#From a first glance the descriptions fit perfectly but as I read more in depth it. Didn't quite fit

[shanedoesdoodles]

You ever look for a specific word/thing to describe a feeling you're having and think you've found it but as you look more into it it turns out it was a simular concept but very distinct from what you were looking for? And then when you try to be more specific everything that pulls up is still the same close but definitely not the same thing to describe it? I'm a stuck in a bit of a loop at the moment

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

A Fool of Me

A/N: Hey guys! This one’s a request from @peachylemasters​. I hope I did it justice, I had to tweak some details to fit the plot but I think I hit all the notes. If you like this and wanna read some more of my stuff check out my Masterlist, or my series, I’m On Fire.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Spencer runs into a toxic ex-girlfriend at an event a kind receptionist saves him from himself.

Category: Equal doses of smut, angst, and fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, unprotected sex, semi-rough sex, spanking, alcohol consumption, brief descriptions of panic/stress, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 4.7k 

Request: “Hey good morning or afternoon I heard you were taking requests. I thought of an idea we're Spencer Reid goes to a party and meets his ex. Things start off smooth and knows if he goes back to her, he will revisited bad and the good moments he had with her. Until a hostess see's Spencer going insane because he's talking to his ex. She helps him out and they start to know each other. Things get out of hands between them. So that was an idea. Don't know if I made it confusing. Have a great day✨❤”

   Spencer had had enough socializing for one day. It was enough that he had to attend panels all day, which really, he didn’t mind that part. He just hated having all the conversations afterward.

So his battery was really draining by the time the post-convention event was supposed to take place in the hotel’s ballroom. It was supposed to be a time for all of the people who’d spent the whole weekend working to finally blow off some steam. Have some non-work related conversations.

But Spencer hated parties. He didn’t like being surrounded by so many people, or having to have the same little nothing conversations over and over all evening. At least he was put up in a hotel this time around so he could retreat to the quiet of his room for a little while in the middle of the day, but that could only last so long.

She’s the very first thing he notices as he walks through the doors to the ballroom. Rachel. Perched on a high stool at the bar, hair cascading down her back, in perfect contrast to her dress. It was red and hugged her perfectly, like it always did. He’d seen her in it before a few times, he knew it made her feel confident.

He has no idea if he wants to talk to her, part of him wants to race over and give her his room key without a word. The other wants to turn on his heel immediately and bolt out of there. But he doesn't get to make the decision, she’s spotted him in the doorway and is more sure of herself. Beckoning him over with a wave.

He takes the stool next to her, and already he doesn’t feel great about it. She had this way of bewitching him, over and over he’d end up lying next to her in bed and waking up to an empty space in the morning. They couldn’t seem to keep their distance for very long.

When he sits she’s already ordered him a drink, and it’s his usual, and he hates that she remembered it. Or he hates that he likes the way it makes him feel warm inside. That it wasn’t just him who held onto some of their shared memories. So he takes a sip.

—

It’s been a slow night on the reception desk, so when Y/N sees him walking down the staircase into the lobby she can’t help but gawk. His suit is navy and impeccable, it fits him so snug on the shoulders that it must’ve been made for him. Which is a funny juxtaposition next to his hair which looks like he ran his fingers through it at best, curly, and unruly on top of his head. But it suits him.

She follows him with her eyes from her perch at the desk, watching him until he stops abruptly at the doorway to the ballroom. There’s a swarm of people gathered inside so maybe he was just the kind of person who was nervous around crowds. But that doesn’t feel right, the look on his face is all together terrified until it softens and he walks inside.

She has to move along the desk a little so she can see where he ends up once he makes it inside. And of course he’s next to a woman, a beautiful one too, in a tight dress. So that solves the mystery of why he looked so nervous. But that does little to actually satiate her desire to keep her eyes on him. On them.

Something doesn’t feel right about it, as thought it might not even be a date, like maybe this guy really didn’t want to be there. It must’ve been the way he looked at her, or the way he sat so awkwardly in his seat, his body language betraying him.

—

Spencer lets himself take her in for a moment, his eyes raking up and down her figure as she takes a prolonged sip from her wine glass. She might actually look better than the last time he’d seen her.

It had been a whole year. And they’d already been broken up, and back together, and broken up a few times over at that point. So it really was his fault that it happened again, they’d slept together, and she’d promised him more, and left him again. Like always.

He knew, he really did, deep down he knew she was bad for him. But she was magnetic.

“Do you like my dress Spence?” she asks, sultry and smooth. And she already knows he does, he’s told her before.

“You look very nice” he tries not to give too much away.

“I seem to recall you thinking I looked a hell of a lot more than nice in this dress?” she leans in a little as she speaks and it makes his heart flutter in his chest. But it somehow makes his stomach drop in the same instant. She turns her body towards his completely. Leaning in even closer now, and she puts her hand on his fucking thigh, and for a second he forgets how to breathe entirely.

“As a matter of fact” she coos, “I think I remember you telling me to keep it on while you fucked me, what was it, a year ago now?”

“372 days” is all he can force out. And he wants to lean into her touch, he wants to melt into her, let her do whatever she wants with him for as long as she wants to. But he knows it’ll just break him all over again. He wants to pull away but he just can’t, and he’s absolutely transfixed on her fingers squeezing his leg when they’re interrupted.

“Sorry, are you Dr. Spencer Reid?” the woman enquires, glancing at his little hand written name tag. He just forces a meek nod, “There’s a call for you if you want to follow me?” she motions for him to stand up and so he does, pulling himself from Rachel’s grip.

His immediate feeling is of overwhelming relief. He knew he was out of his depth from the moment he’d sat down. He was silently thankful for whatever case was about to whisk him away from this stupid convention.

He followed behind the woman, she led him out of the ballroom and down a quiet hotel hallway until she just stopped in her tracks in the middle of it, leaning against the wall. He could only look at her confused.

“The uh? The phone?” he tries to ask.

“Sorry,” she forces out a deep breath, “there actually wasn’t any call, I could tell— you looked like you needed some help?” she chances, “I’m really sorry if I overstepped, or misread that”

He lets out a huge sigh of relief, “Oh thank god”

“So I read it right?” she asks, relaxing against the wall now.

“So so right, you’ve got no idea” the relief only lasts for another moment before his eyes blow wide and he starts to pace frantically in the hallway.

“Dr. Reid? Are you okay? What’s going on?” she asks, trying to decipher his sharp change in mood. He starts to breathe in short panicked bursts and he seems like he’s really about to freak out again. She ushers him to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs that litters the hallway. So he does, and he immediately braces his head between his knees.

“Can I ask what’s wrong? Do you want me to get you some water?” He just shakes his head, his breathing unsteady and ragged, she recognizes it well.

“Spencer” She says it firm and commanding to get his attention, but soft enough not to startle him, “I want you to breathe in through your nose for me, we’re gonna do that for 4 seconds” she counts down for him, “now hold that breath for 7 seconds” she counts again, soft and slow, “then I want you to breathe all of that out through your mouth this time, and we’re gonna do that for 8 seconds.” He sits up straight and nods at her.

She counts out the cycle for him again and again until Spencer can feel his heart rate fall, settling into a steady rhythm of breathing until he feels calm again. And in this state he can finally take a good look at this girl. She’s crouched down next to him as he sits, with one of her hands resting against his knee. And instead of earlier, her hand feels comforting, grounding. It feels nice in an entirely different way than Rachel’s hand.

He looks down at the little gold name tag pinned to the lapel of her dress.

“Thank you Y/N” he says softly, and she smiles up at him.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” she tries again, gentle, not prying, just hoping.

“I left my jacket in there” he rubs his eyes with his hands like he’s in pain, “It’s got my phone and my wallet, but I can’t go back in there. If I go back she’ll suck me in again and I don’t want— I can’t!” she tries to soothe him, gently moving her hand along his leg.

“Don’t worry about that” she encourages, “Have you got your room key?” He quickly fumbles and pulls it out of the pocket of his slacks, and nods, awaiting further instruction.

“What room are you in?”

“407?”

“Great, you go on up, splash some cold water on your face and relax. I’m going to go get your stuff. I’ll tell that woman that you had an emergency and had to leave. Then I can can bring your jacket up to you. No problem” she says it like it’s obvious, and Spencer can barely contain his relief, all of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Are you sure?” he asks,

“Positive” she confirms with a soft smile and a pat on his shoulder as she stands up.

—

Once Y/N’s confident he’s making his way back up stairs she heads straight to the ballroom. Now that she’s actually about to talk to this woman she’s nervous.

“Sorry ma’am” she starts, and the woman turns to look at her, and she’s so intimidatingly beautiful up this close, “your friend had an emergency and he’s got to leave. He asked me to send you his apologies.” her perfect face falls, unable to hide her disappointment. Y/N takes his jacket off the back of the chair and drapes it over her arm.

“Can you give him a message for me?” the woman asks, gripping Y/N by the elbow just as she makes her move to leave, she nods politely.

“Just tell him that I’ll get him next time” she says it like it’s some inside joke he’ll understand, but Y/N knows what she means and it honestly makes her feel a little sick. As she walks away she’s already decided she’s not going to tell Spencer anything.

—

Spencer’s been pacing around his room for the last 17 minutes. Y/N shouldn’t be taking this long, he wasn’t entirely sure why but he was getting himself worried again, working himself up over nothing. But his body relaxed when he heard a soft knock against the door, he all but sprinted over to open it. To her standing right there, his jacket draped over one arm and a room service platter gripped in her hands.

“Thank you” he exhales, pulling open the door so that she can could walk inside and leave both items down on the bed. He points to the platter, its contents covered by a large silver dome. “What’s…” he’s not really sure what to ask.

“I hope you don’t mind, I stopped by the kitchen on my way up, thought you might like some comfort food?” as she explains she pulls the dome off the tray, showing him the plethora of desert she’d taken from the kitchen.

“There was no need” he starts but she cuts him off.

“Nonsense! The guys in the kitchen don’t mind. If there’s nothing you like here I can have something else sent up?” she says it in a polished ‘customer service voice’, sickly sweet. And all of a sudden he feels a little silly that he hadn’t noticed it sooner. She was just a good employee, going the extra mile for a customer. This wasn’t about him.

“No, god no. You’ve done plenty already, and besides, I’m sure you’ve got to get back to work?” he tries to give her an out as they stand awkwardly looking at each other.

“Actually I’m good, I wont be missed” she begins but stops her train of thought, of course this was overstepping, she was probably freaking him out, “But you probably want to relax, I’ll get out of your hair” she nods politely and starts to make her way back to the door.

“Unless” it rushes out of him and he's not sure where it really came from, “When your shift’s over would you maybe want to— This is an awful lot of food—“ he just gives up on his original sentence and tries it all over again, “When’s your shift over?” her asks plainly and it startles her. But she can’t really do much to contain the grin that spreads across her cheeks.

“What time is it now?” she asks, pointing to the watch on his wrist.

“Uh, 11:43pm?” he offers.

“So 43 minutes ago” she feels silly saying it out loud now. That she’d gotten carried away watching him while she waited for her co-worker to take over the desk, and she just couldn’t stop herself from intervening the second her shift was over. But he doesn’t look freaked out by her admission, he looks genuinely happy for the first time since she’d laid eyes on him.

“You— You’ve been off this whole time?”

She gives him a little nod, bashful, “You looked like you needed help” she shrugs, trying to play it off.

“But I— You should’ve gone home, I would’ve been okay” no sooner does he get the words out than he realizes they’re a blatant lie, “That’s not true” he confesses, “If you’d’ve gone home I’d probably have already made so many stupid decisions by now and I’d be having my heart broken as we speak”

“Would you maybe want me to stay with you for a bit? Just to make sure you don’t go doing anything stupid?” she asks sultry, and it’s the first time she’s overtly flirted all night. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he nods wholeheartedly.

Admittedly he knows that if Y/N stays he’ll probably just make a different kind of stupid mistake, but he can allow himself this one.

“I’d like that a lot”

—

They sit cross legged on his bed for a while, sharing a slice of chocolate cake. Spencer had started trying to explain what his relationship with Rachel had been like but decided against it. She wasn't going to get to ruin any more of this night than she already had. Instead he changes focus in the only way he knows how.

“Did you know that chocolate can actually affect your mood significantly?” he says as she scoops a forkful of cake off the plate between them, “A key chemical in cacao stimulates the brains level of naturally occurring endorphins and increases the production of serotonin?”

She chews thoughtfully for a moment, “So that’s why cake makes me feel so good?” and he giggles, nodding enthusiastically, “Got any more genius?” she asks with a grin.

“Did you know that chocolate contains the amino acid L-arginine which can be an effective natural sex enhancer for both men and women?” he can already feel his face start to flush, why did he start saying this, “It increases nitric oxide and promotes blood flow to the sexual organs” he finishes the thought and feels like crawling in a hole.

She’s got no idea if he’s just passionate about facts and chocolate, or if this is just his version of putting on the moves, but what has she really go to lose here. So she takes the opening.

“You got me.” she says with a coy smile, “That was actually my plan all along, to ply you with chocolate” she scoops some of the chocolate icing from the top of the cake with her fingertip, popping it in-between her lips and sucking it off slowly, deliberately. She looks over at him and his eyes are fixed on her lips and the finger caught between them. When she removes it to talk she feels confident that she’s got his attention now.

“Did it work?” she almost moans it and his breathing pretty much stops.

Working on instinct he moves his body so that he’s right next to her, leaning right in, and he presses his lips to hers. She opens them right away and he can taste the chocolate that’s lingering on her tongue and it’s perfect.

It doesn’t last for long, but when they break apart she picks up the plate between them and places it safely on the nightstand. With the bed clear she sits up on her knees so she can move closer to Spencer, throwing her legs either side of his and straddling his lap. The skirt of her dress hiking up in the process to expose the smooth skin of her thighs.

Spencer’s hands fly straight down to them automatically, digging his nails in and pulling her closer, further up his lap. Her hands end up tangled in that perfectly messy hair of his, making it worse, but even more perfect at the same time.

They stay tangled like that for a while, grinding against one another, mouths moving frantically, hands squeezing, pulling. Desperately seeking contact.

It’s when she can feel him start to get hard beneath her that his mood seems to shift, changing his position so that he can flip her over completely. Laying her flat on her back on the bed, one of his hands pinning both of hers above her head as his other hand moves up the hem of her skirt. Inching further and further until he reached her panties, grazing the damp patch between her thighs.

“Fuck Spencer” she moans out at the contact, encouraging him, and he seems to appreciate it. His mouth attaching to her neck, sucking and biting in an attempt to leave his mark on her.

He lets up a few moments later, releasing her hands mostly so that he could begin to undo the buttons along the front of her dress, taking his time to unfasten each and every one of them so that it would fall open, exposing her to him.

“You’re so beautiful” he moans out, his hands starting to roam along all bare skin he could see. And she could feel every little touch, but she needed to see him, to touch him too. So she sat up as best as she could and began to undo the buttons of Spencer’s dress shirt. With his help they were both lying on the bed together in nothing but their underwear. Lips ferociously working against one another yet again.

“What do you like Spencer?” it comes out as a breathy moan when she can finally remove her lips from his for a second, “What do you want?”

He’s caught of guard by the question, Rachel never cared what he wanted. He looks down at her, the erratic rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips were slick and a little swollen, and the pure kindness behind her eyes. For a second he thought he might be in love already, but he knew that was silly. He had to think for a moment before he found the answer.

“Control” it escapes him before he realizes why. He’s never had it before, not in his love life, not in his sex life. But now, now he feels safe enough to ask.

“You want to be in charge?” she asks and he nods his head in confirmation.

“Okay” she smiles, “So tell me what to do” her eyes lock on his and he swears he can feel his heartbeat all over his entire body.

“Turn over” is the first thing he thinks of, and so she does.

Flipping over beneath him, her face tilted sideways so he can still see her as she lays on her front on top of the crisp white linen. He plants a soft kiss at the base of her neck and slowly snakes down along her spine, coming to a stop around her hips. He places his hands either side of her, gripping her hips with probably more force than necessary.

“Up” it’s just shy of a growl, and she complies, lifting her hips up off the bed, bending her knees beneath her. “No” he breathes out against her ear, “Just your hips” she adjusts her position a little and can hold it just long enough for him to slide one of the fluffy hotel pillows into the gap between her and the bed. Tilting her hips ever so slightly. “Perfect” he groans right against her ear.

He continues to move back down her body, once he reaches the swell of her ass this time though he grabs it roughly, his nails scratching the delicate skin as he paws at her. She can’t keep her moan contained as it rushes out of her.

“You like that?” he asks, his voice absolutely dripping with lust.

“Uh huh” she whines into the pillows. He takes that as a sign of encouragement, taking his hand off her before coming down swiftly on her ass cheek, she could feel the heat of it right away, the sharp sting of pain it left behind felt way better than it had any right to.

“Ah fuck” her moan rips through her without warning, so he does it again, a little harsher this time. And the noise echos throughout the room, followed by the filthiest moan Spencer’s ever heard in his life. It gets a little muffled in the pillows but he can still hear it.

“Harder” she lets out, and it’s such a small little voice.

“What was that Y/N?” he teases, leaning over her grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her face out of the pillows with it.

“Ah, harder, please” she begs this time and it makes him feel so, so good.

He returns to his position behind her again, raising his palm and letting it come down again in the exact same place where a raised handprint was starting to form already. The noises that escape her are pornographic and he had no idea his cock could even be this hard.

He takes some time to remove her panties, hooking his fingers into them on either side and peeling them down along her legs. The first thing he sees is how incredibly wet she is, dripping down the inside of her legs already.

