#;; from the updates... it seems we can get a sort of answer out of everything

[nahoney22]

Liar Liar (Part 1/?)

🫧 Part One - 79's

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female Reader.

🫧 word count: 5k.

🫧 Plot: When you meet a so-called clone named Whisky at 79's, you're a bit flustered with the impression he left on you. Little did you know that you were now caught in a web of Commander Fox’s lie.

🫧 Chapter Warnings: Safe for work, alcohol consumption, lying, teasing, flirting, Corrie guard antics, Fox is a little shit, grumpy. AFAB Female reader.

🫧 Authors note: Hi! So this is going to be a short story about reader and Commander Fox. Be prepared for lots of flirting, angst, crying, fun and eventual smutty goodness! Enjoy. I've also posted most parts to my AO3 account (NaHoney).

“You gonna join us tonight?”

You glance up from your work, eyebrows raised. “And that would be…?”

“79’s, of course!” Thire grins, slinging his arm around one of his brothers. “We need a break.”

“He’s right. I can’t remember the last time I had a night just to relax,” Hound chimes in, leaning casually against the wall, his helmet tucked under one arm. 

They look at you expectantly as you mull it over. You rarely went out—especially not with the boys—but the idea of unwinding at 79’s didn’t sound half bad. Besides, your friend Pia was working tonight, and catching up with her had been long overdue.

“Sure,” you say, nodding as you distribute the last of the data files onto the desks for tomorrow’s shift. “I’ll be there.”

The troopers exchange approving smiles. “Should we ask Fox?” Hound wonders aloud, glancing at his brothers before shifting his gaze to you.

“Why bother?” Stone snorts from the doorway. “He always says no.”

You roll your eyes but can’t deny the truth in Stone’s words. You’d overheard Fox turn down countless invitations. 

Anyway, he didn’t seem the type to let loose, especially with how rowdy the boys could get after a few rounds of Corellian ale. 

“I don’t see the harm in asking him again,” you reply, shrugging. “But yeah, he’ll probably say no.”

They leave you with the task. You finish tidying up, making sure everything is prepped for tomorrow. The clock ticks closer to 1900 hours, but Fox still hasn’t returned from the Senate. Deciding you’ve waited long enough, you gather your things and head for the door.

Just as you hit the button to open it, the door hisses apart, and you nearly collide with the broad red armor of Commander Fox.

“Oh!” You step back quickly, almost tripping over your own feet. “There you are.”

Fox enters, his usual confident stride noticeably subdued. He moves to his desk, his back to you, shoulders tense beneath his armor.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” you continue, hovering uncertainly near the doorway.

 A weary and almost impatient sigh filters through his modulator. “And why’s that?”

Something’s off. You’re used to his abrupt tone, but tonight there’s a heaviness to it that makes you hesitate with your answer 

“Everything okay, Commander?” Your tone softens, concerned as you ignore his question.

“Fine,” he replies curtly, glancing over his shoulder. When he sees the worry etched on your face, he sighs again, this time sounding more human than soldier. “It’s just been a long day.”

You offer a small, sympathetic smile. “Yeah, I can imagine. You usually don’t finish this late at the Senate.”

He turns fully to face you, leaning back against his desk. His arms cross over his chest. “I’ve finished later,” he says dryly. “Is everything sorted for the morning?” He then asks, changing topic swiftly.

“Yes, Commander. Everyone has their files, and I put through an order for more supplies.”

“Such as?” He presses.

You hold your tongue and maintain a neutral expression. Back to his grumpy self, it seems.

“Extra medpacs, ammo, and rations. They should arrive by 0900 hours,” you list off, trying to sound efficient and competent, even though his scrutiny makes your blood simmer.

Fox nods absently, his visor fixed on you. Then he starts rattling off a checklist of additional tasks. Everything from inventory updates, personnel reports, security drills. You bite back the urge to roll your eyes, wondering why he insists on making everything harder than it needs to be.

“Like I said, Commander,” you interrupt gently but firmly when he finishes, “I’ve taken care of everything. For you.”

The ‘for you’ slips out sharper than intended, and you can’t help the flicker of satisfaction when you see his posture stiffen slightly. Turning away, you head for the door, masking your irritation with a forced calm. Just before you step out, you hesitate, glancing back.

“I stayed because the boys wanted to see if you’d join us at 79’s tonight. I’ll tell them you’re busy.” 

Because ‘busy’ always sounds better than ‘tired’.

⋅⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅⋅

“There she is!” Stone cheers the moment he spots you, raising his glass in a mock toast.

You grin as you weave through the packed club, the bass of music thudding in your chest, lights flickering in shades of blue and violet. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol. Typical 79’s.

As you reach the group, a chorus of nods and smiles greet you. Thire, Hound, and a few other Corrie Guards stand clustered together, already a few drinks in.

“Lookin’ good.” Hound nods appreciatively, earning a playful jab from you but accepting the compliment regardless. It’s not often you dress up, after all and the shirt you bought last month was too cute not to wear.

“Surprised to see you all behaving,” you tease, eyeing Thire’s drink before shifting to the man himself. “Especially you. No table dancing tonight?”

Thire groans, rubbing his head like the memory physically pains him. “I thought we all agreed not to bring that up.”

“Too hard to forget.” You smirk. “Especially the part where you fell flat on your face.”

Hound chokes on his drink, while Stone grins over the rim of his own. “I swear, the look on his face right before he went down—priceless.”

Thire mutters something about betrayal under his breath but smirks anyway.

“So, I take it the Commander isn’t coming?” Hound then asks, shifting the conversation as he leans closer.

You bite back a smart remark, still holding a minor grudge from your last interaction with Fox. Instead, you just shake your head. “Nope. He was really busy. Lots of files to go through.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Stone mutters, downing another sip.

You nod along, but despite your irritation, you can’t shake the image of Fox’s slumped posture, the exhaustion practically radiating off him. Still, you push the thought aside and excuse yourself, heading toward the bar.

Sliding onto a stool, you drum your fingers against the bartop, scanning the crowd until a familiar voice breaks through the noise.

“There’s my girl!” Pia grins, practically launching herself over the bar to pull you into a quick hug. “It’s been forever!”

“Oh, I know,” you sigh, grateful for the warmth of her presence. “Work’s been eating up my life. I haven’t had time for anything.”

“Tell me about it,” Pia groans, throwing a rag over her shoulder. “I’ve covered four extra shifts this week. Four! I basically live here.”

“That’s rough.”

“I wouldn’t mind if the pay was half-decent,” she grumbles, before quickly turning to serve an impatient trooper waving a handful of credits. She hands him his drink with a pointed look before spinning back to you. “Anyway, let’s get you a drink.”

As she sets a fruity, colorful concoction in front of you, you instinctively reach for your credits, but Pia swats your hand away with the tiny umbrella meant for your drink.

“Absolutely not.” She tuts, popping the umbrella in your glass for extra flourish.

You arch a brow. “You sure?”

“Of course.” She’s already dashing off to serve someone else before you can protest, so you just shake your head with a laugh.

“Don’t expect a tip, then,” you joke.

“Wouldn’t expect one from you anyway!” Pia calls over her shoulder, grinning.

You take a sip, humming in satisfaction. Perfect, as always. As the straw hangs lazily from your lips, you scan the bar, looking for any more familiar faces—though, ironically, in a room full of clones, everyone looks familiar.

Then you spot him.

Across the bar, a clone sits alone, elbow propped up as he rests his head in his hand. He looks… tired. Maybe bored. Maybe just hoping no one will bother him. But there’s something about him that catches your attention.

Salt-and-pepper curls frame his face, the dim light emphasising the lines along his forehead. He wears his blacks, leaving his battalion unclear. But you can’t shake the feeling that you should know who he is.

Before you can think too hard about it, Pia appears in your line of sight, snapping you back to reality.

“So, how is it?” she asks, wiggling her brows.

You blink. “How’s what?”

“The drink, duh .”

“Oh.” You flush slightly, realising you’d been too busy staring at the mystery trooper. “Yeah, it’s great. Thanks.”

Pia beams at the praise before suddenly flipping off a customer who’s been aggressively clicking his fingers for service. “ I said I’ll be with you in a minute!” she snaps, before turning back to you. “So, who’s your company tonight?”

“The Corrie Guards, of course.”

Pia gives you a skeptical look. “Uh-huh. Well, do me a favor and make sure Thire stays off the tables this time.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Already warned him.”

As Pia busies herself with another round of orders, your gaze naturally drifts back to the clone across the bar. For a split second, you swear he meets your eyes, but Pia keeps unintentionally blocking your view.

“Hey! When am I gonna get my drink?” the same customer whines, earning a spectacular eye-roll from Pia.

“When I’m done talking to my friend .” She smiles sweetly, almost menacingly.

“You’re not even serving her anymore! You’re just chatting!”

Pia glares at him. He promptly shrinks back in his seat.

You take another sip of your drink before nodding toward the lone clone. “Say, do you know who that is?”

Pia grins knowingly. “Obviously. That’s—”

“Listen, lady, I just wanna get a drink and—”

“Kriff, fine ! Fine! ” Pia throws her hands up, stomping over to the persistent patron.

You sigh as she gets pulled away, your curiosity about the mystery trooper left frustratingly unanswered.

You try not to keep stealing glances at him, but there’s just something about him. It’s distracting. 

Maybe it’s the salt-and-pepper streaking through his curls, maybe it’s the way his shoulders hunch, like he’s carrying the weight of an entire day on them. He’s got that whole brooding, don’t-talk-to-me aura, which—ironically—only makes you more curious.

And, apparently, more reckless.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab a napkin from the dispenser and fish a pen out of your purse. You hesitate, pen hovering over the flimsy paper. What do you even write? Something casual? Flirty? Mysterious?

You roll your eyes at yourself—definitely overthinking it. Finally, you scribble down:

You look lonely. I can fix that.

As soon as you read it back, you cringe. Too forward? Too suggestive? Maybe you should—

Nope. No time for second-guessing. You fold the napkin before you can change your mind. Pia is still swamped, barely keeping up with the sea of 212th troopers ordering drinks, but thankfully, a server droid hums by.

Perfect.

“Hey,” you beckon it over, glancing toward the clone across the bar. “Can you take this to him?”

The droid gives a curt beep. “That is not my function.”

“Oh, come on,” you groan. “It’ll take two seconds.”

“Then do it yourself.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’ll tell Pia you need rewiring.”

The droid snatches the napkin without another word, wheeling off toward the clone.

Your stomach knots as you watch it place the note in front of him, then—completely unhelpfully—point directly at you. Great. You quickly avert your eyes, suddenly regretting everything.

But you still sneak a glance from the corner of your eye.

The clone straightens slightly, unfolds the napkin. Reads it. Pauses. Then, without a flicker of reaction, folds it back up and finishes his drink.

And then… he stands.

Your stomach drops. Oh. That’s it, then. He doesn’t even look your way as he walks off, disappearing into the crowd.

You exhale, a mix of relief and secondhand embarrassment washing over you. You swirl the ice in your glass and mutter to yourself, “Well. Won’t be doing that again.”

A voice speaks up behind you.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

You turn on your stool, and—oh.

The clone from across the bar is now standing right in front of you. Tall. Broad. Close.

Heat creeps up your neck. Your mouth suddenly dry.

“…Yeah,” you manage, a little breathless. “Kind of surprised, actually.”

“How come?” He gestures to the empty stool beside you, waiting for your nod before he sits.

“You looked like a man who didn’t want to be bothered.” You take a sip of your drink, hoping it steadies you.

“And yet, you were bold enough to send a note,” he muses, lips curving just slightly. “Very sweet.”

You giggle, shrugging as you set your glass down with a soft clink. “You don’t know if you don’t try.”

His amusement lingers. “Looks like it paid off.” He chuckles, then tilts his head. “Can I get you another drink?”

“I’d like that, thank you.”

He signals for another round, ordering one for himself, too.

“So,” you begin, tilting your head, “I haven’t seen you around before. What battalion are you with?”

The clone pauses just a fraction too long before answering, “Coruscant Guard.”

Your brows lift. “Oh? Me too! I feel like I would’ve noticed you… what’s your name?”

Another brief hesitation. Then: “Whisky.”

You arch a brow. “Whisky?”

“That’s right.” He nods, taking a deeper sip of his drink. There’s a flicker of nerves in his expression, but you don’t press. “Big whisky fan.”

You chuckle. “Fair enough. Cool name.”

“And yours?”

You offer your name along with your hand, flashing a bright, playful grin.

For a moment, he just looks at you. Then, he places his hand in yours. His palm is warm, his grip firm but careful.

“Lovely name,” he murmurs.

His voice is smooth, just a little too low, and it sends a surprising shiver up your spine. There’s something about the way he holds your hand—like he’s not sure if he should, but doesn’t want to let go, either. The earlier nervousness is gone, replaced by a small, amused smirk.

And you?

You’re intrigued.

Still, you release his hand before yours can get clammy. “So, the Corrie Guard?” You lean back slightly, studying him. “I still feel like I should’ve seen you around.”

He clears his throat, taking another long sip. “I’m not exactly frontline.”

That explains it. “What department?”

“Mechanic.”

That really explains it. You nod, feeling a little sheepish. “Ah, that’s probably why. I love working with my boys in red, though. They’re good to me.”

“Good,” he says, then hesitates. “So, uh… what’s the Commander like?”

You blink. “Fox?”

He nods.

You smirk, turning away slightly as you consider your answer. A hundred words come to mind—moody, buzzkill, abrasive, miserable, exhausted…

“Grumpy,” you settle on, swirling your drink. “Big grump.”

He chuckles. “Can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, but he is.” You huff, thinking back to earlier that night. “But… he works hard, so sometimes the grumpiness is excused.”

“Sure,” Whisky nods, idly swiping at the condensation on his glass. He hesitates again. “He… does he treat you okay?”

You arch a brow, amused. “Why? You planning to put in a word for me?”

The teasing is lighthearted, but Whisky seems oddly stiff about it. You wave it off before he can dwell. “He’s okay,” you say simply. “He just gets under my skin sometimes. I don’t think he means to.” You sigh, taking another sip before turning back to him. “You know him?”

He shakes his head, then drinks. “Nah. Just heard he can be a little hard on people.”

You hum. “You got that right.”

You don’t notice the way Whisky shifts in his seat, rubbing a hand through his hair, his eyes dropping into his glass. He’s quiet, thoughtful—until you break the silence again.

“Actually,” you say, warmth from the alcohol making you bolder, “I know a secret about him.”

He raises a brow. “You do?”

You giggle and scoot closer, lowering your voice. “I’ll tell you but you have to keep it between us.” You hold up your hand, pinky extended. “And all my promises have to be pinky sweared.”

Whisky stares at you for a second, caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. Then, with a small smirk, he hooks his pinky around yours. “Alright. Spill.”

“So, about a year ago, I was in the office, sorting files or whatever. I came across one of his, and being the amazing worker I am, I marched right up to him at his desk and dropped it in front of him.” You start grinning, the memory as vivid as if it happened yesterday.

“And you know what he said?”

Whisky watches you closely, his gaze flickering to your lips as you lean in, your voice dropping secretively. 

Closer, closer, closer…

“No,” he murmurs.

“Nothing.”

His brows draw together. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” you repeat, eyes alight with mischief. “Because he was snoring under his bucket.”

There’s a moment of silence followed by laughter. You tip your head back, giggling as you wipe a tear from your eye, and Whisky laughs along with you, shaking his head. It’s not even that funny, but the irony of it is too good.

“He always tells us to work harder, no time for rest,” you say, rolling your eyes. “And there he was, sleeping on the job. And it wasn’t even the first time! He sleeps upright, so it looks like he’s just watching us. But nope. Out cold.”

“So he’s a slacker?” Whisky smirks.

You shake your head. “No, not a slacker. He works hard. Really hard.”

“But you didn’t wake him?” He eyes you curiously.

“Nah. He barely gets any rest as it is, so I let him sleep.” You glance at Whisky, smirking. “Besides… it’s kinda cute.”

Whisky watches you closely, his lips twitching at your laughter, but his eyes seem to linger on you a moment longer than necessary. He swirls his drink idly, then asks, “You think he’d be mad if he knew you caught him slacking?”

You shrug, still grinning. “Maybe. But what’s he gonna do? Fire me? I know he’s my boss but those lot won’t function without me.” You laugh. “Besides, I doubt he gets much rest, so I let him sleep. Figured he needed it.”

There’s something in Whisky’s expression that shifts—just slightly. His fingers drum against his glass, his posture relaxing, but you catch a flicker of something you can’t quite place. It’s gone as soon as it appears, replaced by that same amused smirk.

“Didn’t take you for the sentimental type,” he muses.

You roll your eyes but smile.“It’s not sentimental. Just… practical.”

“You like him,” he says. It’s not quite a question, more of an observation.

You hum, tilting your head. “I admire him,” you correct, swirling your drink. “Fox works harder than anyone I know. He doesn’t just give orders—he takes the weight of everything on his shoulders. Every mission, every casualty, every prisoner, every mistake. And I don’t think anyone really sees that.”

Whisky watches you carefully, listening.

You sigh, resting your elbow on the bar. “I just wish he was… a little nicer, sometimes. He’s got a good squad. I mean, the guys look up to him. I think if he let himself relax, let himself be one of them instead of always keeping himself separate, they’d follow him even harder. But he never does.” You exhale, shaking your head. “I dunno. It’s not my business, really. Just somethin’ I think about.”

Whisky is quiet for a second, “Maybe he doesn’t know how,” he says finally.

You pause. “Yeah,” you murmur. “Maybe.”

A small smirk tugs at his lips, but it’s softer this time. “You’re a bit of a softie, huh?”

You scoff, playfully nudging him with your elbow “Shut up.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s not a bad thing.” He takes a sip of his nearly empty drink, eyes flicking over you. “You care about your squad.”

“Of course I do,” you say, as if it’s obvious. “I spend all my time with them. They’re like family.”

Whisky hums, contemplative. He watches you for a moment longer before he shifts in his seat, leaning a little closer, his arm brushing against yours.

“So,” he says, voice dipping lower, more conspiratorial, “if Fox is the grumpiest, who’s your favourite?”

You huff a laugh. “Oh, come on, I can’t answer that.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I pick one, I’ll have to deal with the rest of them whining about it for the next month.” You shake your head. “I’m not walking into that trap.”

Whisky grins. “Smart.”

You take a sip of your drink, then tilt your head at him. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re in the Guard, too. You’ve gotta have a favourite.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second—so quick you almost miss it. Then, he smirks. “Can’t say I’ve thought about it.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Liar.”

He chuckles, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he taps the side of his glass. “Alright, fine. Who gives you the most trouble?”

You groan dramatically. “Thorn . Hands down.”

Whisky raises a brow. “That bad?”

“He’s so smug,” you complain, exasperated. “He knows he can get away with murder because he’s one of Fox’s best. And he loves rubbing it in my face. I’d also argue Stone because he’s cheeky but Thorn can be devious if he wants to be.”

Whisky chuckles. “Sounds like a menace.”

“Oh, he is ,” you confirm. “But I can’t even be mad about it, because he’s also stupidly good at his job. So I just have to suffer .”

He leans in close. “Poor thing.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Don’t patronise me.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” His voice is smooth, teasing, and— Maker , his eyes are intense when they settle on you like that.

Your breath catches slightly, but you mask it with another sip of your drink. The air between you has shifted—still playful, but heavier now, charged with something unspoken.

You clear your throat. “So, Whisky,” you say, changing the subject. “Tell me something about you .”

His smirk lingers, but there’s a flicker of something else behind it. “What do you wanna know?”

You tap your fingers against the bar, pretending to think. “Mmm… what’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done while on duty?”

Whisky chuckles, shaking his head. “Now that’s a dangerous question.”

“Oh, come on,” you nudge him. “I won’t tell.”

He eyes you for a moment, considering. Then, he leans in slightly, voice lowering just enough to send a shiver up your spine.

“Alright,” he murmurs, “but if I tell you… you owe me another secret in return.”

You grin. “Deal.”

And just like that, the night stretches on and the hours slip away without either of you noticing.

⋅───⊱༺ 🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

It starts with secrets, little things at first. Just small confessions that wouldn’t ruin you if they got out. 

You tell him about the time you ‘accidentally’ shredded a report you were supposed to file, and how you spent half the day trying to piece it back together before finally giving up and blaming it on a faulty data pad. Or how you once snuck into the supply room after hours because Thorn had been too busy to eat, and you stole rations for both of you under the pretense of ‘inventory control.’

Whisky listens with quiet amusement, the occasional smile flickering across his lips as he watches you talk. He’s not a big sharer. His own stories are vague and kind of always deflecting back to you. But when you mention your upbringing, your life before the Republic and the war, he leans in slightly, genuinely intrigued.

“You ever think about what comes after?” you ask at one point.

His brow furrows slightly. “After?”

You nod. “Yeah. Like… what happens when the war ends? What do you want to do?”

For the first time, Whisky hesitates—not the way he had before, when he seemed like he was choosing his words carefully, but like he’s genuinely never considered it. 

“You don’t have to answer,” you say quickly, suddenly feeling bad for asking as he stares into his drink.

“No, it’s not that.” His voice is quiet. “I just… don’t know.”

The admission sits heavy between you, and before you can say anything else, he shifts the conversation.

“What about you?”

You exhale, leaning back against the bar. “Dunno.” You smile a little, but it’s laced with something soft and wistful. “I’d love to travel. See what’s out there, you know? Maybe settle somewhere quiet. Own a little shop or something.”

He studies you. “You’d leave Coruscant?”

You huff a small laugh. “Wouldn’t you?”

He doesn’t answer.

The music has quieted now, the heavy bass that once thrummed beneath your feet nothing more than a distant pulse. The strobe lights have stopped their restless dance, leaving the room bathed in the softer glow of overhead fixtures. It’s only then that you realise most of the patrons have left.

