#had a long conversation with my partner about this

[trendywaifus]

↳ you’re my violet in the sun! (part one!)

a/n: ngl if i were to truly make this a friends with benefits fic, it would of been a bit toxic and sad. two parts btw. ly all.

cw: gn! reader with a dick, virgin! reader, reader down bad asf, no established relationship, reader is a pubsec! officer, reader described to be taller and have pretty lips at some point but gn ofc, you’re such a honest loser and jane’s a sucker for it, confessions during sex, creampie, praise, worship, oral fixation, cum-eating, tail-job (lol), cursing, mind dumbfication, size kink, vaginal penetration, pussydrunk, blowjob

you walk through the bustling streets of lumina square, fresh off your shift with an aching body. fortunately, you shed your heavy equipment from your person after clocking out so you’re able to tread around easier. who would of thought that solving mundane cases like chasing after lost cats and calming down rowdy teenagers would make you drained today? since you had worked with your rookie squad partner, seth, it made things a little easier. since he was a cat thiren, he has a natural affinity with cats and is certainly proving himself to be a good addition to the criminal investigation response team. but, his character is a little too. .earnest for your liking. seth is a textbook good guy but you don’t like how he endangers himself sometimes. however, it was either him, qingyi, or the captain. zhu yuan doesn’t like messing with furry animals and isn’t exactly good at talking to teenagers. qingyi. .isn’t really good with teenagers or cats either for obvious reasons so there’s not much to say there.

with a heavy sigh, you walked through the crosswalk as the pedestrian signal light turns green. a nice cup of coffee should do it and then when you return home, you’ll make some dinner. you should have enough ingredients for alfredo after doing a grocery run recently. you’re deep in your thoughts as you walk with a small crowd of civilians who’s busy with their own plans. suddenly, a finger lightly taps you on your left shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts. you crane your neck to glance over at that shoulder and left puzzled when you couldn’t find the person who did it.

“ haha, on your right~ “ the familiar saccharine voice snickers.

your stomach flutters as you turn your head to the source of the voice. you lock eyes with your colleague, jane. she gives you a playful smile, siren eyes crinkling. “ y-you play too much. .a normal hi would of sufficed. “ you groan, crossing your arms as she softly laughs besides you. she always sounds so pretty when she laughs. her voice pleasantly rings in your ears and you try your best to not let it linger on your mind. subconsciously hooking her left finger back with her coat strap, she steadily matches your walking speed.

“ sorry, sorry. i saw you walking down here after a important phone call. you seemed a little exhausted so i wanted to make you smile. i guess i should try a different method, huh sweetheart? “

sweetheart? your cheeks burn.

“ th-there’s no need, “ you start, fiddling with your belt to distract yourself from the butterflies jittering around in your tummy. “ i was going to get some coffee at coff’s cafe to help my exhaustion. um, thank you though, miss jane. “

you’re so polite and awkward, it’s adorable.

“ oh? “ you feel her interested gaze on you. “ you don’t mind me coming along, do you? i could use some caffeine right now because i’ve been pushing myself a little too hard lately. i feel like eating a energy bar right now wouldn’t give me the extra kick that i need. ”

you thought about it for a moment. although you’re quite shy around jane, you enjoy her company. you just need to swallow back your social anxiety and hold a decently long conversation with her. it’s quite hard though when she’s gorgeous. “ i don’t mind, miss jane. i. .would appreciate your company. “ you’d admit, sending the shorter woman a warm smile that came out too awkward for your liking. there’s a certain glimmer in her siren eyes as they slightly widen. her rodent ears lightly jitter before she reciprocates your smile back with a soft one.

“ . .alright, good. “

after a minute of walking, you stroll into coff’s caffe with jane at your side. you greet tin master with a small wave and ordered what you want. “ mochaccino, please. what about you, miss jane?”the rat thiren hums thoughtfully.

“ hm, a latte is fine. “

tin master enthusiastically collects your orders and fixes up your coffees.

“ so, “ the tin master begins as he swirls the cream on your mochaccino. “ are you two perhaps a couple now? it’s my first time seeing you two together. if so, you made the right choice, miss jane. they maybe a little shy and stiff but hopefully you can help get them out of their com—“

bashful, you abruptly cut him off, sputtering, “ n-no, tin, w-we’re just grabbing coffee today—not dating, just c-colleagues! “

“ . .oop! i’m sorry! l-let me just finish with your orders! forget what i said! “

jane blinks several times, glancing between you hiding your flustered face with your head tilted away from her and the tin master nervously humming away as he does the last finishing touches with her latte. such a comedic sight to see—it feels like she’s in a comedy romance movie. jane bursts into a fit of giggles, bringing a palm to her mouth as she does. “. . .hahaha! i will, i will. but, i do like to admit that they’re quite the cutie~”

“ j-janne. . “ you grumble, carefully taking your cup of coffee after the tin master slides yours and hers on the counter.

“ i’m just teasing you, (name). you don’t have to take everything i say to heart sometimes~ “ though, what she said was the truth. you’re very easy on the eyes.

jane gets her own cup and follows you over to the small tables. you sat down at a seat with a soft sigh. she sits down alongside you, and plucks a spoon from the small bin containing the silverware. jane curls her tail around her leg to keep it contained. a small moment of silence sinks in between you two and you anxiously think about what to say. maybe ask about the important phone call she mentioned about earlier? no, she’s a consultant, most of the information she receives is classified, even for you. perhaps her day? that’s a good general question to ask. you wonder why she’s been pushing herself lately.

“ so. .miss jane? “

“ hm? “ the light sound of metal hits your ears as she aimlessly stirs her coffee, dissipating tin master’s latte art. poor guy.

“ . .how was your day? you mentioned to me earlier about how you’ve been pushing yourself lately. by any chance, are you prepping for a big case? “

jane nods with a “mhm” before explaining, “ yeah, but i can’t really say anything given the severity of the case and i’m sure you’ll be brought to light about it soon enough. “

she sips on her latte. the relaxing, rich contents seeps down her throat, filling her body with a satisfying warmth.

you give her a puzzled expression. ‘brought to light about it?’ since jane works under pubsec and the criminal investigation response team as the specialist—perhaps captain zhu yuan assigned her to the case first before informing the rest of the team. you might be expecting another raid operation in the following days or so.

“ so, when are you leaving for it? are you going under a different alias this time? “

she shakes her head, chuckling, “ i’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning. for this case, jane doe will do just fine. “

oh? so her actual fake name. you lift the cup to your lips, the creamy fluid explodes on your tongue. you’re unaware of jane’s keen gaze watching you. with a satisfied sigh, you set the cup back down, feeling the soft cream on your top lip. you stick out your tongue to lick away the residue. jane’s ears flutter with unknown intent, cyan eyes slightly narrowing. “ so, how was your day? anything interesting happened?”she inquires, lazily propping a leg over the other, and rested her chin on her gloved palm.

you perk up nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “ well, not exactly. chasing pets and squashing teenager squabbles was really all i did. “ jane drums her finger against the wooden surface, silently identifying your awkward tendencies that makes her smile a little. rubbing your neck, fiddling around with your fingers, while having that small, sheepish smile on those pretty lips of yours, and you’re glancing around—you can barely look her in the eye. despite your size, you’re quite the adorable little officer.

“ oh, really? squashing teenage squabbles? i’m wondering how you’re able to do that when you can barely look at me while we talk. you don’t have to be nervous around me, i’m just here to give you company. i don’t bite. “ she teases light-heartedly, her carmine lips curling upwards more as you laugh awkwardly.

“ w-well, it’s just you’re. .”

“ i’m what? “ jane eggs on with an amused expression on her features. her tail unwraps from her leg and lowly sways.

“ you’re very. .beautiful so it’s hard for me to talk to you sometimes—“

“ pfft, hahaha! “ jane lets out an endearing laugh, nearly hunching over with a hand on her stomach.

“ d-don’t laugh, miss jane! i didn’t know what else to say—i was only being honest! “ you stammer, lips pursing into a thin line.

“ no, no, you’re fine, sweetheart. that’s what i like about you. i-i was just taken back by how cute you really are. i haven’t laughed like that in a while. “ jane wipes the tears from the corner of her eyes with a thumb. you decide to take a few more sips of your coffee, fighting back the dopey smile threatening to spread across your lips.

after an hour of talking, you long since finished your coffees. she’s so lovely. you only worked with her a few times in operations and had some occasional small talk during your patrols. this was the first time you sat down and had a long conversation with her. you learned about her taste in action movies, taste in music, and what she usually does on her days off. despite how quick she is on her feet, jane’s more of a laid-back person. you almost can’t believe that she likes to have lazy days where she snacks on energy bars? that’s unexpected but somehow fitting for her. it’s starting to get late but admittedly, you want to spend more time with her before she leaves for her case the next morning.

you stand outside of the cafe with jane, swallowing thickly as she wraps up her conversation with you so she can head back home and prepare for her next case. before she can bid you goodbye, you blurt out, “ actually. .i’m making alfredo tonight. do. . you want to come over and have some dinner with me, miss jane? i-itt’ll also be beneficial for you so you wake up with extra energy in the morning. . “ you offer awkwardly, shifting your weight on the opposite foot.

the fairly, sable haired woman merely stares at you with a quizzical look on her face for a short moment. anxious under her stare, you shift your weight on the other foot. jane breaks out into a fond smile, her tail swishing slowly, mirroring her delight. “ i guess it wouldn’t hurt to join you, sweetheart. how far are you from here? “

you exhaled a quick puff of air in relief. “ at least twenty minutes away from here. i take the metro. “

“ interesting. .we could be in the same neighborhood because i take the metro and that’s the estimated time that it usually takes for me to come home from here. “

that really is interesting. how come you never see her if you and her are from the same neighborhood?

“ i’m usually out and about during evenings and throughout the nights so that might be why we don’t really see each other. “

ah.

you unlock the front door of your home and opened it for her. “ you first, miss jane. “ you smile politely at her and she smiles back. she brushes past you, the pointed end of her tail gingerly grazes under your chin as a silent, playful thank you. “ o-oh. . “ you murmur, easily flustered by her mischievous gesture and followed her inside, closing the door behind you then locking it. jane slips off her boots and steps inside your living room. she scopes out the decently large space with visible interest. it’s tidy and feels homey, not to mention, it smells just like you.

“ so, um, yeah this is my home. “ you force out a little shy laugh that she finds endearing. “ i’m going to go freshen up and change first before i cook anything. you can rest on the couch and listen to the radio, o-or watch tv while you wait. do you want me to give you some water before i go? “

jane slips off her bomber coat and sets it on the elbow of the couch she have decided to rest on. a black, sleeveless mock neck crop top that fits her and her style perfectly. that’s what she usually wears underneath? she’s looks so good in that. you hold yourself back from staring longer than you should. “ no, i’m okay. thanks. i’ll be right here when you come back~” she sing songs, plopping down on the sofa and stretches out her limbs. jane waves at you playfully and giggles when you scurry off to your bedroom.

“ sweet thing. .today may not be so tiresome after all.” she trails off, skimming a quick thumb over her polished red nails.

jane decides to turn on the portable radio that’s settled on the coffee table in front of her. carefully, she adjusts the notch, glossing over channels until the one that suits her taste pops up. a slow r&b song that she often hears from time to time fills the quiet atmosphere of the living room. exhaling, she leans back against the head of the couch and checks her phone for any new dms and calls. she sighs with relief when she discovers none and rests her device on the rounded table. it took a little over thirty minutes before you come back out—in a tank top and sweatpants. jane always wondered what you’d look like outside of your uniform and she is not disappointed by the sight in front of her. how could you look so good while being such a socially awkward sweetheart? there are many interesting characters within pubsec but it’s still surprising that you’re one of them and a good one at that. her primal thiren instincts softly kicks in the longer her stare lingers on your form.

“ sorry that i kept you waiting, let me go make the food. “

“ or better yet, “ jane purrs, admiring you from head to toe with an inviting gaze that makes you shiver. “ come here. let’s talk some more. ” she pats a spot next to her. you gulp and made your way over to the long sofa where she resides at. your fresh scent pass through jane’s nostrils as you sat down next to her which stirs something from within her. yet, jane tries to ignore the growing sense of yearn that’s slowly chipping away at her self control. there’s that nervous glint in your (e/c) eyes that almost makes you look innocent.

“ miss jane— “

“ just jane, sweetheart. you’re making me feel old when you say it so sweetly like that. we’re just about the same age. “ the rat thiren corrects through a soft, half whisper and chuckle, running a steady hand down your arm and squeezed your biceps. you slowly bob your head, subconsciously running your tongue across your lips. jane’s gaze follows the movement of your kissable lips before flickering back up at your eyes. “ jane, um, so what is there you wanted to talk about? “ you inquired gently, cheeks hot and so is the blood coursing through your veins. she doesn’t think she can hold herself back—not when her thiren senses is beginning to act up like this.

her rat ears flutter, not once, but twice.

“ have you. .ever been with anyone like this before, sweetheart? “

your gaze shifts off to the side.

“ no, eyes back over here. look at me. “ she holds your jaw with her gloved palm and maneuver your head back to her. a helpless noise vibrates in your chest as her siren eyes bleeds into yours.

“ i. . no. “ you muttered, ashamed.

jane releases your jaw to caress your cheek, “ that’s okay. there’s no need to be ashamed about it. do you trust me? “ she asks in a hushed tone, closing the proximity between you and her until the intoxicating scent of her perfume wafts strongly against your nose and you can feel her calm breath against your lips. her thumb massages your cheekbone in a tender manner while she waits for an answer. you swallow, gathering the courage to say one word that’s threatening to spill from your tongue.

“ y-yeah—“

soft lips press against yours in a quick kiss, gladly consuming the surprised sound rumbling in your throat. jane shifts forward, her free hand plants itself on your shoulder and gently push your upper body downward until your back hits the cushions. she hovers on top of you, situating herself between your legs. one of your legs is hanging off the long sofa while the other is bent on it. her fingers skim down to your jaw and slowly traced the outline of it. your heart is beating fast against your rib cage, pumping blood lower and lower to the specific part of your body that exposes your excitement.