“Oh you really liked that” he teases, “You’re fucking soaking wet from just a little spanking” she whines beneath him.

“Want you so bad” is all she can manage to say. He moves her legs a little further apart fully opening her up to him and he bites his lip at the picture in front of him. Taking two of his fingers he brings them right to her entrance, sinking them in slowly, curving them against her walls as he works in and out of her at an agonizing pace.

“Fuck, Spencer, oh my god” her breathing is frantic already as she squirms from the stimulation.

“Good girl, you think you’re ready to take my cock?” he asks, pushing in a third finger as deep at they’ll go, her back arches into his touch, forcing her ass further up against him.

“Yes, Spencer! Please!” she rasps as he drifts his thumb over her swollen clit.

“Okay baby” he pulls his fingers out of her, leaning forward again he brings his fingers up to her, and hooks them into her mouth, pulling her face up out of the pillows so he can hear her little whines. She sucks on the fingers in her mouth, tasting herself on them and at the same time she can feel Spencer’s cock pressed up against her ass.

Once she lets his fingers go he’s bracing himself above her, an arm either side of her torso, and his legs between hers. He takes some time to line up properly, before teasing at her entrance. When she’s practically begging beneath him he sinks in slowly.

“Spencer” she moans out uncontrollably. He’s not even fully inside of her yet and already she feels full.

“So fucking tight, so wet for me Y/N” he gasps, the feeling of her warm and clenching around him is almost too much. After she’s gotten used to the feeling of him he starts to pick up the pace, each thrust deep and deliberate, hitting right against her walls every single time.

She’s nearly crying at the stimulation, getting fucked into the bed, his cock pushing into her impossibly deep each time, hitting spots she didn’t even know she had. And there’s the added pleasure of the way his hips slam right up against her bruised ass each time he thrusts into her that just makes it all the sweeter.

She can tell he’s getting close now, by the way his movements are growing faster and a little less controlled by the second. But she wasn’t far off either, she couldn’t take much more.

“So close Spencer, feels so fucking good” she mumbles out.

And then the does the unexpected he changes his position, leaning down closer, so he was nearly flush against her back, almost pinning her down with his weight but not quite. The angle he hits her from now is definitely something new, she’s pretty sure he’s hitting right against her g-spot with every motion and she can’t contain herself now.

“Fuck! Spencer! Gonna cum” she’s pretty much screaming into the pillows and he continues to fuck into her. He’s releasing himself a moment later, his head coming to rest on her shoulder as he spills inside of her. Riding it out for another moment to two.

They stay like that for a little while, collapsed in a heap on top of one another, completely spent. When he does pull out he’s so careful, making sure she’s comfortable, racing to the bathroom to grab a washcloth and whatever lotion the hotel had.

He takes some time to clean her up before any of the mess they’ve made can dry between her legs. Then he takes some of the lotion and smooths it gently on the skin of her backside, taking care not to irritate it. He puts on a fresh pair of briefs and grabs her a t-shirt from his suitcase for her to sleep in, and her heart softens at the gesture.

When they both snuggle up under the covers, completely exhausted, she takes him in her arms, cuddling up to his back and spooning him. He needed to feel in control earlier, but she could tell what he needed now was comfort, safety, and reassurance that she wouldn’t be gone in the morning.

“Spencer?” she whispers against his ear,

“Y/N?” he responds in kind.

“Are you free for breakfast tomorrow?” she asks, and he knows she can’t see it with his back turned but he can’t contain the sleepy smile that he breaks out in. He’s only known this girl for a few hours and she was able to read him like a book.

“Absolutely”

--

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[vannahfanfics]

Dawn and Dusk Part V

Before you read, here’s Part I, Part II, Part III, and Part IV!

Category: Romantic Fluff, Angst

Fandom: Yona of the Dawn

Characters: Soo-Won, Yona

Requested by: @lilc77​ (Tumblr)

Hey, friend! I hope you’re ready for more YonaWon! This is for the first of the batch that you requested for the theme “sexual tension and desire.” I thought it would fit perfectly within my ongoing “Dawn and Dusk” series of oneshots, so I hope you enjoy the latest installment!

The study echoed with gentle flip of pages. Yona sat among the towering tomes, her legs tucked primly underneath her so the thick, leather-bound book could rest on her thighs. Her dawn-colored eyes scoured the printed words carefully, though in the back of her mind, she doubted that a biological survey of Kouka Kingdom’s bird species would prove fruitful in her endeavor. Though she knew nothing would be hidden in the text, she entertained herself for a few moments more with the detailed illustrations of the songbirds and descriptions of their behavior. She got like this from time to time, looking for escape in the useless paragraphs after yet another day of finding nothing. 

Her fingertips skimmed over the inked drawing of a finch, its feathers painted in brilliant watercolor hues. The “sunrise finch,” it was nicknamed, not only for its brilliant red and yellow plumage, but also its propensity to be the first of the indigenous birds to rise. It awoke in the mere minutes before dawn to herald the oncoming sun with sweet tunes of the morning. Yet as the golden sun spilled across the trees, it would fall silent, its beautiful song swallowed up by the dawn chorus of other birds. Brief and fleeting, like the sunrise it worshipped. 

Yona wondered if that was her fate, to be brief and fleeting like the dawn. 

Sighing, she closed the book and replaced it on the shelf. Rather than grab another from the small stack beside her, she sat there a moment, reaching back to massage the flesh of her shoulder. Though soaking in the bath— however brief that was thanks to her surprise encounter with Soo-Won— had improved the strain significantly, she still found it twinging throughout the day. Perhaps I should retire early and give it some rest, she wondered, but looking down at the books next to her, Yona knew that would not happen. She had to keep searching, searching for any clues to the puzzle that existed between herself and Soo-Won. 

She turned to the window, where the moonlight streamed in to bathe the study in white, at least where the soft yellow light of the lantern beside her could not reach. She wondered if there was a bird that also called to the setting sun and rising moon. Did it mourn the loss of the sun, or did it welcome the appearance of the stars and night sky? Perhaps there was no bird at all, but a king’s fanfare is close enough, she supposed. Dusk had ruled this land ever since her father’s death, as the pale moon sat upon the throne, merely reflecting the light of the sun. A false light, but, did that mean it was no less worthy? She wondered that as she gazed at the sliver of moon hanging low in the sky. Dusk, dawn… It was all light, wasn’t it, chasing away the darkness? 

Who am I to truly say which is better? Yona thought with a sigh, looking back down at her lap. She felt her eyes begin to burn with the familiar sensation of salty tears brewing in the ducts. She often got this way when the watchful nights closed in, cast in light only by her flickering lantern. Everything was still so confusing; she knew not what path to take, what she should do for her people. It was maddeningly frustrating. She really only knew one thing these days, and that is that she still loved Soo-Won, achingly so, despite everything that had happened. 

The first tear slipped down her cheek just as the door to the study opened. Yona quickly swept it away with the sleeve of her kimono as Soo-Won walked in, a look of mild surprise on his face. 

“Ah. You’re still here? It’s awfully late.” 

“I could say the same to you,” she said, but not icily. “I wanted to look through another book or so before finishing up for the night. What about you?” she asked as he navigated through the stacks upon stacks of volumes covering the floor and sat at his small desk. He picked up his quill with a tut, uncapping the inkwell and dipping the pointed tip of the writing utensil into the black muck. 

“I have some reports that I have not yet read or signed off on,” he explained, skimming the contents of the first page before scribbling his signature on the bottom. He set it aside for the ink to dry, then began reading the next. 

Yona looked back to her stack of books, knowing that she should pick one up, but her desire to investigate any further had suddenly vanished. She looked back to the shelf, then stood to retrieve the book of bird species. She flipped back to the page about the sunrise finch, then slowly walked over to Soo-Won. He glanced up when she approached, then looked down at the open book in her hands. 

“Soo-Won… Have you ever seen this bird?” She turned it around so he could see the illustration. He studied it for a moment, then nodded. 

“Yes… They actually nest in the palace gardens,” he explained, and looked up when Yona gasped in delight. How had she never known such a gorgeous bird had a home in the plants right outside her window? Well… It wasn’t exactly often that she found herself up before dawn. However, that would soon change. She would wake up first thing tomorrow to catch a glimpse of this bird. 

“Thank you. I’ll leave you to your paperwork,” Yona said, then looked down at the bird and its brilliant sunrise plumage. She wondered if it would be as stunning in person. She was sure it would be. The anticipation brought a smile to her face, and so she replaced the book on the shelf. The sooner she got to sleep, the sooner the dawn would come. 

Soo-Won spoke as she headed to the door. 

“You were crying.” 

She stiffened. He had seen? She’d thought she’d been slick. She could feel his aqua eyes boring into her back, making warmth spread all over her back. His stare beckoned her like a siren call; she was helpless to his song, causing her to turn slowly around to face him. His expression wasn’t judgmental, not that she had expected it to be in the first place— it was sad, or guilty, even. 

He turned in his chair so he could hold his hand out to her. Entranced by that silent magnetic melody, Yona’s body moved of its own accord; she crossed the room to take his outstretched hand. His touch was soft as his fingers moved over hers, giving just the slightest tug to pull Yona until she was standing in front of him. He reached up with his free hand to brush over the tear stains she’d thought she’d scrubbed away, ghosting over the slightly reddened skin with a heartbroken look. 

“How is your shoulder?” Such an innocent question so at odds with the way his fingers skipped down to her shoulder, fingertips inching under her kimono to brush over the skin. She tried not to twitch at the electricity that shot through her nerves. Her body was stunned, electrified by his ministrations, but her tongue seemed to work just fine. 

“It’s better.” 

He didn’t say anything, just tilted his head while continuing to massage the top of her shoulder. Her heart thumped against her chest as her kimono sleeve slipped fully off her shoulder, exposing her upper arm and even the barest hint of the curve of her breast. Soo-Won’s eyes flickered up to hers, inspecting the minute twitches of her fate for discomfort. He didn’t find any, because why would he? By now, he knew the depths of Yona’s feelings, the way she yearned for his touch despite everything that had happened. 

When did his other arm snake around her hips? It had circled around her without her knowing, so she gasped when she felt him pull her forward until she bumped against his knees. He quirked a brow— a silent invitation. She bit down on her lip, debating. 

Would any good come from yielding to her desires? She should focus on ferreting out his plans for her kingdom, not yielding to her more base compulsions. Yet as Soo-Won’s aqua eyes met hers, she felt her inhibitions melting away as easily as that silk had slid off her shoulder. With a breath of his name, she climbed onto his lap, pressing every inch of their bodies together that she could. Soo-Won’s hands pushed into her dawn-colored hair with a reverent sigh, prompting her to crane her head back into his palms. 

He pressed his mouth to the column of her throat in an open-mouthed kiss. He lingered there for several moments, and then murmured against her skin, “I’m sorry. Ever since we met again, I have caused you pain.” 

Yona’s throat bobbed against his lips as she swallowed. Her eyelashes fluttered to fight back the tears, but they came anyway. Soo-Won must have felt the tears dripping down into his hair, because he sat up to press wispy kisses over her ruddying cheeks to catch the salty streams. “My selfishness has caused you pain,” he murmured against her face. “I tried, but… Yona, I love you so…” 

“I know,” Yona said with a shuddering breath. “I know. I love you too, Soo-Won, though it vexes me.” She curled her neck so she could bury her face into his hair. She inhaled deeply, and the scent of him flooded her nose— parchment, rose water, and a crisp coolness she could only characterize as moonlight. She wondered if she smelled like the dawn, spicy and warm? 

Soo-Won kissed the junction of her neck and shoulder, drawing her out of her thoughts. Just as a small bit of lucidity returned to her, he began a path up her neck and over her chin to claim her lips in a steamy, hungry kiss. Yona perched on his lap while his fingers roved up and down her back, leaving sparks in their wake. She tangled her tongue eagerly with his, and he tasted like cool moonlight, too. Her mind clouded over like it was filled with cotton as heat built up within her, like she was a pot filling with steam. 

Just as she felt ready to burst, he pulled away. Cool air rushed through her, chilling the warmth inside of her, and she exhaled shakily. Soo-Won petted her cheek with that sad look on his face again. She still trembled atop him, not sure how to feel. These short, passionate moments between them had become such a regular occurrence that it was hard to feel guilt or shame anymore. 

“Soo-Won,” she murmured, and his fine eyelashes fluttered when he looked up at her. They’d just exchanged some very passionate kisses, but she still blushed when she meekly asked, “Would you… Would you show me the sunrise finch tomorrow morning?” 

He seemed surprised by her question, his eyes going wide. Then, his face relaxed into a sweet smile. 

“I would love to. It has been a while since I’ve seen them myself.” 

When Yona prepared to get off him, his hands tightened around her hips. 

“Stay?” he asked, quietly, pleadingly. Yona tensed at first, then slowly relaxed when she saw the way he was staring down at his desk— so sadly, so miserably. Yona knew she ought not to, but she draped herself over him anyway, nestling her head on his shoulder. He held her against him with one arm while he turned to resume tending to his documents. Yona closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of his chest rising and falling against hers, his heartbeat thumping against her sternum. It didn’t take long for hers to synchronize with his. Lulled by the melody of their tandem breaths and heartbeats, Yona found herself drifting into a comfortable sleep. The dawn would come eventually, and Yona would have to tend again to her priorities. However, for at least a few sweet hours, she would allow herself to bathe in the cool white light of the dusk— in Soo-Won and his deep, unconditional, heart-wrenching love for her.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[kidney9-9]

Underwater Chapter 1 (Kylo x Reader x Poe)

I do not own this gif, credit goes to the creator.

Hi, this is the first chapter of a new series! Also my first time writing for Poe and Kylo, please enjoy. Taglist is open! Asks/Requests are also open. I will be putting warnings on each chapter. 

Full Masterlist  Series Masterlist

Kylo Ren x Reader x Poe Dameron (Fluff/Angst) Warnings: cursing, descriptions of kissing/sexual activities but not in depth, cocky!Poe, and angry!Ren. Word Count: 1.7K  In future chapters I might be adding actual smut, please let me know what you guys think. I love hearing from y’all :)

The Book

Fucking Poe Dameron was the only thing you desired in life at this point. You already had everything you could ask for, expect for the pilot. You’ve met him before, and it only left you wanting and lusting for him. But what caught your eye now was his lips; they were pulled up into a smirk, watching you drift yourself along the room with such elegance.

You were greeting yourself to other elites in the casino. The job was boring and tiresome to you, and he was the only thing here that deemed your curiosity. His eyes were watching you like a hawk, and it pulled you into his presence fast. The gaze shimmered its way down your dress, eyeing you with more lust now. It pulled you from your duties, and just as you arrived at the corner he was leaning against, he looked back to your eyes.

“And why are you here?” You questioned, arms crossing, not in defense but in interest. Poe tilted his head to the side, still looking at your face, before he pushed himself up from the wall and again eyed you down. His gaze was making you feel warmer now, compared to when you were buttering up the disgusting customers. Poe’s smirk never faltered at your arrival, but instead deepened, and you could tell wherever his thoughts were heading, you would shiver at the slightest mention of it.

Poe never answered your question, but his gaze lingered on you for a few seconds longer and an arm of his drifted up along your exposed back. “You look divine.” He spoke up with confidence. His statement wasn’t wrong. Your sparkling black dress fitted perfectly around your body, pronouncing your curves, dropping low to show some cleavage and it pulled around your feet. Your hair was pulled into a delightful and elegant style, presenting you almost as a princess.

Your facial expression feigned boredom, but inside you felt the small building of hotness pull around in your body. Poe’s hand softly shifted random shapes along your backside, slowly drifting lower. “I’m sure you taste divine too.” He whispered, glancing back to your face, as if to see what you were feeling. You shivered at that moment, your eyes dropping suddenly as you breathed out deeply. You didn’t even know you were holding your breathe.

“What do you want?” You asked, closing your eyes softly memorizing his touch. Something wasn’t sitting right at the back of your head. You knew what he was, and who he aligned with, but it wasn’t bothering you for some reason. Maybe it was because he was fucking hot, but you should have known better. Poe Dameron, the best Resistant pilot, shouldn’t be in your family’s casino. The extravagant place was filled to the brim with First Order representatives, informants, and officers; but it looked like none of them noticed him.

Those sick old fucks were wasting their money away at the tables and machines, not even noticing the exchange between you and the pilot. “You know what I want.” Poe finally answered you, voice low and wavering on desire but you could hear the slight authority in it.

You opened your eyes and copied his actions with tilting your head and leaning away from his hand. The loss of his touch barely bothered you at this point, with the building sexual tension between you too. “I don’t know what you want exactly, why don’t you tell me?” You feigned innocence, lips drooping down into a small pout. Poe grunted back at you, irritated at the game you were trying to play.

“Give me information.” Poe whispered, tugging at your shoulders now pulling you closer to him. No fun. You pouted even more, now pushing your hand up to catch his face. He sighed out as you pressed a soft hand up on the side of his face. “You know what I want.” You mimicked, turning his head to the side as you leaned in and kissed into his neck.

The pilot now tensing up at your gesture of affection, now trying to push his arousal for you away. It wasn’t working though, with the feeling of you breathing on his neck and leaving sloppy kisses. You pulled away, face full of your intentions, as you pulled his face closer to yours. He leaned down fully and captured your lips at once, as you sighed out at the feeling. His lips were rough on yours, and he pushed into your mouth with his tongue, and in an instant, he pulled back.

Groaning at the lost of his lips, you opened your eyes again to see he was staring at you intensely. “Give me the information, and I’ll give you what you want.” He demanded, pushing you back harder, making you stumble slightly on your heels.