You turn back to Whisky, surprised to find him watching you. There’s something unreadable in his expression, something quiet and intense.

“What?” you ask, tilting your head.

“You’re really beautiful.”

The words catch you off guard. You blink, lips parting slightly before you shake your head, laughing softly. “You don’t know me.”

“Do I have to?”

You frown slightly, not in offense but in confusion. “How can you find a person beautiful if you don’t know them?”

Whisky exhales a small laugh, looking down briefly before meeting your gaze again. “I… you look beautiful,” he says, voice steady but soft. “And the way you talk about your family, about your squad… it’s nice.”

You watch him before smirking a touch. “You’re not too bad yourself, handsome.” Your voice is teasing, but there’s warmth beneath it, something genuine that makes his grip on his glass tighten.

He smirks however, trying to play off your compliment. “That means you think all my brothers are handsome.”

You hum in mock consideration, swirling the last of your drink. “Maybe so…” You take a slow sip, then let your eyes meet his again. “But maybe I find you the most attractive.”

There’s a shift between you, a flicker of something deeper in the way he looks at you—like he’s memorising the moment, the words, the way you say them. His lips part slightly, a breath drawn in like he’s about to say something, but then—

“Kriff.” You sit up straighter, suddenly glancing at the time. “I’ve gotta get going! If I don’t sleep tonight, I’ll be late, and the last thing I need is to miss one of Fox’s drills.”

He reacts almost instantly, standing when you do, setting his drink down. “S-sure, no problem. Do you want me to walk you home?”

“I’m taking a cab, but thank you.”

Still, he follows you out, insists on making sure you get into one safely. Outside, the night air is crisp, cool enough to make you shiver. You wrap your arms around yourself, exhaling. “Knew I should’ve brought a jacket.”

Whisky chuckles, stepping a little closer. “I could warm you up.”

The words hang between you, charged, almost daring. You tilt your head at him, amused. “Bold offer.”

He grins. “It’s there if you want it.”

A cab hovers down in front of you, and he opens the door, but you hesitate. Looking up at him, you smile softly. “It was really nice meeting you, Whisky. I hope to see you again sometime.”

There’s a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze, but he nods. “I’m sure we will. Sooner than you think.”

You don’t quite understand what he means, but there’s a thrill in the mystery of it. He holds out his hand, and you roll your eyes playfully, swatting it away. “I’m not shaking your hand goodbye.”

Before he can ask what you mean, you step closer, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. You linger for just a second, enough to feel the way he tenses, the way he barely exhales.

When you pull back, you smirk. “Goodnight, handsome.”

He inhales sharply, watching as you step into the cab. His voice is quiet, soft.

“Goodnight… beautiful.”

He stays there as your cab lifts off, watching until it’s out of sight. Then, with a deep breath, he turns—only to hear someone calling his name.

His real name.

“Fox? Fox! We didn’t know you came out tonight! Where have you been?”

Thire stumbles toward him, voice slurred, movements a little too loose. Fox rubs the back of his neck, shrugging. “I’ve been busy.”

Thire squints at him, blinking blearily. “Busy, huh?” He lets out a slow, knowing grin. “Didn’t take you for the social type, Commander .”

Fox huffs, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m not.”

His brother wobbles slightly, throwing an arm around Fox’s shoulders. “Right. So where were you?”

Fox debates answering honestly for all of two seconds before shaking his head. “None of your business.”

Thire gasps dramatically, pointing at him. “ Oh. So it’s like that ? You sneak off, disappear for hours, come back looking all—” he waves his hand at him vaguely, “— not miserable… You met someone, didn’t you?”

Fox sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Go back to the barracks, Thire.”

But his brother is relentless. “ You did! ” He stumbles back a step, laughing. “Oh, I gotta know. Who is it?”

Fox shakes his head, a rare smirk tugging at his lips. “Go. Now.”

Thire groans, rubbing his face. “Fine, fine. But I swear , if I see you all giddy at work tomorrow, I will find out.”

Fox rolls his eyes. “Go sleep it off.”

As he stumbles away, still muttering about Fox meeting someone , the Commander exhales slowly. He turns back toward the sky where your cab had disappeared, rubbing his jaw where your lips had touched his skin.

He should feel guilty. He should feel stupid for going along with it, for making up a name, for listening to you talk about him without you even knowing.

But he doesn’t. Not yet, anyway. 

Instead, he just wonders what he’ll do when he sees you again.

🦊 Part Two Here

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[jazziejax]

𝐀 𝐍𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Dev-Em x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - 𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩𝐬, 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - flirting, mentions of sex, unknown world confusion, slight jealousy, and I tried to make this a slow burn but I might be a little fast with the way I’m going, idk

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I know it’s been a minute, I KNOW YOU WANT A BAD BOYS UPDATE, but I’m collecting more so I can release two at a time. Plus, I’m lowkey in a Snowfall moment right now and trying my best in to write for Franklin Saint/Damson Idris because once I’m in the mindset of the drug game, it’s hard to get out of. (I’m so dramatic 🙄) Imagine Leroy and Giorgio who you want, i had Danny Glover and Joey Bada$$ in mind. UNEDITED, sorry for any spelling errors and grimmer issues, I don’t like re-reading my own work :(

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 8,096+

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - ᯓ★

“So, we need to get some sort of story in order before we see Uncle Leroy.” She said, her flyaways blowing within the wind.

The golden sunlight of Louisiana filtered through the dense canopy of oak trees draped in Spanish moss, casting dappled shadows on the winding dirt road. Magnolia had one hand on the steering wheel of her old pickup truck, the other tapping nervously on the door of the open window. The ride was silent the majority of the time it took them to get to Leroy’s. Dev’s eyes were trained out of the window, jumping between all of the different things he could as they went from the scarce homes of the countryside to the French-style city. He would see the occasional stray dog that ran with some others as they raced for scraps or a stork rise for the waters and fly off.

Magnolia would glance over now and then, watch as Dev leaned forward slightly, his piercing eyes scanning everything outside with the intensity of someone cataloging the world for the first time. She assumed speaking would snap him out of his thoughts, but his gaze was focused intensely out of the window.

“You don’t blink much, do you?” Magnolia asked, squinting over at him out of the corner of her eye.

Dev turned his gaze to her at that, his expression calm but curious. “Blinking is inefficient when observing. I might miss something important.” She stated.

“You sound like some sort is soldier.” She said, letting out a small chortle. She glanced over at him to see his eyes flicker away from her, his jaw flexing quickly as he trained his eyes out of the car again. She could see that her statement hit a nerve, so she just awkwardly cleared her throat. “Well, now that I have your attention.” She began as her fingers flexed on the wheel. “When we get to Uncle Leroy’s, just let me do all the talking, okay? He’s old and suspicious of everything so there will be a lot of questions and I don’t want his mumbo jumbo to confuse you.” Her words only caused Dev to furrow his brows slightly, glancing over at her.

“Mumbo Jumbo?” He questioned. Magnolia just blinked at him. “Right.” She said. “Uh, forget that. Let’s just get our story straight, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Um….”She trailed off as she thought, tapping her fingers against the door her arm rested on. “You’re a friend from college!” She stated, glancing over at him with a nervous smile. “We can say you’re in the military and you just got back from deployment and needed a place to stay.” She said with a grin.

“Why would I choose to stay with you?” Dev asked, blinking over at her. Her grin faltered slightly as she glanced from the road and over to him. “Because we’re college friends?” She asked herself more than she answered him, thinking over the logic of their plan.

“Why wouldn’t I stay with family?” Dev continued.

“They’re dead,” Magnolia stated simply with a shrug, not taking her eyes off the road as her grin appeared again since she came up with another take that seemed to fit their plan. “See, it checks out now.” She stated, not charging the way Dev’s eyes seemed to dim. His jaw tightened as he focused his eyes down at his hands, which were clenched together in his lap as he tried to keep his composure. “That won’t be too hard for me to adjust to.” He stated plainly. Magnolia glanced over at him due to his deep tone, deeper than usual. It was filled with dread and anger, although it was masked to seem like average indifference.

She blinked once she registered his words, her gaze returning back to the road. She internally cursed herself out for being so forward. She felt her heart clench as she thought it over again and again in her mind. He was so lost, in a strange world with no family. Everything was unfamiliar to him and he could barely remember how he ended up here. He was helpless. And she wasn’t making it any better.

“Well, let’s just scrap that all then.” She stated softly. “It wouldn’t make much sense for you to be in the U.S. military anyways with your accent and all.” She said, turning her head to look out of her driver-side window as she cringed again as words kept slipping out of her mouth. She didn’t mean to keep bringing up how different he was and his home but she couldn’t help it. They are coming up with his background story after all, so they don’t have to explain that he fell from the sky in some unknown object.

“We’ll just say that you’re an exchange student, in a way but still a college friend.” She began again. “You’re here to gain the full American experience, the one you didn’t really get in university since you were always on campus, and I’m your host.“ She looked over at him for any sign that she probably said something wrong again, only to be met with a simple nod from him. She subconsciously copied his actions before turning back to the road, engaging them in another moment of silence.

Magnolia wanted nothing more than to apologize. She felt that she always seemed to say the wrong things to him. She didn’t really know how to house anyone despite being the southern belle people assume she is because she bakes pastries at her friend’s cafe. So add not only a stranger but an alien, a hot alien that crashed into her backyard….She felt that she was owed the right to be a little confused and on edge.

She also couldn’t describe this strong pull she felt towards him. She felt this urge to care for him and be there to get him to open up some. Dev gave off this strong and intimidating aura, but she could see right through it with every little move he made. Granted, maybe everything she was thinking and feeling was the after-effects of the crash. It’s not every day something like that happens and it’s probably some reverse Stockholm syndrome. And it also could do with the fact that she was a decent human being and would always help another in need if she could But she hasn’t felt this sort of pull to anything or anyone besides Mufasa when she found him in the rain outside of work three years ago.

This entire situation was doing nothing for her lack of social cues and anxiety.

They rode the rest of the way to Uncle Leroy’s clinic in silence. Dev continued to observe everything around him, taking in all details he noted as worthy while Magnolia raced in what she would say next and whether or not it would lead to thoughts she didn’t want him to have.

Once they pulled into the parking lot of the clinic which was surrounded by other businesses, Magnolia stopped the car. “Follow me.” She said as she gathered her bag and then hopped out of the dark, unknowingly slamming the large metal behind her. Dev followed with no question, almost taking himself out as he tried to hurry after her and forgot he still had his seatbelt on. Magnolia turned around when she heard a soft strangled noise, but only saw Dev exit the car and quickly close the door behind him before fixing his clothes. She just simply shook her head, thinking it was nothing.

The bell above the door chimed as the pair walked in, Magnolia in front of him. He followed her to a small counter where he could see a woman sitting behind a computer, typing away. “Hey, Jess.” She looked up at the sound of the bell, offering a small smile to the familiar face of Magnolia, but doing a double take at the unfamiliar man behind her.

“Hey, Magnolia.” The woman said as she ceased her typing and once between the two. “What’s up with you today? You don’t have an appointment.”

“Oh, I know,” Magnolia stated nonchalantly. “I just need a walk-in for my—.” She paused mid-sentence as she glanced over her shoulder, expecting to find Dev in one of the available lobby seats, but was met with the sight of the man’s broad chest directly behind her. Her eyes quickly bounced up, catching his eyes when he looked down at her. “My friend. He’s new to…well, the country.” She added as she looked back over at the woman behind the desk, letting out a small laugh at the end. Dev looked back at the woman as well, giving her a polite smile. “Hello.” He said.

And it was as if the sound of his voice ignited something within the woman, causing her to let out a giggle as she looked at him. “Hi.” She grinned, not taking her eyes off of him. Dev blinked at her, his smile only faltering slightly at the woman’s odd behavior. Magnolia's brows twitched, looking at the woman who was no longer paying her any attention and cutting her eyes to the tall man next to her who seemed to be a little uncomfortable.

After flicking her questioning gaze between the two for only a few seconds longer, she cleared her throat. “Jess?” She said.

“Yeah?” Jess responded her eyes only momentarily leaving Dev’s figure to look over at Magnolia as she bit at her lip, trying to keep her grin at bay.

“We’re gonna go to my uncle's office, Kay?” She said, not even trying to set up a walk-in appointment anymore. She was going to lie and say the man knew she would be here but there was no point in any of that since the receptionist seemed more than occupied just staring at the man next to her.

“Yeah, sure.” Jess sighed, still looking at the man next to her. Magnolia blinked, trying to keep her words at bay as a sour feeling spread through her chest. She just gave the woman a sarcastic smile, not that she could even see it, before reaching back and grabbing ahold of Deb’s hand to pull him away.

Dev didn’t protest the feeling of the woman’s grip on him, only glancing down at the contact and up at the back of her head as she pulled him through the foggy glass door to their left. It was silent as she dragged him down the hall, passing rooms with doors open as waiting patients sat for a doctor and some closed as they convoluted over their meeting. Dev could feel the annoyance radiating off of her Magnolia as she led him through the hall of the small clinic. He couldn’t tell what had her angry, but by the way, she gripped his hand and the small frown he saw before she turned her back to him, she was a little ticked off.

She composed herself when they got to a wooden door near the end of one of the halls she led them through. The name ‘Dr.Jenkins’ was written on the foggy glass panel in gold ink and fancy writing. Dev watched as Magnolia took in a deep breath and then let it out, her eyes closed as she tried to gain a sense of herself back.

She then turned and looked up at him, trying not to jump back at the sight of his bright eyes already on her. “You ready?” She asked, her voice as soft as ever.

“Yes,” Dev said, giving her a single nod. Magnolia nodded herself before opening the door, not even caring to knock.

Her smile was large as she stepped into the room, Dev’s hands still in hers. “Hey, Uncle Leroy.” She said to the man behind the desk, who looked up at the sound of his door opening. The man had small, rectangular glasses sitting on the edge of his nose, looking over from the papers on his desk and over the frames to see them.

His face automatically broke out into a grin at the sight of the woman. “Hey, my little moon pie.” He said, his voice light and smooth with a scruffy undertone. He stood from the seat of his leather chair, and that’s when Magnolia finally let go of Dev’s hand, moving to meet the man halfway, around the large dark wooden desk, in a hug. Dev watched as she smiled largely as she wrapped her arms around the man, trying not to pay attention to the cold feeling that washed over him once her hand left his.

They rocked back and forth for a few seconds, savoring the embrace. They then pulled away from the hug with a breath, the older man looking down at the girl. “It’s been months.” The man began, a fond look on his face as she looked down at her. Magnolia let out a small sigh, looking aura from the man’s gaze. “The only time I hear from you is when I see you at church or work. We barely talk anymore.”

“I know, Lee, I know,” Magnolia said. “I’ve just been busy since..everything.” She said, sparing Dev a quick glance out of the corner of her eye when she paused. Dev caught on to what she was saying, but oddly enough he had a feeling she wasn’t alluding to him when she mentioned everything.

Her eyes cut to him and the man before her looked his way. The brown-skinned man's eyes scanned Dev up and down skeptically before his eyes drifted back to Magnolia only briefly. Magnolia avoided his eye, her lips pursed into an awkward smile as she gazed at Dev.

“Ah, so this is what’s kept you busy.” The man stated, before stepping around the woman. Magnolia gaped in shock at his words, tilting her head as she tried to decipher what he meant by that. Before she could question him, Leroy spoke back up, now standing before Dev. His shoulders were squared as he looked up at the taller man. Dev kept his ground, although he did shirk himself in slightly due to the man’s smaller but as well as intimidating stature. The younger man studied the older man before him, taking in his salt and pepper goatee that matched his small fro.

“And you must be?” Leroy said before holding out his hand. Dev placed his hand into his, each of their grips firm on the other. “I am Dev-Em, sir.” He answered. Magnolia silently winded when he said his name but quickly fixed it when Leroy furrowed his brows and glanced over at her. “Dev-Em?” He repeated back to the man, his tone giving way to his confusion.

“Deven!” Magnolia yelped, causing both men to look over at her. “Deven, you have to say your full name, silly.” She quickly added, letting out a nervous laugh as she eased her way over to stand back next to the new man in her life. Her smile was strained on her face and she hoped the facade wasn’t obvious as she placed her hand on Dev’s bicep. “Sorry about him, he’s getting used to the whole Southern Hospitality thing.” She said to Leroy as she glanced between him and the man she stood next to. Dev was confused by the ordeal taking place before him but just went with whatever the short woman next to him said. That is what she said in the car on the way over and he was following her orders.

“His name is Deven Embrose. He’s from the United Kingdom. It’s, like, a lil nickname thing they do over there.” She finished, her hand still connected to Dev’s skin, to which she gave a small pat.

Leroy nodded, placing his hands in his pockets as he gave the tall man another once over. “So I heard.” He said, giving a lowly gesture to his mouth as she referred to the other man’s accent. “I’ve met a few men from across the pond in my day.” He nodded. Magnolia let out another bout of anxious laughter, unknowingly leaning into Dev’s side more. Neither of them seemed to pay attention to the touch she was applying, but Leroy did glance between them suspiciously.

“Anyways!” Magnolia was quick to inject before more questions about Dev’s past could be asked. “I’m here because he needs a check-up.”

“A check-up?” The older man asked. “Why? What happened?” He questioned.

“Oh, nothing much.” Magnolia shrugged. “There was just…a tumble that..occurred.” She explained as nonchalantly as she could, making up a lie on the spot. Leroy furrowed his brows again, his eye dating between the close pair. His suspicions were loud and clear within his gaze, especially in the way he eyed the random man who was with someone he considered a daughter.

“A tumble?” He echoed.

“Yup,” Magnolia said. “It happened when we were moving his things in. He fell down the stairs with a large box in his hands.”

“Fell down the stairs?” Leroy questioned in shock, his eyes moving across the young man before him to gauge any serious wounds on him at such a serious incident. Magnolia was quick to interject his scurrying mind. “Not down all of the stairs! It was just a small tumble down, like, the bottom five. Right, Dev?”

“Yes.” The man replied with a firm nod.

It was silent for a moment, the younger duo standing close as they waited for the older man to speak.

Leroy just nodded, completely unsure and a little stunned by whatever was going in before him. He just subtly shook his head as he blinked. “Okay, well why don’t we just go to one of the available rooms and get this checkup started.” He said with a small grin. Magnolia nodded as she moved out of the way for Leroy to walk through and led them to the room.

Once he was out, Dev looked down at the woman who made her way out of the door before him.

“You’re..bad at this.” He murmured. Magnolia shot a look at him over her shoulder, taken back by his audacity. “What?” She said but didn’t have any time to respond before she stopped outside of the room Leroy did.

He clicked the lights on and gestured them into the space. “Have a seat.” He said as he moved over to the counters that held tons of average-grade medical equipment. The sound of rubber stretching echoed within the small room as Dev sat on the leather seat of the operation chair. The chair was pretty large but the big man that sat in it made it seem like it was made for his form. Magnolia stood near the chair, her stature putting her at the perfect height so that she didn’t have to crane her head to see Dev’s face clearly.

Her lips were pursed as Leroy turned around with gloves now on his hands and his stethoscope out of his white coat.

“Okay, now why don’t you just take a deep breath in for me.” He said as he stepped over, placing the bell of the tool on Dev’s chest. Dev did as he said, his chest lifting outwards. “Now, release.” Dev followed his instructions, breathing out. Leroy just let out a small hum before taking the tool out of his ear and hanging it on his neck. He then took out a pen-like flashlight from his coat pocket and clicked it on.

Magnolia stood off to the side, watching the whole produce as Leroy foaled the small light into Dev’s eyes, who flowed a little upon impact but did as the man instructed about where to look. Leroy stood with another hum, pocketing the pen. “Everything looks fine to me. I’d just need to run a few more tests before you can head out. Let me alert one of my nurses.” He said before stepping out briefly.

He came back only seconds later. “So, Deven.” He began in a questioning tone as he began to switch out his gloves. His cadence caused Magnolia to throw her back as she released a silent groan, her movement catching Dev’s attention. He furrowed his brows at her as he watched her go back to normal when Leroy turned back around. “What do you do?” He asked.

“Military, sir.” He stated, his eyes briefly jumping to the woman next to him, making sure he remembered their small conversation from the car. Magnolia’s brows twitched as she tried to keep them from peaking since she wasn’t all too sure if they had scrapped the whole military story in the car or not. She could’ve sworn they decided not to go with that idea. And while she was having a mini internal freakout, Leroy just nodded. “What branch?”

“The Navy.” Magnolia was quick to add since she was certain most of this wasn’t covered in their small conversation from the car ride over. “Marines, more specifically.” She nodded.

“But why are you here? In America?” The old man continued to question, not paying much mind to her interjection this time.

“I got injured.” Dev was quick to respond, taking the woman who had eased her way next to him aback. “It wasn’t severe but it caused a lot of physiological trauma so I retired. I also wanted a change of scenery and Magnolia offered to house an old friend.” He explained. Leroy’s stare was stagnant, never wavering from the man as he listened to his story. Magnolia was still quite shocked. Not only at his quick thinking but also the way her stomach fluttered at hearing the sound of her mane on his lips for the first time.

“Okay,” Leroy said. The pair just blinked at him.

“Okay?” Magnolia replied, her tone slightly questioning. “That’s it?” She asked. Leroy just nodded. “Yeah. I’ve known you a long time, so I know how careful you are. Plus, you’re a grown woman. I’m not gonna ask too many questions.” He stated. Magnolia just nodded, and she honestly didn't think she had it in her to be shocked by anything anymore. If anything, the last 24 hours have proved anything is possible.

“But I still do have to run these tests.” He said as he glanced down at his watch, just time for a nurse to push in the machine that would check his vitals and blood pressure.

It didn’t take them long before they were out of the door.