“ ah? “ jane momentarily pulls back to eye the tight outline of the growing bulge hardening in your sweat pants. she’s only seeing the preview and she can already tell that you’re big. you’re full of surprises aren’t you? excitement flows her veins like an injection of anti-corruption serum. she rolls her bottom lip between her teeth with profound anticipation. “ . . .j-jane, you’re staring. .”you pointed out shyly, tentatively placing your hands on her waist. a nonchalant hum simmers in her chest.

“ am i baby? sorry, it’s hard not to when you’re under me like this. “ jane simpers, dipping down to lay sweet kisses on your cheek before targeting your lips again. unlike last time, it’s a firm press which is nearly not enough to signify her want for you. but because you’re obviously inexperienced, she want to take it slow with you. you nervously apply pressure to her sweet lips, faintly tasting the cherry balm and latte she consumed earlier with you. your hands lack confidence as they run down her sides.

“ don’t be nervous. touch me more, i’m all yours for tonight. “ and maybe for many nights more. she takes one of your hands and guides it to her right breast. with the help of her delicate guidance, you gently squeezed her through her black, mock neck crop top. the plump flesh feels tender and pliable even through the silk fabric. a pleased hum leaves her. jane’s pillowy lips smoothly slot between yours by the slight tilt of her head. your head becomes light-headed as the slow, dizzying kiss lasts longer and longer. the hand that was once over yours drops and slips under your tank top. your body slightly arches into her warm palm as it explores the plane of your belly.

your mouth parts and so does hers, following after your lead. “ j-jane, “ you murmur in between quivering breathes and soft open-mouthed kisses to your lips. a mhmm?, rasps in her throat. the aforementioned woman’s hand edges near the waistband of your sweats.

“ th-this is my first time. . “ you mutter breathily as if to remind her.

jane slowly pulls away, half-lidded teal eyes softening once they pool into yours. “ . .i. .know, “ then she reels herself back from her carnal desires for a moment to rationalize. was she really intending on taking your first time when she’s not even in a romantic relationship with you? you don’t even know much about her or her true name. did she seriously allow herself to give in at the heat of the moment? didn’t you originally invite her over to eat dinner with you? your first time should be with someone you wholeheartedly know and love. you deserve a genuine experience with someone who’s just as genuine as you are. it shouldn’t be her. she belongs in the shadows, not in the soft light of your eyes. she shoves back her growing feelings for you before things get more complicated than they are now.

jane sighs almost dejectedly, straightening up her back. you hold onto her waist. she’s vague as she apologizes. “. . let’s stop. i’m sorry, i should of known better than to do this when you’ve only invited me over as your guest to eat. . let go, i’ll take my leave. “

your eyes widen with confusion and hurt.

“ j-jane, no. please don’t apologize and go, i want this too. “

her turquoise hues study the expression on your face; you look like a sad, kicked puppy. damn, it’s making her not want to go. she doesn’t want to leave you alone like this and prefers it when you’re happy with that crooked smile on your face. things really are starting to get more complicated now.

“ you should want this, “ she chuckles bitterly, ears subtly flattened, “ but not with me, sweetheart. come on, let me go—hm! “

you take jane by surprise by firmly pulling her down by the forearm and she lands on-top of you. you place your hand on the back of her head and pulled her into a clumsy, open-mouthed kiss. teeth clash as you kissed her. your other hand clamps down on the small of her back. you arch your body into her, grinding the ache that’s straining your sweats up against her.

her breath audibly hitches. “ i want you, i never wanted anyone more in my life, “ you confessed, splaying hasty, wet kisses against the corner of her lips, down to her chin and sharp jaw. “ please don’t leave me. “ you beg, voice thin yet filled with honest passion.

jane’s tail replies before she herself does; the thick appendage softly thumping against the firm cushion. her chest bloom with profound infatuation as her heart starts to bleed with warmth. it wouldn’t hurt to escape the underlying loneliness of her disingenuous lifestyle for just one night with you—it wouldn’t hurt to bask in the pleasure of feeling genuinely loved and sought after.

“ i. .won’t. are you sure about this though, baby?” she checks, her nose brushing against the plush flesh of your cheek.

“ y-yes, yes—so please, “ you grasp one of her hands and moved it downward until she’s touching your throbbing cock. you babble, “ touch me, fuck me, i’ll do whatever you want just—“

“ alright, alright. slow down, “ jane chuckles at the needy tone clinging to your strained voice. she applies weight to her palm, rubbing you in broad strokes. you slip out a drawn-out soft moan that cements the infatuated woman’s desire to stay. “ i’ll stay. “ she finishes in a tender whisper. thrilled by her change of decision, you press your lips against hers, again and again and again until her rosy lipstick has faded.

finally, she returns upright again—her hungry gaze striking down on you. “ you really are something else.” jane notes playfully, pulling off her fitted, sleeveless top from over her head. your eyes grow cutely wide as her generous, supple mounds spill and sit prettily on her chest. bright pink, perky nipples gleaming like gems under the soft lights of the living room. her milky skin looks so soft and pristine. your fingers twitch, itching to touch her. she tilts her head, fang-like strands hovering her eyes as she sends you a roguish smile. “ go on. “ she encourages, once again having to take your eager hand and place it on her bare right breast. just as you expected, soft and pliable like clay. when you squeeze, it slightly spills between your fingers like a stress ball. jane draws out a breathy groan and bites at her lip.

sticky pre-cum stains through the cotton fabric of your boxers and sweats. you feel so swollen, it’s starting to hurt.

whining, you retract your hand away, taking quick puffs of air as your frantic fingers pull at the waistband of your bottoms and hurriedly tugged them down to your thighs. your leaking length springs out, nice and tall, surprising jane. you sigh of relief from freedom. the baffled expression on the rat thiren’s face makes you regret giving into your impulse.

“ m’sorry jane, i-it was starting to get uncomfortable. .” you whimpered out, fighting the urge to stroke yourself right in front of her to relieve the ache. she recovers, teal eyes softening apologetically with a twinge of amusement.

“ my poor baby, “ she coos in a smooth drawl, slipping off her gloves and tosses them onto the table. “ ‘should’ve told me so, i would’ve helped you relieved it sooner. now, relax for me. “

jane transitions downward until she’s face to face with your needy cock. she encircles her hand around you, starting the momentum off slow and aimed. “ . .you’re bigger than i thought. “ she mutters under her breath, noting how she can barely fit one hand around you. her hand size is above average than a typical rat thiren.

you try to suppress the small groans as jane pumps you—all the way to the base and back up to your leaking tip. her thumb swipes over the rivulet of pre-cum and skillfully uses it as lube. “ hang in there, sweet thing~ “ she purrs, her sultry voice sweet like candy and smooth like butter, “ i’ll take care of you.”she plants a saccharine kiss against your cockhead. her tongue slips through parted lips and leaves a longg wet stripe up your shaft. your toes curl with trickling pleasure while she butters you up with her elongated tongue. once your cock meets the inside of her hot, humid mouth, you become a whimpering mess.

“ ‘so warm, so good. . “ you moaned, smoothening your face with a shaky hand. her gaze is focused on you, filled with amusement and lust as she sucks at your cockhead and twirls against it with her skillful tongue. she slowly sinks down, taking in heavy inches of your shaft. even when she’s relaxing her jaw, you’re heavy just enough that it’s tensing. a guttural noise bubbles in her chest when the thick head of your cock stretches down the opening of her throat. she deems it enough and moves back up to the top, leaving behind a sheet of her slick saliva. “ f-fuckk. .i. . “ you cursed, propping a forearm over your eyes.

her brows raises with mirth. she managed to get you to curse like that already, huh?

jane does it all over and over again—until you’re completely drunk off her mouth. the slick noises escaping her stuffed mouth while she pleases you sounds so vulgarly satisfying, it’s teetering you closer to sweet release. when she sucks hard at a particular sensitive vein, your hips judder and you utter out a loud, strained whine. “ imightcumimightcum, “ you repeated like a desperate prayer, sucking in quick breaths of air to battle the rapid rise and fall of your chest. the hand that’s not busy stroking what she can’t reach, massages your trembling thigh.

jane ascends to the tip and spoils it with attention with her slick tongue. she flicks at it and drags the thick ball of her tongue along the puffy slit in tight, circular rotations. your cock twitches erratically as you cried, “ c-cumming! “ billowy spurts of cum shoots into her mouth without warning. a stunned noise vibrates in her chest as she struggles to swallow rope after rope of velvety cum. you let out a cacophony of broken cries, rickety hips leaning up into her mouth.

“ pl-please tell me i’m not dreaminggg, “ you slurred, staring up at the ceiling with blurry vision while trying to catch your breath. jane swallows the rest of your load, the slightly salty and bitter taste of your cum marinating in her mouth. she laps up the remainder of your cum with her tongue. by now, her neglected heat is dripping and her panties soaked.

pop!

the rat thiren titters as she pulls away temporarily to undress herself, “ maybe you are, maybe you’re not~ i’ll leave it up to you to figure that out, baby. “

it takes her a minute to undo her black, fitted shorts and the straps to her ripped stockings. you hear her sigh and mutter under her breath, mostly complaining about how inconvenient it is to take off her stockings without ripping them more. your droopy gaze shift away from the ceiling and onto jane who’s now completely naked. your mouth goes dry as you admire her breathtaking figure. she herself looks like a dream you’re lucky to witness—to touch with your own hands. then, your eyes fall to her pussy that’s practically dripping. her transluscent essence trickles down her inner thighs and your mouth almost instantly salivates.

“ j-jane, you’re. .”

and she gives you a knowing smirk, knowing exactly what you’re referring to by the direction of your entranced gaze. her hand travels down to her soaked pussy and with two fingers, she skims them across her folds, smearing her juices. “ all of this is because of you, sweetheart. here, “ she brings the two slick-coated digits to your lips and they part open immediately. “ have a taste. “

your eyes flutter at the addicting taste, a slutty moan releases from the base of your throat. your slimy tongue hungrily licks at jane’s fingers, lapping up the left-over juices. jane finds herself enjoying how needy you are for her—just like a desperate puppy. drool rolls down the right crevice of your lips once the saliva overflows. “ w-wan. .more. .” you groaned after jane removes her digits from your mouth. the thread of spit thins out and dissipates.

“ oh, you do? “ she queries, the modulation of her voice is meant to almost be mocking, feigning ignorance. you bob your head frantically.

“ f-fuck yes. pl–please baby, sit on my face. i-i promise i’ll make you feel good! “ you’d beg hoarsely, your mind is practically hanging onto a thread.

licking her faded peach lips, jane’s cobalt eyes crinkles. “ you already are, no need to promise. but since you’re giving me those puppy eyes, i can’t say no, huh? “

it only took a moment for jane to adjust her whole body and hover her sopping pussy over your face. her thick thighs sunk into the cushion on both sides of your head. you feel yourself growing hard again as you hungrily eye her pink, dewy folds and engorged clit. “ tap me when you need to, got it? i can’t guarantee that i’ll get up though. .just kidding~ “ your colleague teases and you wish that she wasn’t.

after nodding your head, she carefully sits down on your face. the strong, heady scent of her has your mind gladly slipping off the singular thread. you get straight to eating without prior experience, your hands envelop around the plush fat of her thighs. you run your greedy tongue up and down her messy pussy, coating her essence all over your tastebuds. she tastes so heavenly. jane rasps out a moan before biting her lip. “ mm, move your tongue a little lower—yeahh, focus right there, baby. “

you focus your attention on her sopping hole, lapping and slurping up her syrupy juices. smushing your face further into her cunt, your nose graze her pulsating clit. her blessed hips rock back and forth on your tongue, chasing the ever-growing pleasure that’s clouding her rational thought. you drag a sloppy strip back up her folds to suck on her neglected clit. “ haha, you’re a natural. .” jane lets out a strained laugh, kneading her left breast. she rolls her hardened bud between her index and middle finger.

sluurrp! sluuuurp!

you’re soo pussydrunk, nestling your face into her delicious heat, making a mess of yourself. through heavy breathing, you whimpered out, “ i-i’m so in lovee. .” while digging your nails into tender skin.

“ oh y-yeah? “ she smiles roguishly, teeth baring as a sense of pride flows into her. the pointed end of her tail trails down your abdomen and to your groin. it meets with your fresh boner and you melt. she wraps the thin ends of her tail around your cock and slowly strokes you. a sharp gasp retracts from your swollen lips. “ j-janeeee. . “ you utter out, buckling your hips to her strokes. her fingers thread into your hair, curling around (h/c) strands.

she tugs, urging you to continue. “ aht, no. keep using that gifted mouth of yours. “

through quick, quivering breaths, you gloss your tongue all over her cunt, swerving your head side to side. your nose brush against slick, black hairs as you suck on her clit once more. her thighs tremor from each hard suck of her nub. her back arches, head thrown backwards as you stimulate her to the edge. “ d-damn, i-i needed this, baby. . “ jane moans out, pressing her thighs harder against your head. you’re starting to feel light-headed from the limited room of oxygen and the heat of her skin. yet, you still devour her pussy without a care in the world.

“ just like thatt, mmmh, hah. .haha, “ she exerts out a raspy laugh at the obnoxiously loud slurping noises you’re producing from between her legs. “ just like a thirsty puppy th-that’s having its fill. .”

jane rides your face while also fastening the pace of her tail around your cock. beads of sweat roll down her furrowed brow, beautiful features crunching together as the urge to climax accumulates in her body. without a second thought or a thought lack there of, you push your tongue into her sensitive, sopping hole and she squeaks. jane grabs the elbow of the couch for support as she hunches forward, digging her teeth into the tender flesh of her bottom, plump lip.

your tongue swirls inside before thrusting along her gummy walls. she’s close. she’s so so close. despite her hips stuttering, she rolls her hips sloppily. “ ugh, g-gonna cum, take it all for me, yeah? i-it’s only fair after all. “

you grip her thighs tighter, holding her down as a response. with one last prolonged moan and the tight press of her thighs, she cums. globs of thick, syrupy essence pour down on your eager tongue. a throaty whine crawls out of your throat, sending sweet vibration through jane. “ i-i think i might be dreaming too. .” slightly light-headed, she jokes breathily, taking in soft gulps of air. by now, her tail is already unwrapped around you and swaying slowly in the air. you’re still slurping away, cleaning up the candied mess between her thighs.

after jane catches her breath, she slowly removes herself from your face to witness the mess she’s made. the lower half of your face is covered in her cum. there’s something that ignites a candle within her as she eyes that drunken expression you currently have. “ what a mess eater. .my messy eater.” she mutters possessively, positioning herself on top of your body. her fingers softly curl around the left side of your neck while she leans in and laps up her own fluids from your face withy filthy intent. her long, warm tongue wetly swipes up your chin and stops right below your hot cheek.

chuuu.

she plants a damp kiss on your cheek. “ kiss mee. .” you’d slur, slightly turning your head to her, chasing for her sultry lips. jane chuckles, giving you what you want without teasing. your head angles to deepen the kiss and moaned from the bittersweet taste of her cum and your own on her tongue. your hand finds a spot on her bare back and slowly skims down the gentle slope of it. “. . i want you to stay here tonight. “ you mutter against her lips and kissed her again.