You rolled your eyes in response to him. That information he wanted was about every single one of your clients. Most of them were in debt with your family, from losing millions of credits by playing the odds here. Your family sometimes forgave their debts, only to get information of the First Order, or anything that is worth knowing. People end up selling out big secrets, just to get their money back, even though it risked their lives against your family and the First Order. But fuck, were you willing to hand it over to Poe. It didn’t even matter to you; you just wanted him so much. But even then, you really liked playing games and if Poe was so desperate for the information, he should be willing to play.

You walked away slowly, pulling Poe’s arm along with you, as you smirked to the customers who now looked your way. Poe yanked his arm back, but followed right behind you, hiding his face behind the jacket he brought along. If Poe was caught here, there would be no way out of this mess. Taking this mission was a big risk for Poe, but if it meant a win for the Resistance, he would do it.

You walked through a few hallways, as Poe struggled to hide his face away from the drifting eyes in the casino. You led him into your office and watched as he took a seat on the couch, as you closed the door. You hummed out as you sat next to him, glancing as he sighed out loudly.

“Who goes first?” Poe questioned, gazing back to you. The way you kissed his neck flashed back in his mind, as you leaned forward and lightly touched his shoulder again. Your hand crept forward onto his chest, as you spoke out, “I do.”, and the moment you answered, Poe leaned towards you.

He aimed to kiss your lips as your hands drifted lower. When his lips met yours, he breathed out deeply, tugging on your dress to pull you closer to him. You resisted his actions as you placed a hand on his thigh, slowly travelling upwards to his belt.

“Poe,” you sighed out softly, bringing his attention to hear you speak. “If you want information, you’re going to have to earn it.” You said, now grasping his belt and unclipping it roughly. Poe blinked back at you, now understanding your words with a small “Oh.”

Poe Dameron was a player, but you were the fucking creator of this game. You knew exactly how to get what you wanted, or rather needed now, and you were going to enjoy it. Pulling the belt apart, you stand back on your legs and walk to your desk, while Poe sat breathless watching you.

“I didn’t realize sex was all it took to take down the First Order.” Poe replied, now grinning at you as you pulled out a book. You rolled your eyes back to him, it seemed like he was being a little cocky now and sure you liked it but at the same time, you wanted to remind him you were in control.

“Sex, Poe? This isn’t sex.” You spoke out, not looking at him but instead just looking through the small book in your hands. It contained some information of the officers of the First Order, but it was completely useless information. You had many more booklets of this containing actual useful evidence, but you weren’t ready to give it up.

The pilot felt confused at your words, now unsure what to do. He stayed seated on the couch, eyeing the book in your hand as you sat yourself on your knees in front of him. You handed him the book with instructions, “Read aloud, and don’t stop till I’m done.” You placed your hands back onto his thighs, now griping at his pants and tugging.

His breath stalled as you pulled his pants down to his feet, now leaving only his boxers to cover his lower body. You grinned at the nervous expression on his face, now laughing as he started to read. The words were very boring to hear, but his sighs and the way his voice trembled pleased you. Poe felt himself shift around in the seat as you ran a finger under his belly button, underneath his shirt. With one gentle hand, you began to pull at his boxers, slowly teasing him.

And then you heard the gunshots. Immediately, Dameron pulled himself up, trembling as he buckled up his pants again and staring at you. “Next time?” He questioned, now pushing the book into a pocket inside his jacket as you stood up to go view the monitors that observed the casino.

You didn’t bother to answer him, just continued to look at your screens in shock. It was the First Order attacking, and you had a very good reason to suspect why. Groaning out in annoyance, you pointed to your door and Poe gave you a final smirk before running off. It seemed that he escaped already, when you started to leave your office.

The floor was starting to shake now too, as you walked calmly through the halls watching as your employees buzzed about, searching for the exits. Stormtroopers lined the halls, blasters ready in their arms as you walked into the main part of the casino. A tall figure walked into the casino, dressed in all black, and stopped once he saw you.

Igniting his lightsaber, Kylo Ren held it up pointed to you, as you slowly raised your hands in surrender. “Traitor.” He spat out, and even though he was covered by a mask, you knew his face held a certain mixture of venom and disgust.

[fangirlxwritesx67]

Filthy Sweet

Taken By The Wind: A Sam Winchester x Rowena McLeod Love Story

Tags: 18+, sex, explicit sex, oral sex, penetrative sex, consent, size kink. Excessive descriptions of Rowena being gorgeous.

Author’s Note Chapter 1: You Naughty Boy After Chapter 1: Wildfire Chapter 2: Why Thank You Chapter 3: Yes Please After Chapter 3: Hours Chapter 4: Green Velvet Chapter 5: Locked On You Chapter 6: For You, Always After Chapter 6: Whipped Chapter 7: Purple Roses Chapter 8: Heather Interlude: True Chapter 9: Filthy Sweet

Sam x Rowena, 1500 words.  Sam thinks about the things he really loves about Rowena.  Chapter Tags: 18+, sex, smut, oral sex, dirty talking of a sort, language, a little size kink. A/N: My second Sam X Rowena piece inspired by visuals in 14x13. I adore the headcanon of Rowena swearing during sex. @boondoctorwho was reading a chapter for me when she asked, If Sam loves this so much, why doesn’t he tell her? It didn’t fit into that chapter, but here we are. 

Rowena. Sam shook his head. Shit, he loved this tiny, fiery woman. They were working a case together but she was so distracting that he could hardly focus. The way her mouth shaped the words she spoke, the way her hair brushed her cheeks as she tossed her head, the way her fingers never stilled, glossy nails tapping as she waited. 

It was all he could do to keep his hands off her.

Rowena had her trademark sass dialled up to its highest setting, pretending to be Sam’s reluctant and careless wife. When they got a moment alone, he had turned to her and hissed, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Well,” she had answered, “I know it’s not ‘pretending to be the FBI’.” The deep edge in her voice made it clear that she was imitating Sam, or Dean, or both. She rolled her pretty green eyes, and Sam was straight gone. He had to clench his fist and swallow hard to keep from grabbing her right up in his arms and kissing her then and there. 

“Just wait until I get you alone,” he murmured, soft and low so only she could hear.

“You promise?” She smirked, glossy dark lips blowing him a kiss before their source returned to the room. 

Sam could spend all day listing reasons he loved Rowena, and still not have enough time. Some of the reasons were obvious. Everyone could see her wildfire beauty, her sparkling aura that made her captivating to men and women alike. Anyone who knew her was in awe of her mind, her depth of knowledge and her experience. 

Other things she shared only with him. The curves and planes of her body, her flawless skin, the way she looked so tiny and pale when she was naked next to him. The way, in spite of -- or perhaps because of -- their size difference, she fit perfectly into his arms. Her enthusiasm and the way they enjoyed one another in bed was for him and him alone. 

In the car on the way back to the bunker, the air between then crackled with sexual tension. Jack was in the front seat, so Rowena settled in the back. Every time Sam glanced in the rearview mirror, she was looking back at him. Her gaze was unflinching, her wide eyes teasing him with desire and promises for more. 

One of the things Sam loved about Rowena was how absolutely irresistible she was when she was mocking him. Not many people could sass a Winchester and get away with it, but she did it so well and so keenly that neither brother could say anything. In the past, when they were enemies, there was a cruel edge to her wit. Now, although her words were just as sharp, there was a fondness in her tone.

Another thing, one Sam kept entirely to himself, was the way she cursed and swore during sex. It went against every inch of her carefully cultivated image as an elegant lady. But beneath that veneer of sophistication there was a Scottish peasant lass with a dirty mind and a filthy mouth. Thanks to her years of education in witchcraft, she knew any number of languages, and apparently had learned obscenities in all of them. So far, Sam had heard at least Gaelic, Latin, Greek, French, and obviously English, as well as some languages he didn’t recognize. 

The first time he had been buried between her thighs and she tossed back her head and began to swear, he had been startled. For a moment, he had wondered if he had done something wrong. Her breathless tone, the flush on her skin, and the way her fingers tangled in his hair to hold him close, let him know otherwise. 

Now, he considered that reaction an achievement. Sex with Rowena was always good, but it wasn’t always that good. He loved pushing her until she came absolutely undone, abandoning all pretense of coherence. Every time, that first moaning curse that fell from her lips was the most delicious sound he could imagine.  That Rowena, that raw filthy sweet breathless Rowena, was the one that only he saw, and one that he treasured. 

He couldn’t wait to get her alone, to push her to that point of releasing control, to watch her unfold beneath his body again.

When they got back to the bunker, Sam told Jack, “Stay out here, Rowena and I have something to talk about.” 

“What do you need to talk about?” Jack wondered, innocently. 

“Ask Dean or Cas,” Sam tossed back over his shoulder as he and Rowena hurried down the hall to their bedrooms. The minute they turned the corner, their fingers laced together. He was practically dragging her with him, her heels tapping out two steps to every one stride of his long legs just to keep up with him. 

He pulled her into his room, kicking the door shut as he pushed her shoulders back against the wall. Their mouths crashed together, all seeking heat and need. She arched her spine, desperately pressing her body along the length of his. He held her close with one hand spanning her waist. His grasp swept her heels right off the ground. The other hand tangled in her high ponytail, yanking her red hair to pull her head back. A sigh punched from her throat. She wrapped herself around him, arms clinging to his neck and legs vining around his. 

Finally he eased his mouth away from hers, his chest heaving with deep breaths. She took the opportunity to sass him again.

“Sam Winchester, is this how you treat a lady?” 

Shiiiiit, the toss of her hair, the curve of her lips, the flash of her eyes.

His hand slipped down to her ass, cupping it in his grasp. “No, but it’s how I treat a witch.” She ground up against him, rocking her hips against his length. He lifted her easily, sweeping her off her feet before turning to the bed. 

Whose hands raked over whose buttons and undid which pants and tossed aside what shirt? No one was keeping track, just that they were both desperate to get as bare and close as possible. 

Rowena was hardly divested of her clothes before Sam sank to his knees next to the bed in front of her. He skimmed kisses up the soft warm skin of her thighs, tasting her, taking his time, before burying his face in her. She hooked one leg over his shoulder and dropped her other heel down, opening herself up, shameless and begging for him. 

Sam had been hungry for Rowena this way since the very beginning. Today was no different. He pleasured her, worshipped her, touched and licked and sucked her until she came with only the lightest sighing curse on her lips.

That was an invitation for him, a challenge, a welcome. He pushed her back against the pillows and she rolled open easily under his touch. Her face was soft, her lips pink and puffy from kisses. Her eyes were wide, green need shining up at him.

“Ro,” he murmured. His breath grew short and ragged as he rocked into her. “Do you have any idea --” his words began to fracture as their bodies met and rose together. “How much I, how much you--” 

“Oh, Sam, oh.” He watched her mouth drop open and her lower lip start to tremble. “I, uh, ahhh--” And there they were, those curses, those beautifully filthy curses. He dragged his hips in and out slowly, every movement drawing another sound from her. 

Rowena arched her back, grinding against him, seeking friction, seeking Sam. “Please, oh, for the love of, fuck, goddess….” The rest of the syllables that fell from her lips were incomprehensible, at least in English, as she clamped down around him and came. 

He didn’t quit fucking her, kept up his steady pace, pushing her higher and farther. She swore and screamed and panted and came again before he let himself go. He buried his face in the velvet soft curve of her neck to her shoulder, murmuring her name. 

Sam opened his eyes to Rowena under him, looking up at him, her gaze sparkling. She smiled and batted her eyes, long lashes sweeping her porcelain cheeks. He lowered his mouth and kissed her. 

“Oh, Rowena,” he said finally. “Such a sweet filthy mouth you have. Not fit for a lady, you naughty little witch.” She giggled, darting a saucy glance at him from under lowered eyelids.

"But you love me like that," she cooed. 

"I wouldn't want you any other way," Sam answered with a grin.

Sam could spend all day listing reasons he loved Rowena. But he would never find words for the ways he loved her the most. For how she cursed and swore when they came together, For how she looked after, all soft and blushed and open.

Sam could spend the rest of his life loving Rowena. 

... Thanks @boondoctorwho @itmighthavebeenintentional for the idea. Thanks @there-must-be-a-lock and @mskathywriteswords for prereading.  ...

SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @divadinag @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @kalesrebellion @kickingitwithkirk @maddiepants @magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn   @the-chocolate-moose  @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting

Sam Girl For Life: @awesomesusiebstuff @lilsylvia @winchesterxfamilybusiness

Rowena My Queen:  @delightfullykrispypeach @lilsylvia @marril96 @pansexualdarling @songofthecagedmoose

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

Ladyhawke: Genre and Themes

Castles?  Check.

Knights in armor?  Check.

Damsel in distress?  Check.

Magical curse?  Check.

A love fraught with obstacles?  Check.

Must be a fantasy romance, right?

At first glance, it does seem like Ladyhawke would certainly fit the description of being a fantasy romance film.  Navarre’s heroics and deep connection to his beloved Isabeau are aspects that wouldn’t be out of place in a story like Beauty and the Beast or other fairy-tales.  After all, their love is what drives the story, right?  It’s the main focus.  And as for fantasy, well, isn’t it obvious?  Knights on quests and evil curses?  Couldn’t be anything but fantasy.  

As I’ve said before, genre, the categorization of a film, is determined by more than the setting. It’s what goes on within the setting.  The style of story and progression of events have as much to say about the genre as where and when it takes place.  Our mission: take a look at what goes on in the film and deduce what genres it is, and what it is not.  (Mild spoilers below!)

At first, it may seem rather easy to figure out.  There’s curse-breaking and sword fights and castles and shape-changing.  There’s also an underlying theme of the value of true love, and a couple who never gives up on each other.

And yet, if you look this film up, the genre is listed as fantasy/adventure, with no sign of romance.

How can that be, when one of the major elements of the story is romance? It’s not like it’s a minor sub-plot. Navarre and Isabeau’s relationship is hugely important.  It’s the cause of their plight, and their end goal is, of course, to break the curse so they can be together.  So how, then, has the ‘main conflict’ been pushed to the sidelines in favor of the ‘adventure’ portion?

Well, I believe the answer for that is relatively simple.

The genre of the film depends on more than what happens within the film itself.  A film can include funny moments, or scary scenes, without turning them into a comedy or horror movie.  There can be a fight scene without the film becoming an action film, and a quiet moment does not a drama make.  So what makes the difference?

The difference is found in the focus of the story, more specifically, the main character.  And that’s the problem with categorizing Ladyhawke.

In The Wizard of Oz, the main character and the person who drives the plot is the same person: Dorothy Gale. In The Princess Bride, Buttercup and Wesley’s love is what pushes the story forward, and they are our main characters.  In Ladyhawke?

Navarre and Isabeau’s relationship drives the plot all right, but they aren’t the main focus.  Oddly enough, the character with the least involvement in the story is the main focus: Phillipe Gaston.  And that is where we get our classification.  It is his story, even if it might seem like he’s hijacking it from what appears to be the main focus, and in his relationship with the existing elements of the film, we find our genres.

Let’s start with the easy one: Fantasy.

At the beginning of the film, Phillipe’s journey is small-scale. It’s an escape from prison that gets accidently tangled in the journey of another character: Etienne Navarre. While Navarre is clearly a protagonist from a Heroic Fantasy story, he is not the main character in this one, yet it is his adventure that Phillipe ends up stuck in.  Drug from his little tale into a greater, grander one, Phillipe scrambles to keep up alongside a character from sword-and-sorcery tales. So although he doesn’t begin the story involved with fantasy, he ends up there.

A large portion of the movie shows Phillipe slowly becoming aware of the existence of magic, (rare as it is in this world) and figuring out what to do once he does find out.  In this, Ladyhawke is a bit of a departure from traditional fantasy films, as it is rather grounded in the real world.  The fighting is rough and tumble, the characters react and behave in realistic ways, and the use of magic is treated as something very rare, something that the Bishop has dredged up from a world beyond ours. Despite this different take on both the protagonist and the medieval, magical worlds commonly seen in films at the time, I believe Ladyhawke is exactly what is says it is: a fantasy.

See, the more involved Phillipe becomes in the story, the more the story itself becomes a Medieval European Fantasy.  As he is hauled along on Navarre’s quest, he’s exposed to the more ‘fantastical’ elements, such as the curse, and all of a sudden, Phillipe becomes involved of his own accord.  The film makes its full switch to Heroic Fantasy the moment the monk Imperius explains the curse to Phillipe, because Phillipe becomes officially involved with the fantastic situation.

At the same time, the further the story goes, the closer Phillipe becomes to a traditional fantasy protagonist.  While he begins the movie a self-concerned thief, he ends it…..well, still a thief, but a more selfless one.  More Robin Hood, less Marion Krane.  He doesn’t exactly follow the Hero’s Journey, but he does learn and grow closer to having similar ideals to more traditional characters of the style of story.

As for the other genres?

What I said before, about this film not being considered a ‘romance’? There’s a very simple explanation for that.  Phillipe isn’t part of the romance.

At the point in which Phillipe joins the actual action of the adventure, Navarre and Isabeau have been in love for years.  They don’t really need any help from him on that front. His job is to help them break the curse so that they can continue the romance. Since he’s not involved with that storyline, and since he is our main character, the romance isn’t the main focus of the story.  The adventure is.

The adventure aspect goes hand-in-hand with the fantasy, and takes center stage more than the love story does.  There are a handful of action-oriented scenes, but the main reason for its categorization here is the main thrust of the story: the Quest.