“That was stressful.” Magnolia sighed, her shoulder slightly slumped as she walked before Dev as the pair made their way back to the lobby, Leroy absent since he had an actual patients waiting on him. “I’m stressed. I need something sweet.” She groaned. She then glanced back over at the tall man behind her. “You want something sweet. Ya’ like ice cream? I could go for some ice cream.” She rambled as she opened the door that looked like the one they walked into earlier, however, this door led them out on the opposite side of where they walked into, to the right of the receptionist's desk.

“I do not know what that is,” Dev stated. Magnolia paused and turned to him, just staring at him as she tried to gauge any sight of a lie within his gaze. Seeing the plain look the man was giving her, just staring into her eyes with no questions asked, she then broke out into a grin. “Oh, Dev, sweetie, I have so much to show you.” She said, her soft southern drawl almost luring him into a trance as she placed her hand on his arm, subconsciously rubbing her thumb against his skin.

It was however broken by the sound of someone speaking.

“Hey.”

The pair both looked over at the sound of Jess’s voice, the woman’s eyes trained solely on the man in front of her. She stood from her chair, showing her dark purple scrubs as she leaned forward to the tall counter and pushed over a small card. “It’s for you.” She said, a sultry grin on her face as she didn’t hide the way she eyed the man before her. Dev’s brows spiked a little in interest, the man reaching over and picking up the small piece of paper to see it held an odd series of numbers.

Magnolia tried her best to hide the frown that began at her brows as she watched, her eyes jumping between the ever-stoic Dev and the thirsty receptionist, Jess. She didn’t know why, but she got this sour tang in the back of her throat at the sight of Jess’s obvious flirting. Whether it was the way she didn’t care to even ask more about Dev before throwing herself at him or the fact that she was doing this all on the clock, hell, even the possibility that she and Dev could be together. She couldn’t care less about the specifics when this woman was obviously throwing herself at him right in front of her.

Dev blinked at the small card before looking back up at her. “Thanks.” He said, no smile, not even a nod. He just held the white card stock up in acknowledgment. Magnolia softly scoffed before quickly turning on her heels and strutting out of the clinic, her bunch of curly hair swinging on the top of her head. Dev was quick to follow her, not even sparing the woman behind him a glance as she tried to keep up with the only thing he knew in his new life.

The bell above the door chimed as they exited the clinic, entering the blazing sun shining down on them even from under the awning. Dev could feel a source of every course through his veins as he stood in the light but didn’t have time to focus on it before he felt the small card be ripped from his hands. He watched as Magnolia ripped the paper into pieces and then pocketed the scraps. She then pulled her keys from her purse, all in silence as Dev simply watched her.

Due to the pause in the atmosphere, she looked up once she held her keys to her truck to see the man staring at her. “What? I don’t litter.” She said before turning from him and walking over to her truck.

Dev followed behind her as usual, getting inside the odd contraption as he did before. “What was that she’d given me?” He asked as he copied the way to put on the seatbelt from watching her, glancing back now and then to see if it was correct.

“Her phone number.” She replied.

“What’s that?”

“It’s the way we communicate here without being face to face. We write letters as well but that takes too long. But then again, we also have electronic letters such as emails and text, so, I don’t know.” She shrugged, her tone flat as she started the car and began to pull out. Dev nodded, taking in what she said at face value since she didn't seem too in the mood to offer more context. Something both of them didn't bother to question.

“Why did she give me her number? Aren’t you her friend?”

Magnolia scoffed, glancing over at him. “Hell no, I’m just nice to her because it’s the right thing to do. She’s just doing her job and she works for my uncle.” She shrugged again. “And she gave you her number because she don’t want nothing but to get in the drawls.” She scoffed again, her tone bridging in pissed as she gripped the steering wheel.

“What?” Dev asked full-on confusion written across his face as he looked at her, not even focused on his task of gaining information by observing his surroundings. Magnolia paused, glancing over at him to see the look he was giving her. “She wanted nothing more than to just sleep with you, Dev.” She said bluntly. “That’s why she gave you her number. So you could call, talk, flirt a little, go out, and then hook up.” She explained as if it was obvious. Dev understood most of what she was saying, but he was still sort of lost on some parts.

“Hook up? What is that, how do you hook up?” He questioned.

“Sex.” She stated. “Hooking up is sex. Mating. The act most things do to reproduce offspring.” For some reason, she had no trouble explaining such things to him. Even though it was sort of awkward because she never really had to have “The Talk”™️ ever in her life, especially with a grown man, and with the way he was staring at her so intensely. But it seemed to just flow out. This conversation would probably be their easiest because every culture and race had to have sex…right? That’s how they had to reproduce?

“Ahh.” Dev nodded once he understood what it all meant. He then frowned, as if thinking over it all now. “She wanted to mate with me? We wouldn’t even be compatible. Her genetic makeup doesn’t offer anything to mine.” He said. Magnolia squinted her eyes in thought, blinking as she registered the way he stated that in her mind. She opened her mouth to respond but came out saying nothing.

“Hey, the check-up wasn’t so bad, was it?” She chimed in after a moment of silence. Dev glanced back over at her, giving a silent nod before realizing she probably couldn’t see him. “It went well. Odd, but well.” He said. “You’re terrible at lying on the spot, though.” He added.

Magnolia opened her mouth to say something snarky at his comment, but could only let out a small sigh. “Yeah, I know. I get nervous when being put on the spot.”

“Your uncle is an interesting character.”

“Yeah, he gets that a lot. I say he’s a little nosy but he likes to call it cautious. My grandma used to blame his age but he’s been like that my whole life and I’m almost thirty.” She told, a fond grin making its way into her face as memories began to flash in her mind. Memories filled with the family she used to have and the good times she always thought of before closing her eyes at night for a good night's rest.

Dev could sense the newfound softness in her voice at the mention of her grandmother. He stared at her, watching the subtle smile grace her lips as she zoned off within the hum of the road. He wanted to question more about what seemed to be the connection between the old man and her but could tell it was a sensitive subject by every mention of her. That and whatever that small conversation between her and Leroy was before his presence was made known.

“So, you wanna try some ice cream or what?” She suddenly asked, glancing over at him. Dev simply nodded, causing her to grin as she drove to the perfect spot.

────୨ৎ────

Before he could even get to observe his surroundings, they out of the car and walking into another establishment that had a lot of windows. The bell above the door chimed again, causing him to look up. “Another bell. Why the bell?” He asked, following closely behind the woman as his senses became invaded with a plethora of smells and sounds. He blinked frantically with a small frown, trying to clear his mind of the loud noise that surrounded him.

“It alerts the staff that new customers have arrived.” He heard Magnolia’s voice speak over the chaos, and it was as if that was all he needed to snap back in. Honing in on the sound of her voice caused the other sounds around him to come to a halt, to the point where he didn’t even hear them anymore. “It gets annoying but diners tend to keep that traditional vibe for some reason.” She finished with a shrug. She gave the person behind the counter a large smile with a wave before moving her way through the diner.

The pair passed countless booths that held a variety of people, from kids who were full of sugar and agitating their parents to groups of teens who gossiped around the small devices in their hands. Dev looked around at it all while it seemed that Magnolia led them somewhere she wanted to go since some of the tables they passed were empty.

He stopped, watching her drop herself into a booth by the window, scooting in the middle of the seat. Dev followed suit, watching as she pulled the large menus from the little folder stand next to her and handed him one.

He copied her actions, looking at the variety of names in the list before him. Some held small pictures of the food next to its name, but majority of the list he had no idea what was. Except water and he wasn’t quite sure why that was on the menu since it held no price next to it.

“I have no idea what any of this is.” He spoke as he placed the menu down on the table with a little force, sort of fed up with being utterly confused by most of everything around him. Magnolia hummed, placing her menu down as well with a nod. “I figured. Are you hungry?” She asked.

“No.” He shook his head innocently, staring at her. “I ate quite a bit this morning.��� Magnolia let out a small chuckle at his words. “Boy, don’t I know it. I’m gonna have to go grocery shopping this week. I mean, I know I cooked it all but usually I have leftovers.” She said. Dev looked down, his eyes darting to his hands on the table. He couldn’t help but feel a little bad at that. That he was invading her space.

Magnolia’s smile faded slightly. She reached her arm across the table, placing her smaller hand atop his large ones. “Hey,” She said in a soft tone. She tilted her head down just as he looked up at her call, connecting his bright-colored eyes with hers. “I’m just pokin’ fun.” She stated with a mere grin. “I’m happy to have you in my home. I know have someone who can respond to the nonsense that I say.” She chided, causing him to let out a small chortle.

“You do talk a lot.” He stated nonchalantly. Magnolia blinked at his words. “Okay, ouch.” She said, but her smile was still there to let her know she wasn’t actually hurt by his words. Their small bonding moment was then interrupted by the sound of a voice coming up to them.

“Who comes to work on their day off?” The smooth voice of a familiar man spoke up, causing the pair to look over. A large smile instantly broke out into Magnolia’s features while she looked up at the man who made his way over to them, her hand unknowingly sifting away from Dev’s, that cold feeling enveloping him again just as it did at Leroy’s clinic.

“Someone who loves their job,” Magnolia said, looking up at him as he stopped in front of their table. The man rolled his eyes at her, pulling a notepad out of his coat jacket. “Yeah, whatever, kiss-ass. You just got a raise out of me. You’re not getting another this soon.” He said as he flipped the pad and pen in his hands.

“Oh, you’ll know when I’m kissing ass, G.” She said, causing them both to let out a small laugh. The man’s gaze then drifted to Dev, who eyed the obviously familiar pair with a subtly arched brow. The stranger held out his hand, his gold watch peaking from underneath the expensive brown suit he had on, the man standing out against the rest of the diner. “Giorgio Clarance, nice to meet you.” He introduced himself.

Dev placed his hand into his, both of their grips firm as they stared at one another. “Deven Embrose.” He said, speaking the name Magnolia made up earlier. It felt weird coming off of his tongue, unnatural. He just hoped Giorgio couldn’t tell.

The overdressed man hummed at his words. “Around the way type of guy, I see.” He said with a nod. “Cool.” He stated simply, giving the man a plain once over before directing his attention back to Magnolia. Dev furrowed his brows at the man’s dismissal of him, one that was a little hostile with the look he was just given. He tried not to read much into it, but he couldn’t help but question if he felt that Giorgio was throwing at him.

“He’s my boss,” Magnolia spoke up, seeing the questioning look on Dev’s face, thinking that’s what he was questioning. “He owns this place.”

“And others,” Giorgio added with a smirk.

“And others,” Magnolia repeated in a stupid tone, playfully rolling her eyes at him. Dev's eyes jumped between them. He nodded at what Magnolia told him “I’m a chef. Well, a baker.” She stated. Dev's eyes gleamed at that, and he was about to say something to her about her occupation before Giorgio cut in.

“A Chef.” He retorted firmly, looking down at her with a small frown. “What did I tell you about cutting yourself short? You are a chef.” He said, and Magnolia softly rolled her eyes at him again, looking down at her hands, though she couldn’t hide the soft smile on her face at his words.

“All I know how to really do is bake.” She said softly, looking up at Dev as if she was answering him. He could only offer her a polite smile back before her eyes drifted away and toward the man who stood next to them.

“You make amazing pastries for two a five start restaurants.” At this point, he had leaned down, slightly holding his weight on the table with his hands so he could be closer to Magnolia. Magnolia looked him in the eye, her face as neutral as it could be due to his praise. As if this proximity for them was normal as if they did this all the time and were fine. Dev, on the other hand, was not fine. He raised his hands from the table, leaning his back against the cushion leather seat of the booth. His brows twitched into a frown, staring the at side of the man’s head as his view of Magnolia was almost blocked. Almost.

“In the diner, you may be the baker, but at Augusto’s Chevalier, you’re a chef.” He explained, never once taking his eyes off the woman next to him. “You think they differentiate all that back there in that kitchen?” Magnolia squinted her eyes at him with a slight tilt of her head.

“They literally do?…in every kitchen.” She said, understanding the point her good friend was trying to make but also not seeing how a restaurant business mogul didn’t know such a thing.

“Yeah, whatever.” He said with a shrug as he waved her off playfully.

She rolled her eyes at him again. “Are you gonna take our order or not Mr. Hotshot?” She asked with a playful smirk, looking at the man decked in a nice suit and gold jewelry whose face stood only a few feet away from hers. She caught sight of Dev’s bright eyes next to his briefly, staring at her intensely. She felt a chill run down her spine at the gaze, but her eyes never directly met his.

“No, actually. I just came to speak.” He said to her with a small smile. He then turned his head, giving the man next to them a sideways glance and another once-over. He let out a dry chortle that was barely audible before rising from his relaxed position to stand fully. “This is just for show.” He said, gesturing to the pen and paper he’d gathered from his large blazer.

“Good, because we’re not even ready to order,” Magnolia said. Giorgio just hummed with a nod, giving her face one last good look. “It was nice seeing you, Magnolia.” He practically purred, his eyes trained on her face. Magnolia nodded at his words. “It was nice seeing you again too, G.” She said, giving him a soft smile. Giorgio couldn’t help but smile at the name, his perfect teeth showing as he looked at her, gleaming in contrast to his chocolate skin. He blinked before his gaze drifted to the other man at the booth. He nodded his head down at Dev before walking away from them, passing by Magnolia.

Dev sat there, watching the man leave their table. He didn’t even offer a nod back to Giorgio. He just stayed in place, a stone-cold look on his face, even when Giorgio glanced back at Magnolia with a smirk, said woman eyeing the menu. His eyes drifted to Dev’s, his grin turning more sinister before leaving his eyesight.

“Not gonna lie, I could go for a butter pecan.” He was snapped out of his trance at the sound of the woman mumbling to herself. “I’m definitely getting up there because I used to hate that shit.” She let out a small chortle of herself. Dev’s gaze moved across her form, not speaking as he continued to think about the interaction between Giorgio and Magnolia. “I never had pistachio, maybe I should try that.” She said, continuing her search, unbeknownst of the watching eyes she had on her.

She then looked up, slightly shaken to see the man’s gaze on her already but didn’t speak on it. “I’m gonna start you off simple with a waffle cone and some chocolate ice cream. I know vanilla is more basic, but I said simple, not plain.” She stated, waving her finger about as she explained the rundown to him, her abundance of jewelry clinging about. “But don’t get me wrong, I love a good vanilla. Especially a homemade one? Tuh! Word around town is your girls makes the best.”

“I think Giorgio wants to hook up with you.”

Magnolia’s head jerked back at Dev’s statement as her smile dropped. “What?” Her face contorted between confusion and disgust but also a little bit of intrigue as she tried to gather what Dev saw. “No, I’m positive he does not.” She said, letting out a nervous laugh at what her newfound friend said.

“He was acting a little like Jess.” Dev continued, not taking his eyes away from the woman in front of him. ��Just a little different.”

“That’s just how we interact here.” She said softly, sitting forward more in her seat to lean closer to him as she began to explain. “He’s technically my boss and I’m his worker. In today’s time, to create a more healthy work environment, bosses tend to be friendly to their staff so what they’re doing isn’t considered slave labor.” She said letting out a small chuckle. “That and so their bond is somewhat like a work family and that there’s a trust put into everything said company produces.” She explained. She then worked her head, looking him in the eye. “We’re just friends.” She said softly. “Barely even that, we’ve never even gone out for a beverage.”

“He looks at you a lot,” Dev continued to comment, his face still the same even though this warm feeling spread through him at the way she was gazing at him over the table. He had subconsciously leaned forward in his seat and against the table, the pair sitting closer to one another.

“That’s what we do here. Eye contact is expected in most settings.” She said, her eyes stuck on his. They were practically whispering now, faces sort of close as they leaned across the table. “I mean, look at us now. I look at you, you look at me.”

“That is because we are having a conversation.”

“Were me and Giorgio not having a conversation?”

“Yes, but even when you weren’t looking at him, he was looking at you. Everywhere.”

“You look at me all the time.” Magnolia was quick to add to their small and somewhat silent argument, ignoring the last part about Giorgio’s eyes drifting over her figure when she wasn’t looking.

“I am observing because I am new here. What’s his excuse?” Dev added with a small tilt of his head. Magnolia let up a quick gasp at his words, looking him up and down. “Oh, you’re a little sassy when you want to be.” She said with a playful grin. Dev’s face stayed stoic, causing her to let out a small laugh. “Dev, relax and pick out an ice cream door before it gets dark out.” She said, jerking her head out of the window at the cloud-covered sun. “I hate driving in the dark.” She said softly before going back to her menu.

Dev blinked at her before looking down at his menu in front of him, both still leaned forward on the table as they observed what they were going to have.

His mind was clouded, full of questions and thoughts regarding not only the ones Ms out of his new life, it whatever was going on between Giorgio and Magnolia. Dev was no stranger to emotions, as oddly as he acted about them. He’d never really felt such staring emotions about anyone, not even his intended, but he’s seen those who have. And he could see that there were feelings between the two, even if it was one-sided. And something was telling him that Giorgio was the one that fancied her more, which caused this acidic feeling to enter the back of his throat and made his face want to contort into a scowl.

Giorgio rubbed him the wrong way and it’s not just because he’s into Magnolia. Although, Dev wasn’t quite sure why that last part bothered him more.

Magnolia on the other hand was simply a little confused. This had been the first time anyone had ever told her such a thing about her and Giorgio. Although they weren’t friends who went out anywhere, they’ve been around and conversed with others, and nothing of the sort has ever come up. She didn’t know what Dev saw, or if she could even trust his judgment since he was new to earth and e everything.

What bothered her most was that she wasn’t sure if she disliked the thought of Giorgio liking her. It was her boss after all and that wouldn’t be good for business, so she was more than likely never going to outside anything, but she couldn’t deny that he was an attractive man. A wealthy attractive man with a Brooklyn accent that dressed well. To Magnolia, he was a city boy through and through, and that intrigued her southern little behind. He was no blue-collar man, but she wasn’t picky and didn’t necessarily have a type. She was just used to one thing. All that to say is it were true, she wouldn’t mind hopping on the ride.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by Dev’s speaking.

“I don’t want to hook up with Jess either.” He said, causing her to look and connect their eyes. “Ever.” He finished. Magnolia blinked in confusion before simply nodding. “Okay.” She said before looking back down at her menu. Dev frowned, looking at the top of her head.

“And you don’t want to hook up with Giorgio, right?” He questioned. Magnolia let out a small laugh before looking back up at him. “No, I do not, Dev.” She said softly, looking into his eyes, which were now a soft green. Even though she sort of contradicted her previous thoughts, she was telling the truth, she didn’t necessarily want to hook up with him. Dev’s eyes jumped between hers, trying to see if he could almost sense a lie from her. He then blinked with a nod. “Good.” He said, looking at her intensely before going back to his menu. Magnolia frowned in confusion at him in what he meant by that but was cut off by Dev speaking again.

“When do we get this ice cream? Where is it coming from?” He asked, looking over his shoulder as he observed the thing in the diner. Magnolia pursed her lips, watching him.

“There's so much you have to learn, honeybun, so when we get home, we’re watching movies.” She said. “There’s only so much I can do for you, sweet pea.” She said as she shook her head with a sad smile.

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[lazypanartist]

HELLO i fucking LOVE ur stobotnik and their kid series!!! its what initially got me to watching the movies and into the sonic franchise as a whole!!! can i request a stobotnik and their kid whos sort of like maria.... like they genuinely love the world and humanity despite (ahem) everything Ivo says. Maybe add in a sprinkle of shadow who sees reader and is taken aback by how similar they are to maria, and now stone + ivo has to deal with their kid having a new guard dog/brother HDSHSDH love ur writing, hope u have a good day!!

AHHH I'M SO GLAD I COULD HELP YOU GET INTO THE SERIES!! Super touched 💙💙💙

*Frantically googling Shadow's personality + Maria Robotnik*

*Having a Crisis™ because WOW OKAY*

Anyways! I've been working on this since the request rolled in, and am 100% invested. Willing to take related requests ^-^

Stobotnik + Sweetheart! Child, + Guard Dog Bestie! Shadow

Note: this is long. Like, LONG long

Your fathers have always loved you, if a tad.. oddly.

Papa Ivo doesn't understand your interest with the rest of humanity.

"What if one of those disgusting cretins gets my baby sick? What if someone actually wanted to hurt you?"

"No, it's far safer for you if you stay by his or Papa Stone's side. Or in the lab. The lab is VERY safe, you know. Well idiot proofed"

Not that he's calling his baby an idiot, of course -

Baba Aban, however, seems to understand you.

Of course he respects Papa's wishes, keeps you close when you do go out, but he tries to sate your interest in humanity best he can.

Always open to questions, and will try to answer everything as age-appropriately as possible.

"What does Papa do all day?"

"He builds things for the government."

"Why?"

"Because it pays well enough to raise you and keeps him busy."

"Why doesn't Papa like other people?"

He.. doesn't have an answer for that one. Not really.

"Just because" sounds too shallow, and "Because people can be horrible" is almost worse.

"To keep you safe."

It's not a lie, but it's not the truth, and the way you huff lets him know you're onto him.

Lets Ivo know before you two are finished with errands, in case you bombard the older man with questions next

They both try and keep you entertained in their own ways

Papa Ivo tries to keep you interested in his machines, how they can be used to better your life

Baba Aban takes you out for errands and helps teach you in the kitchen

Life is as balanced as it can be, considering your solitude growing up

Both dads help you set up a little greenhouse in the traveling lab

"For self sufficiency!" - Papa Ivo

"To give them a new hobby." - Baba Aban

"To keep me busy." - Baby You™

You know what's up

SO since we don't yet know how Shadow calmed tf down in the movie, bare with me here.

After the events of Movie 2 and then the unearthing of Project Shadow, you and your dads are living in the Crabmeat base deep in the Pacific

You and Baba Aban still surface occasionally for groceries and supplies, while Papa Ivo throws himself into his work to distract himself from his latest defeat.

During one surface visit, looking around the Seattle streets while on the back of Baba Aban's motorcycle, you see a strangely familiar figure on a similar vehicle.

