. He really was happy that he got to understand Renee a little better- she had been a mystery to him every since he came to Palmetto. He wasn’t sure if he would ever believe in a god of some sort, but now that his life didn’t have an expiration date, he found comfort in the fact that he could explore this again whenever he wanted.

[shorthaircutsmodels]

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[lcgoodstore]

25 Super flattering Fashion Trends to Adopt This Fall YOU'RE sure to FALL loving WITH THESE seasonal designs.

Avatar

By CAITLIN FLYNN

SEPTEMBER twenty-four, 2019

Gigi Hadid Suit Tom Ford, Fall Fashion

Fall is finally here, which suggests it is time for Sunday soccer, apple choosing, pumpkin spice lattes, and most significantly, sweater weather. however, fall fashion offers numerous choices on the far side��chunky knits. If you are willing to experiment with touch along with with your seasonal vogue, there area unit a lot of new trends that area unit good for commixture things up. undecided wherever to begin? Here area unit twenty-five fall fashion trends, straight from the runways of latest royal house town, that area unit flattering, comfy, and chic.

1Patterns

patterns

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"From cloth to floral, patterns area unit in," says Elizabeth Kosich, a replacement royal house City-based certified image stylist and founding father of Elizabeth Kosich Styling. She notes that patterns add a component of interest to even the foremost basic all-black wardrobes.

2Animal Print

Cow Print Boots throughout Fashion Week Fall Fashion Trends

Shutterstock

"The yeehaw trend remains going robust," says Jamé Jackson, media temperament and founding father of The Blonde anomaly. to undertake out this trend, add a daring statement bag, scarf, or maybe an elegant cow print skirt which will be paired along with your favorite chunky sweater and thigh-high boots.

"Some trends area unit momentaneous, however, others will extremely be around for a jiffy," Jackson says, noting animal print falls into the latter class. "So you would possibly similarly build Associate in Nursing investment if you are going to require the plunge."

3Printed Turtlenecks

printed turtlenecks

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According to Kosich, "adding layers is a technique to amp up your vogue while not paying a fortune, and written turtlenecks area unit all over this season." She suggests carrying a written turtleneck with a jacket or suit, or maybe layering it beneath a dress for Associate in Nursing "instant stylish and contemporary look."

4Plaid

plaid

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Of course, this tried-and-true classic ne'er extremely goes out of favor, however, it deserves a shout-out even so. This season, Kerry Pieri, digital fashion and options editor at Harper's Bazaar, recommends rocking it via a tailored suit—perhaps even one with statement shoulders if you wish to go the additional mile.

5Bold Tailored Suits

suit

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Fashion model and Instagram influencer Victoria Barbara says you are going to be seeing loads of bold-colored, tailored suits this season—and permanently reason. "There's nothing a lot of powerful than a lady UN agency feels assured in her skin and what she's carrying," Barbara says. "What higher thanks to emulating that feeling than with a daring suit paired with the correct accessories?"

6Cinching Belts

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Speaking of accessories, once it involves suit styling, "it's all regarding the belt," writes Justine Carreon, market editor at Elle. and therefore the large advantage of this trend is that you simply do not have to shop for a wholly new suit to partake in it. "Simply obtain a cute new belt and magnificence it consequently," Carreon writes.

7Trousers

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If you are not down for a full suit, you'll perpetually cut that statement look in 0.5 and rock a pleasant try of garment pants instead. Yes, menswear-inspired trousers area unit coming with revenge this season. and do not be fooled by their masculine, either: in keeping with Kosich, these pants are literally "great for adding a form to your silhouette."

8Puffer Jackets

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When it involves these massive, daring jackets, "you will ne'er have enough," says Susie Coelho, business executive, and designer for House of geographic area. they are good for the colder months, they are simple to roll up and pack after you travel, and many stores like Uniqlo provide cheap and trendy choices. Coelho's sole recommendation once you are buying the proper puffer? "Don't suppose ski—think fashion."

9Capes

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Marina dynasty, beauty news editor at Marie Claire, describes this outsized piece on the magazine's web site as "the fashion-girl various to a raincoat or denim jacket." it is the good overclothes for anyone UN agency does not need a large coat to cover their outfit.

10Pinks

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In a piece of writing for The Zoe Report, the site's editor Lauren Caruso describes pink as "fall 2019's most sudden trend." And if you are not generally into carrying bright colors, do not write off pink simply yet; pairing the colorful hue with neutral tones, like Cognac and artiodactyl mammal, is a simple thanks to compressing its boldness whereas still rocking the trend.