A large number of fantasy stories do, in fact, have a Quest, whether it’s saving a princess, reclaiming the throne, offing whichever Big Bad is oppressing the people, but in Ladyhawke, again, a familiar element is used in a slightly unusual way.  The Quest to kill the Bishop isn’t to free a people or right an injustice, it’s a tale of revenge, cold, calculating revenge. Navarre wants the Bishop to get what’s coming to him as payback for the curse.  Once again, in the same vein as the fantasy story, Phillipe is pulled in, and ends up contributing as much to coming to the end of the adventure as he does trying to deal with the curse.

So, how do we categorize Ladyhawke?

Magical Elements + Quest = Fantasy/Adventure.

Phillipe Gaston is a thief pulled into a fantasy adventure, along for the ride as he helps Navarre and Isabeau on their quest, and in so doing, is the main focus.  As a result, Ladyhawke reflects that, being a down-to-earth, semi-realistic take on a fantastical genre, combining the elements of adventure and magic together perfectly to create a surprising and refreshing twist on a story easily turned clichéd.  With that in mind, it’s kind of easy to see why this movie has endeared itself to such devoted fans after its less-than-stellar release.

What was different and a little tame in an era of big and loud sword-and-sorcery movies has become a fan-favorite exactly for those reasons.  Ladyhawke took a chance with its own spin on fantasy stories and genres, telling a grounded fairy-tale from a different perspective, creating a memorable movie experience that has garnered more appreciation in the years since its release, and will likely continue to gain praise as time goes on.

Join us in the next article, where we’ll be taking an in-depth look at the characters of Ladyhawke! If you enjoyed this, or have something you’d like to say, the ask box is always open.  Thanks so much for reading, and I hope to see you all in the next article!

[doedreamss]

The Cowboy and the Mustang (Part Two)

!! READ PART ONE HERE !!

Ship: Hangman Adam Page x Jane (FOC)

Summary: Jane’s decided to carpe that diem and linger in the small Montana town for a night, intent on meeting the handsome cowboy Adam Page for drinks at the local bar.  Their already complicated relationship gets even more so. 

Rating: Explicit (there’s a descriptive smut scene)

Length: 8,308  words

Available below the cut or on AO3 HERE

Harry’s Bar was the only place open passed five o’clock in the evening on a weekday in the tiny Montana town they were stopped in.  The heavy, big wood doors were propped open to help let some cool, fresh air into the packed inside.  Laughter, music and general chatter spilled from within bathed in yellow light.  It tried to touch the few groups of patrons who’d ducked outside for a smoke and laughed and took pauses as they sucked in deep breaths and poured smoke up into the sky.

As Jane and Kate made their way down the sidewalk toward the open doors, one of the men smoking reached to pinch the brim of his white cowboy hat and dipped his head respectfully. He was handsome enough for Kate’s eyes to linger, and she wore a smile as mischievous as his quickly became. She lifted her hand and gave her fingers a little wave at him before turning away and walking with Jane into the bar.

“I don’t know how you do that so effortlessly.”

“Do what?”

“Wrap men around your finger with just a look.  It’s like a superpower.”

Kate laughed, but Jane could tell she was flattered by the compliment.  She was wild and adventurous, far more so than Jane, and often thrived on playing games with the men who tried their luck with her.  Jane wondered if Kate would ever actually find someone captivating enough to keep her interest for long.  She moved through men like she was going through seasons, never completely satisfied with who she found.

“The way that handsome blond-haired cowboy was watching you earlier, I’d say you have a bit of that superpower yourself.”  Kate teased as they sidled up to the bar and Jane blushed immediately, still unable to believe she’d somehow caught his attention enough for him to ask her out for a drink. Jane turned away from the bar, scanning the crowd to see if she could see Adam anywhere.  They’d run a little late.  It was already a half-hour past when he’d said he’d be here.  What if he thought she’d decided not to come and left?

“You know how bad I am with this kind of stuff,” Jane said, frowning as she failed to spot him among the crowd, “you know how atrocious some of those dates you’ve forced me to go on have been.”

Kate made a small, sympathetic murmur of agreement.

“This was weird Kate,” Jane said, shaking her head and glancing back at her friend.  Thankfully on the opposite side of the bar from the juke box and dance floor, the girls didn’t need to yell at one another to have a conversation.  “I’ve never felt like this before with any guy I’ve been with.”  She blinked and met Kate’s eyes.  “It’s a little scary.”

“Okay buttercup,” Kate said, taking a breath and reaching out to comfortingly rub Jane’s shoulders, “I think you might be close to spinning out about this and ruining something great for yourself.  It’s scary, yes, but it’s also exciting, right?  We said this trip was going to help us learn something about ourselves, didn’t we?  You owe it to yourself to at least have a drink with him and see where the night takes you.  If you wind up going home with him, well… we can call this a huge success.”

“Wait, aren’t you going to stay here with me?”

“No!  Besides,” Kate jerked her chin over Jane’s shoulder, “handsome cowboy dead ahead.”

“What?”  Jane asked and turned to look.  Adam was walking toward her, through the crowd.  As soon as their eyes met, he lit up in a smile that made her heart race.  She looked back and saw Kate ducking through the crowd, making her way toward a cowboy lingering near the dance floor.  Kate winked and grinned, to which Jane rolled her eyes and glanced back at Adam as he approached.

He was wearing a vintage western style long-sleeve button-up, pitch black with bold, shiny gold embroidery.  A large gold belt buckle held his leather belt closed, and she imagined when he sat it would bite gently into the soft fat on his stomach.  The belt was strapped through a pair of perfectly fitted black Wrangler jeans and the ensemble was completed with a black cowboy hat on his let-down blond curls and black-dyed ostrich leather boots.  

Damn.  The man knew how to dress to impress.  Jane suddenly worried her boho-style, flowy white and floral print dress with her brown leather cowgirl boots wasn’t enough.  If she’d known she was going to be meeting an attractive cowboy for a date, she might have thought twice about what outfits she needed to pack before she started this road trip.

“Jane, you look… amazing.” His country drawl stalled for a moment as astonishment warmed his tone.  He hesitated with his hand, it’d been clear he wanted to slide it along her hip with familiarity, as if they’d been dating for ages, and pull her in to press her body along his.  But he remembered how much they were practically strangers and stopped instead, letting the flicker of want to play out across his face.  They shared a hug that was all too brief instead and smiled shyly at each other.

“No!  You look, I mean,” Jane waved her hand up and down him, “Wow.”  Could she sound any more stupid?  This was what she’d meant when she told Kate she didn’t have what she had with men. Kate would have said something suave enough to knock Adam off his feet.

Adam grinned anyways and managed to somehow look a little bashful, which only endeared Jane to him more. “I’m sorry I’m late by the way,” he began, brows dipping further inward.  “I hope you weren’t waiting too long?”

“Oh!  No, I wasn’t.  Kate and I were running a little behind anyways, so it kind of worked out.”

“Alright!  Come on, let me buy you that whiskey I promised you.”

Adam stepped up at the bar and slammed the flat of his palm against the bar top, drawing the attention of the bartender who’d been distracted joking around with a few other patrons.

“Adam!  Let me get your beer,” the bartender said with a grin, happy to see Adam, and turned to grab a glass.

“Actually – wait, Wade, instead of the usual, can I get two glasses and a bottle of… hell, whatever whiskey you’d recommend.”

“Oh?  I can’t remember the last time you drank with anyone other than yourself.  Which sucker did you offer to buy booze for tonight?”  Wade asked and swept his eyes over to Jane who was standing beside Adam. Something seemed to click, and his gaze flashed a little wider back on Adam. “Oh… Oh, alright.  Sure Adam.”  He turned, fighting a smile as he went to fetch them glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

Why did Adam always drink alone?  Why was it such a surprise for the bartender to see him with her?  Jane glanced toward Adam’s profile with a gently confused frown across her brow, but he didn’t turn toward her or say anything.  She decided it must be a topic he didn’t want to discuss.

After getting the glasses and bottle, they found a secluded booth toward the back of the bar, tucked away from the music and the dance floor where they could drink and talk with some privacy.  Adam poured a splash of deep, golden whiskey into each glass and handed hers before lifting his own.

“We should say cheers to something.”

“Alright,” Jane agreed, frowning, “cheers to…Whiskey, the horse that brought us together.”  

“Actually,” Adam lifted a finger from his glass and pointed it at her, “he told me his name, and it isn’t Whiskey.”

“Oh no?”  Jane grinned.  “What did he tell you his name was?”

“Lucky.”  Adam replied, and there was a bit of softness there. “We both figured he must be my good luck charm if the same day I got him and started working him was the day you showed up.”

Jane’s cheeks were warm as she glanced at the cowboy sitting across from her.  A smile turned the corner of her lips before she softly decreed, “Cheers to random moments that lead us to something unexpectedly wonderful.”

Adam was smiling too, and he raised his glass toward hers, clinking them gently.  “Cheers.”

After they’d each taken a sip and admired the smooth depth of the whiskey – Adam had waved his hand at Wade and complimented his choice– they fell into easy conversation.  At first it was the basic stuff.  Jane learned Adam had grown up in this town but moved away when he went to college.  He’d come back a few years ago to be close to his parents again, and for a moment he went a little quiet, and Jane suspected that wasn’t the only reason he’d decided to come home.  She wondered what could have happened to him.  

Before she had the opportunity to think about prying further, Adam had turned a new question on her, wondering where she was from.  Jane had told Adam she was from Oregon.  They talked about the mountain, the forests, how she’d come to love horses and how he’d come to love them; Adam had been raised around horses, his father had tamed wild horses just like Adam did now, and that’s where he’d learned it from.  Jane had always wanted a horse but came from a family that couldn’t afford one.  She’d studied horses from afar and been lucky the few times her parents had the money to put her in riding lessons.  She’d eventually earned scholarships for school and worked hard to keep herself exactly where she wanted to be. Adam found that admirable, and she’d blushed and chewed at her bottom lip when he rained the sweetest compliments on her.

The night continued as they drank and laughed and talked and drank.  The more time passed and the drunker they both got, the more times they stopped talking to wander toward the dance floor.  Adam would pinch her hips with his broad palms and pull her in tight against him and get a little bit braver every song they went out to.  The next time he spun her, his hand slid firm and with purpose down the curve of her ass.   As his fingers gripped into the fat he hissed in a hard breath through his nose, lips pressed in a thin line together and jaw clenched.

Jane swallowed thick; her body pressed up against his.  The room was spinning and warm.  She felt sticky with sweat.  She curled her fingers into his shirt and looked up into his hungry face.  “Can we step outside?  I think all the dancing is… getting to me.”

“Of course, darlin,” Adam said softly and put an arm around her waist as he walked her outside the bar.

The cool night air was exactly what she needed to steady her racing heart.  She smiled over at Adam, tilting her head at how pretty he looked beneath the sign’s neon light.  He’d tugged his hat off and run his thick fingers through his long, curly blond hair, and it made her want to do it, too.  She giggled.

“What?”  He asked, watching her curiously.

“I just can’t believe how handsome you are.”

“Ah, I…”  He grinned and ducked his eyes down, giving her that sweet reaction she’d grown to love since she’d seen how shy he’d get. “Thank you.  Means a lot, especially coming from a woman as beautiful as you,” he managed, glancing up at her and smiling as though dazed.

“God… you are too much.” The last words Jane managed before she flung herself forward, drunk and crashing her body into his thick, sturdy frame before laying her arms across his broad shoulders.  Her lips smashed against his.  His shocked surprise melted away quick and soon he was kissing her back with as much need as she’d demanded from him, if not more.  Desperation paused at the edges of his touch, like he’d been a man starved of affection for too long and was having trouble holding himself back from devouring it all at once.

It’d been a long time since Jane had been kissed, let alone like this.  Adam’s hands were all over her body and he’d backed her against the brick wall to the bar, digging his hips up against hers.  He was rough, but somehow Jane still knew he was doing everything he could to hold back, and he could be rougher.  The way that storm brewed inside him and he tried his best to contain it made her heart pound.  Adam pressed his tongue into her mouth and a soft moan vibrated in her throat as he dug his hips up between her legs.

A few snickers and whistles from down the way quickly reminded them both they weren’t alone.  Adam jumped away from her as though she burned – or he burned her – and blinked until he’d cleared himself of the haze their desire had laid over them.

“I –”

“Are you sober?” Before he could get through his thoughts, Jane pressed, knowing exactly what she wanted now.  She’d never felt this way before and Kate had been right. She was going to take full control of this experience and she had a feeling Adam needed to let go too.

“No.”

Jane suppressed a groan, knowing she was still too drunk to safely drive.  “Please tell me this town has a cab service.”

“Actually, on Friday and Saturday nights, old Earl runs a little complimentary service to give free rides to people who can’t drive themselves home.”

“Oh, perfect.  Can we…” she realized then that she didn’t want to bring him back to the hotel room.  What if Kate had gone back early?  What if she already had someone there?  What if she arrived there later when Jane and Adam were… busy?  She felt awkward, suddenly, realizing she was essentially inviting herself over to his place.  “I mean, if you wanted to,” she stumbled out through kiss-swollen lips that still tasted like him, “I figured I could come to your place and we could… keep… going.”

Adam looked at her for only a moment and then nodded quick.  “Yep.  C’mon.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and quickly hit a number, dialing the man who offered rides and letting him know how much they’d appreciate one.  As soon as he hung up the phone, he was pulling her toward him, letting her body gently crash and settle against his.  His hand slid greedy down her backside and rested against the side-curve of her ass.  

“I don’t really do this.” Her alcohol loose tongue spilled the beans but before she could be embarrassed, Adam was nodding.

“I don’t either.”

“I don’t know if I believe you,” Jane said, tilting her head and looking up at him.  “You’re… ridiculously handsome, you’re sweet, you’re funny… wait, did I say how hot you were?”

“I think handsome counts toward that.”

“No.  No, handsome and hot are two things.  You are both.”

“You’re quite the flatterer when you’re drunk.”

“And it’s adorable how shy you are about your good qualities, but also very frustrating. Stop dodging my compliments, cowboy.” Jane pressed up on the tip of her toes and pecked a quick kiss against his lips.  They smiled at each other when she pulled away.

“Actually, Jane, I –” Adam began, but Jane shook her head firmly.

“Nu-uh.  I said no arguing.”

“I wasn’t, I needed to tell you –” but before it could register that Adam was talking, someone honked their car horn behind her, and Jane jumped to look at an old man in a pick-up waving his hand toward them.

“Hey Adam!”  It must’ve been Earl, the man who was going to give them a ride.  Jane grinned and, hand in Adam’s, turned to head toward the truck.  Adam didn’t follow.

“Wait, Jane, before we go, I needed to tell you –”

“Adam,” Jane said as she turned back toward him.  “Whatever you have to say won’t change my mind.  I… there’s something about you, about the way I feel about you, that I just can’t explain.  I’m always logical, I always follow the path I can clearly see.  I told Kate I wanted to learn to take risks and be brave, and I think fate led me here at the right moment so I could meet you.  I don’t want to think about what tomorrow morning means, or that eventually I’m going to have to leave.  I just want to be in the moment with you.  Tonight.  Please?”

Adam drew in a breath; he opened his mouth but seemed lost for words.  His hand squeezed hers tight before nodding and following her toward the waiting pick-up truck.

Somehow Adam managed to hold a casual conversation with Earl on the short drive back to his property. Earl shot a few questions at her which Jane managed to answer despite being distracted eyeing Adam every chance she got.  She needed those firm hands on her body again.  She needed his mouth searing kisses into her skin.  She needed to feel him pull her close as if every second they spent apart was a kind of torture for him to endure.  That passionate storm was inside him, and Jane wanted to be the one he unleashed it on.

She needn’t suffer long, since the town was small, and Adam’s small ranch wasn’t too far outside the main streets.  Earl pulled the truck into the driveway and let Adam know to give him a call if he needed a ride to get his pick-up the next day.  He bid farewell to Jane and told her it was a pleasure meeting her. As he rolled his pick-up truck out of the driveway, leaving them standing hand-in-hand in front of Adam’s house, a horse nickered gently from the pine-wood arena.

“Looks like we woke Lucky up.” Adam said with a grin, gesturing toward the bay colt who stood at the fence, watching them with ears perked.

“Sorry Lucky!” Jane waved, and Lucky snorted, bobbing his head and giving another rumbling nicker.

“He’s telling you,” Adam whispered playfully, and jane laughed.

“I said sorry!”

Lucky snorted, swished his tail against his flanks and turned around, clearly deciding he’d heard enough and was done talking with her.

“Come on,” Adam whispered in her ear, pressing his lips against her neck.  “Let’s go inside.”  He turned her toward the door, fishing into his pocket for the house keys.

After fumbling a little with the lock, Adam managed to open the door and the pair of them spilled into the living area without any grace.  The door slammed shut as she pushed him into it and fell against him, lips hot on his and tongue slipping in his mouth.  Adam groaned, fingers pinching her skin and tracing over her curves. Jane’s hands dropped between their bodies, and her fingers brushed the shape of his cock, semi-hard and trapped in the tight denim of his jeans.  Adam grunted and clenched his jaw, pouring a hot breath out of flared nostrils.

“God woman,” he managed in a tight voice as she ran her fingers up and down its shape, teasing more blood to fill it.

Drunk and giddy on the boldness inside her, Jane kept pushing the more Adam responded.  She tugged his shirt from his jeans and slipped her fingers up beneath the material where she could feel his warm skin.  Adam groaned.  His wide palms skimmed down her backside until they could grip and squeeze into the fat on her ass.  He pushed her into him, and Jane went without a fuss.

