#okay drawing this was fun although the background lacks so much ^^'

[officersnickers]

💐🌼🪴☘️🌹🌿🥀🌿🌹☘️🪴🌼💐

Some blessed Isabella and Leslie for my soul (and yours), with both of them being (mostly) well and alive and finally together. Maybe a scene from my Mama!Emma-AU, in which Isabella and Leslie survived and met again, or just any other random good ending AU - whatever you prefer.

[tyrramint]

Happy Lockwood & Co. Big Bang!!! :D I had the absolute pleasure of collaborating with @The_Dreamer_Half_Alive (on Ao3 :) on her fic for the @lockwoodandcobigbang2023 event; set post TEG, it’s truly so lovely and heartwarming, and I had so much fun doing a piece for it! We very much hope you enjoy :)

Link to the fic!!!! (the horror of the night melt away) under the warm glow of survival of the day

(Closeups below the cut :D) (because I ended up making it too wide to be easily seen in full lol) (plus ~artistic commentary~)

(SPOILERS FOR FIC CONTENT)

Okay, so I tried to put a bunch of little easter eggs from the fic and just in general in here, so if you’re interested:

Alright, to start off, I was generally very inspired by them getting a record player; I thought it was very sweet, and I loved the idea of them finally getting to relax and hang out in the library (the lack of chairs, I know; I couldn’t figure out how to put them in without blocking people lol) and locklyle dancing, with the record player on in the background, so that’s what I took as the basis of the scene!!

We had discussed that the characters were kind of a combo of both show and book versions, so I tried to add a smattering and hints of both when doing their designs!

The record is, of course, an Ella Fitzgerald record as mentioned in the fic (the record drawn is her Souvenir Album)

Holly is wearing her engagement ring, and wearing shades of pink and cream because that’s what she wears at her wedding (although shifted in hue to better match the color scheme of the piece lol)

Everyone (minus Flo) of course has their white strands of hair (which is *always* one of my favorite details to draw)

Lucy and George bake in the fic, but I think I had just read the Christmas mini story when I was doing my thumbnail for this, so Kipps ended up being the one bringing in baked goods; however, the baking mitts are orange and monogrammed with George's initials because I couldn't let that slip by, could I?

I wasn't quite sure what to put Flo in, because in the books she never takes off her boots or puffer jacket, but I wanted to throw in some sign that she was living at 35 Portland Row and becoming closer to all of them, (and her close relationship with George,) so I let her keep the boots, but traded the puffer jacket in for one of George's plaid shirts :)

The chess game also made it in because of the Christmas short story, lol

Lucy's blue star jacket!! When I read the fic, I was planning from the start to have her wearing the jacket, so of course it made it in :) I wasn't really sure what style it should be, though, so I ended up with kind of an odd mishmash of designs, but I think it turned out working alright!

The sapphire necklace, because, of course

I adore that Lockwood wears his pink socks throughout the entire show (well, most of the time they're the pink ones ;) so I wanted to include them (and then gave Lucy blue ones to match :)

The chipped blue mugs that Lockwood brings to Lucy for her tea after she wakes up from nightmares are on the bookshelf, and I couldn't find a way to directly include the Earl Grey tea they have, but I made the tea bag tags grey in honor of it

The green glow is the ghost lamp outside because if I can find a way to incorporate cool glows in my art, I will (and also on a more narrative-driven note, symbolizing the past danger they've been through and how some of it is definitely still present, but they have each other to heal with and finally be able to have some simple fun with, and are now curled up in the safety and comfort of 35 Portland Row :)

And finally, a big theme of the fic is them healing and building a happy life together, so I just wanted them to all be happy for once, and hence I put in my best efforts to draw them as such :)

[whetstonefires]

10 and 29 for the ask game?

10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

I try not to have expectations, so I'm sure it's happened a lot and I didn't remark upon it enough to remember.

I do recall that All the Roofs of Uncertainty was originally a one-shot that was much better-liked than I expected, so I wrote into the what-happens-next and changed the original open ending into a whole plotline, that consisted almost entirely of Jason Todd talking to people in a hospital.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

Oh gosh I have so many fics that lie unfinished because the work necessary to complete them exceeded my interest in the premise. I could do this for weeks and not run out. Let's see.

Okay, the funniest fic that I will never ever finish is the one that was me trying to draw up a plausible background scenario for an AU (which I couldn't decide if it ought to be modern or not) where Su She was dating Wei Wuxian.

(This in turn was inspired by the fact that I kept reading modern AUs where various canon villains were cast as wwx's shitty boyfriend or ex and it was never Su She, aka the bargain bin version of Lan Wangji, who seemed to me to be the least improbable option on offer. Like if you feel the need to lampshade repeatedly within your fic that it's incomprehensible that Wei Wuxian would ever voluntarily date Jin Zixun, maybe that's a sign you should change that bit.)

The plot of the story that Su-She-uses-his-words-and-pulls-wwx embedded itself in would have revolved around Lan Wangji subsequently agreeing to a date with ten-years-younger Mo Xuanyu, presumably in an attempt to move on, and Su She picking up on his hopeless pining when both couples happened to be in the same room, as dates to the same function or something, and then following a characteristically self-destructive course where he got so wrapped up in rubbing it in Lan Wangji's face that he finally had something the Lan scion wanted and couldn't get that he wound up entirely destroying his own relationship.

Wei Wuxian is a very good judge of people who also attracts strong personal loyalty once people get attached to him in the first place, and notably something that simply never happens to him is someone betraying him who he trusted not to do that. (Jiang Cheng does not count; Wei Wuxian maneuvered him into most of it, he wasn't taken by surprise.) So it could be really neat to finesse the character work of him understanding Su She's basic character flaws, but not expecting them to manifest or affect him quite the way they end up doing.

In the same way he mostly gets Lan Wangji as a person from the start but, lacking insight into certain things he's hiding, is unable to reliably reconstruct his perspective. To an increasingly noticeable degree, as lwj acts on that aspect of his motivations more openly.

I am never going to write that though, because I just don't care enough about that kind of story, although concept free to a good home.

I did write out a little of the backstory to how Su She could have wound up in a position of wanting to date Wei Wuxian on his own merits, which was a fun bit of character study because Su She is basically Jin Guangyao's Wen Ning, you know? Evil Wen Ning.

His understanding of Jin Guangyao as someone who respects and values him earned an insane amount of personal loyalty from a basically very selfish guy--like sure, it's clear he got a steady stream of favors out of the bargain, but he also puts himself on the line way in excess of the practical value Jin Guangyao has provided and is likely to provide; the real inducement was the validation.

So, if Wei Wuxian had happened to be carelessly kind and supportive to Su She the way he was to Wen Ning, having met him in a weak moment before Su She had had a chance to make an impression as a petty asshole rather than just a bit of a dumbass (not that he actually in canon managed to make any personal impression even by shooting him in the arm) you could probably arrange for him to glom onto Wei Wuxian instead, as someone like him, who didn't get the respect he deserved because of his birth station.

And Wei Wuxian would be perfectly willing to reciprocate that friendship, even though (as with Wen Ning) if Su She didn't reach out promptly he'd have totally forgotten he existed until prompted lmao. Su She would never forgive that insult.

You can see in the passage here where I still kind of wanted it to be a modern AU so they're texting, but the setup I'd written previously worked as a clean canon divergence because that's my usual preference, and I really wasn't interested enough in a plot that's entirely about romantic relationships to figure that out and write the rest.

But I did enjoy doing this study of how Su She could have gotten stuck on Wei Wuxian, only to later go on to fuck himself over with his Lan Wangji complex.

It was nice to have someone to complain to who got it. When Su Minshan talked about having no family to turn to, about owing everything to the Sect that had raised him when, to the Lan, everything came down to the clan and he would never have a chance to truly distinguish himself— Sometimes I think about just leaving, Su Minshan wrote, because Wei Wuxian wouldn’t scold him for being ungrateful. You can, if you want, Wei Wuxian wrote, as if it was that easy. Only if you came too, Su Minshan had written back, shaken by his own daring. Of course, Wei Wuxian refused. Jiang Cheng would never forgive me if I ran off. Because he’s counting on you to run his Sect for him. He absolutely is not. Jiang Cheng will work himself into the ground before he lets me do his job for him. He didn’t admit that of course the Sect Heir was counting on him, but he didn’t disagree, which was basically the same thing. Wei Wuxian worked very hard and was rewarded for it, but Su Minshan knew that even in Jiang the equal opportunity only went so far—he was the Sect Leader’s pet for personal reasons, not just on merit, and even so he could never rise to be the equal of the blood heir. It was infuriating sometimes how that didn’t bother him. Have more ambition! You’re so lucky, Su Minshan wrote, because he was jealous, he was so so jealous. I am! <3 But let’s see, outside the main family how important can a person get in Lan Sect? You can make a plan. Weeks of effort did not produce any particularly good plans. The most realistic one took forty years to show results. Maybe I should just kill Lan Wangji and use a spell to disguise myself and take his place, Su Minshan joked. Haha! Minshan-xiong, I’m sorry, you couldn’t pull off being Lan Zhan. That hurt, an unexpected cold dagger to the ribs. Wei Wuxian was his friend! Why not! he typed angrily. Was his playing too weak, his swordsmanship, his deportment? Would even Wei Wuxian tell him he was just not good enough? Because you could never resist saying something bitchy when you had the chance, and he keeps all the bitching inside his head. Su Minshan put his head down and laughed until he thought he might cry.

I have the sneaking suspicion I already shared this one for one of these games, because it really is by far the funniest thing I'm definitely never going to finish, so I'll reblog this post later with another offering.

[reasonandfaithinharmony]

Weekend WIP Game

Thank you for tagging me, @rmd-writes and @thisbuildinghasfeelings!

I know I am very late to this, but it is still technically the weekend here in the Pacific time zone, so here we go. I'll be using the questions for Artists/GIF makers. (There are also questions for writers in @welcometololaland's original post!)

Rules: List your WIPs below (if you only work on one project at a time, feel free to include future WIPs/ideas!) then answer the following questions. Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs (or more).

1. WIP List:

I am so afraid to see these all written out in a way where I can count them. [deep breath] This is a rather mixed-up list of gif sets for 911 Lone Star, Schitt's Creek, and The X-Files. Also, since they're gif sets, they don't really have titles, just nicknames:

husbands fancy dinner lizard arc kisses quotes of devotion come rain or come shine spin instructors flashbacks yes way meet the parents until i'm okay, too pile of good things best man wedding attire tk stays capable and decent unspectacular things endless act of being loved gravity of hearts simply the best reassuring head kisses he's a jungle cat wedding behind the scenes soft light/tooms/squeeze hope is messy iris/tk arc you are good and i love you

2. Which WIP is your most complex?

Oh gosh. Anything that involves coloring of more than one scene, really. That's what slows me down. And pretty much all of these fall into that category. Which is a big part of why they're not done yet.

3. Do any of your WIPs involve you using a technique/style that you haven't used before? What inspired you to try it?

Um. Possibly? I'm not far enough along to know for sure, but I think a couple of them might involve trying out a new text treatment.

4. Which WIP do you expect will take you the longest?

I am historically a very bad judge of this. Lol. There are plenty of potential obstacles in that list. I'm afraid to jinx it/make things worse by saying anything specific.

5. Which WIP are you finding the most enjoyable to create?

The "lizard arc" set has been very enjoyable to play with. And I suspect that "he's a jungle cat" will be very fun to eventually get back to.

6. Do you have a favourite character to draw/stitch/paint/depict? Are they in many of your WIP projects?

Hmmm. Not really. I mean, I certainly tend to focus on my favorite ships, but I can't really pick a favorite from that group.

7. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

All of them. Because I am self-taught and constantly second guessing absolutely everything.

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of creator's block?

I suppose so. Although It's more lack of energy or just… utter frustration that results in a WIP getting a time out.

9. Do any of your WIPs contain characters outside the main ship? How are you finding creating those?

Yeah, definitely. There are a couple on that list that focus on other relationships.

10. What emotions are you hoping to convey through your WIPs?

It varies. Some are angsty. Some are meant to be funny. But I think, in general, they are all trying to convey love.

11. Are there any features/details you are finding challenging in your WIPs?

[gestures wildly at the lighting teams on every show, thwarting my best efforts to see what's going on]

12. Which WIP has the most complex shading/colouring?

Don't know yet. All of them. Lol. I can tell you that the "fancy dinner" set has been in time out for months now. Because of lighting and coloring.

13. Which WIP has the most complex background?

Not sure this one applies to me.

14. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for?

Oh, I really don't know. My opinions here change all the time.

15. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

I normally do not remember my dreams. But very recently, I dreamt that I had finished one of those sets. I was very disappointed to wake up and realize it wasn't true.

16. Do any of your WIPs have particular complexities that your other art doesn't?

Hmm, I don't think so.

17. Are any of your WIPs commissions?

No, but some of them are friendly requests or things that came about from chatting here on tumblr.

18. Do you have a character that is more difficult to draw/stitch/paint/depict? Are they in many of your WIP projects?

I'm going to go with Patrick Brewer. That boy's face just… goes nuclear bright whenever I try to brighten a scene overall. There are a lot of rather pale characters on that show, but they take pretty well to coloring/brightening. He does not.

19. Tell us one thing we don't know about one or more of your WIPs.

Um. Some items have been on that list for years. They're not abandoned, I promise. I am just not in charge of the creative process.

Since it is barely the weekend for me anymore (and no longer the weekend for many of you), please consider this an open tag!! If you'd like to play along, go for it. Even if the weekend has passed you by.

[oneiricazalea]

Been feeling deeply negative and hopeless with a lot of self-neglect and suicidal ideation since November. Life goes on though, and I don't really want to end a calendar year dooming and glooming entirely; despite everything, I have a little hope for next year, and there is so much i really do want to accomplish. I'm also reminded that it's okay to live for the little things... S o, trying to think of things that were good this year and/or that I accomplished, even if small 🫡

In Hobbies

I learned that my keyboard still works after years of sitting in my closet, so I'm gradually getting back into learning how to play and how to read music sheets. This alongside having bought a kalimba on a whim, and generally being glad that although it's been very slow, I haven't given up just because I'm not immediately good at either. My hope is to feel like I've learned enough to justify getting a guitar to learn with next year.

We most definitely aren't hitting our November-made goal of finishing two books by the end of the year, but my best friend and I did begin reading, and that's the important part. It has been fun trying to get back into reading than just thinking about reading and bemoaning how I haven't really tried since school, and I'm hoping after the four books we got together, I can finally get through The Eye of the World!

Likewise started reading fanfiction again. So many authors I've looked at are so skilled and generally amazing, and I'm reminded of how nice it is to just turn the brain off and read about the same characters in different scenarios again and again, with a different flavor each time from the unique writing styles that are out there. Thinking of starting a sideblog where I can comfortably reblog and cry in the tags about my favorite pieces and series /thinking

My brain still short-circuits when I try to crochet and count my stitches, but I started. Again. Grandma bought a bag containing a bunch of little... sample-sized? yarn for me to play with, so I'm going to do my best to learn it properly this time...! Apparently it's good to have a hobby dealing with one's hands, and drawing is too categorized as 'work' in my head to be good for de-stressing I think, so I'm going to hope for the best with this-

My friend and I finally finished the second 'arc' of our roleplay story- after this story has been rebooted long before we could ever hit that point in the past, it's finally done, and we've come out of it with a lot of new characters we love! I'm excited to move onto the next one, as extremely dramatic as it's going to be from the jump lmfao

In Drawing & Work

My decade-old computer is going to be tentatively retired soon, shortly into the new year. I worked hard to afford the newcomer, a funky little mini PC with 8 more gigs of RAM than i am used to working with, and my dear 2010-something PC has earned a rest. Looking forward to something that will hopefully be able to handle my timelapse recordings and letting me get back into editing together videos...!

^ A little more financial responsibility this year than in all the others to get to that goal. I've actually been really good at saving and not impulsively buying things when sad lately.

My work ethic has been better this year, and the old commission queue has been cut down by a lot. It could always be better, but this is a start and it's been a steadier climb than before. I think the waitlist will finally be cleared in the first quarter of 2024.

I've been more adventurous this latter half of the year with YCHs and background work. It's not always successful, but it has to start somewhere. I think I've been a little better at not feeling so immediately down by a lack of feedback there and on other art pieces too, to a degree.

This year did continue the trend of drawing less even for personal enjoyment... but the things i did manage, I think, were more experimental too. I'm ending this year off feeling ambitious for certain projects in 2024, including getting more into making pixel page dolls and trying to make an OC animatic. I've never really done either, but I'm eager.

For design work, I got to do the weapon design for a vtubing friend; the character + weapon design for their friend, and that design was adapted into a vtuber model by one of my favorite artists! Currently now doing another, related design. I also got to do the Genshin verse clothing design for my best friend's OC. It's been a fun year of designing character things in general, after feeling so iffy on my designing capabilities. I like to think I'm improving.

For personal designs, I'm pulling my teeth with finally solidifying the 37+ characters that need to be finalized for story and splash art type things, but I am still fond of a few of this year's OC works! Sarvazad, even if a lot of elements were adapted from Dottore's design to make them kinda match-y; Seijaku's most recent design cleaning, even if it will be updated again soon; and Sirin finally has an outfit that is a step in the right direction I think—to be edited still, because it is not quite the degree of "character is a dying mage but also uses daggers" that i want, but this is closer than she's been in the last decade.

Gradually getting more comfortable in Clip Studio Paint... I still do all my shading in Sai, but at least for sketching, lining, flats and final adjustments, Clip has been good. I like Perfect Pencil and HiBiSoft. For funsies, my favorite brushes are under categories named after the Harbingers/commedia dell'arte.

Trying to learn how to animate little things. It's unfinished, but there was a fun instance with the Red Flags meme, and now trying to learn Procreate Dreams.

In Games

In January, I finally really got into Genshin Impact after only tentatively trying it now and then since its release, and that's been the hyperfixation of the year for sure. I love what lore I understand; the music is everything to me. Polumnia Omnia and everything from Vortex of Legends are still my favorite tracks. A little AU roleplay was done, and although an OCs-getting-isekai'd-into-Teyvat never took off from planning, it was very fun to imagine different scenes and dynamics playing out!

Played a lot of FFXIV with friends and my brothers off and on, finishing Shadowbringers I think this year and tentatively stepping into the beginning of Endwalker. I still need to continue EW, but I know I felt so much and could not stop thinking about the events of Shadowbringers, and just fawning over my WOLs Theia and Sif in general. Re-experiencing ARR in another playthrough has been fun despite the slower beginnings. I don't think Equilibrium will ever be replaced as my favorite music from the game, but... White Stone Black is spoilers for me, but super enjoyable; I didn't know anything about Don Quixote until then, so I can say I learned something from a lyric analysis. And I loooove Dalnodo's cover of Dedicated to Moonlight ♥

Finally in earnest started playing Monster Hunter World with my brothers and my best friend; many laughs, a lot of learning, and me gradually going even more nearsighted and misreading Radobaan's name had us renaming it to Radobean, affectionately just Bean. And then the new MH was announced, so that was a nice surprise-

Misc.

Socially, it feels like this has been both my most and least social year LOL;; I'm still extremely nervous about talking to people, but I'm trying not to be so harsh on myself in the moment. It feels like... it should be less "God I'm abysmal to talk to" and more "It's okay to be awkward. Just be honest and kind." I want to try reaching out to people more. Trying to find the ability to hold a conversation, but that hopefully just comes with practice.

I finally talked a little about what I would perhaps have at least wanted to do, if I had stuck school out. It turns out 'mortician' and 'embalmer' are in the same field but not the same—not really. Embalmers handle preparing the bodies. I don't know yet if that's what I want to do for sure, if I think it'll be worth the schooling and debt—and it feels supremely ambitious whenever I think of jobs that would require leaving the house after being a shut-in for so long—but I think at least talking about the future for once, when my caregiving work is over, instead of staying clammed up about it has helped somehow.

Before dropping out of high school, my room was also my classroom. I realized earlier this Fall that I actually still hate being in my room all these years later. I think, after a bit of cleaning and rearranging and downsizing on a lot of old belongings, I'm a little more willing to be in there besides just to sleep. Little by little, I think that space is becoming mine again.

There are probably other things, but I can't remember them at the moment—and this list ended up getting longer the more i wrote and remembered anyway. I struggled a lot this year, but I think I did more than I've given myself credit for 😌

I guess I can consider this my year wrapped? Something I can look forward to re-reading at the end of next year, and seeing if I progressed in some ways 🙏

[closedafterdark]

Conflicted

BLΛƆKPIИK Chaeyoung x Male Reader

7929 words

categories: smut, oral, angst

note: special thanks to @sharpfeelings​ for all the help with this.

Read on AFF

“Open up! We know you’re in there!”

Two women look at each other, nodding before the taller of the two kicks the door open.

Drawing their guns, they use the built-in flashlight and search the apartment.

“Bathroom’s clear.”

Bedroom’s clear too.”

Reconvening back in the living room, the two look around at the apartment. Despite it being empty, it was evident someone was living here.

“They’re gone. They probably knew we were coming.”

“Goddamn it! First lead we have in weeks and the prime suspect is already gone.”

“Jooyeon unnie. It’ll be alright.”

Feeling a hand on her shoulder, Son Jooyeon looks to her side and sees Detective Lee Jinsook staring back and giving her a weak yet reassuring smile. Jinsook was sort of an anomaly. Not exactly green enough to be considered a rookie, yet not having been with the squad the necessary amount of time to be classified as a Senior Detective. Graduating from the academy at the minimum age required to do so, Jinsook was assigned to Starship Precinct as a bright, wide-eyed rookie. Having accumulated several years of experience under the guidance of you, Jiyeon and Jooyeon, Jinsook grew to be much more serious. Still maintaining her friendly demeanor when not on the field, she learned to approach situations cautiously and address all possible outcomes when making a decision.

“You’re right.” Jooyeon said, tapping Jinsook’s hand softly and responding with her own soft smile. “It’s just… this is my first assigned case for the Senior Detective promotion. Usually oppa or Jiyeon unnie would be the one leading everything. And with the Captain wanting to promote you and I... I just don’t want to fuck up.”

“Fucking up is a part of learning.” Jinsook began. Jooyeon’s eyes widened slightly, surprised at hearing how casually her partner cursed. “You guys taught me it’s okay to mess up so long as you use it to improve yourself.”

“Since when have you begun giving life advice? Usually it’s the other way around.” Jooyeon teased.

Jinsook pouted at her, giving her the cutest angry glare before heading for the door.

“Hmph!”

Jooyeon softly laughs as she also heads for the door.

“Oh, unnie.”

“Hmm?”

“Jiyeon unnie called the Captain today. She should be returning in a few days.” Jinsook said, turning back as she gave a genuine expression of worry to Jooyeon.

“You haven’t talked to her since the incident, right?”

Jooyeon shook her head, smiling slightly.

“She and I rarely talk to each other anymore.” Jooyeon began, her eyes beginning to glisten. “If anything, she’s closer with the Lieutenant nowadays. I can’t remember the last time Jiyeon unnie and I hungout, just the two of us.”

“Doesn’t help that you slept with her boyfriend, either.”

“H-Hey!” Jooyeon said, softly hitting Jinsook. “She and oppa are on a break.”

“I know you like oppa, unnie. But all three of your relationships will change if you and him get together. You know oppa will prioritize you and unnie’s friendship.”

“I know.” Jooyeon sighed. “It’s just… I really like him. And when we slept together, he made me feel so loved. I just want him.”

“Unnie…” Jinsook said, pulling Jooyeon in for a hug. The two embrace each other for several minutes, Jinsook rubbing the older woman’s bag as she comforts her. When the two let go, Jooyeon wipes away the tears built up. This causes them to laugh slightly and has relaxed her worries.

“Come on unnie, let’s go get some food. Nothing like a tall glass of beer and some spicy barbecue to calm our nerves. Plus, it’ll be fun listening to you talk about oppa while buzzed.” She said, heading for the door. Taking one last look around the empty apartment, Jooyeon is about to leave when something catches the corner of her eye. Kneeling down, she finds a thin piece of slightly durable paper. Black in color, only four words are printed on it in a pink color with a crown emblem.

“How you like that?” Jooyeon read aloud. Taking out her phone, she scrolled through her camera roll and found a photo of the first calling card left behind during the Gangnam Precinct escapes. Contrasting the one she just found, it was a pink background with black font and a square emblem.

“BlackPink in your area…” She said, scrunching her nose. “Just what are they up to?”

You wandered the empty Gangnam streets, surprised at the lack of foot traffic on a random Wednesday afternoon. Not even a full 12 hours have passed since your date and subsequent intimate moment with Son Jooyeon, a colleague you have grown close to ever since she joined the squad, confessing her feelings for you. Not to mention the fact that you and your girlfriend Kim Jiyeon were currently going through a break. Your thoughts are interrupted as you see a woman with long, blonde hair struggle to pick up various congratulatory flower pots. Quickly going to her, you pick up the pot from her arms and bring it inside the shop.

“Oh my, thank you so much!” the woman said, wiping the sweat on her forehead.

“It’s no problem.” you said. “Always happy to help someone in need.” When the two of you make eye contact, you realized she seemed familiar. Stealing a few more glances at her caused you to figure out she was the same woman who helped you choose flowers to bring to Jiyeon at the hospital. It seems she has recognized you as well.

“Oh…” you said to each other.

“Nice to see you again.” the woman said, giving you a smile. Her appearance has changed from the last time you saw her a few days ago. Her long brown hair was now a silky gold color. Her striking makeup was replaced with more natural tones, opting to equip herself with a thin eyeliner and rosy pink lips.

