#stupid ask box.. and I thought it was only to Chastity's box.. -.-

[stachmousworld]

Meeting the Personal Assistant (final part)

Pairing: Black!Plus size!YN x Bucky Barner

Tags: unprotected sex, choking, mention of edging, chastity cage, restraints, cockwarming, cockring.

Words: around 4000

(The dividers come from @/firefly-graphics.tumblr.com)

She started packing as soon as the ambulance left with the Sergeant’s body. She watched, numb, as James Barnes’ body was transported. She couldn’t help but feel guilty. And it worsen when she saw Steve’s face.

Pale. Stricken.

She hadn’t been able to say a word and stood by her table completely silent. She hadn’t wanted their attention to be on her. She actually feared their reaction. There was no way she wasn’t going to be fired. And all that because she hadn’t remembered a fucking appointment. One single appointment.

She looked for the piece of paper and found it nowhere. Did it really matter, anyway? She gave a once over to her desk and bent to check her drawer.

“What are you doing?”

She almost hit her head when she heard mister Stark’s voice. She struggle to stand up and almost fell when her heel got stuck on the carpet.

“I’m packing, sir.”

Stark watched her eyebrows furrowed. “I can see it. But why are you packing?” He glanced at the mountain of stuff in her box. She didn’t really know if she’d be able to hold or she’ll have to do two trips, which she didn’t want.

“Are we really doing that, right now?” She asked in hope that he’ll drop it.

Stark walked closer and grabbed one of her stress balls from the box. “Humor me. Why do you think I’d fire you?”

She sighed. “I didn’t warn you for the meeting, which almost caused a third world war and your friend probably fainted because of me. So, I may not be the smartest cookie in the world but even I can tell that it’s over.”

Stark hummed, a small smile playing on his lips and threw the ball in the air and caught it as fast. “There were so many things wrong in what you said. First, you are far from being stupid. If you truly think we employ every average Joe and Jane in my company, I’d be disappointed. Also, considering how Miss Potts was my assistant and is now CEO of the company, you too may be lucky.”

She let out a brief laugh. “I’m not sure Miss Potts would be happy hearing that you’re already planning a coup.”

Mister Stark handed her the ball. She rose an eyebrow barely irritated by his usual quirks. She grabbed the ball and felt something smooth underneath.

“What -”

It was the paper from earlier. When did Stark take it?

“Is nothing weird about the paper?”

She read the paper over and over again without finding anything suspicious.

“Take your own agenda and compare both,” he said, with a gentle and patient tone.

With trembling hands, she scavenged through her pile of stuff. Her cheeks grew warmed under his gaze. She muttered under her breath as the leather book was unreachable.

“Need help?” Mister Stark asked amused.

“No,” she grunted. She shook the box and peered into it. There it was. Regaining a sense of confidence, she picked it up, and browsed through it. She scanned both papers attentively.

“Do you see it now?”

She was about to say ‘no’ when she finally noticed a few differences.

“It’s not the same. It’s not the same writing,” she said, appalled. She grabbed her glasses and put them on.

“You give me some sexy librarian--”

“Sexual harassment seminary, Mister Stark,” she reminded him with a stern, disapproving voice.

She glanced when he didn’t retort and saw him shuffle on his feet like a guilty kid.

“Do I want to know?”

Mister Stark smiled, sheepish. “Not my fault I like bossy people.”

“Still not appropriate on the workplace, I’m afraid.”

He grunted dramatically.

“So, going back to the point.” She waved the paper. “She lied. What does that mean for me?”

“You’re not fired. I thought that was clear. I can’t fire you for something you didn’t do.” He waved at her box. “You should put everything back because you are not going anywhere, and I’ll use restraints if I have too.”

A smile played on her lips. “Do you realize that all the things you’ve been saying so far can be interpreted differently. And send you straight to the anti-harassment seminary.”

He shrugged. “Been there done that.”

She raised her eyes to the sky and repressed her laugh. “Unbelievable, Mister Stark.”

Stark crunched his nose. She knew he hated that she called him ‘mister Stark’ and would rather be called by his first name. Something to do with how many times she’d save his ass from a bunch of paparazzi and from condescending shareholders. She also had to babysit him for a few years now because in his creative binge he’d lose track of anything and would often faint from hunger and exhaustion. It was a surprise he was still alive. Fortunately, he met someone, Steve Rogers aka Captain America aka the ultimate mother hen, otherwise mister Stark would have been entirely too lost.

“You’re such a kid. I should’ve fired you.”

He leaned and peered inside her box.

“I don’t know what kind of kids you’ve seen but there are two things they don’t get,” she said with a mischievous smile.

Stark raised his eyes, curious. She stood up tall and wrapped her arms under her boobs, pushing them up. His eyes were drawn like a moth to the light. He closed his gaping mouth.

“Well, your arguments are solid.”

He wasn’t moving at all. Now she had opened the door, Tony jumped on the occasion. His eyes were glued on her cleavage.

“You do realize that I’ll fill a report, right?”

“One for a penny, one for a pound,” he replied, nonchalant.

“What would your husband say?”

“Steve is as bi as I am and even he wouldn’t deny how smoking hot you are.”

She sucked her teeth. “Can I fill a report on your husband even though he doesn’t work for the company?”

“He’d die.” A beat of silence. Tony raised his eyes to hers and smiled like a wolf. “Do it. He’d be mortified because it is my fault. And he’d punish me later…” He caressed his goatee. “Maybe find a way to stuff my mouth.”

She was already regretting this conversation. She’d forgotten that Stark was a master in shameless innuendos.

“One day, I’ll get you,” she whispered, falsely annoyed.

“You know you love me, though.”

She rolled her eyes and started unpacking her box. In silence. Stark was still watching her. It was unnerving.

“Don’t you have anything else to do? Avenging, maybe? Going to the hospital where your husband bff is?”

“I’m waiting because you are going with me.”

She almost dropped her favorite mug. A Howling Commando limited edition. Mister Stark almost had a heart attack when he saw her mug. He had been a bit sarcastic but fairly surprised that she knew and loved the Howling Commandos. Who wouldn’t? Especially Cap’s sidekick. But that was a secret.

She would never reveal to anyone that she used to have a fairly big crush on James Buchanan Barnes. She even had the real dog tags.

It was a gift from an elderly person she used to take care of. She hadn’t even known he had known any of the howlies; so imagine her surprise when he gave her the dog tags. It has taken a few months to check if they were the original. She hadn’t wanted anyone to take what was precious to her and to give it to any museums. It may be selfish, but she didn’t really care.

Since then, she wore it every day. Some days like right now, where she wore a pronounced cleavage, she’d place the dog tags in her bra.

The cold metal was harsh against her sensitive skin and she reveled in the feeling. There was something so primal in wearing someone’s belongings. Even though the person wasn’t aware of it.  

Seeing Sergeant James Barnes walk in had almost brought her to her knees. It was by sheer will that she didn’t hyperventilate and faint. Gosh…it would have been so embarrassing.

It didn’t help that Sergeant Barnes had been so charming and somewhat shy. He said she reminded him of a fresh brioche, and the way he gazed at her…so hungry and ready to pounce. If the other bitch hadn’t been there, she’d probably act recklessly. She would have jumped on him and maybe suck his dick.

She took a deep breath and avoided Stark’s inquisitive eyes.

“Let’s go. I’ll do the rest later.”

He threw his hands in the air and smiled. “Finally.”

They made their way to the elevator in silence. Only then, did she realize something.

“Where are we going?”

Mister Stark zipped his mouth and pretending throwing the key. She groaned. She should definitely demand a raise.

They were at the hospital. She had tried to get out of this situation, even pretending that she had an emergency. Tony had put his foot down and cut through all of her lies.

“Why am I here again?”

Stark was typing quickly on his phone. “Buckaroo would be really happy to see you.”

There was something in the way is said ‘happy’ that was worrisome.

“But why?”

Stark raised his eyes. His nostrils flared and she knew she’d hit the jackpot. If she could annoy him that much, she’d be able to get the truth out of him.

“You’ll see.”

He gave her a sardonic smile before returning to his phone. She grunted under her breath and stomped her feet.

“A kid…” Tony joked.

“I’ll tell mister Rogers and he’ll punish you.”

“Don’t threaten with a good time.”

“You won’t laugh when I’ll tell him about chastity cage, and edging.”

His smile flickered. He nibbled his lower lip, eyes darting around. “Still a good time.”

“Are you sure?” She leaned closer to him. “How long can you hold, mister Stark? I’m sure mister Rogers can be very thorough about his discipline. With his mind and my knowledge…”

She leaned back and examined her fingernails.

“How much do you want?” He growled.

She caught a glimpse of mister Rogers coming their way. She stood up and waved at him.

“Your demise will be my reward,” she retorted sweetly.

His eyes grew wary.

“Tony,” mister Rogers said with a blinding smile.

It was hilarious to witness her boss jumping to his feet, looking quite anxious.

“Steve?” He squealed.

“Is everything okay?” Rogers asked looking at them.

She shrugged. “Mister Stark has told a few interesting things about him.”

Mister Stark glared at her.

“I can tell –”

“I will fire you,” Stark whispered.

“Are you sure about that?” She rose an eyebrow. Tony glared at her in silence. “Can you show me where the room where Sergeant Barnes is, mister Rogers?”

The blond man was still looking at them at loss.

“I’ll go with you,” her boss said through gritted teeth.

“The more the merrier,” she replied with her best candid smile.

The tension was palpable. Stark tried to cut her off every time she asked a question and pulled his husband closer to him.

They were in front of the room and she saw her boss sag. As if he thought it was the end.

“Mister Stark, do you have your phone with you?”

He looked at her, suspicious. “Yes, why?”

She looked at her watch and counted the seconds. Her boss’ body froze when a familiar ringtone played.

“You should take the call, Mister Stark. After all…you’ve been for this meeting for a long time.”

He looked at his husband than her.

“Tony, baby, I’ll be here when you come back. Go take your call.”

The smaller man was grimacing and if she considered the scathing glare, he sent her way, he’d make a pay later. They both watched him leave.

“So, what was that all about?”

“It’s time for phase D.”

Steve hummed. “What did he do?”

“Try to send you along with him to an anti-harassment seminary. I may have pushed his buttons and revealed a bit of our plan, but he’ll be fairly surprised.”

“A bit?”

“Edging, chastity belt.”

Steve laughed. “I wish I’d been there to see his face.”

“Don’t worry about that. You’d see it soon enough. Did you receive the paddle and restraints?”

“Yep,” he replied, proud.

“He won’t know what’s coming.”

“Nope.” He pressed a hand on her back and pushed her toward the room. “And…I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. Go. Bucky will be really happy to see you.”

Why did they think he’d be happy? And why did they say it like that? Before she could formulate a proper answer, she found herself in the room. Steve closed the door behind her.

She wiped her hands on her dress and walked slowly to the bed where Sergeant Barnes was. He was still asleep. She took the time to examine his face. Her fingers itched to trace the rough lines of his face. From his sharp jawline, to the valley of his cheekbones, and she’d brush his eyebrows. They looked so soft.

Too lost in her thoughts she didn’t notice his blue eyes watching her through long eyelashes.

She patted her breast where the dog tags were and took them out. She played with them absently.

The blue eyes darkened, and blood rushed south. His fingers twitched to touch her.

“I’m really a creep,” she whispered.

Bucky’s eyes went to the dog tags and he let out a gasp. His dog tags? How did she get them? He had been trying to find them since the Smithsonian denied having them. Which at the time had sounded like a big ol’ lie.

“I should give them to you when you wake.” She brought the tags on her lips and kissed them.

Bucky’s eyes grew wider when he felt himself get hard. He looked at his lap and watched with shock the tent on his hardening cock got bigger.

He let out a small breath and tried to hide his erection. The small movement attracted her attention. Her head snapped up and he was suddenly pinned down by two brown eyes.

“Oh oh,” she let out with a grimace.

Bucky smiled or at least tried his best while pressing his hand on top of his erection. Her eyes didn’t bulge from his face which was a relief. He ignored the way his erection twitched when she leaned back.

They stayed silent for a couple of seconds, none of them knew what to say. Bucky’s erection was still distracting, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to resist his urges to palm it.

“Well…here.” She handed the dog tags. Bucky looked at the metal in her hand and glanced back at her.

“You can keep it.”

“I can’t. It’s yours.” She dropped the dog tags on his chest and gathered her jacket and bag. Bucky stopped her.

“Keep them. I know you’d take care of them better than I. In my line of work, it’d be difficult not to lose them or have them stolen.”

She frowned. “Are you sure?”

Bucky nodded and handed them back to her. She took them eagerly and a little unsure. Like she didn’t know what to do with them.

“You can put them back?” The words escape his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Back?” She squealed, embarrassed.

Oh.

“How long have you been awake?”

Bucky felt his cheeks grow warm. “I mean…I wasn’t actively trying to ogle you. You were there and I was –”

She leaned back and her face behind his hands. Bucky tried to rearrange himself as silently as he could but failed. He let out a desperate groan. Gosh…two erections in the same day. This was a day to be set in the stone. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat smug. His body and his mind worked perfectly well together, although it seemed to be at the wrong time.

She raised her head and gaped. Bucky froze. Her eyes caught the outline of his erection before he could really hide it.

“I’m sorry. I’m not a creep. Please don’t scream.” The words tumbled out of his mouth not really in the right order. He for sure believed that she’d scream and run away, insulting him or worse. What he hadn’t expected was for her to stay silent and to look somewhat interested.

“Okay.” She seemed to want to say something else but shook her head instead.

“You believe me?” He asked wearily.

“Well, yeah.” She shrugged. “It’s a normal bodily reaction. I know guys can pop boners for the random stuff.”

“You are not though.” Bucky slapped his hand on his mouth and closed his eyes.

“I’m not what?”

“You said that it was random but it’s not. You are in no way random.”

“What do…” A beat of silence. “Oh.”

Bucky spread his fingers and peeked through them. He watched her, still eying his cock.

“My eyes are up there,” he joked.

Her eyes snapped to his. She cleared her throat and looked away. It could have stopped there but Bucky was on a stroll. He’d have time to feel mortified later anyway.

“I don’t want you to pretend. If you feel unsafe or somewhat disgusted, I’m really sorry.” He waved at his clothed dick. “To be honest I’m not really ashamed –”

“I can tell.” She mumbled. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” He exclaimed a little to forceful. “What I want to say is that, as a POW and a brainwashed soldier I wasn’t really in tune with my body.” He lowered his voice and gazed down. “Even after therapy and a dozen of medical consultation I couldn’t have an erection. At all. So yeah, I feel a bit mortified that you saw that but at the same time I’m happy because it means I’m getting better.”

He risked a glance at her. She looked at his face wistfully, the dog tags still dangling from her fingers. He was expecting a few questions on his condition or maybe she’d call bluff –

“Do you want me to help?”

It threw him off. Literally.

“Or not.” She gathered her bag and closet and stood up. “I’m sorry that was way out of the line. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.”