While she had been the one to lose control initially, Adam turned the tides quickly.  He pushed off the door and bullied her willing body backwards, one hand lifting to the back of her hair, guiding her mouth against his. His tongue pushed into her mouth just as the arm of the couch touched the back of her knees.  Adam didn’t stop and they toppled over, him falling as a shadowed blanket over her body.  Their laughter and giggling were breathless and short-lived as their mouths crashed together again.

A knee between her legs parted them, and Adam’s hips sank dominantly.  He pressed the bulge of his hard cock, painfully trapped beneath his denim jeans, against the rucked-up fabric of her flowy dress and the cotton of her panties.  He thrusted and groaned.  Jane’s eyelashes fluttered, chin jutting out toward him as the back of her head pressed into the couch cushion she was laid on.  When his mouth left hers – he panted in warm breaths above her as he grinded between her legs – Jane moaned unashamedly.  It melted into a needy whine, and her fingers left his thick, muscled arms to run down the shape of his back, nails pushing into the material of his shirt.

Adam lowered his mouth, caught her lips greedily and with enough force to bruise, but didn’t stay long. He left her lips tingling as he began to kiss along her jawline and down her neck.  Jane’s hands went to the buttons on his shirt, eagerly and blindly slipping them out of their holes until the material hung open.  Her fingers were immediately on his chest, smoothing down the firm shape of his pecs and over the soft fat on his stomach that lay atop the firm muscle below.  She arched her nails into his skin just to feel him tremble, and to hear him moan against her as he took his mouth from her collarbone.

Pushing his palm into the couch for leverage, Adam lifted himself off the couch and away from her.  He stood, breathing in great, heaving gasps, with his shirt hung open at his sides and showing that delicious torso and chest underneath.  His cock was a hard and thick defined shape trapped in his Wranglers.  His long, fluffy blond curls had been tousled by her greedy fingers and lay in wild directions around his face.  He reached down, easily grabbing her up and swinging her over his shoulder.  He was strong…  Jane squealed and laughed, kicking her feet out. “C’mon, wild thing.  I think it’s time you were tamed.” He said while playfully jostling her up and onto his shoulder.  He reached with the hand not holding her and smacked her ass.  Hard.

“Adam!”  Jane squealed, gasping at the soft sting of contact that made her nerves sing.

Adam chuckled with a raspy breath and kicked the door to his bedroom open with his boot, walking quickly across the open space to dump her gently onto the bed.  Jane bounced into the soft give of the mattress, laughter in her mouth as she turned on the duvet and laid herself out in front of him.  The flowy, flirty material of her dress had ridden up her thighs and left them bare and pale for him to look at.  Adam stood at the end of the bed, knees brushing its edge, and stared down at her with his blue eyes gone black in hunger.

Jane had never had a man look at her like that, let alone one who looked like Adam.  She was breathless, skin flush and patched with red from where his mouth, tongue and teeth had already tasted her all down her neck and over the soft cleavage of her breasts.  Lying out on his bed, Jane propped herself up on her elbows as Adam slowly began to strip from his clothes in front of her.  He pushed the shirt still hanging open off first, revealing those thick, work-muscle curved arms, broad chest and thick torso.  His fingers fell to his belt buckle next, which caught a shimmer of light from the moon outside when he tugged it from the clasp and left the leather of the belt hanging open in his well-fitting jeans.  

She drew a breath as he slipped the button free on his jeans, tugging the stiff denim off his hips. She could easily see the thick bulge of his cock pressed hard and needy against his boxer-briefs, tip of the head skimming the elastic band.  He hooked them on his thumbs and tugged, pulling them down his thick, blond-hair dusted thighs.  His cock swung forward, heavy, and he grunted before sighing with relief at finally having no restrictions holding it tight.  He was big… bigger than Jane had ever been with (not that she’d been with many men to compare him to).  Her eyes widened, and she forced herself to pull them from his cock, so their eyes could meet.

Jane swore the alcohol should have all but burned up in her veins but thought she must still be at least buzzed for the bravado she suddenly grasped.  Beneath the steadfast eyes of a handsome, naked blond-haired angel cowboy in front of her, Jane slowly pushed herself up on the bed until she was on her knees.  She reached down, grabbing the material of her dress, heart pounding in her throat and skin hot.  Forcing herself to hold his eyes, Jane pulled it upright slowly, pulling the fabric away until she was kneeling in front of him in her cute matching set of baby blue and white pinstripe bra and panties.  She didn’t stop or hesitate, even when Adam’s tongue wet his lips in anticipation and made the muscles in her belly squeeze tight.   She twisted an arm behind her back and easily popped the clasp to her bra, shrugging the material off completely.  Her fingers went to her panties.

“Wait,” he could barely talk, his throat was so tight, but that command fell hard between them.  She watched his large chest rise and fall with needed breaths and slowly pulled her hands away from her hips.

Adam leaned his weight onto the bed, setting his bare knees atop the duvet.  He crawled over her and Jane laid back until her head was on the pillows and he was a dark shadow above her.  Horses, the outdoors, a faint wisp of unoffensive cologne and the clean smell of whatever he used for his curly, blond hair drifted off him and wrapped itself around her.  She sighed into it, too wrapped up in the emotions to realize that though they were practically strangers, that smell made her soul feel as if she was home.

His fingertips lay gentle touches on her body, down her arms, along her sides, to her hips.  They stilled in the elastic of her panties, and Adam pressed his lips against hers, suppressing a groan on her tongue as he pulled that last bit of clothing that lay as a barrier between them.  As soon as they were cast aside, his hands returned to her body, skimming her curves, fingers curling in to where fat naturally rested on her figure and giving it a greedy squeeze.  His calloused palms slipped from her ass to her breasts, where he devoted time, tongue, and touch to making her nipples hard and her moans sing one after the other from her caught-open mouth.  Jane arched her back toward his touch and reached to slip her fingers into his blond curls, pulling tight.

His mouth popped wet off her right breast, the skin tingling from where his beard had gently scratched it. One hand was used to prop his large body over her, so he didn’t squish her beneath his weight, but the other reached so his thumb and forefinger clasped her chin.  Adam turned her eyes toward his – barely discernible, but for the moonlight pouring in the window to the left of the bed – and slowly lowered his hips between her parted legs.  His cock skimmed her thigh before the head pressed at the warm, wet, tender lips between her legs.  He found where she parted, their eyes locked, and his open mouth poured a warm, long moan over her as he slowly sank inch after inch inside her.

Only once there was no more room left for him to press in did Adam release her chin.  He dipped and smeared his lips over hers.  His tongue pushed into her mouth at the same time he drew his hips back and pushed in again.  His moan was a vibration in against her tongue and to hear it made her eyes want to roll.  Jane arched toward him, taking him more eagerly at his next thrust.  Together, they found a pace that drew passionate moans spilling freely from her kiss-swollen lips and ones from him in hot, heavy breaths above her.

For a moment, that’s what it was.  Fucking. The pair of them lost in the sensation of being in that intimate, special place with someone their hearts were deeply moved by.   Jane watched him over her, what she could see of him in eyes adjusted to the dark and moonlight spilled through glass pane.  She watched the hard dip of his brow, the intense dark of his blue eyes staring down at her, and the jerk of his gold curls over her, the ends just brushing her bare shoulders every time he thrust inside.  She could feel how tight she was around him.  How wet.

Adam’s eyes met hers, and they were pulled back into the moment and away from their individual, romantic thoughts.  Adam’s hips slowed, and each stroke was full, languid, and enjoyed.  He dipped, brushing his lips across hers with a brief touch that sent tingles through them.  Once.  Twice. He teased these kisses, but never fully pressed his mouth against hers.  She ached for it.  The tips of her brows pulled inward and the noise she made became half a moan, half a whine.  Adam responded with a chuckle that was merely a breath and sank into kissing her as deeply and fully as she’d wanted.  His tongue stroked hers as his cock pressed inside, and she moaned, arching beneath him.

Only when their lungs were near starved of air did their lips break, and each drew desperate, shared breaths as Adam’s forehead pressed against hers.

“Jane,” he moaned, and to hear him say her name nearly pushed her to the edge.

“Oh,” she whined, brow pinched tight, face warm with his breath, “Adam… Adam…”

The slow pace dissipated as he pulled them toward delectation, his hips swinging wildly into hers, their moans and grunts and panting mixing together.  Sweat stuck their skin close and blood sang through their veins, every nerve in their bodies on fire, sensitive to the faintest touch.  Jane’s eyes closed tight, her mouth hung open, and the velvet muscles wrapped around his cock squeezed tight before, victim to the whims of her body, she went still as stone.

“Adam!”  One last cry strangled from her throat as the crash came. Fireworks behind her eyes.  Jane’s thighs trembled and shook, clapping against his hips as Adam grunted and drove himself deep inside her, going still. His thick fingers curled tight into the sheets, muscled arms squeezing her arms tight.  The heat of him poured inside her, and it was only then she realized they’d been too wrapped up in the moment and hadn’t thought to use protection. Strangely enough, for a girl who never took risks, Jane wasn’t the slightest bit bothered.

Adam slumped on top of her for a moment, drew a breath, and slowly eased his weight from suffocating her. Sensitive and coming down from their individual highs, they maneuvered their bodies carefully to relax into the aftermath.  Gingerly, Adam pulled himself from her, bent to lay a soft kiss against her forehead, and walked barefoot across the room to what appeared to be the master bathroom. The light pooled white and gentle from the open door and he left it on as he returned clutching a small washcloth which he’d lightly dampened with warm water.

“If you’d like?”  A question in his voice as he handed it toward her.

Jane smiled and took it from him, trying not to be touched that his first thought after sex was to get her a washcloth to clean up with.  It was an act that should be commonplace, but she knew from experience it often wasn’t.  As she cleaned away the sticky webs of their joined cum from her thighs, Adam returned to the bathroom to presumably wash himself up, came back to pull on his boxer-briefs and turned to rummage around in the nearby dresser.

“I can give you one of my shirts to sleep in, if you’d like?”

Jane had just started gathering up her clothes when she looked up and saw him smiling gently, hand extended with a white cotton t-shirt in hand.  She smiled and nodded, taking it with a thank you and went to clean herself up, pulling on her panties and pulling his shirt on before glancing at herself in the bathroom mirror.  Had she ever seen herself look so carefree and happy?  A smile crawled across her face before she could stop it, and she ran her fingers through her hair, fixing it from where it’d bunched and tangled during their lovemaking.  Her heart felt as if it skipped, thinking of going back into the room and snuggling into his arms for the evening.

That smile again.

She turned away and clicked off the light, stepping into the moonlit room where her cowboy had gingerly taken her dress and bra, setting them on the dresser beside where he’d propped her boots.  He was laying in bed beneath the cover and, when she entered the room, threw the other side back and gently patted the mattress.

“C’mere beautiful,” he said, voice gentle and sweet.

Jane slipped into bed and cuddled up against his side as he opened his arm for her to tuck in.  That arm wrapped around her body as Jane turned into him, head resting on his broad, warm chest.  For a moment they said nothing, only existed.  Adam’s breath was warm against her hair.  Everything in Jane began to relax, her entire body feeling as if it were made of jelly.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this content.  Her eyelids began to gently close and she fought them, not wanting to waste a moment they had together on sleep.  Adam’s fingers began to skim up and down her bicep and shoulder.

“Can I say something super cheesy?”  Jane asked quietly, eyes still closed.

“Mm?”  His voice rumbled in his chest where her cheek rested.

“The way I feel with you… I’ve never felt this way with anyone.”  Too astonished, too happy, and too relaxed, Jane couldn’t pause to worry about whether that was something she should have kept to herself.  Those were the kind of things you said to a man you’d been seriously dating, not a one night stand you met on a quick stop-off on a road trip where you’d likely never return.

It was only when Adam didn’t say anything immediately that worry pinched at her heart.  Jane stirred on his chest, tilting her head up to look at him.  She found him watching her, blond curls a fluffy mane around his handsome face, blue eyes filled with a myriad of emotions all tangled up in one.  He was smiling, though, and he shook his head gently back and forth before leaning forward and pulling her in with his arm, so he could press his lips in a kiss against the top of her head.

“I feel the same way about you,” he confessed once he’d laid back and relaxed his arm, letting them return to how they’d been snuggling.

Without it needing to be said, they both were smart enough to see that this wasn’t easy.  In the morning, Kate would likely be ready to drive on, and they’d continue to their destination.  Maybe on the way back they could stop again… but Jane still had a semester left before graduating university and from there, she’d planned on job hunting closer to home to stay near her parents, siblings, and nephews and nieces.  Adam had his parents here and his small horse ranch and horse training business.  Their lives were set in opposite directions.

It was with that unfortunate echo of an ache, wrapped up in Adam’s arms, that Jane drifted off to sleep, her mind unable to grasp to a solution, but too comfortable being held by him to do anything but surrender to the peace it inspired.

Sleep came and stayed until the soft, gentle chiming of an alarm began to pull her back to consciousness. She groaned gently.

“Sorry darlin’,” Adam whispered in a soft voice, gently easing himself out from where they’d still been tucked up close together, so he could grab his phone and cut the alarm.  “I have to go feed the horses.”  It was still dark outside, judging by the lack of light in the room.  He slipped out of the bed and the immediate lack of his warmth made her shiver. Gently, he set the cover back around her before rummaging around for clothes.

“Do you want me to help?” It was mumbled into the crook of her arm, where she hadn’t managed to lift her head.  Despite offering, she could feel sleep pulling her back.

Adam leaned over and placed a kiss on her temple, thumb gently tucking a wayward lock of her hair behind her ear.  Jane lifted her sleepy eyes toward him and raised a brow.

“No, that’s alright sweetheart,” his gently spoken terms of endearment were making her heart ache in the most wonderful ways.  He was still bent toward her, holding her face in the palm of his hand as if he couldn’t pull away.  “When I get done we’ll go get some breakfast.  Sound good?”

“Mm, mhm.”  Jane nodded, and Adam brushed his lips against hers, sank into a deeper kiss, smiled and finally let her go.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up when I’m done.”

“Mmkay,” she barely managed, eyelids already drooping, and curled her arms around the blanket in his absence, inhaling his smell that sat in the sheets and drifting back off to sleep. His gentle laugh at her sleepy antics where the greeting to her dreams.

Jane wasn’t sure how long she slept for, but the soft light of early morning pushing in through the curtains pried at her eyes and she slowly opened them, wiping the sleep away and blinking the room into focus.  Adam still hadn’t returned, but she wasn’t entirely surprised and felt a small stab of guilt, thinking she should have forced him to let her help him.  It would’ve gone faster with the two of them.  Slowly she moved from the bed, pulling the covers back and going to the bathroom to splash a bit of water on her face and run her fingers through her hair.  She was just beginning to debate whether she should steal a pair of sweatpants from his drawers and go out to help him when she realized she could hear noises from somewhere in the house.

It sounded like a skillet being put on the stove, and she wondered if Adam had decided to surprise her by cooking breakfast instead of them going out.  Smiling, Jane moved quickly from the bathroom, still dressed only in her panties and his shirt (it was large on her, the hem just barely covering the curve of her rear), she decided she’d let him know she was awake and spend time with him while he cooked.  

Jane started down the hallway, not trying to be particularly quiet.  From around a turn, where she assumed the kitchen was, there came a sudden voice.

“Adam?  You must’ve slept in late!  Those horses are pry starving!”

A woman’s voice.

“I didn’t see your truck in the driveway!  Did Earl Brown have to drive you home last night?”

Jane froze in step, eyes wide.  What…? Who…?

“I’m making biscuits and gravy; it’ll be ready by the time you’re through feeding!”

Standing near the end of the hallway, Jane glanced back down at the end where the bedroom was, fingers pulling the hem of his shirt down and wondering what she should do.  Should she go hide in the room until Adam came back in and explained what was happening?  Should she go grab her dress, see if she could sneak out the window and call Kate to come pick her up?  Shit… she couldn’t do that, she’d left her purse with her cellphone next to the couch when they’d first started making out.

Was he… with another woman? No… that couldn’t be it…  Adam didn’t seem like the kind of man capable of cheating.  Jane didn’t understand.

“Adam?”  Concern and confusion now, and the voice was closer than before.  When Jane hadn’t answered they’d apparently decided to come investigate.

Fuck.  Fuck, fuck, fuck…  It was too late for Jane to duck back down the hall.  They’d see her scurrying away.

“Oh!”  An older woman appeared around the corner of the hallway and stopped dead in her tracks, blinking with wide eyes and staring at Jane. “Oh… Oh my dear, I am so sorry… I thought you were…”  She turned red in the face at the sight of Jane’s lack of dress.

“Um…”  Jane took a small step back, dying inside and trying to figure out what to do.

At that exact moment someone else joined them.  A young girl, maybe six or seven, with long curly blond hair set like a wild, untamable mane around her fair face and the prettiest set of blue eyes.  She was holding a small, stuffed pony and dressed in a long cotton purple shirt with frilly fabric at the end and pink heart patterned leggings.

“Why are you wearing my daddy’s shirt?”

“Uhh…”  Jane’s eyes were wide and jumped to the woman, who she now assumed must be Adam’s mother.  Oh god… oh god…

“Avery, sweetheart,” the older woman blinked and snapped her realizations in place, turning with a smile at her granddaughter.  “Can you help grandma set the table?  Three places, alright?”

“But grandma,” the little girl argued in a whisper, glancing back at Jane with a confused and suspicious look across her young face, “she’s wearing my daddy’s shirt.”

“Avery be a good girl, alright.  Listen to grandma.  Go set the table.”

Avery looked from her grandma to the stranger in the house – Jane – and a look of frustration crossed her face before she turned around and headed back the way they’d come.