You tug on your das's sleeve before gearuring toward the hedgehog

"Baba.. that's not Sonic, is it?"

He looks, does a double take

"Uh.. no."

He's stopping near the same lot the two of you are, and Baba instructs you to message Papa

"Found another alien hedgehog, will update"

He seems wary when the two of you approach, glancing between you as Aban steps closer, an arm in front of your chest to keep you back behind him

"Who are you?"

The hedgehog glares, and you slink just a bit closer to see him

"I am the ultimate life form."

"Decided by who?"

"That's none of your concern."

The two are almost circling one another now, Baba keeping you behind him, even if just barely

"It's my concern if you're here to.. to destroy humanity, or whatever."

You eye him from behind your dad, but he just huffs a laugh

"Destroy? I was created to preserve your human lives."

Your eyes widen again, catching his own before he glanced back towards your Baba

"Is that a problem?"

You tug at Aban's sleeve again, and he slows his movement, letting you peek out more from behind him

"No.. I don't suppose it is."

You finally slip out from behind him, smiling, and Shadow is hit, mentally, with the image of Maria, smile - the same energy as your own

A certain kind of sad loneliness, with an undertone of care

He doesn't know why he thinks of it that way

All he knows is that it feels like home again

The two of you see each other a few times after that, while out on errands with Baba

Papa wants to meet him - of course - but doesn't want another Knuckles situation

(He's very glad that the echidna didn't try and go after you for revenge - after the emerald was taken away, he wasn't sure he could have saved you)

So he lets you - and Stone - approach him on the surface

Not that you know explicitly that you're helping.

Neither of your dad's know about Maria - at least not explicitly - and Shadow still hasn't voiced why he's so attached to you

He finds himself following you whenever he sees you on earth

Of course you're with Baba every time, kept at arms length from Shadow, but he keeps coming back

Papa allows it because he hasn't made any threats

Baba allows it because he seems genuinely friendly

And doesn't seem to recognize him

Finally - FINALLY - Papa asks Baba to help bring him to the base

Respectfully, if possible. He wants to keep the peace, even if it's just for your sake

You get to be the lucky one to invite Shadow to the base

You smile when you ask if he'd like to come, and all he can see is Maria inviting him to see a new breakthrough from her grandfather

He says yes

Immediately

Your smile gets wider

"This is the first time I've invited a friend home!"

His poor, walled-off heart cracks just a little, and he gives Stone a Look™

Baba just glanced away before offering him a ride in a (rented) car

The two of you sit in the back, just talking to each other, while Stone contemplated how he got to driving one of the aliens.

To his home.

With his child in the backseat next to said alien.

As long as you're happy, and Ivo's happy, then he's sure he'll be fine

Shadow is still vague with answers around his past - every time you try and engage him about family, friends, childhood, home - he thinks of Maria

He still tries to answer you - he grew up in space, with his best friend and her grandfather.

She was.. sick. Very sick. And she died.

Conveniently leaving GUN out of the convo.

He sees the sadness you have for him - the same Maria held when she told him to go - and decides that he'll make space for himself in your life

If you let him.

ONLY if you let him.

The three of you make it back to crabmeat safely, and both of your dads hover, but let you interact how you want

Shadow sees a lot of Gerald in your Papa, but won't say anything.

He can't

Not yet, at least

He ends up staying the night, nested on your floor next to your own little fort, facing the door even in his sleep

Ivo tolerates it, if barely

He brought the hedgehog here to study, not to befriend his baby

"What if he has.. space rabies?!"

Stone just rolls his eyes as he shuts your door most the way, alarm systems all in place for the night

"This is the first time they've had a friend over, Ivo. We'll know if something goes wrong - just let them have this."

"This" turned into "a live-in best friend" rather quickly, to both parents' surprise (and your absolute delight)

Eventually, he caves.

He starts answering questions truthfully, the pain still rather fresh in his mind

He tells you about Maria, about GUN, about his purpose and pain

And you're there to comfort him

He's not graphic, and you don't push, and he appreciates it more than he'll voice, even to you

He figures that as long as you're willing to be there and listen, he'll be there to keep you safe company

Both dads are.. annoyed

Ivo thinks this new hedgehog is overbearing - always at your shoulder, keeping you company when he's supposed to be, never seeming to let you out of his sight

Stone thinks he's up to something, the way he lingers between streets when you're out, watching from the shadows (ha)

In reality, he's just trying to keep you safe

Your dads seem to figure that out when one of Ivo's ridiculous predictions comes true - you wander just a bit too far from Baba to look at some UV lights for your plants on Crabmeat, and someone grabs your arm as they walk past, jostling you enough that you yelp

Shadow is there in half a second, sending the aggressor to the floor before tugging on your hand, coaxing you down so he can look at the bruise forming on your bicep

Baba Aban is there a second later, lowering himself and helping Shadow turn your arm before helping you back up

"We should leave."

The three of you are silent until halfway back to the base, when Baba tilts the rearview to look at Shadow while he's druving

"Shadow.."

"What?"

He always glares when he talks to anyone besides you. Typically toward the floor or their chests, but right now he's looking your Baba in the eyes through the mirror, watching your father's gaze soften

*Thank you."

And thank YOU anonymous requester for all of this!

The requests for Sonic Movieverse, and this particular headcanon set, are wide open! Please send me reqs! I'm fixating like a mofo right now!!

[staybabblingbaby]

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.5 (Verbena) a1d1

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 1,903

TO THE UNAWARE: THIS IS A PROGRESS UPDATE OF A CHAPTER NOT REMOTELY CLOSE TO DONE! PLEASE DON'T EXPECT A FULL OR POLISHED PRODUCT HERE

Notes: Wow!!! It's been forever! It's amazing what a decent night's sleep can do for one's creativity. Cranked this out in abt 3ish hours???? maybe 4??? It's ok this has been marinating in my brain for fucking ever lmao, but I fried my brain getting it out so this is what we have for now o7

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader, Mentions of panic attack, Reader is processing her feelings </3

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Main Part (Unfinished </3)

By some miracle, you make it home without incident.

You slam open your front door for the second time in as many days, and make straight for your room to properly scream into your pillow. You’re late for work at this point, having intended to go straight from the gym to your office, but honestly just the thought of being a functioning human being right now made you want to cry. Everything made you want to cry, actually.

You hear the door to your room creak open slowly, and you can practically see Taylor’s stupid considerate blond head peeking in cautiously even from your position laying face down on your mattress trying to suffocate in your pillows. He takes the lack of soft objects being flung at him as welcome and invites himself further into the room.

You’re not sure how your roommate seems to spawn wherever you are when you’re upset, but when the bed dips under his weight, and Taylor’s warm, not-your-soulmate, hand soothes comfortingly down your spine, you can only be grateful for the superpower.

Your roommate lets you marinate in your misery for a bit, running his fingers through your hair and just being a silent comfort. Eventually though, he get tired of your brooding and tugs lightly at the strangs between his fingers.

“Alright, out with it.” He demands softly, “Who am I killing? Where are we hiding the body? I need details.”

You huff a soft laugh into your pillows and roll over to the side of your bed, arm wildly swinging about in search of the gym bag you’d dropped during your dramatics. You find it after a moment or two and fumble around to unzip and pull out that atrocious hat. You take satisfaction in flinging it at Taylor’s face, even if he manages to catch it before it hits him.

“No murder,” You answer at last, face once more smooched between pillows, “Just hate myself.”

There’s a moment of silence as Taylor studies the hat, and you’d bet the mix of disgust and puzzlement at the offending item would be priceless if you could bring yourself to look at him. As it is, you reject the thought of receiving any sort of joy and remain prone.

You can tell the moment he realizes what exactly he’s holding, because he sighs heavily and drops his full weight onto your back.

Ignoring your pained grunt and weak struggle to free yourself (because of course he knows the pressure grounds you. Stupid best friend knowledge) Taylor asks, “So, what happened? Whose signiture is it?I can’t murder my favorite group, but I’m sure I could start some sort of fan war if I needed to.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You sulk to your pillows, giving up on freedom and going limp. Taylor gently raps against your skull with his knuckle in reprimand.

“C’mon now. I know that’s not true. You’re here instead of work.” The blond gently points out.

And curse the man, but he has a point. If you really wanted to hide from what happened you’d be in your office right now, pilling on so much work you couldn’t think of anything else. You’d drown your feelings in routine like you’d tried to this morning.

You whine and squirm a moment longer, but Taylor easily keeps his seat on your back, and you quickly give up again.

“I had a panic attack in front of him,” You admit, shifting to more fully bury yourself, hoping the words will be too muffled to make up. You can’t help the rush of hot shame that shoots through you as you recall your loss of composure.

Usually you’d at least make your way to somewhere more private, brushing off stray tears as allergies and any stuttering as nerves, but you’d just been hit so quickly with the bond, struck so violently by how gentle it felt, you’d been helpless to anything but crumple where you stood.

“Yeah? You doin’ alright?” Taylor coos gently, a hand coming up to knead firmly at the base of your neck, another grounding technique you’d taught him. You grumble as tension you didn’t realize you were carrying slowly leeches out of you at his ministrations, leaving you boneless and desperately holding back tears again. This is why you’d told him this particular action was for emergencies only, it left you feeling vulnerable and soft.

You sniff quietly, your voice thick when your reply, “I don’t know.”

“C’mon love,” Taylor cajoles, “tell me all about it.”

“I- I just.” You stutter and gulp quietly, tears finally spilling over, “He was way too nice to me,” the words crawl out of your throat unbidden, and you finally let everything you’d been carrying overflow.

“I keep putting them through rejection, an’- and I’m a terrible soulmate but he was so kind and he helped me through the panic and he has to hate me now and I don’t know why I can’t just not want them when they scare me so bad,” You blubber out, curling in on yourself when Taylor moves off of you to give you the space to breathe through your tears, huge, gasping, sobs escaping you between words.

Your roommate lets you get your feelings out, holding you through it and rocking you gently. It doesn’t take long for your tears to run out though, you’d never been able to let go of yourself for long.

When your sobs are reduced back to sniffles, Taylor smiles kindly at you.

“You’re kinda dumb.”

You gasp in offense, trying to turn enough to smack him, but Taylor just giggles and holds you tighter so you can’t retaliate.

“I mean it!” He asserts through his laughter, “You keep acting like it’s the end of the world to have trauma, be nicer to yourself,” He scolds lightly. “Besides, of course they’re nice to you! Their whole brand is being kind and generous people.” He lectures, “As a STAY it is my solemn duty to inform you that those men love like breathing. It’s obvious in everything they do, of course their first instinct is to love you.”

Taylor looks down at you with bright eyes, his smile says he hopes for you, and you find yourself swept away by his optimism, “You just have to give yourself a chance, love.”

You lean heavily against him, a silent agreement. You can’t say the words yet, can’t find forgiveness in your heart for how you’ve treated the people who have supported both you and your roommate through your hardest times, though in different ways. But still, his words forge determination on your behalf.

Taylor taps your side where the newest batch of flowers has freshly bloomed.

“Though,” he contemplates, “I’m not entirely convinced you’re actually rejecting them.”

You sniff miserably, squirming around to face the blond, “What do you mean?” You scrunch your nose in confusion, “I’ve run from every one of them, of course I am.”

“No, yeah,” he agrees, “I just mean that you’re not showing any symptoms.”

You think about it for a moment, and have to concede the point. Taylor must see it in your face, because he continues, “I mean, you’re about as moody as normal,” You gently punch his chest for that, but h just catches your wrist and keeps talking, “No nausea, dizziness, body aches, muscle weakness. Hell, you just came back from the gym.”

Taylor interrupts himself with a gasp and bolts upright, “Ohmygod the gym! Did you meet Changbin?! Is that Changbin’s signature on your ugly fucking hat?! No. Wait.” Taylor holds up a hand and visibly reels himself in, taking a deep breath. “Fanboy later, friendship now.” He breathes again before getting back on track.

“Right. So. What I meant was actual Rejection is an active choice, and it’s ugly for all parties involved. You’ve just been reacting, so I don’t think you’re, like, actually causing harm.” He finally finishes explaining.

Again, you have to give him the point. Annoyingly reasonable man that he is. You haven’t felt any pain aside from the annoying prickling of the unacknowledged bond. You’ve felt unsettled, restless and uneasy, but nothing of the physical ills that accompany a soulmate rejection.

As the rejecting party, you’d be hit the worst by it, so the fact that you haven’t felt so much as a headache from anything but your own tears is good news.

Hope flutters on cautious wings in your chest.

Eventually Taylor leaves you, having used most of his lunch break to coach you through your emotions. You’d have to get him something nice to thank him later.

For your part, you decide to head into work after all, the guilt of others having to pick up your slack driving you forward. Besides, you could really use the distraction. Letting your emotions process in the background while you completed your daily tasks was exactly what you needed after the upheaval of the morning.

Unfortunately for you, your recent absence and tardiness had made you the perfect target to push off the undesirable jobs for the day, leading to you trudging through the heat to meet a client who absolutely had to have this meeting today, but couldn’t leave their gallery unattended.

Honestly, even though you’d grumbled about it when you’d realized you’d have to leave the office, you weren’t actually too mad about it.

The client you were on your way to meet was the curator of a small local gallery, the pretentious kind of hipster place you normally wouldn’t set foot in. However, if you recalled correctly, this month they were showing collections themed around flora. A subject right up your wheelhouse.

If you had any luck, your meeting would be quick and, since you’d put it off as long as you could (just like all the coworkers that had managed to push it off to you), it had ended up your last task for the day. You’d be free to peruse the gallery to your heart’s content as long as the meeting didn’t drag past the gallery’s closing time.

The universe seems to (finally!) be on your side, because the meeting does go mercifully smoothly. So much so that you’re convinced that it could have been an email and you’d been dragged out of your office for nothing, but whatever. Free admission.

In fact, the cuator offers to tour you through the exhibits on display themself, only leaving you to your own devices when a wealthy-looking someone-or-other approaches about purchasing a piece.

It’s much better this way, in your opinion. You can take your time staring blankly at the art, judging how well they’ve depicted the flowers precious to your heart, and sit with the storm of feelings in your heart without having to listen to some man tell you how each painting should make you feel.

You’re doing exactly that, staring blankly at a piece depicting the view from under a wisteria tree and thinking about your matching soulmark, when a man comes up to you, regardless of your narrow escape.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, only really seeing tufts of long blond hair peeking out from under a dark beanie, his face obscured by a black facemask. Fake glasses are perched daintily a-top his nose, and you immediately dismiss him as just another art snob you’re not really interested in listening to.

The 'Everything Always' Tag List: @chancloud8 , @sh0dor1 ,

To the readers who come across this: If you want to be added to the progress taglist for just this fic, let me know in the replies here or on this post!

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

Can you do rafe x reader and she find out she’s pregnant and gets kicked out so she has to tell rafe

you hurt me pretty good too

pairing(s): fwb!rafe cameron x fwb!fem!reader

warnings: pregnancy, toxic parents, reader is kicked out, talks of abortion, pet names

summary: after finding out you’re pregnant, you parents kick you to the curb, forcing you to tell the father.

authors note: thank you so much for the request! i’ve been so slow with updating because of my writers block but i’m going to finish up all of these requests as soon as i can.

part zero | part one | part two

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

“dad, please,” you cried. “i tried. i was careful! i don’t know what more you want from me. we used protection and i was on birth control.”

he didn’t seem to accept that answer. “then maybe you shouldn’t be having sex at all. if you’re not responsible enough to prevent getting pregnant, how can i trust that you’ll take care of a kid?”

“i promise i will. i have a steady job, i pay for all of my own stuff, i do everything on my own. i promise this won’t be a problem for you,” you tried to reason.

“if you won’t get an abortion, you can’t stay here,” he said firmly. “and thats that.”

your lip trembled as you turned to your mother. “mom?”

“i’m sorry, honey. your fathers right.”

you choked out a sob before rushing into your room and packing up all of your valuable belongings into a duffle bag you found in your closet. you grabbed all of your stashed money and anything else you needed. you didn’t even bother packing too many clothes, you’d later buy new ones.

without any exchanged words, you walked out to your car and threw the bag into the back, pressing the start button and driving off.

you furiously wiped the tears from your eyes as you sped down the bridge over to figure 8. you hated this. you hated what you were about to do. but it was your only option now.

and when you arrived, you were still in tears and even more nervous than confessing to your parents.

your walked up to the front door and knocked. “coming,” you heard his voice yell. then it swung open.

the first thing he noticed was your teary eyes. “hey, what’s wrong?” he was never this soft with you. but you were more than grateful right now. “come in. we can go up to my room.”

you stepped around him, trying your best not to cry even harder when his hand splayed across your lower back as he led you up to the room as if you hadn’t navigated your way there on your own a million times.

he gestured to the bed, silently telling you to take a seat as he kneeled in front of you, a hand on each of your thighs. “what’s wrong, sweetheart? something happen.”

you broke down now. “you’re gonna hate me.”

“i don’t think i could ever hate you,” he mumbled softly, eyes searching yours for some sort of answer.

you took a deep breath to gather yourself. “my—my parents kicked me out.”

his brows furrowed in towards each other. “what? why?”

you couldn’t look at him anymore. your eyes averted to the ground. “i’m pregnant.”

you heard the breath he sucked in, letting it out seconds later as his thumb moved across your skin comfortingly.

when he didn’t say anything, you cried even harder and stood up. “i’m sorry, rafe.”

he stood up with you and grabbed your hands. “no, no it’s okay, sweetheart. it’s okay,” he said before wrapping his arms around you. “it’s gonna be fine. we’re gonna figure it out together, yeah? i can talk to my dad about you staying with me for a little until we sort it out.”

his hand gently ran through your hair as he kissed your temple. “no matter what, angel, i promise to take care of the both of you.”

[lizardaggro]

on the flip side (twst bully!au) pt 3

here we are, the long-awaited (it was literally like 1 day) part 3!! i wanted to declare on one of the actual chapters since those get seen by the most people that I DID NOT MAKE THIS AU, credit i believe goes to @azulsluver. i swear i don't hate you guys, leaving everything on a cliffhanger, but the good news is i have a lot of time on my hands due to chronic illness so i can update super often. also i gave up on the purple theme on posts bc tumblr hates me and always leaves the end of the word count black.

part 1 part 2

genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, mild yandere (will be escalating throughout the series, but no non-con) word count: 1246

You couldn’t really afford to space out and think about it though, not when he was right in front of you. Riddle tapped his foot impatiently, clearly irate at your lack of response. “Well?” He asked. “Do you not even have anything to say in your defense?”

Oh dear. However were you supposed to get rid of him when he was so intent on getting some sort of answer out of you? You had no idea what he wanted! He was more difficult to threaten, too, since you’d made up your mind that you didn’t want to be like your tormentors and completely ruin others’ lives. No, your end goal was just to make them leave you alone. After everything you’d been through, you really didn’t want to see them again.

It might seem strange to some people, that you weren’t dead set on destroying any semblance of normalcy they once had. You had all the ammunition you needed, of course. The Overblot victims would be the easiest to topple, considering what they’d done in and leading up to that state. But you didn’t think you were a particularly vengeful person; at least, you didn’t want to be. Crowley had always said that you must’ve been sent here to get his precious students to work together, so clearly you weren’t like them.

“I never asked for this, Riddle. Any of this. So if you think somewhere in your fucked-up mentality that you’re doing me some sort of favor, you’re dead wrong,” you intoned. Indeed, even though you just wanted them gone, you missed the days when you were all friends. Back when you thought everyone had your back no matter what. Oh, if only you knew what they’d do for you. It wouldn’t be hard at all to push some of the more unstable students over the edge. Those who felt they didn’t have anyone else. Much like a certain dragon fae who never did seem to get invited to things.

Riddle looked like he was about to say something, but before he could, he was drenched by a great torrential rain. Where did that come from? Didn’t the forecast say it was supposed to be clear skies and sunny for the rest of the week? Your question was soon answered, as you had two more visitors.

“Silver? Sebek? What brings you here?” You inquired, not at all amused. When those two showed up at the same time, it could only mean one thing, and it wasn’t good. Riddle looked like he had caught on as well, since he stepped in front of you, as if that would do any good.

“LORD MALLEUS REQUESTS YOUR PRESENCE!!” Sebek boomed. You’d made progress on his volume in the past, so you were sure he did it just to annoy you. Silver just stared. He always stared, you felt like. Sometimes you swore you could feel his eyes on you even when he was nowhere to be found.

“Oh, gee, I wonder what that’s about,” you snarked. “Poor little princey-poo doesn’t want his embarrassing little secrets getting out? Well you can tell him to fuck off.” You must’ve been feeling especially brave, since normally you knew that defying Malleus Draconia was as good as a death sentence. He wasn’t even that bad, compared to some of the others. He just… locked you in his room and made you listen to him talk, with no room to get a word in edgewise. He’d go on and on about one thing or another for HOURS, with no regard for your schedule or your bodily needs. Clearly fae had a different sense of time than most.

It was the loss of control over your own life that you hated; that, and that if he really still considered you a friend, he never bothered to do anything about your bullies. You knew he was more than capable; you’d witnessed his strength firsthand on multiple occasions. You didn’t know what his endgame was, and frankly you were too scared to find out. He could trap you there forever and you wouldn’t be able to do a single thing about it.

Sebek was not amused. He raised an arm, likely to strike you, but Silver placed a hand on it, effectively stopping him. “Don’t. You wouldn’t want Lord Malleus to see a bruise on them,” he reasoned. You didn’t get it. Since when would he care? Sebek roughly shoved Riddle out of the way, despite all his objections, and nonchalantly slung you over his shoulder.

“What the hell?!” You screeched, pounding your fists on his back. “Put me down! I’m not going!” You weren’t sure why you were objecting so vehemently; this time wasn’t any different than the others. But something about the dark gray clouds pouring rain on what should’ve been a lovely day just told you that this was not going to be good.