Wait a damn minute… Bucky’s heart was racing, and he was sure that his dick was so hard it’d cut through the cover.

“Wait!” He exclaimed, panicked. “Don’t leave.”

She froze. There were a million things he wanted to say. None could actually help with the immediate issue.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want it,” she whispered.

She was still back to him. The sudden distance between them felt like a torture. His mind still had warped up behind what she offered. All he could imagine was warmth, tightness and wetness. Wherever it came from he’d take it.

“Okay.”

She spun around quickly. “Okay?” She repeated surprised.

Bucky nodded frantically. He pushed the cover below his hips revealing his aching cock. He hissed at the lack of friction and from the cold air.

She stood there, mouth agape and all Bucky could think was how she looked like with his dick in her mouth. His erection twitched and he groaned.

“Ok, we are two consenting adults…” She pep talked herself. “I can do it. God he’s going to ruin me for any man.”

An ugly green-eyed beast roared in his chest.

“There would be no other man if you want me.”

She huffed in disbelief. “You don’t think that. You’d probably say that to anyone who’d promise to get you off.”

Bucky glared at her. “I wanted to ask you for a date before the other bitch triggered me.”

“Really?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I don’t call anyone “fresh brioche out of the oven”.”

She giggled. The movement made her boobs jiggle and Bucky lost track of his thoughts. Again. He waved his hand and motioned her to come closer. She surprisingly obeyed. He sat upright on the bed and untied slowly caressed her curves. He reached for the bottom of her dress and slowly took it off. She raised her arms and let the silky material drop on the floor.

Bucky liked his lips. He could come from the sight alone.

“Come here,” he ordered, with a deep voice.

She climb on the bed and sat on his naked lap.

Bucky moaned. Jesus it was getting too much already. Her hot cunt was pressing hard on him. He snaked a hand between their bodies and gasped when he met her naked wetness. Her panties had a hole. Big enough for him to fuck her without discarding them. Bucky’s toes clenched and his balls tightened.

“Relax, Sergeant.”

He came. Hard. His vision whitened and his breath grew shallower. He basked into this bliss and went limp.

“That was…woah.” She whispered amazed.

Bucky smiled softly, hands back on her hips. He pushed back onto her looking for any friction.

“Are you not overstimula—”

She moaned when Bucky rubbed her clit with the tip of his dick. He caressed her body making sure to capture each of her moans and gasps and pleads for more.

Her bras were soon off. She sighed deeply and it could have made Bucky jealous if it wasn’t for the sight. Her breast sagged down to their normal position.

“Jesus…” He let out in reverence.

He leaned forward and took one nipple in his mouth. He tried to fit the entire areole and moaned. He latched onto his newfound desire and didn’t let go until the nipple was sensitive. He released her nipple in a wet pop and gave the same treatment to the other.

Her hands went straight to his hair and she gripped and scratched his scalp. Bucky bit harsher un nipple. The reaction was immediate. She grinded, looking for more. Her hand went between them and she spread lips farther. Bucky buckled up as wetness spread onto his shaft.

He needed…he wanted…

He flopped back. “I need more…I need…”

She leaned on his chest and oh God did it feel good.

“Condom?” She asked out of breath.

Bucky shook his head. He felt his eyes tear up. Why…oh why…

“Please…” He begged. He cupped her face and pressed their forehead together. “Please…maybe just the tip?” He hated how tiny he voice sounded.

“Just the tip?” She repeated amused. She must have noticed his confusion because she explained. “It’s interesting to see that men even from last century give the same excuse in order to have sex.”

He sniffed and blushed.

“It’s okay, Sergeant. I got you.”

Buck felt more than he saw nimble fingers grab his dick. The tip of his dick bumped onto something wet and warm. Bucky shut his eyes, tightening his grip on her hips.

“Take a deep breath for me,” she ordered him.

Somewhere in his mind he found that ironic. He should have been the one to tell h—

His tip passed through a tight ring before sliding smoothly an unbearable warmth. Gosh…his eyes rolled into their socket and moaned her name.

“So big…” She moaned back.

He bit back his answers and thrusted experimentally. He slid a further into her.

“So fucking big…”

“All for you,” he groaned.

Everything clicked in Bucky’s mind and his instinct took over. He rolled them over swiftly and bent her knees on her chest. She barely got the time to react that he was thrusting faster, barely changing his pace. He went hard and deep, lost in the feeling of her around him, how she squeezed him perfectly and how her pussy sounded when he entered her. She gripped her legs harder, pulling them closer to her and started sobbing as he kept his quick pace and pushed deeper if that was even possible. Bucky didn’t dare look where they were joined, or he’ll come quick.

As he watched his dog tags juggle between her breasts, something dark and twisted snapped in him. His metal hand went to her throat, barely choking her. Instead of fighting him…Bucky felt her walls spasmed around him. He tightened his grip.

“Yes! Please…Sergeant…choke me…” She babbled. She raised her head and look down and moaned loudly. “Fuck…so big…so deep.”

Bucky slowed down and rolled his hips against hers. She hissed every time thrusted back in and stared straight into his eyes.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked darkly.

She didn’t waste no time to answer. “Sergeant…James…Buchannan…Barnes,” she screamed as picked up the pace and pounded into her. Her body was now so loose and pliant. His cock fit perfectly.

Tears started running down her face as she gasped his name. Bucky almost roared. He leaned forward, not slowing down one second and kissed her. It was all teeth, and tongue. She let him ravage her mouth and pussy with no restraints. In return he swallowed each of her pleas like it was his to take.

An unfamiliar yet familiar sensation sneaked up on him. His balls tightened and his mind already started drifting.

He groaned in her ears. “I’m going to come…” His tone turned plaintive. “Please let me come in you.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” She screamed. She gazed at him with wonder. Her eyes were unfocused, dried tears covered her face and she was covered in sweat and drool. Bucky squashed down his ill-times concern and chased his own climax.

It felt nothing like the first time earlier. It was like a sucker punch. But pleasurable. His breath hitched and his stomach clenched. Actually, his entire body seized under the pleasure. He kept thrusting until she came which didn’t take much time. As soon as the first spurt of his sperm coated walls, it triggered her own climax. Her walls spasmed around his dick and she cried his name.

Lick a puppet whose strings had been cut he fell on her, caging her with his arms. He rolled his hips as he kept coming.

“S’ good,” she muttered in his embrace.

“Never let you go,” he replied. “Mine.”

“Yours,” she replied half asleep.

The following weeks went in a blur. Bucky and his girlfriend. It felt so weird to think about it like that. They barely knew each other, but in his mind, she had always been his doll’. His girlfriend and he had gone to a few dates, with the certitude that now the sex off the table they’d be able to learn to know each other.

Well. At least they tried.

Date 1: The night ended with Bucky being sucked off in his car.

Date 2: Bucky was railing her from the back in the communal room.

Date 3: He had gone to a mission which hadn’t stopped her from sending a few videos. He nearly got kidnapped because of it.

Date 4: 69 became his favorite number.

Date 5 and 6: He lost a bet and had to suffer through two day of cockwarming. After his first fail, she had been forced to use a cockring. Let’s just say, he never took bets with her.

Date 7: Restraints. Wakanda’s best metal to hold him down.

Date 8 (the last): Voyeurism. She sucked him off while everyone was watching a movie in the communal room. He certainly had never come that quick.

After being almost being caught by Tony – of all the people – they slowed down their sexcapades and really tried to stay platonic. Emphasis on ‘tried’.

They only lasted a week.

End

[pengiesama]

A Ring for a Ring, a Sweet for the Sweet (Fic, TGCF, HC/XL)

Title: A Ring for a Ring, a Sweet for the Sweet Series: Heavenly Official’s Blessing (Tian Guan Ci Fu) Pairing: Hua Cheng/Xie Lian

Summary:

Just as Hua Cheng once gave him a ring to pledge him his life, Xie Lian gives Hua Cheng a ring to pledge him his hole.

Link: AO3

Read on Tumblr!

--

Xie Lian was going into this birthday prepared. He had a plan in his head, a wish in his heart, and many thoughts cursing his dick.

--

This plan, this wish, this curse; it all started one fateful morning about a month ago. You see, the married life came with innumerable pleasures, and one of these was the comfort of a regular morning routine. Summarized, and truncated for length, it went a little like this:

 Step 1: Wake up.

Step 2, Scenario A: San Lang pretending to be asleep, and refusing to break character until Xie Lian provided anywhere between seven to ten morning kisses.

Step 2, Scenario B: San Lang already awake, and distributing morning kisses to Xie Lian’s lips, neck, cock, and other such body parts that would benefit from the application of his tongue.

Step 3: The irrepressible cosmic consequence of either scenario outlined above.

Step 4, Scenario A: San Lang big spoon.

Step 4, Scenario B: Xie Lian big spoon.

Step 5: Helping each other wash, dress, and get ready for the day.

 With Step 1 through Step 4, Scenario B completed, Xie Lian was helping his husband get ready before he had to scurry off to do a few errands. Check on the vegetable garden at the shrine, draw up a few new charms, pop over to the village’s market to see if there were any deals on, put an end to the demon who’d taken up residence in the hills two towns over and who was demanding maiden sacrifices…Xie Lian of course would answer the cries of those in need, but he did wonder, at times, why people were calling upon the God of Scrap-Collecting to slay evil (or at least rough up evil, followed by a stern talking-to). Shouldn’t they be calling upon him for blessings in happening upon excellent and thrifty finds? Ah, well. Always in service of the people.

The lacquered black comb sank thickly into Hua Cheng’s hair, and slid through like a ship through water. Silver chimed with the motions of Xie Lian’s arm. Lately, he’d taken to warming up Hua Cheng’s silver accessories before helping his husband put them on…underneath his sleeping robe, against his bare skin, he was currently sporting one of Hua Cheng’s heavy necklaces and silver belts. Xie Lian never liked the initial cold shock of jewelry against his skin when he was young; brief as the feeling was before his body heat warmed the metal, it was a petty annoyance he always dreaded each morning while still cranky and disoriented from sleep. His poor San Lang had no such respite, with his body’s ghostly chill. Thus, Xie Lian wanted to save his husband such an unpleasantness before a long day of managing his city.

There was, of course, the minor matter that Hua Cheng tended to wear quite a lot of accessories. (And he seemed to only be expanding this tendency after Xie Lian took up the warming habit.) After the necklace and belt were taken care of, he still needed to warm up the bracelets and rings (unthinkable to wear those while tending to San Lang’s beautiful hair), then the earrings and hair accessories, and then the vambraces; these were tricky, and required one-on-one attention. The silver butterflies nesting within the vambraces got excited very easily when Xie Lian touched their home, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d have an armful of butterflies and no vambrace to warm up.

Xie Lian could very easily spend the whole day at this, though his schedule didn’t allow it. Distracted by the movement of the comb through Hua Cheng’s hair, distracted by the low sounds of pleasure Hua Cheng made when Xie Lian absently ran his fingers through the strands, Xie Lian reached out to fumble for one of the many nearby jewelry boxes. Rings, San Lang did need rings to wear with his choice of ensemble today…

Xie Lian’s questing hand came back with a ring; that it was a ring was no question. But…Xie Lian’s brow furrowed as he examined it, turning it this way and that, the silver glinting in the bedroom light. Beautiful, with delicate engravings of blooming flowers across its surface, the quality silver thick and heavy in his palm. But this ring was much too large for his San Lang’s elegant, slender fingers, was it not? Though Xie Lian’s hands were smaller, they weren’t that much smaller, and he could fit both his thumbs inside it easily…

“Gege,” Hua Cheng purred, allowing his hair to fall over his shoulder in an alluring and altogether deliberate manner. “Did you find something you’d particularly like to see me in today?”

Hua Cheng’s gaze fell on the ring that Xie Lian was examining, and his confident, sly expression dropped all at once. His hand twitched, then fisted in his robes; as if he wanted to snatch away the ring but didn’t dare do so. Xie Lian blinked, confused.

“Is this a ring that San Lang wears while in a different skin?” Xie Lian asked. “It’s lovely, but seems much too big for San Lang’s…fing…er…”

Xie Lian trailed off, and the truth of the matter took root in his mind as his cheeks began to burn with a familiar heat. And oh, did those roots find eager and fertile soil.

Now, Xie Lian was inexperienced in bedroom matters, this much was true. But he was not stupid, and he also knew what his husband’s dick looked like at this point. This ring was indeed too large for Hua Cheng’s slender and elegant fingers. But it was just the right size to fit around the base of Hua Cheng’s thick, heavy cock.

“Your Highness,” Hua Cheng croaked. “This one apologizes for leaving such an item in—”

“This is a cock ring,” Xie Lian murmured, as if in a trance state, approaching a level of enlightenment not yet seen.

Hua Cheng’s physical form briefly flickered; hearing His Highness say such words so bluntly, with such an irresistibly flushed face, was very much like being struck by a divine force, staggering in its power. He took a deep breath to regain control of himself, and nodded.

“Yes,” Hua Cheng admitted. “This one is much ashamed to not be able to please His Highness as he deserves, on some nights. I crafted such a crude instrument in hopes that it would help with control, but it still is not up to the task, nor is it worthy of the honor of being used in His Highness’ bed…”

Xie Lian was brought back to reality long enough to refute such a self-abasing statement.

“San Lang always pleases me!” Xie Lian stated firmly. It wasn’t always about lasting for hours! It was about both of them enjoying the experience! First off, his San Lang lasted a perfect amount of time; secondly, even when he did come too fast, it just meant that Xie Lian had that much more come in him, and one of Xie Lian’s primary goals in his immortal life now was to be filled with as much of Hua Cheng’s come as physically possible. And if Xie Lian had to wait hours each time before Hua Cheng would finally come inside…

…but perhaps it was about the challenge. This was something a (formerly) martial god could understand. This was something that could overcome Xie Lian’s shyness, could reach deep within him and seize him by the heart and make him rise to the occasion. The buildup of his husband’s frustration and need, the challenge of overcoming the restriction of the ring, of riding Hua Cheng and filling him with so much pleasure that he would burst forth and break through – just as Hua Cheng had once done to free him from the bonds of his cursed shackles. (But like, with less dying afterwards. And with waaaaaay more come filling up Xie Lian’s insides.) Yes. Yes, this was a challenge Xie Lian was ready to help his San Lang face. They would do it together.

“I’m going to borrow this,” Xie Lian said. “Is that okay?”

“…as it pleases His Highness,” Hua Cheng replied, with no little confusion.

He’d find out soon enough.

--

Xie Lian worked tirelessly, during every free moment, to perfect this most important of spiritual relics: the Incorruptible Chastity Cock Ring. Although last year’s birthday present proved that his sewing skills left something to be desired (and his dear, sweet husband still insisted on wearing that ridiculous belt any chance he got), his metalworking skills, again, proved much more polished. Polished enough to make this ring even more of a sight to behold.