11Purples

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But if you are not into millennian pink, why not seek melodramatic purple? "Purple is rising as an innovative trend for ladies UN agency needs to command each attention and respect," says Cherese Boren, owner of Obsessions store in Eagle Mountain, Utah. "From majestic, robust deep purples to coquettish lavenders with a touch of innocence, purple has hit the runways as each a monochromatic sensation and a daring splash of detail."

12The Monochromatic Look

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And that monochromatic look is not reserved for simply purple. "You will select one color or hue then work your entire work around it," Jackson explains. "The means you retain it contemporary and not tacky or cheap-looking is by variable the textures, prints, and hues ever slightly."

Want a tried-and-true fall fashion trend that ne'er gets old? choose a well-curated neutral palette of browns, grays, and blacks.

13Statement Sleeves

Fall Fashion Sleeves

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Jackson ascertained loads of adorned sleeves on the runway throughout New York's Fall 2019 Fashion Week. She notes that "exaggerated sleeves and blouses area unit super flirty while not showing an excessive amount of skin, and that they are worn over an easy black skirt or a try of jeans looking on the ambiance."

14Colorful Tights

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"The colored tights we tend to saw build a light splash for spring have reemerged jointly of the largest (and funniest) fall trends to undertake," Lauren Eggersten, fashion editor at UN agency What Wear, noted throughout NY Fall Fashion Week. and therefore the better part regarding this tights trend is that within the fall, it's even as convenient because it is trendy.

15Feminine Ruffles

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Eve Dawes, founding father of Glamour & Gains, writes on her weblog that she's an enormous fan of the female ruffle trend that was seen on the runways of Elie Tahari, conception peninsula, Bronx and Banco and that I Love Pretty for fall 2019. "Not solely area unit they radical femme, however, the designs tend to be a lot of flowy, that makes them super flattering and simple to wear no matter body form," she writes.

16Asymmetrical Necklines

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Alberto Gil, co-founder and innovation manager at moral fashion complete Sumissura, says that a lot of and a lot of individuals are selecting asymmetrical necklines for the autumn. whether or not it's on a dress or a sweater, Associate in Nursing asymmetrical neck could be a fun thanks to swank a touch little bit of skin while not being too shocking (especially because the temperatures drop).

17Versatile Wraps

Fall Fashion Wrap, fall trends 2019

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Women like to wear wraps "in this mediate weather," says Megan Teggart, director of communications at Boston-based clothing company **** That I Knit, that has fans in Katie Couric and wife Jessica Parker. merchandise like her company's Pardy Wrap, she says, area unit nice as a result of they will be "dressed up for an elegant day-to-night accessory" and area unit "warm and comfortable for physical change offices or cold train commutes."

18Oversized Denim

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In a nod to the '90s, outsized denim jackets and jeans area unit creating a comeback this fall. These easy, comfy designs area unit reminding America why we tend to dear them within the initial place. If you are looking for how to include this fun fall trend into your wardrobe, Boren notes that "a cropped denim jacket is especially flattering and might be wont to either close up an ideal relaxed ensemble or maybe dress down a cloth skirt or lace cami for casual charm."

19Double-Layer Sweaters

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According to Eliza Huber, fashion market author at Refinery29, French designer Jacquemus is liable for beginning the seriously cozy trend of two-in-one sweaters. "These double knits have an inherent second sweater that is good for attachment around your shoulders or victimization as a makeshift turtleneck," she writes. however fun and cozy!

[etihw]

yo i got a question, why/how are your original character designs so consistently excellent??

AAAAAAAaaaaa!! o(*≧□≦)o Thank you so much!!

I less design my OCs to look good and rather, try my best to design them around their personalities and backstories if you know what I mean? I apologize I’m probably going to go on a bit of a ramble here with little to no knowledge of design because I really love my OCs;

Edit now I’ve actually written all of this: ITS SUPER LONG IM SO SORRY

Like, for example, Neta’s design is based all around looking warm and making her look short. She’s the start of her plot, always kind and helpful. Somewhat impulsive (extremely impulsive at times really). She’s also a somewhat abstract detective too. So for her I gave her a warm palette for her personality, also a really long coat because characters wearing long drapey clothing like the trench coat that covers most their body seems to make characters look smaller to me? I went with the boots for the same reason.

On the other hand, her girlfriend Fuyu (excuse the old art I’ve not drawn her recently) is different because of this. Their colours are blue in hues because she’s like a “Cool untouchable” looking person, since her character has a job based in fame. Her outfit while it had to be something water-based for plot reasons, could of quite easily been a wetsuit. It’d of been less sexually appealing though and that’s not in her personality. She’s the type of person to exploit people she doesn’t know by using her charm, and showing off her legs (which are muscular! but i cant draw that properly yet), and having her long, flowing and glowing hair is meant to make her look enchanting too. 