But alas, your plight was ignored. The three of you made your way to Diasomnia in silence. No one bothered to stop and stare in the halls, as you being carried off by people was somewhat of a normal occurrence. You could swear Savannahclaw and Diasomnia even had some sort of twisted capture-the-flag game going, for whatever reason.

When you entered the gothic-style castle, you were greeted by none other than Lilia. Much like Malleus, he’d never bothered you too terribly, only engaging in less-than-welcome pranks. You knew he was far older than he let on, so you supposed he didn’t see the point in such childish endeavors. There was, however, one thing you feared about the man: his cooking, which he tried to shove down your throat at every opportunity. How Silver grew up healthy you’d never know.

And so, of course, you were greeted by a plate of… well, goop, to put it nicely. “Here, have a seat, dear, I made lasagna,” Lilia offered with what you assumed was supposed to be a warm smile. To you in that moment, with the fumes starting to reach your nose, it looked like a shit-eating grin.

“I’ll pass, thanks. That is to say, I’d rather die than eat that shit, because it looks and smells like it’ll send me straight to hell,” you deadpanned. Sebek let out an unholy screech and started ranting about how dare you refuse Lord Lilia, even though you knew he wouldn’t want to eat it either. You did your best to tune him out. Silver looked relieved, surprisingly enough. You supposed he was able to empathize since he grew up eating the stuff.

Luckily for you, Lilia just sighed and walked off, taking his culinary abomination with him. The three of you who remained shared a look. “How are you still alive after all these years?” You asked Silver. He shrugged. If even he didn’t know, you’d just call it a miracle.

“SILVER, QUIT FRATERNIZING WITH THE ENEMY! LORD MALLEUS IS WAITING!” Sebek practically screamed in your ear. You really wished he would stop doing that. But you had more important things to worry about, like your impending death by dragon fae. Once you arrived at Malleus’s room, Sebek set you down and pushed you inside. You heard the lock click behind you. You gulped, feeling the pressure of being alone in a room with a presumably angry and very powerful mage. You looked up to see a pair of emerald eyes staring you down. Oh boy, this was not going to be fun.

taglist: @twistedcece @slxt4h1m @teawhere @pleasehugmeaether @reivelmin @aoiyx

[primary-022]

outsiders x male reader

I sat in a booth at the dingo, eating lunch, and finishing some homework, as well as others because I needed the money.

Then a group boys came in and settled down in a booth in front of me. They had greasy hair, a style commonly associated with Greasers. I recognized some of the boys - not that I knew them well, but I had seen them around. Two of the boys work at the DX and another one with a cut on his cheek is in my English class.

Well knowing very what greasers are like I tried to keep my head down so I won't get notice until a couple of socs came in.

How I know this is, well, I am middle class, and we're mostly pretty chill besides choosing groups to be in. I am close to being called middle-class so I don't get bothered as much sort of.

If you are not familiar with socs, they're the rich kids who think they are above everything and are super snotty-well at least most of them. Anyway, socs and greasers are not very fond of each other, and there has been a rivalry between the two social groups.

Well, anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, I was doing some work until the Socs happened to stumble across me.

"Well, look who it is," one of the socs said, sliding into the seat next to me. Hey guys, I said, trying to continue my work and hoping it would make them interested in me."What do you guys need?" I asked. "Oh, nothing. Just checking in on our favorite genius to monitor if he's okay and doing what we requested. It seems that you’re not," he replied disapprovingly."Well, I have other people working on it; you know that," I responded."Do we? Or are you just avoiding it?" he pressed.

I started to feel a little scared because, when he acts like this, I know from past experiences that I might get jumped on my way home. "Look, man, I can do it right now if you want," I said, trying to divert his attention from whatever he had planned."I guess that's good," he said, but not before glancing at his friends with a smirk. "While you're at it, do these," he added as his friends began passing their homework to him. "That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook," he continued, dropping the pill onto the work I was doing. With that, he and his group started to walk away, and I let out a deep breath I had been holding. If you're wondering who had been tormenting me the whole time, his name is Bob, and he thinks he is invincible.

Unknowingly to me, while that was happening, the greaser sitting in the booth next to me was overhearing the commotion"Hey, you!" I heard someone call out. I turned my head to see who it was. "Oh, hi," I greeted them. "Hey," one of them replied. "Um, we were wondering if you wanted to walk with us. We overheard that little situation with those annoying Socs."Oh, y'all heard? Sorry, and sure, why not—it will save me from getting jumped, hopefully. "Yeah, well, I'm Soda Pop," he said, introducing himself. Oh, right! You work at the DX.

Yeah, and this is Steve with the tattoo, Johnny Cakes, two-bit with a Mickey t-shirt, the sleeves cut off, and my brother Ponyboy. he said, introducing the people he is with. I said hello to them, and they waved back in response.

Anyway, why are you doing other people's homework? Sodapop ask.

Well, I need the money to avoid getting harmed, and I have some debt to pay off.

"Huh? What kind of debt?" Two-Bit asked.

I borrowed money from someone, and now another person thinks that if I owe money to one person, I should also owe him money. "Who?" he continued. "Huh?" I replied, confused. "Who?" Steve asked, responding to my vague answer. "Um... oh yeah, Bob. He's part of this so-called badass group that I mention."

"No, we were asking who you owe money to," Ponyboy said, wanting to know.

"Oh" well, you are gonna have to get to know me better if you want to know".I said with a grin, leaving them with a confused and disappointed expression.

I'm sort of in a stump. I don't know what else to add, but I will keep updating this post or another one and link to the original post. If you’d like me to create a full story based on this, please let me know! I’m also working on an oc character story on Wattpad and A03. It’s not published yet, but I’m focusing on that as well. The story features a male character because there aren’t many options available for male readers. Anyway, I'll stop yapping your ears off. 😘💋

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 45

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- I’m sensing trouble…. 🥴

Billie’s POV

It’d been a week since the talk, but it was still all I could think about. She’d given me an out, a perfect opportunity, and still I lied. Another promise between us that would go broken, because she’s right, I can never just confront anything. 

Can you blame me? Can you honestly say that you would be able to look your deity in the eye and confess all your sinful thoughts and wishes? That you could tarnish every pure moment you’d ever spent in her presence, and not crumble beneath the way She looked at you?

There were times when I felt myself coping, wondering if it was even really a lie or just a withheld truth, and then I remember, that’s the exact train of thought I'd used to defend keeping her on tour. I can’t help my mouth… the things that will come out of it just to keep her nearby…

And now, of course, it feels too late. Now I’d have to admit to her that she was right, she can't believe a single thing I say. I cannot be trusted when it comes to her. 

If I'm honest, I’d been avoiding her. It's been a little less than a week, but there’s something a lack of her does to my body. I feel like a zombie walking the streets, a dull ache in my muscle protruding from the skin, falling from the bone, and limbs hanging off me. I can feel it rotting me from the inside, this black and unforgiving fear. I’m worried that if I see her, she’ll notice it. That if I let her see me, she’ll see it written all over my face.

I spent some of this week making music, just to distract myself, in hopes of feeling better, but there was nothing poetic or beautiful about how selfish I'd been. Once again, I put our friendship on the line, because I’m worried if I tell her the truth, she might not want to be around me anymore. Once again I’m not allowing her autonomy. 

Maybe part of the reason I’m avoiding her this week is to prove to myself I can be without her. But, like an addict, I return every time, so certain that I can handle being around her without being completely enthralled. Obsessed. Addicted.

Stepping out of the car, I’m met with the familiar view of Finneas’ place. My keys jingle obnoxiously as I sort through them. The key to my car, my place, remy’s place, and finally, the key to Finneas’ front door. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear the new and inventive ways i’ve managed to fuck up with Remy since last time we spoke.

“Big brudddeerrrr.” I call out into the empty expanse, not bothering to look for him.

“Sup.” He answers plainly, his voice coming from the kitchen. When I enter I’m greeted with the fragrant smell of onion and garlic baking in the oven, and him leaning against the counter, staring at something on his phone. I throw my arms around his torso and let my head rest on his chest.

He wraps one arm around me in return, his focus still on the screen, a screen I would be able to see if my eyes weren’t welling up with tears. I didn’t come over here with the intention of sobbing into his arms, I just wanted to update him on everything and try to gain some perspective, but it always seemed to end this way. 

Finneas doesn’t notice anything is wrong until he hears the quiver in the way I speak

“I fucked up.”

When he does realize, his phone is abandoned on the counter and both his hands hold my face, shifting my attention to him.

“Oh my god. You’re pregnant.” He says, trying to make me laugh.

“Shut up.” I grumble, pushing his hands away from me and taking a step back. 

“What happened?” he asks, focusing entirely on me now.

I explain myself as best I can, trying not to get overwhelmed as I recount it all. When I’m done, all Finneas can do is shrug.

“You told her you wouldn’t keep anything from her. Seems like you know what you should do.”

“God. I should be put down.” I huff.

Laughter bursts from Finneas when the words leave my mouth, and I cant help but smile a little too. “Like a dog?”

I nod, “Precisely.”

“God, thats awful. Shouldn’t we at least give you one last day? C’mon, what do you want? Leaf? Apple? Lentil burger?” He jokes.

The timer goes off, raising the hairs on my arms as Finneas takes mom’s special veggie quiche out of the oven. “You want some?”

I nod, my stomach rumbling at the realization that I haven’t eaten much all day. I hadn’t eaten much all week, even. I’d been preoccupied in my own thoughts.

I'm just so tired of feeling guilty and worrying that I might slip up. And still, there is always the question of why I slipped away to have conversations she couldn’t hear. Once again, she was right. This secret has drawn a line between us during tour. I had her and I didn’t.

Remy’s right. She’s almost always right. I had said that so often recently, it was beginning to feel like a mantra. I worry that she’s already caught on and she’s just waiting for me to confront her with my confession. I worry that she knows me so well, she doesn’t need me to say it.

But why? To torture me? To see what creative ways I might bend myself over and backward? Does she love to watch how faithful I am to nothing but her presence? Would it even matter? 

I would humiliate myself in front of her time and time again, if it meant sharing another bed, watching another movie, having another conversation… After all, nothing could ever surmount the jaw clenching, heart pounding, breathless anxiety of being without her. Of just simply knowing we aren’t on speaking terms. It is wholly and irrevocably pathetic.

My yearning… all pointless. 

She’s the entire ocean, and I, a lone observer. I could admire how the sunset reflects off her, and scream until my lungs burn how perfect I believe she is, but she would remain unaffected by something so small, so insignificant, so irrelevant to her great beauty. The only time I would have the pleasure of being close to her is when she reaches forth and allows it, gracing the tiniest parts of me with her refreshing touch, before withdrawing once more. 

“Billie…” Finneas breaks the spell.

I look down and I’m sitting at his kitchen table, with a fork in one hand, and a tight grip on my jeans in the other.

“You keep zoning out.” He takes a bite of quiche as it steams off the ceramic baking pan in front of us.

I take my first bite and I’m taken back to our old family home, where we grew up, and suddenly we’re in the old kitchen. Finneas and I are ten and fourteen years old, and we’re trying to sneak in a few bites of mom’s quiche, before she realizes it’s done baking. We squirm as the hot food touches our tongues, avoiding the long wait before it cools. Suddenly we’re kids again, sharing whispers behind mom’s back, stealing bites right out of the pan.

“Hey. Where’d you go?” Finneas asks.

I smile, “Nowhere bad.” I shovel another bite of veggie quiche into my mouth, not minding my manners at all. I know this is a safe space. I don’t have to hide or act here.

After our day together, I head for my home, prepping myself for yet, another sleepless night of overthought. The only difference about tonight, is tomorrow will be my big end of tour party. I run my skincare routine on autopilot, convinced that as long as I don’t neglect my face, I can neglect my mental health all I want. Girl math.

The doorbell rings to my surprise. I pull out my phone to check my cameras. It’s Remy. My stomach flutters up to my throat and I vigorously rinse off my face, patting it dry with a towel.

I rush off to the door to welcome her in. Avoiding her never works. She always runs straight through my mind, and back into my proximity.

“Hey, Rem, you okay?” I shut the door behind her.

“Yeah, I’m just checking on you.” She looks at me confused, “You’ve been so bland and dry in our texts and you keep blowing me off.”

I groan, acting casual and stretching my back nonchalantly, “Oh, sorry. I’ve just been real busy with writing.” I lie, again.

Predictable, I know.

I look down at the tote bag under her arm, full of clothes. She packed an overnight bag. This would normally fill me with joy, causing me to practically bounce off the walls and ceiling, but tonight, I’m at war with myself, inner turmoil boiling over in my mind.

“Is it okay? If I stay the night?” She smiles, twirling slightly in place. “I figured we can get ready together for your end of tour party tomorrow?”

“Yeah! I’d love that.” I grab the tote bag from her, throwing it over my shoulder, and lugging it upstairs, as she follows closely behind.

Upstairs, I finish out my skin care routine, moisturizing my face with a hairband holding back my hair.

“So? …Have you missed me?” Her silky smooth voice calls out from my bed, matching her velvety smooth skin in my sheets. That’s precisely where I’ve missed her. Wrapped up in my covers, swallowed up by my pillows, tangled up in my embrace…

I swallow before answering, “It’s only been, like, a week, you dodo.”

She lets out a small, breathy laugh, “I know, dummy. But, we’ve been together every single day for the last few months. I missed you…” She crosses her arms, all the way from her throne, in the sexiest way possible.

God, stop teasing me!

I shake my head jokingly, trying not to get my thoughts get in the way, “Ugh, darling, just admit it. You’re obsessed with me.”

“You wish.” She scoffs, waiting for me to join her. I take off my sweatpants, staying in only boy-short briefs, and my giant shirt.

I climb into bed with her, getting used to the idea of sleeping with her again. The same idea I’d been trying so hard to get off my mind.

“Now, what have you really been up to?” She lays beside me, not buying my previous excuse to going MIA.

“I told you. I’ve been in the basement writing new music, so the entire fandom doesn’t rip me to shreds for not dropping this second part of the album they think I wrote.”

(LMAO 😉)

“Ah. Any luck?” She props her head up on her arm.

“Not really. Writer’s block.” I wince, “Luckily I don’t have any due dates yet.”

She sits up, “You need to relax. You’ve been working hard, you just got back from tour a week ago, Bills.” She turns me on my stomach and lifts up my shirt.

I hold my breath as her soft, honey-like hands behind to rub all over my bare back. I groan, releasing the air in my lungs, “That feels good…”

“I’ll get lotion. Take your shirt off, I don’t wanna get it oily.” She hops over me to fetch the bottle of lotion in my bathroom.

I do as I’m told and remove my shirt, laying back down on my belly, burying my head in my arms. I allow my body to relax, just as she comes back over to me.

She climbs on top of me and sits on my butt, squirting my back with lotion. I tense back up, arching my back a bit, but not from how cold the lotion is.

She laughs, as she begins kneading out the knots in my back, “Relax!”

I do my best to relax, but how could I, when I’m shirtless and she’s on top of me, rubbing all over my naked body?

My back becomes her canvas, pale but ridden with goosebumps, as she swirls her oily fingertips all around my aching muscles.

“Try to close your eyes and forget about everything.” Her breath hits my glistening back, giving me chills.

After about hour of massages, my body gives into her magic touch. I don’t even realize that at one point, I’ve dozed off, and she’s covered me up in sheets and a comforter. The lights are off, and I am next to her, still half bare, as she sleeps.

[whisperingmidnights]

Chasing Starlight: Chapter 20

Pairing: Poly!Feysand x female!Reader

Summary: After Nyx’s birth, Feyre is seeking to ease her way back into her duties as High Lady and balance her time at the gallery with being a new mother. To ease her mind, she and Rhys have decided to hire a new nanny, who turns out to be far more than either of them had bargained for.

A/N: I decided to split this chapter into two separate chapters, so you're not waiting nearly as long for an update as you would be otherwise. Happy birthday to me means happy birthday to YOU. I hope you all enjoy it.

     I don’t need a healer to tell me how bad the poisoning is. I feel it to the very marrow of my bones, in the way my muscles burn and the endless exhaustion that plagues me like a phantom. It takes days to get out of bed on my own, and over a week before I’m able to walk the River House without assistance. All the while, healers buzz in and out of our rooms so quickly, I don’t have time to learn their names…not that I truly need to. Rhys and Feyre oversee everything, from the various potions and tonics and salves I use to manage the ongoing symptoms to the amount of movement I should be getting every day. I let them, and I still can’t decide if it is truly a betrayal of myself to allow anyone else to have that sort of control over my existence, or if it merely feels like one.

     From my seat in the window of this little corner sitting room, I can see Elain puttering around the garden, her golden brown hair tied back from her face. She had mentioned starting the process of preparing the flowerbeds for winter, but I hadn’t truly thought about it until I noticed the frost glistening on the ground and realized how much time has passed. Time I’ve lost. My gaze flicks to Lucien following dutifully behind her, ever the gentleman, but his eyes aren’t on his mate. Instead, his focus is on the bundled up, winged babe she’d deposited in his arms. To his credit, Nyx seems just as entranced as his chubby fists grab at the ends of Lucien’s crimson hair.

     ‘You’re drifting again.’ Feyre’s soft voice drifts through my wafer-thin shields with ease. She’s little more than a wisp at the edge of my mind, as far as she or Rhys dare to go these days, but I can tell she’s getting a peek at what’s captured my attention. ‘I promise he’s fine.’

     “It’s cold,” I murmur, and the Dawn Court healer seated across from my mates makes some startled noise, like she’d forgotten her patient was in the room. I glance over my shoulder to see her begin to rise, only to be stilled by Rhys’s hand raising in silent command. I feel him, too, slipping around the edge of the fragile shield I’d been holding that I finally allow to crumple. There’s no point in maintaining it if it’s not actually functional. Rhysand’s disapproval is thick as he settles a shield of his own around my mind: a barrier of strong, dark adamant I could not hope to penetrate on my own.

     ‘This feels unnecessary, no one is reading my mind here besides the two of you.’

     ‘I would have put a shield in place regardless, we’re leaving after this.’ The detached formality of his tone draws my attention back to him, and I narrow my eyes as he meets my gaze. He’s been distant since the morning after I regained consciousness, and I still can’t decide why. Fear? Trauma? Feyre says to give him time, but I’m not sure how much time it’s going to take for us to move past this, or if that’s even truly the answer. I know we will move past it, whatever it is, I just wish I knew how to help.

     ‘Where are you going?’ I ask, anxious at the idea of either of them leaving me so soon, even if it’s only for a meeting. We haven’t been apart since I woke, and I selfishly want all of the time I have to spend with them while I can.

     ‘We, Dove, you’re going, too. Helion has agreed to meet with us to see if he can break this spell,’ Feyre’s gentle response breaks through the tension beginning to bubble between us. ‘And you wanted to speak to Eris, which we’ve arranged for this afternoon.’

     ‘And we have to leave to do that?’

     ‘We prefer to hold meetings in less personal territory. Our official court residence is not in Velaris.’

     ‘Oh.’ It makes sense, truly, to not wish to host political allies or potential rivals in a previously hidden city. It also explains why they both look dressed for a more formal appointment than meeting with this healer. Speaking of, the healer clears her throat and my mates’ full attention shifts to her, but I turn to look out of the window once more.

     After weeks of testing, no one has been able to say anything beyond what we already know: there is some sort of spell surrounding the magical core in my mind that seems to have been constructed as a sort of barrier. Many decades of trapped magical power seems to have finally breached the confines of a spell degraded by time and the death of the original caster. The migraines and the reproductive issues that had seemed unrelated at the time, the draining, sometimes painful backlash I’d feel if I used too much of the little healing magic available to me…all turned out to be symptoms of a much larger issue that I’ve been shrugging off for most of my life.

     Because I’d assumed my problems were insignificant. That I simply had been born wrong. Less powerful than my family, a daughter who had grown to be a burden, someone meant to go unnoticed. It had never occurred to me that I might not have access to all of my power. I had overlooked myself for my entire life and now…now, after so many years of searching for purpose and love and finally finding it, I might not survive the year. I have no one to blame but myself.

     A shadow lingering at the edge of the window seat’s cushion curls towards me and I slowly turn my palm to the ceiling, allowing it to slither into my hand. My last memories of Azriel are of his boots appearing on the floor of the hall the day I fell ill, but Feyre says this shadow has not left my side. Our friendship is a strange one, but I’ve missed his quiet presence the days I’ve spent wandering this house. The shadow slithers through my fingers, then up the sleeve of my dress to settle in the cool darkness there.

     The seed of anger beginning to bloom in my heart stills with it. Blaming myself won’t do anyone any good now.

     ‘If we’re going to speak with Helion about my condition,’ I muse, prodding at the bond until I’m sure at least one of my mates is paying attention, ‘why are we meeting with this healer?’

     ‘To see if she had anything useful to say,’ Rhys responds, his voice rumbling with impatience. ‘Apparently she does not.’

     ‘Rhys.’ Feyre’s admonishment is sharp, but he doesn’t seem remotely chastened by it. I shake my head and glance out the window to see Lucien entertaining Nyx with a little, dancing figure crafted out of flame. The babe’s small, black wings flutter happily against his back and I press my tattooed hand against my heart at the sight. Elain glances up from the flowerbed she’s tending and a delicate pink flush lights her face as she watches them together. Feyre’s middle sister has always had a way with the babe, and it warms something in me to witness the delight on her face at the sight of her mate bonding with her nephew.

     Some people possess power, but others seem to be made of it. Elain is one of those people, something about her makes happy endings seem a little more possible. Even for someone like me.

     The click of a door closing pulls me out of my thoughts, and I turn to see Feyre at my side stretching out a tattooed hand. I press my hand into hers and allow her to help me stand, wincing at the way my joints and muscles burn as they bear my weight. The pain is more exhausting than the actual illness, and I think it will need to be an early night for me if I hope to feel remotely rested by tomorrow.