“I’m so sorry dear,” Adam’s mother started with hushed apologies, shaking her head and waving over Jane’s shoulder, “You just go back and get yourself decent.  Breakfast will be ready in a little while.”  With one last look that was both confused and apologetic, the older woman turned and followed the way Avery had gone, leaving Jane standing alone in the hallway, struggling to process what had just happened.

Adam… had a daughter?

Jane had ducked quickly into the living room to grab her purse, retreated to the bedroom to put on her bra and dress and was sitting on the bed, trying to figure out what she was going to do, by the time Adam slowly came into the room.  He looked embarrassed and closed the door with a soft click behind him.

“Jane… I…”

“You have a daughter.”

“Yeah…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Confused, she searched his face for answers.

“I don’t know…” He glanced from the floor at his feet to her and shook his head slowly.  “I… I was going to, before we got into Earl’s truck, but… what you said about not wanting to worry about the consequences, and it just being about last night… I was drunk… I…”  He paused and blew out a breath, walking across the room to sit on the end of the bed.  They were in reach, but still sitting apart.  “I don’t have a good enough reason, Jane.  I just felt something for you I haven’t felt for anyone in a long time, and I was afraid if you knew I was a single father, you wouldn’t want to get involved with me.  I should have said something, I know.  I just… wanted to let go for once and enjoy something good that crossed my path.  I don’t get that very often, if ever.”

There was an ache in his voice.  A sorrow. It transcended across his body and his shoulders were hunched, eyes dark and troubled.  

“Well…”  Jane drew a breath, “it’s not like anyone got hurt… I mean, I’m horrifyingly embarrassed knowing the first time your mother and daughter saw me, I was only wearing your t-shirt and my panties, but I’ll be fine as long as your daughter isn’t mentally scarred.”

Adam’s brows dipped apologetically.  “God, Jane, I’m so sorry… my mom was going to keep Avery for the day, but she had a nightmare and wanted me, so they decided to come over and cook up breakfast.  I was out in the barn and didn’t hear them pull up, and I never have anyone over, so she didn’t think…”

Immediately, Jane thought of that adorable little girl with his fluffy blond curls and lovely blue eyes, scared and needing her father, and nothing else mattered.  Who cared if she’d suffered some embarrassment?  It wasn’t the first time.  It would have been nice to have Adam tell her about his daughter, but Jane could see his side of things.  Why bother talking about her if it was obvious, they weren’t going to see one another again?  

“Can I ask about her mother?”

A look crossed Adam’s face. It was that same one he’d had briefly last night, when Wade had been surprised to see he was with a girl, and when he’d started talking about moving back home after college.  It was pain and sadness and regret.

“She’s out of the picture. For good.”  His voice clipped at the end.

“Oh…”  Jane said softly and glanced at her hands in her lap.

“It was her choice.”

She looked over at him. Adam licked his lips and ran a frustrated hand through his curls, offsetting them.  It made Jane’s fingers itch, wanting to reach across the distance between them to tuck the hair back in place.  He wore his pain so close to the surface, it was impossible not to see it.

“How old was Avery when she left?”

“It was a month before she turned two.  I moved back home so my mom could help me with raising her.”

“Oh…”  Jane blinked, trying to think of a reason a woman would leave her year-old daughter and a man like Adam behind.  She just kept drawing blanks.

Suddenly, there came a wild flurry of little knocks on the door.  “Daddy and Daddy’s friend, Grandma says breakfast is ready!  Come get it while it’s hot!”  The little voice yelled behind the door, and despite the heavy atmosphere in the room, Jane smiled.  They could hear the little patter of her feet as she ran back away, returning to the kitchen.

Adam looked over at Jane.

“If you just want to leave, I wouldn’t blame you.  I can wait with you until your friend arrives… I’d hate to subject you to sitting down for breakfast with my mama and my daughter after all this.”

Those were the sort of things you did after you’d been dating for a while, when you talked about maybe becoming a little more serious and kept going back and forth about when and how you’d meet them.  Their already complicated story got a whole lot more complicated.

“Do you want me to leave?” Jane asked, watching him quietly.

“No,” he said it too quickly, realized he did, and drew a breath.  It slipped out slow and he shook his head, staring at her.  “I don’t ever want you to leave.”  He hesitated, as if realizing he’d said it, and then decided to charge full steam ahead.  “Actually, I uh… I’ve been trying to sort it out the whole morning while I was feeding the horses, I might have some ideas how we could make this work…”

“Make… what work?” Jane could barely breathe.

“Us…”  Adam’s blue eyes were soft on her.  “If… if you wanted to try it, that is.”

Talk about complicated. Jane blinked, envisioning her strict plan she’d kept herself diligently on, pushing herself through university to earn her degree, and how close she was to finally checking everything off her to-do list.  Nowhere did it say she’d start dating a single father in Montana.

But when was the last time anyone made her feel this way?

Jane stood up slowly. A look of sorrow touched Adam’s face as he assumed, she meant to leave, but he pushed it away, as if he wanted to do everything he could to help ease the burden of making this decision  He didn’t even want her knowing he was upset about the choice he made, trying to respect what she chose.  Jane’s heart ached, but she didn’t leave the room. Instead, she walked around to his front to face him, put her hands on his shoulders and smiled when his eyes lifted and met hers.

“Let’s hear those ideas,” Jane said, and was about to say more when Avery’s little voice yelled through the house.

“YOUR BISCUITS ARE GETTING COLD!”

They both broke out into grins.

“After breakfast.” Jane concluded.  “I’d hate to let a man’s biscuits go cold.”

Adam stood up, and his wide, warm, calloused palms wrapped around her hands.  He pulled her in and leaned down, kissing her gently.

“After breakfast.”

[butsomeofusarelookingatthestars]

could you do one with luke please?? i was thinking something where the readers like an ex-con or something and the team calls her in for questioning because she fits their profile and luke learns about her criminal history for the first time?? kinda angsty please thanks so much xx

Reasons Why

Fandom: Criminal MindsPairing: Luke Alvez x ReaderPrompt: Request

Description: As a profiler, it was his job to get inside unsubs’ minds. However, Luke never expected to truly empathise with one.

This is a super angsty piece. I actually got a little sad writing it!

“You don’t know me Agent Alvez.”

Luke curiously examined the woman sitting across from him, her arms folded across her chest determinedly as she boldly met his gaze.

The BAU were meant to understand the unsubs they hunted, but Luke couldn’t even seem to get a read on the suspect sat in front of him. On paper, she fitted their profile perfectly having been convicted of a violent offence in the past.

However, as she sat across from him in the interview room, Luke couldn’t see any trace of the violent criminal she was meant to be. If anything, she seemed reserved…almost as if she were afraid of saying too much. That being said, there was a powerful confidence that shone through as she stared at him defiantly.

There was something about her that remained a total mystery to him.

“Why don’t you tell me who you are then Ms Y/L/N?” He asked quietly, realising his words sounded more like a polite request rather than an interrogation.

It wasn’t often that he felt on the back foot when interviewing suspects, but Y/N Y/L/N was something else entirely.

She sighed softly, lacing her fingers together as she leant back slightly in her chair. For the first time during their exchange, her eyes evaded his as if she was trying to distance herself from him.

Luke frowned slightly in confusion as his grip on his pen tightened. He was almost fearful of her withdrawn behaviour. There was a sadness about her that was making him feel increasingly uncomfortable.

“I still remember it like it were yesterday.” She murmured quietly, her voice icily cold as she fixated her gaze on her hands. “You don’t forget when someone…”

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes clouding over with an emotion Luke couldn’t quite place. He felt his arm twitch as he saw her shiver slightly, having to stop himself from handing her the jacket hung on the back of his chair.

It wasn’t like him to feel much sympathy for criminals. After all, he had spent most of his life chasing them down in the pursuit of justice. However, there was a sort of vulnerability about Y/N that made his heart ache. Despite the resilience in her eyes, he could see the hurt concealed in their depths.

“He took everything from me.” She whispered quietly, moving her arms to fold them across her chest. Before, it had been a display of a defiance. Now, it seemed as if she were trying to protect herself.

Luke felt his breath hitch in his throat at her words, knowing full-well what her case file contained.

He couldn’t imagine being betrayed like that by someone who you loved, someone who was meant to protect you. She had been in hospital for weeks following the brutal injuries her own fiancé had inflicted on her, the assault leaving emotional scars that would never heal.

It was for that reason why the BAU suspected she may have had something to do with the recent ‘vigilante’ killings of violent men with a history of abusing women. It had been an exceedingly difficult case to work given that many of team found it hard to feel much sympathy for the victims – Luke included.

“He got away with it. No one could believe that a man like him was capable of…” Her voice trailed off as her fingers delicately traced the band on her wrist.

Luke’s eyes followed her movement, softening as he realised that it was a coping mechanism counsellors taught victims to use. He knew that her abuser had gotten off lightly at court, his money and privilege guaranteeing him his undeserved freedom.

“Did you know that they can question a rape survivor’s character in court?” She murmured quietly, refusing to meet his eyes as she focused on the band around her wrist. “I didn’t…not until they brought up the guy I had dated in college and the fact I had been out clubbing with my friends that night to celebrate my promotion.”

“Doesn’t that make you angry?” Luke asked, his voice filling with utter contempt at the thought of a man being able to inflict pain on a woman. Never mind his own fiancé. Sometimes the horror of this job got to him. Today was one of those days.

He couldn’t understand why he was interrogating a victim over the murders of perpetrators. Of course, the BAU had a duty to serve justice. But, who had been there for Y/N?

How could the world be so messed up?

He couldn’t blame her for lashing out in anger following the trial. In fact, he would be more than willing to dish out a punch of his own if he ever ran into her former attacker.

She glanced up at him, her lips curving upwards into a sad smile as she observed the sympathy etched on his face.

“Angry?” She seemed to consider the word for a moment, before slowly shaking her head. “It’s hard to feel anything anymore Agent Alvez.”

Luke managed to tear his gaze away to turn back to his team who he had momentarily forgotten were concealed behind the window. In reality, he just wanted an excuse to steal a moment to compose himself. 

It hadn’t been the most professional interview he had conducted, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The exchange had left him too drained to worry about protocol.

Y/N hadn’t committed these crimes. She wasn’t their unsub.

Luke murmured his apologies, guilt rising within him as he thought about the pain of reliving her trauma must have caused her. However, she only seemed to be intrigued by his compassionate nature – even daring to brush her hand against his comfortingly as she stood up to exit the room.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re not what I expected Agent Alvez.”

[snarktheater]

Carve the Mark — Part 4 (Chapters 30-31)

FOR A TICK THERE was only her weight, her warmth, and relief.

I love it when these books have accidental moments of self-awareness and reveal where their priorities really lie. Which…it wouldn't even really be a bad thing to focus on romance more, but when your book is attempting to set up a whole universe and tell an engaging story about a dictatorship, focusing on the romance above all else is a bit of a distraction.

But hey, at least our protagonists are safe again. I know, it was a really pressing question for all three chapters where one of them was in actual danger.

Teka offers to have Jyo take care of Cyra, since she's still grievously injured and he apparently has medical training, but Akos refuses, because the renegades only saved her out of self-interest. Which is true, but I'm not sure what his point is, considering they're on a renegade ship full of renegade people and if they want to get something out of Cyra, they have every mean to force her.

But instead, Cisi steps in and offers to take care of Cyra, because she also has medical training. Funny how many characters suddenly have that as soon as it's needed. Also, yeah, calming powers, I guess she sensed how best to defuse the situation.

Of course, do we really need to defuse the tension when the book's constant obsession with the romance does it for her?

“Come on, Noavek, get it together […] My Cyra would have made at least two snide remarks by now.” “Hmm.” She smiled a little. “Your Cyra.”

Aw, I guess?

Of course, neither Akos nor Cisi can read Shotet, so they actually need Cyra to point out the stuff they need to heal her, because that's just so much more practical than taking any help from those dirty renegades.

…Wait, aren't the renegades, you know, the good guys? Or the closest thing to good guys we have, anyway? Well not anymore.

“You’d think after all that time in Shotet you’d have learned something”

You would, wouldn't you.

They banter, Akos gives her a painkiller that puts her under, and oh, I guess now is the right time to have Cisi tell us her backstory about becoming a doctor.

“It seemed like a good fit for my gift,” Cisi said. Ease was her gift—always had been, even before her currentgift came around—but it wasn’t her only one, he could see that. She had steady hands and an even temper and a sharp mind. More than just a sweet person with a good disposition, as if anyone was just that.

This character brought to you by the Veronica Roth school of Characters Only Have One Trait Ever, But We'll Pretend They Don't, Even If They Totally Do. I mean, seriously. If you wanted to make her seem multidimensional, give her a job that's unrelated to her gift, not one that is, but also happens to match other informed traits that we've never seen about her before (and, spoilers, never will see again).

Anyway. Cisi directs Akos into applying "silverskin" to the flayed side of Cyra's face, which is exactly what it sounds like: artificial skin that's…well, silver. And Akos has to do it since no one else can touch Cyra.

It didn’t take long. Mostly they would heal on their own, and the real trick for her would be forgetting how she got them. There was no stitching cloth for the mind’s wounds, real though they were.

It did indeed take a painfully short time to heal these wounds, to a point where I'm curious why you even bothered. Because it gives Cyra a cool, distinct look? As for the "mind's wounds", first of all, coping with trauma isn't forgetting it. And…well, you can guess that, as we're somewhere around the 75% of a standalone book, her trauma won't have much room for impact.

“Never thought I would be trying to heal Cyra Noavek,” Cisi said. “On a transport vessel full of Shotet, no less.” She glanced at him. “I can see why you like her, you know.”

Based on…the three glib remarks and the few insctructions she gave them? Or is Cisi commenting on her looks?

“Well,” Cisi said, “if you are destined to serve the Noavek family, I think you could do worse than the woman who was willing to endure all this just to get you home.” “So you don’t think I’m a traitor?” “That sort of depends on what she stands for, doesn’t it?” Cisi said.”

Didn't we…already reach that conclusion? Twice?

Cisi goes to find Isae, with Akos teasing her because they're apparently a couple, but it's going to take a few more chapters for the book to actually say it out loud. And I'll concede that we actually do have queer representation that's (mostly) sympathetic at last. It's very little, very late, but it's better than nothing. (And spoilers: unlike our token lesbian in Divergent, they don't die, so that's nice too)

Akos gets some moping while he's alone, until Cyra wakes up and berates him for coming back after all she did to get him out of Shotet. Which is…what, exactly? She struck a deal with the renegades, but the fact that they kept to that deal even after their assassination attempt failed mostly speaks to their characters, not hers. Unless she helped with the prison break, since the book still hasn't told us (and never will) how Akos escaped.

He comforts her in Thuvhesit, and that's apparently meaningful because it means they're on equal footing now, and so they get on with the kissing.

“Can I kiss you?” he said. “Or will it hurt?” Her eyes went wide. Then she said breathlessly, “And if it hurts?” And smiled a little. “Life is full of hurt anyway.”

Wow. Good echoing of that iconic line. I'm sure this will make it to the quote hall of fame.

…Please, don't send me fan creations using that quote. I'll choose blissful ignorance.

Their kiss gets interrupted by landing, but who cares, let's hop into Cyra's mind and think about how beautiful Akos is in spite of still being covered in blood and grime from the rescue and essentially performing surgery. Akos also tells her she looks good, because if she looks good to her boyfriend with her new artificial skin, then it's just like the scar never existed, right?

“And don’t think I didn’t notice the chancellor of Thuvhe standing in the next room.”

Wasn't it the point of Isae and Ori wearing veils in public to conceal their appearances so no one knew what they looked like? Well, I guess Cyra recognized her anyway. How convenient.

So. That landing. We're back in Voa, and finally, over 80% into the book, we get a proper description of the city. Better late than never, although…actually, maybe not? At this point I've developed my own image of the city, and since I had very few details to use, it ends up clashing with what's actually presented now. But hey, whatever, right? It's not like books have editors or anything!

They land on the fringes of Voa, in an abandoned apartment complex that no one bothers to go to ever, because who wouldn't waste perfectly functional (seriously, they still have running water and whatnot) lodging facilities in their capital city, right?

Oh, it gets stupider. See, the ship has a "hologram cloak" that Teka invented to look like an army ship. Which, okay, standard technobabble, but…why bother? It's not like this ship was ever established before. You could just have a stolen army ship. I guess it gives Teka something more that she accomplished? But again, that doesn't really detract from her One Character Trait (which is to say: engineering).

Cyra and Isae finally meet, with the book trying to give Isae hidden depths, i.e. make previous descriptions of Isae sound out of character. Or maybe the issue is that Isae's character seems to constantly change, and not in a developing character kind of way.

“I spent most of my life in a little cruiser vessel that smelled like feet,” she replied. “I’m hardly fit for my own company, by the usual definitions.”

Well, the two of them, plus Akos and Cisi, go for one of the apartments to speak in private. And by that I mean Akos helps Cyra get cleaned up first. And yes, it's awkward, even if she doesn't get fully naked in front of him.

I looked at the pile of clothes with some dismay. It was one thing for him to see me in my underwear, but to help me take it off . . . Well. If that was going to happen, I wanted it to be under different circumstances. “Cisi,” Akos said. He was also staring at the pile of clothes. “Maybe you should help with this part.” “Thank you,” I said to him.

Because it's much better if it's a complete stranger help you than the boy you are literally thinking about how you want to sleep with anyway, as long as the stranger is the same gender as you? Straight people, you are so weird.

In-between this nonsense (complete with Akos flatly stating that he has trouble keeping his eyes on her face, because ha ha, boobs), we learn that Cyra somehow still has her armguard hiding her kill marks, for some reason, and the book also tells us all about bras on this planet. Which…okay, why not?