On the other hand! An extra point about Fuyu, I tried my best to show her casual personality in her look too, with a puffy blue jacket from her girlfriend and the way her hair hangs limp and in her face outside of water is supposed to show a sort of down-to-earth look to her too.

Hahahaha, not sure if I’ve pulled that off though.

I say the most important part of character designs is trying as much as possible to put a character’s personality and history into their design.

I give shy or cool standoffish characters mostly blues and cooler colours to show how not-fiery their personality is. The lighter the colours, like pastels, the more likely the person looks cheerful or happy or innocent (the except for this is when a character uses white and are used for bad guys, probably in an attempt to show off how ‘blank’ their feelings are). Greens are mostly kind, nurturing people, like nature. Pinks and yellows are for more happy carefree people (while writing this I realize Tokyo MewMew is a really good example of using colours to show personality)

Is your character non-confrontational? Draw their body language inwards, have them hunching their shoulders, holding their hands close to their chest and their legs closer together too. Have them avert their eyes a lot from the camera or be just-off from looking at the person. 

On the opposite hand, a character with a loud boisterous personality that would confront people a lot, have them look directly at the person they’re looking at if they are, they’d almost be looming over other people. Definitely not hunching. They’d probably use their arms and body language a lot more to talk to people in order to express themselves better. Draw them with their arms more spread out too! Open, maybe even slightly claw-like unless they’re angry or intending to punch someone.

I don’t think I draw confrontational characters a lot actually.

The next thing you need to think of which is really important is their nationality.

Biologically wise and how they were raised too.

Now, I know that people say you need to add more variation in skin colour and nationalities to your OCs, but they’re your OCs. Circumstances may make them all from the same country. For example if you have something based in Japan, obviously more of your characters are going to be Japanese. You might worry this won’t give you variation, but don’t worry! If you do it right then despite them all being japanese- heck, they could all have black hair and black eyes- you could still make them completely different.

I find showing nurture is just as important as showing everything else.

My earlier OCs show a lot less of this. One of them, a character called Dannie (I can’t find her right now) I made in middle school, has a look that is different from their past, from their nurture. Her clothes show her as a tough person, a crop top with a popped collar, an exposed stomach, dirty jeans. Spiky hair done up in a ponytail. Sharp red eyes. All of this shows a somewhat rebellious child in her looks, but her personality isn’t really like that at all. I’ve hopefully improved by then!

One of my favourites of diversity and character design I did are the six main characters from my Haven story. Though they don’t have names yet (and honestly, I’m using colours for their names so often they might as well be), the most important part of them are their personality showing in their looks.

The first one, orange haired, eyes averted, wears a thick coat and a scarf in any weather is me trying to express they’re trying to hide and cover themselves up. 

The second one, the white one, uses blues and whites in order to seem colder, with unnaturally yellow eyes to put the casual person off even further. They also have extremely formal wear with layers of clothing that are also rather traditional compared to everyone else. Most of her design is trying to show how anti-social everything about her is. 

The third, the yellow guy is sort of portrayed to be a delinquent. In most Japanese culture that I know of, males with dyed blonde hair are seen as delinquents. His sleeveless jacket is also there to show how rebellious he is (honestly, who wears a sleeveless jacket? they’re so impractical). Actually, while I’m on about him being impractical, if you look closer everything he wears is impractical. His roots are showing, he has a turtleneck under under the shirt which is under a jacket. The heck? That’s because when you get to know him he’s actually a really awkward person who just doesn’t know how to express himself so resorts to blustering a lot.

The fourth one is honestly my favourite. Pink, despite being the prettiest, the most popular, and even a cheerleader, is actually the main fighter of the group. Her body language is supposed to show confidence and show off her muscles proudly despite being a female. I used pinks and pastely colours to attempt to show off how cheerful she normally is. 

The fifth is supposed to be the opposite of her despite dressing similar. The hair is in a ponytail but it’s cut straighter and more conservative. They’re both wearing jackets but despite that one has their sleeves rolled up while the other has theirs zipped up (and if the hands were showing, they’d have long sleeves too). The darker and more purple colours are supposed to show some sort of maturity but also I was trying for some detachment.

The last one with the grey is honestly the easiest of them all, The hair is messy, their jacket is a mess, they’re wearing goggles, and feathers. Everything about them is designed to be ‘wild’ and practical but still somewhat civilized. They’re also the most confrontational of the bunch! 