He’d amassed enough followers, and enough donations, to permit him to spend on sourcing quality metal for the project – he of course would not dip into Hua Cheng’s own art supplies, nor his purse. Though both were open to him at all times, that was hardly the spirit meant for a birthday gift! And thus, with silver that was not dug up out of his own grave this time, he’d set to work.

The expertly engraved ring now sported four fine silver chains, from which many chiming seed-shaped silver beads dangled. These silver chains were meant to drape alluringly across Hua Cheng’s muscular thighs and lean hips, and chime with every movement. The chains could be attached to any of Hua Cheng’s silver belts, which Xie Lian considered a very clever foresight on his own behalf. It would be very convenient, this way. (Though it would, of course, mean that a bit of warming up would be needed before he could dress San Lang for the occasion.)

The day of Hua Cheng’s birthday came, and the rush of adrenaline that was warding off Xie Lian’s shyness was beginning to wear off. What was he doing, presenting his husband with such a gift!? My darling, my one and only, my San Lang, here’s a cock ring that you made yourself because you come too fast in bed. Happy birthday! But Xie Lian tried to remember the goal here, the challenge, the pursuit of excellence. Those who ascended were ones who were capable of seeing beyond the limits of what was thought impossible. And Xie Lian so loved dressing Hua Cheng up before a hard day of work.

The moment the midnight hour struck, Ghost City was bright with cheers and fireworks. When Hua Cheng next stepped out of his residence, he would be greeted with a thousand congratulations and well-wishes: Lord Chengzhu, happy birthday!

Great Lord Mayor, happy eight-hundred-twenty-third! If’n I could count that high, I’d lop off the hands of eight hunn’erd twenny third sinners and deck these streets with ‘em!

What a waste of hands! Ya know you can fry those up, doncha!? Or sell them to tourists!

And an occasion such as this calls fer decadence! Like scattering hands all over the streets!! But, for now, Xie Lian had Hua Cheng all to himself.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian whispered into his ear, before kissing it. “Happy birthday. Would you like to open your present?”

Such an offer was a surefire way to get Hua Cheng to stop pretending to be asleep. In an instant, Xie Lian was tackled onto his back on the bed, and pinned in place by the press of Hua Cheng’s lean body and the insistent lips against his own.

“Gege is too kind,” Hua Cheng sighed between kisses. “Too generous. For days I’ve been thinking of nothing but the birthday dinner you promised me, and now gege is telling me that he’s got more gifts up his sleeves?”

Seizing upon the opportunity provided by the wording, Hua Cheng’s greedy hands snuck up the sleeves of Xie Lian’s sleeping robes, squeezing and groping at his arms as he went. The right idea, but the wrong direction…

“It’s…um…” Xie Lian trailed off, his cheeks flaring red. He had a planned script for this. Something about a ring for a ring, sweets for the sweet. The lines were lost to him now. But the intent certainly was not.

Slowly, shyly, Xie Lian slid a hand down the front of his own robes. Hua Cheng’s eye followed the movement raptly, and his touch grew heavier on Xie Lian’s bicep. Taking a moment to steel his courage, Xie Lian ran his fingers along the tie of his robe once, twice, before tugging at it to loosen it and let his robes slip open.

“I wanted to make sure it was warm enough for San Lang to wear comfortably,” Xie Lian explained softly.

Silver glinted through the part of his robe. One of Hua Cheng’s silver belts hung around Xie Lian’s hips, flush against his bare skin. Chiming silver chains dangled from it, leading the eye downward to where they joined at that thick, heavy engraved silver ring. It really was much too big for one’s finger, and still a bit too big for Xie Lian’s own cock. He feared it looked a bit silly – even half-hard as he was, it was clear that there was no way he’d fill it out. Of course, Hua Cheng would have no trouble.

Hua Cheng stared openly, blatantly; hungrily and open-mouthed. His grip on Xie Lian’s bicep was bruising.

“…Your Highness,” he eventually managed to say. His voice was low and raw enough to send a shiver through Xie Lian’s limbs, to make those silver beads chime with the motion of his bare legs sliding against the silk sheets. “Your graciousness knows no bounds. This humble follower doesn’t deserve such a magnificent gift.”

Xie Lian took Hua Cheng’s face in his hands, cradled his cheeks between his palms. He leaned in to press a kiss between Hua Cheng’s brows.

“My husband,” he murmured against Hua Cheng’s skin, his breath warm. “Deserves many such magnificent things.”

The kiss that followed was deep and slow, and full of a wet heat that took Xie Lian from half-hard to fully rigid. The ring still slid off with ease, though Hua Cheng’s fingers were so careful and gentle and slow in their ministrations to remove it that Xie Lian could have cried (or laughed, really) in frustration. Hua Cheng was equally slow and deliberate while undoing the belt tied around Xie Lian’s waist, taking his time, dipping his fingers underneath the belt while he worked to feel the heat radiating off Xie Lian’s abdominals.

“San Lang,” groaned Xie Lian.

Hua Cheng chuckled weakly, and kissed Xie Lian’s throat in recompense. “Gege’s patience is appreciated. I have to wait for my blood to cool before I can wield his gift.”

Xie Lian blinked, curious. “Oh? Is that how it works? Much ashamed, I’ve not much experience. But that does make sense, considering the intent…”

It was Hua Cheng’s turn to groan, and he punctuated it with a dramatic collapse into the pillows next to Xie Lian’s head.

“Gege is not helping with the blood cooling,” Hua Cheng grumbled, with affection clear in the accusation.

“My sincerest apologies,” Xie Lian replied, not sorry at all.

It took some long, painfully and deliciously slow minutes – drawn out by their refusal to stop kissing for the duration – before Hua Cheng’s cock softened enough to slide the ring on. Xie Lian, too, went slowly, carefully, guided by Hua Cheng’s slightly-trembling fingers and the glide of oil to ease any discomfort. When the work was done, Xie Lian squirmed out from under Hua Cheng to survey his handiwork.

His San Lang looked so lovely. The sheen of the oil on his cock, the glinting silver decorating the thick base and draping artfully across his strong thighs. The delicate chimes looked ticklish against his balls; Xie Lian reached out a hand to brush his knuckles against the velvety soft skin there and was rewarded by a delicious groan and squirm.

Oh, before he forgot…there was indeed one more surprise that Xie Lian had for the birthday boy. When he’d set to work on this precious spiritual tool, he’d added some features...

Xie Lian traced both hands along the silver chains, and they shivered with spiritual energy. Hua Cheng wore a priceless expression of shock on his face for a brief moment as he felt the pulse of energy, but had no further opportunity to react before the cock ring itself pulsed once, twice, thrice, more. It continued to pulse around Hua Cheng’s cock in time with the racing beat of Xie Lian’s heart. With each pulse, Hua Cheng’s hips jerked upward involuntarily; with each jerk, those silver chimes rang melodiously. Hua Cheng’s mouth hung open wordlessly, his eye glazed with pleasure that stole his sight and sense.

Very convenient, indeed. Xie Lian could probably just leave him like this and go about his daily errands, secure in the thought that his husband would be waiting for him in bed at home, desperate for relief after hours of tension that threatened to snap him in two. But that wouldn’t be particularly kind to do to him today. The birthday boy would have his release in due time, with only as much teasing as Xie Lian could bear.

“Did I warm it up well enough for San Lang’s comfort?” Xie Lian asked, stretching himself out along Hua Cheng’s side as he jerked and twitched. He stroked his palm along Hua Cheng’s lovely pectorals, down his stomach. He pressed the back of his hand to the silver belt to test its temperature. Xie Lian hmmed thoughtfully and moved to toy with one of the silver chains. “I suppose it’s still a bit chilly. Will you ever forgive me?”

“H…Hhh-highne…ssss…” Hua Cheng managed to slur out, then let out an animalistic moan as the pulses around his cock grew in intensity. Xie Lian made a comforting noise, and kissed Hua Cheng’s temple soothingly. His poor San Lang. It couldn’t be helped; the cock ring’s pulses were tied to Xie Lian’s heartbeat, and there was no controlling that when he was with Hua Cheng.

Xie Lian decided, there and then, that it was time to test the integrity (and the Incorruptible Chastity) of this spiritual artifact. He’d prepared himself before waking Hua Cheng; he thanked himself profusely for this foresight, as he doubted he had the patience to do it now and could hardly ask Hua Cheng to do all the work today. He already had enough to deal with right now.

Hua Cheng’s hands, previously fisted in the silk bedsheets in a vain attempt at controlling himself, flew to seize Xie Lian’s waist as Xie Lian moved to straddle him. Any protests died in his throat as the tip of his cock pressed into Xie Lian’s entrance, already warm and willing and ready. Xie Lian sighed in relief at the stretch and the fullness, and bounced and wriggled his hips until Hua Cheng’s cock was in him fully. He could feel the slight coolness of the silver ring against the rim of his hole, could feel the pulsations of the ring inside and out. Xie Lian gave a full-body shiver, and almost absentmindedly lifted the crystal ring around his neck up to his lips to kiss. The gesture grounded him, it soothed him, it—

“Your Highness…”

The warning growl of that title came too little, too late. Driven mad by the beat of Xie Lian’s heart and the burning heat of his body, Hua Cheng’s grip on Xie Lian’s waist became completely ungentle. His fingers gripped with bruising force, and he bounced Xie Lian on his cock with harsh, fast motions; endlessly chasing a release that would not come, to the tune of chiming silver chains. He pounded as deep into him as he could reach, and seemed as if he could hardly stand having even an inch of him not inside. It was all Xie Lian could do to hold onto Hua Cheng’s shoulders, to hold himself steady even as his thigh muscles began to burn with the strain, to let Hua Cheng fuck into him and use his body as a tool for his pleasure.

The first time Xie Lian came, it only left him hungry for more. The fifth time left him lying limp and slack, sprawled on his back as Hua Cheng’s cock continued to relentlessly fuck him, in and out, with no signs of stopping or slowing. Xie Lian’s insides ached to be soothed by the rush of Hua Cheng’s come. After the eighth time, with his face now pressed into a pillow and Hua Cheng’s cock still tirelessly pumping his prone body, chimes still jingling as brightly and eagerly as they had at the start, Xie Lian himself began to beg for that as well.

“S-s-sssan Lang…” Xie Lian could hardly get the words out, his tongue felt thick and heavy and useless in his mouth. “S-san Lang, need…need it…”

Hua Cheng moaned against Xie Lian’s neck, and briefly paused in his efforts to cover every inch of it with bite marks and hickies. His mouth moved to Xie Lian’s ear; biting it once before he spoke into it, sounding rich and low and just as wrecked as Xie Lian.

“Anything His Highness needs, anything, anything, I’ll give it – mnnnhh, mmm – oh, Your Highness, Your Highness is so good to me, so good to this San Lang…mmh, feels so perfect inside, does it feel as good for gege? Is he ready to come again for me?”

Xie Lian let out a desperate moan as Hua Cheng expertly adjusted his angle to aim his thrusts against that spot inside of him. He wouldn’t last much longer, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t, and he didn’t think he’d be able to stay conscious for round ten. And Hua Cheng still hadn’t come even once inside of him – Xie Lian could endure many hardships, but this was too much, too much!

“San Lang! I want it, I want that!” Xie Lian wailed with the desperation of a dying man. “Ah-ahhhh, I need it, I need you to give it all to me, please, please, won’t you please – ohh! Please, please have mercy, San Lang-gege, please have mercy and fill me up…”

Xie Lian’s heart was racing like a parade drum. He could only imagine the mayhem being wrought upon his husband’s dick by the cock ring’s enchantment. But he trusted his husband – he trusted him to break through, break through with him and see the limits of the highest heavens –

Hua Cheng let out a shout and a shockwave of spiritual energy strong enough to blow back the curtains on the bed, and released into Xie Lian enough come that Xie Lian felt his stomach grow taut with it. He felt his eyes roll back into his head, and let himself pass out midway through his ninth orgasm.

His conscious mind swam back after some time, and he found himself bundled against Hua Cheng’s strong chest. Morning was just breaking outside the window, but today was a day for sleeping in. Xie Lian breathed in his husband’s scent and let himself be lulled back to sleep. He still had to make that birthday dinner today, and needed to regain his strength.

--

“Oh? Did something happen out here?”

While things were stewing, Xie Lian needed to make a quick run to the market to pick up some supplies he’d forgotten. Outside of Paradise Manor, he found Yin Yu with a broom, sweeping a path through the severed hands that had been scattered on the road outside. If Xie Lian were to make a rough estimate, there were approximately eleven hundred sixty-seven of them. There was also a crudely written banner hung in the blossoming trees on the roadside, that read: HAPPAY BARTH DAY LARD CHENGZHU.

“They do try, don’t they?” Xie Lian said to Yin Yu, fondly. “Once I’m back from the market, I’ll help you clean up out here.”

“They do try,” Yin Yu agreed. “And no, no, Your Highness has business to attend to.”

Xie Lian smiled and gave a grateful bow. “Your Highness Yin Yu is welcome to join us for dinner. I’ll save some stew for him! Please don’t hesitate to drop by later.”

Yin Yu watched as Xie Lian expertly stepped around the hands littering the streets, then disappeared into the bustle of the Ghost City market. He gave a deep, resigned sigh and returned to sweeping.

--

[kittkaleen]

FFxivWrite 2020 - Prompt #18 Panglossian [https://ffxiv-write.carrd.co/]

She’s thinking about something her Gran once said, “There is a point where optimism crosses to stupidity and you’ll find that point without looking for it.” Today is that day, now is the moment, and she’s not the offender. A man by the name of “Master Jax” has requested her services and he hasn’t shut up since the moment she met him. Kitt’s trying her level best to get basic information to decide whether she’ll accept the job. It’s not going well.

“Miss Kaleen, I coulda been anythin’. Smarts run in me family and I’m smart as anythin’.” He’s grinning and winks at her slyly. “Now lotsa people say they’re smart, but I really am! I gotta brother who’s a big-time magistrate in Limsa, and another who’s some hotshot alchemist in Ul’dah. Me sister, Jemma, married this Gridanian fella who’s kinda like a farmer, but he owns stuff everywhere. They got one of the biggest places ‘round here” He pauses thoughtfully. “Oh! I didn’t tell ya yet. I’m a thief, and me name is Jaret. I’d tell ya I’m at yer service, like the fancy folk does, but truly, I’m only ever at me own service.”

Kitt tilts her head, taking in his family history, which she did not ask for and considers the wiry Miqo’te man, not much taller than she is. A slick, fast talking thief.

“I was telling ya I coulda been anythin’, and I coulda but thievin’ is tailor made for someone like me. I’m not a big fella, as ye can see, and I’m not too strong. But then, I don’t haf to be. Me fingers are nimble and quicker than a virgin in a whorehouse.” He’s grinning again and it’s a little disconcerting.