“. . .you know i can’t. don’t tell me you’ve forgotten and we haven’t even finished yet. “ she mutters back, stifling back a frown at the thought of having to leave you in an hour or two to prepare herself for the undercover mountain lion gang infiltration in several hours.

“ i-i haven’t. .i just. .— “

“ don’t worry, “ jane interjects, “ i’m sure we’ll see each other soon enough. but. . “ just not like this goes unspoken.

“ b-but what? “

“ let’s make the most of the time we have now, sweetheart. come on, both legs on the couch. “ she instructs gently, and you do so, propping the leg that was once hanging off the bed on the couch. her hand skins down your collarbone before she moves away to align herself with your thick length. she throws you a easy smirk, “ watch closely now. “

squeeelch.

jane slowly sinks down on your cock, her face twisted into a concentrated expression. you watch with lovesick eyes as her pussy greedily swallows all hefty inches of you, bottoming you out. “ oh my god. .” you’d whimper, feeling everything raw —from the heat of her insides, the fluttering of her slick walls, your cockhead brushing against a tender spot. “ i can’t believe th-this is happening. . “

you’re so big. even as a rat thiren who has an impressive ability to adapt to nearly anything, she’s struggling to adjust to your sheer girth and size. you’re stretching her out in every which way. but, she can’t help the thrill rushing into her veins like a dopamine rush. “ i’ll h-have to admit, i can’t believe this is happening either, “ she dips her chest against yours. her weight on top of your body makes you trip over your desperation all over again. her long tail slithers out to the radio and carefully turns it up a few notches. the music plays noticeably louder in the background.

“ but l-like i said, we’ll make the most out of it—of my stay that is. . “ jane finished, gyrating her hips on your eager length. she has stuck you in place with tight circles, leaving you utterly breathless. you throw an arm around her midsection, pressing her more against you to leave no space behind. all you want to feel is her bare skin sliding over yours like the perfect puzzle piece. her sweet, breathy moans fan against your left perky ear. your unsteady hips pump up into her and she’s nearly gasping for air. “ i-i wanna know more about you. .” you begin, kissing at her pierced, rodent ear.

‘can’t quit you, you’re like drugs.

“ i w-want to hold you close just like this whenever i get the chance too. “ you continue, and moaned in sync with the woman of your dreams as you clumsily thrust into her ruined pussy. her hands grip your shoulders, velvet nails digging into your skin to withstand the immense pleasure. your tongue trace the cool metal of one of jane’s ear piercings, her ear twitches. “ i often wonder about your name. i-is it just as memorizing as you are? hngh. . “ you almost choke on your own spit over the firm squeezing of her gummy walls.

‘swear I tried to clean up.

“ wh-where. .hah. .is all of this coming from? “ jane finally asks amongst her trust issues, confusion, and well-hidden doubt. frothy cream pools from her sloshing pussy, causing a ring to form around your member.

‘too much shared between us.

“ . . i-i don’t know but i just don’t w-want to leave you alone. “ you confessed honestly, the three words not developed on your tongue just yet. your other arm wraps around her body, hugging her fully as your rutting hips piston into the fat of her ass. her heart skips one of many beats. the filthy sounds of plap! plap! plap! resonates loudly in your ears. you turn your head, the tip of your nose grazes her flush, milky cheek as you find her lips. jane also turns her head to meet you in a passionate kiss full of tongue and teeth. hot breaths mingle as the desperation between you twists and turns into a endless spiral.

she holds your jaw in place, firmly pressing the pads of her fingers into your jawline. you twitch erratically inside of her, yet you still continue to fuck into her. even when you shoot globs of cum inside of her, you still keep going; not wanting to stop.

‘saved my soul like jesus!

you desperately suck on her tongue, ignoring the exhaustion of your burning thighs one last time and snapped your stuttering hips up off the cushion. jane produces a strangled moan as your fat cockhead smack against her g-spot, emptying yourself into her more. suddenly, jane pull away from the kiss to bury her face into the crook of your neck. thick fluids seep out of the cracks of her stretched hole while her tail is stiffened, signaling her quiet release. she breathes heavily into your neck and you hold her tight in your arms, coming off from your high. the long, faded red piece of her hair runs past your fingers as you comb through them shakily.

you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking, “ i. .i know we’ve done these operations multiple times now but. .please be safe since you’ve mentioned about this case being severe. hopefully captain calls the squad up for a special meeting about this case soon. “

it takes a prolonged moment for her to respond. she drags a finger along your collarbone. jane feels vulnerable, stripped away from her armor and the only thing she has now is her true feelings—its raw and indescribable. oddly enough, the way you’re holding her close feels like a blanket around her; she feels warmth. “ . . if i knew you were this much of a sweet talker, i wouldn’t have come here for ‘dinner.’ ”jane finally whispers against your skin playfully.

“ what d-does that suppose to be mean? “

she giggles at your flustered voice. “ think about it. but i was only kidding though, sweetheart. “

jane removes her face from your neck to gaze at you with her lidded eyes. her thumb gently brush across your bottom lip as she stares into your eyes, as if to decipher anything that’s hidden behind the colored shades of them. the sharp edges of her gaze softens when she finds nothing but raw devotion. “ you’ll stay for a little longer right? “ you ask hopefully in a weak voice and she sighs before resting her forehead against yours.

“ mhm. it’s not like i can move anyways when you’re holding me tight like this and while you’re. .”

she alludes to you still being inside of her, cockwarming her. your face visibly grows shy and jane laughs. she leans in to kiss you, slow and brief. “ aht aht, don’t be shy, take responsibility~ “ jane purrs, tapping your cheek affectionately.

“ u-umm, i will! i-i promise that i’ll take care of you and our baby and—“

flabbergasted by your misunderstanding, jane was quick to correct you, “ woah, woah. that’s not what i meant. what’s going on in that mind of yours, baby? did i get you dumb just like that? “

it’s cute that you’re willing to take responsibility of that role though.

“ o-oh! sorry, sorry. m-my brain is still in a daze right now. .“

“ figured~ “

you pout and she kisses it right off. after a few long moments of music and silence, the question that’s been floating around in your head now sits on the tip of your tongue.

“ jane? “

she hums, caressing your warm cheek with her thumb as a slow jazz song plays in both of your ears.

“ what are we now? “

her thumb stops, ears subtly flattening, and her gaze shifts somewhere else.

recognizing that look, your heart plummets.

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Price and his marriage problems with you

Angst to comfort 'cause I just can't deal with leavin' it hangin' and being angry at the writer (me) for just endin' it like that Playlist Inspo: Yaur, it ain't a song but a whole ass playlist 'cause we in for a hellavu ride *fire sound effects*

Price just sometimes gets too prideful for his own good, his bravado taking the step forward instinctively when it comes to serious conversations involving you.

Deep down, he always wants what's best for you-- for you and him together as partners.

But that sometimes doesn't get translated in the way you would understand his intent, and this is proven true once again when he comes to learn that you driven home drunk after a night out with your friends.

"You could've gotten hurt."

Price, whenever in an argument with you, would never shout. That to you, speak volumes from the way he positioned himself to a wide legged stance, arms crossed to the way his icy glare seeped into the words coming out of his mouth.

But you've had enough of it.

"Well, you look like you could care less." You huffed out, slamming your front door closed and tossing away your shoes.

"Care less?" He hums, one eyebrow raised as he takes in your disheveled appearance. "Then my texts asking where you were and offering a ride home are just nothing to you?"

"No!"

"Then tell me," he steps closer but you step back. "how does it look like to you?"

This feels like he's cornering you, badgering for an answer he wants to hear and not about how you feel-- but you just can't seem to gather the courage to speak on it, after being denied of such things for so long.

So you bit your lip, backing up so far with your arms wrapped around, that you hit your back on the door-- and you had half a mind to run away from this, from everything, and most of all-

From him.

Price sees the panicked look on your face and feels his hand tucked under his armpit twitch, but his rational brain stops him-- knowing that if he let his inhibitions go right now, he'd see you hurt even more.

"Darlin'," he softly calls out this time, "tell me." But the demand remains the same-- and for a moment this made you believe he'd finally get the point and ask how you feel.

About him. About how this relationship have crumbled into.

"Y'know what John," you scoffed, "you wouldn't understand anyways."

He feels the ire grow from the way his hairs stand on end at your dismissiveness, your unwillingness to give an olive branch and just let him help you.

"Tell me anyways." He insists and you couldn't help how you obviously rolled your eyes at his one insistent dialogue option. Persistent in his ways of getting you to talk.

"And I said," you growled, "you wouldn't understand nor care to anyways!"

"THEN FUCKING MAKE ME!"

He cracks.

You crack.

And something inside both of you does as well.

Like a snap of a cord, the tension in its high rise grow cold.

Silence permeating the area you once found comfort in and called- "home."

Price sees the terror in your eyes and he just fucking knows he fucked up.

Fucked everything up just because he broke first-- snapped too hard at someone who held so dearly, but has now broken himself.

And he's panickily trying to fix it. Fix you. Fix each other.

His deepest nightmare coming into reality, the side of him he tried so hard to keep from you resurfacing, the acknowledgements of his faults getting the better of him as he you stare each other soullessly-- eyes not showing the same spark it did the first time he took you out.

Price knows he gets scary and unreasonable-- its part of his identity and how he deals with the other aspect of his life that he tries so damn hard to keep away from you.

Yet here it is- making its appearance in the worst. fucking. time. possible.

The silence is now broken with a sob coming from you.

You, who is unable to take in the state of the proud John you know and love now look to utterly destroyed from the one sentence leaving his mouth.

And the fact that its now out there, speaking a thousand emotions behind the four words he released in desperation.

You do love him. You love John so much sometimes it hurts to see him hurt you.

You're so damn frustrated with yourself that you can't handle being hurt by the man you love- you feel so pathetic, unable to take his concerns guised in criticism, his messages of tough love behind the formal texts on your phone, his small actions of appreciation from respecting your space and letting you breath after another argument.

"Are we done for John?"

You ask, through hiccups, forcing the matter on hand-- one of which you both desperately avoided for so long.

You wait.

You could hear the air still once again, it taking a chokehold on you, making you more desperate of the deprived oxygen.

You hear him shuffle to you.

The arms you previously wrapped around yourself were now around someone else, a different set now covering your own torso.

"My love," he chokes out, a soft "...Please" is all that he could manage.

"Please what?" You, yourself could barely respond but you knew you had to. He had to as well.

"Don't..." he sighs, head falling onto your shoulder. "...don't say such things."

"Why not?"

He feel him still.

"Tell me John."

He feels your position now. Vulnerable, wounded, and cornered without a choice.

"I'm sorry," he finally says with his chest heavy, "I'm so sorry my love, please."

He grabs your face desperately, hands now cupping your face instead of your waist.

And you could just see- how equally broken this man is.

You never saw Price cry, but that one time he slotted that ring on your finger and finally called you, 'his.'

But this... this is completely different.

From the way his eyes are dilated, not in love, but in genuine distraught. His hands shaky, not in nervousness, but anxiousness. His hands soft, not in care, but of fright.

If this is destroying him, then it did for you too.

Price continues to beg and plead, wiping your tears and dismissing his own. It doesn't matter if he can taste his salty tears and snot-- you just mattered more, and refusing to just stand there and watch you cry.

With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand to his hand softly grabbing it and Price thinks he finally got to you.

But you pull it away.

Instead, you pull in downward and intertwine it with yours, slightly swinging it between you.

"John."

You call out and he opens his ears, replies, anything to get you talking--, "yes my dear?"

"I'm hurt."

He's about to ask why, where, how-- he wants to know everything.

"And I think I'm hurting you... well, more like us."

He shakes his head, disagreeing immediately.

"Darling, no." He fumbles his words, "its me- I'm hurting you, hurting us, and I-."

"No, its my fault."

"No, its mine."

"No, I just sometimes can't take it."

"Then its me! I'm at fault."

But you both insist and it seems endless until you both run out of breath again, yet... your intertwined hands persist. Grip so tight that you wouldn't even think of letting go.

This...makes you laugh, a soft one, and John swear he could hear bells ringing again.

You test it and try to pull away but he doesn't let you.

You giggle again and its infectious that Price couldn't help doing it as well.

"Why..." his chuckles die down but a smile stays painted on his lips, "why were you laughing?"

You shook your head and continue swinging your hands with more energy, "don't know..."

"But," you raised your head- eyes connecting once more, "this is just so silly."

"Silly?" He scoffs, so confused at the how quick the emotions are changing.

"Silly." You insisted but end of sighing, hands slowing down.

"I think," you began with your voice down back to a whisper, "we should be honest and talk."

Price immediately nods in agreement and adds a, "and take a step back?" And he does this literally too, making you chuckle.

Realizing as well at how cold the room has been, contrasting the warmth of your hands.

"yeah..." you mumble and unconsciously reach out for him again. "let's try... again?"

He reaches for you but this time, his grip is soft as if he was ready to let you pull away again.

"Together."

A/N: gonna be makin one for the other boiyos too so... part 1/4? :>> Masterlist for my other works here!