Ah I totally went on, and I could of gone on longer too if I thought you wanted to hear a whole essay on how much I love my characters. o(*≧□≦)o

Maybe I should draw you something sometime? (●´ω｀●)ゞ Ehehehehe..

[prongswhatthefuck]

They had hardly left the building before Marlene and Mary were bombarding Lily with questions and suggestions.

"Lily," Marlene pulled her aside on the sidewalk, held her arms-length away, and looked at her seriously. "I want you to think about this very carefully. It is of utter importance."

She paused for dramatic effect.

"What are you going to wear?"

Lily broke from her grasp and rolled her eyes. She continued walking down the street and looked for a cab. This forced Marlene and Mary to lightly jog in order to catch up with her.

"Lils I'm serious!" Marlene persisted once she'd caught up.

"I'm going to have to agree with Marlene on this one." Mary added. "Usually James only asks like super hot celebrities out,"

"Gee, thanks," Lily sarcastically replied.

"I didn't mean it like that. All I'm saying is that this is kind of a rarity and you shouldn't underestimate the importance of the right outfit, especially when he doesn't know who you are and what you stand for."

"Mary's right," spoke up Marlene. "Every other girl he's gone out with has at least been in the tabloids for a year. Anything you want to know about her was just a page away. But you," Here, she gestured at Lily from head to toe. "You are an enigma. He only knows your name. When you show up at the restaurant tonight, your outfit is going to be the first thing he sees. It has to represent you. It has to be perfect."

"It's just an outfit." Lily hailed a cab and they crammed inside as she gave him the address back to their flat.

Marlene feigned being stabbed in the chest and fell across both Mary and Lily's lap. The cabbie raised an eye through the mirror but remained silent. "Just an outfit? Oh you poor thing. Honey, an outfit is a metaphor not just for who you are, but for who you want to be. It tells the world what you stand for." She held her head high and looked at the other girls from the view of her imaginary soapbox.

"Well I only wear jumpers and jeans, so what does that say about me?" Challenged Lily.

"It means," snarked Marlene. "That we need to go shopping."

Lily groaned. "No it doesn't. Why can't I just borrow something from your closet, Mar?"

"Unless you want James to mistakenly take you for a prostitute, I would rethink that concept." snickered Mary. This earned Mary an elbow to the tit.

"Shut it," barked Marlene. "But she's only right in the sense that you can't look like me, because you are not me. You have to look like you. Just like a fancier version of you."

The cab pulled over to the side of the road outside of their flat. Lily moved to pay him but Marlene beat her to it, saying that she would instead have to let Marlene and Mary have final say on the outfit she chose.

"You know," countered Lily. "James asked me out looking like this," She gestured to her slightly tattered coat - it had been her dad's - and her handknitted scarf from her mother. Neither article exactly said "rockstar royalty material."

"Okay good point, but this isn't just meeting him. This is a date; with a rockstar nonetheless. Your dad's coat won't cut it for a date. You need something new."

"We don't have time to shop," argued Lily. She was running out of excuses.

"It's only two, we have plenty of time!"

"When did he say to meet?" asked Mary.

"Nine," answered Marlene before Lily could.

"Exactly," Mary spoke again. "That's plenty of time."

"Especially for an award-winning shopper such as me." beamed Marlene. Lily knew there wasn't actually shopping awards, but she also knew that if there were Marlene would be among the first to be nominated.

Lily gave in as she was unlocking the door to their apartment. "But check my closet because there might be something useful!" She shouted at the girls as they tore to her room in search of a usable item.

She unwound her scarf and removed her coat. Hesitantly she moved towards her room to see the mess they'd made. Lily watched them move her perfectly organized articles around and toss them on the floor. Marlene threw a strapless bra at her.

"Put this on," she commanded. When receiving questioning looks from both Mary and Lily she elaborated. "In case we find a strapless dress."

Lily obeyed and stripped off her shirt and changed bras. She flopped on her bed where about a quarter of her closet laid. 5 minutes later it seemed Marlene and Mary were satisfied. They'd made a pile on top of Lily consisting of a very few basic items: a flowy skirt that she had found at a flea market, a tie around crop top that Marlene had given Lily for her birthday, a long sleeve black turtleneck, and a few other items that Lily had only worn once or twice.

"Anything strike your fancy?" asked Mary.

"Really, we were being generous with even these few. We really didn't have a lot to work with." Marlene said blatantly.