“It’s nice to see you again as well. Didn’t realize I walked all the way over here.” you said, carrying the last of the flower pots inside. As she followed you, she grabbed a spray bottle and tended to the various plants that lined the walls of the boutique. Her side profile caught your attention, as you took notice of her sharp eyes and cute pointed nose.

“So, what brings you by? Did your girlfriend like the flowers you picked out?” She said, returning to the back of the counter to sort through customer’s orders. When she didn’t hear you respond, she turned around and saw the sadness in your eyes. “What happened?”

“She liked the flowers you helped me pick out. But... decided we should take some time apart.” you said, remembering how you accused Jiyeon of being involved in Luda’s case.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry…” she said, sincerity heard in her voice.

“Don’t be, it’s alright. She’s a very emotional person so I understand. We’ve had fights before but I kinda messed things up this time so I’m willing to give her all the space she needs.”

“I’m sure everything will work out between you two.” she said, flashing you her trademark smile. She possessed an elegant vibe to her, a classness you could exactly pinpoint specifically. She spoke in a lower register, which was easily complemented by an exotic accent that made every word sound like honey to you.

“Thank you. I couldn’t help but notice your accent. I guess you aren’t from here?” you asked, wanting to smoothly change topics.

“Ah, yes. I’m actually from Australia. I was actually born in Auckland but moved to Melbourne when I was 7. My parents still live out there and my sister visits me here from time to time. But in my heart, I will always be a Kiwi.” she replied.

“I take it you didn’t move all the way over here just to run a flower shop.” you said.

The woman laughed. “No I didn’t, actually. I came here because I wanted to be a singer. I went to many auditions and went through the training process to debut, but it wasn’t my thing. The extreme dieting, the company pointing out every one of my “flaws”. And the hair dye. God, that stupid fucking hair dye. I had to bleach my hair so many times, my scalp is so dry and my hair is fried.” She picked up strands of her hair to show you how damaged it had become, losing its natural oils. Her hair was slightly frizzy and riddled with split ends.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” you said, unsure of what response would be appropriate.

She shook her head. “You know, despite all of that. I don’t regret any of it. The company I was signed to allowed me to meet some really great people. The final lineup for the group I was in contained myself and three other girls. And although we never got to debut, I’m happy. We went through a lot together, and while we now all live separately, it’s in the same apartment complex so we’re practically neighbors.”

“Sounds like all that trouble was worth it if you made such great friends.”

“It was. Although, sometimes I kinda wished we debuted you know? They were planning on having me be the main vocalist.”

“I’d love to hear you sing sometime.”

“Mmm, that depends.”

“On what?” you said, tilting your head in curiosity.

“I don’t sing for free.” she teased.

“I don’t seem to have any money on me at the moment…” you said, rummaging through your pockets and opening up your wallet.

“I’m just kidding.” she said, laughing. “I don’t need the money. Although, I could never say no to a nice meal.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, miss?” you said, raising your eyebrow slightly.

“What, me? I would never.” she replied, feigning innocence. You noticed her cheeks begin to blush slightly as she coughed cutely and turned away.

“I never said it was a bad thing.” you said, laughing slightly. “But I don’t even know your name. Would be rude of me to not know the name of the person I was going on a date with.”

“I-It’s Roseanne.” she said nervously. “Roseanne Park. But here in Korea, I go by Chaeyoung.”

“Roseanne… that’s a pretty name.” you said. “Any preference on what you like to be called?”

“My friends usually call me Rosie or Chaeng. And I formally go by the name Rosé. But you can call me whatever you like. Just as long as you call me later.” she said, handing you a black business card with pink colored font on it. You observed it, taking note of a rose with the petals designed in the shape of a crown.

“I didn’t expect you to be so smooth. Do you always flirt with customers like this?” you asked.

“No no, I’m not that kind of girl. Well... maybe only to the cute ones.” she said, winking playfully. “Just wanted to share a meal as a thank you for helping me out with those pots my friends sent me. And it seems like you could use someone to talk to.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” you said, waving the business card in the air as thanks before heading for the door.

“I’ll be off in a few hours. Call me then.”

You smiled at her and waved as you left. When you disappear from sight, Chaeyoung returned to tending the flowers inside the shop. She hears the bell chime as the door is opened once more.

“You’re back already? I didn’t expect you to-”

Turning around, Chaeyoung is met by a woman with dark hair slightly taller than her. She quickly bows her head in apology, the woman doing the same.

“I’m so sorry. I had a customer leave just now and thought you were them.”

“It’s alright.” the woman said, smiling.

“What brings you in today, ma’am?” Chaeyoung asked.

The woman fumbles around her pockets before taking something out and opening it up.

“Son Jooyeon, Starship Precinct Senior Detective. I was wondering if you’ve seen anything out of the ordinary recently.”

“No, nothing at all. We’ve been closed the past few days as I was recovering from a bad case of a cold.”

“There’s been a string of high profile robberies lately and we’ve been going to each business asking if they’ve seen any suspicious activity. I apologize for the intrusion.”

“Oh no, it’s perfectly fine. You’re just doing your job. I haven’t been here due to being sick. I even have these terrible tasting capsules I have to consume daily.” Chaeyoung said, holding up a bottle with a disgusted look on her face.

Just then, Jooyeon’s phone began to ring.

“Detective Son speaking. Really… Understood. I’ll be there shortly.”

Hanging up, Jooyeon returned her attention to Chaeyoung. “Sorry about that. Thank you again for your cooperation. Have a good day.”

“Wait, Detective!”

Jooyeon turned around. “If you don’t mind me asking, where did you get that flower?” Chaeyoung pointed to the one currently resting inside her hair.

“Ah, it was given to me by someone very special. Have a good day, ma’am.” Jooyeon said, bowing. As she left, Chaeyoung couldn’t help but think about how familiar that specific flower looked.

It didn’t take very long for several hours to pass. You indeed called Chaeyoung, slightly nervous that you would be viewed as desperate to accept her offer if you did so too early. She told you to give her an extra hour in order to freshen up and prepare for the date, texting you her address and the location of the restaurant you two would be eating at. You decided to take the time to have yourself presentable as well.

Arriving outside what you believed to be was her apartment complex, you were barely able to release a hi as Chaeyoung excitedly told you to start driving. Neither of you spoke during the car ride as she cycled through the various radio stations and recited the lyrics to the various songs she liked. Her sweet voice filled the vehicle with happiness as the two of you drove to the restaurant’s location.

Once you arrived, and earned compliments from Chaeyoung by placing your hand on the passenger side headrest while reversing the vehicle with your left hand, you arrived at the location of your date. The outside of the restaurant looked dated, paint chipping on the walls and windows that have been scratched up. Getting out of the vehicle, you quickly ran to the passenger’s side and opened the door for Chaeyoung.

“Such a gentleman.” she said, accepting your hand to help her out of the car.

Park Chaeyoung wore a very elegant look - black skinny jeans that showed off her long legs and nicely sculpted thighs, a white button up shirt tucked in with a skinny black tie, a heather gray blazer that complimented her outfit nicely even though it was slightly big on her, and a white designer bag that she wore on her body. Her blonde hair that she cursed about was neatly combed, not a singular hair out of place. The black knee high boots she wore were so perfectly fitting, you weren’t sure where they ended and her jeans began. She wore minimal makeup, choosing only to equip herself with pink lipstick. The people who passed by began to silently whisper to each other about how beautiful she looked. Chaeyoung looked ready to have her photo taken on a fashion runway in any minute, not having dinner with a customer she asked out.

“Your finest bottle of red wine, please.” Chaeyoung said as she handed the menu to the waiter. Looking at you, you quickly told the waiter your order and followed suit.

“Isn’t this place a bit too fancy?” you asked, scanning the room.  All the employees wore black ties. You knew this was a fancy restaurant the moment you saw the waiters draping a towel on their arm as they tipped the wine bottle without letting the tip hit the rim of the glass. But what really tipped you off were the prices and the various plates of food arriving. The small portions of food inside such large plates.

“The steak here is amazing. And the lobster is caught fresh everyday.” Chaeyoung said. “Plus, it’s your treat.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you said, coughing after you drank water too quickly while listening to her talk. She looked at you confused.

“You’re the one who asked me out. Shouldn’t the person who does so pay?”

“But you’re the guy. Think about how people would react if I had to pay for the meal.”

“Wow, you really are something Park Chaeyoung. Times really should change. Women are able to pay fully for dates too.” you replied.

“So tell me about yourself.” Chaeyoung said as the food arrived. She cut into her steak delicately, the meat sliced with little pressure from the knife as your eyes are met with a perfectly medium rare center. Taking the piece in her fork, she uses it to wipe the sauce on her plate before putting it into her mouth. Despite the elegant environment, Chaeyoung stuffed her face. You smiled seeing her cute cheeks expand with food as she hums in satisfaction with each bite. And while you still weren’t sure if this was a date or not, you were happy to spend time with a beautiful woman who could eat well.

“What’s there to say… my life is pretty boring. Everyone thinks being a detective means I get to experience dead bodies or intense hostage situations on a daily basis. But really, it’s a lot of paperwork and sitting in front of a computer. I graduated from the academy a bit later than others. Being a beat cop for a year was very boring. During my very first field assignment, I forgot to carry a set of cuffs. I’ve had the same routine for the past four years up until three days ago. For the first time in forever, I have more time to myself than I know what to do with. So, I’m just taking things day by day.”

When you finally finished talking, you saw Chaeyoung staring at you. Her mouth was agape as the piece of steak on her fork was raised midair. You laughed at seeing her in shock. Snapping your fingers, her attention returned to you.

“Was I boring you?” you said, laughing.

“No! No, it’s just... that sounded so cool.” Chaeyoung said, choosing her words carefully. “I wish I had more structure in my life. It feels like I’m finally able to do what I want but don’t know where to begin.”

“Sometimes it’s nice to be free. Live in the moment and let things happen. Too much structure and routine is a hard habit to break.”

Chaeyoung smiles at you as she finishes her glass of wine and flags down the waitress to ask for another bottle. You sighed, your wallet was going to cry by the time the meal was over.

With both of your stomachs full - Chaeyoung’s more than yours, you sat inside your car and relaxed. You almost went into cardiac arrest once the waiter arrived with the final bill, but seeing her beautiful eye smile caused you to shake your head and smile as you gave them your card and signed the check.

At her insistence, the two of you drove to a bubble tea shop. You claimed to be full - an obvious excuse as you didn’t want your wallet to bleed any further. Chaeyoung hit your shoulder as she realized what you meant and told you she would pay. After waiting several minutes, Chaeyoung hears her name being called and picked up her order. Holding onto the tray, she hands you a bubble tea.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“Something sweet as a thank you for paying.” Chaeyoung said as she sipped her bubble tea cutely. You watched her cheeks huff as she closed her eyes in excitement.

While the two of you consume your drinks, you tell her about a story from your rookie days when you overslept and left your house so quickly, you forgot to put on pants. She laughed at every joke, even some that weren’t funny at all. You were thankful, enjoying her company as it provided you a distraction from your current struggles in the romance department.

Your conversation is cut short when the both of you feel droplets hitting you. Looking down, you see the cold sidewalk begin to be pelted with polka dot stains that gradually increase into pouring rain. The customers enjoying their drinks and the nighttime ambience quickly enter the shop, as you look to Chaeyoung and seemingly tell her to head to the car with your eyes. Neither of you carrying an umbrella, you do your best to shield her from the rain with your hands while the two of you run to the car.

The two of you set off aimlessly, the windshield wipers set on the maximum setting as you try your best to make out the road ahead of you. You look to your side and see Chaeyoung visibly nervous. She looks back at you when she feels your hand placed atop hers as you gently squeeze it and give her a warm smile.

“It’s pouring out there. I don’t think we’ll be able to get home. It’s not safe to drive right now.” you said.

“There’s a hotel a few miles from where we’re currently at.” Chaeyoung said, scrolling through her phone.

“You sure that’s okay?”

“It’s either that or we risk our lives in the blinding rain.”

“Fair enough. Just input the address in the navigation system.”

What should have been a 20 minute drive became 40 as the directions sent you off in a route that was longer than needed. Wanting to give up half an hour in, Chaeyoung provided moral support and cheered you on when you took a 5 minute breather. Luckily, there was one open vacancy available when you arrived.

The room was simple yet fairly spacious. One bed, a large desk with a built in television and writing area, a mini fridge fully stocked with overpriced snacks, and a balcony with what normally has a nice view of Seoul’s downtown area. Entering the bathroom, you noticed it fully stocked as well along with two pearly white bathrobes. Grabbing a towel, you freshen up by splashing cold water on your face. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you wondered how you got into this situation. 

You were thankful for a fun day with Chaeyoung, but expected to be relaxing in your own apartment by now, not in a hotel room very late at night. When you exited, you saw Chaeyoung trying to reach for the window curtain wand to give the room more privacy. You laughed softly seeing her struggle and chose to observe her. She tries with all of her might, standing on her tiptoes. Finally getting the wand she turns around and is greeted by you smiling at her. Feeling embarrassed, she turns around quickly before stumbling her footing. Seeing her about to fall, you managed to grab onto her before the two of you landed on the bed. The two of you locked eyes, both of you having neutral expressions. You can hear your heartbeat rapidly increasing as you feel Chaeyoung’s soft breath coming from her nose.

“I should go take a bath…” you said, trying to excuse yourself from the situation. Slowly getting up, you feel yourself pushed back onto the bed as Chaeyoung’s expression has changed. No longer was the shy, innocent woman staring at you. The look you saw in her eyes was one you knew all too well, a look that Jiyeon gave you at work whenever she felt stressed. Lust.

“Stay. I… I want you. Please.” Chaeyoung begged, her accent lacing each word with pure seduction. 

The seriousness of her tone left you far more aroused than you would like to admit. Chaeyoung leaned down and pressed her lips against yours. They had a unique softness to them, feeling like they could melt away from the heat your own were providing. Your breaths began to get heavy as your arms wrapped behind her back and pulled her closer to you. Chaeyoung nibbled on your lower lip, allowing further entry as she pushed her tongue inside your mouth. The two of you fought for control over the other as you helped her out of her coat. Chaeyoung rolled over so that you were on top of her as you both began unbuttoning each other’s shirts. She quickly loosened her tie and threw it into a far off corner of the room.

Both of your tongues and hands explored and searched each other. Your mouths locked together the entire time, with your hands wanting to explore her milky soft skin, slightly annoyed at her cute yet still present clothing being worn. Freeing each other of your shirts, you see Chaeyoung shyly brush as her lacy red bra is exposed to you. Her breasts were on the smaller side, but enough of a handful for you to play with.

Wanting to be back on the bottom, the two of you free each other of your pants until you are both left in your underwear. Chaeyoung’s cute bubble butt complimented her thighs, which were now locked onto your lap. You felt her rub her crotch back and forth against your cloth imprisoned shaft. Running your hands across her smooth thighs, you stop when it is in front of her underwear. You felt the heat radiating from her, Chaeyoung’s perfume hypnotizing you with its intoxicating smell. Grabbing onto her hips, you gently lower her back onto the bed. Your hands move back down, grasping the helm of her sheer laced panties and pull them down. You find, much to your delight, that she is already leaking as it dribbles out of her.

Pulling you back in for a kiss, you reciprocate her earlier action and bite her lower lip while simultaneously sucking on it. Chaeyoung moans as you leave a trail of kisses down her neck and chest, coating her skin and faintest amount of cleavage with your saliva. Your kisses continue as you make sure not to leave out her tummy. Chaeyoung’s moans rapidly increase in volume as you get closer to her thighs. Upon reaching the inner apex of them, you add strong licks and paint her inner creases with your tongue. You lick your lips in satisfaction upon being face to face with her inviting warmth.

You marvel at the sight of her long, milky legs as her soft thighs do little to prevent them from being closed. As her lips glisten from her juices, you watched Chaeyoung gently run her middle finger between her folds until it reaches the bottom. Dragging it slowly upward, she adds her index finger and traces the outline of her lips. She touches herself softly, her erotic moans complemented by her accent. You watched her eyes slowly close as the pleasure began to course through her body. Her breathing becomes hitched, but she manages to regain enough composure to open her eyes and smile seeing you enamoured by the show she is displaying for you. Her voice has become soft, but no less lacking in desire.

“Please… taste me.”

You returned to the previous position you were in when you removed her panties, swiftly removing your boxers and freeing your hard cock. Controlling yourself, you began by planting soft kisses on her thighs. You enjoyed the feeling of her soft, milky skin each time your lips made contact with them. You caressed her legs, taking note of how muscled yet tender her skin was at the same time. Chaeyoung’s body was slim, but her thighs were a sight to behold.

You continued leaving kisses, repeating the process on her other leg until you were finally back where you started - in between her legs. Believing you have given an adequate amount of time for foreplay and teasing, you dive right in. You stick your tongue out to taste the bottom of her slit. Chaeyoung gasps as she feels you make contact with her for the very first time. Her gasps quickly turn into long, satisfied moans as you press your tongue against her lips and give her deep, strong licks.

You wanted to savor every inch of Chaeyoung, a woman you’ve only met twice and were technically still on a date with at the moment. Her drawn out, erotic melody moans keep your attention focused on what is in front of you. Giving her slow licks, you savor the rapidly dampening flesh until you finally suck her clit.

“Oh fuck, that feels so good.”

Chaeyoung runs her fingers through your hair until it rests behind your head. Using both of her hands, you feel her nails digging into your scalp. It is painful, but is well worth it knowing you’re giving her body pleasure. The moans that escape her mouth each time you lick and suck her delicious folds motivates you to continue.

You hold onto her hips as your thumbs gently part her lips even more. The wet flesh feels so soft and inviting. You move your tongue in a wave motion as you give her rapid fast licks. You consumed the nectar leaking out of her, savoring its sweet taste. Getting accustomed to you eating her pussy, Chaeyoung was not prepared when you surprised her by biting her clit.

“Oh… fuck!” she shouted, closing her eyes as her voice was so intense that the pleasure coursed through her body. A bit surprised at how suddenly she came, you are quickly pushed between her legs. Chaeyoung feels the same way as she wraps her legs behind you and pushes your head deeper. Her taste and aroma felt intoxicating, the both of you experiencing a high that could not be replicated by any drug.

Eventually, her body stops violently shaking as her body tense up. She was unable to move her limbs from the pleasure. You were content with yourself, satisfied at your partner’s reaction to your oral skills. You consumed whatever you could, replacing her leaking juices with kisses all over her lower body as you waited for her to recover.

“Fuck… that was… fuck…”

She finally opened her eyes and saw you licking your lips, enjoying the taste of her juices on your tongue. You gave her pussy a deep, long kiss before mirroring your earlier actions and replacing your soft kisses on her tummy earlier. Reaching behind herself, Chaeyoung unhooks her bra and finally frees her chest.

Her eyes were a mix of slight satisfaction and another emotion you couldn’t quite tell. It looked like an unquenchable lust. But it carried a heaviness to it, an appearance of a woman who wanted to be loved.

You climbed back upwards until you were both at eye level, your arms supporting yourself on the bed. Chaeyoung gives you the same sweet smile from earlier at the bubble tea shop that warms your heart as you lower your face to hers and press your own lips against hers. The two of you shared a rather passionate kiss, her arms wrapping around your neck as you feel her legs spread open. She whines softly when you break the kiss, but it quickly becomes a moan as her soft skin is given copious amounts of kisses on her cheeks, neck and upper chest.

Bringing your hand to her right breast, you fondle it as your mouth takes in her left breast. Her nipple begins to harden as you tease it with your tongue. The breast you are fondling is given the same treatment as you gently rub it between your index finger and thumb, pinching it gently. Although they were small, her breasts were inviting. You truly wanted to savor Chaeyoung’s skin, as her long, drawn out sultry moans let you know she was enjoying it as much as you.

Your eyes were on Chaeyoung the entire time. Seeing her head tilt back as the steady stream of moans continued. She looked down and seemed to have read your mind.

“C-Can… Can you fuck me now? Please. Fuck me, please baby.”

As you line your bodies up, you are about to tease her when you feel Chaeyoung grab onto your thighs.

“I… want to be fucked from behind.” she said, her words mere needy whispers.

Giving yourself a few quick strokes, you roll Chaeyoung onto her stomach before pushing yourself forward into her wet pussy. Few feelings could outdo the sensation of entering a woman for the very first time. Despite the many times you’ve done so, it always gave you genuine excitement and satisfaction. Jiyeon and Jooyeon were tight in their own regard, but Chaeyoung made them feel like a hollowed out cave.

Chaeyoung’s body reacted to you being inside her by moving her hips and cute round butt against your cock. Both of you savored the feeling of your hard flesh inside her pussy.

“Oh fuck, baby… Fuck me… Please fuck me…”

Removing your cock from her body, you are delighted to see it glistening in her juices as it appears from between her soft buttcheeks. You withdraw yourself until only the tip of your cock is left inside her before thrusting back inside, your shaft spreading her lips and entering her warm, inviting flesh.

It doesn’t take very long for you to establish a rhythm with which to fuck Chaeyoung from behind with. Having sex with a woman on her hands and knees in front of you was your favorite position - next to a woman being on her knees with your cock in her mouth. And while you’ve had your fair share of women before Jiyeon that you considered to be tight, all of them would be put to shame by Chaeyoung. Unlike sex with Jooyeon, a coworker and close friend, sex with Chaeyoung was quite possibly on par with Jiyeon - an affirmation of a romantic relationship between two people who discovered feelings for each other. While it was still the physical action of sex, it was a way your bodies spoke to each other to confirm your feelings through pleasure.

You felt Chaeyoung’s hips wriggle with each thrust of your own inside her body. Her moans increase in volume while being what you believed, individual in the way you were pleasuring her. The wet, hot feeling of her pussy wrapped around your cock was incredible.

Having used her hips for support, you bring your hands to her ass, firmly squeezing her cheeks with both hands. You were delighted to see them create soft ripples with each collision of your crotch against hers. Chaeyoung gasps in surprise when she feels you give her ass a spank.

“Baby, fuck me… Fuck me harder.” She gasps. Chaeyoung no longer wanted to be fucked by you. She wanted pure pleasure.

You satisfied her desires, giving her hard, deep thrusts as your cock moved in and out of the tight grip of her pussy.

Holy fuck… Yes! Oh yes!” she screamed, throwing her head back as you increased the pace. “Fuck me just like that!”

Through your repeated thrusts, you seemed to have discovered a sweet spot that gives Chaeyoung the most amount of pleasure. It takes you a few tries, but soon your cock is repeatedly hitting that spot as you maintain the same speed and depth of your thrusts. You know it won’t be long until her orgasm arrives, having seen the same signs from Jooyeon and Jiyeon - the ever increasing volume of her moans, the way her fists grasp onto the sheets for support as the pleasure courses throughout her entire body, and of course the way her hot, tight pussy maintains a firm hold on your cock.

“Baby… I’m about to cum! I’m gonna cum so hard!”

“Do it, Chaeyoung. Cum on my cock. Surrender yourself to pleasure and cum for me!”

“Baby… I’m cumming! Oh, fuck!”

Chaeyoung’s body tightens up as the pressure explodes, her pussy clamps down hard on your cock. You wanted to keep thrusting into her hard, but her orgasm has made her pussy far too tight for you to continue. Her cute, small fists form a deadly grip on the bedsheets below as her face sinks down onto the soft cotton pillow. You see her arms give out as her upper body collapses onto the bed.

The sound Chaeyoung made is the same sound you hear when a woman orgasms, an erotic sound that will never be old to you.

Chaeyoung’s second orgasm of the night was even more intense than the first, and as such, takes her several minutes to recover from. You relished at the sight of her body still bent over in front of you, your cock still inside her tight pussy. The light from above gave you a good view of her toned back that was lined with sweat.

“Baby… holy fuck, that was amazing.” she said, panting heavily.

You smiled at her words, giving a gentle squeeze on both of her asscheeks as a response.

“I want you to keep fucking me, baby.”

Drawing your cock out of her body, you watch as Chaeyoung straddles your lap. Thinking she was going to turn around and face you, Chaeyoung shoots down that theory as she strokes your cock before lowering herself onto it. You are given an alluring view of her sweaty back as she starts riding you. Her round ass slams down against your crotch with each movement of her hips. She was slim, but contained a small amount of curves in the right locations as you slap her ass cheek with a flat palm.

Chaeyoung throws her head back and lets out erotic, satisfied moans with each slap on her ass.

“Does Chaeyoung love getting her ass slapped like this?” you asked, knowing full well what her response will be.

“Y-Yes, ah!” Chaeyoung moaned. “Is my p-pussy tight enough for you?”

“I think it could be tighter.” you teased.

“Make me cum again and it will.”

Chaeyoung fucks herself on your cock for a few more minutes before regretfully removing her body from yours. You whined softly at the feeling of no longer being inside her, but it is short-lived as Chaeyoung gets off the bed and gets on her knees. She extends her hands out for yours as you take them and stand in front of her.

Her eyes remained fixed on you, taking her position between your spread legs. You looked down and saw her beautiful face filled with lust.

She takes you inside her mouth, your cock drenched in her juices. She bobs her head quickly, working on your cock as her tongue paints your underside and her hands massage your balls and thighs. Her tongue swirls around the tip of your cock, satisfied at how sensitive your tip is to her touch.

Chaeyoung’s moans send vibrations of pleasure throughout your cock, as you savor the delicious tingles of her mouth around your shaft. Her ultimate goal was to give you the very same pleasure you gave her.

“Chaeyoung… I’m… I’m close.”

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to last much longer in my tight pussy. And while I’m sure you want nothing more than to cum inside me, I want you to watch me swallow your cum.” Chaeyoung said softly as she took your cock back inside her sweet, wet lips.