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

batfam and the fanfic tropes i’m giving them

ft. bruce, dick, and jason

bruce

child’s teacher x single parent i mean that’s literally him. but also i like the idea of exploring his partner’s relationship with his kids

i want somebody to write like a bruce x whoever fic (whoever it is isn’t that important but i’m just saying i do think superbat is fun) with that trope

some college au where like all the kids have taken one of prof kent’s class and they all think he should be their dad

because they don’t want to leave their new dad

they’re hyping bruce up without him even knowing during their office hours

“like yknow prof kent, my dad has a dinosaur”

“oh…that’s certainly…interesting? i’m not sure what this has to do with intro to investigative journalism though”

“you could investigate the dinosaur! actually, we always have a big thanksgiving dinner and our butler, alfred, makes the best stuffing. why don’t you come over and check it out?”

“i’m not sure that’s appropriate of me as your professor. also i’m not sure a dinosaur would be a suitable—”

“you could get an exclusive interview with gotham’s richest and most eligible bachelor? um and we’ll throw in some wayne enterprises secrets too”

“…what was the address again?”

also i think he just gives me enemies to lovers vibes

maybe it has something to do with his canonical relationships

dick

meet cute i think he’s the only one who’s smooth enough to make this not awkward

like it is sort of awkward because this man flirts using puns but i feel like he’s charming enough to make it work

“hey girl are you a booger because i would pick you first” and then rolls nat20

fake dating

i feel like he would agree to it whether or not he actually liked the other person. honestly he might come up with the idea himself

he’s a naturally flirty guy and if he didn’t have a crush on the other person before he’s going to be so smooth with it

but then he spends time with them and he finds himself slower falling for them?

and like even if he ramps up the flirting, maybe tries to be more physical or spend more time with them, he’s not getting his message across and now he’s shooting himself in the foot for agreeing to this in the first place (and not realizing his own feelings and making a move before all of this happened)

but also maybe he’s just dense because he’s not picking up on the fact that they are doing a really bad job at hiding their feelings for him too

ALTERNATIVELY he goes into it already liking them

he thinks he’s going to be soooo smooth and charm them off their feet and then boom they’ll be dating for real

but for the first time in his life he’s stuttering and not knowing what to do and it’s really annoying how even when he’s like that, or maybe because he’s like that, he’s just as cute as he always is

he’s just a lover boy

jason

friends to lovers man seems like he needs to really trust somebody and have an emotional connection with them before pursuing a relationship

also this man canonically cannot flirt and cannot pick up on flirting so i don’t really think meet cutes are gonna work

i’m just imagining they’ve been friends for a while

it took him a really long time to open up. slowly, bit by bit, he reveals more of himself to his friend until he can honestly say they’re one of the people who knows him best

i think one of his biggest fears is not being good enough, like he’ll scare them away with all of his baggage and flaws. every time they have a late night conversation he lets his guard down a little and tests the water. he’ll give them a crumb and see how it goes. honestly, he’s terrified of their reaction but when things go well, he can’t help but want to give them more of himself

i think he’s always had bigger things in his life to worry about other than romance

is he a hopeless romantic? absolutely, if his bookshelf is anything to go by. but i think in some ways he has removed himself from that possibility a long time ago and maybe doesn’t see how he could be at all like the people in happy, loving, stable relationships that he reads about

it’ll take him a long time to realize his own emotions, much less act on them

and because of that, i think

idiots in love would also fit him very well. sorry i just think this guy is emotionally repressed and stupid and if the other person doesn’t figure shit out i don’t think he will either

i sure am roasting him a lot for someone who has a blog dedicated to him

but anyways, i feel like it would take a push for him to confess. whether that be a life threatening injury to either of them or maybe they’re getting too close to another person. i think he would need to come to terms with the fact that he could lose them and then decide that he would rather take the risk than never try

don’t think he’s making a move until he’s at least somewhat sure that the other person likes him back though

this is the best case scenario though. depending on what stage of his life he’s in when he meets somebody he likes, it could very well end up as a

right person wrong time i feel like he's also the most self-sabotaging out of all of them

like even if he met his soulmate, i think what he needs is therapy, not romance and would inevitably end up hurting himself and his partner when it turns out his own issues get in the way of his relationship

like he can't actually be fully vulnerable, not able to balance his work and personal life because what he's doing is so personal to him, not being able to settle down, that type of thing

guys i swear i want him to be happy

[the-au-thor]

ʙᴀʙʏꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴜɴ | ᴘᴛ.14 | ᴇ.ᴍ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Summary: everything is coming up roses (not really)

Cynthia and Gareth get married. You look stunning, Mun's hot.

Everything is gonna explode in your faces.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fey!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Click here

[¹][²][³][⁴][⁵][⁶][⁷][⁸][⁹][¹⁰][¹¹][¹²][¹³][¹⁴][¹⁵]

You climbed the stairs of the massive château, carrying your high boots in hand, and walked down the hallway. Before you even opened the door, you called out Eddie's name, pushing it open and stepping inside. They were about to play the final dance of the night, and you weren’t about to waste it searching for him. He’d mentioned going to the bathroom about fifteen minutes ago.

You’d been with him long enough to know that even if Eddie was setting some kind of bathroom world record, he wouldn’t take this long. So, with a slight huff, you shoved the door open and entered the room. The lamps on the bedside tables were on, casting a soft light across the space. That’s when you saw him, sitting on the bed, his profile illuminated.

He was hunched forward, elbows resting on his thighs, his hands holding his trusty notebook open.

“What…?” you murmured, catching your breath with a half-smile. “What are you doing with my notebook, Munson?” you asked, your voice teasing but tinged with reproach.

Eddie lifted his face to look at you, his expression fractured by a furrowed brow. There was something there—a mix of worry and maybe even disapproval.

“Your notebook fell on the floor,” he explained, pulling a card from the open pages. You recognized it instantly; Will had given it to you in Glastonbury after offering you that job. You’d tucked it into the notebook, trying not to stress about a decision you already knew, deep down, that you’d made but hadn’t been ready to face.

“Fey,” he said, his voice heavy, “I need to know why you’ve got Will Walsh’s number tucked away in here.”

You swallowed hard, bracing yourself. This was the start of a tough conversation, and a wedding wasn’t exactly the perfect setting for discussing your future with your partner. Everything had been going so smoothly—of course, something like this would come up now.

You’d arrived in France a few days ago, and right after the second concert in Paris, everyone traveled to Château du Rivau. A place originally built as a medieval fortress, steeped in history—literally—from the Hundred Years' War onward. It was almost spiritual, as Cynthia had put it, to add this union to the château’s storied past.

“Not that you can compare a rock star’s wedding to Joan of Arc’s cavalry,” Robin had whispered in your ear, “but I get her point.”

Robin, Steve, and Vickie had arrived to Paris with you. The rest of the psrty would arrived to the Wedding. Eddie, being the amazing friend he was, had ignored their protests and insisted on covering the best suite and all the meals and parties for them. Steve had even reconnected with an old friend working as a chef at one of the restaurants they visited. Robin assured you that this one was strictly a friend, which somehow made the whole thing even more romantic. Everything was still fresh, but Robin was convinced this could lead somewhere meaningful.

“This place, Fey… have you seen it?” Eddie had murmured, collapsing onto the bed you’d share for the week. “I could write an entire album here. Just give me a pencil, a tape recorder, and lock me in with you.”

He’d reached out, gently tugging you down beside him.

You’d followed naturally, curling up almost on top of him, resting your head on his chest and listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You’re writing in the middle of a huge tour,” you reminded him, tracing slow, idle patterns along his side. Your hand skimmed over the fabric of his Judas Priest shirt, your fingers occasionally catching on the faint ridges of old scars beneath.

“These days are for Garret and Cynthia,” you added softly, not looking up. “Maybe take a little break?”

The rooms in the château were limited. The new owners, who’d taken over in 1992, were still restoring parts of the property, leaving some wings unavailable for guests. That meant sharing rooms was a necessity. The group didn’t mind; they’d once all crammed into Mike’s basement, and nothing could ever be worse than that.

Eddie had kissed the back of your neck in silent acknowledgment before eventually drifting off to sleep. You’d pressed a kiss to his cheek, easing out of bed with practiced care not to wake him.

You wandered through the château’s winding halls until you reached the rear gardens. The courtyard had been restored, and a few gardeners were tending the trees and flowerbeds, giving the space a refreshed glow.

You hugged yourself, taking in the view until Robin’s voice interrupted your reverie. She and Vickie approached, arms wrapped around each other, both smiling as they studied you.

“What?” you asked, noticing the curiosity sparkling in their eyes.

"You look worried. Didn’t Cynthia hire a wedding planner?" Vickie asked, her tone genuinely concerned.

Robin let out a sigh.

"Don’t tell me she roped you into organizing everything?"

You laughed, relaxing your arms.

"Oh, she tried," you said with a half-smile. "But I’m pretty sure I found her a solid planner who’s going to handle all her requests."

Robin let go of Vickie, tilting her head at you.

"Then why do you look like someone peed in your cereal?"

You saw Vickie try to elbow her, but it didn’t seem to faze Robin at all. The two of them stared at you, their curiosity piercing. You hesitated for a few seconds before finally speaking.

"You two work in the music industry, right?" you asked, scratching at your scalp.

"Yeah, well, I’m in music production," Robin started, "and Vickie handles all the boring stuff."

Vickie crossed her arms, her mouth tightening into a silent growl.

"Legal. I handle all the legal stuff," she corrected while Robin nodded and gestured like, Yeah, I said that.

You took a moment, looking down at the ground before meeting their eyes again. "Good enough for me," you admitted, starting to pace. A step here, a step there. "And I’m trusting in the concept of confidentiality—especially from…" you pointed briefly at Vickie, who nodded in understanding.

Stopping in front of them, hands still on your hips, you exhaled sharply. Then, with a slight pout, you finally said it:

"About a month ago, Will Walsh came up to me at Glastonbury…"

Robin’s grin spread like wildfire, sharp and knowing.

"I see you remember that, Robin," you said dryly.

"Of course I do," she shot back, like it was obvious.

"He told me he’s leaving his brother."

Vickie gasped, placing a hand on Robin’s shoulder as if that single motion could communicate a flood of emotion.

"Oh my God," she said first. "Robs…"

"It’s happening," Robin said, nodding, just as shocked. "He’s leaving that jackass!" She spoke with such conviction, closing her eyes like she was savoring the thought.

"The musical balance is finally going to be restored," Vickie said with a smile.

Okay, so clearly they were fans of The Lull, but like the rest of the world, not fans of Freddie Walsh.

"So… back to my story," you teased, amused by their reactions. "Will made me a not-so-tiny offer to become his…"

"MANAGER! YOU’RE GOING TO BE HIS FREAKING MANAGER!" Robin screamed, jumping up and down.

Your eyes widened in panic as you looked around, rushing to cover her mouth. "Vickie, what part of confidentiality did she…? Oh, crap, do these walls echo, or what?"

Vickie massaged Robin’s shoulder casually, smiling.

"Give her a second," she said with a shrug. "It’s the excitement. She has to let it out, or she’ll get migraines, you know?"

Sure enough, Robin’s volume eventually lowered to a more manageable level.

"Muh-muf-tajk-it," she mumbled against your hand. You let go."Take it. Take the job. What are you even talking about? It’s your dream!" Robin exclaimed insistently. "What’s the problem?"

"The problem…" you murmured, looking between them, meeting their eyes in turn. "…is that I haven’t told Eddie. And Will’s business card has been burning a hole in my notebook—and my conscience—for weeks. Eddie keeps asking why I haven’t signed Robert’s new contract, and I haven’t found the right time to tell him. It never feels like the right time."

The three of you fell silent. Robin seemed to be deep in thought, mulling over the best way to respond. Vickie, however, was already smiling, her opinion at the ready.

"Oh, honey," Vickie started gently, "there’s no such thing as the right time. You have to make the time."

Robin nodded. "And it’s not like you’re telling him you’re breaking up with him or that you’ve…"

"I don’t know, caught a rare and deadly disease," Vickie finished, placing her hand over yours. "Sure, it might be a little weird for him at first. Eddie’s pretty competitive when it comes to your…"

"Attention," Robin interjected, clearly finding the right word before Vickie could.

"Yes! Attention. Exactly," Vickie agreed. "And yeah, it might feel a little strange, but if there’s anyone who’s ready to be your biggest fan and see you shine, it’s Eddie. Remember how he reacted at Steve’s party?"

"He was so mad about underestimating your talent and how Robert was overworking you," Robin recalled with a smirk. "He’ll be fine. You just need to tell him."

You nodded, absorbing their advice, and reached a conclusion.

"Maybe not during the wedding, though…"

They nodded in unison.

"Definitely not during the wedding," they agreed.

You smiled. "I’ll tell him after, then. Right? It’s not crazy to say yes to this. Is it?"

"It’s not crazy," Vickie reassured you.

"And I’m not leaving Eddie. I’m just working for someone else, and he’ll understand."

Robin scoffed. "Eddie? Of course."

That evening, dinner was served in an enormous dining hall that had been recently renovated. It was almost too ostentatious—tall ceilings with elaborate frescoes, chandeliers that looked like they belonged in a museum—but you knew it would make for a great story someday, the kind you'd laugh about with friends: "Remember when we had dinner in that over-the-top château?"

The band had asked you to hire cooks for the days they'd be staying, and the château's owners had recommended staff who could help with anything you might need. The meal was lavish, course after course arriving as the sound of conversation and occasional bursts of laughter filled the room.

As you ate, you caught Dustin watching you from across the table. His expression was thoughtful, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

When Eddie leaned over and offered you a taste of his dessert, you didn’t hesitate. You took a small bite from his spoon, then instinctively reached out with a napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth. He smiled at you, that genuine, easy smile that lit up his face in a way that still caught you off guard sometimes.

“That,” Dustin said, breaking the moment but not the warmth of it, “is exactly what I was talking about that night by the lake.” His tone was soft, a quiet reflection. “Seeing him like this? It makes me happy. Makes sense, you know?”

Eddie chuckled softly, brushing off Dustin’s sentimental tone, but his hand found yours under the table, squeezing it just enough to make you feel what words couldn’t say.

The sounds of the wedding preparations echoed outside. You and the rest of the girls had gathered in Nancy and Jonathan’s room to get ready. Cynthia had been sweet enough to hire a stylist for herself, her bridesmaids, and all of you, even though she didn’t have to.