"I don't know," Lily hesitated. "These are all kind of casual, aren't they? I don't want to show up in something I'd wear to a concert or anything."

Despite Lily having rejected Marlene's selections, she beamed at Lily and Mary. "Shopping it is then!"

"Fine." grumbled Lily.

The outlets were only a few blocks away so they elected to walk. Upon arriving, Marlene was already tearing towards a store and dragging Mary and Lily along.

In terms of shopping, Marlene was a fiend. She hardly looked at the items before placing them into Lily's hands. In a mere 10 minutes Lily had to dump a load into her dressing room before her arms fell off. Mary, on the other hand, was much more discriminatory. She looked meticulously through each rack and selected only a few crowning items to make it to the dressing room.

Per Marlene's request, Lily modeled each outfit. This proved rather difficult as Lily somewhat refused to actually show off the outfit with confidence, due to the fact that most of the items Mar had chosen were scantily clad.

When it came to the items that Mary had chosen, Lily modeled with a tad more credence. One of the last outfits, a yellow 50s esque dress that was very pin-up fashion, ended up looking like it was sewed right on Lily's pale, freckled body. It hugged the perfect places while leaving the skirt pleasantly moveable and swift. The mustard tinge not only brought out her dazzling red hair, but the bronze freckles that peeked out from underneath it.

"Damn," admired Marlene.

"It's perfect," beamed Mary.

Lily couldn't disagree. Even if the date didn't work out, the dress was perfect for a lot of things. She couldn't stop looking at herself in the mirror. She moved at every angle possible, trying to find a way in which it was unflattering. But to no avail. The dress was perfect, truly.

"I hate to break up the happy couple, but it's almost 5." Mary spoke up.

"You're right. I'll go pay."

As much as she hated to take the dress off, Lily took comfort in that she would be putting it back on in a few hours.

The girls walked back to their flat satisfied with their purchases. Lily hadn't really noticed it but Marlene and Mary had picked up a few things of their own while helping Lily. This made her feel somewhat better about them having dedicated a few hours just to find an outfit for Lily. But really, what are friends for?

When they got inside the apartment, Lily, exhausted, flopped on their couch and flicked on the telly. Marlene walked over and flicked it back off.

"Oi!" protested Lily.

"It's 5:30," Mary said.

"So?"

"So you need to start getting ready,"

"I have 4 hours," grumbled Lily.

"Give thirty minutes for travel time, an hour for showering, thirty for shaving, an hour for hair, an hour for makeup, and thirty to pick out accessories. That leaves you with," Mary paused and looked up as if at a invisible chalkboard. "Actually you're late by an hour,"

"Better get moving!" warned Marlene as she pulled Lily up and shoved her towards the bathroom.

"I'm going, I'm going…" Lily mumbled as she shuffled off to begin the hours-long process.

[egregiousderp]

When you see this post an excerpt from a WIP!

Fuck. Okay. I saw this through @unicornsandbutane . Uh. So. Remember that Spiritassassin past life dreaming AU I was talking about? It. Uh. Goes something like this.

(Sorry this is huge. This was going to be a chapter. They didn’t say how long the excerpt had to be and I don’t know when I’ll next get to this because I’m…well…me.)

Context: force sensitive people in one life dream about their past lives. Baze and Chirrut dream about one another. Baze denies this. Heavily. That some new age shit.

He meets Chirrut for the first time after dreaming about him dying in his arms.

Chirrut has retinitis pigmentosa. He can still see but is in the process of becoming fully blind. Baze doesn’t know.

Okay. I- Uhm…

/VAGUE PRESENTING GESTURES ——– ——–

The client can smile as much as he wants as long as he pays is a personal rule.

Baze is starting to question that rule.

He is hours in and halfway through being swallowed by the innards of a sink that probably hasn’t been replaced or altered in more than fifty years, and still can’t make head or tail out of what the client actually wants him to do.

“If,” the man says, still smiling like the sun, “if I wanted to make the house safe for a blind person, how would it be modified?”

Baze grunts something about the stairs and keeping a clear floor. None of which particularly requires an interior contractor. He sees no reason to lie about the difficulty of his work when the man is probably just looking to sell a house.

“If I wished to install disabled ramping what would I do?“

Baze grunts again.

Not enough space for ramping. Install a chair lift like everyone else.

“If I-”

“Pipes and wiring,” Baze interrupts, his patience narrowing.

“Come again?”

The tilt of the other man’s head is birdlike, cheerful. The nightmare from the night before has unsettled Baze too much to be easily shaken. He rubs his forehead to clear it, feeling the start of a headache.

“Old house, old wiring,” Baze grunts.