He hooks his fingers into his belt, rocking back on his heels. “You might be thinkin’ I’m a flashy fella, what with me silk blouse, scarves and these trousers. Flamboyant. Jemma says I’m flamboyant. Only she says it kinda like a cuss word and she screws up her face when she says it.” He takes a quick breath and continues. “I dunno but that she never got over I stole her weddin’ ring and sold it. Sheesh, accidents happen, ya know? These silk scarves I acquired from a spice trader down way from Amh Araeng. His caravan was full up with salt peter and dimythrite, but what do I need that fer? Preferred the scarves. I like to dress like this but when I need to, I can vanish in a crowd so’s even me own mum couldn’t find me.”

Kitt interjected, “You were saying you require a healer?” He keeps right on talking.

“Speakin’ of mums, I must say for all some people would have ya believe thieves are without conscience, it’s me that supports me mum. Both me brothers, and sister too, got lotsa gil, but they rarely part with any of it. Me mum woulda been a beggar if not fer me. As is, she’s got a nice little cottage in the Lavender Beds and even a cow of her own. She’s happier than a pig in a puddle, and the only one in me family that lets me visit. That’s where I was when Reggie the Lunatic’s men found me.” He stops to inhale deeply.

“Are we getting to the healer part now, Master Jax?” Kitt’s voice drips with sarcasm, which is completely wasted on the man.

“Miss Kaleen, believe me when I say me mum is the worst cook in Eorzea, no contest. Me Fa ustta say if he’d married her fer her cookin’ he’d been mighty disappointed indeed. But he married her ‘cause she is the sweetest woman ya can imagine. She loves everyone and everyone loves her.” He’s beaming as he speaks. Kitt finds it exceedingly difficult to disregard any man who loves and respects his mother, so she listens. “This day, I’m telling ya about, I was over at her cottage. I was sittin’ at this little wooden table she has under the window. The shutters were open and I was watching her cow, name of Daisy, eatin’ the buttercups outta the window box, listenin’ to me mum sing. Suddenly these fellas come strollin’ up the walk, casual like, I recognized Maddog Wharton, and quick as that, I was looking fer the back door. I bolted past me mum, whose eyes were like saucers, but then the back door opened, and two other fellas were there. I was caught like a rabbit in a snare trap. This fella asks if I’m Jaret Jax and me Mum says to them, yes I is, at the same time I’m sayin’ no I ain’t. I felt the noose tighten around me throat sure. The bigger fella says Reggie is givin’ me a invitation like, to go with these fellas and visit him at the Reaper.”

Somehow she’s still tracking this story, so she asks, “The Reaper?” “Yeah Miss Kaleen, little underground pub out Thanalan way,  but anyway, like I says to you earlier, I’m a smart fella, and I added two and three together and made six, quick as could be, knowing that invitation was not a good thing at all.” He’s shaking his head and she snorts softly.   “I says, “no thank ye” – and they just grab me by me arms, and me mum was worried as ever. I didn’t like they was takin’ me out like a prisoner, but I liked it less they was givin’ me mum a fright. She was sayin’ t’ let me go and they didn’t pay her no heed at all! I was feelin’ pretty sad fer me mum on account that when you are a thief sometimes these things just happen. But hey, I’m like a cat, 29 lives and always landin’ on me feet, ya see? I says to me Mum not to fret, that I’m curious and gotta go and see Reggie. I says it like I mean it, and as I’m bein’ bullied down the path, I see she’s more relaxed, but frowning.

So off we go to Thanalan. The Reaper’s is not inside the town. You gotta ride fer a ways to get there and lemme tell you, it was a quiet ride. I was attemptin’ to make some nice social conversin’ and these fellas were shut up as tight as a princess’ chastity belt. Not a word the whole way. When we rode into the yard I was impressed. Now I been a lot of nice pubs on account me trade allows me to move in some elegant circles. Still I was dazzled when we got to the door and it was gold. The door was made of gold! I admit I was thinkin’ on how to thief that door, not to sell or nothin’, cause you never could sell something like that easy. Just to keep it and look on it cause it were so pretty. That’s what I was thinkin’ when I walked into the bar.

Strangest pub I ever saw. A long bar with a few stools and that were it.  On the other side o’ the room a fancy chair was sat upon a dais, I knew from experience it weren’t fer me to sit in. The fellas left the room and I was standin’ there. Some time goes by and I was gettin’ fidgety. I don’t like standin’ around. It makes me nervous. I was wanderin’ around lookin’ to see what I could thief to make up fer the inconvenience of waitin’ and all. But there weren’t nothin’ in that room that I cared anything fer. Then a door banged open and the hugest man I ever saw comes in bellowing Reggie’s name, as if I didn’t know who I was supposed to see. Still I wasn’t sayin’ nothin’ cause all that fella woulda haf t’ do is sit on me and that’d be it, life over! So I looked on polite like as Reggie came into the room.” Jaret shakes his head, whistling through his teeth. She rolls her eyes.

Reggie is old. Older than me Mum even. He had all these fancy clothes on and his pants were terrible tight, big belly showed that he’s real well fed. When he sat on that chair I was waitin’ to hear those pants split. But they didn't. He was wearing more jewelry than a magistrate’s wife, and I know cause me brother’s a magistrate, he has a wife and I had a chance a coupl’a times to look in her jewelry box. Anyway, he had this one ruby ring t'was near big as his head and it was damn tough fer me to pay attention since I was lookin’ so hard at the gem.”

Kitt sighs. “Can we please get to the point?”

Jaret looks at her with a wounded expression. “Course Miss Kaleen. Reggie said, “Get over here!” So I did. I walked up to the chair and stood by him, quiet and waitin’. When he started talkin’, he had my attention like right sharp! So I can tell ya about it accurate like here.” “He says to me he hears I’m a thief. Well likes I been tellin’ you, I’m a smart fella so I says I certainly ain’t a thief. Then he waves his hand all angry like and tells me to shut up. So I did. He says I got a reputation as a thief of extraordinary talents. Well, I thought that was a right nice compliment, so I relaxed a little. Then he says he has a employment opportunity for me on account I’m so good at what I do. Well sure I was all ears then, what would Reggie the Lunatic want with me?”

Kitt’s tail is twitching, back and forth, back and forth, sharp little movements, manicured fingernails lightly drumming against the table top. “Okay okay, I’m gettin’ to it now, Miss Kaleen. Reggie tells me he wants a wife, and it can’t be just anyone. So I’m thinkin’ what’s the problem and what does he want with a thief? He says the lady he wants is rich as a princess and lives in Kholusia. Her name is Leylah and she’s engaged, apparently even likes the fella she’s s’posed to marry. Reggie says he wants me go there and steal him a heart. A heart I says? He nods ever slow like and says, yes, I am to go and steal this Leylah lady’s heart and bring it to him.”

So I’m scratchin’ at me head wonderin’ a little about all this. I asks him, “you want me to steal the girl fer you?” He says no, that’s not what he wants. He doesn’t only just want the girl; he wants the girl’s heart. Like he wants the girl to love him.” Kitt scowls. I’m with you Miss Kaleen. Dirty dealings. I’m thinkin’ about all these implications, and Reggie is tellin’ me if I can do it, he’s gonna make me a very wealthy man and I’ll never have t’ steal nothin’ again. He doesn’t understand I’m a thief because It’s me passion not ‘cause I’m poor. Sheesh. He’s tellin’ me I’m goin’ t’ have the best equipment and all to help me, and can even hire a healer t’ protect me.” She sighs with relief, surely this is the end point. But no. “Well like I been tellin’ you, I’m a smart fella.  So I says I think he’s got his-self the wrong man. What he’s askin’ fer is a serious warrior fer the kidnapping and a mage type for a love spell or somethin’. I says this ‘cause I am considerin’ the whole thing. A woman already in love isn’t gonna wanna marry some old ugly fart, even if he is a rich crime boss. Her husband t’ be ain’t gonna just let me take her away without some interference. So that’s a bit of trouble I wouldn’t want t’ be borrowing neither. Stealing a heart ain’t somethin’ I ever did fer hire. I had me share of the ladies; they love me fer some reason. I love ‘em too. I dunno but I think ladies’ hearts should just be left alone. So I tell Reggie, Eorzea’s a big sea with a lotta eager fishes, and he hollers at me to shut up. I’m a smart fella. So I did.” “For the love of the almighty Twelve”, Kitt’s patience finally snaps. “You have 20 seconds to wrap this story up and get to the point.”

He gestures for her to calm down, shaking his head. “Yer a lil impatient for a healer, aint’cha?” Kitt growls, low and quiet in the back of her throat.  “Okay okay, I’m near done. See Reggie’s face was getting damn red and seeing him mad didn’t make him any better lookin’. I almost felt sorry fer him. He’s like me nephew, Willy, who is the worst spoilt kid I ever met. He wants somethin’ and there ain’t no sayin’ no to the brat. It ain’t even worth tryin’ to reason with him. I could see Reggie is a lot just that way. So I was thinkin’ what I was goin’ t’ do when Reggie snarls at me sayin’ it ain’t really a choice. I HAVE t’ do it else he’s gonna remove me head from me shoulders. So that was that. I had a new job. None too happy about it either. But then I’m a smart fella so I smiled and nodded.” Kitt is not smiling and not nodding. “Let me see if I have followed you. You are being coerced to steal a woman and her heart, under the threat of death and you think I’m going to join you in this deranged adventure?”

Jaret blinks, “Deranged adventure? Weren’t ya listening? I’m a smart man and an excellent thief. If ya stick with me it’ll be the heist of the century!”

[cyberphuck]

Golden Afternoon

As much time as we spent together, Adrian and I didn't actually share a lot of classes: we had different homerooms and different lunch periods and were even in different biology classes with the same teacher, like the educational powers that be wanted to keep us apart.

Or his mom did. I didn't know what kind of stuff witches could do. Adrian said she did stuff with plants, but maybe she had a plant that could warp the fabric of reality to keep that pink-haired girl away from her beloved only child. Chastity plant. Cockblock plant.

But she couldn't actually forbid him from seeing me, because even Mrs. Varsh knew that would only lead to me immediately becoming pregnant with his baby or something. So I could still come and visit him in his mom's shop after softball practice.

The best time to hang out with Adrian without his mom looking over our shoulders and making sure we left room between us for the Mother Goddess was just after he closed up the shop, around six. School let out at four, and I got out of softball practice at five thirty, which meant that after taking the bus to the library on Superior street and walking down to what some people called "Broomstick Boulevard" I only had to loiter among the foxglove and bergamot for fifteen minutes before Adrian locked the front door and we could hang out upstairs in the house, or downstairs in his mom's work room, where we were definitely not allowed to be under any circumstances. She kept a lot of cool stuff in there, though.

On a warm, bright afternoon on a day that hadn't bothered deciding whether it was late spring or early summer, I pushed open the door to Mrs. Varsh's apothecary shop, hearing the bell on the door jingle at the same time that magic prickled up my arm. Adrian called the feeling "like a spider wearing stilettos," and it got sharper the stronger the magic was. Sometimes it was pleasant. Other times not so much.

A pink-haired sophomore in dirt-smeared white pants and a Cooperhawks jersey didn't really fit in most places, but I stuck out like a goddamn pink-haired high schooler in a softball uniform in the shop, practically neon-bright in a place that was all earthtones and dusty sunlight filtering through the front window. There were three customers still browsing when I came to lean against the front counter where Adrian was marking things down in a ledger in his awful scribbly handwriting. He flashed me a "too cool and handsome to smile" look in greeting, and I gave him a "it's good to be so much cooler than anyone over thirty" nod back before turning to inspect what were considered impulse buys for a witch: bundles of sage, glass bottles, crystals of every color. Adrian was one of the slouchiest, sneering, fuck-the-system people I knew, so it was always weird to watch him stand up straight and smile charmingly at customers as they approached the counter, the piercings in his lips flashing as he said things like "Good afternoon Ms. Hemlock" and "Yes ma'am" and "Have a wonderful evening, say hello to the other ladies in your coven." I knew his mom was strict about manners, especially when it came to people who could give you crossed eyes and watery shits for a week if you pissed them off, but I still snickered at him and got a sub-zero glare in return.

A couple of sales and "Thank you ma'am, come back soon"s and insincere smiles later, Adrian was finally able to dash up to the front door and lock it, flipping the sign hanging in the window to 'CLOSED.' "I thought that broad with the purple hat was never going to decide what strain of marigold she wanted," he groaned as he came back to the counter. "For fuck's sake, if you've got a rash just get some cream for it. There's a reason western medicine exists, people, it's because it, like, works."

"It wasn't for a spell?"

"Nobody uses marigold in spellwork," Adrian snorted. "It's the main ingredient in poultices for skin conditions. She had her hands bandaged. Either she's been carving runes directly into her palms, which is stupid as hell, or she's got some kind of itch from forgetting to wash her hands after she works."

I wrinkled my nose. "Ew."

"Ew is right, and I wish they'd just take it to the clinic, because when mom finds out she's gonna make me wipe everything down with vinegar and lemon again." He leaned against the counter. "As if she isn't already piling work on me. I told her that if she wanted a slave, she should just build a Construct."

My eyebrows went up. "You said that to your mother?"

He shrugged. "Yeah." A pause. "Sort of. But she's been making me do all kinds of boring shit-- grinding down herbs, cleaning out the silk screens, poking plants."

"Grunt work," I said, stepping behind the counter and looking at the boxes of crystals lined up beside the cash register. "I bet you wouldn't have to do that stuff if you were a girl."

He throws his hands up. "I know! I'd be elbow-deep in all kinds of cool witchy shit by now if I were a chick, but I'm not even allowed to practice magic just because I'm a son instead of a daughter. I don't want to wear a pointy hat and dance naked under the moon or anything, I just want to learn to lay runes a little better. I've been looking at them, a little, and I think I can almost understand how they work. If I could just get a little training-- but if I even mentioned it to my mom, she'd freak out."

"That's bullshit." Stuck into a corner beside the register is a little white box about half the size of my hand; I winkle it out with my finger and then pull it towards me to open it.

"She hasn't found out yet, but I've been experimenting with-- oh shit, don't open that, Ash!"

I grin, already pulling the lid off. "What's in there, a horrible gooey demon? Severed finger? Used needle?" Nestled on a bed of cotton is a shiny black stone, a little chunkier than I was used to seeing in the shop. Someone's carved a simple little rune into it, rubbed with gold leaf to make it stand out.

"Don't look, it was supposed to be a surprise," Adrian whined, then shook his head. "God, I'm glad there isn't actually anything dangerous in there, I'd have a hard time explaining your stupid dead ass to my mom when she gets home."

"It's pretty," I said, staring down at it. "...Is it safe to touch?"

"Now you ask me," Adrian muttered. "Yeah, you can touch it. Just don't drop it, it's pretty fragile. I broke two of those damn things carving the rune before I figure out how to do it with a lighter hand."

I lifted the crystal out of the cotton, running a thumb over the rune. "What is it?"

"Black tourmaline." He wasn't looking at me. "It's a pretty standard protection crystal, with a really simple strengthening rune on it to make it, uh, louder." He rolled his shoulders stiffly, trying to look casual and failing. "It's for you."

"For me?"