As you got dressed and had your makeup done, the girls talked about their dream weddings. Some of them saw it as a distant future; others, like Suzie, felt it was just around the corner—literally. You listened, amused, as they debated everything from family life to the ideal number of kids. Nancy wanted one, citing her career and the importance of giving a child quality attention. Suzie agreed but for simpler reasons; she’d grown up surrounded by siblings and craved personal space.

Robin and Vickie wanted “a ton,” laughing about a rainbow of kids from all walks of life.

You felt a bit out of place in the conversation. You hadn’t thought much about love, let alone a family. But for a moment—just a fleeting second—you pictured yourself in that kind of life.

The revelation hit like a gut punch, leaving you feeling both heavy and hollow. Was it the wedding atmosphere? Or the way Eddie’s face came so vividly to mind in that fleeting fantasy? Whatever it was, it terrified you.

The girls left the room one by one, their black dresses trailing behind them as they headed outside. The groomsmen were supposed to be wearing white, except for Gareth and Cynthia, who stuck to traditional attire.

As you stepped out of the room, you didn’t expect to find Eddie waiting for you.

He was dressed in white too, though his shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and his bow tie hung loose around his neck, giving him that effortlessly cool but maddeningly attractive vibe. His hair had been tied into a neat bun, styled just enough to look intentional while still keeping his edge.

The chain with the ring he always wore dangled from his neck, and his fingers were adorned with his usual array of oversized rings—including the one you’d given him in Denmark.

Your mouth opened, words tumbling out before you could stop them.

"What? Trying to outshine the groom?" you teased, not bothering to hide the fact that you were really looking at him—from his boots to his perfectly tousled hair.

But Eddie stayed quiet, doing the same to you.

It felt like his gaze burned wherever it landed, starting with your black platform boots and slowly trailing up to your exposed shoulders.

You laughed nervously. "What?" you asked again, as if the word could shield you from the intensity of his stare.

Eddie wasn’t going to let it slide. Leaning against the stone wall of the castle’s west wing, he let out an incredulous laugh and shook his head.

“Jesus Christ, Fey,” he muttered, disbelief dripping from his tone. “God…” His eyes lifted to the ceiling, as if pleading to the heavens instead of addressing you. Slowly, his gaze dropped again—fixing on you, then on the gift he’d given you, now draped perfectly on your figure.

“Hurricanes are gonna get their names from you,” he said, dragging his fingers over his mouth like he needed to stop himself from saying more. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your skin prickle as if he were physically touching you.

For a few seconds, silence stretched between you, heavy and electric. Then, as if he couldn’t bear it any longer, Eddie crossed the space and cupped your face, pulling you into a kiss.

You surrendered without hesitation, your body leaning into his like it was second nature. Only when your breath faltered did you manage to break away, gasping for air. Eddie didn’t seem to care. While you caught your breath, his lips continued their exploration—trailing kisses across your jaw and cheek, as if no inch of you could go unacknowledged.

“Munson…” you murmured, his lips dipping to your neck, setting off a rush of warmth that pooled in your core.

This. Wasn’t. Normal.

“Mmm?”

“Mun…” you laughed softly when he kissed the center of your chest, just above the edge of your black dress. His hands pressed into your lower back, pulling you against the cold stone.

“What the hell—” you managed, breathless, as his lips continued their downward path, dangerously close to challenging the fabric separating him from his goal.

“Fey,” he murmured against your skin, his lips returning to your neck like it was home. “Gareth doesn’t need me.”

“You’re his best man,” you reminded him, your voice tinged with both amusement and exasperation.

“He’ll forgive me.—Eventually,” Eddie replied, voice low, his hold on you unyielding.

“Babe, this is one of your best friends’ weddings. It can wait.”

“No, no, no,” he protested, shaking his head. “Fey, this moment—this—is going to slip away, and I can’t let that happen. Not now. Not like this.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze urgent, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

“This damn dress. Oh, God,” he groaned, glancing up at the ceiling again like it might save him. “How the hell did I not think this through? You can’t wear that dress and look at me like that. Fey, how do you expect me to stand next to Gareth all night knowing you’re out here looking like trouble?”

You laughed, but it wasn’t all at him. His frustration mirrored your own, though he didn’t seem to realize how much of it you shared.

“It’s not going to slip away,” you reassured him, cupping his face and kissing him softly. “We’ll pick this up later, right where we left off.”

He seemed to understand then, the tension in his frame softening slightly. In the quiet corridor, Eddie pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead—a gesture so reverent it felt like a signature on invisible promises.

With a heavy sigh, he nodded, taking your hand firmly in his. When he finally let you go, it was with clear reluctance. You watched as he returned to the hall, positioning himself beside Big Rock and Jeff, ready to fulfill his role.

The Château stood like a timeless gem in the French countryside, its stone walls bathed in the soft glow of late afternoon sunlight. A long gravel path lined with meticulously trimmed hedges led to the grand entrance, where guests were already gathering. The theme was strikingly unconventional yet undeniably sophisticated—men dressed in pristine white suits, save for Gareth, who stood out in a classic black tuxedo. Women, draped in flowing black gowns of silk and velvet, created an ethereal contrast. Cynthia, radiant and otherworldly, was the exception among them.

Her blonde hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, catching the golden light. Her gown was a dream of white lace and satin, tailored to perfection. The neckline dipped tastefully, and the train swept gracefully behind her as she walked, a vision of timeless elegance. In her hands, she carried a bouquet of pale orchids and roses, a touch of white amidst the dark palette.

The ceremony took place in the château’s rose garden, framed by rows of perfectly pruned hedges and trellises heavy with climbing roses. A soft string quartet played in the background, their music weaving through the gentle murmur of the guests. Garret, standing at the altar beneath a wrought-iron arch adorned with white roses and greenery, could barely hide the emotion in his eyes as Cynthia approached.

The reception was held in the grand ballroom, its walls adorned with intricate carvings and chandeliers dripping with crystal. Long tables covered in white linen and accented with black centerpieces—candles, delicate vases filled with lilies—gave the room a timeless, cinematic charm. Champagne flowed freely as friends and family toasted the couple, their laughter filling the air.

The black-and-white theme extended to every detail—the towering wedding cake was a stunning black fondant masterpiece, adorned with white sugar flowers, and even the dance floor was a checkered marble expanse. As the evening deepened, Cynthia and Garret shared their first dance beneath the glittering chandeliers, their silhouettes perfect contrasts against the black-and-white backdrop.

It was a wedding for the ages, unforgettable in its bold elegance and the palpable love that filled every corner of the château.

Eddie’s eyes were on you throughout the entire ceremony—those deep brown eyes locked on yours, intense, as if silently repeating the promise you’d made to each other earlier. You felt it low in your stomach, a warmth building with every glance. There was no way you’d make it through the night without Eddie’s hands on every inch of you. You knew it. You felt it. And at this point, you didn’t care—you wanted it. That desire felt amazing, not obscene or easy to dismiss, and you both seemed to agree. You prolonged the feeling as much as possible: through dinner, the toasts, the cake, and the dance floor.

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom,” Eddie announced, his breath warm against your neck as he pulled his hands away from your waist.

“Come on, Munson!” Steve groaned from his spot on the dance floor, arms wrapped around her famous friend you’d barely had the chance to greet before the ceremony started.

“I’ll be back,” Eddie called over the music, leaning in to kiss you quickly before walking away.

Max and Jane pulled you to the dance floor, urging you to join them. You’d kicked off your platform boots, dancing barefoot now, the cool tiles grounding you as you twirled and swayed. You barely felt your feet, but you wouldn’t stop until the celebration officially ended and everyone had retired to their rooms. Two more songs passed, and Eddie still hadn’t returned. A flicker of worry crept in—you imagined him a little too drunk, lost somewhere in the château’s half-renovated wing, buried under scaffolding and rubble.

When you finally found him, of course, it wasn’t at all what you’d expected. That conversation you’d planned to have after the wedding? It had come early.

You didnt' plan to throw it at him like this. Not in the quiet tension of that room in that dark and big castle. Not in the middle of a wedding.

“Feywild,” Eddie’s voice cut through your thoughts like a jagged blade, pulling you back into the present. You turned toward him, only to meet the weight of his accusing glare. In his hand was Will Walsh’s business card, the number you’d tucked away scrawled across the back like a secret exposed. “Why the hell do you have Will’s personal number in your planner?”

The air between you felt electric, suffocating. You frowned, struggling to suppress the unease crawling up your spine.

“Sounds like you think I shouldn’t,” you murmured, stepping closer. The ache in your chest deepened as you kicked off your black boots, their heavy thud lost in the charged silence. Reaching for the planner in his hands, you tried to keep your voice steady. “What is this, some kind of rule now?”

His eyes didn’t soften—if anything, they darkened, sharp as broken glass. “You know that’s not what I’m asking, Fey,” he said tightly, his jaw twitching with the effort to hold himself together. “I just... I thought you said you weren’t taking that offer, that Freddie was a walking disaster. So why the fuck keep Will’s number if you’re not planning to take the job?”

You felt your pulse quicken as his words lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken accusations. Your tongue darted over your dry lips, a nervous reflex, and you reached out to pluck the card from his grasp. It felt flimsy in your fingers, weightless compared to the storm brewing in the room.

“I wasn’t gonna talk about this until after the wedding,” you admitted softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Your voice wavered, and you hated the vulnerability it betrayed. “Will’s leaving his brother to go solo, and he—he offered…”

“You’re leaving me for Will Walsh?” Eddie’s voice cracked, and for a fleeting moment, the sharp edge of anger faltered, replaced by something raw and pained. It hit you like a punch to the gut.

“Are you joking? No,” you said quickly, though your heart clenched at the disbelief etched across his face. “I’m not leaving you. I meant the job—he asked me to be his manager.”

The words hung in the air, but they didn’t seem to reach him. His jaw tightened, and his gaze flickered away, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “And when exactly did you decide this?”

The question felt like a blade, twisting. You could feel the weight of his disappointment, the unspoken hurt laced into every syllable. It wasn’t fair. His gaze, searching and relentless, bore into you, and you felt a flush of heat rise to your face.

“I haven’t decided anything yet,” you replied carefully. “I’ve been weighing the pros and cons, that’s all.”

Eddie let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp enough to make your chest ache. “Nah, Fey. You decided the second he gave you the offer. Otherwise, why haven’t you signed the contract Robert sent you? Huh?”

The question came like a slap, and for a moment, you just stared at him, stunned. Blinking rapidly, you felt the sting of unshed tears. “I haven’t signed anything because I’m still figuring things out! Why would I sign something if I’m not sure yet?”

“How long has this been on the table?” he pressed, his tone sharp enough to cut. There was a challenge in his voice, a dare for you to lie. But you didn’t.

You sucked in a breath, the admission sticking in your throat. “Since Glastonbury,” you finally confessed, your voice barely audible.

Eddie’s laugh was humorless, his smile a mere shadow of something real. “Since fucking Glastonbury?” he repeated, and the hurt in his voice was unmistakable. “And you couldn’t find a single damn moment to tell me? Why the hell did you hide it, Fey?”

Your heart twisted painfully at the look in his eyes—an agonizing blend of betrayal and disbelief. “Because I knew you’d react like this!” you shot back, the words escaping before you could stop them.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m betraying you!”

Eddie’s hand shot out to point at your planner, his voice rising with every word.

“And keeping it from me isn’t betrayal?” he snapped. “Will Walsh, Fey. Will freaking Walsh.”

“I thought the problem was Freddie, not Will,” you countered, your own voice beginning to rise.

“It’s all the same!” Eddie shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his anger. “You’re leaving me for Will Walsh.”

The accusation sent a wave of frustration surging through you, and you rolled your eyes, the motion as sharp and deliberate as your words. “So this isn’t about when I chose to tell you, is it? It’s about me working for someone else.” Your voice trembled with the effort to keep your emotions in check, but there was no mistaking the bite behind your words. “See? I knew it. This is exactly why I said we needed to keep work and our relationship separate—to avoid this. And now, you’re being completely fucking unfair.”

“Unfair?” Eddie barked out a bitter laugh, the sound so cold it sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes burned with something darker now—something dangerous.

“Yes, unfair!” you shot back, your frustration spilling over. “You were the one who got drunk at that party and told me I deserved more than this job. So why is it, the moment I get an opportunity that matches my skills, you take it so personally?” You crossed your arms, a defiant gesture, as your voice rose in pitch and intensity. “What is it, Eddie? Do you actually want me here because you love me, or because you’re so used to me saving your ass you don’t know how to live without it?”

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and for a moment, Eddie just stared at you, his lips parted like he wanted to respond but couldn’t find the words. His silence only stoked the fire inside you.

“Fey, I’m warning you. Don’t start throwing accusations at me—”

“No, no. Don’t you dare turn this around on me,” you cut him off, your anger surging like a tidal wave. “You’re the one who started with the accusations. I get it, maybe I should’ve told you sooner, but your reaction is so completely over the top. I’m not fucking leaving you, Eddie! I promised I wouldn’t, and I’m not. I’m just changing jobs. Is that really so goddamn horrible?”

“Yeah, it is,” he shot back, his voice trembling with emotion. His hand gripped the back of a chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “Will’s going solo. He’s gonna be neck-deep in backlash from his brother’s fans, and you think you’ll have time for a relationship? You’ll be launching your career just like he’s launching his.”

“And what?” you challenged, stepping closer. “I’m supposed to give up on my dreams because you’re scared we won’t spend enough time together? Your tour ends in a couple of months. We’ll make it work. We’ll adapt.”

Eddie started shaking his head before you even finished, his curls bouncing with the movement. His disbelief was almost palpable, and it was like you’d been stabbed.

“For fuck’s sake, Munson!” you burst out, throwing your hands in the air. “Do you even realize how happy it makes me to see you succeeding? So why the hell can’t I expect the same from you? I don’t want to walk behind you, Eddie. I want to walk beside you. Can’t you see that?”

For a moment, his gaze dropped to the floor, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but heavy, weighted with resignation. “You won’t be walking beside me, Fey. You’ll be walking away. You’re leaving.”

You let out a hollow, bitter laugh, the sound echoing in the small space. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut—he wasn’t speaking as your boyfriend anymore. This was your boss talking now.

“I can train someone else,” you offered, though the words tasted sour on your tongue.

