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chaithetics · 6 months ago

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frothing at the mouth for any norm fics

Gaps of Sunlight

Pairing: Norm Maclean (Fallout) x f reader Word count: 4.5K Gif by @klausbens Warning: Barely proofread, pining, longing, maybe a little fluff and angst? a jab at Chet's weird crush, this is set before the events of Fallout S1 so some 'foreshadowing' I guess but doesn't have any spoilers! Mitski inspired! A/N: Ask and you shall receive 🙏(translation: thank you for enabling me!!!) This is my first time writing Norm and it's the most fun I've had with writing a fic in a long time! I feel like I'm a more descriptive writer and I haven't had an idea flow like this in quite a while. I feel like this is similar to 'Porce and the Shark' in terms of writing? Idk how well this flows as a story lol?!?! I've barely written any angst and I haven't really done any yearning, so I hope this is good! So please validate, I just felt like I was never going to finish or/fix it enough so I thought I'd post it as is. Thought about the queen of angst, @inknopewetrust's work a lot when I started writing this. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated 🫶

You lay in bed as you couldn’t help but think about it all. Once again. You could go outside to the corn fields but all that could offer you was a projection from a time and place well before you were even conceived as an idea. You’d never really know what the sunlight felt like, how it would heat your chin and what it would be like to bathe in that light. You had tried to live vicariously through that with what approved, classic literature had survived the war and through the vaults. Shakespeare didn’t offer you much beyond metaphors that were just out of your grasp with relatability to your environment, you hadn’t particularly enjoyed Chaucer, an opinion you’d kept from your father. While the Brontë sisters were able to perfectly let you know what rain in a different continent would’ve felt like against your face and how it would’ve smelt and made your shoes feel to run across an English countryside, they never enlightened you about what being bathed in sunlight would feel like. There were only so many times you could read and annotate Homer’s works awaiting a revelation.

Despite how everyone else moved around Vault 33, it was impossible for you to not help but wonder more of life. What it all was, and what it all meant.

You pull yourself out of a possible mental spiral and quickly get ready for the day as it eases on just as every other day does in the Vault. There’s breakfast with a pleasant conversation with your family, and you teach English classes to the youth of Vault 33, you participate in other extracurriculars just like most of the other Vault dwellers but teaching takes up the bulk of each of your days. You don’t mind that at all though, you enjoy it, even on days where everything feels like a complete rut. The mornings when the blue of the vault suits feels like too much, the pleasantries feel more like programming than authentic connections.

It had started like every other day and classes had happened accordingly, there was now the communal reprieve of lunch. As you slowly chew you look up and see him across the dining hall, despite being from the poster-perfect vault family, he’s Vault 33’s very own black sheep, Norman MacLean. He’s sitting there silently while his dad and Lucy are happily chatting away. Each taking turns trying to lure him into conversation, which he rejects each time with a quick, blink and you’ll miss it shake of his head. The same expression he always wears these days and has for years is etched onto his face, a chronic look of apathy.

You can’t help but stare at him for a moment, watching the way he looks on almost blankly. Even from across the room, you can see every thought in those brown doe eyes as if he’s saying them aloud. How is it that he’s still so misunderstood?

You’d grown up with Norm, he’d always been nice to you, even when you were at school. But that wasn’t exceptional, that was the whole thing with vault-dwellers, being nice people, even from a very young age. It’s not exactly a melting pot of cultures in the Vault like you know the surface once was but the culture is to be nice, chirpy, and practical.

Norm was nice, he had a quiet charm, he’d be a good politician, just in a different way and style as his father, he was practical but he didn’t have a cheery disposition. He lacked enthusiasm and at times it seemed to almost fascinate him how much that little rebellion could bother people. He didn’t put himself out there and you remember how he was smart, he knew answers to the questions that were asked but he’d never put his hand up for them.

It made you wonder at times if he was scared of his own voice. You feel your eyes squinting as you look at him wondering that question, as if studying his jawline for another minute or watching him lift his fork up to his mouth will tell you.

With a deep breath, you tilt your head discreetly to look around to see if anyone noticed your infatuated staring but nobody seems to. You still put a polite, chirpy smile on your face in case anyone did. That should be enough for anyone to notice anything your eyes might’ve been betraying.

Your mind still stays on him, because as always, you might see him better than anyone else but he is still a puzzle with pieces you have yet to find the corners to.

You’re sitting near the cornfield, trying to live vicariously in a world that’s not yours, one that will always be out of touch, just trapped into ink on a page and repeated for the ears of children, to fulfil a mission. But it’s his voice that pulls you out of the inner world of classical Greek horrors.

“Sunny day today.” He says as he looks down at you as you sit on the chair and look at his standing form. He says it as if it isn’t sunny every day with that projection meant to convince you of what the surface once knew and not instead fall flat and be more reminiscent of golden Hollywood-esque crops on sets of the films that have survived. Norm’s voice is quiet, he’s just as soft-spoken as you remember him being so long ago. His tone is bored, but it doesn’t deter you, how could it when he’s standing in front of you looking into your eyes?

He looks into your eyes, taking in the colour, worried that someday he could forget the flicks closest to your eyes. They might rearrange if he doesn’t look at them for another ten seconds to appreciate them. He could forget them. But he never would.

“Just like your disposition.” You quietly tease, offering him a shy smile.

Just as if it’s somehow not always sunny, a rare occasion worth being spoken about, so is his unchanging character. But beyond adding in a couple of cups of more confidence perhaps, you don’t think there’s much else that could be worth editing.

“And for that exact reason, I’m surprised I’m getting a job transfer with the reasoning being my enthusiasm levels.” He says with a breathless chuckle.

You tilt your head as you look up at him, he’s still standing, the toe of his shoe almost toying with something invisible on the artificial emerald green grass. You’d put your thumb in your book when he’d arrived but now you put your bookmark in and gently close it. Placing it gently on your lap.

It hadn’t been that long since you’d both finished your education, having had jobs and duties in the vault was important for its efficiency and functionality. But still, this wouldn’t be Norm’s second job. You were still the teacher you’d been assigned at the start of your adult life, most people in the vault only ever had one job, sometimes they would change and so have had two in their whole life and of course, there would be a change of two or sometimes three for overseers, but three while still being so young was very rare. You had questions and internal crises about this world all the time, there was always a moment somewhere in your world that you felt slightly out of place. But still, contentment had found a way to settle in your bones much easier than it did for him.

“What were the enthusiasm levels?” You ask quietly, slowly blinking. You already know the answer.

Norm looks down at the ground, at the grass he could tug out and it would just never grow back. No matter how desperately everyone would want to pretend it would. His foot is so close to yours, mere inches away, the toe of his shoe could just brush against yours and no one would know.

“Nought.” He says with disinterest, he slightly shrugs his shoulders as his eyes stay planted on the ground.

“Something will stick eventually.” You say.

You say stick, you don’t say that there will definitely be something he loves or that it’ll all be okay, it’s not what he wants to hear and you don’t know if there’s a role in this world that you both live in that would fulfil him as much as his father is fulfilled by being Overseer. He appreciates that. But he needs to change the subject.

“Is a literature teacher always reading?” He questions as if it’s a riddle that might amuse him.

“More likely to happen than finding them counting.” You say as you tilt your head. You don’t remember the last time he approached you for conversation, or the last time that he did and there were this many words. It would’ve been back when you were younger, still classmates. You can’t track an exact memory down which surprises you.

“So, what’s that one?” He asks looking at the book in your lap for a moment before his eyes slowly gaze back to your face, making eye contact for the first time in over a minute. You can’t help but feel your cheeks heat up at this. You feel seen as his eyes rake up and take in every facial feature and unique mark on you.

Everyone makes a false and fatal assumption about Norm. They assume that because he’s not extroverted and over-the-top warm like Lucy or Hank, that he’s not charming. That’s complete crap. You know it’s false. He’s not the same as his family or a lot of the people in your home vault but without a doubt, Norman MacLean oozes charisma. He knows just when to turn it on and how to utilise it in the best way with each person. And right now, it’s working on you.

“The Three Theban plays, by Sophocles.” You whisper as your eyes bore into him, you don’t dare to blink. Too scared that he might just disappear if you do, and that when your eyes open again, this will all be confirmed as another of one of your many daydreams about him. “They’re tragedies, I’m reading Antigone, at the moment.” You feel yourself latching each word onto the next word as if you’re climbing a ladder and need to build more rungs at the same time, there’s some intrinsic need in you to draw this out for just a few more moments. His presence gives you some kind of glow. You finally blink, your eyes not able to hold it anymore, he’s somehow still standing in front of you once your lids open. You immediately wonder if you’ve said too much and try to fight the urge to sigh but the urge to not let on how embarrassed you feel is more of a priority, you need to keep that internal.

“And what has that taught you?” He asks with a small smile.

Someone else might’ve found the tone cold. If someone else had asked that exact question, it might’ve felt condescending. But you know exactly what it is.

Norm knows better, not better than you, he’s not that kind of arrogant. It’s because he’s always known that he knows better than most in these reinforced concrete and metal walls you all live in. But you live in a meritocracy. Everyone is in constant pursuit to be kind and to better and upskill as a contributing member of Vault society. Of course if someone’s openly reading it’s an academic pursuit, to be more well-read, that they can learn an important tale and moral lesson, or to use it as a quote to whip out at a convenient time in a council meeting or for intellectual criticism of another philosopher or writer’s thesis. And you both know it’s why each book that was chosen for survival by Vault-Tec was carefully curated, all in the name of intellectual pursuits and other reasons beyond either of your imagination.

“Just further proof why we have rules against familial relations.” You reply after a slow blink, you remember what his sense of humour used to be like in class, how teachers would occasionally stifle an eye roll and sigh or would take a moment to then replaster their smile back on. You look at him, and your eyes can’t help but take in the shape of his nose as if you hadn’t already committed it to memory a thousand times before now.