Her beautiful brown eyes met yours as her lips formed an airtight seal around your cock. Her slim fingers massaging your balls was too much for you to handle.

“I’m cumming…” you say as your orgasm finally arrives. You bobbed her head up and down as quickly as you can before pushing her head all the way down to your base. Your cock throbbed as it releases hot, thick semen into Chaeyoung’s warm and inviting mouth. She manages to push her head back from your hold, opening her mouth to allow you to see your cum shoot into her mouth, painting her tongue and back of her mouth a milky white color. Her eyes crinkle in satisfaction, seeing your face riddled with pleasure.

You were surprised you managed to keep your eyes open the entire time you came. This was the first time you ever saw yourself cumming inside a woman’s mouth. And it was safe to say, it certainly wouldn’t be the last. When you finally finished, you watched Chaeyoung wipe her lips to catch the remaining droplets of cum before closing her mouth and swallowing your load down her throat. She sticks her bright pink tongue out at you with a satisfied hum and laugh, letting you know she enjoyed your tasty treat.

You collapsed back onto the bed, completely exhausted. Chaeyoung climbed on the bed shortly after, licking your cock clean before making her way on top of you. Your foreheads rested against each other, before she cupped your cheeks and gave you a deep, passionate kiss. You opened your eyes and found yourselves staring at each other longingly.

“That was amazing…” you said, mirroring her earlier sentiments.

“You were too, baby. You made me feel like a lovesick girl.” she said, pushing back her damp blonde hair.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” she said. “You really were amazing, though. I’ve never been fucked like that before. That was the most incredible sex I’ve ever had.”

You smiled as she began tracing a finger across your chest.

Chaeyoung gave you even more loving kisses as she feels your cock slowly start to harden underneath her.

“Bad boy…” she said, reaching behind her to grab a hold of your shaft. “Already so hard for me again.”

“What can I say, you know how to make a person want more.” you said, resting your hands on her ass before giving her a firm squeeze. Chaeyoung playfully hits your shoulder in response.

Just as she is spreading her legs and lowering her body back onto yours, your phone suddenly rings. You give each of her asscheeks a slap before gently removing her body off yours.

You grabbed your phone from the desk and quickly headed out to the balcony.

Chaeyoung sits up on the bed and wraps her body in the comforter. At the nightstand next to her, she hears her own phone begin to ring.

“Hello?”

“Mudkip, it’s Hyunjung.”

“Hi, Lieutenant. You know I hate that nickname.” you sighed. “What’s up?”

“I’m not even supposed to be doing this since you’re still suspended, but I cashed in my redemption. Your request has been fulfilled.”

“Really? That’s great news. Thanks so much.”

“Are you sure this person can help us? From my brief conversation with them, they didn’t seem too happy when your name was mentioned.”

“They can… if anyone is going to be able to help us, it’s them.”

“Understood. Be safe, okay? Your suspension ends on Monday.”

“I know. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“You’re welcome. But if you really want to thank me, bring me some bubble tea when you return. Hyunjung loves bubble tea.”

“Hyunjung really does love her bubble tea…” you replied. “Thanks again, I’ll see you Monday.”

“Chaeyoung… is your mission complete?”

“Yes, unnie. I made contact with him and got the digital imprint of his phone like you asked.”

“Good. So… how was he? How big was he? He better not be like that last guy you slept with.”

Chaeyoung sighed. “Yes Jennie unnie, he was big. I don’t know why you have to ask that every time I sleep with a guy.”

Seeing you enter from the balcony, Chaeyoung whispers quietly into the phone. “I’ll call you later.”

“Are you ready for round two?” she asked, ending the call as she turns around and cutely wags her butt at you.

“Chaeyoung…” you said. Noticing the seriousness in your voice, she turned around and faced you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something came up, I have to leave.”

“What, right now? But we were about to start round two, where we get in the shower and fuck me until I can’t stand.”

“I know, and I really want to. But it’s important. You understand, right?”

“I do…” she said, pouting. She smiled weakly as you planted a long, tender kiss on her lips.

“I’ll be back soon.”

As you quickly dress up and leave Chaeyoung by herself, you give her one final wave before exiting the room. Chaeyoung sighs as she stares at a black domino mask and pearl necklace.

“I really like him… but we can never be together. Especially when he finds out who I am.”

The meeting location the Lieutenant gave you was not too far from the hotel. Thankfully, the storm has passed as the smell of rain perfumed the nighttime air. You finally reached your destination 10 minutes later.

Entering it, you scan the cafe until you find the person you were looking for. Approaching them, you see them sipping on a piping hot cup of tea. You timidly sit across from them.

“Thanks for agreeing to see me on such short notice.” you said.

The person doesn’t respond, sipping their cup of tea instead.

“How have… you been?” you continued. You watched as they finally lowered their cup.

“You know she will kill me if she found out I agreed to meet you.”

“What can you tell me about the robbery that happened a few days ago?” you said, your tone becoming serious.

They looked at you intently, before sighing and taking out a case file from their bag.

“Four women. They hit hard and strike like thunder. They wore masks and left no traces of print or hair. They clearly know what they are doing. Stole a couple million in jewels and denominations.”

“What about the security system?”

“Disabled. Along with CCTV. One of them was believed to be disguised as a repairer. They work in pairs. Two act as bait while the other two sneak underground and execute the plan.”

“They’ve never been ID’d?”

The person shook their head. “Nothing in our database at all. Whoever they are, they’re a ghost in the system’s eyes.”

“But…” they said, causing your eyebrow to raise. “I have a hunch on who. Interpol sent these in this morning.”

They handed you another envelope containing four photos. The first three seemed unfamiliar causing you to pay no attention to them. That is - until you reached the last photo.

“Are these legitimate?”

“You know Interpol wouldn’t send us fakes. Why?”

“This person.” you said, holding up the photo.

“She has the second highest bounty. Interpol has a file on her in several other countries, namely Australia and New Zealand.” They noticed your expression changing. “Why?” they repeated.

“I was just with her…” you said. 

“How is she?” you said, changing your tone to let them know you were talking about someone else.  “I heard she’s Captain now.”

“I still don’t know why I’m here. Your Lieutenant told me you were still suspended. I could lose my job for talking to you about work off the clock.”

“You know she and I didn’t end on good terms and that affected a lot of my relationships with people. Especially ours, you and I were best friends.”

“Please…” you continued. “You know I wouldn’t ask you in this way if I had any other choice.”

“I need your help. I need your help, Kim Bora.”

[gingersnapwolves]

The Untamed, a brief summary [Part 1/6]

Okay my friends, I have heard your calls. Here’s my play-by-play version of The Untamed.

Note the first: I’m dividing it up into sections because it is, after all, a 50 episode series and I doubt anyone will want to wade through it all in one go.

Note the second: I am going to try to be as unbiased as possible. There are different ways to interpret some of the characters’ actions, especially later in the show when things get morally complex. You can find oceans of meta on this stuff, so I will try not to pick a side when at all possible. 

Note the third: I’m going to keep the tone pretty light and humorous. This show gets *dark* in the middle but y’all are reading a summary and I don’t want it to get too dry or too depressing. Please pardon me if I am flippant from time to time.

Part One: Sword Wizard School

I thought about doing a character guide but decided it would be easier to introduce you to characters as we meet them, because there are a LOT of characters. However, I am going to give you a brief primer on the important families/places.

Actually, let me back up a little further. The Untamed is a xianxia drama, so it’s about people trying to become immortal celestial beings. They fight monsters and do a lot of magic, and they live in clans/sects. A clan is a family. A sect is a cultivation style/school. The terms are often used interchangeably (even I’m guilty) but they are not exactly the same. Members of a clan will belong to that sect, but the sect will also take in outsiders to train, who are sect members but not clan members.

There are five Great Sects:

Province: Yunmeng; sect: Jiang, home: Lotus Pier

Province: Gusu, sect: Lan, home: Cloud Recesses

Province: Lanling, sect: Jin, home: Koi/Carp Tower

Province: Qinghe, sect: Nie, home: The Unclean Realm (this is not to say it is dirty, it’s from Buddhism and might also translate to ‘The Worldly Realm’)

Province: Qishan, sect: Wen, home: Nightless City/Nevernight (depending on translation) 

Here’s a map I made for my fic reference which shows roughly where these provinces are in relation to each other. I may have pretended they were cities in America so I could calculate mileage. Yes I am the world’s biggest nerd, thanks.

H’okay! The show is not in chronological order but I am going in chronological order because the point is to make this simple for you. I’ll admit that I may not get everything 100% correct because it’s been a while since I watched parts of it but I’ll try.

Setting: Caiyi Town, [Gusu]

ENTER A GREMLIN.

Meet Wei Wuxian. He is a 16 year old chaos gremlin with ADHD. He does not look 16 but actors in American dramas pretending to be teenagers also do not look 16 so we’ll let that go. He is with his adopted brother (also 16ish, but younger than Wei Wuxian) Jiang Cheng, and his adopted older sister, Jiang Yanli (probably about 6 years older).

Oh, right. Names. Most characters have two names, a birth name and a ‘courtesy’ name which is a fancy name they get when they’re old enough to get their swords and stuff. They also have titles. For the sake of not driving y’all crazy, I will choose the most commonly used name for the character and stick with it, and then give you a chart at the end so you’ll understand fanfiction.

Wei Wuxian and his siblings are headed to Sword Wizard School in Gusu, hosted by the Lan sect. Wei Wuxian is clearly planning to Be Himself during these lectures, and Jiang Cheng does Not Approve. Jiang Cheng is obviously very serious and concerned with appearances, which makes sense because he is the sect heir. As an adopted son, Wei Wuxian can goof off; Jiang Cheng does not have that luxury. (Wei Wuxian is the son of two of Jiang Cheng’s father’s friends, who died when he was young. More on this later.) Jiang Cheng reminds Wei Wuxian and the other disciples that are with them that they are representing the Jiang sect and they should make a good impression.

They don’t think they can get to Cloud Recesses before dark so they get rooms at an inn.

ENTER A SNOB.

Jin Zixuan is the next fun character you’ll meet. He’s also 16 or thereabouts despite looking 24 at minimum. He is a sect heir to the Lanling Jin and he does not like being near or interacting with strangers. He pays the innkeeper to rent the whole inn and throw any other guests out. Is this a dick move? I’m trying to be unbiased here, so yes. Yes it is.

Wei Wuxian tries to flirt with a couple of Jin Zixuan’s retainers to get them to allow the Yunmeng siblings to stay, but Jin Zixuan decides to be a big jerk about it. Fun fact! Jin Zixuan is betrothed to Jiang Yanli! He is literally throwing his betrothed out of an inn so he doesn’t have to share a building with people. Wei Wuxian gets pissy and picks a fight with him but Jiang Yanli convinces him that he’s not worth it (although she is much nicer about it than any of us would be in her shoes), and they decide to head up to Cloud Recesses despite the time.

But alas! In their haste, they leave their invitation behind.

ENTER AN ICE PRINCE

As the Yunmeng trio try to talk their way past the gate, Lan Wangji arrives. Also 16, he is your classic stoic, repressed gay, and is the younger brother of the Lan Sect leader. With him are a bunch of Lan cultivators and a guy on a stretcher who is clearly in rough shape. The Lan cultivators carry him inside.

Wei Wuxian, pure of heart and dumb of ass, decides that this is a great time to try to talk his way through the gate, figuring that Lan Wangji, being an important person, can let them in. Lan Wangji reacts about how you would expect a stoic repressed gay would to a cute boy flirting with him for the first time: uses a silencing spell on him, tells him he’s absolutely not admitted without their invitation, and locks them out. 

Jiang Cheng, who has spent the last 3 minutes desperately trying to get his brother to shut up before he gets them all in trouble, sends him back to town to find the invitation.

Int. Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

ENTER A SOFT MAN AND HIS EXTREMELY STARCHED UNCLE

Lan Xichen, the head of the Lan sect and Lan Wangji’s older brother, is studying the guy they brought in, with his uncle. Lan Xichen is young for a sect leader (he’s only 19 in the book but probably 24-25ish in the show) and his uncle advises him a lot of the time. The guy they brought is kind of dead but also kind of not. They say a bunch of stuff you won’t understand if you have not seen xianxia dramas before. It’s not really important.

Ext. Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

RE-ENTER THE GREMLIN

Wei Wuxian has come back with the invitation to find the rest of his sect no longer waiting outside and all of Cloud Recesses sealed by wards. “Wards are made to be broken,” he says, demonstrating a clear lack of understanding of their purpose. It’s a good thing he’s here for school.

He breaks in, carrying a couple jars of liquor, only to find Lan Wangji standing guard. Lan Wangji reprimands him for breaking important Lan sect rules like a) not breaking and entering, b) not coming in after dark, and c) bringing alcohol, which is forbidden. Wei Wuxian offers him one of the jars because he is 16 and stupid and for some reason thought a bribe was what this situation needed. Lan Wangji pulls a sword on him, which is definitely a reasonable response and not because he has his first boner and he’s angry about it.

They have a sword fight, basically to a draw. Lan Wangji drags him in to see Lan Xichen, who clearly thinks this is hilarious. Wei Wuxian blames everything on Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji. He also says intelligent things about the not-a-corpse they’re examining, because the writers wanted us to know that he’s not a whole dumbass. Lan Xichen basically slaps him on the wrist, tells him to behave himself and sends him off to the guest house his siblings were given, and then teases Lan Wangji about Baby’s First Crush.

Ext, Nightless City [Qishan]

ENTER AN OVER THE TOP VILLAIN AND HIS HENCHMEN

Nightless City isn’t actually nightless. It’s just never dark there because it’s on top of a volcano, because that’s where all the cool villains live.

This is the home of the Qishan Wen, who are Obviously Evil from the Black Outfits, Volcano Lair, and Shuffling Zombies. Their leader is Wen Ruohan. His personality is that he is evil. He’s saying a bunch of stuff you won’t understand yet and then sends his Obnoxious Son Wen Chao off to look for something. He also sends Wen Qing, who is related to him somehow, presumably. She asks if she can bring her brother, Wen Ning, and Wen Ruohan says sure because all he cares about is Being Evil in his Zombie Volcano Lair.

Int, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

ENTER A SLACKER and his friend, EVERY RETAIL EMPLOYEE DEALING WITH A KAREN YOU’VE EVER MET. 

They’re all at the first lecture, and there’s a ceremony where each visiting sect presents a gift to Lan Qiren (the uncle/teacher). I think we might see what the Jin give him but I don’t care. Right now we’re talking about Nie Huaisang, the younger brother of the sect leader of the Nie sect. He is baby. He has brought a bird to class for no reason other than that he caught it and thinks it’s cool. Presenting to the dour and stern Lan Qiren makes him nervous.

With him is Meng Yao. Unlike everyone else you’ve met so far, Meng Yao is not a member of the gentry. He is the son of the Jin sect leader and a prostitute. (Yes, this makes him Jin ‘I can’t breathe the same air as commoners’ Zixuan’s younger brother.) When he was old enough to do Sword Magic he went to the Jin sect and asked for admittance, and his father had him thrown down a set of 200 steps because his father is an Enormous Douche. (That’s not biased. Hating this dude is one of the few things everyone agrees on.) Then he went to the Nie sect, and they said, “Sure, you can come in, but you’re not really a disciple, mmkay?” and he said sure. But he has worked his way up to being the assistant to the sect leader which is a pretty important position for someone with his background. 

Naturally, because Meng Yao is Not Like the Others, a few people take this opportunity to gossip and talk smack about him. Meng Yao is upset but tries not to look it. Lan Xichen takes a moment to reassure him, saying that the Nie sect leader had written to him about what a helpful and awesome assistant he had now, and that Meng Yao obviously lived up to it. Meng Yao immediately develops the world’s Most Obvious Crush Don’t @ Me You Would Too.

ENTER MR. OBNOXIOUS, AN IRON MAIDEN, and A PUPPY. Fortunately these are the last characters you’ll meet for a while.

The Wen sect shows up at the gates of Cloud Recesses like ‘what up, I got a big attitude and fuck you’. The gate dude tells them they can’t come in without an invitation, and Wen Chao attacks him because he was raised in a volcano and they go in anyway. With Wen Chao are Wen Qing and her brother, Wen Ning. They are actually pretty awesome, you just don’t know it yet.

Wen Chao busts in on the Saluting Ceremony just as Jiang Cheng is trying to present their gift, and immediately begins insulting everyone there. You should count yourself fortunate that you’re only reading this because Wen Chao is literally the most obnoxious character in this show. Anyway, Wei Wuxian decides to pick a fight with him even though this is *obviously* a stupid thing to do. (I love Wei Wuxian with my whole heart but he is so stupid at 16 lmao.) He calls Wen Chao out on interrupting Jiang Cheng. Wen Chao reacts completely rationally and calmly BAHAHA who am I kidding, he pulls his sword out. Everyone else pulls their swords out. Wen Qing looks like she has the world’s worst migraine.

Lan Xichen takes out his flute and plays eight seconds of music that makes everyone’s swords go flying into the ceiling. Had I mentioned how awesome Lan Xichen is? Because he is Awesome.

Wen Chao gets even more pissy but Wen Qing shuts him down, saying she and her brother are there for Sword Wizard School and she’s sorry her cousin is such an asshole. Lan Xichen tells them to ‘try to come on time’ tomorrow. Had I mentioned how awesome Lan Xichen is? It bears repeating.

Ext, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

Wei Wuxian is making fast friends with Nie Huaisang. They decide to go fishing in one of the streams. He sees Wen Qing sneaking around and asks what she’s doing there. She blows him off.

Meng Yao stops Lan Xichen and says goodbye to him. Lan Xichen asks why he’s leaving so soon, and Meng Yao says that he can’t actually stay for the lectures, since he’s only an assistant to the Nie sect, not a disciple. Lan Xichen tells him that Nie Mingjue (the head of the Nie sect) is just and honorable and will surely reward him for working so hard. They make heart eyes at each other for like a solid thirty seconds before Meng Yao manages to leave.  I’m sorry, I’m trying to be unbiased. They gaze at each other longingly – no, shit, that’s still biased. They, uh, regard each other with mutual respect for thirty solid seconds and then Meng Yao leaves.

Meanwhile Jiang Cheng is Fretting about the fact that Wei Wuxian is Making a Bad Impression. He ain’t seen nothing yet. Jiang Yanli calms him down.

Wen Qing talks to her brother Wen Ning and is sad because he’s sick. She promises him that someday they’ll be able to leave Nightless City.

Int, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

Lan Qiren is lecturing. Wei Wuxian proposes some casual heresy. Lan Qiren gets mad and tells him to copy the Chapter of Conduct a thousand times, and throws him out of class. Jiang Cheng tries to crawl under his desk.

Instead of going to copy lines, Wei Wuxian wanders off and meets A PUPPY, ie Wen Ning. He is practicing his archery. Wei Wuxian proceeds to help him with his stance and Wen Ning looks like he just discovered his bisexuality. Wen Qing sees them together and is clearly not thrilled. Wei Wuxian asks her why she’s always wandering around the back hills of Cloud Recesses and asks if she’s looking for something. She tells him not to be stupid and leaves with her brother.

Lan Wangji drags Wei Wuxian back to the library for his punishment. Wei Wuxian proceeds to spend the next few hours doing Everything That Is Not That, which culminates in him exchanging Lan Wangji’s book for some porn when he’s not looking. Lan Wangji tears the porn up and tells him to piss off.

~romance~

Jiang Cheng: I hope you’re proud of yourself.

Wei Wuxian: I absolutely am.

They go back to their guest house. Wen Qing is there. She’s a doctor! Told you she was awesome. Jiang Yanli wasn’t feeling well and Wen Qing gave her some medicine. They talk about the fact that there aren’t lectures for a few days because Lan Qiren is off doing Official Stuff.

But there’s still fun to be had! There’s a water demon attacking people in the nearby town. Lan Xichen is worried that it’s serious and he’s going to go himself. Lan Wangji goes with him. Wei Wuxian asks if he and Jiang Cheng can go ‘get some practice’ as they fight lots of water demons in Yunmeng. Lan Xichen, remembering his brother’s obvious crush, says sure. Wen Ning wants to go too. So does Wen Qing. Lan Xichen suddenly feels like a chaperone on a field trip but says fine because he’s the cool older brother.

Wei Wuxian takes the opportunity to ask questions about the not-a-corpse from earlier. Lan Xichen politely tells him that’s it handled and not to worry about it. Wei Wuxian thinks there’s something he’s not telling him, and he mentions that to Lan Wangji, who agrees but won’t say so. Wei Wuxian can tell anyway because he’s learning to read Lan Wangji’s microexpressions.

They fight a water demon. Jiang Cheng gets injured and Wen Qing patches him up. He looks at her with puppy eyes. Some dumbass loses his sword in the water. Wen Ning tries to help him despite being uniquely unqualified to do so, and passes out. Wei Wuxian tries to rescue both of them, and Lan Wangji ends up rescuing all three of them despite clearly wanting to let the water demon eat them. Jiang Cheng buys a comb to give to Wen Qing but chickens out and doesn’t give it to her. Wei Wuxian deduces that Wen Ning’s illness is because of a previous bad experience with ghostly spirits or something, and gives Wen Qing a talisman to give to her brother that will help protect him from monsters. He says that no matter what she’s looking for at Cloud Recesses, he hopes the talisman will help Wen Ning.

Then he tries to buy Lan Wangji some fruit as a gift. Lan Wangji refuses to look at him. Lan Xichen starts mentally writing wedding invitations.

Ext. Nightless City [Qishan]

ENTER AN EDGELORD (sorry I forgot about him, in fact I think this happened earlier but the timing isn’t really important)

Meet Xue Yang. You have no idea who he is. Wen Ruohan is demanding he hand over something called yin iron. Xue Yang’s response to this is basically ‘choke me harder, Daddy’ and you’re left feeling vaguely disturbed.

Int. Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

It’s party time! Wei Wuxian smuggled some liquor back with him. He, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang get drunk. They give Jiang Cheng a hard time about his high standards for women.

Lan Wangji comes in like the hall monitor you hated in high school to break it up. Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang run away. Wei Wuxian uses a talisman on Lan Wangji to keep him from reporting them and make him take a drink of the alcohol. We all remind ourselves very firmly that he is only 16 and will do stupid shit, despite wanting to slap him. Lan Wangji has never had alcohol before and one drink makes him blackout drunk. Wei Wuxian has to babysit him for the rest of the night. Serves him right.

The next day, they’re all in trouble, even Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian tries to tell Lan Qiren that it’s not Lan Wangji’s fault, but Lan Wangji accepts his punishment anyway. They get hit with a stick a bunch of times.

Lan Wangji goes to recuperate in the cold springs. Lan Xichen, the world’s biggest troll, sends Wei Wuxian to do the same. Lan Wangji nearly has an aneurysm when Wei Wuxian tries to start taking his clothes off.

ENTER THE PLOT

They get pulled underwater and end up in a cave. It’s a magic cave where only members of the Lan clan are allowed to be. To keep the cave from killing him, Lan Wangji wraps his Magic Forehead Ribbon around Wei Wuxian’s wrist. This is the same magic forehead ribbon he told Wei Wuxian ten episode minutes ago that only parents, spouses, and children are allowed to touch. Draw what conclusions you will.

There’s a ghostly lady in the cave who is Lan Wangji’s ancestor. She tells them Evil Is Abroad. A long time ago a dude named Xue Chonghai took a bunch of pieces of metal and filled them full of evil energy. Everyone banded together and killed him, but the metal couldn’t be completely destroyed, so it was split into ‘the cardinal directions’ and then sealed and hidden. Ah ha! This is what Wen Ruohan is looking for! It’s called Evil MacGuffin yin iron.

Wei Wuxian says if it’s so powerful, why don’t they use it to fight back? Ghost lady says she tried that but it’s too evil and it doesn’t work. She gives them the piece that was sealed in the cave and tells them to go fight evil together. Lan Wangji is glad it’s too cold to have a boner.

Except then she throws them out of the cave and onto dry land and Wei Wuxian lands on top of him and he definitely gets one from that. Sorry, Lan Wangji, I don’t make the rules.

They’ve been missing for two days and everyone is really upset, especially Jiang Cheng, who thinks Wei Wuxian was just goofing off.

Lan Xichen takes the piece of yin iron they got in the cave and seals it in a pouch. They discuss the fact that Wen Ruohan is clearly collecting the pieces of yin iron and this is Bad News Bears. The yin iron will respond to other pieces of yin iron so they decide they should use the piece they have to locate the other pieces.

But first, classes are over! Despite the fact that each of these events has led seamlessly into the next and it seems like they’ve been there a week, they’ve actually been there six months. If you dealt with the Teen Wolf ‘timeline’ I assume you can deal with that lmao.

There’s a lantern-lighting ceremony to celebrate. Wei Wuxian paints a rabbit on his lantern because there were a bunch of rabbits in the cave and Lan Wangji clearly likes rabbits. This makes Lan Wangji smile for the first time. They all light their lanterns and make a wish.

Wei Wuxian wishes he can stand with justice and live without regrets. Lan Wangji looks at him like he’s about to propose. Wen Qing wishes she could protect her little brother and that he’ll always be safe. Jiang Cheng looks at her like he’s about to propose. Nie Huaisang wishes he can pass his classes and get the hell out of high school. Truly, the most relatable.

But the moment is ruined because people start teasing Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli, asking why they didn’t light a lantern together and wish for a happy marriage. Jin Zixuan, the paragon of reacting reasonably to things, storms off. He tells his sect members he doesn’t want to hear about the marriage and they should stop bringing it up. Wei Wuxian overhears and they get into a fight. Jiang Yanli manages to get Wei Wuxian to back off.