“Not in the middle of a world tour! Are you insane? Do you really think anyone could fill your fucking shoes?”

You shook your head, trying to keep your voice steady. “I was hired because you couldn’t stay out of trouble. But since we landed in Europe, you’ve been focused. No incidents, no drama. You don’t need me, Eddie. Not anymore.”

He stared at you, and in that moment, the raw hurt in his eyes nearly undid you. “You always wanted to leave, didn’t you?” he said quietly, his voice shaking with barely contained emotion. “Admit it. You’ve had one foot out the door since the moment you realized your heart was involved.”

The accusation hit like a slap, and you felt your chest tighten as you fought back the tears welling in your eyes. “And what about you, Munson?” you shot back, your voice breaking. “You’re so scared of being abandoned that you can’t love me the way I deserve. You’re so wrapped up in your own feelings, you don’t even see mine. What am I to you, Eddie? Your safety net? Your little fairy, flitting around to make your life easier?”

“Fey…” His voice cracked, and you saw the tears in his eyes, but they weren’t sadness—they were fury, a storm you weren’t sure either of you could weather.

“Don’t call me that,” you whispered, stepping back as he reached for you. The distance felt unbearable, but you couldn’t let him close the gap—not this time.

“Don’t go, Fey,” he pleaded, his voice breaking.

Your chin trembled, and for a moment, you hated how fragile you felt under his gaze. “This was a mistake. We were never ready for this. You need me more than you love me, and I love you more than I need you.” Your fingers brushed over his as you took his hand from your face, the cool metal of his rings grounding you for a fleeting second. “I quit, Munson,” you said firmly. “And this... us... it’s over. We don’t know how to make this work, and if we keep trying, we’ll destroy each other.”

“You’re fucking running away, Feywild,” he accused, his voice raw with desperation.

You nodded, tears finally spilling over as your heart shattered. “Yeah. And you’re scared, Eddie. We’re both just doing what we have to to survive.”

[grlsbstshot]

Join us for the next chapter of NEON LIGHTS premiering sat.

Catch up on the previous chapters here. Chapter I // Chapter II // Special Edition // Chapter III

James Lucas sits down with Reese Lane of RHYTHM Magazine! Hear all about life, love, and his upcoming third album -- promisingly titled Painted -- during this exclusive interview!

When he won a Grammy before the age of twenty, James Lucas – born Jameson Lucas to music legend, Anaïs Lucas – knew he was in trouble. He says his ego has always been an issue and didn’t improve.

“I caught myself thinking shit that should have never crossed my mind. That I didn’t need to keep improving. That I was already the greatest. I immediately started chasing gold. It was a high. But I wasn't ready for it...and deep down, I knew that."

He would choose to continue at Howard University, graduating at 21. Instead of returning to Los Angeles, Lucas moved to New York and in four short years, built a stage career -- a departure from his music dreams. 

He led a few off-broadway shows before hearing about one particular musical: Alexander H. He would be cast in the role of Aaron Burr but according to Lucas, he had a much more fortuitous thing happen to him – meeting his music collaborator, producer and songwriter, Ellington Dupree.

“He’s my best friend. I don’t know of anybody who understands music better than he does. He makes me better. And he’s the reason I found my sound. I stopped cosplaying as Ginuwine and Joe. I found me because I wanted to be as good as EJ.”

You know the story from here…Tony award. Grammy award. Moving back to LA to work on his second album with Dupree and then? Massive success with his second album -- titled 2506. Named for his age and month of birth, Lucas found himself exploring different kinds of r&b with an all new production -- provided by Ellington Dupree.

“Everything blew up. It was all a blur when we released 2506. Six Grammy noms, two wins. I didn’t even take the time to soak the moment in. My life had changed and I was just trying to keep up.”

His life changed in other ways on Grammy night. It was the first time he met his on-off partner, singer Imani St. Cirie. The two would go on to embark on a very public relationship for the next two and a half years before abruptly breaking up in early 2023.

The mention of her makes Lucas lapse into silence for the first time in almost an hour of conversation. Despite the rumblings of reuniting, neither star has spoken about the other. Even the reasons for their breakup are closely held secrets – unless you listen between the lyrics.

Reese Lane: Do you not like talking about her? James Lucas: I could talk about Mani all day. But I mean – we were together but now we're not. Reese Lane: And the Instagram situation? James Lucas: ...Do you listen to my music? RL: Yes. Often. JL: Then you understand me and Imani. You get that we're...complicated. RL: Is that what you want? JL: I want her. So...if she calls, I go running. If I call, she comes running. That’s what it means to be complicated as f*ck. It'll always be that way. I don't care who she moves on to – it'll always be me for her. And that's not ego. It's the truth.

And just as he says, there's an understanding of their relationship in the lines of almost every track. Lucas has never confirmed which songs are inspired by his personal life. But songs filled with lost love, longing, and frenzied sex paint the picture of a chaotic romantic life. I tell him so and Lucas laughs...long and loud before agreeing. He relaxes somewhat before escorting me back inside the suite, his new home while he films several films in New York.

Jameson and I enjoy a drink (or several), order pizza, and settle in for another round of questions. He's even more open than before. I ask him to tell me about his next album and he does one better -- he pulls out his phone and plays three tracks. Back to back. Without explanation or asking my thoughts. He says the album isn't done but from what i heard, it's pretty damn close to being that.

The first track he played was a smooth yet assertively playful croon about his love for someone who seems to not be paying him much attention in return. The next is a beautiful ode to a woman he seems to be encouraging to be happy. The last was completed recently he says -- two days ago, in fact -- and it's a moody deconstruction of...himself, his ego, and the way he treated another nameless woman.

I playfully ask if those tracks about his life and Lucas surprises me by answering with a nod. I push my luck and ask again if they were all about one woman. Lucas grins and shakes his head that time, confirming what i've long suspected -- chaotic.

RL: Why is your love life like...that? JL: I don't know. I mean...I kind of do it to myself. I love hard. I love foolishly. RL: So you've been in love a lot? JL: No. RL: Do you believe in having a soulmate? JL: I do. I suspect I have one. RL: Is at least one of those about her? JL: ...Yes. RL: Imani? JL: You keep asking me about her. RL: You two intrigue me. JL: Why? (laughs) We do what everyone else does. We fuck, we fight, we love each other, we hate each other. We get it right and we get it wrong. It's just love. RL: So why be apart? JL: Ask her. She may tell you. RL: I will. Tell me which one is about her. JL: The first. And the last. RL: Which one was the second one about? JL: A friend. I'm actually supposed to meet her at the MOMA in an hour. (smiles) I like you. You don't let me get away with shit. You remind me of another friend. RL: The same one you're meeting today? JL: No. Genie. She's practically my sister. RL: Genie Adesanya? Well, thank you. I'm flattered. You two are still close after the breakup of your parents? JL: I still annoy her just as much. She's my sister. Whether or parents got married or not. She probably wouldn't agree though.

Once again, I'm surprised that he answers so openly. If his publicist was sitting in the room, they might tackle me and throw me out...but Lucas breezes through each question, more honest than anyone would expect him to be. 

"I don't have any shame." he says when I ask why he tells me so much. "I put everything in my music. Why lie? It's all in the music." He's nonchalant as he brushes his hand over his head -- the trademark cornrows he's sported since he burst onto the scene at the age of 19 gone. I ask him about his hair and he gives me a sheepish grin before saying it was for a project but I doubt it.

RL: When do you think the new album will be ready? JL: Soon. I usually finish music way before it's released. I'm just...all over the place right now. RL: Rumors about you appearing in your first film are circling. Plus this upcoming album. How are you juggling it all? Jameson Lucas: Actor & Singer. JL: With a whole lot of prayer. (laughs) I don't know. I will always think of myself as a musician before anything else. I went to school for it, I worked my ass off for that title. I'll never just be a singer. I'm a musician. Everything else is secondary.

By the time we wrap up our conversation, I understand why Jameson Lucas has so many admirers. It isn't just the fact that he's handsome or the fact that he's incredibly charming. Not even the fact that he's tall, can sing like a prince, or that flash of gold you see covering his teeth when he speaks -- it's that he's an open book. Even when you know you shouldn't fall under his spell, you do. And he makes it very appealing to be there.

When he gives you that lazy grin with those blue-green-hazel color eyes while laying across a couch -- the image of virile relaxation -- you can only think of one thing. There's a cockiness about Jameson but isn't overbearing or unappealing. It's the right amount of (in his words) essence. Even when he's crooning about how to teach you 'correction', you can't find it in yourself to hate him. He makes you want it.

Jameson walked me to the door of his suite, holding it open for me as I left -- and insisted on walking down to the lobby with me. He's dressed casually but draws looks all the way down, his long legged stride tempered by the fact that I'm wearing heels and he doesn't want to leave me behind. We part ways outside his hotel -- with an offer to interview him again once the album is out. I take up on it, we exchange contact information, and then he's off. He doesn't slide into a black car and roll the window up. He simply heads off down the street, towards the subway. On his way to a dreamy museum date with some very lucky friend.

[aerkan]

Okay, so, I'm feeling a bit melancholic right now and I, well, I guess I want to share my thoughts in case someone relates or needs to know they're not alone.

I've figured out a few years back that I'm firmly set in the aroace spectrum. I've never had a crush on anyone except for some fictional characters or famous people, but even then the farthest my 'affections' have gotten was a strong urge to offer them a hug, or wanting to hang out and laugh. Which I very quickly found out was the exact same as for my closest friends, just magnified by my excitement of the stories tied to those characters or my joy at hearing the person's jokes.

I've never been interested in sex. At all. I don't like reading about it, I get bored watching it, and the prospect of experiencing it fills me with nothing other than dread and annoyance. That's not to say I'm ignorant about it. I'm not. I know how it works, I know what 'my role' would be should I ever try it. But while all my friends were experimenting with it during our teens I stayed far away from the dating pool. Mostly.

I had my first kiss when I was 17. I felt weird right after because I've read a lot of romantic stories (looking back on it, it wasn't for the romance itself but the emotional closeness between the characters but whatever) and first kisses were meant to be something one should enjoy. Even my friends have said so. However, I felt nothing, only bored. It was my first kiss and I wished I could do something more fun.

So yeah, that didn't click and I spent the whole evening reasearching what the hell was wrong with me (turns out, there was nothing wrong with me). That's how the idea of me being ace took root but I wasn't very sure about it (didn't want to be).

Since then there have been a few more kisses, but nothing to be writing home about. I guess I've been trying to see if anything changed. It didn't. Gradually I had to admit to myself that I'm ace and what that means for me. After the initial shock of the new label I very quickly became comfortable being ace. It fit me and I was happy.

However, well, lately most my friends have started dating. Finding their life partners. My new friends already had lovers, when I met them or are also finding love. And I'm excited for them, really am. But this new development made me confront another part of my identity, which I've been steadily ignoring for years now despite knowing it wasn't exactly the norm.

I'm aromantic! (*throwing confetti*)

I've never experienced romantic love and probably never will. I adore my friends, they are the most important people in my life and I would do a lot of f*cked up things for them to be happy. And for the most part I'm okay with just hanging out with my classmates and seeing my other friends from time to time, making plans to see each other more when we're all free. But I also feel unbearably lonely sometimes. I feel unwanted, ignored and left out simply because I can't offer the same 'normal' conversations. I feel disconnected from society and I desperately long for a partner that would love me, that I could talk to every day, that I could hug and laugh with. Someone, who would be there when I get home, maybe waiting with a good meal or excited to tell me about the new tv show they started watching while I was gone.

Basically, what I'm saying is... I want a roomate. I want someone to live with me but someone who sleeps in a different bed. Someone who would let me cuddle them from time to time when life gets a bit harder than I can bear and someone who would be there when I need a laugh. Someone I can cook with or sing with. I want a friend living with me who wouldn't have that 'special someone'. I want someone who would want the same from me.

And the hardest part about this? Knowing I'm probably never going to have that. These days I live with this terrifying certainty I'm going to die alone and well... I already feel crushingly lonely right now. I can't imagine feeling like this for the rest of my life.

...well, this got really depressing. Wasn't the point, but it is the truth. I love being aroace, I love the warm little feeling I get when I make someone happy or the giddy butterflies in my chest when I make someone laugh. Ultimately, I love being alive to be excited about sharing a smile with a stranger. I would simply prefer if so many of my nights weren't filled with the existentinal dread of being left behind.

Sorry for the ramble guys, have a cute pokemon cause you're awesome!

[thornsent]

got an email from my long-time therapist (who is. arguably, the only one to of ever actually helped me) explaining she's taking a step back and no longer able to do therapy because of her health

it's fine, I didn't need any consistency in my life when I'm severely burnt out, anyway

[faaun]

ok let's catch up quickly

[nat1nonsense]

I wrote this long before Ashton and Fearne became A Thing, pinky promise!!

This old fic of mine has been getting a lot more attention lately, which is odd considering I posted it a year and a half ago, but I’m not gonna complain!! I’m still very proud of this one honestly, it’s by no means perfect and there are plenty of things I would change if I had written this more recently, but even still, for a 6.6k word, almost entirely fluff, fanfic? It does it’s job well, and I’m proud of it

Anyway. I’m reposting it again because it’s been getting a lot more attention. If it continues to get more and more attention, maybe I’ll start writing and posting again <3

[enigmaticexplorer]

Whenever you say that your response went on too long, I know I'm in for a good time.

I felt so bad for her the next day...she knows what she's doing, but she can't help herself! It's her self-defense mechanism

It's that self-awareness and the guilt/shame that accompanies it, along with the self-preserving innate human need to protect oneself. It makes for a sticky, uncomfortable, and maddening combination!

I was surprised that Fox was already waiting for her, but he is not just going to let this go. He wants to talk about it! I can't imagine how he felt all the night before.

I like to think he immediately went to Wolffe and they had a couple of drinks, and then he sat in front of a fireplace stewing. He spent all night sitting there (Wolffe abandoned him when he got tired); but he couldn't sleep. So he went into work as soon as possible to distract himself. Knew he was going to approach her as soon as she got to work. Got the alert about the cams and set out.

And when he said he wanted her that night, to me he wasn't necessarily saying he wanted to fuck her right that moment. I thought he meant he wanted to be with her, in all senses of the word.