“Hah.” He says quietly, as if it’s amusing, which he finds to be a little as he lets out a small chuckle and his mouth quirks up and that makes you happy. It’s an expression that doesn’t grace his handsome face often. “Might need to pass that on to Chet, if that’s the case, I doubt he’s read it.”

You let out a chuckle at that, and Norm’s brow furrows for a mere second as he takes you in. His mouth is still in a small smile but not many people find his humour to actually be humorous, his father and Lucy love him but he earns more small sighs and tired smiles from them than anything close to a laugh.

“I’ll let you know when I’m done with this copy.” You reply with another slow blink.

You watch his mouth, mentally tracing his lips with your eyes as he sucks his lips for a moment and nods, his eyes dropping to the ground again. It’s only then that you realise how close the toes of your feet are to each other. He couldn’t be looking down because of that, or thinking about that though. You are cursed to yearn in silence. “Appreciate it.” He says with a small smirk as he looks up at your eyes, he raises his eyebrows slightly to replace any verbal goodbyes and he walks off.

Norm leaves you as he found you minutes before, all alone in false sunlight with a book in your hands. You still haven’t found the missing puzzle pieces.

It had been four days now. Four days since you’d had that conversation with Norm, there had been plenty of stolen glances, and a few returned smiles when your eyes met across corridors or the dining hall, but Norman MacLean was still, one of the only things occupying your mind.

You wouldn’t complain, why would you? How could you when the fact that those glances, and snippets of conversations were now a supercut in your head that provided comfort whenever you started to get into another emotional crisis about vault life and what the history was that had brought everyone to this point. But still, you couldn’t help but sometimes worry over this yearning. How unrequited it could be. How unrequited it felt.

You felt a hunger in the pit of your stomach each time that you saw his shadow, each time you two made eye contact you couldn’t help but feel as if it was a caress on your skin, even though the only time he’d touched you was to help you up when you’d fallen over outside when you were seven. He’d insisted on being the one to put the excessive amount of band-aids on your grazed hands. Hank had stood back and watched, finding it endearing, how concentrated Norm’s face was at such a young age. Maybe they should’ve thought about trialling him in medicine, but no, he probably still lacked the desired enthusiasm during the first-aid training vault-dwellers did.

You were seated with your family for a council update, everyone gathered to sit on the folded chairs, you and your family were always extremely punctual, you sat with them on one side while the other was still a row of a few empty seats.

As people slowly trickle in you see Norm come in, he looks mentally fatigued as he looks around, you turn your head to face your family so you don’t catch his eye in hopes of him not noticing your stare. How pathetic would he think you are if he saw you looking at him like a wide-eyed puppy, begging for love? You can imagine, but you don’t want to know. After a moment you hear somebody sit down next to you, the chatter of people finding seats fills your ears but you don’t hear any from whoever sits down. You feel their arm brush against yours, you know it’s nothing but you instinctively turn to see who it is and to give them a polite and welcoming smile.

It’s Norm. Of course, it’s Norm. But why is it? He’s just facing ahead so he hasn’t acknowledged you yet, although you’re sure he can see your smile and look in his peripheral vision. “Hey.” You say quietly in a warm voice as you look at his handsome side profile, he shouldn’t look that good. His face shouldn’t be so perfectly sculpted. “Hi.” He says quietly as he tilts his head giving you a small look that seems dramatically playful which makes you smile, and let out a silent chuckle. Norm’s face turns back ahead to face the front where his father now stands and the council sit. Your eyes follow his gaze and you turn back in your seat to look straight ahead as Hank MacLean starts his updates in his usual down-to-earth, selfless leader tone.

You can’t help but wonder if this is a sign, him choosing this seat, you even wonder if his arm brushing against you was intentional as he sat down and then again you wonder if you were being crazy for wondering that. As Hank’s words go on to fill the air, they don’t really fill your head, that’s too busy being at full capacity with thoughts of Norman. You rub your chin after a moment, hoping the feeling of your fingertips and nails against your chin might create a sensory distraction. You get a completely different kind of sensory distraction when his arm gently brushes against yours as he leans back in his seat, he adjusts himself so that your shoulders are touching and you can feel his arm against yours. You can’t help but silently gasp, hoping he doesn’t hear it and your breath traps itself as you hold your breath. Feeling far too scared to move. It has to be intentional, you look at him through the corner of your eye as you try not to move. He’s still looking ahead, his expression unfazed as he looks at the people in front of him but he’s still sitting in that position. He hasn’t moved his arm.

It’s intentional.

You try to breathe again as your cheeks heat up, and you bite the corner of your lip. The feeling of his arm against yours sends shivers up your spine and you can feel the warmth of that small point of contact radiating throughout the rest of your body.

The connection you feel with Norm is deep and for the first time in quite a while, this simple gesture of touching arms makes you wonder if these years of yearning maybe aren’t unrequited. You feel your shoulders start to slowly rise and fall again at this thought, this movement hasn’t disturbed Norm away. A smile grows on your face like the corn that’s picked around the year, as you smile and look ahead. The meeting continues like this, it isn’t till the end that you lose that gentle, physical touch, sweet connection that you long for as Norm gets up and leaves to carry on with his day, you smile as he stands up, he gives you as small smile and walks away. You’re now touch-starved all over again, and you think it feels more hollow after feeling a touch from him.

Maybe one day it won’t be just your arms touching but instead your hands, your hands will brush against each other and then your fingers will interlock together. You’re better at camouflaging but you’re certain that your souls are made of and connected by the same things.

It’s been what feels like an eternity since you felt Norm’s simple touch, it’s occupied every thought and been the reason behind nearly every smile since it happened. The question is though, has it been haunting Norm at all? You know he isn’t seeing anyone, secrets like that don’t exist here and it would certainly be talk with how introverted Norm is.

Hours is the amount of time you’ve spent trying to think of a reason to approach him but nothing feels right and you decide against it anytime you get close to it. You try to find any excuse to visit him and the one you can think of is beyond pathetic, and you know that.

You find another copy of a collection of plays and decide to give it to Norm, for him to decide whether he wants to read it or to fulfil a bit. It’s not a good reason, but it’s the best you’d been able to come up with. And at least with the book in your hands there would be some comfort in the pages, the smell of them and the remaining dust that haunted the corners that had been facing the wall. It can ground you and be something to hold onto anxiously while you make a fool of yourself. Norm conveniently answers after you’ve knocked at the MacLean family unit. He looks at your face and raises his eyebrows slightly, his face switches from an apathetic expression to one a bit warmer. “Hey.” You say, smiling at him but you think it must come off as panicked and scared as you look at him with wide eyes and feel an anxious parasite growing and feeding off of you in your brain.

“Hi.” He says as he steps back letting you come into the unit. You walk in, and it’s nice and tidy but it’s the same as essentially your family unit and every other unit in Vault 33. You blink as you look around for a couple of seconds and your eyes land back on him, he’s been watching you the whole time.

“After Lucy?” He asks and you feel your cheeks heat up, you liked Lucy, she was an extremely lovely person and you did consider her a close friend. “No.” You shake your head, the admission makes you feel like coming here was an even worse idea than what you thought it was just a few minutes ago. “I brought a copy of tragedies, in case you needed any dark reading, or wanted to… pass them on…” You continue and bite your lip for a second.

Norm lets out a little chuckle that shakes his shoulders for a second but it’s borderline silent, almost not real. He looks into your eyes and takes a step closer, you’re not sure if he’s going to do the hospitality script you learn from a young age of offering a glass of water or cup of old Joe.

Instead, he quickly steps closer and Norm places his hands on the back of your neck, you sharply exhale and you know that the hair on the back of your neck is standing up. The feeling of goosebumps on every inch of your skin overwhelms your senses as his lips finally crash down.

His lips are slightly chapped and you can feel that against yours, the fine lines and cracks as they press against your mouth. There’s nothing you can do but melt into his touch as you’re overcome with warmth. But there isn’t anything else you’d want to do anyway.

There’s nothing else you can imagine feeling that feels this good. You kiss him back instinctively and put your hand into his hair as he deepens the kiss, his hair is soft and you run your fingers through it as you feel his tongue, and it’s a clash of your mouths against the other.

You immediately wonder if the physical warmth of where your bodies come into contact, his breath against your face, his warm lips, and the warmth that envelops you internally is what sunlight feels like. This feeling basks you in what you imagine would be similar to being basked in the light of sunrays would.

You don’t know how long this lasts, it feels like a sweet lifetime but still deliciously short as you kiss and feel his hair while his hand is gentle on the back of your neck. Like all things, it eventually ends. You look at each other with widened eyes and pant as your lips are no longer in contact. Your cheeks heat up and you almost want to giggle. You see his face is flushed and his eyes shine, you think it’s adoration but you could be projecting.

“My dad will be back soon.” He whispers knowingly as his eyes look glassy. “Oh.” You look around as if that’ll help you feel more composed. You weren’t expecting this to end so abruptly, this felt like something straight out of a dream and now it was a cold end, something want to shapeshift into a nightmare. You know you should leave, you’re feeling far too flustered to try and have a conversation with Hank and you know this isn’t a conversation Norman wants to try navigating around with his father. “We um… Well, we need to talk…” You breathe out.

He smiles and whispers your name, the tone is reverent as he says each syllable. “Not now.” His eyes look a little less glassy but it’s still a visible sheen and you can see it, the sun has withdrawn a little.

“Not now?” You repeat, it comes out as a shaky question though as you feel every muscle in your body tense.

This is rejection, this is what puts all those protagonists you’ve read of into a depression that only the seaside can cure if anything can cure it. Being in this vault, you don’t think you can ask for cornfield projections to change to windy cliffs with waves crashing and the artificial grass to be replaced with manmade sand. You’d always wondered about the sunlight but now you’d have to wonder what sand from a beach felt like as well.