The next day, Wei Wuxian is being punished for punching a jerk in the face. He is kneeling on the rocks of the courtyard. But he’s already gotten distracted because there’s an anthill and he has ADHD. Lan Wangji calls him ‘unteachable’ and stomps off, clearly mad at his boner like usual.

Because this is kind of important, the two sect leaders have showed up to hash it out. Jiang Yanli’s dad says ‘listen, if your son doesn’t want to marry my daughter, we shouldn’t force him’. Jin Zixuan’s dad says, ‘kids are stupid and they don’t know what they want’. Jiang Yanli’s dad says, ‘well I absolutely agree your son is stupid but he’s being a jerk to my daughter so why don’t we politely call this off before something happens that makes one of us impolitely call it off’, and Jin Zixuan’s dad agrees. Jiang Yanli is upset, although why she actually wanted to marry Jin Zixuan is beyond everyone involved, including the audience. Then again it can’t be easy to hear that some dude who has barely even met you has decided you’re not good enough for him.

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian sees Lan Xichen telling Lan Wangji ‘be careful’ and correctly deduces that Lan Wangji is leaving with the yin iron to try to find the other pieces, while Lan Xichen stays behind to protect Cloud Recesses since the Wen sect thinks it’s still there. He leaves a note that says ‘gone monster hunting, meet you back at home!’ Jiang Cheng nearly has an aneurysm, especially when his dad is like ‘lmao that kid is such a dumbass’.

~end Sword Wizard School~

okay, guys, what did you think? was this helpful? could you follow it? was it at least vaguely entertaining? should I keep going?

[thosewickedlovelies]

AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: Pasteles de Gloria (part 3)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: T for mature themes (mentions of sex and violence)

Summary: Javier thanks you...appropriately, this time. Connie and Javier have a chat <3

Tags: Mention of blood. Reader starts to have Thots (same, girl)

Word count: 3,740

A/N: So their POVs in this chapter overlap a little bit...sorry if that throws anyone off, I’m still getting used to writing reader insert fics. The dessert and the Spanish are explained at the end :) Enjoy!

Masterlist

--

You hadn’t seen Javier in over a week. The first few days after that conversation had been a whirlwind of emotions- worry over whether you’d said the right things, hope that he might feel the same (plus fear that he wouldn’t), and eventually anger at his total lack of response. Until Connie told you that he and Steve had been sent on some mission.

“Nothing dangerous, but they’ll be gone for a few days. Javi must not have gotten the chance to say goodbye.” Uttered without a second’s hesitation, like it was unthinkable that Javier wouldn’t have explained himself to you if he could.

Maybe Connie knew something you didn’t.

So another several days had passed, with worry becoming the dominant theme; all your other initial feelings faded into the background as you wondered how ‘not dangerous’ DEA work could really be.

You’re settling in for another restless evening when there’s a rap on the door. Your nerves leap and jangle- you aren’t supposed to being seeing Connie again until tomorrow, so who…?

You peer through the cracked door before wrenching it open the rest of the way, your heart roaring in your ears. Javier Peña stands before you. He holds a bottle in one hand and a paper bag in the other, and looks uncharacteristically nervous. You forget you’re theoretically supposed to be upset with him as you stare at each other, wide-eyed.

He clears his throat. “Hey. Uh, sorry I disappeared on you. Boss sent me and Steve on a mission, I had to leave from work.” So Connie had been right on both accounts. He hadn’t had time to call you, and he would have if he could.

When you wait, he continues. “I thought, since I interrupted your evening the last time I was here, I could make it up to you.” He holds up the bottle, which you’re surprised to recall is indeed the same wine that you had opened the night he came to your place after reopening his wound.

You look at him in wonder, but he’s not finished. “Also, well...I can’t bake for shit, but I know somewhere that can. You ever had a pastel de gloria?”  He lifts the paper bag, cracks a small, still-nervous grin.

“I haven’t,” you confirm, an answering smile growing on your face, touched by the sweetness of his gesture and the implications it holds.

“Well, you can try them tonight, because-” his confidence apparently bolstered by your response, he holds the bottle out to you, brow quirking in request. You take it, bemused at the prospect of there still being more to his plan, and he digs something out of his back pocket with an air of presentation. “-I found the sequel to a certain movie while at a market recently. I was going to bring it to Steve and Connie’s but...now seemed like a better time to watch it.”

You almost laugh out loud as you take in the cover of the tape in his hand. It’s the sequel to that movie night travesty, all right. That Javier would do all of this...you hardly know what to say.

You hope whatever expression is on your face is saying it for you, though, as you look up at him. “Thank you, Javier. This is...amazing.” And it is, much more so than would have been necessary to thank you for helping with his leg, or to make up for his unplanned disappearance after you turned down his proposition.

He chuckles, looking down in embarrassment. “You don’t actually have to watch this shit movie if you don’t want to. That part was just a joke.” You could swear he’s blushing, the faintest tinge of color in his cheeks beneath the white hallway lights. “But you should try these pastries, because they are something else.” He offers you the bag, his body shifting sideways slightly, as if he intends to hand off his gifts and then disappear. As if his wide, guileless, puppy dog eyes and the unconscious pout to his lips weren’t begging otherwise.

Well. “Of course I want to watch this shit movie, Javi. As long as you watch it with me.” You give him a teasing grin. “It was much more fun with a spoilsport.”

Relief spills over his features, washing the tension from his shoulders and the breath from his lungs. Turning away toward the kitchen, you miss the true extent of it, leaving the door open for him as you head back inside. “Bring those to the couch, I’ll get us some plates,” you call over your shoulder.

Javier follows more slowly, collecting himself. By the time you join him in the living room, carrying, plates, wine glasses, and napkins, he’s fiddling with your VCR. You pour the wine while he sets it up, although you find yourself distracted by the shifting valleys of muscle in his back beneath his tight-fitting shirt, the bottle in your hands suspended uselessly above a glass. You curse as you almost spill.

“Everything okay?” Javi joins you on the couch, a careful, hesitant distance away.

“Of course!” You’re quick to assure him. “Now, tell me about these pastries,” you urge, eyes sparkling. He unloads them onto a plate, stacking rounded pastries into a rough pyramid, each one golden brown, sprinkled with sugar, and the size of a small fist. His voice softens as he tells you about the bakery and the older woman who runs it, who insists everyone call her ‘abuela’, even grown men and gringos like him. How he discovered it entirely by accident one day, following his nose.

“The filling is usually pasta de guayaba- guava paste- but they can also have arequipe, or cheese, or all three. She gave me a some extras, so I’m not sure which ones are which here,” he says, suddenly brusque. He gestures for you to take one first, a look on his face you can’t quite identify.

You’re definitely at risk of drooling as you pick up a pastel, Javier watching you intently. Puff pastry flakes over your plate as you take a bite.

And close your eyes in relish. A trio of flavors oozes over your tongue, each complementing the other, all of them ensconced in a sheath of sugary, flakey pastry. The creamy, neutral tang of the cheese mellowing the tart-sweet burst of fruity guava, both flavors coated in the thick, sticky-sweet burnt sugar taste of dulce de leche.

Swallowing, your eyes pop wide to look at Javier again. It’s a near-physical reaction he has to your sudden attention, an almost-flinch away from it as he awaits your verdict.

“Javier.” Your voice is serious. With slow deliberance, you lean toward him intently, reaching out to rest your hand on his forearm. You let the anticipation s t r e t c h.

“You have got to tell me how to make these.”

The breath leaves him in a rush, a huff of relief and and laughter at your dramatics. He’s hyper-aware of your hand on his skin- the casual touch reverberates through him in a way he should probably be more concerned about. It’s the first time you’ve touched him for non-medical reasons, but it heals him all the same; he feels warm, something inside him yielding in your presence.

He clears his throat. “Like I said, I can’t bake for shit. But...I can ask the abuela.” His free hand rubs at his neck, slipping beneath the collar of his shirt. The movement draws your attention, and your gaze continues lower, to the two buttons he seems to perpetually leave undone. The smooth, flushed skin beneath. Was it warm in here?

You stand abruptly. “Is it warm in here? I’ll flip the fan on. You want to press play?” You throw him a quick smile as you cross the room to the wall switch. You flip off the overhead light while you’re there, leaving just the tall floor lamp casting a bright but cozy glow.

Javi obliges, the space dimming briefly as the opening sequence begins. You plop back down on the sofa, deliberately settling slightly closer to him- friends distance away. Handing him a wine glass, you raise yours expectantly. “¡Salud!” you beam.

Despite your cheer, you feel a trickle of nervous anticipation. What shape would your relationship take with only the two of you to guide it? You’d never been alone alone together for the express purpose of just hanging out.

Javier clinks his glass with yours. “Salud,” he murmurs, his eyes crinkling upward slightly.

You order yourself to stop getting in your head. Humming around a mouthful of plum-purple wine, you set down the glass in favor of your plate, loading it with several more pastels. Blissful satisfaction fills you as a second bite confirms their perfection, and you lick sugar off your lips with a happy sigh. Beside you, Javi’s empty fingers twitch. He takes a large gulp of wine.

The movie rapidly proves to be of the same ‘quality’ as its parent. Just as quickly, you realize you didn’t need to worry about getting on with Javier. You end up having great fun at the film’s expense, frequently pausing it so Javi can explain in more detail why this or that would never happen in real life. It’s fascinating hearing him speak with such confidence, observing the minute ripples of his face as it contorts in thought. Despite his superior knowledge, he’s never condescending toward you, listening patiently to your questions and trying to answer in ways you can relate to. He sneers freely at the characters onscreen though, and you can completely picture him sitting at a one of those government conference tables, telling some poor bastard how bad his ideas are with his trademark dismissive, deadpan attitude.

There are other fascinating things about him, too. Like the way his short shirtsleeves to stretch over his arm muscles, subtle but visible, highlighted by the room’s long shadows. Like the tempting cords of his neck when he tips his head back to drink. Like more of his self-conscious glances, when he bites into a pastel and crumbs and sugar cling to his mustache. He hurriedly swipes his palm down the hairs, but you’ve caught him from the corner of your eye. You press your lips together to smother a giggle, but when he glides his tongue over his lip to catch any stray bits, your smile fades as your stomach swoops. You can sense him regarding you again as you fix your gaze on the tv. You wish you knew what was going on in his head.

Too soon the movie ends. The credits roll, but Javier shows no signs of leaving, leisurely taking out a pack of cigarettes and tapping it against his hand. “Do you mind?” he checks.

You wrinkle your nose but allow it. “As long as you do it at the window.” You stand, leaving Javi still seated, and spread your arms in a stretch, attempting to blink away some of the sleepy wine haze. “Be right back,” you tell him, taking the opportunity for a bathroom break.

After, however, before crossing the kitchen to rejoin him, you pause on the threshold of the hall. Your head tilts as you run your gaze over his unguarded stature. Javier leans against the window’s edge, his head and torso turned to exhale smoke out into the night. It doesn’t all escape immediately, gray twisting in the air around his profile, and you lose yourself in the brooding picture he paints. He believes he’s alone, but doesn’t look like he’s enjoying a peaceful smoke break- more like he’s weighed down by his thoughts, his eyes sweeping over the street without taking it in. Doesn’t he have anyone to share his burdens with?

You shuffle your feet loudly before you turn the corner, revealing your presence so he can react accordingly. As you approach, he stubs out his cigarette on the narrow sill and turns to face you, his shoulders relaxing.

“I thought of something else about that last scene,” he greets, and you’re happy to let him go on about the film, savoring the rich timbre of his voice. You talk for a little while longer, lounging by the window. He asks you more about yourself now, and you haltingly tell him about your background, how you came to arrive in Columbia. He drinks in every word, and you get the feeling he’s storing this all away, ready to reference later. As if he intends for there to be a later.

Finally it comes up. Your last interaction. “Look, I’m sorry about last time,” Javier begins. “When I, you know-” he nods jerkily in lieu of saying “tried to seduce you” out loud. “I, uh. I don’t know what I was thinking.” His gaze drops the same way it did when he was withholding how he got the cut on his leg.

You thought you had understood some of his thought process, but maybe there was more to it. “I think you do,” you disagree wryly. One shoulder lifts in a shrug. “But it’s okay, Javier. I just...didn’t want you to sleep with me just because you felt like you owed me.”

It’s a struggle to hold his gaze, yours ranging over his face and chest, searching for a reaction to what you’ve left unspoken. That you may well want him to sleep with you, but only because he actually wants to, wants you, specifically. Javier is smart, and clearly experienced with women- there’s no way he’ll miss the implication.

The longer you hold his gaze, the more clearly you see his thoughts churning, turning over everything that’s occurred between you and what it might mean, with all the analytical precision his career requires. That’s who you’ve been seeing, you realize, every time his provocative persona misses its mark with you- Agent Peña, the man who puts up a shield of derisive disdain so no one gets too close, so no one wants to. Until someone comes along who says fuck that, for whatever reasons of their own- like Steve, who demanded that Javi let him in as much as he could stand to because they’re partners, damn it, for better or for worse. Like Connie, who informed him that your well-being is important to my husband’s, so by god, you’re going to let me care about you. Like you- his neighbor and wallmate who, despite being faced with Agent Peña's rakish side, could see that there was more under the surface than just blood oozing from a knife wound.

As if realizing the window this moment is giving you, Javier shakes himself free of it, pushing off the wall. “Well, I won’t keep you up any longer,” he says gruffly. “Thanks for...this.” He gestures to the coffee table behind the couch you’re leaning on, the silent tv static jittering on the wine and pastries.

You stand too, unhurried. “Thank you, Javier. For the company, as well,” you say with sincerity.

He nods, seeming torn, perpetually caught in some internal struggle around you. Finally, he says a single word in farewell, his voice a low caress: “Vecinita.”

He starts for the door without waiting for a reply. Blinking in surprise, you spin in place. “Buenas noches, Javi,” you call, hoping your understanding reaches him.

You think it does, because he pauses for a second with his hand on the doorknob; before, with a last glance, exiting, leaving the hope kindling in your chest as the only proof it really happened.

--

Javier has a hard time focusing at work the next day. He and Steve have a lot of paperwork to get through, mostly material from their recent mission, but every time he shifts in his shitty desk chair he remembers how comfortable your couch was. How at ease you seemed sitting next to him on it. How badly he wanted to reach out to you, see if you felt as soft as you looked in that setting.

“Fuck,” he swears. The paper in his hand is the same one he’s been staring at for the past ten minutes.

Huffing, he shoves his work aside, snatches up his jacket, and heads home early. But his apartment offers even fewer distractions, so with a growl of frustration, he downs a whiskey and stalks back to the door.

Only to be stopped in his tracks by Connie, standing on his stoop with a coffee pot in hand. She looks startled by his sudden appearance, her fist still raised to knock.

“Hi, Javi. I heard you get back a little while ago, and I haven’t seen you since you and Steve returned. I thought we could catch up.” She speaks tentatively, clearly wary of his black scowl and riled energy.

“Did she send you?” he asks, eyes narrowing, jutting his chin to indicate your door.

Connie frowns in confusion. “No, I won’t be seeing her for a a day or three. She’s got an intensive-care patient at the hospital who needs around-the-clock attention.” Her own eyes narrow. “Should she have sent me? Did you do something?”

“No,” Javier retorts curtly. “Just- didn’t know if this was brought on by some of your gossip, is all.” Resigned to his interrogation, he steps back, opening the door for her.

Connie continues to glare suspiciously as she passes, but heads into his kitchen nonetheless, getting out sugar and mugs in a familiar ritual. She knew better than to bother checking the fridge for milk.

Once seated in the dining room, however, she doesn’t pry any further about you, or what he may have done, only continuing a previous line of conversation from their last chat. It helps, but as she gets caught up telling some work story, Javier’s attention drifts again.

He inhales from the cigarette between his fingers, remembering the taste of the one last night, filtering through the flavors of cherry-dark wine and sugar-encrusted pastry. He had tried to keep some figurative distance between the two of you, but you didn’t seem to want it, closing the gaps with questions, always looking so damn interested when the answers pertained to him or his life. Were you that fascinated by all your ‘friends’?

Javi doesn’t notice that Connie is scrutinizing him again, just like he hadn’t noticed that she’s been silent for the past minute.

“What’s she doing up there?” Connie asks loudly.

Javier chokes mid-drag, and a wicked smirk overtakes her face.

“What,” he croaks, trying desperately not to look guilty.

“Your neighbor,” Connie clarifies. “That’s what you’re thinking about, right?” She looks far too smug with herself.

“Hah,” Javier scoffs, trying to ignore the shivery goosebumps at someone calling you ‘his’. Buying time, he takes another long drag, letting it numb the sting from his cough.

Sometimes he wondered why he let himself get sucked into these coffee chats. They so rarely seemed to go well for him.

“Come on, Javier,” Connie coaxes. “I know there’s something between you two. Do you wanna talk about it?” A genuine offer, not just merciless teasing. She’s managed to wipe most of the mirth from her face, leaving a sympathetic expression behind.

He rubs his thumb along his mustache as he sighs a long stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know what’s between us,” he finally says. “I’m not- I don’t do relationships.”

He isn’t sure he remembers how to. Nothing about his life here is suited to them- it’s intense, harsh, dangerous. Not to mention his network of CIs, who he pays for sex as well as information.

“Why not?” Connie asks simply.

A glance at her face tells Javier that it’s a serious question. He snorts. Lounging back in his chair, he raises a contemptuous eyebrow at her. “You can’t honestly tell me the DEA lifestyle is helping your marriage.”

Her face tightens, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he resolutely pushes it away- Connie knows who he is, she asked for this conversation- “My marriage isn’t up for discussion here,” she says evenly. “And besides, don’t you think that’s something for her to decide? She knows what you do, she sees you almost every day. She told me she was helping you with something- do you think she’d let herself get close to you if she was scared of your ‘lifestyle’?”

He doesn’t let it show how deeply her word affects him; but like ink dropping into water, he feels a ripple of shock. The change of color as his thoughts cloud, churn with sudden optimism. Because Connie was right, you had helped him- with a fucking secret stab wound, for christ’s sake. You’d already seen the blood and the secrets, understood that his life came with risks- and helped him without further explanation.

Javier brings the cigarette to his lips again without tasting it, unseeing gaze fixed ahead. Possible though it is that you’re not put off by the danger which hounds him, it still doesn’t mean you want to be more than friends. That was what you’d said, right? ‘Friends are a thing people have.’

But there was also what you hadn’t said last night. That- as long as it was for reasons other than feeling like he owed you- he was allowed to want to sleep with you.

Suddenly he slumps forward onto his elbows, sighing. The wrinkles on his forehead ache as he smooths his thumb over them. “I don’t know how close she wants to get,” Javi mumbles. He might be experienced at sex with women, but forming conections based on what was beneath the skin...well, not only was he rusty, but it required a frankly terrifying amount of vulnerability that he wasn’t sure he was up for.

Connie softens. “Listen, Javi, I saw the way she was looking at you during movie night. She’s interested in you, no matter how much you think she does or doesn’t know. Just- see what happens, or…ask her.” With her last words she shrugs matter-of-factly, content to drop the subject now that she’s delivered her thoughts.

His lips twist, the only begrudging acknowledgement he gives as he reflects on this. He picks up his mug and swirls the dregs of the coffee his friend had poured for him- black, like he usually takes it. He takes a sip.

For the first time, he thinks it could use a little sugar.

--

A/N: Get it, because he needs some of READER’S sugar AYOOOO...I’ll leave now lmao.

Spanish note for the less linguistically inclined: ‘Vecinita’ is the word ‘Vecina’ (Neighbor) plus the suffix ‘-ita’, which is attached to words as a way of describing them as ‘small’. So literally translated it says ‘little (feminine) neighbor’, but! This suffix is also used to say things in an affectionate way, so you could put it on the end of someone’s name (ie Pedrito <3), or on the end of another noun to indicate a nickname. (Disclaimer, I only speak Italian, but it has this same concept, so I think I did it right. Someone pls tell me if I did not). It’s used very casually, so it’s not really as deep as it sounded in Reader and Javi’s moment, but it was deep for Javi okay!!!

The dessert this chapter is named after translates to ‘Gloria pastries’, which according to Google, is a popular Columbian pastry. I have not actually ever encountered one of these personally, but I’ve had all the ingredients individually, so I cannot imagine them not being DELICIOUS all together. Here is a recipe I fully intend to try (it uses mozzarella cheese, but other sources say you can use any plain/white/farmer’s cheese). Guava paste is a really yummy, thick puree (think jam, but thick enough to stay in slab form at room temp) of guava fruit (obvs), which I’ve used in recipes before! I found it in a regular Weis market in central Pennsylvania lmao so I would guess it to be a thing you can find across the US. Arequipe is just another name for dulce de leche. I gotta get me and my sweet tooth to Columbia!!

Fic Taglist: @din-damn-djarin, @thirstworldproblemss, @remembertoreadthese

[fantasy-anatomy-analyst]

Wing Analysis

Maleficent 2014

Alright. I never watched the sequel, but I did very much enjoy watching Maleficent, I think it did a pretty good job of subverting some common fantasy tropes and doing the found family thing.

But oh boy the wings. I do have some issues with those.

(Description: a still image from the Maleficent movie of Maleficent standing on a rock in a gloomy forest with her wings spread on either side of her.)

Now, they are not horrible wings. The feather structure is actually pretty great, although I think the secondary flight feathers could be rounder and I think they left too many gaps between the ends of her feathers. These are minor problems though.

The real issues I have are those weird claws and the fact that they are terribly inconsistent about their color, size, and shape. Sometimes they’re such a warm brown they could be golden eagle wings, other times (even ignoring the perfectly acceptable lighting changes that affect colors) the feathers are all black. So are they black or brown? And are they super narrow or are they very broad? They seem to change shape based purely on the aesthetic need of the moment. I mean she is a magical being and part of the fae so I guess it can be excused as weird fae magic and so can the other issues I have, but that’s a silly excuse.

I also have issues with the way they move relative to her body but I will save that for my longer rant about animated winged people in general.

(Description: a simplified sketch of the first image, color coding the feather sections on her wings and drawing in where the wing bones could be. Various notes on the image point out things I mentioned in the previous paragraph.)

Also the wings are flatly posed while her body is turned a little and they just don’t match up. Wings should be included in body language and this movie follows the annoying trend of winged people being posed with their wings flatly held out behind them. Fold those things! Turn them with the body! You think it looks cool but it’s just a winged version of the T-pose.

And concerning the claws. It is really clear they only gave her wing claws for the draconic silhouette, having the claws curve towards her head and creating this circular frame of the upper wing edge around her face. Visually it does look neat. Having the wings up in this dramatic T-pose with the feathers flared, the wing edges and the big claws making that circular frame to draw attention to the face. Yeah, from a purely compositional point of view it looks good.

But it looks kinda bad from the point of view of a person who knows how wings work. The circular frame of the wings just makes them look oddly stiff and tense, and the claws do not work. They would have to require the wing hand bones to have an extra bit that juts out backwards over the wrist. Not even bats hold their thumbs like that all the time (especially since it doesn’t appear to have its own joint, it’s just a claw that sticks out funny) I also of course am bothered by the lack of a tail but that's kind of a Me thing. (Give winged people tails, cowards)

So I made a couple different options to fix these wings, keeping them feathery but also still including a claw because my problem is not that she has clawed wings, just that the claws they gave her are poorly placed.

(Description: the screenshot of Maleficent standing on a rock in the gloomy forest, but it’s divided in half with the original wing on the right and an altered wing on the left. The altered wing reverses the direction of her wing claw and adds a second claw a little further down on the wing edge, where the tip of the bones would be. I also added the edge of a feathery tail sticking out from behind her.)

This first alteration is based on baby hoatzins! Did you know we have a bird in our modern world that is born with clawed wings? The actual claws fall off later when they no longer need them for clinging to branches, but it’s still very cool! Just like their ancestral dinosaur relatives such as velociraptors. The claws on a hoatzin or older dinosaurs are basically a thumb and forefinger, they point down the edge of the wing. It is very possible to draw birdlike wings AND add a cool looking claw without sacrificing a more realistic wing structure.

(Description: same as above, but now the left side showing an altered wing has a totally redrawn wing that looks like a blend between a bat wing and a bird wing. The wing membrane sticks out from beneath the feathers surrounding the wing arm. The edge of a much longer tail is poking out from behind Maleficent.)

Want feathers and also a draconic silhouette? Well why just put a claw on a bird wing? Especially on a fae from some mysterious ancient ancestry? Have some fun with it! There is a real prehistoric creature we call the Yi Qi that is speculatued to have had both feathers and a wing membrane! That is super cool! So here I have drawn a yi qi style wing on Maleficent, with the implied longer tail to attach the wing membrane that also still has feathers on it. Unlike a bat, there are only four wing fingers here. Thumb, forefinger, and second finger all pretty close together, with the second finger being very long to give the wing its size. But then there is also another finger that goes straight down across from the thumb. I put the feathers along the entire top of the wing edge, but they could be done in a few different ways probably. Personally I like this one best because it’s unique and has a more mystical look to it.

(Description: colored drawings of Maleficent in my own style, showing off the two different redesigned wings in different poses so the tails are more visible. I also added a little more color like some purples in the feathers. In one of the poses she is holding a raven.)

Okay these drawings are a bit darkly colored on a dark background I apologize lol. I think they should have made her feathers more iridescent, like black with a purple sheen. Much more interesting and magical looking. So anyway, there is my own ideas on redesigning Maleficent's movie wings to give them more realistic claws.

[voiceless-terror]

‘Tis the Season

Characters: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker/Sasha James

Summary: 

The Archives Polycule celebrates the holidays. Featuring Disaster Jon, Hot Baker Martin, and Master Decorators Tim and Sasha.