"Yeah for you, and it was gonna be a surprise but you've got klepto hands apparently," he said, cheeks pink. "I was gonna cage it in something nice, like silver, and get a chain for it so you could wear it around your neck. It dispels negative energy and stuff. I thought you'd like it."

I could feel myself smiling, the crystal warming in my hand. "I do like it. It's really cool."

"...You think so?"

"Yeah. The gold looks good too." I looked up at him. "I know you could get into a lot of trouble for making this for me. It's kind of badass. Thanks, Adrian."

"Uh." He lifted his chin. "Yeah. You're welcome. I mean, you can't have it yet, it's too fragile to just carry around. But, uh. You're welcome."

"You said that." I leaned across the counter to kiss him on the cheek. "Dumbass. Hey, do you think your mom would let you off Saturday? They're doing that music thing in the park. I think it's just a dumb local band, but there's food trucks there too."

"Uh."

"Lots of people from school are going. If you want."

"Yeah, I--" he swallowed. "Yeah, I want. I mean." He cleared his throat. "It sounds okay. I'll go if you're going."

"You can text me tonight," I said, setting the crystal back in it's padded box and replacing the lid. "How long until your mom gets home? I brought that song I keep telling you about. You've got the thing to hook up to your stereo, right?"

Adrian shook his head, as if waking up from a dream. "Somewhere. I think it's in a drawer upstairs. C'mon." - Ko-Fi Twitter: @su1cidesauce

[lux-i-fer]

Café Amor

Synopsis: For "Who The Hell Is Cupid" Valentine's Fic Exchange. Sitting in the precinct parking lot, completely clothed, and holding coffee was not Lucifer's plan for Valentine's Day.

Ao3 link

Rating: G

Notes: Hello and welcome to my week late Valentine's Day Fic!! I've been on vacation for the past week (without my laptop *gasp*) and so I had no time to post. So I'm super sorry it's so late! This is unbetaed because of my rush (it was a rush job transferring too) so any mistakes are mine. Anyways my prompt for the lovely Antarctic_Echoes was stuffed toys and such. It's fun, I promise. The title translates to "Coffee Love".

February 14th 2017, 21st century A.D. was officially the first time the Devil didn't know what to do.

Valentine’s Day, the holiday dedicated to lust and all things sensual. The one day out of the year that Lux's patrons and dancers alike blended together in a sexually charged lingerie filled menagerie. A time when red confetti and gold streamers rained down on the sea of debauchery every hour.

It was Lucifer's personal sin-filled playground and he wasn't attending.

No instead this year on Valentine’s Day Lucifer Morningstar found himself completely clothed, sober, and in the precinct parking lot. In place of holiday themed shots and chasers there was lukewarm coffee in the Corvette’s center console.

Lucifer didn't buy flowers because they reminded him of the hospital. There was no chocolate because that was for the spawn. He didn't do dinner because Chloe was working late. There were no cut out hearts because he was the Devil and good, menacing Devils did not give pathetic declarations of love on construction paper. And Lucifer certainly was not dressing up like a poor representation of his half-breed brother, “Cupid”; no matter how much he despised him.

In fact, Lucifer hadn't gotten anything at all. Well that was a lie, he'd gotten the coffee. But he supposed it really didn't count.

He glanced at the small hearts Sharpied in next to his name. The over-friendly barista had written his name with blatantly forced flourishes. She obviously hadn't cared whether or not the second cup was for someone else.

Hearts or no hearts, the coffee was not going to get him laid. No matter how many Lifetime movies tried to tell him otherwise.

Lucifer let his head fall heavily on the Corvette’s steering wheel. Oh Father maybe he should break down and get chocolate.

With a sigh he checked the time: 7:46. Only Chloe would choose to work late on Valentine’s Day.

Not that he minded, of course. He certainly admired her dedication. Especially when catching particularly nasty criminals put that spark in her eye.

Lucifer tried to ignore how his heart swelled with pride whenever he thought of her.

Her laughing at her own silly jokes, her taking down bad guys, her dressed in that low-cut shirt he loved, with the white buttons and the lace b-- no, no distractions . He mentally kicked himself.

Bloody emotions. Evil, bewitching woman. Stupid holiday.

He sighed. Why was he overthinking this? It was just bringing Chloe coffee. He did this every day; the only thing that was different was the damn label.

Lucifer forced himself to get out of the car. He grabbed the coffee with a little more force than needed and headed into the precinct.

It was no surprise that her desk lamp was the only light on in the building. It's owner, however; was missing. And that was a surprise.

“Detective darling?”

Lucifer's echoing query wasn't returned.

The coffee seemed to freeze in his hands as he stepped down the stairs.

Where could she be?

“Detective?”

As Lucifer neared Chloe's empty desk he saw half signed case papers. The pen lay uncapped next to them, ink seeping onto the cheap metal desktop.

Her coat hung untouched on the back of her chair, reassuring him she was here somewhere. Lucifer set Chloe’s cup down, taking care to avoid anything important. His newly freed fingertips danced thoughtfully across the worn leather as he scanned the rest of the surface for clues.

A glint caught his eye and Lucifer couldn't help the beginnings of a smile that played across his lips.

There among Chloe's legal work and silly little knick-knacks sat a tiny stuffed bear. Not just any bear, an angel bear; with tiny metallic cellophane wings and halo to boot. It gazed placidly at him with its cheerfully stitched smile teasing him.

Lucifer tugged the yellow sticky note out of its fuzzy white paws. The paper revealed a big pink heart on the bear’s stomach. In the middle, printed in bold white letters read NICE.

A disbelieving scoff rose in his throat. The bloody woman lived to torture him.

Lucifer turned his attention to the sticky note.

Conference room 166 was scrawled in Chloe's familiar chicken scratch.

He huffed out an amused chuckle and his smile stretched further. Sticking the note back to the bear, Lucifer stacked Chloe's coffee on top of his and swiped the bear off the desk.

Conference room 166 was a rarely used storage room, barely the size of a cubicle that sat at the end of a side hallway designated for far more important things than extra staples. Lucifer himself had only been in it once to grab a box of envelopes for Chloe's evidence forms.

His feet found the familiar path easily and soon Lucifer found himself at the door of conference room 166. It opened without a fuss and Lucifer found himself greeted with the same scene from before.

A single light shown on the small wooden table that just barely fit inside. Unlike Chloe's desk, the table was clutter free, save for a single black bear.

Lucifer took a step closer.

The new bear stared up at him with the same sewn on grin as the last one, but instead of wings and a halo, it had shiny red horns and a tail.

It's black paws held another yellow sticky note, tempting Lucifer just as the same as the first.

Under it was a similar red heart with NAUGHTY stamped on in white lettering.

Lucifer shifted his gaze to the paper in his hand. On it was a single word printed in all caps.

SURPRISE!

Confused, Lucifer searched the shadows for traces of Chloe.

He whipped his head around as a click sounded behind him.

“What--?”

Lucifer's words died in his throat at the sight of Chloe leaning against the door. He felt his grip on the coffee cups loosen as he took her in.

Her hair hung loosely in her face, hiding pieces of her bright grin behind slices of its golden strands. The white blouse Lucifer had fantasized about all evening lay unbuttoned a few too many holes to be modest.

Lucifer all but dropped the cups and bear onto the table.

“Hi,” he said, not trusting himself to say more.

Fire danced playfully in her eyes as she held up a takeout bag.

“Hi,” she echoed slyly.

“I suppose the coffee is a bit redundant now, isn't it?”

Chloe took a step towards him, a smirk spreading on her lips. “You brought me coffee?”

Chloe dropped the takeout bag on the table behind him before twining her arms around his neck, making sure to knot her fingers in the wool collar of his jacket. Her warm fingertips brushed languidly against the skin that lay underneath.

Lucifer drew in a sharp breath, trying to fight the lust creeping into his eyes. His hands didn't seem to get the memo and drifted low on her hips, itching to draw her closer.

Chloe seemed to read his mind as she leaned flush against his body and gave him a welcoming peck.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his lips.

The taste of her sizzled on his tongue. Every doubt he had about Valentine’s Day vanished. Lucifer peered down at her with a sloppy smile. His gaze swept over Chloe and drank in her divinity and grace, allowing it to wash over him like a winter storm.

To Hell with chastity.

Lucifer captured her mouth in another kiss. Deeper than the first but just as heated. Chloe's fingers tightened their grip on the back of his neck, hungrily returning it.

The passionate kisses quickly began to melt into softer ones as Chloe eased herself away, just enough to rest her forehead on his.

“Did you like the bears?” she asked breathlessly.

Lucifer chuckled and rose to meet her lips again.

“I bloody loved them. Do you truly like the coffee? It's a bit rubbish, I know I bring it every day but--”

He was cut off by Chloe's laughter pouring into his ears like honey.

“Lucifer, shut up, I love coffee. Now come on, the food is getting cold.”

Chloe unwound herself from Lucifer's body and moved to the table to rifle through the takeout bag. He watched in disbelief as she unconsciously grabbed her coffee and took a luxurious sip. It took everything in Lucifer's power not to cross himself then and there.

She flashed him another sultry glance and Lucifer knew that somehow, the coffee might actually be getting him laid tonight.

[glovenose82-blog]

Better Call Saul Rediscovers The Lost Art Of Letter Writing

In what appears to be early morning light, Jimmy -- in his good old University of American Samoa sweatshirt, with a hoodie over it -- reaches into the trunk of a car and pulls out a couple of gym bags, saying he thinks he has everything, but that if he forgot something, he'll "figure it out on the way." Kim, also dressed for leisure, stands next to the car, fiddling with her keys and not quite meeting Jimmy's eye as she checks, "You're back on Thursday." "Thursday, yeah," Jimmy confirms, seeming surprised and relieved that she's addressing him at all. "Unless we break down in Amarillo," he adds with a smile she does not return, instead making a Kimface and nodding. When he comes around to where she's standing, she quickly moves to close the trunk, but Jimmy proceeds nonetheless: "Kim, I want you to know, I don't take this for granted. It means a lot." Clearly, the answer Jimmy's hoping for -- if not expecting -- is something along the lines of "Don't mention it" or "You'd do the same for me" or "It's a small thing to ask of someone who loves you"...

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...but Kim just nods again, icy, and says, "I'll see you Thursday," not seeming to look forward to it very much. Jimmy sets his jaw and -- seeing that he's not going to be sent on this journey through Amarillo with so much as a handshake, never mind a kiss goodbye -- leaves her to whatever responsible adult activity she might get up to while he's not around. I'm barely either of those things so I can only guess what that might be. ...Oil change???

Kim has dropped Jimmy at the Albuquerque Transit Center, and when we see him next, he's on a bus bound for Houston, sitting in a window seat. Next to him, one of his gym bags is open and positively bristling with the spoils of Kim's "Something Stupid" shopping spree. I would have 100% understood had its purpose been to bring some artificial sense of order to her own messy life -- Ask Me About My Stack Of Coil-Bound Sketchbooks And Boxes Of Reserve Uniball Vision Pens -- but no: what Kim has in mind is evidently going to require Jimmy to write a LOT of personal correspondence. He writes postcards. He writes cards. He writes in different pens and pencils. He arranges his fingers around his various writing implements in awkward positions to disguise his handwriting. He licks envelope after envelope. He flexes his hand to try to relieve cramps. When the bus picks up more passengers at some unidentified southwest outpost, an older guy stops at Jimmy's aisle and asks if he may take the seat on which Jimmy has set up his mobile office; Jimmy says sure, and starts to gather up his stuff, but warns, "I had a pile of cheese chili fries back at Stuckey's -- with onions on top. The last guy who sat here didn't last five miles but, you know, you're welcome to it." Jimmy's fellow passenger decides to move on and minimize his methane exposure, though regardless of which seat he ends up in, he is still on a mobile interstate fart canister. We eventually see that Jimmy has switched to the opposite side of the bus for the Shreveport-bound leg, the lone passenger still awake after dark, licking envelopes under the faint light above his seat. He gulps down a 5-Hour Energy. And when a new day dawns, we see that Jimmy is just one of many bus passengers scratching away at their correspondence. What a wild coincidence that Jimmy's ended up on a conveyance with so many other practitioners of this old-fashioned pastime!!! Jynetta, a teen in messy twin buns and a butterfly necklace, comes up the aisle to hand Jimmy a pile of note cards, out of their envelopes for him to review; he compliments her choice to put hearts over all her "i"s, and pays her a sawbuck for the ten cards she wrote, offering her the chance to do some postcards for 50 cents apiece, which she cheerfully accepts. OHHHHH, it's NOT a coincidence AT ALL. Bubba pops up from behind Jimmy with a smaller stack and receives with equanimity Jimmy's fearless feedback about coming across too angry: "Make it that you're-- You're sad that you even have to write the letter. 'I couldn't believe people could be so heartless until I heard about you' -- 'kay?" Bubba's with it, taking both a Lincoln for the five notes he wrote, and another batch of blanks. Jimmy then taps Chastity, a young woman across the aisle; unfortunately, she ignored Jimmy's direction to be respectful and doesn't get paid for a card filled with swears, which he regretfully tears up in front of her. An editor's job is tough, you guys.

Finally, Jimmy disembarks the bus at his final destination and walks into the post office in Coushatta, Louisiana, 71019. He's back out less than a minute later, sitting on a bench outside, ignoring the sweet pooch who wants to be his friend, and waiting for whatever's next -- which, for us, is the opening credits, in which a tie changes from garish lavenders to garish blues while being inspected by a passing tarantula. Even the tarantula doesn't want it.

Over to El Michoacano. Having apparently exhausted his sick days, Nacho's back at work -- and, in fact, is sitting in for Hector and watching over Domingo's shoulder as he takes dealer payments. Domingo also has to take dealer excuses: this dude, Blingy, casually says he's a little short due to a "dumbass festival over at the fairground -- Indian shit," which was lousy with rent-a-cops: "We're going to make it right next time." "You're goddamn right you are," says Domingo, eyes hard. "Fo' sho'!" chirps Blingy. "Next week." Domingo snaps the elastic band around the bills, dismissing Blingy, but Nacho would still like a word, and calls Blingy back when he's halfway to the door. In a show of shocking impertinence, Blingy lightly tells Nacho he has to go, but Nacho repeats the non-request, and Blingy comes over to the side of the table, asking what's up. Nacho just stares at him for a while and then blinks pointedly, at which Blingy leans down...whereupon Nacho yanks the giant hoop earring out of his right ear -- doing him a favour, honestly, because while I gather, with such a name, he feels he has a reputation to live up to, that shit is gaudy as hell. Domingo steals a tiny peek behind him as Blingy groans as quietly as he can, and Nacho calmly pulls out a wad of napkins; when Nacho moves the dispenser over to him, Blingy respectfully pulls a bunch to clean up the mess he rudely made spilling all his blood on Nacho's table. "What you owe, you owe with interest," murmurs Nacho. Blingy nods and scurries out. Domingo's clearly fucked up about this, but since he doesn't want any of his body jewellery removed so abruptly, he manages to kiss a little ass anyway, turning around to tell Nacho, "You had to do that, man! Guy's not going to learn otherwise." "Mmhmm," Nacho agrees. "So why didn't you do it." Domingo, looking terrified, gives this performance review one quick nod and, fortunately, has another dealer coming in to distract him.