     “Are you all right?” Feyre asks, wrapping an arm around my waist as we begin our slow walk to the door. “If you need to rest-”

     “I’m fine,” I say with a sigh, leaning into her side for support. “Truly. I’ll need a little more rest tonight, but it’s not so bad I can’t handle it.”

     “You’ll tell us when you need to rest.” An order, not a question, but I nod anyway to appease the thread of worry hiding beneath her authoritative tone. I suppose she’s entitled to fuss a little. By the time we make it to Rhys, who has been watching us cross the room with an unnerving sort of focus, I hear the sound of heels clicking on the hardwood floor of the hall and perk up a little. That can only be Morrigan, home from a short trip to Rask. Rhys shifts my weight from Feyre’s arm to his in time for the door to open and his cousin to bustle through it, her long coat a cloud of blue swirling around her as she first gathers Feyre into her arms in a warm hug.

     “Hello, my dears,” she says warmly, kissing both of Feyre’s cheeks before she turns to us, hovering awkwardly while she sizes up how best to greet us both without jostling me unnecessarily. In the end, she settles for a kiss on each cheek and a hand smoothed over my hair as her brown eyes sweep over me. “How are you feeling, Dove? You look much better.”

     “I’m fine,” I assure her with a smile as I feel Rhys’s hand flex against my waist. “Tired, but fine…well, mostly fine.”

     “Did the healer have good news?” she asks, her wide eyes narrowing a little as she studies Rhys. Over five hundred years of friendship has given her an insight to my mate’s moods that I don’t ever hope to possess, I wonder what she’s seeing that I don’t.

     “We’ll be seeking another opinion,” is all the response the male at my side gives her. “Are you coming with us to speak with Helion? Amren has already declined.”

     “Oh, no, not tonight. I have…a few things to talk to you about regarding my trip.”

     “Speak with Amren first, then you and I will talk when we return in the morning.” I start at the implication that we’ll be away for the night. I hadn’t thought these meetings would take more than an afternoon. I haven’t been beyond the walls of this house since I fell ill, and suddenly this afternoon jaunt is becoming an overnight stay? I look to Rhys, whose eyes remain fixed on Mor, then to Feyre who only gives me a small, supportive smile. “Are you able to stay with Elain and Nyx tonight?”

     “Yes, of course. Where is my darling boy?”

     “In the rose garden with Elain and Lucien,” Feyre says, gesturing towards the window. “You’ll let us know if he begins crawling with any real enthusiasm, won’t you?”

     “You won’t miss it,” Mor promises with a small sigh, slipping her hands into the pocket of her coat. “I suppose I shouldn’t keep you, then, since it seems you’re on your way out. Breakfast tomorrow?”

     “You know where to find us if you need anything.” Rhys tells her with a brief nod, his violet eyes flicking to the clock on the mantle. “We should be going.”

     “I haven’t packed-” I stutter, digging in my heels a little, but Feyre shakes her head.

     “We’ve taken care of everything,” Feyre says, slipping her hand into mine. “I promise.”

     Of course they have. Of course they have. Knowing this does nothing to smother the flutter of anxiety in my stomach, but I nod in acquiescence and watch Rhys tuck her against his opposite side. I hate the feeling of the world dropping away from me like so much falling water, only to reform into somewhere else moments later. It’s disconcerting on a good day, but today my knees give way beneath me the moment solid ground is beneath my feet and I begin to pant, desperate to calm my roiling stomach before it spills its contents all over the pristine marble floor.

     “Breathe,” Rhysand’s voice is a strong, steady lifeline I cling to while my vision blurs and an ache begins to build behind my eyes. I can feel him rubbing slow, soothing circles between my shoulderblades, but it does little to settle my stomach. “You need to breathe.”

     The long, artistic fingers that smooth over my forehead and cheeks are delightfully cold, sparkling with frost, and I glance up to see Feyre’s starlight blue eyes focused on me with so much concern I feel I might crumble beneath the weight of it. Over and over, she runs her thumb along my brow bone and beneath my eyes until the ache subsides and it’s easier to breathe again.

     “I’m okay,” I mumble, sitting back on my heels as I finally get a good look at where we’re at. It’s a bedroom twice the size of most of the apartments I’ve lived in, constructed of moonstone pillars instead of walls. Gauzy azure curtains lend some illusion of privacy. The cold marble floor is covered with an assortment of complimentary rugs, the likes of which I’ve certainly seen hanging in a shop’s display window in the Rainbow. There’s a sitting area with plush sofas and chairs, each of which is covered with heavy throws in a variety of knits and furs. Beyond it is a large, heated pool that overlooks a scene of beautiful, snow capped mountain peaks. We’re so high up that even the clouds seem to drift around us. When I glance over my shoulder, I catch sight of a large bed covered in thick, comfortable blankets and the hanging lanterns that dot the room, gently glowing with faelight. An equally impressive wardrobe stands beside an arched doorway, beyond which I assume is a toilet and sink. “Oh, wow.”

     “Wait until you see the rest of it,” Feyre says, and I turn to see a wide, warm smile on her face that makes my heart stutter at the sight of it. I always want her to smile that way, carefree in a way I don’t think I’ve ever seen her. Even Rhys has shed the distance that’s haunted his features for a warm, content smile I haven’t seen in quite some time. I run my clammy hand along his cheek and watch him turn to kiss my palm, his hand catching my own to hold it there. A small, nervous laugh bubbles from my lips, filled with remnants of the anxiety that had previously plagued me. One of them should probably kiss me before it devolves into hysterical giggles borne of weeks of pain and worry.

     Luckily, Feyre seems to catch that absent thought and catches my chin between her thumb and forefinger. Her lips are soft and warm against mine, and I sigh against them as I melt into her kiss, returning it with all of the heat I can muster. My free hand curves around her thin shoulder, and I feel Rhysand’s lips against the tender skin of my wrist as he peppers kisses up to the cuff of my sleeve. ‘We’re okay,’ I think as Feyre pulls my lower lip between her teeth, not caring if either of them are still rattling around inside my mind as inadvertent witnesses to my thoughts. ‘We’ll be okay if we can get through this.’

     “We are more than okay,” Rhys murmurs as Feyre presses me back against his chest and trails kisses from the corner of my mouth and along my jaw to the pulse fluttering in my throat. I’d selected this dress for its loose fit and the flowy, breathable fabric, but the bodice suddenly feels much too tight, the skirts too much fabric between myself and the two people I want more than air. We’ve shared cuddles and a few chaste kisses here and there, mostly before bed, nothing of this intensity in so long I’ve almost forgotten what it felt like. Almost. “We’re going to get through this.”

     I want to tell him not to make promises he can’t keep, but there’s a conviction in his voice that grounds me. There is no hint of doubt, no room for it, only the certainty that he will find the solution to this problem. I want to believe him, more than anything. I want to trust him to find a cure, but he’s no healer. Neither of them are. If the healers can’t find a solution…no, no I won’t think of it now. I won’t ruin this moment with the sort of thoughts best saved for midnight wandering. Instead I lean up to kiss him and thread my fingers through the silky, dark hair at the back of his head.

     The warm press of his lips against mine is far too brief, interrupted by the cool slide of a shadow against my skin. I pull away to watch it slide from my arm onto the floor and melt into the darkness at the edge of the room. Rhysand’s long, dark eyelashes flutter for a moment like he’s waking from a dream, before his eyes clear and he seems to come back to himself. Together, we find our way off of the floor, but I feel the moment the mask slides back into place and the best of him is tucked behind a wall I cannot scale. A spark of intuition lights a cold fire in Feyre’s eyes and, though she’s straightening my dress and her own, it feels like she’s a thousand miles away.

     Arguing with him, if I had to guess, in a dark corner of his mind.

     “We’re staying here tonight?” I ask, though it’s more statement than question. I can’t imagine any of us wanting to find out how I’d react to winnowing twice in one day after such an unpleasant arrival the first time.

     “We’ll dress more comfortably for dinner,” Feyre promises with a distracted nod. “It will be just us, maybe Azriel-”

     “No,” Rhys says, and I turn to watch him slipping his hand into his pockets as the door opens with a wave of his hand. “He won’t be joining us tonight, I’m afraid. He’ll be looking after our guest.”

     “Which one? You have so many.” My tone is drier than I’d intended, but his lips quirk at the bite and Feyre reaches up to tug at my hair. It hadn’t liked that much in the past, but with her? My cheeks heat as vague memories of our night in the Day Court flood my mind and I wave a hand in front of my face, like that will clear them or, moreover, my reaction to them away on the breeze. “Why isn’t it cold here? This place doesn’t have many real walls to speak of.”

     “I like to think I’m above keeping my mates in a lofty palace that isn’t heated.”

     “Don’t listen to him,” Feyre murmurs, threading my arm through hers as she leads me from the room. “I asked the same question the first time he brought me here.”

     “You also threw a shoe at my head the first time I brought you here.”

     “Shoes.”

     “The second one doesn’t count, it didn’t land.”

     “Shall we try it again, Rhys? I think you’ll find my aim has significantly improved.”

     “Your aim has always been impeccable, darling.”

     “He maintains the enchantments so it is always available for use should we need it,” Feyre says, continuing our conversation as she rolls her eyes at his smug tone. I lean my head against her shoulder for a moment as we walk, wanting nothing more than the brush of her body against my own. I don’t know if it’s the mating bond driving me closer, making me crave them both with a growing sense of desperation, or if it’s the feeling of time closing in around us. Now that I’ve had a taste of it, I want so much more of them and this life we might have.

     The palace is beautiful, to be sure. I catch glimpses of several spiraling, moonstone towers with arched windows jutting out of the mountaintop as we move through the halls and up a short flight of stairs to the main floor, and each room I pass is beautifully, comfortably decorated. But it feels empty, more akin to a museum than a place one would raise a family. Had the previous High Lords been in residence here, or is it only opened for formal occasions? Unlike the River House in Velaris, I don’t notice any staff wandering the halls or dusting furniture. It feels like we’re the only people alive up here.

     “Why a palace on a remote mountain though?”

     “It sits above the other half of our court,” Rhys says, settling a hand on my lower back as he lengthens his strides to walk beside us. “The Hewn City was carved into this mountain a long, long time ago. There are natural springs that feed the river running through the city-”

     “Like a dark reflection of Velaris.”

     “Yes, actually. The court is more formal and the culture is vastly different from what we’ve built in Velaris. The citizens of the Hewn City largely govern themselves, and I interfere as little as possible.”

     “Why?” I ask, tilting my chin up to meet those lovely, star-flecked eyes. Shadows are beginning to swirl in them, a darkness I haven’t truly seen in him before, but I’m starting to wonder how many aspects there are of my mates that I’ve never witnessed. We’ve been rather insulated in their home in Velaris, where Rhys and Feyre are the benevolent, adored High Lord and Lady. I’ve not stopped to think about the rest of their territory and the faeries that inhabit these lands before, but perhaps I should. If we complete this mating bond, I will be…something more than a nanny, won’t I? Something formal, surely I would have duties or a title of my own, wouldn’t I? “Are they not your people, too?”

     “They are under my rule and my protection, yes. But no, they’ve never felt like my people. There’s a violence and cruelty to the High Fae living beneath this mountain that chafes against everything I stand for, and I won’t lie and say they’ve ever wanted me for a High Lord. I assure you, they have not, but they aren’t brave enough to attempt a coup.”

     “It would be rather pointless, wouldn’t it?” I glance over at Feyre to see her looking at me with a contemplative sort of interest, and I press on. “I mean, the two of you are obscenely powerful, right? You have power from seven High Lords, Feyre, that’s no small feat. And Rhys is the most powerful of them all, everyone knows that. I think it would be well acknowledged that any effort to truly stand against you both would be a death sentence. If they wanted to make a bid for total independence, that wouldn’t be the way to do it.”

     “I don’t know that they would want it, anyway. There’s a strict hierarchy within their society that requires the presence of a High Lord to satisfy, without that they would have to find a new way to govern themselves. I think they’re too set in their ways to attempt something new at this point.”

     “Perhaps with the older fae, yes, but what about the younger ones? Surely they have children who may want something different.”

     “It’s one thing to want something different, Dove, and another entirely to take a chance on it. I think you would know that better than most.”

     “I ran out of necessity, not because I wanted to.” I murmur as we step into what seems to be a main hallway with high arches and a ceiling glittering with dark, beautiful mosaic tilework. The tiles range from midnight blue and pale moonstone to chips of abyssal onyx that must have come from the mountain below, arranged in a flowing pattern that echoes the sky at midnight. Right above our heads is a decorative window looking directly into the overcast sky. There’s a cold sort of beauty to it that’s striking, but deeply lonely. I wonder if the Hewn City feels the same way.

     “What do you think?” Feyre asks, squeezing my hand to draw my attention back to her. I smile and brush my lips against her clothed shoulder, enjoying the way her own breath catches in her throat. More, more, I want so much more of that. Of her, of them. “You can’t keep having those thoughts if you expect us to get through meetings with Helion and Eris.”

     “Really, Helion is the one that matters,” Rhys says lowly, and I glance over my shoulder to see the darkness gathering in his gaze as he looks at us, suddenly every inch the predator taking in his next meal. When I look back to Feyre, she’s no better: a pale, beautiful wolf eyeing a prize doe, and I don’t think I mind being their prey. “Say the word and I’ll send Eris away-”

     “No,” I interject, swallowing hard against the need building within me. “No. I need to talk to him, I have questions that won’t wait. It took time to arrange this meeting, didn’t it?” Neither of them bother to confirm an answer I already know. “Who knows when we’ll have the opportunity again. Let’s just get through this and retire early.”

     “Very early,” Feyre warns and I nod, eager to please her. Rhysand seems satisfied by her response, if not enthused by it, and trails his hand up my spine to thread through my hair, pulling my face back to his with a sort of possession that feels more like slipping control. He kisses me with a bruising, vicious sort of need. With the way his teeth scrape across my already swollen lips, it feels like a sort of claiming. There will be no doubt in anyone’s mind what we were doing before we walked into that room and I want, no, need more of it. Our blossoming relationship has been such a private thing between the three of us, but I don’t want that anymore.

     I want everyone to know who I belong to and, in turn, that they are wholly mine.

     The unwelcome sound of boots echoing through the hall pulls Rhysand’s lips from mine, but his hand remains in my hair holding me against his chest as he turns my body to shield me from view, giving me a moment to collect myself. Feyre’s hand ghosts over my ribs before she steps away to greet the new arrival.

     “Azriel,” she says warmly, and I release a shuddering breath as I grip the front of Rhys’s black jacket, needing a moment more to truly steady myself. The pads of his fingers rub lightly at my scalp before he disentangles his hand from my hair and wraps the arm protectively around my shoulders. I hear Azriel greeting Feyre with equal warmth, though the low growl in my mate’s chest draws a derisive snort from the both of them while I just shake my head. Territorial fae male nonsense, but I don’t think he can help himself at this point if he’s feeling the pull of the mating bond the way that I am.

     “Has Helion arrived?” Rhys asks, clearing his throat as he turns us both to face his brother. Azriel’s face is stormy when gives a brief nod, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “And our guest has been contained?”

     “For now. She’s still too unstable to be alone for long, but I wanted to be the one to tell you that Eris isn���t coming.”

     “Why?” the High Lord asks too softly as I stiffen against his side. I have questions I need him to answer, I can’t…I can’t die without asking them-

     ‘Don’t go there,’ Feyre warns, her voice swirling through my mind like cold autumn mist settling over an orchard, blanketing every dark thought threatening to break through the haze of want clouding my mind. ‘We’re not going to let anything more happen to you, my love. You will not suffer any more than necessary. There is a cure for this and we will not stop until we find it.’

     I want to believe she’s right, that her conviction alone is enough to save me from this. I just don’t know if it’s true. I hope so.

     “Beron required his presence.”

     “For what?”

     “An execution.” The memory of fire and popping flesh rails against the prison I’d stuffed it in within the depths of my mind. A dark presence swiftly snuffs it out like the night closing in on a guttering candle flame, and the mist descends there as well. I suppose they’ve both decided that memory would bring unnecessary suffering, but the suppression of it doesn’t bother me as much as it probably should.

     “How interesting.”

     “I don’t have details yet, but I’ve sent someone to get them.”

     “I expect we should not keep Helion waiting, then.” Rhys drawls, smoothing a hand over the back of my dress. “Thank you, Azriel.”

     It’s then that the spymaster looks at me, and his hazel eyes warm a little at the sight. I think there will always be a sort of coldness to Azriel that feels as natural as the ever-circling shadows at his back, but there’s something about him that feels like home. Seeing him now reminds me how much I’ve missed him.

     “You look better,” he notes with a small smile as his gaze trails my form from head to toe with a trained precision. “Not well, but better.”

     “You don’t look so bad yourself,” I tease, suppressing a giggle at the way Rhys twitches at my side. The corner of the spymaster’s mouth twitches and he shakes his head, a warning if I’ve ever seen one. Feyre shoots Rhys a look of long-suffering exasperation and I train my eyes on my friend, afraid that if I look at either of my mates I won’t be able to stop laughing. “You’ll have to join us for dinner soon, if only to see your nephew. I swear he grows every time I look at him.”

     “Soon,” he replies with a nod. “I promise. I won’t keep you any longer, have a good night.”

     “You too.”

     “Goodbye, Az,” Feyre says, leaning in for a brief hug. “Thank you.”

     “Of course, Fey.” His words to her are gentle, significantly less formal. A brother giving an affectionate goodbye to a beloved sister. I don’t know that we’ll ever have a relationship like theirs, but I’m not sure I’d want that. I had brothers once and I’d loved them deeply, I don’t know if I would want to replicate that bond with anyone else. But knowing the way Feyre grew up, I don’t blame her for seeking the easy, familial affection she’d lacked most of her life. Once they part, Azriel turns to leave and one of the shadows at his heel breaks away to swirl briefly at my feet before it darts towards a door. He’s gone in a flash of darkness and Rhys rolls his shoulders before he tucks my hand into his elbow and gestures towards that door.

     “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

     “Then to bed,” Feyre purrs, her blue eyes darting between us as a feline smile tugs at her lips. I swear for a moment I feel Rhys shiver at my side. When I open my mouth to tease him, she looks at me and I get the briefest glimpse of her head between my thighs and the words die on my tongue as I fight to keep my own breathing steady.

     “Yes, darling, then we’re going to bed.”

[andhumanslovedstories]

hey here's another question that I've been thinking about for about a week with no particular breakthrough. I'm so much on the healthcare side that all my advice is on that side. Dude, I read academic articles for this and didn't come up with anything particularly useful. That's why I'm answering this publicly, so other people hopefully add something useful. (Also I know you said you're not looking for opioids. I'm gonna talk about opioids anyway they certainly affect perceptions of chronic pain. In your case, try making clear early on that you don't want opioids.)

I'll say some things that I've noticed from my work to maybe provide some insight into healthcare's side of the exchange. I'm not saying this is the way things should be, I'm giving advice based on how I see things are. I wish I could say this wasn't the case, but when there's a pain medication standoff, the two ways I've seen it work out best for a patient are:

A third party advocates for the patient. (like family, nurse, social worker, different specialist, patient advocate, etc)

Change in caregiver.

I don't like those as the top answers, but that's what I've seen and it's consistent with a lot of the accounts I encountered. There is also a third way that the pain medication standoff can quickly end in a patient's favor:

3. New evidence (new symptom, imaging, vital signs, lab test, etc) forces a reexamination of how we're thinking about the patient.

This is also the "oh shit they seem worse" method, but it can also be "we have gained new information that re-contextualizes the information we already knew." This is like hey the xray came back, your whole bone is dust, or hey your blood pressure is now significantly higher, or hey oops your appendix exploded.

In all three cases, something new happens to change the dynamic. This works for healthcare providers operating in good faith because someone comes in fresh and/or the new dynamic causes the healthcare team to do a new assessment and cost/benefit analysis with this updated information. This works for healthcare providers operating in bad faith because they are either removed from the situation or put in a position where giving pain medication is less onerous than not giving pain medication. I genuinely, genuinely believe far more healthcare employees are operating in good faith rather than bad faith, although the end results can look the same from the patient side. This means I think that far more people are swayed by additional information that makes pain management have more benefit and less cost.

I don't know how actionable any of this is from the patient side unfortunately. I don't love being like "my advice? wait till shift change, see if you can shake it up." Bring someone to the emergency department with you if you have someone available, preferably someone prepared to make a fuss on your behalf. If you don't have a third person, see if you can get one. Hospitals can have patient advocate as a job. If they aren't available, is there someone on your healthcare team that seems most sympathetic? Try asking them if they have any advice. They might be able to give you some, they might advocate for you. Be careful about badmouthing staff to other staff and avoid compliments to one member of the team that relies on insulting another member. You don't know the relationships at play, and it's sort of like how you shouldn't trash talk your old job when interviewing for a new job. You may be completely right in everything you're saying, but being like "my boss was a crazy asshole who refused to recognize my work," doesn't come off as objective. It can undercut your credibility and introduce hostility into the conversation where it is not productive.

I'd also be prepared to talk about what you already tried to relieve the pain. Again, with you I'd mention upfront that you don't want opioids because they don't work for you. Then say what you have already tried at home before you came in (tylenol, ibpurofen, heating, ice, exercises, stretching, shower, other meds, etc) and the effect of both the pain (can't sleep, makes you nauseated, had to call off sick from work, aren't able to be a caregiver to someone, etc) and your already attempted interventions (no significant pain control, symptoms got worse, called PCP, they said emergency was the next step, etc). If your condition is chronic, compare it on the pain scale and the functionality scale to your baseline. (i.e. "I'm always at least a 3 out of ten on the pain scale, but it doesn't usually leave me bedbound." "Normally Symptom improves after Intervention At Home, but that didn't work this time.") Something that can make providers hesitant is if opioids, benzos, or other powerful drugs are the first and only thing a patient says will help and they're unwilling to try anything else, so sometimes demonstrating flexibility with your pain plan can signal "I'm not here for oxy to sell, I'm here because I want my symptoms to stop (and, if relevant, figure out what is causing them)."