“No.” He whispers. “That isn’t fair. Tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.” He blinks and his cheeks are flushed as he looks at you.

“When?” “Maybe when you finish the book, not a copy, your book.”

“Not a copy?” Your face scrunches up, as your brain runs screaming.

“No.” He answers. “Yours probably has thoughtful annotations or something right?” He asks.

“Or something.” You whisper back.

“I’ll read that.” He says.

You nod, as you pick up the spare copy and walk out from the MacLean unit, you don’t feel like you’re controlling your body right now, it must be some form of muscle memory. Maybe you need to read and reread every book in the vault to further investigate if what you just felt was sunlight. Or, you wonder, are you still under gaps of sunlight, missing Norm more than anything?

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lavendertales · 1 year ago

Text

SEÑORITA: Chapter 7**

pairing: Javier Peña x Murphy!f!reader

summary: following your fallout with Steve, you find yourself on Javier's doorstep.

word count: 6.4k (oops)

series warnings: reluctant friends to lovers, lots of playful banter, mutual pining, slow burn, secret relationship, filthy smut.

chapter warnings: face sitting, body worship, piv (safe).

A/N: here we are ya'll, the long awaited explosion of the slow burn hehehe. thank you so much for all the comments and the love, it means so much to me 💕I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well, and feedback is always much appreciated!

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

series masterlist | AO3

You would’ve preferred to sit down inside your apartment in order to have this conversation rather than wander aimlessly on the hot streets of New York at almost midnight with your brother, but the surroundings are less important than the issue at hand.

Steve offered to buy frozen yogurt for the two of you, and fight as you might, you were persuaded to eat a little bowl of strawberry cold goodness. The two of you sat down at this little place on the corner, both clearly too uptight to initiate the conversation. So you clear your throat, exhaling slowly and steadily, and braced yourself.

“Steven—“

“I’m sorry.”

He blurts out the words as he stares at you, his eyes big and regretful.

“I’m so sorry for not supporting you more,” he continues, putting down the spoon. “And for not taking more of an interest in your hobby. It clearly means so much to you and I… I know I was a dickhead.”

“If you’re waiting for me to disagree it’s not going to happen.”

Steve chuckles, huffing.

“It’s more than a hobby, Steve,” you tell him. “In an ideal world where money wouldn’t be a thing, this would be my dream job. I’d do nothing else but write, travel and eat food all over the world. It’s why I took a job at the library. It’s the closest I’ll ever be to achieving that dream.”

“That makes me sad.”

“Made me sad too. But this is reality, and denying it won’t do me any favors.”

“You were always so much more mature and rational than me.”

Surprised, you make a face at him, unable to contain yourself. You’ve never heard such words from your brother.

“Me?” you say with a light chuckle escaping from your lips. “The eternal dreamer?”

“Yeah. Sure, you like to picture fictional worlds and get lost in them but you never lose sense of reality. You’re neither optimistic nor pessimistic. You just… live in the now.”

“You know… I’m actually really close to getting my own book published.”

Steve’s eyes widen further, his face revealing nothing but sheer excitement at this point, and the sight softens you; so much so that you smile involuntarily, rather flustered to finally share this news with him.

“That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you!” he nearly shouts.

“Thanks, thanks. You’re the third person I tell this to.”

“Third?”

“Javier and Sylvie know.”

“Oh. I see. Is it based on Star Wars? Or inspired by it?”

You frown. “No, you doofus, it’s my own story. If I were to publish a fanfiction for Star Wars, I’d definitely get sued by George Lucas.”

“Kind of defeats the point of writing it, doesn’t it?”

As happy as you felt a minute ago, you feel just as dumbfounded now.

“The point, again, is creativity,” you reply. “You start from there and you build towards your own independent stories.”

“Isn’t it a waste of time? I mean why not start right at—“

“Oh my God! You’ve been this way since we were kids. You always thought you’re superior, whether you realized it or not.”

“I didn’t. And I didn’t mean to insult—“

“You never mean to and yet you still do.”

Steve watches you stand up, hands on your hips and munching on your lower lip in what can only be described as anger finally bubbling up at the surface.

“Mom and dad always sung your praises because you chose to do things logically and fit into society while I was a bitter disappointment for spending time alone in my room, reading and writing,” you say. “You finished high school and went straight to the Academy and mom and dad couldn’t have been prouder. Me? I finished high school and went to study literature in college and it still wasn’t good enough.”

“Nobody ever said that, you know it’s not true.”

“They didn’t have to say it. I could see it in their eyes, the way they spoke. I was the weirdo who needed a social life while you were their beloved Steven, making his way into the real world at such a young age, being so brave. Mom and dad never stopped thinking there’s something wrong with me and they didn’t hesitate in telling me that with every chance they got. Passive aggressively but still.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know. I know that now. It took years of therapy to realize that.”

Steve watches you closely, filled with unrelenting guilt. He’s never seen you this decisive and mad, but he knows deep down he’s had it coming. All of the things he wished for your relationship are slowly going down the drain and he begins to fear that if he doesn’t say the right thing now and try his hardest to be here for you, he will lose you forever.

“I never meant to treat you any way other than with respect,” he says, his voice oddly hoarse. “I know I’m pushing things a lot of the time and I exaggerate and I have no right to intervene in your personal life, but it only comes from a place of needing to protect you.”

“I can protect myself, Steven.”

He huffs, grabbing your wrist and thus urging you to sit back down. “Do you remember in seventh grade when that group of idiots picked on you while you were reading on the playground? It rained heavily the day before and they snatched the book from your hands and threw it into a puddle, ruining it.”

“Yeah, I—I remember.”

“And then you told me that one of them, the bigger one, came onto you that same afternoon and forcefully kissed you. I had him suspended.”

“What—how?”

“I may have… broke his nose and threatened him to worse if he didn’t go to the principal’s office to confess to both forcing himself onto you and to bullying you.”

“Oh my—you never told me that.”

Steve shrugs. “Pretty sure that was the moment I started to be mindful of the guys that were around you. And when you got annoyed and purposely started dating the worst guys you could find, things have gotten wild.”

“You can say that again.”

You both chuckle.

“You know, the fact that you confided in Javi about your book before me or Connie is a bit hurtful,” Steve admits.

“Do you know why I told Javier first? Even before Sylvie? Because he asked me. It’s that simple. He took an interest in my passion and he actually cared about it. Hell, he turned my Star Wars story into a real book. He made it into a book just for me because he knows how much it means to me, and how much writing means to me.”

“He what?”

You nod. “Yeah. He didn’t mock me, he didn’t assume he knows better than me. He even encouraged me to keep going, which is how I’m close to finishing the editing part of my book faster than I anticipated. And this from a guy who was a complete stranger to me three months ago. You keep saying that Javier is your best friend but you don’t seem to treat him that way. You treat him like he’s bad news, like you didn’t go through all that shit together in Colombia. You need to get your shit together. Javier is a really good man. A good friend, and an overall good person.”

“I know he is, I’m just worried about him too like I’m worried about you. He hasn’t been the same since we came back from Colombia. It changed him in ways that I… I don’t know. I have Connie and Olivia and I feel so lucky but… he keeps to himself. He barely allows anyone in so I don’t know what it’s like inside his head. I was just so worried that you’d both rush into something you might not be ready for and end up hurting each other.”

You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath for quite some time, but you certainly hadn’t felt the need to breathe, not in this moment when years of anger and misunderstandings culminate in the most honest sentences either of you have ever spoken to each other.

“Even if we did rush into a relationship or casual dating or whatever, it still wouldn’t be your call to make,” you remind him. “It’s not your decision, it’s mine and his. We’re both adults, tip-toeing around each other and around you because you have this weird protection fetish.”

“It’s not—“

“You know what I meant.”

“I—I’m really sorry, sis. I just wanted us to be closer. I went the wrong way about it, I know that.”

“You did. Trying to intimidate your best friend and controlling whoever your baby sister is around is not the way to go about this. You pulled the same shit in high school and look how that turned out.”

“I was worried about you, about both of you.”

“And you had reasons to, I’ll give you that. But now there is none. I’m okay. And Javier can talk if he feels like it.”

“You don’t know him the way I do.”

“Maybe not. But you don’t know him like I do, either.”

Steve calls out your name once you get ready to leave.

“Whom I date is none of your business,” you retort. “Not even if that someone was your best friend. Which is not. So cut it out already and get your shit together. If you can’t accept this, then leave me the hell alone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate it. And I appreciate what you did for me that time in the seventh grade. I really do. But I need some time before I can truly forgive you.”

Javier hadn’t expected the erratic knock on the door at this hour, and he certainly hadn’t expected to be met with the sight in his doorway.

You look just as lovely as ever, though you do seem to be a little tense. He doesn’t ask; instead, he looks you over and welcomes you inside, waiting for you to offer some explanation for your late visit, already perilous enough as it is.

“I know it’s late, I’m sorry,” you coo. “I just—this was the first place I thought of. Didn’t wanna be alone in my apartment.”

“It’s okay. What happened?”

“Why do you assume something happened? Can’t a friend pay a visit to another friend?”

“They can, but not with that expression on their face.”

“What expression?”

“You look like you’ve been run over.”

You frown, distancing yourself from him even further.

“I’m your friend, I should be able to tell you this without a problem,” Javier adds.

“No, you sure can. Thank you for the fine observation.”

“Glad I could be of service. Do you want a drink?”

Say no, your mind screams at you, almost begs. You shouldn’t be drinking, not when you’re feeling vulnerable after the raw conversation you’ve had at long last with your brother, and certainly not around Javier.

It’s not that you don’t trust yourself. You know what you can and can’t handle.