Yes. You were right. It transcended sex. It was a pleasure-addled moment of vulnerability for Fox: admitting he wanted her - for the long term, through thick and thin, for always.

Well thank you, Commander Obvious! She is well aware of that fact, thank you very much!! But I am glad that he let her know that he knows though.

HAHA. This made me chuckle! But, to be fair, Fox is pissed off. And he's human. He has his bad-decision moments.

He was gone. He wasn't coming back to her shop. She'd driven him away. Which is what she wanted to do. But now it sucks.

Funnily, this is all part of Fox's plan. Yes - he's hurt and stewing and pissed. But he's also not going to force himself into her space when it will only make things worst. He's giving her space to stew; but he also has a guess that the distance might make her approach him. (Which is why he's so calm and unsurprised when she finally goes to his office.)

He KNEW who she was. He knew...how? BECAUSE FOX HAD TALKED ABOUT HER THAT'S HOW! He knew as soon as he saw her who she was. God, I loved that so much!!!

YES. Exactly! Fox told Wolffe about her (how could he not?). He's known about her for months. And of course he's going to be smirking at the thought of 1) her chewing out Fox (because she looks pissed, obviously), but 2) seeing his brother (hopefully) be happy.

I was so engrossed in their conversation, his reactions to her. How he was going to convince her that no matter what she said, he still wanted to be with her.

Me when men see their partner as a multifaceted human and still love her deeply: 🥹

Why was that so hot?!!! Honestly, why was that so fucking hot?

I know that MMCs lasting super long and being hella skilled in bed are what readers typically want. But I like my men desperate enough for their partner that they can't last long. The thought of her simply touching him and him nearly coming? It's my cup of tea; and I fucking love it.

"And I fell in"...LOVE! He was going to say he fell in LOVE!!!

And the way you ended up this chapter...brilliant!! Absolutely brilliant

Fun fact: the code to her apartment is the day the first Star Wars movie came out in theaters!

I'm going to reuse the only gif as my acknowledgement of all of your comments and how happy they make me:

Let Me Love You - Part IV

Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

General Summary. An opportunity to expand your grandmother’s business brings you to Coruscant and a chance-encounter with Commander Fox. Friendship is your intent. But feelings grow, and with them, renewed fears. 

Pairing. Commander Fox x female!OC

General Warnings. Self-esteem issues; intimacy issues; trust issues; explicit sexual content. 

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Word Count. 3.4K

9 Kelona, Zhellday

Early morning sunlight greeted you, playful and eager. It was the same each morning. A monotony fitting Coruscant’s metallic environment. 

The planet’s controlled climate lacked the inspiration of a heavy rainstorm as the skies blackened and sheets of rain pummeled the fields. 

It lacked the novelty of a spring snowstorm as a dense fog captured the hills in its uncanny embrace and snow blanketed the landscape for kilometers.

It lacked the natural yet unpredictable change among autumn’s maple leaves and the joy of a harvest nearing completion.

Perched on the edge of your bed, you glared out the window at the cityscape beyond. Already the walkways bustled with life. Air traffic crowded the sky. 

A planet with more than a trillion beings and you were more alone than ever.

A result of your actions, you were well aware of this fact. 

As solitude consoled you with its quiet, independence-encouraged embrace, so too did self-sabotage comfort: a self-preserving shadow that protected you from the unknowns of the future. 

Both solitude and self-sabotage were formerly lurking forces that, over many years, became your closest allies.

They looked out for you. 

They wanted what was best for you. 

They cared about you.

They were voices of reason. They maintained an organized list of your flaws, and reminded you of them often. Not to humiliate or shame you. Rather, to protect you from the inevitable hurt of abandonment. 

You couldn’t be hurt if you never opened yourself to the vulnerability of being—

Your feet lurched to a stop outside the stained-glass windows of the gallery. The panes of purples, blues, greens, and yellows glowed beneath the morning sunlight. They weren’t the attention of your focus, though. 

It was the man with a shoulder resting against the door and armored arms crossed over his chest. A man who was seven hours early.

You ground your teeth. Clenched and unclenched your hands at your sides. Smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from your pencil skirt. Unease coiled tight with foreboding as you forced yourself to move forward.

Fox lifted his head. Straightening, he removed his helmet, his expression carefully blank. 

You kept your face equally blank. “What are you doing here?” 

“We received a security alert.” The answer was unexpected. Your relief must’ve shown because Fox frowned. “The cams on this street went out an hour ago. A malfunction. I need to check the gallery.”

Understanding the wordless intent in his response, you keyed in the code. The door swished open and you stepped inside. The overhead lights flickered on in welcome. Depositing your bag atop the counter, you motioned for Fox to continue into the backroom and then logged into your computer, pulling up today’s schedule. A moment later and Fox returned. 

“I’ll need your security footage for the last twenty-four hours,” he said.

“I’ll get a copy made.” Your gaze remained planted on your computer screen. “It’ll be ready tomorrow.” 

Silence, swollen with tension, thickened throughout the gallery. 

Opening a file, you prepared notes for your first two client meetings, waiting for the door to announce Fox’s departure—

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

You stiffened. It took far too much effort to meet his stare, and once you did, you wanted to look away. His gaze was too familiar. Too intense. Too intimate.

“I’m not sure what there’s to talk about,” you said calmly. “We kissed. That was it. It was a lapse in judgement—”

“A lapse in judgement?” His low chuckle was anything but humorous.  

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Your arms wrapped around your stomach. “I won’t apologize for not inviting you—”

“Let’s start with you putting words in my mouth.” There was a rigid set to Fox’s shoulders: defiant, defensive. “I never said you were a hookup.”

“And I said that I don’t do them.”

Fox exhaled a sharp breath and then braced his hands against the counter. “You ran away from me. Without an explanation. Nothing. We could’ve talked, like the adults that we are, but you fucking ran.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You offered an exasperated smile. “It was just a kiss—”

“It meant nothing to you.”

“It was just—”

“A kiss.” Ire narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. I got that.” Releasing the counter, Fox scrubbed his jaw, eyeing you with an unfamiliar hostility that made you tense. “When I told you that I wanted you, what did you—”

“You don’t want me.” Your voice was inflectionless, dismissive. “You don’t even know me.”

Fox considered you for a long time. Then, scoffing with disbelief, he turned on his heel and started toward the door. However, halfway there, he paused. He looked over his shoulder. 

“I pity you.” His voice was low and yet it carried in the silence: deafening. “You say that you want to be known—you’re a liar. You don’t want to be known.��That means letting someone get close. Letting them see you. But you don’t let anyone in.” Steely anger hardened once-soft eyes. “You’re too fucking scared to give someone a chance.”  

Before you could react, before you could respond, Fox strode through the door and disappeared down the walkway.

The next day, Coruscant’s afternoon shone as usual: unordinary, temperate. You were filing notes from your recent meeting with a donor when the front door swished open. The unfamiliar cadence in the visitor’s stroll informed you that it wasn’t Fox. The differences in armor—white accented with red, no kama—further confirmed it. 

The Guard introduced himself as Commander Thire. You led him into the backroom where he checked the sword. He left with a perfunctory nod.

That night, huddled in a tight ball on one side of your bed, you gritted your teeth as tears puddled on your pillow. It didn’t matter that you were staring blankly out your window. They trickled down the planes of your face, as persistent as autumn’s drizzle pattering against red and gold leaves.

You were alone. 

You would always be alone.

The next day, Commander Thire visited your gallery at the same time with the same professional indifference. 

That night, you sat on your couch and watched hours of entertainment on the holo. It was mind-numbing. An endless relay of drama that kept you from thinking about him.

On the third day without Fox, you selected an elaborate recipe for dinner, purchased ingredients after work, and then spent four hours deliberating over your meal. 

Finely chopped vegetables, each measured to an exact length.

A pretentious sauce requiring varied times of simmering, boiling, and cooling.

Stew, slow-cooked and mandating both counterclockwise and clockwise stirring.

Bread dough left to rise to an exact second, and then kneaded for a set number of rolls.

Thinly sliced citruses, marinating in a simple syrup and then muddled.

Once finished, you sipped the vegetable stew, savored the spices of the sautéed salad’s sauce, munched on the toasted bread, sipped your citrus-infused, nonalcoholic drink. 

Throughout your silent dinner, you defended your actions and decision from a jury of mental critics. Not only were you protecting yourself, but you were saving Fox from eventual disappointment. He deserved better.

On the fourth day, while Commander Thire made his departure, you called after him: “How much longer of this?”

He paused. “ ‘Til Commander Fox deems the issue resolved.”

Your eyes narrowed. “It’s been four months. Do you really think the daily visits are necessary?”

“Commander Fox believes they are.” Commander Thire extended his chin in your direction. “He oversees this specific case. And he’s relentless with the things he wants.”

The fifth day without Fox’s presence, the 14th of Kelona, Zhellday, you were still mulling Commander Thire’s farewell from the previous day. For some reason, it was stuck in your mind. Snagged on an obstinate thorn. 

And he’s relentless with the things he wants.

As you strolled out of the gallery and down a darkening walkway, you rolled your eyes. Fox was relentless. Persistent in his objectives. Consistent in his doggedness. His relentlessness went beyond his career—it was obvious in your last conversation. The demand for an explanation. And the harshness in his parting words. 

I pity you.

Gods, you hated those three words. You hated the disdain on his face. You hated the way his judgement speared your chest and stripped you bare.  

Your pace quickened with your anger. 

How dare he judge you? 

How dare he pity you?

The mere arrogance was fucking unbelievable. 

For five days, you’d let his words exist without argument. Without debate. But he couldn’t have the last word, especially when his judgement was so inaccurate and uncalled for. 

A sharp turn took you in the opposite direction of your apartment.

Twenty minutes later, you strode into the former military base, now headquarters for various military and security departments. A lift ride spat you out on the Department of Security’s floor. Three Guards, dressed in armor, were chuckling about something. 

You strode toward the front desk. “Where’s Commander Fox’s office?” 

One of the men—a dyed mohawk slicing across his head—rubbed the back of his neck. “Commander Fox doesn’t have any available appointments this late in the evening.”

“That’s fine.” You leaned against the desk’s counter. “I’ll wait for him to leave.”

Before the Guard with the mohawk could argue, a Guard with a cybernetic eye strode out of an adjacent office. Unlike the others, he didn’t wear any armor. He glanced you over. “Down the hall,” he said. The beginning of a smirk curled his lips. “Last door on the right.”

With a curt nod, you made your way down the hall. At the last door, you rapped the metal. The door immediately opened.

“You had—”

Your voice faltered as you took in the two men seated across from Fox. Commander Thire and another Guard.

“Sorry.” Embarrassment flushed through your upper body, and you retreated a step. “I’ll wait—”

“They were just leaving.” Fox rose to his feet, levelling a pointed look at the two men. “We’ll continue this later.”

Commander Thire and the other Guard stood, the latter muttering under his breath, “We just got here.” Commander Thire thwacked the back of his head. 

As they made to leave, you scanned Fox’s office, taking in the stiff, gray couch pushed against an adjacent wall and a single holophoto mounted on the opposite wall. There were five men in the photo; they all wore different colored armor. You recognized Fox and Cody, and to your surprise, the Guard with the cybernetic. The two other men you weren’t familiar with. 

The swoosh of the door announced Commander Thire and the other Guard’s departure.

You faced Fox. He’d rounded his desk and was leaning against its front edge: relaxed, unflappable. It annoyed you.

“You had no right to say that you pity me,” you snapped. “You don’t know me—”

“I do.” Fox tucked his hands into his pockets. His gaze was steady on yours. “I’ve spent the last four months getting to know you. I know you better than you think.”

“Is that so?” He remained quietly composed, and you shook your head. He didn’t know the real you; the realization hollowed a wan smile on your mouth. “I’m opinionated and self-righteous.”

He merely arched a brow.

“I’m a perfectionist,” you said calmly. There was a desperation unspooling within you—a desperate need for him to see your flaws, your issues, and reject you. So you could finally move on. “To the point of being overly critical of both myself and those around me. I prefer things to be a certain way.”

Fox nodded solemnly.

“I’m self-preserving.” Your eyes narrowed at his unaffected demeanor. He needed to understand; you needed to make him see to understand. “I’m cold. Some probably consider me heartless.”

“I’m well aware of your flaws.” Fox spoke with an equanimity that made you stiffen. His eyes swept across your face. “I have them, too. I can be controlling when stressed. Dismissive of others’ feelings. Blunt and apathetic—so much so, it comes across as condescending.”

“We’re not talking about you.” He started to chuckle. “I’m not having kids.”

The statement cut through his chuckle and he sobered.

A knowing smirk sliced across your face. “I’m selfish when it comes to my physical and mental health, and I know myself. I know that I won’t make a good mother. But I do know that most men want kids—”

“Some of my brothers have kids. You know that.” Fox turned a smug smirk on you. “But I never imagined children in my future. I like being an uncle. That’s it.”

You gritted your teeth. “I don’t do blow jobs.”

Fox released a choked noise, and he brought a hand to his mouth, running his thumb along his lower lip. He looked…the bastard looked amused.

He was supposed to be disillusioned by these revelations. Suddenly uninterested, disgruntled. Not fucking amused.

“I don’t like being choked or roughly used or humiliated.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I refuse to be used.”

Fox nodded thoughtfully. “All right.”

His blasé response was simultaneously shocking and irksome. You frowned. “I’m being serious.”

“I know.” He shrugged at your bemused glower. “I don’t care how you touch me. And I can be satisfied with just your hands. You learned that a few nights ago.”

“I don’t believe you—”

“I almost came in my trousers that night. All because you fucking touched me.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Don’t question the effect you have on my body.”  

Your lips pressed in a thin line.

Fox tapped the edge of his desk. “Would you suck my cock if I didn’t fuck your mouth? If I let you…do whatever you wanted?”

“I…” You pressed a palm to your chest, massaging it. 

The thought of tasting him—running your tongue along his shaft, sucking on the tip, exploring his body with slow licks—without the fear of expectation or being used was…appealing. You wanted to listen to his moans, and feel him tremble beneath your touches, and watch him come apart. 

You wanted to be with him; you wanted to experience the physical intimacy. 

But, even if he didn’t fuck your mouth, it didn’t matter.