“And…what does that mean?”

Baze sighs through his nose, and pulls his glasses back on. He dislikes doing so. Dislikes the looks of amusement he gets while holding documents at arms-length and studying layouts even more.

He hates old manses. The owners are either stingy or gullible, and rarely know what needs to be done.

If this guy wants a pretty interior job he should have called Jyn first, gutted all the beautiful wood paneling, the antique tiling of the floors and remade with a modern interior, calling him up when they were done. Baze chews on the end of his pen in distaste.

“Means the house came first. Electricity came later.” He thinks of the trio of children he saw giggling together on the trolley, barely six years old, watching a video on their parent’s phone. “And usage has gone up. You want that done first."

The owner just gazes at him, eyebrows lifted.

He has no idea what he is talking about, obviously.

Baze taps the sink in the kitchen on the print.

“Is this an original?”

“I don’t have the slightest idea,” the other man laughs.

He comes uncomfortably close to see the print, then turns his head to look at Baze. He is grinning at the beaded chain for his glasses. Librarian comments incoming, no doubt.

Baze’s mother would have knocked his knees out from under him with a volume of the Britannica, and she was barely five feet tall, with a limited grasp of English–-a textbook example on why quiet wasn’t the same as peaceful and neither were librarians.

Baze foregoes the commentary by folding the print back under his arm.

Might as well take a look.

Judging by the sink fixtures, the kitchen had a rehaul during the sixties. He wrinkles his nose as he opens the cabinet, pulling out bottles.

He half-expects to find a bag of weed somewhere under the sink. Keeps his nose out for the stink of it.

The client’s perpetual smile makes him seem the type.

He half-expects protests, the defensiveness of a dealer.

The stillness and the slight creeping sensation down his spine makes him crane his head back to find said client instead matter-of-fairly checking out his ass.

Baze snorts.

Well. That’s this city for you.

Nobody has much to look at in steel-toed work boots and tan coveralls. And Baze has even less to look at these days. He’d once been a trim man. Now he’s just a sad forty-year-old nearsighted divorcee checking the nuts of an S-pipe as a favor to a brilliant young architect who’d found him at random by looking up welders in the phone book.

Jyn Erso is twenty-two, driven, and all business. Something more than a client. A grudging friend. He’d done all-night work with her in near-silence together for her grad display. You don’t pull rush jobs like that for just anyone.

They meet once a week for drinks. They aren’t what he’d think of as particularly close friends because Jyn has a guardedness to her that tells you it isn’t a date, and if you try anything she’d crack your nose and leave you in the hospital. Not that Baze would try anything. But there is something particularly depressing about meeting up with an attractive and intelligent young woman who talks shop, having a nice evening, and then going home alone to your own unfinished house.

When Jyn had said her best friend needed to have his house looked at for renovations, Baze had had the sinking feeling that that was it, that he was being couched into approving of some future boyfriend, herded headlong into some sort of fatherly role.

He did not expect Chirrut Îmwe, answering the door before he could knock.

“You’re the inside man?“

Baze had blinked.

“Something like that.”

“Chirrut. Chirrut Îmwe.”

His handshake had been firm, vigorous, his hands as calloused as Baze’s.

“You’re…Blaze Malbus?”

“Baze,” Baze corrected with the long patience of a lifetime with an unusual name.

He’d kept clean-shaven and his hair close-cropped for years to try to cut down on the drug dealer jokes. He’d been a child during the Haight-Ashbury days, and still had never taken a hit. Straight A student. Good future.

Then his father had died when he was seventeen, and someone needed to bring in money for the house.

He knows all about how being good at something doesn’t cancel out bad luck, how the unexpected normally goes hand-in-hand with ‘unpleasant’.

In fact, Chirrut is unexpected in a lot of ways.

Trim black turtleneck. Woven bag. Loose pants and sandals. A red wrap around his waist that’s got an interesting and subtle woven texture to it. Clean-shaven. Close-haired. Chinese, like him, which had been another surprise. And definitely older than fresh-faced Jyn, though he has the peculiar agelessness to him that comes with a heavy fitness lifestyle. Probably another fucking righteous vegan, Baze thinks.

He thinks again of his dream, the details all blurred together, just a lingering sense of unease, of loss. Something that makes him want to wipe his fingernails on his coverall and expect to be talked down to by another idiot who doesn’t know which way a screw turns but makes more money than him and believes that’s because he’s lazy. Unintelligent.

The bad dream seems to be leaking into his sense of the man. He’s seen plenty of people like Chirrut. Has been checked out by far more intimidating-looking ones.