You’re simply afraid the liquor might provide you with the courage to finally tell him exactly what’s on your mind, and that you might end up being rejected. Something tells you Javier might choose loyalty and rationality over his feelings.

He keeps to himself, Steve told you.

“Little bit of whiskey would be nice if you have it,” you eventually reply, catching both Javier and yourself off guard.

“Didn’t know you drink whiskey.”

“I don’t. Not really. Only when I need something really strong.”

“I take it the conversation with Steve didn’t go that well then.”

Fucking hell, how does he do this? How does he intuit things about you without you even saying or hinting them?

“It did. I think,” you smile as a glass of amber liquid is being handed to you. “We talked things through, I told him my piece… he apologized. And he meant it, I could tell.”

“He’s an honest guy, and he means well.”

“I know he does. He only ever wanted to be there for his baby sister and to be a good friend, but he’s taken things too far. Which he’s acknowledged.”

“Color me intrigued and shocked.”

You smile, hiding the gesture in the glass and stealing a glance at Javier. An unfamiliar warmth surrounds you, wraps you in a blanket of confusion and longing that you’re certain you haven’t felt up until now.

“So how come you ended up here then?”

“I don’t know. I just… stormed off, told him I appreciate his apology but I need some time before I can fully forgive him.”

“While we’re at it…” Javier clears his throat, lowering his now empty glass, “I’m sorry too.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

“You didn’t cause this.”

“I feel like I kind of did mess things up though. I’m quite good at it.”

“Javier…”

“What?”

You lower your glass too, reaching out to take his hand which he hesitantly accepts. “You’re not a bad guy. In no way, shape or form. Trust me on this. I know them pretty well. And you don’t fit in that category.”

When you smile at him, so sincere and bright, Javier pulls back his hand, chugging the rest of whiskey and focusing solely on the way it burns his throat.

And yet when he thinks of the way his body feels when you’re around you, that all-too-familiar burn is nothing compared to it.

“If I wouldn’t have taken this job, maybe things wouldn’t have been this way between you and Steve,” Javier mutters.

“Things between me and Steve have been rocky for years. They would’ve probably continued to be tense if you hadn’t pushed us to talk. Involuntarily, of course. And besides, if you wouldn’t have taken the job… I wouldn’t have met you.”

“I don’t know anyone whose life was better for having known me.”

“There is someone I can think of.”

Javier briefly gazes at you and quickly wishes he’d evaporate. It feels too much, far too consuming to even maintain eye contact with you on account of all the fear, the impossible yearning, the confusion and the—

No. stop it. This is not that.

“Anyway,” you resume, feeling a bit short of breath yourself, “I don’t think Steve wanted me to meet you in the first place.”

“That kinda makes me wanna get back at him.”

“Me too. And you know what would show him?”

Javier raises his brow, already anticipating and dreading the answer before it ever leaves your mouth.

“If we hooked up,” you smile wickedly.

He cocks an eyebrow, his interest peaked and his stomach all twisted in knots. “That so?”

“Mhm. We could let him stew in doubt, let him guess.”

“How would we pull that off?”

“Well, since we already agreed actually doing it is out of the question, a light touch on the arm when we’re all together, gazing at each other from afar, smiling… a kiss on the cheek, stuff like that.”

Javier has no idea when he finds himself in your close proximity again. All he knows is that he’s sitting on the chair next to you, leaning in yet again, cursing his own inner demons for fighting a losing battle, and his breaths betraying his restlessness.

“The buildup to a kiss is the best part,” he coos, and you swear you shiver for a second. “One of them, anyway.”

“Is it though?”

“Yes. What kind of jackasses did you date in the past? Jesus Christ.”

“The worst I could find.”

Against his better judgment—if there was any of it left—Javier chuckles, forcing himself to look at you.

“The moment you look into each other’s eyes and lean in, that’s where it all starts. It’s simple but it’s really powerful stuff. Heart beats faster. Breaths get shallower. At some point your eyes sort of drift away to the other’s lips, wondering what they taste and feel like. And then, when you finally feel bold enough to lean in more…”

You close your eyes, Javier’s faintly whiskey-infused breath all warm and tingly over your lips, and you wait. What you receive in return is a phone ringing though, so you instantly pull away, opening your eyes again and noticing the same expression on Javier’s face as you assume is on yours: desperation.

“I—“he starts, but you shush him immediately.

“It’s okay.”

We shouldn’t anyway, you think.

“Hello?” Javier practically groans into the telephone. “Hey, Con.”

You turn towards him on instinct, curious about the subject matter between the two, though you shouldn’t be; you know exactly what this is about, and at this late hour nonetheless.

“No,” Javier answers in an unusually dark and steady voice, eyes locked on your figure. “She’s not here.”

You look at him, utterly taken aback, and you gulp.

“Have you at least heard from her?” Connie inquires at the other end, unbeknownst to you. “She had a talk or a fight or something with Steve and now he’s worried. He says he called her apartment, went there and there’s no answer. It’s a whole thing.”

“I haven’t heard from her.”

“Javi…”

“Look, Con, with all due respect and care, she’s a grown woman and Murphy needs to stop babying her. She’s perfectly capable of making her own choices and seems to me that right now she doesn’t want to be found. So whatever you think it is that I’m doing…”

“I’m not thinking anything. Should I?”

“We’re… friends.”

“Have you noticed that whenever you say that, the pause between ‘we’ and ‘friends’ gets bigger?”

Javier frowns and blinks several times in a row, dumbfounded. “What?”

“It started out as ‘oh, we’re friends’ but now it’s more along the lines of ‘oh. We’re… sigh… friends’.”

“I sound nothing like that.”

“Javi. Come on.”

“I told you, Con. She’s not here tonight. Wherever she is, I’m sure she’s fine. She just wants to be left alone for a bit.”

“Well if you hear from her—“

“Yeah. Goodnight, Connie.”

Javier hangs up, frozen in the same spot. He knows that now there is no going back and that he’s in deep shit, but truthfully he only gives a damn about your well-being.

Everything else is tomorrow’s problem.

“You lied,” you coo.

“Fine observation skills.”

“Thank you.”

Javier stares at the ground, processing his own words and thoughts. Ever since he left Colombia, he’s all but tried to always do the right thing, the honorable thing and be a respectable man in today’s society. Not the Javier that worked with one of the most gruesome groups in the world for the greater cause, not Javier that bent the American embassy’s rules to fit into his scenarios, but a new Javier that was good and learned from his mistakes.

And now, every time he looks at you, he feels himself falling deeper into temptation, on the verge of making another mistake. Only this one might not be so easy to fix.

“Don’t thank me,” he mutters, pacing around the living room. “It was stupid and selfish. Obviously Connie knows you’re here and Steve’s gonna know and the whole thing’s gonna blow up in my fucking face.”

You notice him purposely avoiding your eyes and you reckon by the edgy way he’s marching through the living room that there are dozens of things on his mind now, if not more.

“Javier.”

No answer, more pacing.

“Javier, look at me.”

Still no answer, slightly less pacing.

“Why aren’t you looking at me? A minute ago you couldn’t stop looking at me when we were about to—“

“We were about to do nothing.”

“Right. I just—“

Then, Javier turns to you so abruptly it startles you for a second. You watch him walk towards you with a look on his face that you can’t quite put together. But it doesn’t intimidate you, nor does it scare you. On the contrary: it rather makes you want to hold him and be with him.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his chocolate, soft eyes now glued to yours.

“I’m not—I’m not doing any—“

“No, you’re fucking consuming me. Eating me alive from inside out. And looking at you… whenever I look at you, I feel my promise to Steve break. I feel myself break, I feel… I feel the way I did back in Colombia, all fucked up and twisted and you don’t deserve that.”

“You never talk about it. Colombia.”

Javier purses his lips, holding his breath. “Sometimes it feels like I never left. Like it’s hell all around me. But then I think I can’t possibly be in hell cause you wouldn’t be there otherwise.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, your cheeks scorch with flattery and your body only craves more.

“Instead, you’re… here,” Javier continues, somewhat distraught. “You’re here and you’re… warm and fun and… alive. And your scent… I can’t get it out of my fucking head even if I know I should, I really should. Fucking… lavender, ruining me. And I just… I was hollow back there. I was dark and a jackass and… not as half as honorable as I thought I was, or that I’d be. I did shitty things, bad things. Colombia twisted me in ways I can’t revert. But I want to be better now, I want to be worthy, ironically because of you and for you. So looking at you feels like the most incredible thing in the world and the worst.”

You inch closer, breathless from the words that have been thrown at you, so raw and heartfelt.

“Did you ever kill a child?” you ask, and you can see the surprise on Javier’s face as the question is being processed by him.

“No.”

“A woman?”

“No.”

You nod once, slowly, inching even closer to him. “I thought we’re friends,” you whisper.

“We are, which is why I’m saying this with respect and care. Being your friend is killing me.”

“You said I’m not your type.”

“Apparently I was wrong. So very wrong. Apparently… you’re the very thing that I want. Pathetically desperate and… so fucking needy.”

Your skin is on fire by now, your throat dry and your mouth practically drooling.

“Javi,” you manage to get out.

“No, don’t—don’t do this to me right now.”

“Don’t do what? What are you—“

“Don’t say ‘Javi’, not like that.”

“How should I say it then?”

Javier’s eyes drop to your lips, and all of a sudden he’s unable to look elsewhere, consumed entirely by the unholiest thoughts he’s ever known.

“I got some ideas,” he whispers, his tongue wetting his lips.

“Mind sharing them with me?”

“I can’t.”

“But I want you to do this to me. There, verbal consent.”

Javier cocks his head to the side, thus exposing his neck and you’re feeling more parched than ever.

“The things I could do to you…” he mutters as if strictly to himself. “The things I could show you…”

“So show them to me. Show me… you.”

“Fuck, I want—“

“What do you want, Javi?”