“It’s a little crooked on the left side. You should fix that.”

After one too many of these comments, Jon was banished back inside.

If Tim had just let him on the ladder, it would be straight. It would be perfect. Jon was the one who suggested putting the lights up around the outside door of their flat (and secured permission to do so), he should’ve at least been involved in the execution. But Tim immediately vetoed the idea with a laugh. “You don’t have a great history with heights, boss. And you’ve always been a bit wobbly.” Jon took offense to that.

So he’d been stuck on the ground, pointing out every flaw in Tim’s attempt. He wanted to get everything right. None of them were religious, but it was their first holiday together and there was something very romantic about the season. At least, according to Martin. And if it put a smile on his face, Jon was willing to do it. He wasn’t immune to a little Christmas cheer himself, as much as he grumbled about it. 

Tim, however, was not listening to his advice. “You should go inside, you’re shivering,” he grunted as he attempted to string the lights further out of reach. Jon shook his head, determined to see this through to the end.

“I’m fine, it’s not that bad.”

“I was just being nice,” Tim replied, heaving a sigh as he looked over his work. He gazed down at Jon, looking irritated but fond. “You’re being a little pest. Go inside and help Martin with the cookies.” Jon shot him an offended look, but did as he was told. It was rather cold outside.

And Martin was very, very warm. It was always nice spending time with him in these domestic sort of ways, but Jon was an absolute mess in the kitchen. Martin was standing over the counter, flour on his apron and just a bit on his cheek. He shot him a dubious look as he entered, eyes going soft as he watched Jon shiver and taking his hands in his own to warm them up. Martin had big hands, soft but slightly calloused. Jon was embarrassed to admit it, but he liked the way they covered his own, smaller ones. It made him feel protected. Safe.

“Think you can handle mixing?”

“Of course.”

He could not. It wasn’t his fault he lacked coordination. 

After about five minutes cleaning up the mess he’d made on the counter (“And the sink, and the floor, how is that even possible, Jon?”) he’d been relegated to making little dough balls and setting them on the pan. That was easy enough. Tasty, too. Until he was caught. 

“Stop eating that!” His hand was batted away, sending one of the little balls of dough flying. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.” Jon grumbled, picking up the dough from where it landed on the ground. 

“It is if you eat three of them.”

It was four, actually. But what Martin didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

One more mishap involving a hot pan, a napkin, and a fretting Martin, and he was sent to help Sasha decorate the tree. That was something he could do, easily. He had a nice eye for those sorts of things. 

Sasha disagreed.

“The garland’s crooked, Jon. Put it up a little higher.”

“I can’t reach there.”

“You have to put the heavy ornaments on the heavy branches. Else they’ll break.”

“It’s fine- oh. Sorry.”

“Look, just do the handmade ones, okay? They’re ugly and somehow indestructible.”

“I made that one!”

And that was why he was now sitting on the sofa, cocooned in a fluffy blanket with a cup of hot cocoa and a few cookies to ‘keep his hands busy,’ according to Martin. This was not an ideal situation- he was supposed to be helping them, not lazing about.

“I’m not doing anything, Sasha. What’s the point of decorating if we aren’t all involved?”

“Sorry, love. You’re just a bit of a mess, that’s all,” she attempted to look apologetic as she turned from her admittedly beautiful handiwork with the tree. “Just sit there and look pretty. Relax.”

“You are doing something,” Tim called from the doorway, where he was currently wiping his boots on a doormat. “You’re our Elf on a Shelf. Grouch on a Couch. Every flat needs one.”

He did feel quite cozy. And it was relaxing, as loathed as he was to admit it. The smell of cookies in the oven, the soft, cheery music in the background. Martin, Tim, Sasha. It was perfect. Maybe Martin wasn’t the only one who needed this. 

“I’m thinking we should bring the ol’ Research traditions to the Archives,” Tim said, settling in beside him, Jon instinctively leaning into his side. “Give Martin the true holiday experience.”

Sasha barked out a laugh. “You just want to bring back the mistletoe.”

“You caught me, Sash. Maybe Secret Santa too-”

“That doesn’t work when we’ve all already bought presents for each other,” Jon argued. His first year, someone had drawn his name and didn’t bother to get him anything, though they still attended the year-end party and exchange. It was very embarrassing, and just a little bit saddening (another thing he won’t admit). Every year since, Sasha and Tim managed to draw his name, even as the department got bigger. A happy coincidence.

“Still could be fun,” Martin was leaning against the kitchen door frame, looking so good in that apron it was almost unfair. “Didn’t you used to dress up as Santa, Tim?”

“Um, it was actually ‘Old Holiday Present Man’ I’ll have you know. But in case you were wondering- yes, people did sit in my lap and tell me what gifts they wanted. What was it you wished for, Jon?”

“The same I did every year,” Jon rolled his eyes, his facing burning at the memory.  “To never face such public embarrassment again.”

The others snickered. “And yet-”

“Every year, wasn’t it?”

“-you sat on my lap.”

“Shut up,” Jon muttered. “You made me.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say.” Jon wanted to make a rebuttal but he was just so warm, so content. The lights in the tree twinkled in his blurry vision and he had to fight back a yawn. The radio had turned to one of the old Christmas hymns, the type he’d always preferred to sing along too. He couldn’t summon the energy to do it, however, so instead he just hummed along.

“You have such a nice voice,” Sasha commented, as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. “You could be our little radio.”

Jon let out a soft snort. “I’m bigger than a radio, Sasha.”

“Hm, maybe.”

He let his eyes slip shut, curling his legs up on the couch and leaning further into Tim’s side. A little nap wouldn’t hurt. But Tim nudged him up, ignoring his grunt of protest.

“Can’t go to sleep on me now. You’ve got the most important job of all!” He opened his eyes to find Sasha waving the tree topper in front of his face, an obnoxiously bright gold star. Jon sighed, though he didn’t fight the smile on his face as he took it out of her hands.

“Well I’m going to need a chair, first of all-”

“Who needs a chair when you have a Martin?” Tim proclaimed. And as easy as that, he was unceremoniously scooped up under his arms and led over to the tree in a strong grip, his startled sounds of protest ignored. 

“Go on then, put it up.”

“Don’t drop it,” Sasha added unhelpfully. “It was quite expensive.”

“I won’t,” Jon sniped, although his hands were shaking slightly as he reached out to place it on the top of the tree and adjust it as needed.  The three let out an only slightly condescending cheer, which Jon ignored. “There. Happy? Now you can put me down.” He wasn’t so much put down as he was placed back in Tim’s arms, Sasha and Martin joining in on the too-small couch. As stupid and cheesy as it sounded, he took a small amount of pride in being able to accomplish something without messing it up- it felt nice. That is, until Tim’s next words.

“Think it’s a little crooked.”

Martin put a preemptive hand on Jon’s back, as if to stop him from rearing up to argue. “Shush, Tim. It’s fine.”

“I’ll fix it later.”

“Don’t you dare.”

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28014597

[zombeaniie]

━ • ✿ Day 4. Hurt/Comfort

I’ve had this prompt in mind for a while :’0  Originally it was going to be a comic but I realized, I couldn’t really get what I had in my head into drawing form! So I landed up writing a lil mini-fic under the cut and I have to say it was fun to approach it in a way I normally wouldn’t ? 

To say Miles Edgeworth wasn't fond of the unexpected was an understatement, to say the least. Especially when unexpected events happened when his guard was down, say for example if he was sleeping. More precisely an earthquake happening in the middle of the night forcibly waking him up. With trembling so fierce, Miles can't collect his thoughts. Not that he would be able to even if the circumstances were different. Earthquakes were a kind of touchy subject: brought back memories that'd never really leave his side. The lack of control and overall ability of helplessness was overwhelming. It’s worse now that he doesn't have anyone to walk him through it nor does he have the cover of daylight to provide a semblance of everything being okay. 

Although it feels selfish to suggest that someone had to comfort him. It wasn’t at all mandatory, and really more of a luxury than anything. After all, it’s not like he couldn’t handle this situation on his own. He’d done it plenty of times, so it really shouldn’t come as such a shock. It’s probably so much more bothersome because its the middle of the night and he’s a busy man. It isn’t often he’s able to get a proper night’s rest.

He should feel safe.

The quake is over, his belongings are left intact. There’s no evidence that a quake had even happened in the first place, but there’s still an air of uneasiness. It’s pointless to be fretting, about when the next quake will happen and his overall lack of preparedness if it escalates. Whats more pointless is the way he clings onto his pillow for dear life as if it could possibly save him from the dangers he couldn’t even pinpoint. Even if he wanted to think about something else, the thoughts of the quake drag him back in, and he realizes he’s in for a restless night.

As luck would have it, his phone starts buzzing. Maybe it’s been buzzing for a while, he’s not sure when the noise becomes so persistent. He doesn’t question who would be calling so late at night, or why they’d be calling. He finds himself propping himself up, pillow carefully tucked in between his arms.

"Edgeworth, sir! You finally answered!" The voice on the other end exclaimed with the faintest thank goodness. "Real sorry for calling so late, I just assumed you might have been shaken up," he babbled unaware of his unintentionally made pun. "Y'know I almost slept past it all? Thought it was some kinda construction work but then I realized it’d be weird to do it during this hour," he babbled on.

“Detective, get to the point, please,” The prosecutor snapped, cringing at how harshly the words came out. He didn’t intend for them to come out that way, and he should be showing his appreciation that Gumshoe bothered to call him. 

“Right, sorry sir!” Gumshoe responded sounding sheepish, Edgeworth can imagine the detective rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Well, I know that you’re not too fond of ‘quakes and between you and me your sleeping schedules kinda bad. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay or offer my help if you needed it.”

“Well, I’m alive,” Edgeworth notes rather foolishly. Of course, he’s alive, or else he wouldn’t be able to have this conversation.

“True, but it’s not the same as being okay,” Gumshoe pointed out, his voice becoming more distant, and if Edgeworth focused hard enough, he could faintly hear shuffling in the background. “I can come over and keep you company, I don’t mind-” 

“NO!” It’s abrupt and far more forceful then Edgeworth intended, “I..I’d rather you just..talk to me until I can fall asleep if that’s alright? Your voice has rather soothing qualities,” Edgeworth notes pausing for a moment trying to gauge the situation. Not that he really could over the phone. He just hopes the request doesn’t come off as strange, and he certainly doesn’t want to consider Gumshoe coming over and possibly being caught in a quake on his way. It’s irrational, certainly, but it helps to know that Gumshoe is home, and safe. “If you’d like, you could come over later. I don’t want you to go through all this trouble in the middle of the night.”

“That sounds alright with me! If you change your mind, don’t be a stranger okay?” The detective insisted, not waiting for a response from Edgeworth. “Okay, hopefully, you’re in a comfy position!”

“Yes detective, I think I’ll be quite alright,” Edgeworth assured the other, finally allowing himself to rest on his bed. His shoulders relax, and he can feel his breathing steady. Suddenly, it isn’t so hard to imagine falling asleep.

“Good! Anything you want me to talk about?” 

“That new band you were going off about the other day? Something something Wizards?” Edgeworth draws a blank to the name of the band, just recalls vaguely that their songs had some story behind them about a wizard in training and his dragon companion? 

“Oh! You remembered them,” Gumshoe sounds bashful and Edgeworth can’t help but chuckle just the tiniest bit. It takes a moment for Gumshoe to start again, maybe deciding where to start off from. “Ah well, they just came out with a new song! It was really touching, you see cause the wizard’s a bit doubtful of himself. At least that’s what I gathered, but this song was about the dragon telling the wizard that he was talented, just not in the way that was expected which I thought was really sweet.” 

“I don’t see how that would be touching,” Edgeworth mumbles lightly. 

“See, the dragon’s just not the best at expressing himself. He comes off as really cold and aloof? So a lot of people just think he’s downright mean? It hasn’t gone into why he’s like that, but I bet he’s got a solid reason for being wary of people. Anyway, it means a lot to the wizard because he’s honored that the dragon would go out of his way for him like that?” Gumshoe elaborated excitedly. “I just think its neat to see the way they believe in each other and show that in different ways!”

“It certainly sounds engaging,” Edgeworth answered with a yawn. “Definitely! I dunno if you’d like their sound very much, but I get you’d be into the story! I can compile those for you,” Gumshoe offered. “I’d like that,” Edgeworth’s voice faint as he finally lets sleep overcome him. 

“Sleep tight sir,” Gumshoe whispered, hanging up the phone and settling into bed himself.

[iam93percentstardust]

Sense of Memory and Desire

So @ad1thi and I were talking yesterday about this post and, well, I’d say my hand slipped but honestly, I’ve wanted to write this for a while.

Rated M

No powers AU//featuring Tony and Steve approximately the same age//also featuring Andrew Garfield as Peter Parker:

Gucci calls Tony first. 

They’re doing an ad campaign, they say. For a perfume inspired by alphas and omegas, they say. They want him to be the omega, they say. Tony knows how these perfume ads work. They’re meant to be sensual, hinting this could be you with a strong alpha or a sweet omega on your arm. They usually come off as oversexualized, almost tacky, instead. But they describe it to him and it sounds tasteful. They tell him who the photographer is and Tony’s knows him only by reputation but also knows that as an omega, he will make it sensual and not tacky.

Tony says, “Sure. Why not?”

And that’s when they spring the big one on him: they want him on the verge of heat, no more than a couple hours away, for the extra sparkle to his eyes, the youthful glow to his skin, the aura every in-heat omega exudes that says come here.

He could probably say no. But he doesn’t, too intrigued by the thought of how the ad will turn out. Instead, he asks, “Who’s the alpha?”

They name him a model. Tony’s worked with him before, even slept with him once back in college. He likes the guy well enough. For an alpha and a model, he’s surprisingly down to earth. If it were any other ad, or at any other time for that matter, he would be perfectly okay with it. But he’ll be close to his heat. That makes things different.

“You need to ask Steve,” he tells them.

They dither.

“Steve,” he says flatly, “or I’m walking.”

They agree.

~

The thing is, Steve is almost never possessive. 

Tony met the man who would one day become his alpha at a benefit Stark Industries was throwing to support and honor veterans. Steve had been a captain in the army—although Tony suspects he was a special sort of captain, judging by the deference often demonstrated towards him. They had met and talked most of the night; Tony had been smitten by the time they finally parted. He’d left Steve with a phone number and a plea to call though he’d fully been anticipating that someone like Steve would want little to do with someone like Tony.

Steve surprises him though by calling him when he’d walked literally two steps away. Tony had turned, a little in awe that Steve was that eager. They ended up going out for burgers that same night and then finally back to Tony’s penthouse where Steve had placed a hand on his lower back, drawn him in, and kissed him sweetly before taking his place on the couch.

It had been like that for months, fun dates and sweet kisses, incredible conversations that kept Tony wanting more, wanting to burrow into Steve’s life and never leave. The lack of sex had worried him though until Steve told him he was waiting for Tony’s heat, an old-fashioned, charming idea that left him melting like chocolate in the sun. 

And Steve had been sweet and wonderful and not at all possessive—until the week leading up to Tony’s heat, when he’d turned jealous and growly and eventually, Tony had locked them both in his penthouse. Steve had apologized for it once, after Tony’s heat had broken, when he’d still been tied to his alpha. Tony had kissed the apology from his lips, rolled his hips up into Steve’s knot, and wailed when Steve flipped them back over to drive his knot deeper into Tony’s willing body.

Steve is just like that before Tony’s heat and Tony loves him for it. No one else has ever wanted him enough to treat him like he was something to be treasured, something to be guarded jealously and kept away from the world.

Letting another alpha touch him, Tony staring up at him with the same adoration he reserves for Steve, ranks at the top of the list of bad ideas.

~

Happy ends up being the one to drive them to the photoshoot. Gucci had been willing to send a car, had even been discussing it with Tony over the phone when Steve had ripped the phone out of Tony’s hands and growled, “No,” into it. And that had been that. Tony doesn’t blame him. He knows how many pheromones he’s putting out right now. Steve had once described his scent as oranges and chocolate, an intoxicating scent at the best of times but when it’s as dialed up as it is before heat…

Well, this isn’t the Dark Ages. Tony doesn’t need to worry about being jumped by rabid alphas but he does turn heads everywhere he goes. Steve doesn’t like that.

They pull up to the studio a couple hours before the shoot for hair and makeup. Steve offers a hand to help Tony get out of the car. It’s something that Tony doesn’t usually like but he adores being pampered in the days leading up to his heat so he takes it and lets Steve lead him into the building. 

The photographer greets them in the lobby, right by the front door. “Peter Parker,” he says, holding his hand out first to Tony and then to Steve to shake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers. Right this way.”

They walk down the hallway, Parker chatting the entire way. As they near the studio entrance, Parker’s steps slow. “I’m really sorry about this,” he says apologetically. “Gucci insisted we bring in the other model just in case Captain Rogers doesn’t work out.” He sounds sincere, which is why Tony stops Steve from moving forward. Parker eyes the two of them, at Tony wearing Steve’s oversized clothes so he’s practically swimming in his alpha’s scent, at the fire in Steve’s eyes at the very thought of another alpha seeing his omega like this, and grins. “I didn’t think we would need him so I sent him to a different shoot in the building.”

“What are you sorry for then?” Steve rumbles. Tony shivers. He loves it when Steve sounds like this. It makes him want to wrap himself in Steve.

Parker pauses with one hand on the doorknob. “He made it into the studio before we could stop him so the room might smell a little like him. But he was the only alpha on set, I swear. I don’t like it when other alphas besides my mate are near me when I’m in heat and he really doesn’t like it so I made sure to hire only betas and omegas.”

“Thank you,” Tony says quietly, appreciating the courtesy. Parker nods reassuringly at him and opens the door. 

There is the slightest hint of another alpha in the room but it’s almost entirely overpowered by the omega staff members. Even so, Steve growls under his breath, only stopping when Tony puts a hand on his arm.

“Just focus on me,” Tony murmurs. “My scent is the only one that matters.” And as he gets closer to his heat starting, his scent will start to overshadow everyone else.

Steve is led away by a couple makeup artists. As he goes, he turns his head so that he can see Tony, keeping his eyes locked on him until Tony eventually has to follow Parker to his own team.

Parker flits off to set up the camera and the lights, leaving Tony in his team’s very capable hands. They start by making him take off his shirt. Tony whines a little, not wanting to lose his alpha’s scent, but they let him keep the pants so he settles. 

“They’re hot,” one of them says, eyeing the way they ride low on his hips. “You wearing your alpha’s pants and all. Peter might even want a couple pictures like that.”

The other one hums her agreement but doesn’t look up from the eyeshadow she’s applying to Tony’s eyes. It’s something dark and a little glittery and he would probably feel ridiculous if it hadn’t been for the dark background he can see behind Parker. The eyeshadow will probably look fantastic against that. She moves on to the eyeliner, drawing a skillful wing shape that leaves Tony marveling at her steady hand. He’s got a steady hand as well, kind of has to as an engineer, but he’s pretty sure he couldn’t pull off what she’s doing. She finishes with a coat of mascara and then moves on to lipstick, a deep red shade that makes Tony feel silly until he looks up at where Steve’s sitting and sees the way they’re highlighting the five o’clock shadow he’s got.

Steve’s eyes are dark and hooded as he looks back at Tony, promising filthy things as soon as they get home. Tony clenches his thighs together and whimpers. He wants his alpha now. Why had he ever thought this was a good idea?

“Ooh yeah,” the makeup artist says. “If I had an alpha looking like that looking at me like that, I’d be getting wet too.”

Tony doesn’t blush but only because he reminds himself that he’s an omega with years of experience behind him. He wears that experience incredibly well for someone nearing middle age—money talks when he’s hiring personal trainers—but he still has too much experience to be blushing about a lewd comment.

“You two ready?” Parker calls and Tony stands, walking over to join him. 

Steve catches up to him about halfway across the room, wrapping his arm around Tony’s waist and pulling him into his side. Steve is shirtless as well, radiating body heat and making Tony luxuriate in the skin contact. 

“You look good,” he murmurs. Tony throws him a questioning look. Steve always thinks he looks good but there’s something about the way he says it that’s different. “When we get home, I’ll show you exactly how much I like it.”

Tony hides another whimper.

Parker is grinning at them when they join him. “Save it for the camera, guys,” he tells them but doesn’t seem too put-out by their flirting.

He gestures at the backdrop behind him. It’s a dark grey piece that’ll probably look black after post-production but likely photographs better than a pure black piece would. There’s a small set of steps that Parker ushers them over to.

“I really want to emphasize the size difference here so we’re going to start with Steve on the top step and Tony on the bottom.” He waits until they’re standing in place before he starts making adjustments. “Tony, move a little bit closer. Steve, I want your hand on his lower back. Tony, can we try you wrapping your back hand around Steve’s neck?”

He snaps a couple shots and then shakes his head. “Actually, lower that hand again.” Another couple pictures. “Look up at him for me, Tony. Tilt a little towards him, Steve. He should practically be supported by you. You’re the only thing holding him up.” Steve moves so that their chests are almost entirely pressed together, parting just a few inches on the side closest to the camera. “Yeah, that’s perfect. I want to get a natural feel for the two of you so feel free to talk, move your heads maybe a little bit but don’t actually move from those spots, ‘kay?”

Steve lowers his head so that his lips are brushing Tony’s ear as he mutters, “I saw what’s under those pants you’re wearing. Are you trying to kill me?”

Tony smirks. “Not at all. Just teasing a little, you know how it is.”

“Is that what you want, sweetheart? Want to tease me?”

Looking up the way he is, Tony can see the heat in Steve’s eyes. He shivers and presses closer to Steve’s chest, craving the touch. His heat will be starting soon. He can feel it creeping up on him, his hole starting to slick up and loosen.

“Maybe I’ll take you home, tie you up, tease you for hours. How does that sound?” Steve taunts. Underneath that, Tony can hear the shutter clicking away but he can’t concentrate on anything but the words Steve is whispering in his ear. “Shove a vibrator inside your pretty hole and let you scream. Bet I could make you come at least twice just from that. Maybe I’ll even draw it for you so you can see how pretty you look, fucked out and covered in your own cum. You want that?”

“Steve,” Tony whispers, eyes falling half-closed as he pictures it, Steve leaving him alone on the bed, one of their toys buzzing inside him, pressing against his prostate until he’s begging and overstimulated. It would be torture but oh god, what bliss.

Steve’s hand clenches and smooths out on his back, traces the dip of his spine, falls to cup his ass and pull him up tight against him. Tony’s mouth falls open in a low keen as his alpha’s thigh presses against his dick. He wants to ride him, wants to push Steve down and shove those pants off his hips, damn whoever’s watching.

“Perfect,” Parker calls, interrupting their moment. Steve snaps his eyes away from Tony and toward the camera, right as the camera goes off. Parker views the picture and lets out a low whistle. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

“Are we done?” Steve snarls, gently urging Tony’s hips into a rhythm against him.

“Must be closer than we thought,” Parker comments as Tony bites his lip against a wail threatening to escape. “Not quite done though. There’s two perfumes and they want two ads to go with it. So, for omega, we’re gonna have you switch places on the steps.”

Tony doesn’t like the idea of having to move at all but he obligingly tries to make his legs work. Ultimately, Steve and Parker end up having to move him while he only sort of helps.

“Sweet omega,” Steve croons into his ear as Parker positions them the way he wants. “You’re doing so well. Gonna reward you when we get home. Gonna wrap you up in our nest, keep you as full as you want.”

“Please,” Tony begs. He’s ready. He’s on the verge of his heat, teetering on the edge. God, Gucci better fucking like this because he’s never doing it again.

“I know, sweetheart. You’re so ready for me. You gotta hold on just a few more minutes though.” Steve’s strong arms are supporting him, forming a line against his spine to hold onto his shoulders. He’s done this before, when he’s deep inside Tony and wants to hold him in place. The memories make him shudder, one of his hands coming up to cup Steve’s head, holding him in place as Steve scents his neck, placing teasing, biting kisses along the length of his throat.

Through the haze of his heat, he hears Parker mutter, “Fuck, they’re gorgeous.”

He turns his face to smirk at the photographer. Gorgeous is right. He and Steve have been voted America’s hottest celebrity couple for the last five years in a row. Parker’s right to be jealous of what they have because no matter how good Parker’s alpha may be, Steve will always be better. It doesn’t matter how jealous Parker might be though. Steve belongs to Tony. 

The camera goes off right as he starts to turn, capturing an expression that’s blissful and heat-hazy and just a little bit smug.

“Alright, we’re good here,” Parker calls, voice a little high-pitched and nervous. “Can we get their shirts?”

The shirts are all but tossed at them. Somewhere in the back of Tony’s mind he recognizes how embarrassing this is. Heat is supposed to be something private between alpha and omega, not flaunted in front of a screen. The majority of his mind is too focused on Steve bundling him into his arms to care.

“I want to see those prints,” Steve growls as he sets off for the door, practically at a run, Tony cradled in his grasp like they’re once more newly bonded.

“Yep,” Parker agrees, looking anywhere but at the two of them. “Oh and Tony?” The pair stops just a few feet from the door. Parker lowers his gaze from the rafters to the two of them. A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face.

“Have fun.”

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 23: Drawings And Diatribes

Today is the opening of Theo’s exhibition. I asked Sebastian for the evening off so I could go see it. Vincent’s paintings will be there, and I am curious to see if his style has changed much since he became a vampire. His art was always my favorite.

The Van Gogh brothers left earlier to set it up, so I take a carriage by myself to the city center. The place is already buzzing when I arrive. Vincent spots me when I walk in and greets me with a bright smile.