After a long day of intimidating human parasites, Nacho drives his hot rod home -- and WHAT a home! My man lives in a very stylish Brutalist bungalow. Before he enters, we see who's waiting for him: a blonde, lying on a love seat and scratching at a glass pipe; and a brunette, lounging on an adjacent couch, picking her big toenail with one hand and flipping through channels with the other. She's just landed on a home shopping channel when Nacho opens the door and they both sit up to greet him, which is when we see the enormous piece of automotive pop art over the brunette's head.

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I am not so much with the art and thought it could possibly be a real Roy Lichtenstein but, uh, no, it is clip art from Shutterstock. Anyway, both these women seem to be Nacho's girlfriend based on their greetings -- one calls him "babe" and is surprised he's home so early; the other offers to make him dinner -- but he has nothing to say to either of them, instead tossing them each a little sachet of drugs, to grateful grins. The brunette asks if he's going to smoke with them, but he doesn't answer that either, and we watch through the wall of glass as he goes through the house to his bedroom, past several other large-scale paintings. I don't recognize them and there isn't exactly a Shazam for art, so I can't tell you if these are actually significant pieces, but I think the point is that Nacho has chosen to spend his money on gracious living...and on red leather furniture for his drug-enthusiast lady friends. In the bedroom, Nacho locks the door, takes off his jacket, and sets his gun and an envelope of cash on his nightstand; when he strips off his shirt and his tank top rides up, we see the gunshot wound on his side has healed up nicely. Then, just to give you an idea of the kind of living well that should, on its own, be Nacho's best revenge, he crosses through his walk-in closet to ANOTHER CLOSET containing built-in shelves he is NOT EVEN USING; and a safe, which he opens. He's putting his things away when he knocks a clear plastic envelope onto the floor, and we see it contains a phony Manitoba driver's license with his picture on it. (I knew Michael Mando was Canadian so I thought this might be a cute nod to his birthplace, but no, he was born in Quebec City.) Pensively, Nacho picks up the sleeve and pulls out both "his" own ID and one behind it, for his dad, before clenching his jaw, flaring his nostrils, and locking them away again. I'll say this for making Manitoba part of your fake backstory: no one's going to fact-check the details you come up with because nooooooobody cares.

Then we're with Ziegler's crew as they get their promised R&R at, what else, a strip club. There, Kai (who else) is the first we see enjoying the attentions of one of its curvaceous performers. While the ladies work, Ziegler is sitting at a dark bar away from the action, looking very Lutheran, or possibly just bored; Mike stands with his back to some glass bricks, surveying the scene; apparently satisfied that the crew guys aren't embarrassing themselves or him, he comes over to Ziegler and exchanges some words we can't hear over the pounding music. Ziegler gets up, and after Mike stops at a bouncer and briefly confers with him as well, Mike leads the way to the door...

...and when we see them next, Mike and Ziegler have repaired to a much quieter pub and are chatting over beers. Ziegler volunteers that his father was also an engineer: "Learned the work by doing the work. Hands like knots of a tree." Mike smiles fondly. Ziegler points to something behind the bar and tells Mike his father built it. Surprised, Mike frowns: "The Sydney Opera House." "Those concrete arches -- impossible in 1957. Six years it took to solve the problem. Six. And years more to pour correctly. To that, my father gave ten years of life." The bartender comes by to take an order from a thirtysomething mop-haired dude, whose name we'll soon learn is Terry. The bartender remembers that his first drink was a stout and asks if he wants another one, but Terry says he wants to try the "hee fee wee sin." Ziegler can't stop himself from correcting Terry's pronunciation of "Hefeweizen" (more like "HAY-feh-VIE-zen," in case you don't want to be schooled by a real-ass German the next time you try to order one), and Terry amiably apologizes for mangling it, asking Ziegler to repeat it.

AMC

Mike doesn't look thrilled that Ziegler's engaging in this potentially memorable exchange, but also can't exactly put a stop to it without making it even more memorable than it already could be for Terry, and when Ziegler pays for Terry's beer and Terry goes on his way, Mike evidently decides to let it go without comment, and Ziegler returns to the subject they were discussing before Terry interrupted: "The Opera. It's for the ages. For my father, it was his achievement: the creation that will endure." Ziegler taps the glass with his nails to put a button on the conversation and asks Mike what his "papa" did. Mike snorts, "My dad? Ohhhh, left behind a cold water flat and a stack of bills, that's about all." "Not true!" gasps Ziegler. "He also left behind you, Michael! You are his legacy." This old-man friendship is extremely endearing, which therefore also makes it extremely worrisome for me personally given the many ways it could yet go wrong. For now: Mike laughs ruefully at Ziegler's sentimental framing of the elder Ehrmantraut's legacy before asking whether Ziegler ever thought about having kids. Ziegler looks down at his hands: "Once, maybe. My Margarethe, she's enough for me. She's my heart. This is the longest I've ever been away from her. Twenty-six years, never this long away from home." "To home," says Mike, tilting his glass at Ziegler's for a clink of agreement. They both sip, and before Ziegler can ask about MIKE's fatherhood, if he was going to, the bouncer from the strip club is at the door calling for Mike, who checks to make sure Ziegler will be okay at the chill bar without him before going to investigate...

...and finding out that of course Kai could not be trusted to stay out of trouble, has been escorted outside for touching a performer during a private dance, and is belligerently trying to argue that they can't kick him out because he paid for the dance AND to stagger past the bouncers restraining him to get back inside. The lead bouncer threatens to call the cops, at which Mike steps out of the shadows, telling the bouncer he doesn't need to do that, already getting his cash out. The bouncer, reasonably, wants to know who Mike is; Mike calmly tells him, "I'm the guy who's telling you this one's had too much and I'm here to get him out of your hair." The lead bouncer asks about Kai's buddies, and after Mike gets him to admit that they're behaving themselves, he hands over a couple of bills to secure their right to continue hanging out while Mike takes "this idiot" home. Kai then starts arguing with Mike, because he may be sexy but he is not very wise. "You are done," Mike tells him firmly. Kai sort of wavers like he's considering lunging at Mike, but when Mike urges him to try it, Kai summons the last of his wits and decides against it. After one of the secondary bouncers has dragged Kai off toward Mike's car, Mike deeply sighs, apologizes to the lead bouncer, and asks after the dancer; the lead bouncer says she's fine. Mike peels off some more cash "for her trouble": "All good?" The lead bouncer says, "We're cool." HE will never be as cool as Mike, but I don't blame him for trying to put them in the same category.

At the chill bar, Ziegler evidently got bored and is now sitting with Terry and his buddy, sketching schematics on the back of a coaster as he explains -- minus salient details, naturally -- the engineering challenges inherent in his current project. When Mike returns to retrieve Ziegler, he can't quite believe the loose-lipped spectacle he became in Mike's absence, but keeps cool by merely putting a hand on Ziegler's shoulder, almost imperceptibly pocketing the coaster, and telling him, "Time to go." Ziegler -- toasty from the beer, and enjoying having an audience to lecture avuncularly -- wants Mike to join them. Mike pointedly replies, "Your wife's calling?," and Ziegler is too drunk to get it at first, marveling, "My WIFE???" "...Yeah," says Mike. Ziegler locks in then and gets up, thanking his new young friends for their "hospitility."

Outside, Mike backs out of his parking space while Ziegler and Kai sit silently, careful not to do anything to make Dad more mad at them.

As Stereolab's extremely apropos "Tempter" plays on her headphones ("Midway between happiness and sadness boiling but not overflowing / fails to only make a better come back, more powerful and poignant and falls again / Destructive lust for life erected, on the verge pricked up like a picket / fearing to respond to the tempting but malevolent call of the other side"), Kim works intensely on Huell's file; the music's up so high that she doesn't hear Jimmy until he's leaning in to her face to get her attention. When she pulls off her headphones, he tells her he's going to the nail salon to "finish setting up"; she tells him that's a good idea and that she'll see him later, trying to forestall further conversation by putting her headphones back on immediately. Jimmy makes it almost to the door before turning back to see if she wants him to bring dinner home, but Kim is pretty clearly making a point to need as little as possible from him right now, saying she'll just "scrounge" but that he should do what he wants. He hesitantly lets her dismiss him.

At the shop, Mrs. Nguyen is on her way out for the night when she hears Jimmy sighing in his office and goes in to see what's up. Jimmy's surrounded by dozens of phones, all plugged into chargers, as he says he has to be there a bit longer but that he'll lock up when he leaves, if that's okay. "Wife mad at you?" she guesses. "She's not my wife," says Jimmy hoarsely, halfway between a haughty chuckle and a sob, but then admits, "I don't know." "Yeah, she's mad at you," says Mrs. Nguyen knowingly. She sidles back out into the hall and returns with a bottle of vodka, pouring him a generous belt: "Go on." Jimmy has just taken a bracing sip when Mrs. Nguyen delivers her happy not-wife, happy life advice: "You take her to dinner. Nice place, with a waiter. Cloth napkin. You bring flowers. You say 'sorry.' Then, say 'sorry' again. Whatever she says, you say 'sorry.'" It's a sexist cliché, but like...it also probably works about 90% of the time. Straight men should be more sorry in general, in my opinion, and white men? PLEASE. "I think we might be past that," murmurs Jimmy. Mrs. Nguyen doesn't bother telling him to say "sorry" even more, instead saying, "I'll leave the bottle." I feel like you can either be sorry or drunk, so this might be a high-level sabotage on Mrs. Nguyen's part. When she's gone, Jimmy carefully sticks a label on a phone and sets it on his desk. How many dang phones does one disbarred lawyer need?!

The next day, Kim is ponytailed for battle as she stalks through the courthouse halls, trailed by three young associates, and heads straight to Suzanne's office. Opening the door just a little, Kim pokes her head in to see if Suzanne's ready for her, since she's early; Suzanne checks her watch and waves her in, which is when Kim throws the door open and reveals her whole squad: Gary, Stef, and Pat. After a sidelong glare at Kim, Suzanne rises from her seat to shake everyone's hands, and then plops down to find out what form of baloney Kim's about to serve her. First, Kim responds to Suzanne's proffer: time served, three to six months' probation, and a plea to simple battery -- a misdemeanor, as Suzanne notes, before recapping that Kim's trying to go from eighteen months of jail time for Huell to zero: "Sorry, I can't do that." Kim accepts that, and turns to Gary for Act II: a motion for continuance, since they need more time to prepare their defense. The officer didn't canvass for additional witnesses, but businesses around the site of the incident have security cameras, and Huell's legal team will need to subpoena the tapes. Instead of addressing Gary, Suzanne rudely turns to Kim to ask if she doesn't think that's "a little much." Kim coolly says they doubt a judge will. Stef takes over to say they just want the most information they can get -- to wit, they're filing a motion for the cop's personnel file. "Good luck with that," sniffs Suzanne, once again to Kim...

AMC

...who is not rattled by Suzanne's attitude, like, at all. Pat adds that if the cop has a history of run-ins with anyone Huell ever knew, basically, they want to know. "You're thinking of pursuing civil litigation," Suzanne snits at Kim. "We are in conversation with the ACLU, assessing the possibility that Mr. Babineaux's civil rights may have been violated."

AMC

Suzanne looks like she almost respects it as she curtly says, "Okay. Is that all?" Kim gives her a brief Kimface before saying, with some portent, "For now." Suzanne gathers up all the motions, saying she'll deal with these issues and then set a trial date. And since she feels that's all they have to talk about, Kim and her crew pack up and prepare to leave -- but, of course, Suzanne would like a private word with Kim first. "You're throwing three $400-an-hour associates at a pro bono case?" "I never said this was pro bono," says Kim. Suzanne is completely gobsmacked and literally throws up her hands as she asks Kim what the plan is, here: "Because shock and awe isn't going to cut it. Bring every fancy associate you got, file all the motions you want, and at the end of all this, your client is still going away." "Okay," says Kim serenely. "I guess we'll see." Kim strides out with her usual perfect posture, betraying nothing...right up until she gets to the outer door of Suzanne's office; as she crosses the camera, we barely hear her take one slightly unsteady breath. Look, USPS. You've let us ALL down at one point or another in our lives. Do not fuck over Kim right now.

"Morning" "dawns" for Ziegler and his crew, who stagger through the warehouse to the truck seeming a bit more sluggish than usual but, generally, in good spirits. Ziegler's bringing up the rear as Mike stands between him and the truck for A Bit Of A Chat, which Ziegler doesn't seem to see coming, cheerfully telling Mike that "everyone seems much improved." Mike just stands there regarding Ziegler, who finally asks whether something's wrong. Respectfully waiting until the last of Ziegler's guys has boarded the truck, Mike reaches into his pocket and hands Ziegler the coaster he'd sketched on the night before. "This?" sputters Ziegler. "Don't be concerned. I said nothing! Men at a bar, talking to make talk, and look -- no details, no scale at all. Could be a skyscraper. Could be box for shoes." Not sure how many shoe boxes need load-bearing walls, but then I never bought any by McQueen. Ziegler smiles, endearingly but also naïvely, and when Mike just stands there continuing to gaze at him, Ziegler's face falls a little and he insists, "I said nothing about the construction that would not be true for thousands of others. By now they have forgotten me entirely." "They forgot," Mike repeats. "The German national in the middle of Albuquerque, talking about pouring hundreds of tons of concrete in a secret underground location." Well, sure, anything sounds bad if you describe it accurately. Ziegler, chastened, admits, "Yeah, you're right." He apologizes, saying he had too much to drink and "may have said" more than he should have. Mike takes a step into Ziegler's personal space to make his point emphatically and clearly: "The man we're working for is very serious. Think about the precautions we take to keep everything that goes on here quiet. Think about how much money you're making. Think about what happens if something goes wrong. Do you understand what I am saying to you." Ziegler gives Mike a long look and gravely replies, "I do understand. And I'm sorry to cause any problem." Instead of adding, "Please don't tell the man I'm working for that he should kill me," Ziegler holds up the coaster and promises, "You have my word, nothing like this will happen again." Keeping his eyes locked on Ziegler's, Mike snatches the coaster away and puts it back in his pocket, taking a long beat before telling Ziegler, "Okay. Let's get you to work." They might need to grab Ziegler some coveralls that haven't been very recently pissed in first.