The way you said his name, fully aware of the effect it has on him now and how much it messes with his mind, it makes Javier unable to think straight and certainly unable to resist you. In what can only be described as an act of insanity, Javier’s hand boldly rests on your waist, barely touching, and yet enough for both of you to feel the heat radiating from it.

“I want to do this right,” he says. “You’re not a random hookup. I—I wanna take you out to dinner, get to know you and be with you.”

“Dinner sounds nice.”

“Tomorrow night at seven?”

“Okay.”

In an even more insane act, you decide to move closer to him so that your lips press against his stubbled cheek. The touch is tentative, meant to be appreciative and thankful, but in the end, it only acts as a detonator to an already short enough fuse.

Before your brain properly understands what’s happening, you feel Javier sliding down your body until he kneels before you and wraps his arms around your legs and look up at you.

“Show me how to be good,” Javier mutters, and it shocks you to your core. “Show me how to be good, for you. Please.”

You open your mouth, and yet nothing comes out. Your mind must’ve short-circuited because no words come to mind except Sylvie’s from many weeks ago.

Mark my words, this Javier is gonna be on his knees before you, asking you to teach him how to be good.

Then you’re gonna be in big trouble, missy.

Damn you, Sylvie.

Still tongue-tied, you place your index finger beneath Javier’s chin, thus signaling him to stand back up. He follows obediently, staring at you once more and waiting, his heart in his throat.

Finally, at long fucking last, with chills creeping up your spine, you cup Javier’s cheeks and press your lips against his.

And good lord, is this the softest kiss you’ve ever had in your entire life.

It’s languid, tentative at first, as if you’re both waiting for each other’s reaction to it, but within the following seconds, the kiss turns sloppy and heated, betraying your eagerness.

Javier’s hands wrap around your body expertly, and he hums into your mouth, the sound going straight into your cunt almost soaking you on the spot. This is the part of relationships he’s actually really good at, something he’s very confident in, so he wastes no time in guiding you to his bedroom, leaving a wet trail of kisses down on your neck as he plops you on the bed, him atop of you.

“If you want to stop, you gotta tell me now,” he warns, his voice as dark as his eyes. “I mean, we can stop at any point, but if you don’t—“

“I want this, Javier. I want you. I don’t want to stop.”

Javier groans, his mouth back on yours and seemingly devouring it whilst his hands roam nervously on your body. There’s dampness between your legs, and you have the urge to rub your legs together in an attempt to hide the slickness, but when you feel a calloused hand grabbing the back of your thigh, gently squeezing it, you part your legs as if to make enough room for him. And he does; Javier grinds between your legs, beginning to undress you with so much determination it’s causing your head to spin.

By the time you’re topless and writhing beneath him, you’re begging for him to touch you some more. You’re begging for his hands, his mouth, any part of him that he’s willing to give to you, and Javier obeys without a single objection in mind.

“Lift your hips for me,” he instructs, and you do as he says.

Your pants come off, then Javier’s eyes stop on your underwear, already eating you up with a single look.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” you hear him say, and you shiver.

It’s you who pulls him back in for a kiss, and it feels like the most maddening, enticing and damnable thing in the whole wide world. One of Javier’s hands reaches in between your legs, feeling the dampness soaking your panties, and you gasp. He massages your clit through the fabric, having you moan uncontrollably right in his mouth, more so when you’re completely bare, panties thrown carelessly to the side.

“On my face,” Javier manages to get out during the brief pause which he takes to undress himself.

“What?”

“Sit on my face. Right now. I wanna taste you.”

Your mouth ajar, you stare at him struggling to compose yourself but there is no possible scenario in which you can accomplish that successfully. Instead, your eye roam over his shirtless figure, the sight fueling your needs further.

“Will you let me taste you?”

“I—it’s just I’ve never—done that, really.”

Javier looks dumbfounded at you. “You never sat on a guy’s face?”

“No, some of them barely went down on me, so I—“

“Do you trust me?”

You nod.

“Then take a seat.”

Javier lies down on the bed, quickly disposing of his own pants in the process, and it’s only then that you notice how hard he is. It can’t be comfortable, and yet here he is, choosing to do something that’s aimed for your pleasure. Unless of course this gives him great pleasure as well, which you think it does, and that only makes things tougher.

You climb up his body, quivering when you feel his calloused hands kneading the flesh of your ass and thighs as you do so, and quickly try to figure out the logistics of the act. That is, until Javier loses patience and grabs your thighs, placing them on either sides of his face, and you nearly lose your goddamn mind at his first taste he takes of you.

You’re sitting all the way on his face, his nose nudging your clit and his tongue lapping at your folds, collecting every ounce of arousal he can get. It’s pleasure from an angle you didn’t even dream of, and Javier certainly knows his way around a woman’s body. You react out of impulse and grab a handful of his hair, tugging on it while Javier’s tongue splits you open.

“Oh—f-fuck—“

You’re stuttering, heart pounding in your ears and your whole body afire; so much so that you shake, and not out of pleasure—not yet. But the way Javier yaps at your pussy, you somehow know he’s gonna get you there soon.

Beneath you, Javier listens closely to all the sounds you let out for him; he takes the time to feel every portion of your skin, not just the way his mouth is buried in your pussy, and to say he’s in awe would be a crass understatement. When you start grinding on his mouth, your body’s natural reaction to the way ecstasy builds in your body, Javier can’t help his own body’s reaction to it. You don’t see his hand sneaking behind you to curl around his weeping cock, and even if you did, all you’d want would be to take him in your mouth instead, give him at least half the pleasure and happiness he’d been giving you all this time.

“Javi—“

“Mhmmm—sounds so fucking good when you say it like that.”

“J-Javi, please—“

“Shit I could drink from you—all day long.”

Too impatient, both of Javier’s hands go back to your ass, grabbing it so that you rock faster against his tongue, but you’re already moving out of your own accord in a desperate attempt to capture more of his mouth, to have that feeling that’s only bubbling in your belly explode into a thousand explosive flames.

“Need you to say it,” you hear him beg from between your legs. “Can you say it for me, hm? Ask me.”

“Please, Javi…”

“Say it.”

“Javi, I need—I need you. Need to… feel you.”

Then, it all seizes around you: your mind goes blank, your vision goes dark, nothing but stars all around you and unbearable heat bursting from beneath you and going up till your whole body is enveloped in it. Javier’s hands continue to explore your body, touching and caressing every inch of skin, his eyes never leaving your figure like he’s admiring the most precious work of art there is.

“So beautiful,” you see him murmur as you’re getting off him.

Javier licks his lips teasingly just as you lean down to kiss him again. You doubt you’d ever get enough of his mouth now that you’ve finally tasted it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. “And so tasty.”

You smile flustered, still unable to think of anything proper to say. Some words do come to mind, of course; thank you, I appreciate your friendship, I’m in love with you—

Oh no, not that one.

You begin to fear that the way you’re kissing him exposes the reality in your mind, the word you undeniably feel fluttering inside your chest, begging to be released, but you can’t. It’s far too soon and too hasty, so you keep them to yourself. As your bodies get entangled with one another and you find yourself beneath him once again, you abandon those words in a tiny box at the back of your mind, sealed.

You find that once you keep your mouth shut, you can only gaze at Javier, and he at you. There’s nothing else to be said, not when your body’s being molded in such tender ways by Javier’s hands and mouth, praised for simply being here in between the sheets with him.

“Javi?”

“Hm?”

“Can you please fuck me now? I think we’ve both waited enough.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

Javier reaches over, opening the nightstand and eventually rolling a condom onto his erection, lining up to your entrance. You can’t help but admire Javier, his eyes, his lips, his cheeks, his strong arms, his chest and his belly, the soft, dark curls at the base of his cock, the way his lower lip quivers when he’s overwhelmed.

“You’re so—“you gasp.

And the way he fills you to the brim in one languid, careful thrust is equal parts mesmerizing and enticing.

“So what?” Javier asks.

“So pretty.”

Javier stills for a moment, blinking in confusion. “No one’s said that to me before. I don’t… am I?”

You smile, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes. Very much so.”

Then Javier sinks into you, inch by delicious inch. You feel him pressing down onto you, completely undone and ravished, and keeps muttering into your ear little praises here and there. Your back arched, you take him and his words deep inside you, allowing Javier to consume you as much as he told you that you consume him.

And you have to admit, it is the most maddening sensation in the world.

He starts to move, a new urge overcoming him than when he’d been with women in the past. Being with you feels different because for the first time in so many years, he doesn’t want to rush; in spite of his neediness and almost two years of celibacy, now that he’s here, with you and inside of you, he wants to remain in this moment for as long as possible. He doesn’t have to rush, he realizes. There’s no bombs going off in the distance or shootings—most importantly, Colombia is not out there.

But you are here, soft and warm and kind and beautiful and Javier can barely breathe thinking about how much he adores you.

He wants to say the words, he feels them on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t want to scare you away. And he doesn’t want to rush things when this has the potential to be something so great.

His thrusts keep the same pace, though Javier feels like he could easily come at any given moment. Your tight, warm walls around him make him dizzy, utterly lost in that damned lavender scent and in your eyes and your smile. And your lips—oh God, he could kiss you all day and all night long. All the other times he’d abstained from kissing you, how close he was… how could he not have you that way?

“Javi…”

It’s all he hears, his name moaned from your perfect lips. All he knows now is you, the way you arch your back with each thrust of his, the way you gasp when his hand lays on your stomach and his thumb plays with your clit.

“I’ve thought about this, you and me… before,” you smile, cupping his cheeks.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. I swore I’d never tell you. But now—“

“I thought about it too.”

“You—you did?”

Javier nods, leaning down to peck your lips, the gesture followed by an ecstatic smile.

“I shouldn’t have. I knew it was… it was wrong, it was dirty and cheap… I couldn’t stop. I—I tried, please believe me, I really tried, I—“

“Javi, shhh. I know you did. You were very honorable, and a great friend. Especially now, to me.”