“I’m not good at sex.” You stared at him, weary, drained. “I’m slow, and I struggle to orgasm, even on my own, and penetration can hurt. It’s a waste of time—”

“I fucking hate when you say that.” Annoyance hardened the consonants of his words as Fox scowled at you. He exhaled a long breath and then pierced you with an exasperated stare. “A man won’t give a shit how long you take. So long as he gets to see you naked—so long as he gets to touch you—he’ll take whatever time is necessary.”

“You’re ignoring the part about penetration—”

“There are other ways to find pleasure.”

“Sure, but sex is—”

“A learning curve.” Fox mimicked your stance, arms crossing his chest. “I don’t care if it takes months. I don’t care if it takes years. I don’t care if I spend the rest of my fucking life learning. All that matters to me is being honest with one another. And being willing to learn.”

You dug your fingernails into your biceps. “I don’t have the body type that men want.”

“You’re generalizing men’s wants,” Fox said sharply. “But you don’t know what I want. You’ve never asked.” 

You clenched and unclenched your jaw. “What do you want?”

“You.” Fox straightened to his full height and stepped forward. “I’ve already told you this—”

“You don’t want me, Fox.” Your voice was quiet, as hollow as you felt. “You may want me temporarily, but it won’t last.”

“Yeah? How do you know that?” 

As he closed the distance between your bodies, you backed into the door, eyeing him. 

“You’ll be disappointed with me,” you said. “Or you’ll grow bored.”

Fox braced his hands on opposite sides of your head. Trapping you.

“I don’t think you’re taking my points about sex seriously—” 

“Sex is only one part of a relationship. And I fell in—” He swallowed. “I want to be with you because I like you. I like being around you. I’ve had four months to get to know you—flaws and all—and I’m still here.”

The intensity of his gaze was too much to bear, so you lowered your eyes to a point on his chest. This close, you could see the failed attempt to remove a scorch mark just above his heart.  

“You said you pity me,” you whispered.

“I…was angry,” he said quietly, regretfully. “At you. With myself. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.” 

A combination of sweat and something woody—cedar—enveloped you. As tangible as the arms caging you against the door. 

“I can’t promise that I’ll be the perfect man,” Fox murmured. “But I’ll hold myself accountable for my mistakes. And I’ll strive to be a good man.”

Emotion flared within your chest, tightening your lungs, constricting the back of your throat. 

This was supposed to be easy. Simple. He was supposed to dismiss you—see your issues and turn the other way. 

“You aren’t perfect.” Your eyes were trained on his chest plate, but you could feel the heat of his gaze on your face. He lowered his face a smidge. Your eyes met his. “I don’t expect you to be perfect. We’re human. We fuck up. We get angry. We disagree. It’s our nature.”

“But there are better options,” you said hoarsely. “Better women—” 

“I don’t want them.” His hands flexed against the door. “I want you.”

You shook your head. 

There were other flaws, you were certain of it, that would deter him. Make him realize he deserved the best this galaxy had to offer. 

You searched the crevasses and chasms of your mind, seeking out the organized list. But you’d already named the worst offenders. Would your preference to go to bed early qualify as a disqualifier? 

“I’m going back home.” You were trembling. “In three years. I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back.”

“I’d like to see the stars.”

“Don’t—” You looked away, swallowing the emotion threatening to release. It churned hot and volatile within you. “Don’t do this. Please.”

“Let me in—”

“You could hurt me.” Your back flattened against the door; your fingers scraped the metal. “You could really hurt me.”

Silence, and then: “Look at me.”

You ground your teeth. 

“Look at me.”

Your eyes lifted to his and, against your will, it happened. A single tear leaked onto your cheek, slowly drifting downwards, leaving an unmistakable trail. 

Quickly, you went to wipe it away. But just as swiftly, Fox grabbed your wrist, pressing it against the door. His eyes wandered along the tear’s trail to its conclusive end at the drop off of your chin, and then returned to yours.

“Let me love you,” he said quietly.

Undeserving.

Unlovable.

Never enough.

Another tear splashed from the corner of your eye. 

“I’m scared,” you whispered.

“I know.” Fox released your wrist and flattened both hands against the door once more. “You’re gonna have to trust me.”

“I don’t know how to.”

“Let me in, and I’ll show you.”

A part of you wanted to close your eyes, press your palms to your ears, curl inwards on yourself until it all disappeared. Fox. The last four months. That damned tiny hand pounding against your ribcage, insistent for him. You wanted to ignore it all. Pretend none of it had happened.

A greater part of you—a part tired of being alone, tired of the hollowness within you—silenced your two closest allies and their lurking whispers.

“I need space.” You felt empty, worn. “I need space to think about…everything.”

Fox surveyed you for a moment, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and then gave a short nod. “I’ll walk you back to your place.”

The first day after your conversation, Commander Thire reappeared for the daily visit. His now-familiar face was a relief. You were grateful for Fox’s consideration.

On the evening of the second day, you slipped into your sequined dress and creamy heels, treated yourself to a private dinner, and then returned to the Museum. You spent four hours perusing levels five, four, and three.

Another three days elapsed without Fox and you went to the transport center, purchasing tickets to Lefaepa for the 1st of Yelona. No matter what happened, you were resolved to return home for the Harvest Festival.

After six days, on the evening of the 20th of Kelona, you retrieved your comm and messaged Fox: 0525.

The code to your apartment building. 

Masterlist | Part III - Part V

A/N: I feel like I owe an explanation.

For an embarrassingly long time in my life, I thought blowjobs were supposed to be rough. I blame it on the media I consumed. Books and fanfic, alike, always portrayed them as a very rough activity. It became ingrained in me. Blowjobs were rough. And you simply had to take it.

I wasn't interested in rough. And I thought that because I lacked that interest, then there was something wrong with me. Eventually, just the thought of sex nauseated me. If a guy showed interest in me, I immediately cut him out because I was scared of the possibility of sex and blowjobs.

It's taken me a lot of years to process and deconstruct this belief. It's something I still struggle with; I find it hard to believe, at times, that there are men who can be content without rough blowjobs. One of the ways I'm trying to "normalize" non-rough sex for me is through writing. It's why I've avoided writing explicit blowjob scenes for my most recent stories, and why there's been an emphasis on my MMCs being gentle when it's been explored. I know that I neglect male pleasure and prioritize female pleasure in my writing; so I wanted to explain why that is.

Also, this is NOT to shame people who enjoy certain types of sex. This is simply for me to see my personal wants/boundaries normalized and represented in fic. Thank you for understanding.

[emblazons]

boy updates (need to start a tag for this lmao)

held hands with and kissed the cheek + got a forehead kiss from of the midwestern boy yesterday after a concert and him like. holding me the whole time + insisting we see each other tomorrow? Also the clear overtures he's repeatedly made of wanting something serious y'all I feel like I've literally stepped into a parallel universe

like. I need you to understand I have not dated in like. nearly four years and now here I am having met a cute man on accident on my birthday in real fucking life not on an app who is saying things like "is this teasing something I'm going to have to put up with for the rest of my life" and being open to plans a month in advance I physically cannot breathe what is HAPPENING

[onyourstageleft]

talked to a middle school media specialist today and I was doing So Good until one of my interview questions for her was "what genres do you read for pleasure" and she started talking about reading YA to stay connected with what her students want/are reading and the words "have you heard of Tamora Pierce" immediately came out of my mouth

[afniel]

Realizing that I went and wrote a bunch of intentionally aro relationships and my partner was like, "Idk, it seemed like normal relationships to me," and I was like, "I mean yeah it's not that different from ours, I guess, I was kind of going for 45° off from 'normal' romance," and they're like, "Okay, but ours is also pretty much like that," and I'm like, "Yeah, true," and now I'm like, damn hold up, are we both some kinda arospec and THIS is how we figure it out? Because I wrote a long-ass fic about intentionally queer-coded (among other things) robots? Life is weird, man.

Like I've been prone to extreme long-term crushes on a very few (mostly unattainable) people over the years, but I wouldn't have known what to do with them even if they worked out, and cough my ex was not even one of them. I just kind of assumed I was failing to feel a thing I was totally supposed to feel, there, and quite a lot of that relationship emotionally was me going, "Okay, I care like This, but I think I'm supposed to care like That? I'm pretty sure he cares That way. I'm not sure I do, but I mean, there's really only one way*, so maybe I'm just misreading this and actually I do care like That, I'm just bad at it."

*This was me being very incorrect, it turns out. There's all kinds of ways to love someone. It's a very inadequate and nonspecific word.

When I confessed my feelings (which I'd been sitting on for a year) to my partner, their reaction wasn't to be particularly romantic about it. In fact they told me they'd help me move to California if I wanted to. And after I got over my initial confusion of being kissed on the forehead (which is also not super romantic as a gesture and I couldn't decide how to even read that so I kinda skipped over even trying for a while), I was thinking, Awesome, that is a yes. They have promised to assist me with difficult stuff, and said nothing at all about emotions, because that's not a big deal anyway. The important thing is that I can rely on them and vice versa. Cool. We are basically together forever now. Which ended up being true. I just never moved out and now it's like 13 years later, go figure. But that's not what I think actually passes for reciprocating feelings for most people? Worked great for me though.

Anyway I feel like I have accidentally learned something about myself, lol. I guess romance is okay I guess, like it's not repulsive, but seriously, it's WAY more satisfying to me to guess someone else's Quiplash answer because you know they know you would think it's fucking funny, and you do, and because you think it's funny and you're well aware they know your type of humor and you know theirs and that you wouldn't expect them to use "cum" as an answer because that's not usually how they roll, so of course that is the only answer they can possibly give, which is instantly evident to both of you with no conversation whatsoever on the topic. When you got just one brain cell and it's quantum entangled with their just one brain cell so you have a lot of null discussions where nobody has to say anything but it's fully understood anyway, that's The Dream, if you ask me. And like I don't really think that's romantic by the usual definition. You can have that with friends and family, too. But that is what it turns out I prioritize in relationships, which I'm starting to feel like isn't what the majority of people are here for?

TFW it's hard to tell because I've been assuming I'm totally alloromantic so everything I experience must be typical totally alloromantic stuff too, but I'm starting to think it isn't maybe? But how do I even tell, this is like being colorblind, lmao.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

one thing i'm really really fascinated by is the fact that everyone in the modern pokemon world seems to consider the deities a power source, nothing more. the games generally imply that knowledge of the legendaries has been lost to time and legend and only preserved by a select few who keep to the Ancient Ways but i don't really think that sounds likely. i think they might be common knowledge people just don't seem to. conceptualize them as greater than in the way that we generally think of them. "this is a divine force that underpins reality and has been worshipped since antiquity" is not a thing that seems to have any problem coexisting with "i'm going to put this thing in an engine and make it my tool." and it's very frequently the baddies doing this which maybe weakens the point a little but very rarely is the point of contention with the bad guys "hey you shouldn't do that to god" that's kind of like, never the part of their thing that people object to. it's always their motives, never their methods. when the Good Guy (local ten year old) catches god and makes it their new partner, nobody has a problem with it! and people joke about this but i'm saying it might imply a way deeper facet of society than people give it credit for.

and is this maybe trying to force the round peg of pokemon legendaries into the square hole of actual religion. very possibly! the games aside from pla certainly seem only very occasionally interested in treating these creatures as gods or godlike or worshipped in any way, and far more often just want to treat them as regular pokemon But Stronger. so it's maybe not reasonable to try and say these entities are deities. but the problem is they are! it's not like this isn't supported textually, it's just... not a part of canon that canon is actually interested in. dialga, palkia, the lake trio, kyogre, groudon—these things are gods. canon can mince words and call them legendaries and "worshipped as deities maybe sometimes" but when you get to the point where you're discussing something that represents a fundamental force governing reality and/or can end the world on a whim then idc what you call it. that's a god.

but the problem is that they are gods and also pokemon, they're both simultaneously. and people in the pokemon world seem to have worked this out, and have had the collective realization that the gods are truly not exempt from their own rules. they can be captured, they can be subjugated, they can be used. this also ties back in with the whole anarchism discussion obviously but it's just the fact that like. it goes way deeper than everyone being fine with the ten year old putting the lord of time in a ball. the entire world operates on the premise of "eat your gods."

does that like... contradict worship? can you be faithful to something knowing it's been used as a tool?

[kris-mage-fics]

So I did cave(as I knew I would, I have very little self-control when it comes to this kind of thing lol) and bought and played through Scarlet Hollow and WOW you were right! I gotta say the weight your choices carry are MUCH more terrifying than anything else (which was a big thing I saw when reading reviews and such but I'm almost like NO THIS IS TOO MUCH RESPONSIBILITY AAAHH😬😬) and the butterfly effect of it all. It is HEAVY and definitely requires a palette cleanser (for me at least) but it was good and of course I'm already drawing elaborate art of my MC about it 😂😂

I glad you liked it and it wasn't too scary! (This is a follow-up to an ask kingdom-dance sent a little while ago.) Yeah, the amount of power the cousin holds is huge! Their choices alone determine SO much, without trying they hold the lives of a lot of people in their hands. And you are right, that weight is a lot more terrifying than the rest of the game! Especially because we haven't even seen all the consequences of most of those choices yet. Like three of my four characters have a worldstate where Duke is dead, and we still don't know what that means for the town. Besides Bo and his mom being without him suddenly, that is. I'm with you on needing a palate cleanser. It is a heavy game, and I really feel the weight of the choices we make. But I still love it to bits, and I'm so glad my friends talked me into playing it! Now I'm really looking forward to seeing a drawing of your cousin! I want to know all about them, like what are their traits, which characters like them and which don't, and what choices they made!

[notjanine]

belonging to this straight woman profession is wild bc i will attend work events with adult women where the main topic of conversation is just. Hehe my husband is just useless he can’t even complete basic household tasks, i didn’t even get to sleep in or relax on Mother’s Day because i had to make the kids breakfast while my husband slept in, i can’t work full time because of the kids and the house OR it’s like i have two full time jobs because i’m working and then come home and have to take care of the kids and the house, my husband just does whatever he wants and i have to clean up the mess while he goes out and has fun. and i just want to shake these people. why do these men treat their wives this way?? why do these women put up with it???? unreal, unreal!!!