Judge Munsinger's already at a 10 when he yanks open the door to his chambers and demands of Suzanne, standing there with Kim, "Are you prosecuting Santa Claus?" Suzanne has no idea what he's talking about, and follows him inside as he yelps, "It looks like Miracle On 34th Street in here." Indeed, his desk is covered with four plastic bags and two USPS bins filled with multi-coloured envelopes -- and, per Munsinger, this is just today's haul: "All addressed to me, all from some backwater in Louisiana?!" He pulls one from the top of the pile: "'Get your hands off our hero,' they say. 'Mercy for Huell Babineaux,' they say. What, like I'm sending him to the electric chair?" He asks whether Kim "started this particular ball rolling"; aghast, she says she certainly did not instruct residents of Coushatta, Louisiana to start writing letters to him. Technically correct, the best kind of correct! "That being said," Kim adds, "it's clear Mr. Babineaux has touched the lives of many people in his hometown." Since she is not an idiot, Suzanne can smell the bullshit, and furiously works her jaw as Kim goes on to say she knows that Coushattans are planning to send a contingent "to show their support during the trial." "You're talking about a bunch of yahoos packing my court?!" sputters Munsinger. Suzanne tries to suggest that they can just ignore all this and proceed with whatever trial strategy she had before she found out about the mail bombs, to which Kim says Suzanne shouldn't be surprised by the outpouring given that she knows Huell's history as well as she does. Munsinger announces that he doesn't want to get one more letter from "some swamp-dwelling do-gooder." (Jealous of wetlands much, New Mexico?) Suzanne thanks the judge for bringing the matter to her attention, and asks if she may take some of the mail. Munsinger presses a bag on her in addition to the bin she already had her eye on, and sends counsel off with a final warning: "I have looked at this case. It does not merit a circus. Now, you two WORK IT OUT." Kim primly says they've tried. "Try. Again," orders Munsinger.

AMC

Suzanne stares daggers at Kim, and though we don't see Kim's face in reaction, we may reasonably assume she DGAF.

Then we're in Suzanne's outer office as she starts yelling instructions to everyone around; she basically wants every available piece of data on Huell that exists in police and court records: "I want to figure out why a pickpocket has people this overheated." She opens a card on the top of the file and reads: "'Huell Babineaux is wrongfully accused. He's a good man. He'd never do nothing like the things you say he's done. He's a kind man and a good friend to everyone.' Jesus, they do make him sound like Santa Claus." One of her office underlings, Ben, hands her a card with a phone number on it, which she dials on speakerphone. It goes through to the voicemail of a rumbly Cajun gentleman who ends with "Have a blessed day," and she leaves a brief message. Various hands continue opening mail, and when Suzanne comes up with another phone number, she dials it and gets through to an Eloise Lockhard, who says everyone in Coushatta knows Huell, a pillar of Eloise's church. Suzanne asks which church that is, and when Eloise says it's Free Will Baptist on Bogan Lane, Ben quickly Googles, and as Suzanne's asking whether there's a particular reason Huell is so beloved by the congregation, Ben brings his laptop over to show her the church's homepage, which has been taken over by a fundraising call to action on Huell's behalf. When Eloise asks Suzanne to repeat who she is...

AMC

...we see that Jimmy's assembled his whole film crew for this project, and that Make-Up Girl is posing as Eloise, asking Suzanne to explain exactly what her role is in Huell's trial. Suzanne reluctantly admits that she's prosecuting him. "You're the one persecuting our Huell?" gasps "Eloise." "How could you? To go after someone so sweet and kind, with all those lies? Well, I'd tell you what I really think of you--" Cut to Jimmy, who directs her by silently folding his hands in prayer. "Eloise" resumes: "But Jesus is listening, so I'll just say, SHAME ON YOU!" She hangs up before Suzanne can defend herself, which gives Jimmy a chance to offer some feedback, calling Make-Up Girl's performance "not too shabby!" "I've been taking improv classes," she shyly replies. Oh, Make-Up Girl. If it's future income you have in mind, you'd be better off at beauty school.

Back at the office, Suzanne still has the church's homepage up, and decides to try to call its pastor, Blaise Hansford. This time Jimmy grabs the phone that's ringing and realizes it's the church; frantically, he motions for Sound Guy to cue up a CD labeled "Organ Music" before he picks up. Now, what happens next really cannot be properly conveyed in print, but both Jimmy and Bob Odenkirk are clearly enjoying the chance to bust out their Cajun accent in the service of bamboozling a prosecutor. Jimmy does some business with the organ music, claiming he's going to step out in the vestibule, and settles in for a nice chat. Suzanne tries again not to be too specific about her role in Huell's proceeding as she says she wants to know more about him. Jimmy says Huell is a lovely person, inside and out, and that while he might say the same about any of his parishioners, Huell is special, with "a heart as big as Lake Ponchartrain." Camera Guy shakes his head at this egregiously corny turn of phrase and indicates the whiteboard behind him, where Jimmy's high-level direction includes "Keep It Simple, Stupid," but Jimmy, of course, already knows all the rules well enough to break them and waves him off. Suzanne asks what Huell did to earn so much devotion from his brothers and sisters at Free Will Baptist, and "Pastor Hansford" takes the long way to tell her that Huell saved a bunch of elderly parishioners when a fire broke out during their Bible study by physically carrying each of them out of the building. When Suzanne asks what happened to the church, "Pastor Hansford" assures her that it's fine, and motions to Camera Guy, who does something on his laptop; Suzanne then hears a notification ding and turns to see the counter on Huell's fundraiser as more donations are added to the total. "Pastor Hansford" wraps it up: "Now, y'all sound like a real nice lady, and I know you're only doing your job, but I want you to understand something: I think you got the wrong end of the stick, here! Huell Babineaux is very important to us! Now, he-- He-- He would never hurt a police officer! I believe it's just a misunderstanding, and I-- I believe he might've been helping his friend, and that's the Huell that I know." "Pastor Blaise" then invents a distraction, telling Clarence the organist to put some robes away because they're for Communion...

AMC

...which is, I guess, when Sound Guy realizes Jimmy hasn't spent enough time in services to learn what various churchy words mean. Suzanne and "Pastor Hansford" are about to end the call when he asks whether there's a date for Huell's trial. She says there isn't, so he asks her to contact him when there is: "We got a couple of charter buses. Gonna bring the whole congregation up to y'all in Albuquerque." Suzanne wilts in resignation. Jimmy hangs up. The crew is in awe. Suzanne realizes she's fucked.

Jimmy then takes a moment to regard the desk full of silent phones. "Is it over?" asks Make-Up Girl. Jimmy tells them he's going to take the church phone with him in case Suzanne calls back. If any others ring, they should pick up every third caller, and talk no longer than thirty seconds per call. Camera Guy tries to weasel out of staying, but Jimmy, already literally half out the door, says they're paid for the day, so they'll stay until he tells them to go.

Jimmy, peering through the glass in the door, finds Kim in a courtroom, conferring with opposing counsel. We can only see her from the back, but Suzanne's body language -- hands on hips; chest in high dudgeon -- is tense and angry, whereas Kim leans back casually against the judge's bench, arms spread wide. Suzanne then tents her fingers on her table and hangs her head in defeat.

Jimmy's down the hall tapping his sneaker when Kim emerges from the courtroom and looks both ways before spotting him. Without speaking, she strides purposefully past the bench he's sitting on and into the stairwell, Jimmy following close behind. When they're alone and Kim's basically slammed the door, Jimmy seems to think things must have taken a turn after he stopped watching and anxiously asks, "Well?"

AMC

In response, Kim takes a breath, then chucks her briefcase onto the floor, shoves Jimmy against the wall, and kisses him voraciously. Let this be a lesson to us all: doing crimes makes you sexy.

Then the camera's panning up slowly from the foot of Kim and Jimmy's bed as we hear her suggest, "Do it one more time?" "Are you sure you can take it?" Jimmy flirts back. "I can if you can," she replies. "All right, you asked for it," Jimmy sing-songs...and then breaks into his Pastor Hansford character: "Hello dere! Look in your heart, chère, and find forgiveness! Let us take you on a trip down Naaaaaawlins way, where dey put a little extra roux in de gumbo!" Kim giggles that it's like she's in the bayou, to which "Pastor Hansford" replies that he's got crawdads in his pants. Kim cracks up, and then settles with her chin on Jimmy's chest, telling him the phones were genius. Jimmy says the phones were "a touch": "This was all you, start to finish. Bank shot off the judge. Four months probation, time served, is like watching Roy Hobbs smash out stadium lights." Kim modestly says that Suzanne overplayed her hand, then looks over Jimmy's shoulder at the clock radio and realizes she has to start getting ready for work. First, though, she asks what he's up to today; he tells her he's going to check out another office by the courthouse. Kim says she thought he'd found one, but he evasively says it was too big for him. Jimmy asks if she'll be working late, and she says she will, since she has work to catch up on post-Huell. Kim then decides she's dawdled enough and gets out of bed, turning on the shower. Jimmy remains in bed, looking thoughtfully at the space Kim's left next to him.

I really wish we'd gone from this scene back to the nail salon, Jimmy's camera crew having slept there after he forgot to release them because he was too busy fuckin', but no: we're in a conference room at Kim's office. Paige is droning on about boring bank shit while the camera stays on Kim and the quiet smile that plays across her lips as, obviously, she daydreams about the fun she had keeping Huell out of jail. When Paige gets to the end of her monologue, Kim blandly offers, "Sounds good," before resuming paying actual attention, saying they should talk about the Wyoming branch Mesa Verde wants to open in six months. Kevin passive-aggressively clears his throat, forcing Kim to ask if he has something else he'd like to discuss. He claims not to want to slow things down, particularly not with something he knows Paige doesn't want him to raise. Paige and Kim exchange a brief look before Kim's like, spit it out, so Kevin says that the Tucumcari branch is doing great, and it's probably because the design of the building is so distinctive, so even though Paige has already said it's impossible, wouldn't it be great if they could do something like that with the Lubbock branch? "I reminded Kevin that Tucumcari has a much larger footprint than the current Lubbock design, and that design is the one we've been hanging our estimates on," says Paige tightly, clearly afraid Kim is going to go back to her old ways of trying to impress Kevin by...working herself nearly to death. Kevin, of course, is hoping the opposite, and presses his point despite Paige's concerns. But no longer is Kim getting her adrenaline fix by doing anything in the financial sector, so she barely pauses before telling Kevin she's sorry, but that she agrees with Paige that starting over now would put them behind schedule. Kevin accepts Kim's judgment and admits that Paige was right this time. On to Wyoming! Kim is SUPER-PSYCHED jk she is about to slip into a coma.

Back in her office, Kim reaches into the top drawer of her desk, produces the souvenir Zafiro Añejo bottle topper, and contemplates it. Is she so pragmatic? Or would she rather do more sexy crimes???

Then we're under the laundry, where Mike is giving Gus a progress report, starting with the accident that happened in "Something Stupid" and how long it's going to delay the project -- less than a week, it sounds like. However, there's a gigantic rock where the elevator shaft is supposed to go, which will require blasting, adding another week on top of that. To summarize: "Best estimate, we're a little past the halfway point, way behind schedule. But the work is solid." Gus stares for a while, then asks about Ziegler. Mike takes a loud breath and says, "I gave him the come-to-Jesus. He screwed up, he knows it. Said it won't happen again." "And what do you say?" asks Gus. "I've got eyes on him," Mike replies, before adding the judgment that I am guessing he will be forced to regret and retract by the end of the season: "But yeah, he's good." "Good," Gus nods. ZIEGLER FOR GOD'S SAKE PLEASE DO NOT LET MIKE DOWN.

Then the camera's behind a hole with irregular edges as something drips past on the other side. Presently, Jimmy's squatting down to inspect it and asking, "Is that water?" The bungalow in "Something Stupid" was no great shakes, but now he's in an even less charming space: a long rectangle with grubby tile, fallen drop ceiling panels, and glass walls on two sides, several panes of which seem to have been waiting a while to be replaced. But back to the water damage: the realtor showing the property claims, "The landlord will kick in for small repairs like that," adding, "They already took care of the rodent problem." I'm going to go ahead and say this guy's not counting on closing a deal today? Jimmy, of course, isn't thrilled to hear there ever was a rodent problem, but the realtor shrugs that Jimmy specified "small and near court," both of which requirements this dump satisfies: "And it's in your price range." As he urges Jimmy to "use [his] imagination," Kim appears outside and knocks on the door; Jimmy excuses himself.

AMC

Okay, don't think less of me but I kind of like it from the outside??? Obviously, it could use some cosmetic updates, but the '70s Space Age-iness of it is pleasing to me. Anyway, Kim's leaning against a piece of pressed wood in place of a glass pane and smoking when Jimmy comes out, and asks him, "Is this your new office?" Jimmy, embarrassed, says it's a contender, and asks what she's doing there. "I was driving, saw your Esteem in the parking lot," says Kim. Ah, Jimmy's esteem. Look somewhere dodgy and you're sure to find it! Jimmy removes the cigarette from Kim's mouth to take a drag himself, and asks her what's up. "Nothing," says Kim, surveying the landscape. "Just driving around, thinking about things." Jimmy guesses at what that means, and starts doing a version of what Mrs. Nguyen had recommended: "I know what's on your mind. The thing that we did, I mean, it was nuts. And I dumped it in your lap. Ex parte communication, contempt of court, we're talking about a couple hundred counts of mail fraud -- I could've wrecked you at Schweikart, I could've boned me too. I mean, I'm this close to being reinstated. I mean, come on!" Kim doesn't answer, nodding as she keeps her eyes on the horizon. Jimmy hands her back the cigarette, telling her, "Don't worry. No one's going to know about it. Be like it never happened. And also, I agree, we are totally done with all that. Over and out, no more." Kim blinks, exhales her latest drag, then fixes her eyes on Jimmy's to let him know he guessed wrong, telling him, "Let's do it again."

AMC

Jimmy is shocked, but Kim is steady. That's the last time Jimmy takes Huell's advice about lawyers. Or ladies. Or...lady lawyers.

As Nacho comes in to start his day at El Michoacano, he's surprised to hear loud music playing inside, and shoots a look at Domingo, already seated at his table...

AMC

...and looking like he shat his pants. Nacho takes a long time silently looking from Domingo to the kitchen, where the radio is blasting, before finally heading back there, sliding a hand back to his weapon just in case. The chef is absently singing along to the music, and Nacho stands in the doorway waiting for him to turn around and notice him -- which, soon, he does, greeting him with a huge smile: "You're here! Right on time." (Throughout the conversation, they switch from Spanish to English and back again, without any significance for either choice that I can discern.) The chef finishes preparing a plate for Nacho, promising he's going to love it: "I made this just for you! Never in your life have you tasted something so delicious, it's true. Wait, wait -- you're gonna die." Okay, on the page that looks bad, but other than, you know, where he is, there's no menace to this guy: he just seems really easygoing and friendly. Also, not for nothing, hot. Still, Nacho makes a pissface and declines the proffered plate. The chef leans his face in, takes a big sniff, and, grinning, encourages Nacho, "Smell it! You can't say no, are you crazy?" Nacho doesn't move or speak, so the chef backs off, pleasantly: "Very well. You're not hungry. That's your problem." He sets the plate down, telling Nacho it's a special recipe: "A family secret." Nacho, having come further into the kitchen by now, guesses, "The Salamanca family." The chef excitedly turns around to confirm it: "I am Eduardo, but you can call me Lalo. And you must be Varga, no? They told me you were smart. And look, here you are, and you are." He chuckles as he returns to his pans. Trying to sound unconcerned, Nacho asks what Lalo's doing there. Casually, Lalo replies, "I'm just here to lend a helping hand, you know, make sure the business is running in order. I got a good head for numbers."