Also if you can and feel safe doing so, consider providing feedback to the hospital. Nothing changes without something documented.

[lychgate]

Echo brain comic?? My beloved?

this one's pretty new and id like to in the least get some segments drawn up if i can

i went balls deep in depth about my personal ideas of Echo's structure and how it works, it has much more writing rn then art lemme get some snippets:

tech and echo begin digging around in his wiring as echo's health has lately began to decline rapidly. Blood transfusions are becoming daily, exhaustion occurs much quicker, and newest to the issues are these seemingly random seizures. They've attempted many outside options at remedying the problem but it was becoming urgently clear that the only way to get answers would be to open up his system and understand exactly how his body operates from the inside out. Echo is mostly on edge because he fears finding the answer that is he's just doomed to die soon, and that his body was in no way sustainable outside of that fridge. He fears the idea of dying so much that he has manic considerations of being put back in some sort of stasis chamber. Death, which he never feared prior to the citadel, but now he's come to be you know uhhh quite traumatized from it. But he also hates the idea of that fridge!! caught between two terrible options, wowie here ill add some more breakdown of that in a read more if anyone is interested in paragraphs of bullshit:

as for a brief descriptor on the shit on his head and body, from this paragraph:

Tech: these rivets across your skull are not simple ports one can just plug into. They're a very unique structure, containing an extremely delicate, but long system of thin metallic fibers wiring throughout your brain. These 'rivets' then act as anchors to those metal fibers, which then respond to very specific electric signals that we can access at the nodes on the surface here. If the signals sent are not exact. Well. Echo: yeah I get it I get it.

and some write up on how Tech begins to diagnose the problem:

Eventually Tech will find his way into deeper functions of the brain, finding shortcuts that were already developed by the Techno Union scientists for the sake of their own equipment likely. Categorized sections for monitoring all sorts of chemicals and levels within Echo's body, most of which were left on an automatic function to regulate.

Tech begins to understand that the key issue is that this program, and these automatic functions, were fitted for exactly the stasis chamber Echo had been put in, and if they want to begin fixing Echos phsyical body, he would have to start going in and coding line for line, functions that pertain to the body on a sustainability outside that fridge. Some functions were completely turned off, being that Echo was getting fed certain synthesized chemicals thru the machine, his brain had to be telling itself NOT to produce said things naturally.

But it's all very finicky work that requires continuous maintenance and updates, not much unlike a patch update to any other computer program, except this is Echo's life. It's an impossible amount of code to do in any short time frame, and so Tech will begin splicing lines of code from similar organic droids with systems of similar complexity.

They handle these sessions once per week, giving time for Echo's body to catch up and adjust. At first he begins feeling some nausea, his heart rate starts rising, but he insists something feels good about it and urges Tech to keep going. Echo begins to feel warmth back in his body, his mood increases, after about a month hair begins to grow again, muscle mass fills in what once was skeletal limbs, nail beds regain a lively shine. Besides a few errors in updates like over producing a chemical or small bouts of insomnia, everything seems On Course.

and then:

So now we get into the meat of the drama, which is a lot of Echo mania and identity issues:

By this point Tech has outfitted much easier screw on parts so they can go in and out of this program faster (the set up previously was hours of work) so pulling that up he theorizes that he will have to do more then just reverse programs that the Techno Union set up. Tech now believes he'll have to create NEW systems, as the old program appears to be getting corrupted from all of Tech's editing. The seizures are, at this point to their best guess, coming from this. That parts of his brain are literally crashing, and soon he's going to start having more serious issues like bro is gonna just have a massive stroke at some point. Tech points that out all regular voice and Echo is just 'great im back in the mental swamp' Now that Echo's learned that he has corrupted files eating away at his brain, and that the chance of having a massive stroke is like inevitable, he's back to feeling like anxious shit. It doesn't help that this will take Tech a lot of time to figure out. Truthfully he's putting as much effort as he can into it, but this is when Echo begins to get Really mentally unwell. He's both worrying and also trying NOT to worry out of fear that it's going to complicate the program even more. Echo begins to have identity issues, coming to rely more on the mechanics then the organics that make him. He doesn't feel like a human with robot parts anymore, he feels like a robot with human parts.

and it keeps going like there's parts where echo is begging Tech to up programs on dopamine generation and Tech has to turn him down cause that would just be creating an addiction problem, situations where Echo starts trying to mess with his own brain, situations where he tries to kill Tech, its a lot of rambling but im not a writer, like i can't write for shit and I'd like to try and draw it instead

[shadowwolf146]

An update on my newest fanfic WIP, "It Ain't Over Til the Mockingjay Sings" where Katniss and Lucy Gray meet each other! (And no I didn't sleep lol, I got inspired and worked on this instead.) I'm making it into its own post separate from the idea post so I can tag and update it easier. Sorry for the confusion!

Let me know if you wanna be tagged when it's all done, (it'll also be cross posted to AO3 with a link back here) or if you'd rather be tagged in all the updates I make, or both! I'm gonna try and re-tag the people I tagged on the first post (and the ones who liked it) just for ease of access/visibility! Please feel free to comment if you do (or don't) wanna be tagged! Thanks, and enjoy the WIP! @gabrielekazlauskaite @thebatliestman @bogwaterrr @akin-toitall @isdango-tan @crowsaresocool @shewhowillrise @nixandtonic @nymph-of-books @boggyblazingmood @eeveeeeeee @thatbritishcanadiangirl @sugarhoneyice-t @crispycomicsscienceeggs @bio415 @jxtghost @insert-clever-username-1133 @the9thring @multiplefandommess

I don't know how long I've been dreaming, but unlike most of them, tonight's off to an odd start.

The girl in front of me is new though, that I know. I don't recognize her from anywhere in the waking world I can think of, but somehow she seems...familiar. I can't remember having seen her anywhere around during or after the Games or the Quarter Quell. And her face doesn't remind me of anyone I've met who's died. Not in the Districts, nor the Capitol. Though admittedly most of my time spent in the latter was not about sightseeing; not even on the Victory Tour did I really get a chance to meet people up close. And if I had met this girl in my waking hours, I don't think I would've forgotten her. She's pretty, in a down to earth kind of way, not like the flash and flair of the Capitol and certainly not the struggling, desperate looks I'd seen on many faces in the lower districts, including 12.

She's got dark hair, loose and long, curly and cascading down her shoulders and back. She's got dark brown eyes, that are currently calmly observing me as much as I am her. I see a sort of fire in them too, a lot like Johanna's, and even scarier, like my own; which is simultaneously a little worrying and somehow, strangely comforting. She's holding some kind of stringed instrument in her lap. But the most eye-catching thing about her is what she's wearing. Her dress is a long, frilly thing, with colors that are vibrant and remind me of Effie's makeup, of the Capitol. It's a rainbow, I realize. Reds and oranges, yellows and greens, all stacked on top of each other, ending in an ombre of blues and purples that would make Cinna's eyes light up.

“Well hello there,” she says, adjusting the instrument so it’s lying face up across her now crossed legs; her voice is calm, curious. She has an accent, one I remember my mother teasing my father about, when Prim and I were small. It sounds like District 12. It sounds like home. “And who might you be?”

She smiles, and despite the light tone, I can see the analysis going on behind her eyes. She’s sizing me up, maybe? Trying to figure me out. Instead of answering right away, I narrow my eyes at her and fire back a question of my own. “What is this place?”

She chuckles, bemused but not surprised by my meeting her question with a question. She shakes her head, sighs, and shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know, darlin’. I’m just as confused as you are.” The girl looks up and around then, at the area where we sit. I, with nothing else to do for the moment, follow suit. Everything around us is a dull whitish-gray, no color outside of our clothes and hair to speak of. No furniture is present, no pictures hang anywhere around. It’s…unfamiliar, detached from reality, even. It seems like somewhere The Capitol would love, the cold sterility and uniformity of the place seems like the perfect place for experiments.

Like hijacking. Some suspicious part of my mind supplies, as the girl turns back to face me. Like what they did to Peeta. Remembering those awful days in District 13, after the Revolution, sends a shiver through me. And then it hits me.

Peeta. Where’s Peeta?

There’s a pit in my stomach, my heart starts to race, and then I remember: I’m dreaming. I sigh, and the girl looks back at me. “Well, we may not know where we are, but we do know who we are, at least, I hope you do. Anyways, my name is Lucy Gray Baird, but most my friends just call me Lucy Gray. Nice to meet you.” She sticks out a hand, and I flinch at the movement, a holdover from, well, everything.

Embarrassment swiftly follows, but Lucy Gray, to her credit, and my relief, says nothing, just nods and brings her hand back to her lap, running it gently over the side of her instrument, a look of understanding passing over her face. My cheeks heat, and I can feel my face getting red, so to distract us both, I finally introduce myself.

“My name’s Katniss,” I say, hunching my shoulders a little, waiting for recognition to dawn, already leaning away from the comments I’m sure I’ll receive when I finish saying my name. “Katniss Everdeen.” I watch Lucy Gray’s face for a reaction, and she surprises me by not giving me one. Is she pretending not to know me? I wonder. Is this some sort of trick? Some sort of ruse cooked up by some higher-ups in the Capitol to get me to reveal myself? I search her face for a few long quiet minutes, barely holding back my discomfort, and then again I remember I’m asleep. This is all happening inside my head. I want to smack myself at my own stupidity, but I’m spared the brain-scrambling effects of my palm against my forehead by Lucy Gray’s voice, saying, “Katniss, huh? Beautiful name. We’ve got plants by that name where I come from. Technically they’re tubers, roots really, but if you cook ‘em right, they’re edible, even good in a pinch, like potatoes. Were your parents farmers, then?”

I shake my head, and then mumble the word: “Miners. My father was, at least. He taught me how to hunt and harvest plants in the woods near our house.” I laugh a little, the sound of his voice coming back to me from what seems like so long ago, it feels like a different lifetime. Lucy Gray is smiling a little, and so I go on, finish the joke. “He used to say, ‘There’s the plant I named you for, Katniss. As long as you can find yourself, you’ll never starve.”

I laugh again, but it’s bitter, bubbling up past a sudden lump in my throat. The one that always shows up when I remember my father, when I remember losing him, and all that happened after. Lucy Gray laughs too, but hers is genuine, and warm. Like my mother, on her better days, before-

“My parents were Covey,” Lucy Gray blurts out, tugging the instrument in her lap upright and close to her chest, hugging an arm over it protectively. “This dress belonged to my mother. This guitar-(so that’s what it’s called)-was my father’s. At least, according to the others anyway. I had some older siblings too, but I don’t really remember them much. I was so young, and they were a few years older, maybe six or seven, by the time I was born.” Her voice takes on a bitter note. “Then, after the Rebellion in the Districts, the Capitol killed my father. By then, my mother had already died while having me, and my siblings must've passed soon after. So, all I have left are my cousins.” Lucy Gray sighs again, the noise wistful and quiet. It goes silent again, and before I can fill it, Lucy Gray perks up a little, a smile curling one corner of her mouth. “But they’re not so bad. We take care of each other, and we’re all related one way or another anyway, either by blood or by bond, so we’re basically a family either way. And besides, nothing to be done about the past, all we can focus on is living in the present, right?” I nod, but my mind has already begun to tune her out, stuck glitching like one of Betee’s propos, repeating the phrase, “After the Rebellion in the Districts, the Capitol killed my father.”

I shake myself out of it long enough to ask what I feel like I already know. “And where are you from, Lucy Gray?”

She smiles again, and says, “Well, Katniss, I’m not really from anywhere in particular. Like I said, my people are Covey. Meaning, we move around a lot, we’re musicians by trade. We used to live like that just fine for a long while, following where the fancy took us, until the Peacekeepers rounded us all up and made us settle.”

I’m not sure why, but my palms are sweating. I’m nervous to know her answer, but it seems that unlike me, she’s a professional when it comes to dodging questions. “So,” I say, curiosity turning into a biting thing under my skin, making me itch. I scratch at my arm absentmindedly trying to curb the feeling. “Exactly where did the Covey settle?”

She smirks, and some part of my mind says she knew I was going to ask her that. And then she confirms what my brain had already realized.

“Well, it wasn’t our first choice, believe me, but after we were all rounded up, the Peacekeepers just kept pushing, until eventually we ended up in District 12.”

——

I don’t really know why I’m so surprised by it. It’s not an uncommon story in any of the Districts, but especially the lower ones. Losing your parents young, being taken in by strangers if you were lucky, or the group home if you weren’t. Seems Lucy Gray was one of the lucky ones, to end up where she did, playing music and travelling around, even if only for a little while.

I think of my days and nights after my father’s death, young and terrified, mad with hunger. Back when the only thing that kept me moving was the thought of Prim wasting away to nothing. My mind conjures up days of empty bellies, of a few lucky breaks of bread or my namesake’s roots and fish, or berries, but mostly nights spent hearing the growl of Prim’s stomach (and my own) echoing off the walls of that house, bigger and emptier without my father’s soul to help fill it; and contrasts it with imaginings of warm fires, surrounded by music, food, and laughter.

I feel a tinge of jealousy, at first, until I remember what those times cost her: the lives of both her parents, and her siblings. Despite losing my father young, and in a way, my mother too, I had support. I had solidarity with (and worry for) Prim, that I wasn’t alone in my hunger. I had a little help, even, later on. From Gale and Peeta. Even during the Games, though that came much later, from Cinna and Effie and even Haymitch, in his gruff, alcoholic ways. They were sort of like my Covey. They helped keep me safe, keep me alive, helped me get back to Prim, to my mother. Helped Peeta and me back to each other. So a part of me is grateful that she was able to have light in her life, going through all of that.

My internal musing must show on my face somehow because she says, “Don't feel bad, sweetheart, you look like you've seen your share of hard times too. Besides, it's not a competition.”

That sounded like Haymitch, I think, with surprise. And then, before I can think about it, I hear myself say quietly, “I'm from twelve too.”

Lucy Gray’s face brightens, then dims. “Oh! Oh. I figured when you mentioned mining, but I didn't want to assume. I'm sorry. If it is-was-” she pauses, shaking her head, the weird liminal space of my dreamscape not really lending itself well to timekeeping. She shakes her head, keeps going. “If twelve is anything like I remember it, we’ve both had it rough.”

For a moment, Gale’s words from what felt like a hundred years ago, but that I know can only be a few years at the most, ring in my head. "Katniss, there is no District 12.”

I shiver again, the memory bringing the cold of that table in the hovercraft along with it, and this time, Lucy Gray notices. She frowns, brow furrowing, and scoots herself a little further forward, closer to me, concern practically written across her face. “You okay, Katniss? I don't think there's any blankets here, but I'm sure we can find something to warm you up.”

[quizicalgin]

Since I was recently tagged on making CC in milkshape, I figured I'd copy and paste what I know from my other blog, rather than just forwarding the page here for ease of viewing. It’s the FAQ page for creating CC under the read more.

What do you use to make mods?

S3PE is used to export snippets of the code to edit to make tuning mods. If you wanna make some yourself, HERE is the tutorial to learn how.

What do you use to make objects/clothing/hair?

This one has a few answers depending on what you mean specifically.

TSRW mainly for cloning and editing objects. It also lets me export the files in simpack and package formats.

If you want the version of TSRW BEFORE the sims 4 versions, you can get that HERE. This is important to note because some other programs used for CC creation aren’t fully compatible with the newer version of the TSRW’s WSO files.

If it’s an object that needs a fourth channel added, but it isn’t supported, Texture tweaker by Ignes Jones is what gives the object that channel to work with.

For meshing I use milkshape, and I’m currently working on learning how to use blender instead, since it’s freeware and has a lot more that can be done with it. However, it seems like the plugins from TSRW no longer work with blender, but there are plugins to have blender import geoms HERE that are best used with blender version 2.8-2.9.

There are some additional plugins for Milkshape that makes working in it much easier. There is an align normals plugin set by Demon 432 HERE, and the Unimesh plugins by Wes Howe found HERE. Lastly, to make UV editing easier in Milkshape there’s the CatofEvilGenius UV plugin HERE. They also have a UV flipper too.

For editing textures I personally use Photoshop and here’s how to add DDS usage to it with a link already there in it to download the necessary files. If you use Gimp instead, you can get the DDS files for it HERE. Installation should be similar to PS’s, just look for the file formats.

HERE is a link to the faces and scalps for when I need to model hair or jewelry, since doing it right on the head is much easier. Teens and elders aren’t in here because they aren’t that much different from the adult head.

Is that everything you use?

No there’s also:

Delphy’s Dashboard – Used to make sure my package files aren’t corrupt and won’t make sims implode. It’s also good for checking if anything you already have may be corrupted (a lot of it out there sadly is through no fault of the creator. It just happens during creation sometimes)

S3OC – Another program that lets you clone files, save unlike TSRW it can clone interaction objects, like toothbrushes, game controllers, bowls, plates, and other things that only appear for certain situations. The downside is everything mostly appears in strings with few images, but most of the names make sense for the items. Just sort by name and get to scrollin.

Compressorizer – This compresses simpack and package files in order to help keep the game running smooth. Due to some of its functions, remember to back up your CC and games before using the program.

MeshToolKit – This one is indispensable for creating custom content if you’re adjusting meshes just a bit, or using it to give completely new weight assignments (what makes it move and work like a sim body part) and morphs (the thin to thick range, pregnancies included). Thornowl also made an updated version that can be downloaded HERE.

Normal/Bump map plugins – They’re necessary for any CC you make, as most art programs don’t natively have the ability to make them. Now there are a couple different sets you can download and use depending on your art program of choice.

You can get the ones for GIMP HERE, with the link to the downloads on that page.

The ones for Photoshop can be gotten HERE, and this is a mediafire link because I personally had difficulty using NVIDIA’s newer exporter

And I THINK that’s everything, if I think of or get asked anything else I’ll edit this as needed.

[campbyler]

the ppl that complain abt updates are actually so bewildering to me bc im literally 2k words into my fic and it has taken SO LONG 😞 not to mention the fact that no matter how long i wait for your updates, i truly never get bored because i js come on your tumblr everyday to see what you guys have been posting on here and it 100% makes up for the long awaited updates (not that you have anything to make up for anyway) you guys are truly SO incredible for what you do bc i could NEVER 😭 i literally talked to my friend abt ur fic and how the waits are usually long (wasn’t complaining abt it) and she was like “oh my god i could never wait that long for a fic” and i immediately came to your defense and was like “yeah but it’s okay bc the long ass chapters always make up for it and the fact that they post on tumblr almost daily”

prefacing my accidental ramble by saying that if we ever seem disproportionately annoyed at something someone said then it’s definitely because it is not disproportionate to Us!! little comments and things like that add up over time, so it’s rarely about just that one thing someone says and absolutely more of an overarching pattern that gets tiring really fast. and not to dredge everything back up again bc it’s rare that we get someone being super weird and rude outright about longer or delayed update times but we get soooo so many asks or comments etc like the one thea answered earlier which just include little remarks that come off as just passive aggressive and just kind of kill the vibe of getting a really nice message?? very much like “oh i miss when we only had to wait a couple weeks for updates but your fic is so good!” or “this was so good but don’t know how im going to wait months for the next chapter :(“ and just stuff like that which gets pretty frustrating over time, especially when they’re coming from people who blew through a 30k update in like 45 minutes lol. we see so much of this over on twt especially, maybe because we’re not as active there and people are not saying it To Us so they think we don’t see it but there’s also a lot of likeeeeee “i want to start acswy but im Traumatized by authors abandoning their fics so im just waiting until they’re done” or “i want to catch up but the update intervals are so long😭” and that sort of thing which is also just kind of frustrating to see come up over and over again, esp bc sometimes people have actually said that to us? like in our inbox??? for some entirely unknown reason??? like why are you telling us on this blog that you don’t want to read our fic until it’s done. good luck getting through 500k in one sitting then idk what to tell you 🤷🏽‍♀️

anyways all that to say thank you so much for your message of support it’s very much appreciated! sometimes the demands (even if they’re said as a joke) and little side comments that are slipped into really nice messages can def make us feel like our readers see as us people who are putting out a product and not people who are just trying to share a passion project with our little corner of the internet, but we also know that most of you are not like that and especially the people who regularly interact w this blog and send in asks and comments are so lovely! thank you for coming to our defense 🫡

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Coda: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: When parents go missing, the only witness left behind is a ten-year-old boy with autism. The team must work with him in order to figure out who might have taken his parents. Meanwhile, Emily's world is crumbling down around her and there is nothing she can do to stop it.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If any warnings exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

You and Emily head over to the bank immediately and get there in ten minutes. You're about to go inside when you feel Alison. Her energy. She's terrified. You look to the street and see the car she got into. The unsub's truck. You walk to the back of it but only two numbers are available on the license plate. The rest is covered by black smoke. The car pulls out into traffic and disappears into the crowd.

You turn and head inside where Emily is sitting with a bank manager.

"The account was frozen. How did she take the money out?" Emily asks.

"We're on an old system. It only updates every night at midnight."

"How much did she want?"

"Well, she wanted to close out her account, but I told her I wouldn't be able to give her everything today. We can't afford it."

"How much is everything?"

"Forty-two thousand, one hundred and seventy-six dollars and forty-one cents."

"The bank doesn't have that?" you ask.

"Not anymore. Mrs. Sparks isn't the first customer to consider closing her accounts."

"Can we take a look at the security footage you have?"

The manager turns her computer toward you and Emily and pulls up the footage. Alison is at the front counter alone, and she doesn't seem to be overly paranoid. The unsub is waiting in the car outside. He trusts her enough to go in alone.

"There's no sign of the unsub. She doesn't look over her shoulder. She doesn't try to warn you or anyone else in the bank?" you ask.

"No."

"What did she say to you when you told her you couldn't give her all the money?"