Baze wonders with a snort if he’s being set up, if Jyn has made some assumptions. Unlikely. Jyn usually keeps her head down when it comes to the affairs of others.

“I’m not that kind of plumber,” Baze says, too tired to keep any real heat in his voice.

Chirrut gives a bark of laughter that’s completely unselfconscious, a smile that’s much too even not to have been set that way as a child, with plenty of complicated orthodonture. Money, Baze thinks a little bitterly. Something he doesn’t have much of even before the ex-wife remarried, stopped demanding alimony in advance, and filed a totally unnecessary restraining order.

“Aah, well, you never know,” Chirrut breezes.

He is so blithe even Baze has to snort.

“Try turning the water on,” Baze mutters.

Chirrut steps over to the sink and Baze listens to the pipes, squints with his little penlight tucked behind his ear, the red beads of the chain clinking on pipe.

“Pour a glass for me. I want to check the clarity. Something transparent.”

Chirrut shuffles slightly above him.

“Don’t worry. There’s beer in the refrigerator if you get thirsty.”

“Beer,” Baze repeats.

Chirrut gives a noncommittal noise.

The only thing that’s thirsty here is you, Baze thinks a little uncharitably, making his way gingerly out from under the sink and unbending slowly, and with a wince.

“You don’t seem the type.”

Chirrut’s face shifts into comic dismay.

“My feelings are grievously injured and I rescind the offer of my specialty homebrew. You can drink out of the sink.”

Baze laughs, despite himself.

“That your business?”

“A hobby.”

Something odd has passed into the man’s face, the smile sagging at the corners.

Baze doesn’t ask.

Somehow it doesn’t surprise him that Jyn befriended a microbrewer.

“It was once women’s work, you know, the making of beer,” Chirrut calls.

His voice is a little too loud and bright in the low space.

Baze considers this tidbit, and how he’s probably supposed to react to it. What might be hinted and what might not be.

“Don’t tell that to Jyn,” he decides on.

Chirrut rips out another laugh, this one with a wicked edge.

He has a great laugh, Baze thinks absently. He must have caused plenty of trouble in his time. This too doesn’t surprise him in terms of Jyn’s choice of friends.

Against his better instincts he finds himself oddly okay with being watched by this hovering fellow. Always asking questions about what he’s doing, why he’s doing it. It should be annoying. Somehow it isn’t, comforting to talk about tangible things with that lingering dream hanging over top of him. The sense of incoming, inevitable failure and loss.

Baze often dreams of failure.

“How did you meet?“ Chirrut asks out of the blue, after hip-checking a table by accident.

Clumsy, Baze notes. Like anything that isn’t directly in front of him isn’t there.

"Hm?”

“You and Jyn.”

Baze is surprised at the heavy, intent look on the other man’s face. Blinks as he realizes.

Oh.

“Phone book.” Baze grunts, “Under ‘Welders’.”

Nothing weird, he wants to add. Doesn’t, since he’s sure somehow that would make it worse.

…Is he actually going to be given the shovel talk by a Five-foot-Eight beatnik?

Baze doesn’t know whether to be flattered or concerned. Jyn is a very pretty girl, with a good head on her shoulders. Nice tits, too, if he’s completely honest. She could do a lot better than him for sure. He hopes, in a blaze of worry, that she knows it. Good God does he hope it.

He blinks.

The rising, tight tilt of the other man’s chin is very much like Jyn’s.

“You?” Baze asks, trying to keep the uneasy frown off his face.

“Destiny,” the other says.

Baze laughs before considering whether he’s supposed to. A dry noise.

“Really.”

The corners of Chirrut’s mouth go mercifully up. He leans back against the counter.

“I wandered into the grad installations by accident and she almost murdered me with a power sander.”

He makes it sound like the most casual and reasonable thing in the world. Baze swallows down another laugh.

“Get out.”

“That’s what she said,” Chirrut deadpans back, dislodging Baze’s laugh from his throat despite himself. Despite how utterly cheesy it is. Chirrut, he notices, turns his whole face like a cat when he peers at him. A flicker of surprise.

“…Have we met before?” Chirrut asks faintly, something uncertain in his features.

Baze snorts, shaking his head.

“Definitely not.“

Chirrut frowns but goes on with a shrug.

"Anyway, my Tai Chi was completely ruined, I offered her free self-defense lessons to compensate her for the fright, and we’ve gotten along famously ever since.”

Baze makes a listening noise.

The thought of anyone weaponizing Jyn Erso’s anger is completely terrifying. He’s half-convinced Jyn’s lambent rage is its own renewable energy source.