“Anaïs! I’m glad you made it, I want to show you something,” he says, taking my hand. I let him guide me through the crowd to the corner of the gallery, and we come to a stop in front of a small painting. It is a portrait of a woman in a yellow dress, with long dark hair flowing lose over her shoulders as she waters a potted white orchid.

“That’s me,” I gasp. I recognize my own face in the thick brushstrokes. The dress le Comte gave me and my green eyes are vivid with color against the dark background. It is truly beautiful. I throw my arms around Vincent and pull him into a hug, which he hesitantly returns. “I love it! I can’t believe my all time favorite artist painted me without me even knowing,” I laugh. “This is a dream come true.”

“Am I really your favorite?” Vincent asks shyly once I let go, scratching the back of his head.

“Of course. That use of contrasting colors! That impasto! Ah, I love everything about your art,” I reply with a smile.

Shakespeare approaches us and takes my hand to his lips in his usual old fashioned greeting. I didn’t know he would be here, but I’m not too surprised. I remember le Comte saying he and Vincent were friends.

“Guillaume, what a surprise. Here to support Vincent?”

“That, and to speak to thee, my lovely rose.” I playfully roll my eyes. He’s only calling me that to annoy me. “Now that thou hast come to the exhibition opening, I can’t help but feel a little jealous. I am premiering a new play on Friday, and it would be an honour if thou came to see it.”

“I can’t say no if you ask me like that,” I shrug, smiling. I spot Theo in the background, discussing business as usual, and quickly excuse myself. I want to congratulate him for putting this together. It seems to be quite successful, so far. “I’ll be there, I promise.”

I let go of Shakespeare’s hand and walk away. The art collector that Theo was talking to leaves him to go look at the other paintings, and I poke his shoulder with a finger.

“This is amazing, Theo,” I say when he turns around, before standing on my toes to greet him with a peck on each cheek. “You’re a great curator. Look how many people showed up!” He has good taste, clearly, and everyone can see that. I am not as knowledgeable in what constitutes ‘good art’ as I am in how to prevent it falling apart, but I have spent enough time in museums to know what a good exhibition looks like. This one is excellent.

“Thanks, hondje,” he replies. Judging by the lack of cutting remarks, he is in a good mood. The hint of a smile on his face makes dimples appear on his cheeks, which I find absolutely adorable. Too bad I rarely see it.

I’m more of a cat person, really,” I chuckle at his nickname. Ever since the ‘snack’ debacle, he uses it more often than he does my actual name, and Vincent kindly translated it for me. Theo scrunches up his face in disgust, making me laugh, and I leave him to do his own thing. With the amount of potential buyers that came tonight, he’s going to be busy.

For the next hour or so I simply observe the rest of the paintings. That is, until a bearded man approaches me. He looks somewhat familiar, although I can’t pinpoint where I’ve seen his face before.

“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle. Are you the lady in that painting over there?” He recognizes me from Vincent’s portrait.

“I am,” I nod. The stranger furrows his brow thoughtfully, staring at me, and I feel a slight blush creeping over my cheeks.

“The artist did a wonderful job of capturing your likeness. I wonder how you managed to pose so naturally,” he ponders out loud.

“Oh, I didn’t. I just went about my day like I usually would, but I had no idea he was painting me.” The man keeps staring art me in silence, so I feel the need to explain. “The artist is my friend. I have been staying in his home for the past couple weeks.”

“I love it,” he mutters through his bushy beard. “No posing, no artifice, just the natural, unadulterated gaze of a friend... I should write about that.”

The lightbulb in my head lights up after hearing his words, making my eyes widen in recognition. I know where I’ve seen him. His photograph was on the back of the book I read on the airplane when I came to Paris.

“You’re Émile Zola,” I simply state, and he laughs.

“The one and only. I take it you’ve read my work, then?”

Holy shit. My stay here keeps getting more interesting: in the past week I have made out with Leonardo da Vinci, been painted by Vincent van Gogh, and now I am talking to the Émile Zola, the father of literary naturalism. I could swoon, if I had not frozen in place.

“I absolutely adored L’Œuvre,” I blurt out, “I recently finished reading it.” I regret saying that immediately. Fuck, what if it hasn’t been published yet? I messed up.

“I am glad to hear that. It received a lot of critique when it was first published.”

I breath out in relief. That was a close call. I should probably stop freaking out about historical figures’ work if I want to avoid letting on about their future. This magnificent writer before me has no idea that in a few months he will risk his entire career to expose the Dreyfus Affair, which hasn’t even happened yet.

“Yeah, I don’t understand the hate for impressionism either,” I say, looking back at Vincent’s painting. Though most of his work is technically postimpressionist, the paintings in the exhibition fit in with the time’s most transgressive styles, but I can still see his essence peak through. I figured le Comte would want his art to blend in a little better to avoid attention. “I personally prefer it. You know, ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’, and all that. People just need to respect others’ eyes, even if they don’t see the same as theirs.”

Zola lets out a chuckle and strokes his beard.

“I like you, mademoiselle...”

“Hondje!” Before I can give him my name, Theo interrupts. “We’re going to the tavern, you coming?”

“Sure, wait for me!” I turn to Zola, smiling. “Anaïs. My name, I mean. Thanks for the chat,” I say, excusing myself with a nod. I look back over my shoulder to see the author waving at me with an amused smile.

I catch up to Theo outside, where Vincent and Shakespeare are already waiting. Arthur is there, too, even though he did not visit the exhibition.

“Fancy to see you here, dove,” he says when he sees me, wrapping his arm around my waist. “Alright, I know an excellent place just two blocks from here. Let’s hurry before they run out of tables.”

“I’m actually pretty tired,” says Vincent. “I think I’ll just head home.”

Theo gives him a brotherly pat on the back, and I hug him goodbye. After he leaves, Shakespeare, who has been silent until now, chimes in.

“Alas, I must retire for the night as well.” He takes my hand to kiss it once again, and I notice Arthur and Theo share a meaningful glance. “I shall see thee on Friday, Anaïs. Farewell.”

He walks away too, leaving the three of us alone. Once I’m sure Shakespeare is too far to hear us, I immediately turn to the two men standing next to me.

“Okay, what was that about?”

“Theo hates Will,” Arthur chuckles. “He’s jealous because he spends time with Vincent, aren’t you, little brother?” he teases the other, playfully nudging him with his elbow.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Theo replies with a scowl. Then he turns to me. “Do not believe a word he says, hondje. This fool wouldn’t know a dog if it bit him in the ass, let alone what someone else is thinking.”

I laugh at the two of them bickering, before I double down on my inquiry. Arthur never really explained what the deal is with Shakespeare, but it’s clear that something else is going on.

“No, but really. Why are you all so weird around him?”

“We can discuss it over a few drinks!” Arthur declares cheerfully. I know he is just trying to distract me, but his fun attitude is contagious.

“Hell yeah, drinks!” I exclaim. Theo remains silent, looking angry as always, so Arthur and I begin chanting the word until he gives in.

“Fine by me,” he finally agrees with a shrug. I close my hand and push it towards Arthur, trying to give him a fist bump, but of course, he has no idea what that is. He stares at me with a raised eyebrow, and I grab his hand, gently bend his fingers, and bump it against my own, showing him how it works.

“Is this something people do in your time?” he asks, intrigue visible on his face.

“Mh-hm,” I nod. “Sort of like a celebratory gesture. We convinced Theo to drink with us, so now...” I explain, holding up my fist again. He does the same, bringing it to touch mine. “Fist bump.”

“Huh, it’s quite curious,” Arthur muses. “Fun, even.”

“I think it looks silly,” Theo chimes in. I shrug, letting out a chuckle.

“Maybe, but I think you’re just jealous.”

He rolls his eyes and begins walking away from the gallery, with Arthur not far behind. I follow, hoping that it’s not very far. The sky has been unusually cloudy today, and it might start raining any second.

[thisselflovecamebacktome]

Confetti Album First Listen (+ Reflection) Thoughts

General Thoughts:

Earlier this year when Break Up Song dropped, I was so excited for this album. As someone who felt LM5 + Bounce Back was rushed and relied too much on nostalgic production and as someone who still stans Glory Days, this felt much more like my sound. To compare this to another artist, I had hoped this album had been the equivalent to Taylor’s Reputation; not in sound, but in the fact that I didn’t like 1989 and wondered if I had outgrown her only to be proven wrong with Reputation. And with a lead single as strong as Break Up Song (and One I’ve Been Missing), I was very hopeful.

However, none of the singles that followed lived up to this standard in my opinion. I still hate Holiday, Not A Pop Song is nostalgic but ultimately a forgettable song, Happiness just felt like a weaker The Cure and to be honest, even now, I could not tell you the first thing about Sweet Melody.

As I will discuss, this trend continued with the album. In short, I feel as if this album had a lot of potential and in theory, I should have loved it. But I also feel like it fell into the same trap as LM5 for me in which nostalgic production was too heavily relied upon. But where LM5 had diamonds in the rough which I still adore, Confetti feels lacklustre lyrically to the point I can only realistically see myself listening to Break Up Song consistently in the long run, with maybe three other songs if I’m in the right mood. Ultimately, Confetti is a off-putting mix of the girls seemingly not caring to put in the effort anymore and yet still trying to hold onto getting chart hits. Further, Confetti sounds as if it was made from the rightfully cut songs from Get Weird. And though Get Weird is my tied second favourite album from Little Mix alongside Salute, Confetti just doesn’t stack up.

If I haven’t already turned you away, my thoughts on individual songs will be below.

Break Up Song: As I’ve already mentioned, I love this song. It’s very classic Little Mix in a way that doesn’t like I’ve heard it from them before. All up it’s just a really fun song which feels like a throwback to Glory Days and I hope more songs like this are in their future.

Holiday: I hate this song. Like it was very clearly made to be a hit with mixed results but nothing about it appeals to me. I don’t really think there’s much else to say, especially seeing as this seems to be the one take I have in this fandom which isn’t unpopular lmao.

Sweet Melody: I’m going to be honest, I do not understand the hype for this song. The video is alright and I’m glad the choreography is back, but ultimately it feels mismatched to the song upon looking up the lyrics. Like I feel like it would have been better for a Salute song than here. It definitely sounds very 2000s girl group which typically I like, but again, when I feel like I’ve heard it all before, it’s like ‘okay well why should I come back to this song in particular?’. Ultimately I guess I could use it as background music. Like it’s not bad, just very forgettable.

Confetti: This is one of those songs that in theory I should love. It has a good message behind the lyrics. But again, ultimately I find it forgettable, especially from a group that has several songs with a similar message. I will give it that in a club setting, the chorus probably goes off.

Happiness: I’ll be honest, had Little Mix not released The Cure, I probably would have liked this song. ‘I was searching for happiness, I was using you to fill up my loneliness’ is a great line, especially when thinking about who I’d relate to this song to personally. But like in general, I just feel like this is a weaker version of The Cure lyrically and find myself more inclined to just listen to The Cure instead.

Not A Pop Song: I’ve mentioned in past posts that this song makes me nostalgic for the late Christina Grimmie’s song My Anthem and while that made me smile, it’s another case of ‘okay well I can just go listen to Christina’s music’. I also feel this is a kinda weak resistance song, and not just due to the lack of profanities. Like again it feels like it was released for sales knowing that that ‘I don’t do what Simon says’ line would drum up gossip. So again, it’s an okay song for background music I guess, but definitely not a favourite from the girls.

Nothing But My Feelings: This one feels fun and gives me similar vibes to Private Show. While I think I’ll have to be in the mood for it, this one was one of the ones that positively stood out to me when I first listened to the album. Unsurprisingly, it also seems to be one the fandom as a whole likes the least given usually the songs I like are but yeah, I’d go as far as to say it’s a top three for me for this album. Although I will be the first to admit that that’s a low bar.

Gloves Up: I wasn’t surprised to see this was a fan favourite given the Salute vibes it gives both lyrically and in its production. However, I feel like it resembles Salute in the outdated way production wise. Likewise, lyrically I feel like it doesn’t stand up next to Little Mix’s other empowerment songs, so much like Happiness, I feel like I’m just going to end up listening to their past songs.

A Mess (Happy 4 U): Again, I feel like this is a song I should like. It’s relatable, the girls’ voices sound great on it and in theory should be emotional. But ultimately it just feels forgettable with nothing drawing me back to it in the way other songs I’ve previously heard with the same message/situation do.

My Love Won’t Let You Down: So I’ll say that I don’t feel like this ballad lives up to the girls’ past ones BUT THANK GOD THEY BROUGHT BACK BALLADS! Like this was the one thing I really felt was missing from LM5. This is definitely a top three track for me for this album and while again, I feel like I’m gonna need to be in the mood to listen to it, I feel like it will hit when I need it to.

Rendezvous: Again, Imma be honest, I don’t get the hype for this song. It’s another one that I feel like I’ve felt a million times before. It also kinda reminds me of a song that would be on Crazy Ex Girlfriend which like isn’t bad but a completely different vibe for me than what a studio album should be. Again, could be used for background music but ultimately forgettable.

If You Want My Love: ‘Everything you're doin' right now is so basic’ feels like a good representation of this song for me, not going to lie. It feels like a watered down 2000s track and as if You Gotta Not and American Boy had a baby lyrically. And those who know me know they’re not my favourite tracks.

Breathe: I actually really liked this song... until the chorus. Good and relatable message and lyrics with good production. But the production and repetition in the chorus just ruin it for me. I hope at some point they do an acapella or stripped back version without those features, but I doubt it.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter three: fire and lemons

“i'm goin' back, of course i am! as if i ever had a choice. back to what i always knew i was on the inside. back to what I really am.” -”burning bright (field on fire)”, nine inch nails

It would be another couple of days before Sam heard a peep from Joey again. In the meantime, she had picked up Metallica's phone numbers given she knew she would have more encounters with them in and around their shows, and she made a promise to a tipsy Lars to share some of her drawings when she found the chance.

Cliff offered to take Sam home but she had already been promised a ride from Marla, Frank, and Charlie back up to the Bronx; Joey hitched a ride with them given he was in no shape to drive back upstate. The last thing she saw before she left the restaurant was Cliff's thoughtful facial expression, there right behind James and Kirk; Legacy, meanwhile, were headed on back to their hotel somewhere down in Manhattan. Sam peered out the car window in time to see that boy with the little white tuft in his hair at the curb: darkness shrouded his face but she could make out the shape of the small piece of white through it all.

The warm spring night greeted her and Frank once the two of them had returned to the apartment complex for the night: Sam's knee still ached a bit as she took the steps up to her place, but it wasn't anywhere near as bad as it used to be before. She made a mental note to head on back to Frank's apartment to fetch that journal and make some more drawings, that time to show to Lars.

In the meantime, she used a small journal she had delved out from the bottom of her bag for doodles. She kept her mind fixated on Cliff, especially since she knew it was him at that point. Indeed, when she fell asleep on the couch that night, he appeared in the wake of her dream. The white stripe bled away into darkness and into a pair of snakes atop his head. His handsome face gazed back at her like the old stone face of a statue.

It wasn't him, but it also was. The man of her dreams, same as he ever was and always will be to her. He was in between something, somewhere, someone who graced the earth. It was Cliff. It wasn't Cliff. Somewhere in between there.

She reached out to touch him, to feel him, to get to know him, and yet he drifted away from her, much like that of a ghost in the shadows. He wondered around her as if he was about to circle his prey, but he never said anything. His deep set eyes watched her, even as he walked behind her and underneath her.

She awoke with her arms outstretched before her, such that they dangled over the edge of the couch cushions. She let her fingers curl back towards the base of her palm. So close and yet so far away from her.

Sam also recalled the promise she made to Joey, to go and hang out with him at some point that week. She had made a couple of calls to him over the course of two days but he never picked up once. She did, however, pick up his answering machine and the sound of his soft voice coupled with his distinct upstate accent. Every single time she did, she closed her eyes to relish in it.

“Hey, this is Joey Belladonna—I'm either out jammin' or playin' hockey, but you can leave a message if you'd like, please and thank you.”

It was only for a few seconds, but it was something.

He finally made the call back to her early one morning, but she was quick to pick it up there in the kitchen as she began to brew a small pot of coffee for herself.

“Hey, my li'l Sam I am,” he greeted her in a soft, broken voice.

“Hey, Joey! I've been wondering what's been going on with you.”

“I had a feelin' that was the case.” A gentle crackling noise on his end caught her attention.

“Is everything okay?” she asked him. “You don't sound good.”

“I just woke up,” he answered, “I haven't been able to get back to ya 'cause I was nursin' the hangover.”

“Oh, I see.”

“It was also one of those things where it was like—I kept forgetting to get back to you. That's kinda my fault, though. I kept forgetting and by that point, it was always like almost midnight and I figured you had already gone to sweet. So—but here I am now! How is everything?”

“Oh, you know,” she replied with a shrug of her shoulders, “—just waiting to hear back from the admissions desk at my school and doodling and whatnot. I can foresee hope of paying my rent soon.”

“That's so good,” he remarked and the crackling noise emerged from the background again. “So, uh—what you wanna do when we see each other again?”

“What do you have in mind?” Sam leaned back against the edge of the counter and folded her arms across her chest.

“Well, Metallica's coming back out this way—not this week but next Friday, I think? They haveta finish up on some important stuff for their new record. Apparently they recorded it over in Denmark so they left for there just last night and then they're comin' back here.”

“Wow. Why Denmark?”

“I dunno—sump'n 'bout the studio being cold so everything stands out better. Scott, Frankie, and Charlie know about it way more than I do. Legacy are comin' back over this way around then, too. I guess they'll be playing at L'Amour again.”

“Oh, how fun! I'd like to see them again—I wanna get to know them more.”

“Right? They're kind of at the tail end of this whole wave going around here and back out West, too. This wave of... 'speed metal' as it's known. Everyone is calling Metallica, Anthrax, and two other bands outta California, Megadeth and Slayer, as like the ones who're leading the way. Like the big ones.”

“The big four?” she followed along.

“Yeah, they're like the big four! The big four of the whole thing. And Legacy are kinda at the tail end of it 'cause they started a little later and they're still shuffling around.”

“A 'transition stage' as Zelda described it,” she recalled. “And you're part of it!”

“And I'm part of the big four! It almost feels like a movement of sorts. Although Anthrax to me feels like the oddball of the bunch 'cause y'know, we're from New York and those guys are all from your neck of the woods in California.”

“But they all frequent out this way, though,” she pointed out. “At least Metallica and Legacy do anyway.”

“They all do, yeah—we should meet up with Megadeth and Slayer at some point. The couple of times I got to meet Slayer, they were—for lack of a better word—fucking badasses. These seemingly scary looking dudes but they were real cool, though. Real friendly and genuine buncha guys. I haven't met Megadeth yet, though. We all should have a big party together some day.”

“All the parties and all the rage,” she remarked.

“All the parties and all the rage, all the world's a stage,” he waxed.

“That's good, you should write that down.”

“I ain't no song writer, though. Some people are good at that sorta thing—I don't really see myself as that.”

“But that was good, though! I liked that, Joey. You should do something of your own some day, like Stormtroopers of Death.”

“Do my own shtick and release under the label down there in the City,” he joked.

“Yeah, exactly!”

“But anyways, that's next week when Metallica are coming back from Denmark, though,” he continued, that time in a serious tone. “What about this week and before you hear back from the school people is what you wanted to know, though.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, let's see—I'm not doin' anything together. And I haven't been able to do anything, either, 'cause—you know.”

“Hungover.”

“Hungover—that lasted a little more than a day, too. But I'm back and invigorated, though.” He fell silent for a second, and the rustling noise caught her attention once again.

“What's that sound?” she asked him.

“What sound?”

“I keep hearing like this crackling sound on your end.”

“Oh, I'm layin' on my couch and there's a bunch of newspapers down on the floor and I keep brushing my foot up against it. Sometimes I don't even pay attention to what I'm doin' when I'm on the phone and—ah, shit—” More crackling on his end.

“What happened?”

“I kicked it over—hang on a sec.” Silence fell on his end: she could hear him shuffling around and doing something off of the phone. But within time, he returned to the phone and let out a long low whistle. “Here's an idea—how 'bout I drive on down there to the Bronx and come on over to your place and we play by ear there?”

“Sounds good. I'll be waiting for you.”

“It's gonna be a while—like—well, you've been up here before. It takes a while to get on down there. So—take a shower if ya wish. I know I'm gonna do that.”

“You wanna look good for me?” she teased him.

“Well...”

“Well?” She raised her eyebrows even though he couldn't see her.

“I won't deny it, but I also need a shower,” he finished in a single breath. “I smell like an empty liquor bottle.”

“Oh, yeah—get in that shower, big fella.”

He laughed at that and within time, they hung up, and Sam made her way to the bathroom for a warm shower and a fresh change of clothes. She knew she would have to return home from her day with Joey soon enough given the thought about her attending school hung over her. An excuse to get away from there and a reason for him to get away from that awful feeling.

Indeed, as the warm water cascaded over her head and shoulders, she figured she could help him out of that. That night in the alleyway told her that he was a boy in need of help. There was no way she could fix him but she could at the very least be a friend to him and dig him out of the alleyway once again.

Within time, she had dried off and ran a brush through her hair. A knock on the door caught her attention and she flung it open to find Joey standing there in a little white shirt and fitted black jeans. His jet black flyaway curls glistened under the ambient sunlight of the hallway and his sun kissed skin looked so soft and smooth. His black Chuck Taylors fitted his feet like a new pair of gloves. Meanwhile, the marker ink had stayed intact on his dark skin even after a couple of days and after he had cleaned up for her.

She noticed a flat silvery metallic band on his right wrist: something she hadn't seen before with him.

“What, no flowers?” She was taken aback.

“Was I supposed to get ya flowers?” he asked her, slightly hurt.

She hesitated for a second, and then she realized what she had done.

“Can I ask you a question?” she started.

“Yeah, sure,” Joey raised his dark eyebrows at her.

“Is this your first date?”

He stopped with his eyebrows still raised up into his bangs. She gazed into those dark irises.

“You really wanna know?”

“Please.”

He nibbled on his bottom lip.

“Is this a date?” he asked her.

“It's a date if you want it to be one,” she pointed out. “It can be a play date.”

“Nah, it's a play date if you and I are jammin' together.” He hesitated. “Do you—”

“Do I what?” She turned her head a bit to make sure her purse was within her arm's length on the hook.

“Play an instrument at all?” he finished with a bit of reluctance.

“I don't. I probably should, though.”

“Yes, you totally should.” His face lit up at that. She showed him a smile and then she reached to her right for her purse.

“Shall we?” she started.

“Yeah, let's,” he said as he lifted his elbow up for her to link up. She slung the purse over her shoulder and she closed the door in one fell swoop. The two of them made their way outside to the bright sunlight and the fresh aroma of springtime. Joey reached into his jeans pocket for his mirrored sunglasses: with one hand, he put it on over his dark eyes and his straight Roman nose. The lenses shone in the bright yellow light; Sam squinted her eyes once they reached the sidewalk.

“There's a little park over here,” Joey told her with a point up the block. “Like, around the corner. We can hang out and take a walk around the place.”

“Is there a lake or something there?” she asked him as she shielded her eyes from the midday sun with her free hand.

“I don't think so,” he confessed. “I didn't see one. I also saw a hockey rink not too far from here.”

“You wanna show me a little round of hockey, don't ya?” she teased him.

“If ya don't mind,” he replied with a little shrug of his shoulders and a lopsided little smile.

“Can we walk?”

“We can,” he said, and he ran his fingers through the fine, minute ringlets on the side of his head.

Joey linked up his right elbow with her left and they strolled together down the sidewalk to the corner. Sam peered past him to the narrow side street and she spotted the narrow strip of grass which he called the park.

“That's more like a dog park,” she declared.

“Yeah, now that I look at it—I imagine a bunch'a little dogs running around there now that I really look at it.” He lifted the sunglasses from his face for a moment; once they crossed the pavement, he brought them back down. She spotted the hockey rink in question, a long low dark building set back from the blacktop.

“I should've brought my skates with me,” he confessed over the noise of the street. “But then again, I don't think either of us can go onto the ice without one of us asking.”

“You could always say you're a hockey player,” she suggested as they looked both ways before they crossed the street.

“Yeah, but I'd need to do a little more than just say it, though,” he pointed out. Stray, damp black curls flew out from the back of his head as he led her across the first two lanes of the street. He paused at the center divider to let her catch up to him.

“You sure can run fast,” she remarked with a bit of a pant.

“That's part of the trade,” he replied with that lopsided grin back on his face. “Here—” He extended his hand for her and he guided her across the other two lanes to the sidewalk and ultimately, the hockey rink. Joey's black curls sprawled over his shoulders once they were in repose so as to catch their breath.

“For a skinny little guy, you sure are strong and full of stamina,” she said as she adjusted the strap of her purse.

“As I said, it's part of the trade. The strength of the whole thing will make you help the others find it for themselves. C'mon...” He led her to the hockey rink, which had been closed for the springtime, but he was willing to look in through the front window at the dark front room. She joined in next to him: through the cold shadows, she could make out the sight of a low bench and a series of lockers on the side of the wall.

“God, this takes me back,” he said in a low voice. “It seems like a lifetime ago since I would sit on a bench like that and lace up and put on my knee pads and my jersey.”

He turned to her with a serious expression on his face.

“Do ya think maybe you'd be up for a game of hockey at some point in the future?” he suggested. “I can show you how to do it if you don't know anything.”

“It'll be a while, though, Joey,” she pointed out.

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” he nodded at her with haste. “But I wanna show you the world that came before I turned into Joe the singing drummer—or Joe the drumming singer, whichever suits best. And I'll see if I can find a pair of skates for ya. And now that we bring it up, I kinda wanna show you something...” His voice trailed off and he turned his head. Without hesitating, he ducked over to a white plastic pipe laying on the grass. She stood there before the window and watched him.