You both smile against each other’s lips, Javier’s hips stuttering after a little while. He feels that familiar burn in his stomach, and that’s the only time he dares speed up, almost manically so. With a few grunts, Javier buries his head in the crook of your neck, cursing once in a while as his orgasm bubbled in his whole body. He needs to feel you pulse around him more than anything.

“I’m—shitshitshit—“

“It’s okay, come for me, Javi.”

“But I—“

“I’m close too.”

“Yeah?”

“S-So close… please…”

You don’t need to beg: you and Javier are right there, both tipping over the edge of sanity and falling right into the pit of passion and ecstasy. Javier grunts the loudest he ever had, spilling himself inside the condom and remaining still above you, the pleasure coursing through his veins overwhelming him completely. He looks down on you and sees your face scrunched up in the most adorable and alluring way and it dawns on him: it’s because of him. You came twice now, once in his mouth and once around his cock, gasping and moaning sweetly because of him. There’s a pride in his chest, pride and flattery, almost to an animalistic, primal degree.

When he pulls out, you feel empty and lonely, though the thought seems ridiculous because he’s right there still, isn’t he? You can’t help it—it’s like you want your bodies to remain united as one for as long as humanly possible.

“Oh, by the way,” Javier says, returning from the bathroom with a towel that he begins to press on your inner thighs and between them, “this is probably obvious, but we’re not telling your brother about this, right?”

You raise your eyebrows, bemused at his genuine question.

“I know we joked about it before, but… still.”

“Unless hell freezes over, no, we are not telling Steven shit.”

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tags: @pedrostories @psychedelic-ink @milkymoon2483 @ifall4dilfs @casa-boiardi @fallenkitten @jenispunk

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cheynovak · 7 months ago

Text

A Night to Remember

Part 2: In the spotlight

Jensen Ackles x F/Reader Y/N

Warnings: On screen chemistry, sexual tension, unfaithful, ...

Side note: English isn’t my first language

When a candid photo of Jensen Ackles and his co-star Y/N sharing an intimate moment goes viral, it threatens to upend the actor's carefully balanced life.

Jensen must navigate the fallout and confront his true feelings.

As he and Y/N strive to set the record straight, they are forced to examine the boundaries between professional connection and personal emotion.

Will their flirtation under the spotlight lead to lasting consequences, or can they find a way to protect what truly matters?

*Click*

One click, one misstep and there it was, the picture and news articles circling on the internet.

Los Angeles, CA – In a surprising turn of events, Supernatural star Jensen Ackles and his co-star Y/N Y/L/N were spotted together in what appeared to be a romantic setting. This unexpected sighting has ignited a whirlwind of speculation and intrigue among fans and media alike.

Ackles, who has been happily married to actress Danneel Ackles since 2010, was seen with Y/L/N at an upscale restaurant in downtown Los Angeles. The pair were seen at a local bar, a fan saw them engaging in deep conversation, sharing laughs, and even holding hands across the table. Dressed casual for the evening, both actors appeared relaxed and comfortable in each other’s company.

An eyewitness, who wishes to remain anonymous, shared, “They looked really close and seemed to be enjoying each other's company a lot. It felt like there was definitely more than just friendship between them.”

Y/N Y/L/N, who has recently to be rumoured as the new member of the cast of Ackles’ latest project “The boy”, has quickly become a fan favourite. However, this is the first time they have been seen together.

Fans of Ackles have taken to social media to express their disbelief and confusion. One fan tweeted, “I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Jensen and Y/N? What about Danneel? This doesn’t make sense!”

Another fan commented, “Jensen and Danneel have always been so solid. I hope this is just a misunderstanding.”

As the news spreads, neither Jensen nor Y/L/N have made any public statements regarding the nature of their relationship. Danneel Ackles has also remained silent on the matter, choosing not to address the swirling rumours.

It is possible that the outing was entirely innocent and misconstrued by the public. Hollywood friendships often involve close and affectionate interactions that can be easily misinterpreted.

In the meantime, the internet continues to buzz with theories and opinions, eagerly awaiting any clarification from the involved parties.

Fans hope for a positive resolution that respects all individuals involved and clarifies the situation.

Jensen stepped into his house, the warm familiarity of home wrapping around him. It had been an incredible cast, filled with unexpected connections and heartfelt moments. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought of Y/N, their shared laughter, and that unforgettable evening.

It was just a stupid drunk kiss, but still she knew what he needed, a chance to feel like he had it still in him, flirting picking up a nice girl at the bar, even though it was his co start who knew he felt insecure.

However, his smile faded as he saw his wife, Danneel, waiting for him in the living room, her expression unreadable. She held her phone in her hand, and Jensen’s heart sank with a premonition of trouble.

“Hey, babe,” Jensen greeted, trying to keep his tone light. “You’re up late.” Danneel nodded, her eyes fixed on him. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep. There’s something I need to show you.”

She handed him her phone, and Jensen’s stomach tightened as he saw the screen. There it was the photo from the bar. It captured the moment just before the kiss, the intimate way he and Y/N were looking at each other unmistakable.

“Danneel, I...” Jensen started, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“Jensen, I get it. It’s part of the job, right? You work closely with your co-stars. But this… this looks personal.” Her voice was calm, but he could hear the hurt underlying her words.

Jensen took a deep breath, his mind racing. “It wasn’t what it looks like, I swear. We were just talking, drinking and then… I don’t know. It just happened.”

Danneel looked at him, her eyes searching his. “I trust you, Jensen, but you have to understand how this looks. The internet is already buzzing with rumours. People are talking.”

Jensen ran a hand through his hair, frustration and guilt gnawing at him. “I’m so sorry, Danneel. I never wanted to hurt you. Y/N and I, we just got caught up in the moment. It didn’t mean anything, it just turns out she is the same playful spirit drunk.”

Danneel sighed, sitting down on the couch and gesturing for Jensen to join her. “I believe you, but we need to be careful. Our family, our kids—they’re going to hear about this. We need to be ready to handle it.”

Jensen sat beside her, taking her hand in his. “I’ll talk to Y/N. We’ll figure out a way to set the record straight. I love you.” he said before kissing her goodnight. Danneel squeezed his hand, a small smile playing on her lips.

The next week Jensen sat in a conference room with his manager, Y/N and her manager, Lisa, who was explaining their new plan.

“So, we’ve decided to lean into this,” Lisa said, spreading out mock-ups of promotional posters featuring Soldier Boy and Y/N’s character. “The internet is already buzzing about the photo. We’re going to introduce her new character on ‘The Boys’ as the love interest.

We know it wasn’t supposed to leak out yet, but we’re going to drop some on set photos, and I would like that you two make a video.

Y/N glanced at Jensen, her eyes wide with surprise. “If that’s possible, that would be great!” Jensen leaned back in his chair, a mix of relief and excitement bubbling up. “Alright, let’s do this.”

Jensen and Y/N found themselves standing in front of a camera crew, tasked with filming a special video announcement. Jensen stood beside Y/N, offering a reassuring smile as they exchanged a quick glance.

They had rehearsed their lines countless times, but there was still a nervous energy in the air.

“Hey, everyone, it’s Jensen Ackles here,” Jensen began, his voice confident as he addressed the camera. “And I’m thrilled to introduce you to the newest member of our team.”

Y/N stepped forward, their expression a mix of excitement and determination. “Hi, I’m Y/N, and I’m beyond excited to join the cast of ‘The Boys’

“Our new season is going to be bigger and better than ever,” Jensen continued, his enthusiasm infectious. “And with Y/N on board as soldier boys new love, I know we’re going to blow you away.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Get ready for an epic ride, folks.” With a wink they end the promo video.

“Y/N, can we talk?” Jensen asked, his voice serious as he pulled her aside. Y/N nodded, her expression guarded but curious. “Of course, J. What’s on your mind?”

Jensen took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before speaking. “Look, I can’t shake this feeling that… maybe things between us aren’t as straightforward as we’ve been pretending.”

Y/N’s gaze softened, a flicker of understanding passing through her eyes. “Jensen, I told you before, that kiss, it was just a moment. I know it didn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t want to make things more complicated than they already are. That’s why… I think we need to set some boundaries.” he added.

Y/N’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Boundaries?”

Jensen sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Look, I value our friendship, Y/N. And I don’t want to lose that. But I think we need to be careful about how we spend our time together.”

Y/N’s expression softened, a sense of resignation settling over them.” Maybe it’s best if we avoid situations where…” Jensen nodded, relief washing over him that Y/N understood. “Exactly. So, no more one on one getting drunk together, okay?”

“Yeah, sure no problem. I thought that kind of was a done deal without saying anything.” Y/N smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes.

A few months later

The cast of "The Boys" had a busy schedule at the Comic-Con weekend, but Jensen found himself with a rare moment of downtime. As he sipped on his coffee backstage, he noticed Y/N stepping onto the stage for a solo Q&A session with the fans.

Jensen leaned against a nearby wall, watching from the shadows as Y/N took the microphone, a radiant smile lighting up their face. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Y/N’s eyes sparkled with genuine excitement and gratitude.

“Hi, everyone!” Y/N greeted, their voice warm and inviting. “Thank you all so much for coming out today. You guys are the best!”

As she began to take questions from the audience, Jensen found himself mesmerized by the way Y/N engaged with the fans. She listened intently to each question, her expressions ranging from thoughtful to playful, depending on the fans.

She had an incredible ability to connect with people, making each person feel valued and heard.

One fan, a young girl dressed as her character, nervously approached the microphone. “Hi, Y/N! I just wanted to say that I love you, and you’re my hero.” Y/N’s eyes softened as she leaned forward, her smile radiating warmth. “Thank you so much! That means the world to me. You look amazing!"