"I told her I could get her ten thousand now and the rest in two days, but she became hysterical and kept saying that that's not enough."

"Did she tell you what the money was for?"

"No. She just asked for what she could get and she left."

"The unsub is probably holding Charlie at a secondary location which means he might still be alive."

You and Em head back to the police station where Penelope is talking with the team.

"I have run every 'L' I can find, think of, or make up in my giant magic head and nothing hits. I even ran the number fifty in case Sammy has some sort of predilection for Roman numerals. Came up dry."

"Any luck on finding Sammy's next of kin?" Hotch asks.

"In name only. Charlie has a sister named Elizabeth who was last reported residing in Mont Belvieu, Texas. She's not responding to calls or emails."

"Elizabeth," Spencer says. "The 'L' could stand for Liz or Lizzie. Garcia, we need to find her and fast."

"I will move so fast, the earth will reverse its rotation and time bend backward," she says and hangs up.

"Alright, so this unsub has the money he needs. Why hasn't he let the Sparks go?" Derek asks. "He has to be holding them for a reason."

"We might have an answer to that," you say as you walk in. "Alison tried to withdraw forty grand from the branch in Bayside, but she only got ten."

"Maybe he's holding them until he gets the money he needs."

"I think it's more than that," Emily says. "I think he wants a specific amount. Alison kept telling the bank manager that ten grand wasn't enough. That says to me he's told them what would be."

"I saw their energies and was able to get a partial plate. Only two. Alpha-Tango. I don't think that will help, though."

"Sheriff, we're ready to give the profile." Police men and women gather in the main room. "We believe the man you are looking for is in danger of losing a home, property, or a business. We want to focus on residents with large families, single-income households, and anyone with a financial responsibility for others."

"That responsibility is probably what drove the unsub into action. Now, he had no intention of hurting either of his victims. For him, the abduction of Charlie and Alison Sparks was an unfortunate but necessary means to an end. This area has been ravaged by last summer's oil spill, so look for down-and-out fishermen, boat owners, or anyone who used to work in the tourist or beach industries."

"Compare that list to people working part-time or under-the-table jobs. This unsub didn't start with extortion, he was pushed there," Hotch adds to Derek's thought.

"This man feels such a strong obligation to his dependents that he's willing to kidnap and steal from people he knows. He may be in the process of losing someone close to him or has already. Look at recent divorce filings and child custody cases."

"The unsub went to a bank in the next parish. That tells us he has his own mode of transportation, and he is conscious of the FBI's involvement in this case," you say. "By now he realizes the Sparks' accounts are frozen, so he'll be seeking alternative ways to get the rest of the money he needs."

"Canvass banks, pawnshops, and any place that offers quick cash with minimal questions. Thank you very much," Hotch concludes.

Without Sammy's parents, there's a slim chance of getting him to communicate. However, there is one person who might be able to help outside of his family and that's his teacher, Ms. Rogers. Spencer leaves to get her while you and Rossi are inside the empty office to monitor Sammy. He is sitting quietly just drawing. You walk closer to Sammy to see what he's drawing. It's a bunch of blue squares, some colored in and some not. You look at Rossi and notice the bottom of his shoe. You look between the two before addressing Rossi.

"He's drawing the bottom of your shoe."

Rossi looks at the bottom of his shoe to see the same pattern as the one Sammy is drawing. Spencer and Ms. Rogers enter the room and she immediately notices the many drawings.

"Oh, he's been busy. What are those?"

"We have no idea. We're trying to find his aunt right now, but we're hoping that maybe in the meantime you'd be able to help us get through to him."

"Okay, I'll try, but even before this happened, Sammy wasn't wild about talking." she takes a seat next to Sammy and takes out picture flashcards. "These help some kids with autism learn routines."

On the flashcard is a school bus with an analog clock that reads 2:15. You frown slightly at the flashcard. You're not sure what it is but something about that card is nagging at you.

"Sammy, what's this?" Ms. Rogers asks.

Sammy looks at the card and panics. He starts rocking back and forth in complete panic, and you put a hand to your mouth in concern.

"Do you have any idea what that 'L' might stand for?" Spencer asks.

"I have no idea. Sammy. Sammy, you're safe. It's me, Ms. Rogers. I'm here. I'm here, Sammy. You're safe."

Sammy calms down after a few seconds and starts tapping the paper with the blue squares.

"I've never seen that. I don't know what it is," Ms. Rogers says.

"Is he trying to type?" Rossi asks.

"He's playing the piano," you say. "Can we get a keyboard in here?"

"There's a piano at his house."

"You want to take a ten-year-old boy back to the crime scene where his father was shot?" Ms. Rogers gasps.

"Sammy's trying to tell us something. I think it's important we try to figure out what."

"Well, who decides whether the harm to Sammy's well-being is worth whatever information you may or may not get by doing such a thing? He's a child, and I don't think you get to choose what's best for him."

Just then, Emily walks in with a woman you've never seen before.

"Everyone, this is Lizzie Sparks, Sammy's aunt."

If anyone has any say about what happens with Sammy, it's Lizzie. You take the conversation outside and leave Sammy alone to color in the office.

"I still don't see why you have to take him back to that place," Ms. Rogers scoffs.

"Sammy was playing the piano when his parents were abducted, so taking him back to the exact location might trigger an important response."

"He's fragile. It could also wound him further."

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do here," Liz sighs.

"You're Sammy's legal guardian right now. The decision's yours," you state.

"No. He barely knows her," Ms. Rogers interjects. "Lizzie, is it? For all we know, she's the 'L' he's afraid of."

"Sammy saw his aunt and didn't even react. If she was the abductor, we'd have seen a visceral response."

"You can't be sure of that. He's in shock."

"We are running a background check right now."

"On me?" Liz asks, shocked.

"It's just procedure, but you have to decide. What do you want us to do?"

As Liz takes some time to decide, you get word that the unsub has taken Alison to a check-cashing store to get the rest of the money. However, she was only able to get a portion of it, not the full amount. The shop owner was only able to give her twenty-five thousand. She wanted thirty but the owner refused.

So, she has twenty-five at the store and ten from the bank. That's thirty thousand but the unsub wants forty. Why forty? Why not settle for just a bit less? Penelope might be able to do some magic with that number. Not only did Alison and the unsub went to the store but a bloody crowbar was found outside the store by the dumpster. It was definitely used as a weapon and it definitely belonged to the unsub.

The end of the crowbar was rusted which is an old fisherman trick. Your dad took you fishing a couple of times and explained the process. A fisherman can use the crowbar to hook crap traps and shrimp catches out at sea. It's common in the area but it confirms one thing.

The unsub is definitely a fisherman.

You're not sure how Sammy will react to being back home after the tragedy, but he seems to be doing fine. He walks in like normal and looks around before immediately going to the piano.

"When was the last time you saw him?" Rossi asks Liz.

"On his fifth birthday. Charlie and I had a fight. It got ugly. I haven't seen either one of them since. Do you think Charlie's going to be okay?"

"I'm hopeful."

You're not. If Charlie was shot and lost all that blood, it's safe to say that the unsub isn't going to be giving him medical attention soon. If he hasn't already, you think Charlie will be dead before you can get to him.

x

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[aaaaafro]

Seductress 3 - ITZY Chaeryeong x M!Reader (+18?)

tw: titjob? blueballing, yes till reader dies, we aint stopping.

author's notes: I'm back yall! JK, okay so this'll be my only update for Tumblr at this time, I'll be jumping back to my wattpad work because I've been too lazy writing, after updating the Tumblr work, I'll jump back here, perhaps with a new work or another update for an ongoing series ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

pt. 2 here

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"WAIT!" You and Yuna echoed each other.

In a haste you two put your clothes back on before running after the said person who witnessed the unsightly situation.

Exiting ITZY's RV you've noticed that the outside is too empty and the person who saw you and Yuna has completely vanished.

"God fucking damn it!" You collapsed realizing what's about to happen.

Yuna stood there guilty as hell as she just tried her best to calm you down.

"W-we can sort this out oppa."

"No! We can't! This fucking job!" You feel terrible lashing out at Yuna but you can't blame yourself.

"Oppa..." Yuna's hesitant voice calls.

You then reached your wits end, standing up with your head down ignoring everything. The few staff that was left finishing the clean up was saying hi yo you but you just shut off completely.

Then a figure suddenly blocks your path. Your eyes travel upwards only to see.

Having been too spent to even give a proper greeting you just mumbled "M-my bad." before stepping aside and continuing your walk of shame.

"O-oppa!" She called hesitantly.

"Yes Chae?"

"Uh..."

"Can I help you with something?" You grew impatient with a hint of regret but your mind isn't in the right place at the moment.

"Y-yes..." She continues to hesitate.

"Is it something to be done tonight? Because, I'm not really–..."

"Can we go to your house?" Chaeryeong suddenly proposed.

You're too baffled at the suddenness of the situation "W-wait... Why?"

"I'm n-nervous for my s-shoot." She reasoned but you're not having any of it.

"Oh really? But you've done it many times now." You tried probing.

"Y-yeah b-but still..." She acted all cute and your anger dissipates in a matter of seconds.

"W-why my h-house?"

"Y-you have a small studio set up right?" Chaeryeong replied.

"R-right..."

"So? W-what are we waiting for?" She suddenly takes you by the arm and rushes to your car.

There's a lot happening in your mind that somehow isn't making sense. Firstly, there's still the person that witnessed Yuna grinding herself on top of you. Second, the fact that Yuna and Ryujin seem to be onto something from the get go of the whole situation, and lastly Chaeryeong's weird impulse of getting some practice shots for the photoshoot.

"Oh, you have a nice place for yourself." Chaeryeong compliments as you two enter your unit.

"Ye-yeah." You replied instinctively.

"Uh Chaery..." You mumbled.

"Shall we start?" She suddenly states before taking off her coat.

"H-hold on...." You tried halting her movements but she instead just gave you a look of confusion.

A smirk forms on her face before she continues to undress. Yep... Undress, just when you thought she'd stop after her coat was off. She suddenly removes her shirt.

As all other proper men would've done, you stood there frozen for a second before realizing that Chaeryeong is revealing more skin than you're prepared for. You quickly turn away the moment you saw a good portion of her bare toned torso.

"Chaeryeong! WHAT THE HECK?"

"Why?! I'm changing to my outfit." She replies managing to have the most innocent tone possible.

"Couldn't you do that somewhere else?"

"Wow, now you're uncomfortable? You sure weren't when Yuna was grinding herself on top of you." She suddenly answered with such a disdain tone.

Your heart drops hearing her confession. You then pieced all of it together.

"Hey?! Are we gonna do this or do you need me to grind on you too?" Chaeryeong sounded really impatient as she stood on your small makeshift studio.

You reluctantly followed, before you were greeted by Chaeryeong's gaze locked onto you, following every single step you took to your set up.

"C-chaery..."

"Yes, oppa?" She asked cutely while thinking of possible poses.

"About what you saw... With me and Yuna–."

"Stop! Can't you focus on what's in front of you?"

"B-but..." You were about to comment before Chaeryeong deadly gaze once more lands on you.

"Shall we start?"

With her eyes digging a hole straight through your defenses and her expression loudly saying that she's not taking 'no' as an answer. You reluctantly nodded.

"what pose should I start with?" she asked.

"L-let's break... b-break the ice first. You're free to just feel yourself and..." You unconsciously spoke with a professional mindset that you failed to realize how different the situation is.

"Feel myself?"

"Y-yeah."

"Right..." She then starts to run her fingers on her lips making sure she doesn't break her stare into your camera lens like she knows you're looking on the other end.

She's oozing confidence...

She's something else...

She's doing it on purpose...

She's holding her pose for you...

She's seducing you...

Not even a minute in, your hand starts to shake, cold sweats run down your face and your chest tightens.

"H-how about a b-break?" You state having to reach your limit

"Already?"

"I-... C-can I at least get some water?" You excused

"Get me some too. I want to feel wet." You paused midway through your walk to exit your studio.

"I mean my throat oppa."

"R-right." you then quickly bolted out of your studio and went straight to your kitchen.

"Fuck." You muttered to yourself while taking a sip of water.

"We will, don't worry."

You spat out the water you just took in as soon as you heard the voice behind you.

"C-chaery."

"Yes?" She answered cutely before carefully brushing her finger on your hand making you let go of the glass and taking it.

"W-wha..." Your words fails to form properly as she slowly runs her tongue across the rim of the glass even the inside of it making sure to taste whatever hint of DNA you've left behind.

"Yes oppa? I can't hear you properly..." She said in such a sultry tone before taking a small sip of your water.

"You girls, wh-wha..." Once more your thought process fails to work seeing the young lady's lip coil as she bites it keeping a straight gaze towards you.

Mere seconds later you feel a pull from the universe as your face gravitates towards hers. Chaeryeong's lips grew redder as you've gotten so close to the point your foreheads collide in such a gentle way to welcome each other.

"Chaery." You whispered.

"Yes, oppa?"

"T-this isn't... r-right." You weakly say but it is enough to let her hear it.

"Is it?" She whispers before brushing the back of her hand on your cheek.

All of a sudden a hint of cherry hits your taste buds, lost, bewildered and confused all at the same moment you realized that Chaeryeong's lips are now connected to yours.

Your eyes widens when she suddenly slips something on and her hand that was on your cheek travels further to your nape. You didn't want to engage but there's something about it that you just wanted to give into.

It may be the feeling that this was all premeditated from the beginning, the way this whole thing started from Ryujin and it escalated to Yuna before landing yourself in the hands of Chaeryeong.

Fuck her lips are so delicious.

The way her tongue skillfully dances with yours, her slim fingers brushing against the skin of yours, her soft huffs in between the gaps of your make out session.

You can feel your spit spilling out as the kiss grows more intense than it already is. Chaeryeong then adjusts her position sitting atop the counter top capturing you in between her legs.

"Ha~!" Chaery then breaks off your contact before locking eyes with you.

A subtle eyebrow raises from her piques your interest before her hand from your nape travels down your torso right on the seam of your shirt. She then started to lift your shirt as your hands came into the mind of their own and started to feel her soft thighs.

"How were those two?" She then asked.

"T-those two?" You innocent retort and that produces a scoff from the younger lady.

"You're asking as if you don't know who I'm talking about."

You shrugged before feeling her short tap on your chest. Her cutest giggle hits your eardrums as she leans in for a quick peck.

"Honestly... I didn't do it with Yuna and Ryujin." You confessed in the kiss this causes Chaeryeong to dislatch her lips from yours.

"You minx!" She bursts.

"It's true!"

"W-we just dry humped and got interrupted."

You can clearly see her laughter being held back. She lookes away before scoffing and despite having held back most of her laugh a slight giggle still escapes her lips.

"You really got blueballed twice with the most brattiest members of ITZY."

"W-well, if it weren't for you and Yuna, I would've done it with Ryujin." You boastfully state and Chaeryeong just shakes her head in disbelief.

"Oh, so it's our fault you didn't get to taste Ryujin-unnie?"

"K-kinda."

"Wouldn't you want to go all the way with her?" She asks.

Perhaps your new found confidence was short lived as you've slowly considered the possibility of sleeping with one of them.

"Oh big boy, don't ponder too much. Just look in front of you." Chaeryeong cheers you up even lifting your head high to align your eyes with hers.

Her hands then traveled to your arm and ultimately led yours up to her torso. You can feel her heat radiating from her body feeling your touch against her clothed skin.

Your fingers sprawled out grasping the healthiest of orbs in your hand. Chaery lets out an airy almost whimper-like moan.

"Mhmmm."

"A-are you sure about this?" You stupidly questioned.

She then again produced a scoff before removing your hands from her torso. You mentally smacked yourself as you stepped back and gave her some space.

Then the unthinkable happened (as if it hasn't for almost 3 chapters now) Chaeryeong pulled down her dark shirt, freeing her arms from the constricting black clothes and finally revealing her luscious orbs that have their buds covered by pasties, which almost disappointed you but fuck that its closest to the real thing.

Chaeryeong noticed your slight disappointment and decided to do something about it. Slipping her fingers through the small seam of the pasties before peeling them off completely, greeting you with the pinkish of nubs that are protruding enough to be called turned on.

"You're salivating."

Can she blame you though? You did your best to wipe whatever shameful liquid that's dripping from your mouth before the lady in front of you chuckles at your cuteness.

You smiled at the sight of Chaery laughing but wasn't able to fully admire her visuals as you were greeted with a mouthful of hunger and desire. Chaeryeong lapping whatever remnants of your spit was left.

"Fucking delicious." She mumbles in between the pauses.

Can't deny that, as she slips her tongue almost wanting it to reach your throat. The two of you reconnected your lips before your hands acted on their own and quickly got a vice grip on her perky tits.

Mashing the supple feel and occasionally pinching the nubs of her aroused breast didn't fail to up Chaery's libido even more as her legs captured your pelvis and pulls you into her.

She broke the kiss off before resting her forehead against yours.

Her lust-filled eyes locked against yours before she whispered; "Mhmm, you like playing with them baby?"

You didn't answer, instead, you tightened the grip of her perky tits with the slightest intent of having your fingers engraved on her breast.

"S-shit!"

Without a hint of being hurt or displeasure, you came to the conclusion that this isn't gonna be your average fucking.

"Eat me." She again whispered.

Your eyes widened, never have you ever imagined yourself devouring, fuck it even seeing a member of ITZY naked and right at that moment, one of them is asking you to do lustful things to her. You'd be the biggest idiot if you didn't comply.

With your goal set in sight, seeing that it's just the two of you. You start working your way from her lips, down her sharp jaw, planting soft kisses and subtle bites that continue to make Chaeryeong squirm in anticipation.

The moment your lips brushed against her pinkish hard nub an airy sigh leaves Chaeryeong's lips, her hand grabs a handful of your hair,

Sucking, licking, biting or whichever way your mouth can work on each nubs of the squirming lady in your arms to have her moan out another profanity or just the sultry sighs was all you could do, as your pants grew painfully tighter.

"You're choking baby." Chaeryeong manages to whisper.

She's clearly not talking about your busy mouth lapping up her busty orbs, she makes her point but unbuckling your pants and freeing you from the constricting confinement.

Wasting no time, she immediately fished out your member and started stroking the rock hard length that's raging against her touch.

You can feel Chaery's excitement as her grip and strokes grew more and more aggressive.

It became too much for you and as much as you hate it you detached yourself from her precious goodies before saying "F-fuck Chaery."

"I know! We'll get there!" She playfully replies before slithering down the counter top and on to her knees.

"But first, this big guy needs a lil bit of attention." Chaery added before planting a kiss on the tip of your length which almost made your knees buckle.

A long wet lick suddenly came across the base of your member that made you brace yourself on the counter top, with a sultry sigh Chaeryeong then took your whole member in not caring about her vocals for their practices she did her best to make you collapse on your feet.

While you're receiving the gawk gawk 3000 you look back at the earliest encounters with the other member, reminiscing Chaery's question. If it weren't for the interruptions would you have gone all the way with the other two. How about the other two? The unnies... You honestly can't get your head around the thought but you exactly knew what's going aroudn your head. Other... head... Chaeryeong's lips as she continues to suck the living hell out of your cock pairing them with the massage on your balls just took it a step further.

"Fuck! Chaery I might..."

She released the tip of your member with an audible pop before answering; "Cum? That's the plan big boy."

She then placed her hands on the back of your leg and for whatever fucking reason, as soon as she pressed a nerve you buckled down lowering yourself for her.

You already know what's about to go down and yet it still makes you twitch as soon as your rigid length fits between her mounds.

"Holy fuck." You commented which made Chaery smile.

"Hot aren't they?" She replies with a devilish smile.

Pressing her soft orbs together encapsulates your member perfectly, her spit still covering your length and she starts to pump.

"S-shit."

You can see the tip of your length hitting Chaeryeong's chin which begs the question but it was already answered before it was asked. As she quickly leaned downwards and took your member into her mouth but careful enough to still have you captured between her mounds.

This sight is so sinful, sacred and so fucking hot, making it impossible to look away, like it's blasphemy to remove your attention for even a fraction of a second.

Not even a minute in you feel yourself reaching your limit but who can blame you?

"C-chaery." You pathetically called.

But the little fox is too busy with her meal as she just ignores you and continues to do her thing.

As soon as your balls tighten, something unimaginable happens. Chaery lets go of your member, giving you a devilish smile as if to mock you, stating that she's proud of sin she had committed.

"I think that'll be enough for the night." Chaery removes herself from the space between you and the counter top.

"What the fuck?!"

"Oh, that? Perhaps next time baby." She cheekily replies before giving you a wink.

"W-wha?" Too stunned to speak, with your pants down you stood there glancing back and forth at your raging member and the lady who's fixing her outfit.

"You should get yourself fixed before my service picks me up." She added with such a nonchalant tone that only adds insult to injury.

Three... you've been blueballed three times in a single day. You're too dumbfounded at how these girls are just playing you at the palm of their hand. Drawing the line between coincidence and a well thought-out plan, you stood there motionless piecing together the times you've been stopped midway through committing the lustful act.

"Stop!" You burst immediately as Chaery was about to leave the vicinity.

"Wha-." She was about to ask but you quickly closed the distance between the two of you and pinned her against the wall.

"H-hey! P-playtime's o-over." The girl nervously chuckles.

"No." Was your straight answer.

The girl trembles but it doesn't seem like it was out of discomfort. She stood there fidgeting while rubbing her thighs together as if something was off.

Your hand on the wall slowly travelled towards her hips, tracing her well sculpted body. Chaery couldn't even keep her composure as she squirms from your touch.

"Didn't you ask me earlier if I would've gone all the way with them if I wasn't blueballed by you and Yuna?"

"Mhmmm." She moaned as your fingers traced her flat tummy down her heat radiating core.

"Should I answer that now?" She nodded subtly with her eyes pleading.

You were about to kiss her, when all of a sudden.

"Ryeongiee! We're going!"

"WAIT!" You and Chaery echoed each other.