“I was a goalie for a long time,” he called out; he held the end of the pipe with two hands, and he held it down by his slim waist. He spread his legs so it looked as though he was about to brandish a sword. “I did act as offense and defense a few times in the past, but I was mostly a goalie.”

“Did you have those big pads on your knees?” she asked him with a gesture down to her own knees.

“Oh, yeah—they stuck onto my knees and went all the way down to my ankles. I had these big oven mitts for gloves to protect my hands. You don't really think of the goalies taking a lotta shit, but we do. Well, I did, anyway. I got hit in the head and in the stomach a lot. Anyways, I'm holdin' this pipe like this 'cause you never wanna raise the hockey stick any higher than this. Any higher and you hit the guy next to you right in the face and you get sent to the box, too. You don't wanna be in the box.”

“Do I have to spread my feet like that, too?” she asked him.

“Nah. I'm only doin' it out of habit. When I'm on the ice, I wanna steady myself so I have a good shot for my teammates. C'mere—” Sam sauntered over to him and he handed her the pipe. She held it by the opposite end with both hands herself.

“And when you're swingin' it, like you're hittin' the puck with it, you wanna put the hand you write with closer to the head. Which hand do you write with?”

“My right.”

“Okay, so, here—” She moved her right hand down the pipe right as Joey stood right behind her. “Just like that, yeah! Well, not that far—” She moved her hand up towards her. “—yeah, that's better. And now put that end down to the ground—” She did just that and her purse slid off of her back, but she didn't mind. “It's a lot easier if we're movin' around and we're on the ice, like it just becomes natural to you.”

Sam stood back upright and held the pipe as if it was a baton.

“I was going to say, I can see this being real hard on your back.”

Joey shook his head a bit.

“It is kinda, like at first it was for me. But you get stronger with each time and on top of that, like I said, we're usually moving around at a real pace so you don't really think about it too much when you're playing a round with your team or you're hanging out with a bunch of friends.” He ran his fingers through the ringlets on the side of his head yet again.

“Wanna take a walk?” he suggested.

“Yeah. I haven't really seen much of this neighborhood since I moved here. I've either been hanging out with all of you guys or concerned with school and my own things.”

“Or it's been snowin',” he added.

“Or it's been snowing, right!”

“I'd put that pipe back on the ground, too—I saw something crawl out of it.”

Without even thinking for a split second, Sam tossed the pipe off to the side and they made their way down the sun bathed block. That time, they didn't link arms, but Joey walked side by side with her. All of the buildings were made of faded pale brick, but the whole neighborhood of the Bronx was in stark contrast to the rest of the city with all the little shops and the apartment complexes that lined the street.

“Maybe at some point, I can take ya a little bit upstate,” he said at one point.

“We can go now if you'd like,” she suggested, “you know, if you're not doing anything else today.”

“You wanna?” He showed her a grin.

“Yeah, let's do it! I only saw the one part of it when we went to go get you.”

“Alright—let's get on back and I'll drive you up to Poughkeepsie. It's one of my favorite places to play a gig at. It's a little bit of a drive, but I think we do it, though.”

It took them a little bit to return to Sam's block and to climb inside of Joey's beat up car. The same car that broke down in the months before out in the middle of the harsh New York winter. The same car he almost froze inside of.

“You still haven't gotten a new car?” she asked, stunned, as she rested her purse upon her lap and rolled down the window.

“There hasn't been any money,” he admitted with a solemn look on his face. He slipped the key into the ignition. “Trust me when I say this, though—the second there is a bit o' money, the first thing I'm getting is a new car.” It fired up without any roughness, but once they made their onto the parkway outside of the Bronx, Sam could feel the car was nearing its final miles: the way in which it seemed to struggle with staying in a straight line on the hard black pavement and also with staying up to speed with the rest of the traffic.

“I don't know if we'll be able to even get there,” he confessed at one point. She peered out the window at the sight of one of those green road signs, and its decreeing that Poughkeepsie was eighty miles away.

“You were able to drive down this way with no problems, though, didn't you?”

“Not at all. So this—this kinda worries me a li'l bit, if I'm honest.”

“What do you think we should do?” she asked him.

“Well—let's see. Keep an eye on those payphones out there. If we break down either out this way or on the way back, we're gonna haveta hit up either Frankie or Aurora or somebody to come and get us on one of those. I'll do the same if it breaks down and you're not with me.”

They drove up the wide four lane parkway for a few miles when the whole car began to gyrate and shake while in motion. Sam caught the smell of something burning.

“Shit,” he blurted out. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—shit!”

“What the hell is that? What's wrong with it?”

“It's overheating.” Joey shuffled his feet underneath his seat. Sam clutched at her purse. He drove towards the far right lane and the guard rail. He hit the brake pedal and the car screeched to a stop. The second they were at a halt, hot steam emerged from underneath the hood. The steam was then followed by a short flame out the front grill.

“Oh, my god, this car is dying, Sam!” He hit the edge of the steering wheel with both hands and bowed his head in frustration. “This fucking piece of shit!”

Sam climbed out of the front seat with her purse in hand and she made her way towards a tree on the side of the road to be away from the burning car. Joey followed suit right behind her. They stood together several feet away and watched the whole front of the car catch on fire.

“I'm sorry, Sam—I didn't mean for you to see that part of me,” he sputtered; Sam looked into his face to see tears in his eyes.

“Joey, you did what you could. That car was going to die anyway.”

“It was, yeah.” His upper lip trembled and she moved in closer to him. Sirens down the parkway caught her ear.

“Joey—I don't want to fix you. I want to be a friend to you. You're a sweet boy. You are. You are!”

“But I'm fucked up, though.”

“You're not! You're not fucked up, Joey. You like to party and have fun, and sometimes things like a burning car happen. But it's not your fault, Joey. I promise you. None of it is your fault.” She threw her arms around his slender body and she held him close. She leaned the side of her head against his chest so she could watch the back end of the car ignite into big hot yellow flames. They stood a ways away from it to keep away from the smoke, and the black column rose in the other direction from them, but she could feel the heat from the inferno.

“Thankfully I took my blanket out of the back,” he tearfully said. “That thing belonged to my grandma.”

“And thankfully, we're out of there,” she pointed out; she peered up at him and she brushed a tear away from his face.

“What the hell am I gonna say to my dad now?” he asked, and his brown eyes grew wide with concern.

“Tell him the truth,” she advised. “That's all I can tell you. Just tell him what happened.”

“I don't wanna lie to him after all,” he said with a sniffle and a shrug of his slender shoulders.

Within time, a fire truck and an ambulance showed up. But at that point, the car had burned down to the axles and Sam had already hunted down the payphone to give Aurora a call.

“They're taking us down to the station to check on us,” she told her. “Okay—call Marla and Charlie and tell them what happened. I'll give you a ring when we get there.”

Neither of them had inhaled any of the smoke given they stood so far from it and the column billowed in the opposite direction, but Sam could hardly shake the image of those bright flames from her mind as she and Joey rode in the back of the ambulance back to the Bronx.

“Why do I always get into deep shit when we're together?” he pointed out to her as they neared the familiar neighborhood. “Like it almost feels like karma is working against me whenever you and I hang out.”

“Why would karma work against you?” she asked him.

“I puked my guts out twice, the hockey rink was closed, and now my car caught on fire. It's almost like the universe is telling me we shouldn't hang out together.”

“I drew your face, though,” she pointed out. “It's in my journal—the same journal I handed in to get myself into school.”

“Oh, shit. I don't wanna jinx it then.”

“You won't jinx it,” she insisted.

“But that's my fear, though.”

They reached the driveway of the hospital, where a pair of nurses checked on them to ensure they didn't inhale that acrid smoke or received a bad burn of some sort. Sam recognized Marla's orange hair in the afternoon sun at the far end of the driveway.

Charlie reached them first with his arms wide open and he was quick to embrace them both.

“God, I'm so glad you guys are okay,” he murmured into Sam's ear.

“It was so scary,” she told him as Marla pushed him out of the way to embrace her.

“What were you guys even doing?” Charlie asked them.

“I was gonna take her up to Poughkeepsie for the day,” Joey explained, “we got a few miles out of town and the damn thing started overheating. It started shaking like a boiler, and then I pulled over and that was when the radiator went out and it caught fire. She got out of there so fast. Like she saw the steam rising and she just bolted. Right, and I'm the fast runner.” That coaxed that lopsided grin out of him, and a slight chuckle out of her.

“So what happens now?” Marla asked him.

“Bunk with me?” Sam suggested. “My couch is so comfy.”

“You're gonna make him sleep on the couch?” Charlie cracked.

“Where else is he gonna sleep at? On a hook?”

The two men burst out laughing at that.

“Yeah, I don't see why not,” Joey replied with a shrug. “I need to call my parents and tell them what happened, too.”

* * * * *

Given he had no means of returning home and fetching a fresh change of clothes for himself, Joey stayed in the same shirt and jeans for the next couple of days before Frank offered to take him home on Saturday night. But he lay on her couch with his sock feet and he greeted her every morning with that crooked smile plastered on his face. He always asked her how she slept the night before, and he always offered to help her out whenever he could.

On Thursday night, right before they turned in for the night, she realized that she was correct about him. Joey just needed someone to talk to in the whole grand scheme of things, being the boy from upstate New York and the guy thrust into the music scene from the hockey world. He only drank as much as he did because he needed a means of escape. He took it out on himself because of that old stone face that stared back at her through the darkness as she switched off the light.

The next morning, Sam was jarred awake to the sound of the phone ringing in the kitchen. He caught it first given he lay there on the couch partially awake.

“Yeah,” he was saying in a broken voice; she stepped into the room right as he turned to face her. He showed her a smile. “Yeah, yeah, she's right here.”

And without changing his expression for a second, he handed her the phone. “I won't jump to conclusions but I think you're in business,” he told her with a twinkle in his eye.

Sam gasped and she brought the receiver to her right ear.

“Hello?”

“Is this Sam Shelley?” a man asked her.

“It is.”

“I'm Bill Gaunt—the man from admissions you gave the journal to about a week ago.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. I remember you well.” She couldn't resist the excited smile on her face.

“Well, all I have to say is we love your art so much that we need to meet you and we need you here with us.”

“Seriously?” She brought a hand to her chest. Joey leaned in closer to her with his eyebrows raised high up into his bangs.

“Seriously, seriously. If you can come down some time today or Monday—the sooner the better—we'll figure out a grant for you. Welcome aboard!”

“Oh, thank you so much! I'll be there soon.” She hung up and she turned to an excited Joey.

“I'm in!” she declared. “I'm an art student!”

“Oh fuck yeah!” He threw his arms around her and she leaned her head against his chest. “Oh, my god, Frankie and Charlie are gonna freak when they hear about this.”

“Make a pot of coffee,” she told him as she stepped towards the kitchen doorway. “I'm gonna tell Frankie about it.”

“Is he even up?”

“I don't care if he isn't,” she quipped, “this is a time of celebration!” That brought a laugh out of him, and she ran out of the apartment in her pajama bottoms and her camisole; down past Emile's place and down the hall. She pounded on the door panel with both hands, and Frank greeted her with bleary eyes.

“Sam? The hell's going on?”

“I got into art school!” And his face lit up.

“Holy shit! See? I told you you'd get in!” He threw his arms around her. “Oh, god, that just made my life!” His chest shuddered a bit from the feeling. She pulled back to look into his face and he wiped away some happy tears.

“Oh, fuck—fuck, man.” He then rubbed his hands together. “I've gotta call Charlie and Marla and tell them—they're gonna be thrilled.”

“I'm gonna call my parents,” she told him. “I owe them absolutely everything.”

Frank returned to his apartment still with tears in his eyes and she ducked past Emile's apartment right as he poked his head out to the hallway. “What's all the commotion, Miss Shelley?” he asked her.

“I got into school, Emile! I'm gonna have some money coming in!”

“Excellent!” He showed her a thumbs up.

Sam hurried up the stairs to call up her parents and to have a cup of coffee with Joey. Every step up felt lighter and swifter. It was like a dead weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She was finally a part of New York City, and she was going to let everyone know it.

Indeed, when she and Joey made her way down to Manhattan together so she could do it that day, and he didn't want her to go alone, she had a desire to tell everyone on the subway about it. She had to stop herself given she knew what Charlie had told her about living in the city. Joey huddled close to her on the other side of the support pole but he never touched her. He only showed her a big, excited smile and the twinkle in his eye.

“How exciting!” she decreed as she clutched the strap of her purse.

“Got a hand in Anthrax's world and now you're about to embark into art school,” he said with a nod of his head; the smile never left his face as they arrived in Manhattan and they surfaced from the subway to the bright sunshine outside.

“I'm just dyin' of thirst right now,” he confessed to her over the noise of the street. “I'm gonna grab a glass of lemonade. Would you like one?”

“Yes, please!”

Joey made his way down the block to one of the cafes on the side of the street. Right across the street, she spotted a tall man with a big floppy hat atop his head. She recognized him even from a distance. She hurried towards him right as he reached the street and turned in the opposite direction.

“Cliff!” she shouted over the noise of the street.

He never moved, even as she reached the corner of the side street.

“Cliff!” she called out again, and that time, he wheeled around to look at her: that black brim cast a soft shadow over his handsome face, and thus she could see into his eyes as they crinkled up at the corners with his big greeting grin.

“Hey!” he answered in a big bold voice; he set his hand on top of his hat. She peered both ways on the street, and then she darted across the pavement to meet up with him. He never dropped the grin from his handsome face as she came within earshot. She put her arms around his long torso and he returned the favor.

“What the hell, I thought you guys were in Denmark all this week?” she asked him as part of her greeting.

“Yeah, we were but we came back early, though,” he explained.

“How is it there?”

“Beautiful. It's springtime so the darkness and the daylight is perfect at the moment before it falls out of wack again.”

“Joey told me that you guys went there for the perfect sound of your new record,” she said as he led her away from the crowded street.

“Yeah, we were told—it was like a warehouse, this big empty space in the heart of Denmark—it was cold enough for Lars' drums and for the three of us to work harder. So what'cha doin'? I was just gonna go into his little book shop here.” She turned her head for a look at the cozy shop nestled in between a restaurant and a tattoo parlor.

“I got into art school!” she declared with spirit.

“Oh, that's so cool! I'm sure Lars'll like the sound of that.”

“Joey's across the street getting lemonade, but—I don't really wanna stand there on the street, though.” Without hesitating, Cliff held the creaky wooden door for her and she stepped inside of the cozy shop first. Right before her stood a low wooden table covered in books and faded papers: beyond that was a series of bookshelves, and to the right stood a short staircase. Cliff stepped around her and took off his hat to reveal the crown of fine brown hair atop his head. The black stripe was missing that time, to which she frowned at the sight of it.

He gazed on at her with a puzzled look on his face.

“What's the matter?” he asked her.

“For a second, I swore you had a black stripe in your hair,” she confessed.

“I don't,” he promised her, and he showed her a lopsided little grin. “But I can see how it'd confuse ya, though. My hair likes to change color depending on the lighting. One time, I went out with a girl who thought I had some white hairs on the side of my head.” Indeed, he gave his hair a toss back with a flick of his head and it looked as though his hair was comprised of a myriad of different colors. But she spotted a black stripe and a white stripe on the side of his head. It might have been part of the lighting after all, because the colors disappeared and returned to plain brown.

“You are a man of many colors,” she remarked with a grin upon her face. He set his hat down on the edge of the table and he picked up a book from the table in front of him: a blue paperback about the size of his hand from the base of his palm to the tip of his middle finger.

“What book is that?” she asked him.

“Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse—guess it's about Buddha? It's got a picture of Buddha on the cover.”

“Oh, yeah!” she squeaked with a wave of her finger. “I remember reading that when I was in high school.”

Cliff opened up to a random page near the back.

“'I have always believed,'” he read aloud, “'and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value.'” He glanced up at her with his eyebrows raised and his eyes big.

“I remember it well,” she said in a low voice.

“Sam?” Joey's voice floated in through the door behind her.

“Oh, there he is!” She opened the door for him, but he stood there on the sidewalk with glasses of lemonade in either hand. “How'd you know I was here?”

“Saw you walk in,” he explained, and he lifted his gaze into the shop. “Hey, Cliff!”

And Cliff nodded at him and showed him a smile. Sam took the cup in Joey's right hand.

“I gotta go,” she confessed to him, and he nodded at her, still with his eyes big and his face warm and soft. Before she followed Joey out to the street, and with the glass in hand, she stepped closer to Cliff.

“Call me when you get home,” she told him in a low voice.

“That is if you call me first,” he vowed to her with a wink.

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 14 (NSFW)

Read on AO3

Read chapter thirteen

Title: Down for the Count

Words: 7400

Summary: The Jaws theme is playing throughout this chapter, it just wasn't relevant enough to the plot to mention it.

ST rambles: Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I had a lot of fun writing all the different interactions. As I mentioned last week, this chapter was supposed to be completely different. I will not be releasing the alternative as I have plans to use some aspects at another point.

I cannot promise a chapter for the next week or two as I have a paper due this Saturday and will need to focus my writing and time on that. I like to stay at least a chapter ahead, so I say two weeks to be on the side of caution.

[masterlist]

“Let’s not waste any time, shall we, officer?” Hux said, eyes concentrated on the tablet in his hands, storming past you into his office.

The night had not been restful; your back was recovering from the unforgiving exam table, its intended use not one of comfort, but necessity. Along with the incessant pang radiating at your tailbone, the lack of sleep had outfitted you with reddened eyes and an overwhelming headache, every too-loud sound and overbearing light a throb at your temple. Even as you stood to enter into Hux’s lair of career-ending lecturing, you found comfort in the fact that you wouldn’t have to return to your sleepless confines before the day was over.

With one last steeling breath, you pulled your shoulders back and followed in after Hux, taking in the familiar space, unchanged since your last time being here. Hux had already sat down before you’d entered, still focused on his datapad. Whatever he was looking at was no doubt aimed towards the severing of either your ties with the First Order, or the ties between your head and body – either of which he was excited to take part in.

“General,” you said, taking a cautious seat across from him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this early encounter?” The words were mostly civil, only dipped in mockery.

“And it is a pleasure, officer,” he said with one final aggressive tap to the screen, staring at you in malevolent glee. “Now, I should first inform you that you are still contractually bound to Commander Ren until your official denouncement by the Board of Physicians. Other than that, this is the beginning of the end, I am disheartened to say.”

“I’m sure of it.” The goal was to make it through this meeting without digging a deeper hole for yourself, and that meant taking Hux’s snide comments in stride and withholding your own snark.

“Although I thought it was counterintuitive, I am legally bound to tell you that you will be under heavy surveillance. Not only in your practice as a physician – which will be extremely limited while the investigation goes on, by the way – but in your day to day life as well.”

“What? Why?” The words were quick and emotional, coming before you could stop them. He raised an eyebrow, the outburst only offering him more reasons to expedite your dismissal. Clicking your tongue, you regathered yourself. “I’m sorry, general. Why am I being watched?”

Keeping your stare, he slid the datapad across the desk. “The Board of Physicians has deemed it necessary to not only question your competency as a provider, but also your character as an individual.”

Finding a vague familiarity in the event, you half-hoped for the door to rush open and Kylo Ren to come take you away. To your dismay, however delusional and misplaced, the room stayed quiet of the hydraulic hiss, the only sound inhabiting the room being that of the cyclic boots of patrolling stormtroopers beyond the office. With a swallow, you took the tablet into your own hands and scanned over the screen, finding another legal document. This time, though, not displaying the pointed script of Kylo Ren, but that of another familiar face; within your hold was Talia’s incident report, scanned into its electronic existence from her original penmanship.

“I trust you’re aware of what that is, yes?” Hux asked.

His voice was muffled, background noise to your focus on the document. Not reading a single word, too nervous to know how she told the story, you mindlessly scrolled through the pages, regarding its length even in her small script. Nearing the bottom, there was an occasional edit, a typed word among her handwriting. Looking closer, you realized the necessity of the print, noting the original penning had been defaced with interruptions, splotches of dried tears contorting her testimony.

“Oh, Talia,” you whispered to yourself, reaching for the stitching on your chest, fidgeting your sorrow along those three letters just as you had hours earlier.

“Didn’t she do a wonderful job at recounting the occurrence?” Hux’s voice pierced through your pain-laced reverie. “Truly a professional if I’ve ever seen one. Her dutiful reporting of the event proved her allegiance to the First Order, allowing her to receive a warning instead of a sentence.”

“What is your purpose in showing this to me?”

“You’ll eventually get your own copy,” he said. “I figured you’d need a refresh of the events that led you here.”

“I… will never forget that day, General Hux,” you said, peeling away from the tablet.

“Good. You’ll need that ability of recall when you go in front of the Board of Physicians to state you case.”

Unrelated to the environment, a chill fled over your skin. You wanted to believe that he’d misspoke, but he would never mess up relaying anything so pertinent. The Board of Physicians had called for your presence. It made sense, your actions – a crime in their eyes – had directly involved them, their existence being what funded your position, though you never thought they would think it necessary to summon you for a trial. Yes, ethically you had messed up, but you had thought this would be a quick loss, not one that incited you ever coming face to face with the heads of your profession.

Although you’d worked hard at staving off the endless dread since leaving the assessment room, it now slowly crept into your stomach, tightening your chest in its clutch. In the throes of budding panic, your leg sprang up, bouncing silently, a conscious effort to not let your heel hit the floor. “Why do I need to present my case? They should know what happened by now.”

He cleared his throat. “And they do, which is precisely why they called for your audience. Since you were selected for this new endeavor of provider assignments, they are concerned that their investment in the First Order isn’t paying off as they had intended, and by your formal appearance they seek to revise the program for the future.”

A huff of air flared your nostrils. “They’re making an example out of me. How nice of them to choose public humiliation instead of execution.”

His brow creased. “I don’t think you quite understand,” he said. “You have been accused of first-degree larceny. You will lose your license after appearing before them, but the basis for your execution is subject to their judgement.”

“What have I done that would justify the end of my life?”

“You stole from the First Order, byway stealing from the Board of Physicians. Contrary to what you may want to believe, your actions do have consequences, miss,” he bit your last name off.

“I stole? I saved a man’s life by taking blood that would have expired had I not thought of it. How can they not see that?”

“It doesn’t matter what you did with the blood, although you will be questioned on the ethics of transfusing a blood product that had not been properly crossmatched. What matters is the principle. The First Order does not take any crime lightly, but with your being a beta-tester for this brand-new program, compliance among providers is a priority that is to be enforced.”

Everything the Elite does is unfair. Talia’s voice rang loud as you fought back the need to scream, to flip his desk over, to run to the nearest escape pod and shoot off to some far away planet where nobody could find you. It no longer mattered if their actions were unfair, now only caring that they were wholly unjustified, using you as an example, invalidly exploiting you to incite fear amongst your peers, to set a precedent. It was wrong, lawfully and morally, and you’d had your fill.

“I don’t deserve to die. It is sick knowing the backwards logic you’ve twisted just to rid yourself of me,” your voice was husky with restrained rage.

“This has nothing to do with me, officer. This is completely on you. You made your bed, now lie in it.”

“I did nothing wrong!” You cried out. “I’m a convenient way of pushing some agenda that the First Order takes no prisoners. I’m not even getting punished for what I did, I’m getting exploited to make a point, to act as some warning for years to come.” You were on the edge of your seat, ready to shoot into the ceiling.

Hux sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, watching you draw nearer to spilling over. He tsked, narrowing his eyes, confusion pinching his face. “What’s changed, officer?”

“What are you talking about?”

“In our meeting on the Finalizer, you seemed unphased by the prospect of losing your career. Now, it seems you’re fighting to stay here. Why is that?”

It was something you hadn’t considered. His question begged a truth you hadn’t yet confronted: you did want to keep your assignment. It was as much a revelation to you as it was to him, sending you back in your chair, replacing your rage with quiet shock. What had changed? A week ago you were actively trying to convince yourself you were okay with dying, but now it was all you could do to fathom the thought of merely losing your license. There had been so much anger residing within you; where had it gone? And why was Hux right?

”Oh,” you breathed, eyes fading into your memory.

You deserve to be here. Kylo Ren’s voice, soft in the night, echoed in remembrance; the figment of his past face cast is the celestial shadows remained vivid, a living memory, nearly tangible in its clarity. The admission had floored you when he’d first spoken it, and nothing had changed, still losing your ability to think straight as the words reverberated around your thoughts and stole your breath. You’d run from the bond in his words, too scared of their truth. But, that was just it; they were true. There was no ill intent hidden behind them, the only thing residing in them an unadulterated sense of reciprocated trust.

His words should have lost all meaning when he pulled away that night, although you’d pulled away first; but, here, before Hux, you knew that Kylo Ren was what had sparked the paradigm shift. He had pulverized your heart that night, and you still hadn’t fully recovered, but it was undeniable, even now: the reason you wanted to stay was because you’d realized your purpose – the worth you now felt in your position had been solely provided by Kylo Ren.

“What happened to not wasting t-,”

“I deserve to be here,” you said, echoing your master. “No, I want to be here. I have just as much a place in the Elite as Talia Harper does.” An incredulous laugh left you. “I deserve this.”

Hux, alarmed by your newfound fire, sat forward, leaning on his elbows and tenting his fingers. “Those are powerful words. But I suspect you’ll need a stronger defense when convincing your superiors to spare you.”

“I’m good at my job. I saved that man; I’m not wasting time trying to convince you of that fact,” you said, no longer affected by his attempts at intimidation. “They can watch me all they want. They won’t find anything but the fact that I am a damn good nurse who has effectively kept the Commander of the First Order alive and well with no assistance.”