As the panel continued, Jensen couldn’t shake the growing feelings stirring within him. Y/N finished answering another question, glancing backstage and catching Jensen’s eye. She gave him a quick, playful wink before turning back to the audience, and Jensen felt a flutter in his chest.

The cast gathered for a dinner at a cozy restaurant after their appearance at a Comic-Con. The atmosphere was warm and lively as the cast members laughed and chatted, enjoying each other’s company before the whirlwind of events ahead.

Jensen and Y/N exchanged polite smiles in between their casual conversation with others, the tension from their previous encounter hanging in the air between them like a silent understanding.

As the evening progressed, Jensen couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N, her easy laughter and infectious energy drawing him in despite the distance he had tried to maintain.

Throughout the dinner, their eyes meeting in fleeting moments of connection. Each glance spoke volumes. There was a playful spark in Jensen’s gaze, a hint of mischief that danced in his eyes. Finding it way too easy to find an opportunity to flirt with Y/N, even from across the table.

As the evening progressed and the drinks flowed freely. The warmth of the alcohol combined with the electric energy between them, fuelling a newfound boldness within him.

Leaning slightly on to the table, closer to Y/N, Jensen’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, a subtle gesture that worked like magic on her. His eyes, dark with desire, locked onto Y/N’s, sending a message of longing and intent.

Y/N’s breath caught at the sight, her own heart racing in response to Jensen’s unspoken flirtation. The air between them crackled with tension, the heat of their mutual attraction igniting like a wildfire.

Despite the playful banter and laughter around them, Jensen and Y/N were lost in their own world, a world where the only thing that mattered was the intoxicating game of pulling and pushing.

He saw how Y/N casually reached for her drink, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass in slow, deliberate circles. The motion was hypnotic, and Jensen found himself entranced by the simple yet sensual act.

She looked up at him through her lashes, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Y/N gracefully stood up from the table, her fingers lingering on the back of her chair as she cast a lingering, meaningful glance over her shoulder at him. Her eyes held a silent invitation that sent a thrill down his spine.

Jensen watched her as she walked away, her movements fluid and confident. He knew exactly what she was suggesting, and he felt a surge of anticipation. Excusing himself with a casual comment to the rest of the cast, he waited a few moments before following her path.

His heart pounded in his chest as he approached the restroom area, glancing around to ensure they wouldn’t be interrupted.

He pushed open the door to the women’s restroom, his eyes immediately finding Y/N. She stood by the sinks, her expression a mix of mischief and desire. The door closed behind him with a soft click, sealing them in their private little world.

“Y/N,” Jensen murmured, his voice husky as he stepped closer to her. “Are you sure about this?”

She smiled, the kind of smile that sent shivers down his spine. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his chest, sending a wave of heat through his body.

Jensen closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his hands finding her waist as he pulled her close. Their breaths mingled, the air thick with the electricity of their desire. Y/N tilted her head up, her eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made his pulse race.

Without another word, Jensen leaned in, capturing her lips with his in a searing kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the pent-up longing and unspoken words that had been building between them. Y/N responded eagerly, her hands sliding up to his shoulders as she pressed herself against him.

Jensen’s hands roamed her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress. Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, their tongues dancing in a rhythm of their own.

For a moment, they broke apart, their foreheads resting against each other’s as they caught their breath. “I’ve never been more sure about anything,” she replied, her voice a seductive whisper.

Let me know what you think, like, share or comment <3

If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Taglist: -> If you want to be added let me know what you like to read!

@yvonneeeee @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch

#fanfic #jensen ackles #x reader #fluff #jensen fucking ackles #soldier boy #the boys #jensenedit #jensen ackles soldier boy #ben x reader #romance

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justafriendofxanders · 7 months ago

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Been mulling over this, and I think I would have enjoyed watching the s5 Fred plotline swap Wes and Gunn's places. Like (and idk if this is controversial or not) but I actually found that Wesley's unrequited crush on Fred made him sympathetic and interesting, but only when those feelings were unrequited. Like it could be sweet, but you could also see that ways in which he could never really see her because of this crush. And that was interesting to me! That the more he loved her, the farther she got from him, and also that Wes seemed to have made peace with the fact that she'd never reciprocate romantic feelings for him. Y'know, your classic chaste knight trope.

If Fred HAD to die in s5 to make way for Illyria, I would have preferred the season being about Fred and Gunn dancing around starting a relationship again. It could explore how both of them have been dealing with their fallout since s4, which always had bigger issues for them to deal with than their relationship. Imagine if they were the will-they-won't-they of s5! If they were the drunk flirty couple in Life of the Party, and they made each laugh and fell back into a comfortable groove together until someone wondered aloud why they broke up in the first place, and then they remembered and everyone got awkward about it. Anyways, they'd eventually talk through their issues and be making tortured eyes at each other during meetings until Fred finally made a move on Gunn like she does with Wes, and they'd realize they loved each other just before Fred gets infected.

It would still have some of the same tragic themes of canon Fred/Wes (relationship that never got enough time), but it would give more resolution to the Fred/Gunn storyline we've been following. Also it would give Fred something more to... talk about? And reflect on? As she awaited her impending death? Like she doesn't spend enough time in a relationship with Wes to feel that loss the same way he does, but with Gunn, there's more that SHE can comment on wrt the loss of their relationship and the roles they played in each other's lives. Also if her parents have to come back later in the season ignorant of her death, maybe they're out of town and there's a part where she tries to write them a letter or something. Something that explores more of her feelings on the situation. Maybe it follows up on the avoidant feelings she feels in Fredless or the helplessness she feels in Supersymmetry. Pick your poison!

And! Instead of Fred's death being indirectly Gunn's fault, I think it'd be interesting if it was indirectly Wesley's -- like if Fred was doing something clearly dangerous and Wes tried to protest, and she'd pull the "Oh, but little ol' me? 🥺" act and Wes would fall for it hook, line, and sinker. So, like the Gunn situation, not really his FAULT but definitely something he could beat himself up over. To make it fit with the themes of s5 better, you'd probably flavor it "corruption by working under W&H" somehow. Like if, idk, part of Fred convincing Wes was both of them agreeing they needed to do questionable science things in order to do good.

Anyways, this also gives Gunn an excuse to go after Wesley in a reversal of canon. There's this comment by JAR on how Gunn holds himself to such a high standard and how he sees s5 Gunn as just being exhausted by trying so hard all the time, so he ends up taking shortcuts. I feel like having Fred's death be an emotional turning point could keep those same themes while reframing them. Like if Gunn spent the first half of the season desperately trying to hang onto the group's original values, even when it hindered them, and the frustration he'd feel at the perception that OTHER people's failures had cost Fred her life. Of course he'd get pissed! Going after Wes would be Gunn's moral "failure" in the season, the point where he abandons his values because he feels like all that hard work and self-restraint has been for nothing.

I feel like this has a better flow for Gunn and Wesley's character arcs in general and specifically while working for W&H -- W&H corrupts Wes by furthering his renegade, "If you try not to get anybody killed, you end up getting everybody killed" thing, while it exacerbates Gunn's need to be in control of a situation/himself, lest he lose another person he loves.

On the Fred front (again, working on the assumption that Fred must be Illyria'd in this season), I wish her death was partially because of actions SHE'D taken. Like if she'd gotten Gunn's arc, where she struggles to feel useful and becomes fearful of "losing" what she brings to the table, so she does something risky like trying to bring back Illyria to try and gain its knowledge. I feel like it could bring together themes of her episodes in s3 and 4 -- the struggle to feel like she belongs in Fredless, and the fight to reclaim agency/control in Supersymmetry.

Idk! I guess what I'm saying is that I would've liked seeing everyone be a slightly more active participant in their own tragedy. I think there's a way in which Fred herself becomes symbolic of AI's innocence in s5 (and her death the subsequent loss of it), rather than that "innocence" being something everyone's capable of losing or failing.

#idk if it comes across this way but this is genuinely not meant to be hate or anything. just thoughts.#angel the series #ats #winifred burkle #wesley wyndam pryce #charles gunn #buffyposting #yes this is a normal length post about ats s5 on a wednesday night. we're all doing our best.

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t1meslayer · 6 months ago

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Introducing Pokemon Scarlet and Violet: Fallout

It's been a long time coming — some six months, in fact. But after teeing things up throughout the month with my drawing skills and a little-a fic preview, the hour is nigh.

My ongoing Pokemon ScarVi fanfiction series, "Paldea's Fearsome Foursome," is hitting its first climactic story arc. Introducing...

Fallout

" An apocalyptic new threat lurking within Area Zero drags Florian down into the crystalline caverns for one more bout with the enigmatic Paradox Pokemon, alongside his friends from Paldea and Kitakami. What will they find hidden among the bounty of treasures below the Great Crater? Will the young trainers be able to save the world again? How will Arven fare against Professor Raifort's next History exam? All these answers and more await within the pages of this grand adventure. "

An extended author's note is available now on AO3 (and, to a lesser extent, Fanfiction.net) with special thanks to everyone who has been following the series thus far. Though I figure veterans and newcomers alike could use a refresher on not just the events of my extended Pokemon Violet universe thus far, but how those events slot into the original canon.

Luckily for you I've created a handy-dandy infographic for just such a purpose:

Be sure to let me know if you have any other questions or comments, my Asks are wide open.

In the meantime...

Chapter 1 is all prepped to run this Friday, May 24! I hope you're looking forward to it <3

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atopvisenyashill · 8 months ago

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Going through your asks, what happens if Littlefinger wins the duel, Brandon slips in the mud or a bird randomly craps in his eyes?

Catelyn is not going to marry him but I am wondering what the fallout would be?

H U H.