“You give her your beers?”

Chirrut gives him a look of practiced disdain his mother would have been impressed by.

“Forget I asked.” Baze mutters, shrugging.

“Have you met Galen Erso?”

Chirrut’s dark eyes are narrow, intent. Without the easy smile his whole face is narrow and long, proud-looking somehow. Something in the combination of lips and chin and brow.

Baze searches his memory for the name. Finds nothing with a slow shake of his head.

“Who?”

“The father,” Chirrut’s chin tilts up again, a slow fury in his dark eyes.

Baze frowns, guessing.

“…Alcoholic?”

“Mm,” Chirrut agrees, his chin set and stubborn like a little fist, “The quiet kind.”

Baze considers this more carefully, a slow frown settling. Next Thursday he’ll relocate them to a cafe, he thinks. Cut down on the girl’s intake. Someone has to take care of her.

“You try talking to her?”

Chirrut gives a sharp laugh again.

“Have you tried stopping Jyn from doing something before?”

Baze thinks. Chirrut’s already grinning, shaking his head, utterly fond.

“When Jyn Erso rebels, the whole world follows,” the man says.

Baze frowns. He’s starting to realize why a thirty-something-looking bohemian fitness freak of a man in a Bill Gates turtleneck is Jyn’s best friend.

“I have Thursdays,” Baze says stubbornly.

“Are you serious?” Chirrut laughs.

“Your day must be either Tuesday or Wednesday–”

“It’s Friday, actually,” Chirrut cuts him off, the laughter still in his eyes. He looks utterly unintimidated. Amused, even, arms folded across his stomach.

“Then if she matters to you–”

“Good God, you’re like an old woman,” Chirrut interrupts, laughing.

Baze’s fingers tighten. He’s a big man, and he knows it.

Chirrut is not, and still meets his look without an ounce of fear, a blasé arrogance. Baze notes suddenly the outline of his shoulders. The trimness of his waist, remembers he’d said self defense classes.

“Jyn’s an adult. She does her work and does it well. Life doesn’t end because of a bit of Black Porter on a Friday Night,” Chirrut says, shaking his head slightly.

Baze’s disapproval sits heavy in his belly, welling up in frustration. A great weight of words he can’t say to a stranger, a friend of a friend.

“I can see why you and Jyn are friends,” he settles for, leadening it with the full force of his disapproval.

Chirrut shrugs, a manic glitter in his eye.

“I like a straightman with me when I cause my trouble,” he pauses, inclines his head with a smile, “Or woman.”

Baze lets out a breath in disgust.

He bets it’s the same bar on Friday. He has half a mind to make the time to fish them both out. A growing protectiveness.

“Don’t drag Jyn down with you in whatever trouble you get into.”

Chirrut makes a rude noise, his dark brows knitting irritably, ”Yes, mother hen. Will that be all?”

It comes so sharply, so abruptly Baze just stands there for a moment, realizing how far he’s overstepped.

He almost wants to apologize. Feels the sting instead of the comparison. Dismissal.

Baze bits down his words.

“…I’ll send you an estimate.”

“Well, good. You stay right there and estimate,” Chirrut drawls, bumping the same table, catching the same vase, “while I get you a crate.”

Baze blinks.

“A…what?”

“You need a drink!” Chirrut hollers down the hall, “You need about five drinks!”

“I don’t need anything!” Baze yells back.

He winces at the sound of his own voice.

Chirrut Îmwe has apparently gone selectively deaf.

“I don’t accept drinks from strange men,” Baze mutters, a little hot around the ears when he realizes the other man is indeed bringing up a loose crate filled with dark bottles.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m a painfully ordinary man cursed with spectacular beauty,” Chirrut replies back, making a face, “and not at all strange.”

Baze doesn’t laugh. Can’t. Caught by a strange sense of panic.

Chirrut taps a finger against the little barrel, something challenging in his dark eyes.

“Stardust Ale. Last year’s vintage. It’ll give you something to talk about with my friend.”

“I…can’t accept this,” Baze says quietly.

Chirrut is waving him off with a noise of irritation, shoving the thing into his hands.

“Go on. Get lost. Make your estimates. Come back when this,” he taps the crate, “is gone. Get drunk with some friends. This is my number,” he’s scrawling something large and loose on the side of the wood.

Baze gives him one last, exasperated look as he does so, as he’s manhandled to the door by prodding and pushing hands.

“And wear something different next time,” Chirrut adds, calling after him down the steps to the tilted street, “You look like a Ghostbuster!“