AMC

I'd give him a good head for numbers, wait did I type that out loud. "Don't even worry," Lalo assures Nacho. "It's going to be like I'm not even here." With that, Lalo takes his plate out to the floor; as the day's first dealer enters, Lalo calls over his shoulder, "Come on, Varga, let's go!," before settling into the seat right next to Domingo, patting him warmly on the back and, presumably, giving him the delicious dish Nacho declined.

AMC

Maybe Nacho should go to Winnipeg. I guarantee no Salamanca would follow him there, nor would literally anybody else.

Also Available As Part Of The Epic Old-School Recaps Podcast

Source: http://previously.tv/better-call-saul/better-call-saul-rediscovers-the-lost-art-of-letter-writing/

[clubnosferatu]

The Beginning #2

Anna

Dmitri was different than what I expected; what I heard about him was that he was a terribly attractive man with an even more terrible sense of humor that couldn’t compete with his cruelty. By what I saw, the rumors about his relationship with Honor weren’t lying when they said that he has suffered a drastic change; what I witnessed was an old vampire more than ready to die, that seems to fight back the darkness that squeezes his throat. I also saw his instincts told him to run in some of our interactions and I fuck my life, if I’m proud of something is my ability to hide my true strength and brutality, unfortunately, Dmitri seems to be a damn radar of ultimate generation to detect my true nature.

I turn around in bed and check the time on the alarm clock. I hate it when I wake up before the alarm goes off because I get angry thinking about unnecessary stuff like for example from who has Dmitri get those expressive eyes with such a rich chocolate color o why he has a mole just in the end of his left brow. Many questions that I shouldn’t even question myself and here we are, waiting for the alarm to go off so that I can feign a routine that I’ve created for myself because if there’s something that truly scares me is get bored like the rest of immortals. Many of them say that I’m still too human and they say it with despise, they don’t remember that once all of us were human?

The alarm goes off and I check the bird feeder that I installed in the balcony, looks like there are many hummingbirds in the area. I roll towards the border of the bed and get up to take a shower, let’s get started with the routine. First I clean well after a night of playing to Just Dance because I love to be silly, then breakfast. Today I have toast with Nutella, espresso and a piece of walnut and cream cake; yes, the fact that I cannot gain weight allows me to eat anything I want and more. Of course, after all of this I prepare a smoothie with frozen blood, it’s not the best nutritional option but I’m sick of drinking hot blood every morning, it bores me. I have breakfast calmly and appreciate the different flavors, after drinking the smoothie I put on some clothes having in mind what I’ll do later. Today I haven’t got anything planned so I suppose that I’ll go to the library and maybe watch a movie; there aren’t reunions important enough with the Guild to steal more than one hour of my life.

Sighing because I despise meeting up with Sarah, I decided to go for dark jeans along with a white t-shirt form the band Alt-j and a black leather jacket. I put on my black boots and grab the very worn messenger bag where I carry from weapons to gum and hair ties. I check my phone and I’m surprised to see a message from an unknown number. I take the elevator and open the message.

<I don’t really want to know what are you made of in the middle of what surely become a headache. Do you want to go to the shooting range of the Tower? DMITRI>

I smile and create a new contact before answering.

<It will be a pleasure make you bite the dust. There at 8 p.m>

I don’t wait for his answer, I put my phone in my jacket pocket and near my orange KTM. I adjust the messenger bag and leave the garage without a helmet, I have to be very drugged or drunk to have an accident and even then it wouldn’t mean nothing too permanent. The streets have fluid traffic so I reach the Guild before what I expected. One of the many hunters nears me and tells me that they are waiting for me. I suppress the urge to roll my eyes due to his cleverness as if I like to speak with idiots that only want guns.

I follow the guy with a stick up his arse from who I smell sexual desire from kilometers away and step on the elevator. The ding means my gateway, I pass the hunter and knock on Sarah’s door; we are greeted together and I take a seat next to the same hunter with whom I spoke yesterday.

- Jacob was finishing speaking about the new weapons. Apparently, they are too heavy to carry them in long hunts-I open my bag and put on the table the dagger that Jacob rejected-

- The blade is attachable and it can be pick up through the magnetization of the blade pressing the only protuberance of the handle. Jacob thought it would only be using the guns but he didn’t let me explain that the weapon he grabbed without permission was designed for vampires and not humans. As you know, I don’t work exclusively for the Guild; Rafael and Galen are my usual clients- Jacob has the decency of gulp ashamed-

- It seems you continue to think without your brain, Jacob-Sarah sighs tired- and you are still not honest, Anna-I shrug-

- I don’t have to be, I usually think that I make business with professional and not kids wanting to check out who has the biggest toy-Jacob looks at me furious and I look at him not giving a damn- do you have a problem with what I said, Jacob?- his left-hand goes for the dagger that’s in his jacket pocket, but I grab his elbow before he’s even able to graze it- If I were you I wouldn’t do that.

- Jacob, for the love of god - Sarah rubs her nose when another hunter enters the room, the one that usually buys weapons from me, Ashwini-

- Sarah, they need you now in the conference room. Seems like Rafael wants to speak with you- I release Jacob’s elbow and get up-

- We’ll talk about this another moment. Ashwini- I smile and left the room-

It is time to go to the library and finish The Quixote, it has something that makes it atemporal and a genuinely great book. I say hi to the librarian and go to one of the reading rooms to continue experiencing the z¡crazy adventures of Don Quixote.

I finished the book a little bit after four p.m. I’m hungry. I go home and make a big ration of fried blood that I enjoy like a little kid, I accompany it with an ice cream terrine of vanilla with caramel and macadamia nuts. One call makes me leave the kitchen annoyed, I don’t like to be disturbed when eating. I check who is calling and I frown surprised when I read “DMITRI”.

- Anna- I hear gunshots and check the clock- do you wanna move forward our date?

- It’s not a date but yeah, I’ve finished a reunion earlier than expected and I want to check out if you are as good as the rumors say- I smile menacingly-

- This is not a duel medieval ages style-he laughs and I grab my keys from the front door-

- If this was a duel it would be at least interesting- he hangs up on me and I look indignantly the phone. This man is very stupid-

I park in the Tower and go directly to the shooting range. The moment I enter the room where the munition is kept, I see Dmitri in casual clothes and sincerely, I think I lose my panties until he looks at me with disdain, then a chastity belt has appeared alongside a bottle of belladonna.

- I see that people aren’t wrong when they say you are smug- Dmitri raises a silent brow-

- Aren’t you speaking for yourself?- I grab one of the guns and a box of bullets-

- I don’t have problems to speak to other people or to understand when enough is enough- this makes him stop for a second before turning around to prepare his gun-

- I was thinking about doing this with knives but if you prefer guns, then so be it-the dummies appear and I ignore my surroundings. I concentrate on my breathing and let everything flow-

Dmitri after that insists on using knives because with guns we are pretty similar. I check the maneuvering of the knife to then throw it softly to the dummy who has his head pierce through easily. Dmitri pierces through his mouth so I go for the balls, to what he responds going for the heart.

- Do you see me now worthy of your time?- I turn around and find him looking at me with something that in any other case I would understand as lust, however, I think is something more related to another type of attraction-

- I didn’t know there were people so capable wasted away in infiltration missions- I smile and tilt my head-

- You never attend reunions about abroad missions, if you went you would know that I’m better than what you think- I leave the shooting booth behind and check my phone. No calls from Sarah-

- There’s another reason to make me want to see you-I look at him with a raised brow- Rafael basically has asked us to investigate the territory and more important cities. Then, we can create whatever alibi we want- I nod-

- Fiances are easy, get some rings and that’s it. Quick and easy-Dmitri flinches at this possibility but is the best one we got-

- I’ll get the rings- says almost growling-

- There’s no need to be so happy about feigning being my fiancé, at this rate you’re going to make fall in love with you- he rolls his eyes and I laugh- is there any date to when we have to leave?-Dmitri sighs-

- Rafael hasn’t told me anything, but I think we will have a reunion soon to speak about the details-I tilt my head and smile-

- Hey, if we are going to feign being engaged, the least we can do is get to know the minimum from the other so we can lie, don’t you think? I’m not as irritating as you think, yesterday you got on my nerves, that’s all- he looks at me blankly, I don’t know what he’s thinking-

- No stingy bars-I sigh-

- No stingy bars- he nods solemnly and I have to suppress the loud laugh that is climbing my throat. For an instant, I’ve seen a five-year-old kid completely proud of getting what he wanted-

Obviously, I wasn't planning on going to a stingy bar but the fact that we are near one of my favorites cake shops in the city makes choosing easy. As we enter the shop we attract people’s eyes, something normal when you reach a certain age in the vampires world. If I have to say it somehow because we feed on blood I suppose that with time we became more and more attractive to humans and that’s why I think some of them look dazzled when they see us. Especially humans that have never seen a vampire, that are the ones that react more strongly.

We sat down in one of the tables to the back of the local, this way we can see the whole shop plus being next to a window. Dmitri looks through the menu with a blank expression while I know exactly what to get; I would be surprised to see him eat anything. When the waiter near us, Dmitri asks for black coffee and I ask for a piece of cheesecake and red tea. He leaves after getting us our order and I notice Dmitri eyes on me.

- What?- I take a piece of cake without looking at him-

- A vampire eating cake, I thought that only the newborn did that due to nostalgia-I shrug and bite the fork-

- I like to eat, what do you want me to say. I’ve lived many years eating boiled animals, plants, fungus ignoring the many possibilities that they could be poisonous- Dmitri takes a sip from his coffee-

- I still don’t understand it, it’s unnecessary- I smile-

- Living for thousands of years in unnecessary, Dmitri. Don’t say that kind of things, I didn’t take you for a philosopher- Dmitri leaves the cup on the table-

- If you want us to get to know each other you have to leave aside your preconceived ideas aside, Anna- I wink at him which makes him look at me surprised-

- I hope you take your own advice. Okay, where do you want to begin?- Dmitri looks at the coffee thoughtful before smiling softly and looking at me with irony-

- What is your favorite color?-I tilt my head and can’t help but laugh-

- Yellow, my favorite flowers are sunflowers- Dmitri nods-

- My favorite color is possibly lilac because my favorite flowers are the lilacs-I smile and an image appears in my mind-

- Then I’m not wrong when I say you have at least a lilac tie or shirt- Dmitri doesn’t answer me but I can feel that I’m right-

- Are you a natural redhead?- I nod-

- Yes, my mother was a redhead and between women, it’s usual to inherit this kind of things- Dmitri nods and takes another sip of his coffee. I have already eaten half of the cake- Do you have tattoos?- Dmitri nods-

- Every one of the Seven has tattoos to show loyalty to Rafael- I nod remembering-

- Yes, yes. The famous tattoos of the Seven- I click my tongue- I hate to ask things I already know- Dmitri laughs-

- I hate when I have to explain the same thing twice or repeat a conversation- I roll my eyes-

- No one would say you are an honest person- Dmitri smiles slightly and finishes his coffee. I finished my cake and grab the teacup while it’s still hot- When were you converted?- Dmitri seems to lose himself in his head for a good couple of minute with a blank face and his eyes seem completely black-

- A thousand and eighteen years ago- I blink and study his face-

- I understand by your face that it wasn’t something you wanted to remember, I’m sorry- Dmitri makes a gesture with the hand that I don’t understand but he doesn’t seem any tenser than before-

- When were you converted?- he looks at my eyes and I know my face can’t be that different from his-

- Two thousand and eighteen years ago- this makes him blink before tilting his head and frowning-

- In the 800?-I nod-

- I’m older than you, that is a real surprise. I thought we were more matched- Dmitri makes a neutral sound and sighs-

- Then the tattoo on your arm is something related with Vikings like the braid you had the other day- I can’t help but smile due to the disdain that drips from his voice-

- Yes, I have protection and strength runes in my arms. I’ve always been a warrior, maybe we can use that as the middle ground between us- Dmitri sighs as I wait for some kind of answer-

- When is your birthday?- I lean on the back of the chair-

- November -I point at him with my chin and he imitates my pose-

- May- I smile-

- Do you have any other hobbies besides women, alcohol, and weapons?- Dmitri rolls his eyes but he has again a tiny smile in his face-

- I like photography- I nod impressed-

- Photography is one of those things that I like but I’ll never do by myself- Dmitri studies my face before smiling openly-

- Hobbies outside weapons and motors?- I smile-

- I like to write poetry- Dmitri raises a brow impressed- writing is more or less one of the only things that entertain me nowadays- the waiter picks ups everything and I ask for another piece of cake-

- I suppose that if you eat you also cook- I nod and I can feel the engines in Dmitri’s head move silently- I would like to try out what are you capable of cooking- I look at him surprised before smiling once again-

- Be careful, don’t you fall in love with my culinary skills.

We decided to meet up again after the next reunion with Rafael so I can show him what I can cook. I didn’t expect that something like that left his lips but, I guess I don’t have a lot to base on; Dmitri has never been a talkative man.

The sun goes down while I drive to my apartment. Nights on the city are a big excuse to visit pubs or clubs and every vampire with a certain level goes to Erotique; the problem is that for me, is more like a business trip than going to a club to relax a bit. I reject the idea of going to Erotique and decide to go instead to Valhalla, a pretty similar pub but with a lot fewer people that I know because is full of angels. I like to go because I usually cross paths with Illium and speaking with him is always interesting.

Today’s not an exception and as always that we meet, he comments my looks with ease, the same ease you would speak about the fur with which you plan to make another coat. Tonight I put on a dark green short dress with a big cleavage and covered in sequins, paired with simple black stilettos that are tied up until the mid-thigh.

- I see you continue to use green to make pop up your hair color- I smile and look at his light blue shirt and the dark jeans-

- I could say the same about you and your eyes; I’m still waiting for a night where you don’t want to make them stand out- I obtain a pretty smile from the blue-winged angel and he offers me a hand-

- Care to dance?- I roll my eyes and accept the offer-

- Only if you suppress the urge to use me for the same purpose as the many other women that have been in your bed.

Obviously, I don’t have anything going on with Illium, to put it simply, we dance to gain attention and then choose a victim. Today I chose a man around that looks around his thirties, green eyes and incredible grey wings. Normally I stay away within vampires, but some angles have something so hollow and false that I have to take them to bed and figure out what are the made of.

This one, in particular, is a lot more brusque than what his appearance might lead you to think. Which isn’t a problem for me, I appreciate tenderness as much as roughness. I like to have a little bit of everything in my life. Once we end up fucking, I dress up, kiss him and left his apartment. I fancy a shower in my flat and sleep, tomorrow I don’t have an appointment and it’s not like somebody will yell at me for being irresponsible.