Okay, there's also a nice character moment with Cisi regarding her gift, as Cyra asks her if it's hard to trust people.

“You don’t really ever know if it’s you they want to be around, or your gift.” “The gift comes from me,” Cisi said. “It’s an expression of my personality. So I guess I don’t see a difference.” […] “You want to keep people away,” Cisi said finally. “I’m not sure why pain is the way your gift accomplishes that.”

This is an interesting statement. Or it would be, if the book ever bothered to do anything with the currentgifts. So it's more…a hint of an interesting statement, that ends up never being made. But it's something. Which is immediately contradicted, of course.

“It’s strange. Usually I can’t speak this freely with anyone, let alone someone I just met.”

See, if the gift is an expression of her personality…then why can't she speak freely? Because that implies she wants to say something but is prevented by an outside force. A.k.a. her gift. If it's part of her personality, then she should just…not want to speak bluntly to people. Maybe it's just poor wording, but…well, this is a book. You don't get a pass for poor wording.

And with that, Cyra and Isae meet face-to-face, which is probably not as climactic as the book would like, since we barely know Isae, Cyra's power in Shotet appears to be nominal at best, and they don't really have any character contrast or conflict that would make this interesting. So instead they just exposit about what Ryzek may or may not do to Ori, and what they can do to rescue her, and whether they can trust each other. I'm pretty sure you can figure out most of that by yourselves.

Well, except for their plan. Which is: Ryzek will probably want a public execution for Ori to lure them out, so they should totally use that to get to Ryzek. To quote the Wheel of Time Abridged:

"I will be there. A trap isn’t a trap, if you know it’s a trap." "Like a chair isn’t a chair, if you know it’s a chair?"

Then we get another shippy moment, where Cyra tells Akos that her power has changed thanks to him.

“I don’t know what you want to call it, what we are to each other now,” I said. “But I wanted you to know that your friendship has . . . quite literally altered me.”

“You don’t know what to call it?” he said, when he finally spoke again. […] “Sivbarat. Zethetet.” One Shotet word, one Thuvhesit. Sivbarat referred to a person’s dearest friend, someone so close that to lose them would be like losing a limb. And the Thuvhesit word, I had never heard before. […] “What does it mean, ‘zethetet’?” […] “Beloved,” he said softly.

Well on that very important note, let's have Akos's mom crash the party by literally crashing a ship in their apartment complex. That seems like a good place to take a break from the nonsense.

[jabbers-written-world]

Brightwire, Excerpt One

Meeting Cassius Regulus, of the Sunspire

A note on this, before we get started. This particular excerpt from my novel-in-progress entitled Brightwire, is one of my favorite pieces I’ve written to date. I love when characters in books have these almost dramatic, impressive introductions, without it being an overly flashy entrance that’s almost.. Well, almost akin to something out of an over-the-top superhero comic. Don’t get me wrong, I love superheroes as much as the next guy.

But you don’t need a wild, flashy entrance with a cool cape and crazy light show to leave an impression. The trick is all about characterization. The five methods of characterization, particularly.

Number One: Physical Description

How would this character be described. A lot of writers struggle with this, simply because there is a fine line between over-describing someone, and not describing them enough for the readers to have that understanding of who they’re supposed to be envisioning.

Find the balance, and try to keep it simple. But not too simple.

First feature you notice at a glance, i.e. eye color or skin tone or if they have any significant scars

Style of dress. This says a lot about a character, without actually saying much at all.

Are their clothes neatly tailored and close-fitting? Do they keep their clothing clean and well-maintained? Or perhaps their shirt is halfway hanging out and has a few stains? Already you’re making assumptions about two separate characters just by that, aren’t you.

What color clothing do they were? Bright colors? Or more neutral tones? Does it go well with their skin/hair/eyes? Or does it clash horribly? Again, you’re making inferences and assumptions, huh.

Body posture. This is another important one that tells a lot about a character just by the way they stand and hold themselves.

Do they slouch? Or stand up straight? Do they perhaps stand a little too straight and maybe seem a little stiff? Or maybe they’re slouched a bit, but it’s intentional and calmly relaxed?

Posture is all about attitude and how you view yourself/how you want others to see you.

But it’s also sometimes affected by mood, or physical exhaustion or stress, or even age.

Age. This is not a requirement, but it is a fun tool to play with, especially because the age someone appears might not always be their actual age.

Old does not mean wise or experienced.

Young does not mean immature or ignorant.

Do not overshare. It’s not necessary to go in-depth in long paragraphs of description. A little nod here and there to certain traits, and that should cover it.

Number Two: Action

How do they move? This ties in as well with physical description, especially owing to posture and the way someone carries themselves.

Action does not have to be obvious and direct. It can be subtle, too. Something small, like the twitch of a finger, or the flick of an ear if perhaps your character’s species allows for that (I have been known to do this with elves)

But there are also certain mannerisms and behaviors that are significant, and very definitive to a character.

Gait. How to they walk? What is their pacing? Fast? Slow? Do they have a limp? Perhaps they walk with a particular bounce to their step?

Hands. Do they move their hands often? Or do they keep them still? Some people are hand-talkers, they subconsciously make frequent gestures and are very mobile when speaking. These people also are often a lot more open and chatty as well.

Shifts in their mood. How does their body language reflect their mood? If they’re more reserved, perhaps they simply get noticeably more tense when upset, especially around the shoulders. Or perhaps if they’re very open, they start to bounce or move around in excitement, maybe they’re a hugger! (Not so fun for the more reserved characters around them, that one, lol)

Sitting. This is a fun one I really like to play with, because most don’t think of this as really any sort of action, but it is there and it does a lot to describe people.

How do they sit? Do they take up a lot of space? Or do they minimize themselves to be the least inconvenient possible? Perhaps they cross their legs? And if they do, how do they cross them? Wide cross, one leg over the other? Just crossing the ankles? Or if they don’t, are they spreading themselves out? Or are they keeping their knees touching together? (See how this works to describe people?)

Number Three: Inner Thoughts

This. This is another one some writers struggle with. Mostly because it’s hard to keep to one perspective and get everyone’s thoughts expressed. At least, if that’s what you’re going for. Third-person omniscient writing comes easier, because well, yeah. You get to go inside everyone’s head and know what they’re thinking. But, this can go really wrong too, because sometimes you’re getting jumbled around and there’s too many people to keep track of, and.. Yeah.

Third-person limited writing. It’s tougher than omniscient, yes. But it can be a good way to streamline things, and keep a centralized focus on one main character. And this is where the trick comes in for understanding the inner thoughts of characters.. whose minds we can’t just peek into.

Use expressive features to show thought, and have your protagonist interpret for the reader. Does your elf character have ears that express their feelings like a cat? Perhaps those ears just flicked back in what seems to be annoyance. Uh-oh. Now your protag has to be careful. Their elf buddy looks annoyed, and it might be because of them.

Have the protagonist vocalize and initiate. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ ‘Are you mad at me?’ Oftentimes, this can get some dialogue going to get an easy peek into what that other character might be thinking.

Or you can have the protag stay quiet, and just read the body language. Even the most stoic of characters will have their tells for what’s on their mind, and you just have to look for it.

Eyes. Never underestimate the power of a look. The eyes are powerful tools, and even if a character is blind, their eyes can and will still show their thoughts to an extent.

Number Four: Reactions

Here’s where it really gets fun. Like with the protagonist interpreting another’s thoughts, this is all about what other characters think, and how they respond to whoever you’re introducing to them.

Are they intimidated by this person? Do they get angry when they see them? Or are they excited just by hearing that person’s name?

Let your characters react organically. This can give a lot of insight into some history of the characters in general. If someone reacts poorly to the mention of someone else, that could mean they have a bad past with that person. If they react positively, then maybe they’re old friends who missed each other.

Background characters. These folks are important too, and often they get brushed aside in favor of the central focus. But they react too. What do they think of a negative reaction from a primary focus character? Do they know anything? Is this common knowledge? Or perhaps they’re shocked. It can do a lot to set a scene and add to the history if you let background citizens have their thoughts too.

Reactions also apply to physical descriptions too. Are they disgusted by how someone dresses? Or are they jealous of how well put together they are? Do they see this person as ugly or attractive? Have fun with this, and let characters be real.

Number Five: Speech

Ah, yes. My favorite bit of character work. How do your characters speak? This does a whole lot to really bring a character to life for your readers, and make them interactive for the other characters in the writing.

Accent. Does your character have an accent? Is it noticable? Perhaps they sometimes get misunderstood because of a thick accent.

Vocabulary. Big words, or short statements. A character’s vocabulary can say a lot about their level of education, and the environment they grew up in.

Language. Are they well-spoken, or do they just sort of let the words fall where they will? Maybe they have a tendency to pepper their speech with more.. colorful linguistics and come across more crass and aggressive. Or perhaps they hardly even know what swearing is and their innocence comes through in their fluffy little curses.

How does their dialogue stand out from the other characters? Straight and proper? Cool and casual? Bumbling and enthusiastic? Poor english? Amazing grammar? It’s all up to you.

And now, without further ado, I’d like to post this little excerpt for you guys, so you can get an example of how I use characterisation in my introductions to bring characters to life, and I hope you all enjoy it.

“I need to speak to the captain of this ship. It’s important!” She was already growing exasperated as she stared up at the man before her. He frowned and shook his head, grabbing another stack of crates to load on board.

“I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t help you.”

“Do you even understand? I said it’s important!”

“He understands perfectly, young lady.. But he does not have the authority to refer you to the ship’s captain.” She turned to face the source of this new voice, and almost immediately, her eyes were caught by his piercing golden gaze. It was like being caught frozen in a single moment, his eyes locked on hers, and she couldn’t bring herself to look away for what felt like an eternity. When she finally did, she soon found herself noticing his ears. Pointed, almost knife-like.. And his skin.. A deep, rich, tawny brown, like he was loved by the sun and the earth itself. But it was that that truly gave her pause yet again.

“You’re.. an elf..” She finally managed to utter just those words, and he quirked an eyebrow at her, as if she was dumber than dirt for even speaking.

“Yes. Such an astute observation..” Oh, he absolutely thought she was an idiot. She could tell just by the tone of his voice, but.. Everything she had ever been told about elves, all described them the same way. Fair skin, and either blonde or dark-haired. But here he was. His skin was earthen, warm brown tones, in such stark contrast to everything she’d ever been told, and even more blatantly in contrast with his shockingly snow white hair. Finally, she recovered herself, and a scowl affixed itself rather effectively upon her features yet again.

“If he can’t direct me to the captain, then I suppose you can.”

“Assuming I’d have interest in doing so, yes.”

“Well, do it. It’s important I talk to the captain!”

“Young lady. You already are.” Again, she was frozen, staring at the elven man. This time, though, it wasn’t because of his features, but his words. As she finally took notice of the crisply tailored red jacket he wore, not to mention the crest emblazoned on his breast pocket and the peaked cap upon his head, she couldn’t help but feel just as foolish as he clearly thought she was. He was the captain, and she was making a total spectacle of herself.

[ghost-town-story]

Let’s Dance Like Old Times

The very air seemed to hold its breath here. This was a place of old magic and ancient creatures, and only those who were truly desperate would dare tread here. 

And that description fit Aiden perfectly, he thought wryly as he made short work of stripping his clothes. 

Leaving them in a neat pile next to his backpack, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and jumped into the pool. He fell quickly, down, down, down, until his toes sunk into the soft sand at the bottom of the pool. 

A chuckle reached his ears, but he didn’t dare open his eyes yet. Something slashed at his neck, and Aiden couldn’t help his reflexive gasp at the pain. He was relieved when he didn’t choke on water, the magic immediately taking effect. 

“Well well little fire mage,” a voice purred. “I never expected to see you again. Didn’t you find what you wanted?” 

“I did,” Aiden said, finally opening his eyes. 

In his home world, she might have been called a mermaid, though far more spiny and scaly and terrifying than most would like to believe. When he had called her that, the first time they met, she had hissed and corrected him that the term was waterkind, thank you very much. 

“Then what brings you back?” Her tail flicked lazily under her as she regarded Aiden with half-lidded eyes. 

“Can’t you guess?”

Aiden knew she enjoyed the banter, as she bared her teeth in the facsimile of a smile. “You’re desperate.” 

“Aren’t we all.” 

The waterkind laughed, the sunlight dancing off her scales as she tossed her head back. “Yes, you silly humans usually are if you’re visiting me,” she chuckled. “So tell me, little fire mage. Why are you here? What do you need to find so desperately you’ll pay my price again?” 

“Two things.” 

“It’ll cost you.” 

“I’m willing to pay.” 

“Oh I know.” Her grin was predatory. “So what is it, little fire mage?” 

“I need to find Starfire.” 

“Your dragon companion has fled Ilasea?” 

It was more of a statement than a question, but Aiden still nodded. 

“And I need a way to get my magic back. Preferably without needing Ashe.” 

“Your former mentor?” 

“One of them. He took my magic and I need it back. Please.” 

His voice cracked slightly on the last word. He was so close. He couldn’t bear the thought his magic was gone forever. 

The waterkind hummed, looking thoughtful. 

Aiden held out his wrist. “You know my questions. Now take your payment and tell me.” 

The waterkind shook her head, and Aiden felt his heart jump into his throat. 

“You ask difficult questions,” she purred, swimming closer. 

Aiden didn’t move despite every instinct screaming at him to put distance between them. He couldn’t help a shudder though as she ran her claws along his neck. 

“And for those,” she continued, “it needs to be closer to the source. Understand, little mage?” 

Aiden barely nodded.

“That’s my price,” the waterkind purred in his ear. “Are you willing?” 

“I’ve come this far. Would I say no now?” Aiden tilted his head to the side. 

“Some do,” the waterkind murmured. 

Any response Aiden would have given was cut off as the waterkind sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. Blood magic was powerful of course, why else was he here, but damn it hurt. 

The waterkind released his throat, licking at the blood that was undoubtedly trickling from the wound. “You’ll find both answers you seek in the north,” she murmured against his skin. “The dragon cannot return to her kind, but she is drawn there nonetheless.” 

“And my magic?” Aiden asked. 

“You’ll find both answers you seek in the north,” the waterkind repeated. “Your magic is tied to the dragon. Find her and your magic will return.” 

“Just like that?” 

The waterkind sighed, pressing her lips to his neck for a moment. “She holds your magic,” she eventually replied. “And once you come into contact with it again, it’ll return to you.” 

Aiden nodded, dislodging the waterkind. “Thank you.” 

“In a hurry to set off, little fire mage?” The waterkind drifted back, licking at the blood that stained her lips. 

“I’ve lived ten years without my magic or my dragon,” Aiden answered. “Can you blame me for being anxious to get them back?” 

“But what about your third answer?” 

Aiden froze. “I never asked a third question.” 

The waterkind grinned, her teeth sharp and bloody. “He’ll come to you,” was her cryptic answer. “Sooner, rather than later.” And with a flash of scales, she darted off into the rocks. 

Aiden didn’t have the strength nor speed to chase her down, and he thought he knew who she was referring to, so he instead swam for the surface. Now he just needed to find Starfire in the north. He hoped it would be an easy task.

James read the note left, then looked up at Basil and nodded. “It’s here.” 

“Any special instructions?” Basil asked, edging closer to the pool and peering into it’s impossibly blue depths. 

“Doesn’t look like it.” James folded the note and slipped it into his backpack to join the many others there. 

“Alright.” Basil slung his rifle off his shoulder. “Why are so many of these stupid portals in water?” 

James mustered a weak laugh at that. 

“See you on the other side.” Basil shot James a grin, then hopped in. 

He sunk down, deep into the pool before he felt the telltale wash of magic, then he was in a dark room full of boxes. Basil silently cursed, cautiously moving away from his starting position, rifle up and ready to shoot if necessary. 

As he was making sure the room was empty, he heard the sound of water, and a glance told him James had followed him. 

“Safe?” was the only thing James said. 

Basil finished his lap of the room, making his way back to the other man. “For now,” he said. “But I don’t like this.” 

“Neither do I,” James admitted, glancing around nervously. “Did you see a note?” 

Basil shook his head. “One can’t be far though.” 

Before they could get looking though, they heard footsteps echoing outside the door. Basil just had enough time to raise his rifle before the door slammed open, and Basil found himself looking down the barrel of a gun. 

“Let me tell you, having a portal lead to your storeroom is real fucking annoying,” a voice grumbled.

Basil blinked. He sounded so familiar for some reason. 

“Now put down the fucking gun and we can talk like civilized people, okay?” 

“Says the one also threatening to shoot.” Basil reluctantly lowered his rifle, but kept it at the ready. 

There was a long pause, then, “Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw.” 

“Isn’t that a Heathers quote?” James murmured to Basil. 

“Basil fucking Hendrickson, is that really you?”

Basil tensed up. “How do you know me?” 

The stranger lowered his gun and flipped on a light in the storeroom, and Basil gaped in shock. The man was in his late sixties, but there was no mistaking that distinctive scar on his neck, mirrored by a tattoo, nor the style choice of a leather jacket with a flannel shirt tied around his waist. But Basil couldn’t be too sure. 

“Show me your arm.” 

The man raised an eyebrow. “Alright.” 

He stripped the jacket, revealing his left arm was covered in bandages. Before Basil could make further demands though, the man unwound the bandages to reveal an old scar on his left forearm.

Basil blinked, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “Jay?” he breathed. 

“The very same.” Jay grinned. “It’s been a long time Basil.” 

Basil dashed across the space between them, his rifle clattering to the floor, long forgotten as he threw himself into Jay’s arms. Jay grunted with surprise, but wrapped Basil in his arms. 