Hux’s scowl had returned in all its glory. “We’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?” His eye twitched. “Later today you will receive an email informing you of all the expectations surrounding the trial. The dates have yet to be determined, but they are adamant in their desire to get this off their docket as soon as possible – for safety’s sake, of course.”

Unblinking, you stared back in silence, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. He continued. “You will need to arrange for travel, as the trial will be conducted on Canto Bight over the course of one to two weeks, depending on the judgement you receive.”

“Canto Bight? Why wouldn’t it be held here on Starkiller?”

“The Board of Physicians’ headquarters is located there. You should know this, although I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t at this point.”

Cracking inwardly, you needed to leave before you spewed hell fire down on him. Clearing your throat and squaring your shoulders, you steadied yourself before speaking. “I’ll keep an eye out for that email. Now, is that all? Am I free to go?”

His lips pursed. “For now,” he said. You got up and walked to the door. “But, remember officer, you are barely free from this moment on.” His eyes pointed to the upper corner of the room.

Sucking your teeth, you entertained him, tracking your eyes with his, finding a security camera angled down to you. Such an ass. “Have a nice day, General,” you said, slipping out of his view before he could get the last word.

The wide-open communal area of the Elite floor was even busier than last night, nearly double the amount of stormtroopers marching around. There also seemed to be an increase in employee population in general, the expanse buzzing with a constant influx of engineers, pilots and technicians. Maybe it was the fact you’d only been here during normal human hours once, only ever seeing the graveyard crowd when you’d reported for your shift, but every new encounter with the main functioning centers of the First Order painted a clearer image of the ever-rising tensions with the Resistance. There had been a few emails you scanned through mentioning an effort to destroy the Republic, but it never seemed pertinent to pay attention to them, feeling they didn’t have a direct effect on your life.

With your head tucked into your shoulders and your arms wound tightly across your chest, you walked into the thick of patrolmen, having no particular destination in mind. Halfway through your trek across the floor, your phone buzzed. Figuring your watch would have dinged if it was anything important, you kept your focus on making your way through the room. But it buzzed again, and again – urgent vibrations sounding through your uniform. Without breaking your stride, and keeping your head down, you pulled it from your pocket, seeing it was Mason.

Before getting a chance to read his messages, the screen lit up with his caller ID. You were in the dead center of the floor, everyone could see you, and though you wanted to be far away from the circling soldiers, it seemed safer to be visible than skulking in a corner; if Robbie were lurking around, he wouldn’t try anything so public. At least you hoped he wouldn’t.

On its last ring, you accepted the call. “Hey, Mason,” you said, peering around.

“Hey! Why did you call me last night? And sorry, Soto has me running forty-eights right now so I’m never around my phone,” Mason explained, grog in his voice, either just waking up or in the process of getting rest.

Last night flashed through your memory, recounting the damaged door, the scratch marks, the dents, the blaring red caution tape tying the terrorizing scene together; it quickened your heart, that feeling of all-consuming dread threatening to return in its entirety. The stiffness at your back pulled you back to reality, reminding you why you had called him. “Actually, I was wondering if I could stay with you for a while.”

The line stayed quiet for a moment, the bustling noises blockading you from hearing his tired breathing. “I mean, of course you can. You know that. But is there any particular reason? Is there something going on,” he attached your name to the end of the question, genuine concern rasping through his exhaustion.

“No, everything is fine, I’m…” The words came too fast, a defense mechanism you’d adapted to keep people from worrying about you. But this was Mason. He knew your tics.

“Spill. Now.” It was a demand, no hint of request in his tone, suddenly less tired than a second ago.

“I know, I do,” you said, pressing your hand against your forehead, scanning the room. “Do you remember that guy I told you about before leaving for the Finalizer?”

“I’ll kill him. What did he do to you? I swear, I - just give me a name and-,”

“Mason.” You chided him, feeling like his words would somehow attract attention. “You’re not killing anyone. Just – I went out with him the night I departed, and it… didn’t go as planned. Okay?”

“Sure, but what does that have to do with you not being able to go home?”

This was it. Telling Mason would only solidify your reality. “So, maybe it went a lot worse than planned. Like. A lot worse. And I think he may have broken into my place while I was gone, and I’m really worried that if I go home that he’ll come and, and…” Your throat thickened, anxiety stealing your words.

“Oh my God!” Your admission had infused his voice with alarm. “Yes, yes. Come here tonight. I’ll call out and we can talk. Okay?”

“Mason, you don’t have to call out. I know how important your residency is. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“You are important to me. And I don’t want you to be alone, not with some psycho out to get you.”

His words warmed you, feeling something other than stress or fear or anguish for the first time in months. But, before you could respond, he spoke with an urgency, realization overtaking him. “Wait. Where did you sleep last night? Oh my – I’m so sorry, I-,”

“Hey, no. It’s okay. You were working. You didn’t know, Mason,” you said. “I slept in the assessment room. It’s private and locked. I was safe. Please do not blame yourself for something you couldn’t control”

A long breath left him, audible even with the synchronized marching swirling around you. “You’re okay now, though, right?”

“I am… trying my hardest. I just really need a break from everything.”

“Well I’ll be all ears tonight. I can pick something up for dinner if you want?”

“Mason, you’re already being too kind by letting me crash. Thank you, again.”

“You never have to ask. My door is always open,” he said, grogginess creeping back into his voice. “Hey, before you go, could you tell me what this bastard is called? I need to assign a name to the violent things I’m imagining right now.”

It was the first true laugh, however short or quiet, you’d had in a while. “Oh, Mason,” you said. “His name is Robbie. Technically. I’ll get into it later.”

“What does that mean?” His last word was a yawn.

“Go to sleep. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

Another yawn resonated through the phone. “Fine. See you tonight. Love you.” He hung up, potentially falling asleep before he could put his own phone down.

“Good to see you haven’t forgotten about me.”

As if you’d gone back in time, that same unease tore into you, robbing you of breath and stealing your equilibrium. It was him. This was what you’d been dreading since before leaving. Behind you stood the most uprooting factor in your life – Robbie was within feet of you, the familiar modulation of his voice immobilizing.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he said, sauntering into your line of sight. “You’ve been gone so long,” he rolled your name off, violating as the syllables left his tongue, “I’ve missed you.”

The absence of food in your stomach was a blessing, knowing the adrenaline contracting your body would have ejected it from your system by now. The thoughts swirling around your head were an amass of chaos; echoes and amplifications of fear and impulses, conflicting in their commands – run! Don’t run! Punch! No, kick! Scream! Stay silent! It was all you could do not to fall forward, your knees trembling, readying to give out any second.

“Speak to me with that beautiful voice. I’ve been imagining it for months now, telling me how sorry you are for leaving me.”

What did you have to be sorry for? To him? Snapping your face to his, you snarled, chin trembling. “Excuse me? Sorry? I have nothing to apologize for.”

He hummed, the sound nauseating. “You’re so cute when you’re angry. Is this our first fight?” He circled your wrist in his armored hand. “Let me make up for it, baby.”

“Get the fuck away from me, you freak!” You growled, struggling against his grip, flinging your trapped wrist until it broke free. There was a lasting ache where his fingers had been anchored.

“Hey, hey. No need for hostility,” he said. “I’m just so happy you’re back.”

Your heart threatened to burst your carotids, pulsing angrily over your entire body. “Oh, you are? Why? So you can break into my apartment again? Maybe finish the job you’d had in mind before you realized I was gone? Hm?”

This got to him, his hands wringing at his sides as his posture hardened. “I hadn’t seen you, and you left without saying goodbye.”

“How would you know if I didn’t say goodbye? In my memory – which, by the way, is exceptionally clearer than yours of that night – you passed out drunk before I got the chance. Or do you not remember that?”

“You little bitch,” he barked, drawing the attention of the passing stormtroopers. “Who’d you tell, huh? How’d you get me fired from Ren’s detail?”

Defensively, you took a step back, distancing yourself from his reach. “You did this to yourself, Robbie.” Wanting to hurt him back, you pulled your claws out. “Oh, wait, please forgive me. I meant RB-6745. Forgot for a sec-,”

“My name is Robbie.” The words tore through his throat as he lunged forward, reaching out to you.

“RB-6745,” a voice called from behind him. It was Captain Phasma. “Why have you abandoned your station?”

She walked militantly towards you, her chrome armor glinting with flashes of white as she passed by coupled soldiers. Robbie’s hands clutched below his waist, her presence bringing reluctant resolution to his outburst. When he turned, your face fell from its tight contortion of fear, not having realized you’d flinched away from his incoming assault.

“I apologize, captain,” he said, irritated at her interruption. “I thought it was my break.”

Phasma stopped about three paces from you, staring between you and your masked mistake. “Commander Ren’s ex-charge has had trouble adjusting to maintenance duty,” she said, your reflection bouncing off of her chrome helmet as she addressed you, turning to Robbie before she continued. “Come. I’ll show you back to the engine sector, as you seem to have forgotten the route. Again.”

Phasma motioned Robbie to lead the way. He turned back to you, leaning down and bumping your side against his shoulder in his passing. “This isn’t over,” your name a curse on his lips once more.

Phasma stopped in front of you before following after him. “I didn’t come here with the intention of rounding up one of my men, but it seems I can kill two birds with one stone.”

Clearing your throat, you pulled your shoulders back, her presence commanding the respect that Hux’s never could. “Captain?”

“Commander Ren instructed me to inform you to meet him in his assessment room. He says it’s a pressing matter.” She marched past you, not waiting for a response.

You stood there motionless, still standing at attention, listening as she led Robbie away. It was easier to stay here, to forget what she’d told you and pretend that there was nothing waiting for you beyond the assessment room hatch. But there was. In your nervous rush this morning, more focused on being extra early for Hux’s meeting, you hadn’t thought to tidy up your temporary dwellings; the room was still made up with a loose cape draping over the exam table, two stray socks strewn about the room, and an open bottle of hydrogen peroxide – a makeshift mouthwash in leu of a toothbrush. And now a new addition – clothed in black, hands undoubtedly balled into fists – awaited you. There was a pressing matter, but it had nothing to do with Kylo Ren’s wellbeing and everything to do with your soon-to-be lack of.

Considering it was like wading through mud to break past the shrouds of stormtroopers, your nerves had already worn thin since stepping into the docking bay, but acknowledging how you’d left Kylo Ren last night – his flaming sword of rage swinging destruction around you – the journey back towards the med bay was not one of a casual stride. With a quickened pace the hatch came into view sooner than you’d hoped, simultaneously wanting to get there to explain yourself while also wishing the floor would swallow you whole so you wouldn’t have to deal with Kylo Ren’s theatrics. Within a couple strides, the door slid open, revealing the undeniable presence of your master.

“This’ll be fun,” you said under your breath, smoothing over your uniform with nervous hands.

Passing through the threshold, it whirred shut behind you, its motion sending a rush of chilled air over your legs, whipping the back of your skirt to the side. Kylo was on one side of the exam table, clutching the cape, one of his socks hanging loosely from his other hand. Hidden in his helmet, you could only assume the eyes boring into you matched the fury of his fist.

“There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this,” you said, tone hesitant and low, guarding against a reappearance of his lightsaber.

His hand stayed rooted in the cape; his warped voice venomously low. “Then explain.”

Staying close to the wall, you circled around him, leaning against the metal counter behind you, grasping onto the edges. “I had to sleep here last night.”

“That is evident, officer.”

“Okay. I couldn’t go home last night.”

“I can make you talk. You know this.” His hand lifted the cape, clutching it up to his chest.

Swallowing, the metal ridges of the countertop bit into your grip. It felt like admitting why you couldn’t go home was accepting a defeat, like he’d won the argument pertaining to your need for protection. You chewed your cheek, looking down at your feet and closing your eyes. “I did actually go home last night. I didn’t just stay here out of preference.”

“Then why?”

“When I got home,” you sighed, looking back over to him, “I found my place had been broken into. And I’m pretty sure I know who did it, and I didn’t feel safe sleeping there.”

“The stormtrooper,” he said, dropping the sock to the ground. “That’s who you think did it.”

“Uh, yeah. There was a maintenance report that said-,”

“A maintenance report?”

His interest surprised you. “Yeah, the lock had been tampered with and the door had been… defaced. Scratch marks, dents. And it had been reported a couple days after our departure for the Finalizer.”

“A couple days after seeing him,” his voice was eerily calm, like he was only trying to understand you.

You paused to look at him, analyzing the intent that remained hidden with his eyes. “And before I came here, before Phasma told me to meet you, I ran into him. Well, I don’t know if I’d describe it so casually, but nonetheless.”

His hand came back down, freeing the cape from his grip, letting it pile up on the table. “How would you describe it?” He began circling towards you.

It was too much to verbalize the fear Robbie had incited, wanting to pretend he didn’t exist. “I… don’t know.”

“You’re afraid,” he said, drawing closer with each careful step. “You think he’s watching you, stalking you like prey – that’s it, right?”

Swallowing, you wished he didn’t possess the ability to feel everything you did, pinpointing your emotions better than you could. You nodded, looking up to his visor, his frame working to consume yours as the distance closed between you.

His hands came down next to yours, brushing the sides of your pinkies with his gloved grip. He leaned down to you, his gaze centered on your eyes. “You can’t stay here again.” It wasn’t darkness in his voice, or even command; he was only stating what you knew as truth.

The sound of his muffled breathing flourished over your arms, your own breathing newly audible. “I know,” you swallowed. “I’m not. I figured something out.”

“Did you?” His hands dropped from the counter to wander over the fronts of your thighs, skimming his thumbs just under the hem of your uniform. “Tell me, where are you staying tonight?” He leaned into the crook of your neck, the brush of metal eliciting the heat of your cheeks.

You breathed out, his teasing touch evaporating your train of thought. “With a, with a friend.”

His leather-covered fingers rooted just below the curve of your ass, his thumbs sliding up and down, streaking sparks in their repetitive paths. “Mm, wrong answer.” Kylo dug into your thighs, tearing your feet from the ground, propping you up onto the chilled counter.

The metal bit at your skin, making you seethe at the contrast. He parted your knees so he could stand between them, tracing his hands over the excited skin; the warmth of his gloves washed over you, stealing your focus as they slipped under your skirt once more, his thumbnails dipping just under the seams of your panties. With a steadying effort, you gathered your thoughts. “What? How am I wrong?”

His breath was getting thicker at your ear, his unaltered voice trickling through the modulation at his proximity. “You’re staying with me.”

In the throes of his distraction, you distantly regarded your meeting with Hux, remembering the surveillance order hanging over you. “I can’t,” you said, reveling in the feel of his thumbs inching ever closer to the apex of your thighs.

“I’m not asking.” Your core throbbed at the nonchalance of his voice, so sure and casual.

At the stitching of your panties, he hooked two fingers below the thin fabric, dragging them perpendicular down your slit; his gentle petting caught your breath, pulling you from your defense. “I’m being watched,” you said, the words falling as your lungs did. “I have to at least appear professional.”

He hummed, the modulation vibrating down your neck. “Your trial. I thought you were fine with whatever consequences your actions presented.”

The tips of his fingers slid between your folds, pressing around your entrance, forcing a small moan from your lips. “I was,” you breathed.

The pressure at your entrance slid up your slit; his fingers rolled your clit between them, the seams of his gloves offering an additional friction over the sensitive bundle. His other hand pressed into the pliant flesh of your inner thigh, mindlessly kneading it while your lungs chorused for his touch. “Past tense. Why is that?”

The sensation of the rough leather slick with your want robbed you of words, feeling his other digits stroke over the outside of your folds as they tortured you with their leisure. “I realized,” you said, tone shaky, “I may deserve to be here after all.”

Just as you were when he’d said them, he was immobilized; both his hands stopped moving, relaxing and resting in place as his head pulled away from your neck, your core pleading for his action to resume. But he only stood there, staring at you beyond the mask, the indecisive path of his eyes evident over your skin.

“Where do you deserve to be?” His voice was low, the modulation cutting out subtly.

Grinding against his hand, begging him to commence his earlier advances, you gaped in front of him, gaze pointedly aimed into his visor. “You know where.”

His hand left your slit, forcing a snuffed whine at the absence of his touch. “Tell me, officer. Where is ‘here’?”

There was something irresistible about his teasing, sitting here, legs splayed to receive him; your chest rose, absorbing his hidden stare. When he lifted his hands to either side of his helmet, your heart picked up in anticipation, your blood rushing at the prospect of his enamoring face. The locks hissed and he ducked out of his confines, shaking his head to clear his face of any stray strands. Not taking his eyes from yours, he placed the helmet beside you.

He pulled at the fingers of his gloves, separating them from the tips of his digits. “I won’t ask you again,” his jaw wasn’t set, lips slightly lifted at the corners, twisted in the subtlest of smirks.

“Here…” You looked over his features, silently praising his freckles, in awe of how such a sweet feature could be present under eyes so haunted.

“Yes,” the tail end of your name rose in pitch, a question, lascivious and redundant.

“Here is,” your focus shifted down to his lips, heart fluttering faster imagining them against yours. “Here is with you, as your provider. Appointed by you,” your breath shuddered, his lips fluid before you, “under the First Order.”

He hummed, face sly as his brow raised and his chin pointed towards you, placing his gloves with his helmet and returning his touch. With his hands on either of your thighs, your body buzzed as your pulse took prominent residence between your legs. His head advanced so the tips of your noses nearly touched, his breath mingling with yours. Flitting between your eyes and your lips, his eyes held the same appreciation for you as yours did him. “It only took you a couple months.”

“What are you talking about?”

His thumbs pinched into the crease of your thighs, his fingers splayed over the curve of your hips. With his lips whispering against yours, short shocks lighting at each accidental meet, he closed his eyes, prompting yours shut immediately after. “To listen to me.”

He pressed his mouth to yours, lips soft as his need reigned unmatched; it was a collision, a bludgeoning, a massacre of every atom separating you in an attempt to brand his mouth to yours. The intensity residing in his fervor fluttered your heartbeat, your core surging with chaos to find his touch again. Without leaving your lips, he slid you away from the counter, your extremities binding yourself to him as he carried you to the exam table.

Your head fell back over the piled cape, smelling the leather below, admiring its owner above. With your knees framing him, his hands slid down your thighs as his lips fell to your jaw. “Are you going to keep listening to me?” He said, the words divided as his lips traced to your neck.

As he knelt forward on his knees, his arms clutched into the edges of the table at either side of your head, you reveled in the heated shelter of his body. Without prompt, your knees locked around him, wanting him closer, needing him against you. It was in vain, though, his strength too much to overpower. One of his hands reached between his legs, mussing with his belt and layered uniform.

“Tell your friend,” he said, seething as his cock sprang away from its constriction, “you found other plans.”

Peering down over your chest, you caught view of his length, bobbing as he moved over you. You swallowed, your hands gripped around the flexing muscles of his upper arms. “I can’t.”

At your ear, Kylo grunted, tearing away from you and sitting back on his knees. He looked over you, palming his erection, face blank while he gathered precum at his tip and smoothed it over himself. “Roll over, then.”

There was no emotion to his voice, flat as his face was. You pulled back your elbows and rested on them. When you opened your mouth to contest, his eyes flared in warning, a brow lifting to question if you really wanted to challenge him. Pulling your bottom lip into your mouth, you gathered your legs and turned over so your chest was against the exam table, face flat against the now warmed leather, hands at either side of your face.

“Better,” he said.

Behind you, his hands came down over yours, his nose tracing over the helix of your raised ear. “I’m going to make you cum on my cock, and then tonight, in my quarters, you’re going to have another lesson in obedience.”

He pulled away, quickly lifting your hips so your knees and forearms bore your weight, the leather slippery beneath your warmed skin. He stood on his knees behind you, flipping your skirt up and pulling your panties down to your knees. Your name was a praise from his lips, a stark contrast from when it had come from Robbie. “Always so wet for me,” he said, pushing a finger from your entrance and down to your raised clit.

You bucked into his hand, moaning, needing more. “Kylo, you have to understand, I ca-,”

His touch left you, but quickly came back with full force, smacking against your exposed entrance, a wet echo filling the room. Every muscle below your abdomen clenched, your fists balling at the sides of your head. “I do understand, officer,” he said, smoothing his hands over your ass, digging his fingers into your hips. “But you need to understand something yourself,” the pleasant presence of a familiar pressure grazed your entrance, stretching you in its tease. “I don’t care.”

He pulled back on your hips, sheathing himself against the tight, drumming walls of your core. A long, drawn out groan tied itself to an awe-inspired cry, garbling out into nonsense as he shattered your pelvis, splitting you open to receive his merciless length all at once. With your hips high and his hands locking them to his, your walls sparked around him, feeling him throb inside of you.

“It’s been too long since this pussy broke for me,” he seethed, even out of sight you could hear the strain of his jaw. “Fuck, I forgot how good you feel.”

He pushed your hips forward, sliding out of you, absorbing the feel of your walls’ compliance as he took nearly every inch from you. As he pulled out, your breath stuttered out in short pants, the hollowness tormenting as he’d just cracked you open. You whined into the table, sweat beading at your forehead, the palms of your hands sliding against the slickened leather. The head of his cock pulsed at the base of your core, stopping a moment before he rammed back into you, your knees sliding back with his force.

He bent at his hips, his chest molding to your back, the whispers of loose tendrils tickling your spine. A hand dipped down over your slit, two fingers running against your folds as he hummed behind you. “Where are you staying tonight, officer? Tell me.”

His voice was thick with breath, his words leaking onto your nape. A shiver bloomed goosebumps under his heat, the friction of his rough robes almost painful against your sensitized skin. No matter how he would try to convince you, there was nothing he could say or do that would change your mind. “Kylo, I can’t-,”

“Another wrong answer.” His other hand snaked over your throat, trapping any words that tried to leave. “You’re down for the count with no hope of winning. Give up, it’ll be a lot easier if you do.”

His hips began a rigorous tempo, slamming into you while his hand tied around your throat and his fingers slid into your slit, his frame completely devouring you, swallowing your body into nothingness below him. He used your throat for leverage, pulling back to meet his thrusts, grunts panting from his lips in beat with his hips. Every slam of his pelvis and swirl of his fingers catalyzed your release.

“You’re getting close,” he stuttered out between thrusts. “So fucking tight, coming undone – shit – breaking for me. Such a slut, and only for your master.”

Beneath his hand, you wanted to moan, to hiccup into the room how good it felt to have him rocking against you. Even though his effort was aimed towards your defeat, you basked in how full he made you, the dull sound of your skin slapping with robes, the squeaks of voice escaping in spite of his grip; you knew you couldn’t stay with him, but that didn’t keep you from wanting to.

“And you deny it, but you know it’s what you want – to meet me tonight, to have our lesson, to please me – don’t you?”

He lifted some pressure from your throat, a go-ahead for words. “Yes, I want that,” you panted. “I want to.”

“Yes,” he grunted, his thrusts becoming crazed, coming without a pattern. “Be a good girl, give into in.”

“I want to, Kylo,” you swallowed, sweat spilling from your brow. “But I can’t.”

“You can.” The hand maintaining your clit wound tighter circles, eliciting a searing need for release just beneath your skin.

“I, I – fuck – Kylo, I-,” you could only whine, your body pummeled with his rampant push towards your climax.

“Where are you staying tonight,” he hiccuped your name. “Say it. Scream it.”

Your walls were quaking, spiraling towards the abyss he’d opened inside of you. All of your senses were trembling, buzzing as you resisted his effort to send you flying over the edge. A pained whimper, filtered through tight teeth, left you, building into a more prevalent cry.

“Tell me!” He yelled, thrusting into you, hitting your cervix in time with his swipe over your clit.

“Fuck! With you, I- Kylo, with you!”

With his body wrapped around you, the simultaneous strike of your cervix and clit, and the pressure clouding your vision – you let go, falling into a riotous, convulsive, all enthralling pit of pleasure. The growl that had resided in your throat, the one that had evoked from your attempt at resistance, had evolved into an endless string of astonished praise; it was a song you’d never sung, yet as he lost himself behind you – his hands bracing on top of yours when he fell forward, crushing you underneath him – he sounded as you did, creating a chorus of cries, a melody only known to each other.

He breathed at your ear, panting rampantly, off-beat with yours as they came between his. The weight of his body consuming yours only aided in the afterglow, your breathing obvious as his chest tided on top of your own. Every now and then he would swallow, the hiccuped sound popping next to your ear as his chin bobbed against your back. The peripheral image of his hands covering yours an added prize to the already hazed satiety which had enveloped you. He laid on top of you as he softened inside of you, staying there for an immeasurable amount of time.

To your disappointment, you couldn’t stay there forever; he sat up, a wince leaving you as he slipped out. Behind you came the shuffle of clothing and the clamber of boots as he met the floor. You were still recuperating when he came into view, his hand – gloved, yet again – smoothing over your sweat-stuck strands. As you turned to your side, he flipped your skirt back down, covering you as his cum leaked out from your core and onto leather that lied beneath.

He pinched your chin up, prompting you to crawl up on your elbows, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Twenty-two hundred. You know how I feel about tardiness.” There was a regard of fondness as he looked over your sated body.

You could only respond with the nod of your head, peering up at him, admiring him for all that he was in this moment – a beautiful man who wanted you to stay with him. With one last swipe of his thumb over your bottom lip, he gathered his helmet, ducked into it, and left you sprawled about in your own company.

After a few minutes, watching the radar on your watch to ensure his distance, you allowed your guilt to swallow you whole; you had all but promised Kylo Ren that you would come to him tonight, and although you wanted to appease him, to be with him in such an intimate way as to lie next to him, you couldn’t risk your life for something as temporary as an afterglow or a rush. Tonight you would go to Mason, a welcome break from all life had thrown at you in the past twenty-four hours.