“I never meant to stay away so long,” Basil mumbled into Jay’s tattoo. 

“I know,” Jay whispered back. “We knew Baz. We understood.” 

Basil wanted to stay here forever, but he was on a mission, and so finally reluctantly extracted himself from Jay’s grip. “Jay, this is James. James, Jay.” 

“James Milo Lunacen?” Jay asked, picking up his discarded jacket and slinging it over his shoulder. James started in surprise, and Jay laughed. “Yeah, Aiden told me all about you.” 

“Aiden?” James breathed, his eyes shining with hope. 

“I’m assuming your Aiden. Heller, right?” 

James nodded. 

“Alright then,” Jay said. “Come on, I’ll make some coffee, you two can get dry, and we can all get on the same page here.” 

Basil grinned and snapped his fingers, drying himself off with magic. 

“Showoff.” Basil knew Jay was rolling his eyes behind his tech goggles, though he was grinning. 

“This is the first world I know I can safely use magic in since I left, fuck off,” Basil shot back, drying off James. 

“Oh you haven’t changed a bit,” Jay said fondly. “Come on. Coffee time.” 

It was gradual, but Aiden eventually became aware of the fact that the natural forest sounds were dying away. He was approaching something dangerous, something the creatures of the forest were afraid of. Aiden only hoped the danger was Starfire, and not some monster he had no hope of fighting as he was, magicless and defenseless except for his small knife. 

Aiden pushed through a wall of bushes to find himself suddenly free of the trees. Looming ahead of him was the Dragon Ridge, still as dark and forbidding as they had looked when he was sixteen. 

Aiden stared at the tallest peak, eyes searching for a flash of movement. Are you there Starfire? he wondered. Are you up there on Stormking, with your family again? 

A low growl distracted him from his thoughts, and Aiden’s gaze snapped back down to the ground. There was no rustle of leaves indicating the danger was behind him, so Aiden let his sights focus on the boulders littering the ground around the base of the mountain. He crept closer, knife held at the ready, on alert for another indication he was in danger. 

There was another snarl, this time accompanied by the clatter of rocks, and Aiden swung towards the noise to see what he had missed before, the entrance to a cave where movement was stirring in the depths. 

Not for the first time, Aiden wished for his magic back, if only to throw a light in the cave to illuminate the danger. Instead, he was forced to wait for the creature to reveal itself. 

And slowly, it did, with a flash of ruby and crystalline scales. 

Aiden gasped, nearly dropping his knife. “Starfire!” He ran towards his dragon, sheathing his knife as he went, but she snarled and snapped at him.

“Hey, it’s just me,” Aiden soothed, but he stopped short, wary of her sharp teeth. “Look, I know it’s been a long time, and I’m so sorry, but I’m back Starfire, and—Hey!” 

Starfire lunged for him, and Aiden barely dodged her snapping jaws. 

“Starfire! It’s me!” 

His words seemed to have no effect as she made to bite him again. 

Aiden danced away, pulling out his knife, though he was painfully aware of how little protection it afforded him. “Stand down,” he said, his voice full of confidence and authority he didn’t feel. 

Starfire snarled at him. 

“Stand. Down.” 

Starfire’s tail lashed angrily, and that’s all the warning Aiden got before she leapt for him again. 

This time, she managed to catch Aiden’s arm in her teeth. Before she could go any further though, Aiden had his knife under her jaw, where he knew the scales were soft and easily moved aside and he could hurt her. 

“Don’t make me do this Starfire,” he pleaded, eyes stinging at the pain coming from his arm. “Please girl, I don’t want to do this. Let me go, and I won’t hurt you.” 

Dragon and man stared at each other for a few long moments, then Starfire gently released Aiden’s arm. Aiden hissed in pain, but he kept eye-contact with his dragon as he slowly made his way around to her side. 

Starfire growled again.

Aiden dropped his knife, holding up his empty hand. “Let me get this off you,” he said softly. 

Starfire’s tail twitched, but she made no move to attack him. 

Aiden took that as consent, and moved closer to remove the saddle still on her back. He cursed softly as he dragged it off, seeing where the straps had cut into her sides. Somebody had tried to ride her after he left, and never took her saddle off again. 

“I’m sorry girl.” He almost laid a hand against the raw, angry wound, but thought better of it. There was nothing he could do for her right now.

Aiden pulled the saddle away from Starfire, finally settling down where the rocks turned to grass again. Starfire stared at him with narrowed eyes. “At ease girl,” Aiden tried to joke, but she didn’t move, didn’t relax her tense, angry posture. 

Aiden sighed. He tried. 

Instead, he focused on bandaging the bite on his arm before rifling through his saddlebags. He was pleased to find his weapons still there, the old magic still working to keep them clean and in working order. Everything was just as he left it, except…

Aiden pulled a jar out of the saddlebag. “What’s this girl?” 

Aiden held it out to Starfire, but she just snarled at him. 

“Okay.” Aiden was confused by her behavior, but instead focused back on the jar. 

It was filled with what seemed to be liquid flames, burning blue and gold and red. They seemed familiar, but in a twisted way, like from a nightmare he barely remembered. 

But Aiden had always been too curious for his own good, so he opened the jar. The flames, which had been softly sloshing around, now became agitated, trying to escape. A few droplets splashed against Aiden’s skin, and he hissed as it burned, bringing back memories he had tried his best for forget.

Ashe’s hands covered in liquid flames as his blood turned to ice. 

Tied down, helpless, unable to do anything but watch as Ashe pulled his magic from his body. 

“Oh this better be what the waterkind was talking about,” Aiden muttered, then poured the flames over his uninjured arm and legs. 

The burning was immediate, and Aiden gasped with the pain, dropping the jar. But as the flames clung to him, racing across his body, Aiden saw his old tattoos returning, the marks he’d made to amplify his magic. 

Aiden looked up at Starfire, tears blurring his eyes. “It’s back,” he gasped. “It’s back Starfire.” 

He felt, for the first time, the gentle brush of Starfire’s telepathy. Aiden? 

“It’s me Starfire,” Aiden laughed through his tears. “Here.” He stood unsteadily, the last of the flames winking out across his body as they sunk into his skin, and he pulled out Starfire’s scales. “I think these are yours.” 

Starfire blinked, her golden eyes going wide in surprise. 

Aiden carefully used his magic to remove the metal from the scales, then held them out to his dragon. Starfire gently pressed her nose into his palm, and the scales skittered from his hand to her body, slotting back in to the places they had been taken from. 

“Who did this to you?” Aiden asked softly, running his hand along her scales until he made it to the wounds in her sides. 

The traitor, Starfire snarled. 

“Ashe?” 

Yes. 

“Then we’ll make him pay,” Aiden said grimly as he healed his dragon.

Basil lightly knocked at the door, and when no answer was forthcoming, carefully opened it. As he expected, the bedroom was empty, the balcony door wide open and curtains fluttering. Basil crossed the room to the balcony, finding Jay leaning against the railing, a lit cigarette dangling between his fingers. 

As Basil stepped out onto the balcony, Jay reached down without looking and tossed a can of something at Basil. 

Basil easily caught it, opening it and taking a swig as he joined Jay at the railing. He sighed in contentment. “Haven’t had one of these fuckers in over five years,” he said. “You’ve kept some around for me this whole time?” 

“Of course,” Jay said, looking out to the horizon. “You said you’d come home. We never doubted you.” 

Basil hesitated, but he needed to know. “Jay, where’s Sky?” 

Jay was silent, taking a drag of his cigarette. 

“Jay, I need to know.” 

“I know you do.” Basil had always hated the way he was entranced by the smoke curling from Jay’s lips as he talked. “But it’s hard to know how to tell you.” 

“She’s gone.” 

“Yes.” 

Basil felt his chest constrict. “How?” 

“It was an accident, in her lab. I tried so hard to save her Baz. I tried so many times to save her.” 

“Jay.” Basil laid a hand on Jay’s shoulder. “You said so yourself. It was an accident.” 

“I know.” Jay sighed, taking another drag of his cigarette. 

“I should have been here for you.” 

“Did you try to get home? When you were ready?” 

“Yes,” Basil whispered. “But I fell into their world, James and Aiden’s, and it was so hard to escape from. The doorways were so fleeting and temperamental and fragile and it felt like I couldn’t escape.” 

“Then you did everything you could,” Jay said quietly. “And you’re here now, and you know.” 

Basil nodded, and the two stood in silence for a while. Basil finished his drink. Jay burned his cigarette down to the filter. 

Finally, Jay dropped his cigarette into his ashtray, then held out his hand to Basil. “Come on. You deserve this much at least.” 

“Deserve what?” Basil took his hand. 

Jay’s answer was with his magic, enveloping Basil and dragging him away from the present. 

When their surroundings cleared, they were in the living room, lit by late afternoon sun. A younger Jay was on the couch, his legs tangled with Sky’s. Basil felt tears blurring his eyes yet again. They were his age. Or, the ages they should be relative to him now. 

Past-Jay looked up from the screen of his tech goggles, and Basil knew he made eye contact with his present self. Past-Jay nodded, then closed his screens and sat up. 

“Jay?” Sky asked, looking up from her book.

Past-Jay stood and held his hand out to Sky. “Ready for some time bullshit?” he asked. 

“Okay?” Sky was smiling as she took past-Jay’s hand and stood with him. 

She blinked. “Basil!”

Basil looked at present-Jay, who let go and stepped back, and that was all the invitation Basil needed to pull the young Sky and Jay into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry it took me so long to make it back.” 

“As long as you’re happy Basil,” Sky murmured into his chest. 

“Yeah.” Past-Jay gently headbutted Basil. “And hey, you make it back to us eventually.” 

But Basil could see the haunted look in past-Jay’s eyes. He knew Basil didn’t make it back to Sky. 

“So, how long can you keep this up?” Basil asked either Jay. 

Present-Jay answered. “A bit. I’ll let you know when we have to go.” 

Sky shook her head. “No talking. Just hugs.” 

“Okay.” Basil was content with that answer. 

After what felt like not long enough (forever wouldn’t be long enough), present-Jay coughed. Basil reluctantly let go of his two younger partners. 

“Oh Basil,” Sky sighed. “I’ll see you in the future, okay?” 

“Yeah.” Basil kissed her forehead. “Stay safe Sky.” 

“Of course,” Sky giggled. 

Past-Jay nodded solemnly at Basil, though he mustered up a smile for Sky’s sake. “See ya,” he said. 

“Same to you kiddo,” Basil smirked. “Stay safe. Make sure he still exists.”

Past-Jay rolled his eyes. “Will do.” 

Basil felt present-Jay grab his shoulder, then Jay’s magic flared and faded, and they were back on the balcony in the starlight. 

Jay sighed, settling back against the railing, weariness etched into every line in his body. 

“Thank you,” Basil whispered. 

“Of course.” Jay dug his cigarettes out of his pockets and lit another one. 

Silence fell again. Jay eventually broke it. “You’ll go with him, when he leaves to follow Aiden.” 

“Don’t sound so sure,” Basil scowled. 

Jay raised an eyebrow at Basil. 

“Don’t claim time fuckery, you can’t be sure about this!” Basil insisted. 

“This has nothing to do with the time bullshit,” Jay claimed, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Rather, I know you Baz, and more importantly I know myself.” 

“You can’t force me to leave.” 

“Baz, what do you have to stay for?” 

“You!” 

“And you’ve missed a good forty years of my life. I won’t let you stare that guilt in the face every day for the rest of your life.” 

Basil knew a fight he couldn’t win. 

“You two can stay a few days,” Jay waved his hand vaguely. “You can wrap up any lose ends you feel you still have, and I’ll give that rifle of yours an upgrade. Then, James goes after Aiden, and you go with him.” 

“Jay.” Basil reached out in the space between them. 

Jay took Basil’s hand in his free one. “You promised to come home, and you kept that promise,” he said. “Now go live that life you’ve found out there.” 

Basil knew he couldn’t change Jay’s mind, and moreover, he didn’t entirely want to. Jay did have a point. 

“Mkay?” Jay squeezed Basil’s hand. 

Basil sighed. “Fine. But for tonight…” He trailed off, not entirely sure what he wanted to ask of Jay. What could they do in one night that would excuse the forty years Jay and Sky had spent without him, that would make up for the lifetime Basil would live without them? 

Jay set his cigarette in his ashtray before standing up straight and pulling Basil close. “For tonight,” he repeated, looking up at Basil. Despite the age difference between them now, he was still shorter. 

“Let’s dance like old times.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[nan-does-a-teach]

Length

“Help me Nana! I can’t figure out how to make my replies longer without it feeling off, or I just have trouble thinking up ways to make it longer. Or-” gasp- “I’m nervous I’ll somehow make it too long!”  Well my child, let me start of by saying I *highly* doubt you can make a reply *too* long. However if you’re worried, then you should always ask your roleplay partner if it’s alright or ask their general preference! Now let’s crack them knuckles and get that knawledge. How do you make a reply feel more full? How do you help convey your character more? The answer is... (drum roll please).. movements, thoughts, and environment.  You can add a lot of depth to your character by describing the way they move, what they’re thinking during times of interest, and (if you’re leading the roleplay) what the environment around you and your partners characters looks like, feels like, smells like. Say your character is a nervous wreck of a person, yes you can imply that in dialogue with stuttering and the like- but it’s really easy to *over* stutter to the point that it just looks way too fake and like.. gaudy.. in a sense?  Bad example: He waves “H-Hi.. I-I’m N-Name-k-kun” Good example: He gives a short wave and then hunches his shoulders and wrings his hands together “H-Hi.. I’m.. uh.. n-name..kun.. nice to meet you?” as he speaks he glance to and from Character-2, afterwards chewing his lip. Look at that, there’s already more meat to the reply, and it *feels* more like a person- which of course is the real goal. Also, on the matter of stuttering you should note that stuttering isn’t something that always happens at the start of a word and it isn’t happening constantly. Sometimes “stuttering” is forgetting a word and repeating it or even saying it wrong first and then repeating it, or it can come in the middle of words more. Those who stutter due to anxiety are likely to draw out the pauses between their words more and say “Uhh” as filler a lot as well, so keep that in mind! “Well okay but how do I figure out how to add all that extra stuff?” That is an excellent question me pretending to be someone else asking questions that perfectly fit this thread! Think about your character as if they were a real person, how would they react to things in certain situations? Think about *yourself* in those situations, what would you be doing, how would you be moving, where would you be looking? Or avoiding looking perhaps? How would you feel, and how would your feelings affect you? If you can’t think of movement input then consider another physical input. Example: He gives a wave, his heart racing so fast with anxiety and nerves that he felt his voice give out and quiver as he spoke  “H-Hi.. I’m.. uh.. n-name..kun.. nice to meet you?” it was.. cringe worthy, though he did his best not to outwardly show that, and hoped against hope that the other person wouldn’t see it. This is still a rather *physical* response in pointing out the racing heart and such, while mixing in a heavy dose of emotional response. If you want less emotion and more physical, then think of how anxiety affects you personally. Maybe your thoughts blank out or scatter a bit and you think of what you say but forget to say one part of it because your brain is rushing ahead just trying to get it out. Maybe you feel like your blood is ice in your veins, *describe that feeling* (though obviously not too much if it affects you to the point that it’s harmful for you)  How do I mingle in character thoughts without interrupting the flow of my reply? What are potatoes made of? Ignoring the second, iRRELEVANT, question. That is a bit harder to answer, there is no perfect way to go about any of this, you have to try and you *have* to make mistakes and learn. If you want to make the thoughts obvious as thoughts you can always italicize them and add a he/she/they think/s before or after the thought. Just think over your response and what’s around it and make a personal call for it. How do I learn to better describe an area? How do I describe an area at all? Well to answer the second question first, you can always look up rooms that fit the idea in your mind and then go about sharing and describing them! As for the first one, there’s actually a writing exercise on that where you set a timer and then once it starts you look around the room and describe it as you see it first, so if you need practice then do that! If you still aren’t sure how to start then or are worried about going overboard by describing all the little details, then try to describe the layout first. Example: the room was rather small and overflowing with objects, there was a long table covered in crafts and a desk covered in various odds and ends. Clothes and rugs hide the hardwood floor mostly from view and the bed sat on the ground. Posters dotted the walls and lights lined along them near the ceiling, the only two windows in the room had blackout curtains. Overall it was a hot mess. Welcome to my room lmao. You don’t suddenly know exactly what it looks like but you’ve got a good enough feel for it that you should be able to build off of it, and then if another character decides to check out a specific area you can launch into a description of specifically that. Ex: Character 1 looks over the desk curiously.  He/She/They would see it’s an absolute mess with various notebooks and an art case, as well as a tub of clay, some strange ball- they may recall seeing it on tv years ago and remember it was called a “fushigi” ball. There was a treasure chest latched shut and a shoe box, a wicker basket full of yarn, and a hairbrush- as well as plenty of other odds and ends. Here I described quite a lot on my (actual real life art table lmao) and gave you a good idea of how messy it is. If you really read into it I probably also told you quite a bit about me, but even if you don’t it will subtly affect what you think of me. Always keep your character in mind when describing their space. Are they mess? Are they organized? Did they clean before the other character came over? Are they a messy cleaner, or do they get down on hands and knees with a toothbrush and go ham wild? What sort of things do they have laying out, why would this character have that? Even if you never get to explaining *why* a character has something, you should always have a reason ready in case it’s questioned, and because it makes *you* question it. Maybe they just thought it was neat- that implies they’re a bit impulsive (especially if it’s an item they bought) impulsive enough to just take or buy whatever it is for no other reason than to have it. Bird brain it.