Okay so kind of returning to The Themes Here, I'm thinking specifically of this comment from George about feudal structures:

And then there are some things that are just don’t square with history. In some sense I’m trying to respond to that. [For example] the arranged marriage, which you see constantly in the historical fiction and television show, almost always when there’s an arranged marriage, the girl doesn’t want it and rejects it and she runs off with the stable boy instead. This never fucking happened. It just didn’t. There were thousands, tens of thousand, perhaps hundreds of thousands of arranged marriages in the nobility through the thousand years of Middle Ages and people went through with them. That’s how you did it. It wasn’t questioned. Yeah, occasionally you would want someone else, but you wouldn’t run off with the stable boy. And that’s another of my pet peeves about fantasies. The bad authors adopt the class structures of the Middle Ages; where you had the royalty and then you had the nobility and you had the merchant class and then you have the peasants and so forth. But they don’t seem to realize what it actually meant. They have scenes where the spunky peasant girl tells off the pretty prince. The pretty prince would have raped the spunky peasant girl. He would have put her in the stocks and then had garbage thrown at her. You know. I mean, the class structures in places like this had teeth. They had consequences. And people were brought up from their childhood to know their place and to know that duties of their class and the privileges of their class. It was always a source of friction when someone got outside of that thing. And I tried to reflect that.

I think Catelyn is an excellent example of a woman who knows her place BUT is able to navigate within her role incredibly well so she retains access to power and privilege in a way that most women can't in Westeros (and also just, OODLES of good luck, from being acting Lady of Riverrun to hitting the Westerosi jackpot of husbands and good hips) while Petyr is very much someone who doesn't know his place at that point in his life. Oh yes, Petyr is very aware of his place after this fight but that's largely because Brandon shows him what his place is through extreme violence. At this point in time, when he's just an idealistic teenager who sees himself as an equal to the Tullys and Starks despite being like, glorified merchant class? He has no idea the violence that awaits him for pulling this stunt but by the gods is he about to learn.

SO THE PETYR OF IT ALL - I don't think Hoster would straight up murder a teenage boy the way, say, the Lannisters push for Micah, Lady, Nymeria, and even Arya to be harmed but I do think that if he's not in terrible shape after the fight, Hoster has him lashed and put on a boat back to the Fingers post haste. Petyr goes home incredibly injured, sick from the sea and being unable to rest from his physical ordeals, maybe even some formal/informal exiling from the Riverlands or Westeros at large. Hoster is likely aware that having a teenager whipped and put on a boat is dangerous but the thing is the Northerners are on the way and Petyr just humiliated Brandon and the entirety of the North with this little romantic stunt of his; again, not saying Rickard or Brandon would demand Petyr's head, but I think Hoster's fondness for Lord Baelish would make him want this dealt with before the Northern faction shows up for the almost wedding to be like "hey what in the FUCK did your ward just do you shit ass??" Given that Petyr's general life philosophy is "piss me off once, get ready to die during my insane xanatos gambit 10-17 years down the line" I don't think this has a major effect on his personality besides pissing him off a bit more. He'll have to be smarter about building his wealth but no way he earns himself a permanent exile for something this stupid, and once the chaos of the war starts up, I'm sure the Iron Throne is willing to overlook some youthful follies.

THE BRANDON STARK OF IT ALL - This one is a bit more complicated.

Southron Ambitions is hashtag real and Brandon getting his ass handed to him looks so fucking bad for Rickard and also puts a huge dent in the idea of "everyone outside the crownlands intermarries so if Aerys overreaches we have each other's backs" because now Brandon looks like a wuss and Hoster looks like he can't control his vassals.

They can't just throw Catelyn at Ned yet because Hoster seems to be picky as fuck about the marriages of his kids and Ned is second born and functionally useless. Not good enough for Hoster's favorite child (yet).

Brandon himself probably feels humiliated by this whole thing and maybe even wants to put the blame for the loss on Cat or Hoster. I mean we are talking he loses because he like, trips in the mud and Petyr gets the drop on him. Humiliating, unlucky, bitch made behavior lmaooo that just doesn't look good for a man like Brandon.

The Northern faction is, I say again, literally on the way to Riverrun.

I think what happens here is that Brandon runs back to the approaching Northern faction licking his wounds and pride with a note from Hoster that essentially just says "maybe we should renegotiate a little bit" but before they can get to Riverrun, Lyanna disappears. Brandon is already a hothead so with his pride wounded, absolutely he marches straight up to the Red Keep and tells Rhaegar to come out and die and all of that goes more or less the same - maybe if Aerys had heard about Brandon losing the fight, there's some humiliation going on there in addition to the torture of the deaths.

AND FOR THE NEDCAT MARRIAGE OF IT ALL - I think Ned feels a lot more pressure to prove himself here. Which doesn't mean he makes any mistakes - Ned shows himself to have a good head for battle tactics even under pressure - but I do think it puts him politically in a weirder position but perhaps emotionally in a better one. For one thing, Ned escapes the Vale by sneaking through the Fingers where Petyr is from - that might be a problem here. From there, it ripples out when he joins for the Battle of the Bells; perhaps he's a bit more ferocious, takes a few bigger risks in battle in an attempt to make up for Brandon's failure and impress Hoster.

I think it's likely that the war still forces a Cat-Ned marriage but I think the way these two approach the marriage is going to be different than how it goes in canon. For one thing, I think Cat's reputation takes a hit - she'd come across perhaps as a bit ~unruly because her lil boyfriend defeated her fiance (who cares that she asked Petyr not to do it, who cares that she gave Brandon her favor, Petyr humiliated Brandon so now it's Cat's fault) and I also think Catelyn would feel. Idk, not duty bound to be loyal to Petyr after defeating Brandon, but certainly would be feeling something very complicated that Petyr pushed through her no's and then won. Then there's the conflict of not wanting to piss off her new husband. Meanwhile, Ned is probably thinking about how another man won her hand fair and square and how he's essentially stepping on someone else's toes. I think in this situation, Ned's feelings of not being "enough" get split between Brandon - who proves that he wasn't "enough" either - and Petyr, the feudal middle class upstart who proved he IS enough. I think it would be likely that Catelyn and Ned have a more tense relationship for much longer. Possibly Ned doesn't even name Bran after Brandon because he's worried it might seem a lil tacky.

BUT. I DO KIND OF THINK. THERE IS ANOTHER PATH HERE.

I think it's just as likely that to get around this whole awkward issue, Hoster decides that Ned should marry Lysa and that Jon Arryn should marry Cat. That changes everything radically. I don't think Ned would like Lysa's clinginess nor would Lysa appreciate the stern ways of the North. I do not think those two would ever have a happy marriage and I think Lysa still attempts to start something with Petyr. The problem there is that the affair would be conducted compeltely through letters because Ned is not sticking around KL the way Jon Arryn does nor imo would Ned just completely miss the fact that his wife is having an emotional affair with the man who beat his older brother's ass. If Ned finds out, I think it's going to swing him into a PTSD driven, flashback addled depression spiral and remind him way too much of Lyanna/Rhaegar. I'm not totally sure how he'd react to this; Lysa isn't physically having an affair but Ned knows damn well that emotions can turn into actions real quick.

Then we've got Catelyn-Jon Arryn. Now...the subject of children is kinda weird here. I think Lysa's issues with children are partially caused by the forced abortion + Jon's age. It's possible that Cat has an easier time conceiving BUT all this means is she has three or four children with disabilities instead of just one. I think we would see a Cat that has also sunk deeper into her own depression, blaming herself for the Brandon-Petyr debacle, thinking about how she could have married a man born in the same decade as her instead of one older than her father, etc. Maybe it's Catelyn that winds up having an affair with Petyr - though again, it would be harder to carry it out because if Jon is at the capital, I can't see Petyr being able to land Master of Coin or be put in charge of the gold cloaks. I think it becomes difficult for Petyr to gain any foothold at all in fact which means he has to be smarter once again - but we know Petyr is perfectly capable of that.

Keeping in mind all the dozens of ways this ripples through the plot, the biggest change here is that Petyr has to handle the Jon Arryn situation way differently with Cat married to him instead. I think there's a not unlikely chance that Petyr manuevers himself to off Jon Arryn sooner so Cat isn't wasting her fertile years on Jon but keeping them with Petyr because Cat no longer has a healthy, beautiful daughter for Petyr to get fixated on, if she manages to have a daughter at all. I think if he can throw suspicion onto someone else, no one will find it odd that he and Cat remarry, even if they do it in a really tacky way - it's just Been Known that he's holding a torch for her, Jon Arryn is old and ugly, Cat is sexy as fuck, and she's already had a true born heir by Jon Arryn, so really, who cares if she remarries someone beneath her. What that affects is a) when Ned comes South b) How Petyr handles Ned and c) whether Jon and Stannis find out about the incest or not.

Anyways point being if Petyr wins I think this is kind of a hell scenario for the Tully girls. Lysa will either still be miserable with Jon or be miserable with Ned. Catelyn has to carry around the fact that Petyr humiliated her betrothed and caused this huge scandal. Petyr is probably forced to get real creative much sooner if he wants to marry Catelyn.

Although now I'm thinking about Cat still rejecting Petyr for humiliating her, Jon Arryn still getting offed by Petyr, but then Ned comes South and now he's dealing with newly widowed and free Catelyn Tully Arryn and her sickly little kids. It's like a fucked up romance novel omg, give me a second chance romance where Ned and Cat fall in love while he's investigating what killed her husband!!!!!!!!!

#canon divergent au #i'm putting this in the tags bc i'm fascinated and curious about other people's opinions #valyrianscrolls #asks #riana one #catelyn stark #lysa tully #jon arryn #ned stark #i'm not tagging littlefucker until later i don't want his stans in my ask box asking why i call him littlefucker all the time

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lavenderuraniumglass · 7 months ago

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💚 Introduction post!! 💚

Hihihi!! I'm a 26 year old, neurodivergent, agender, polyam, queer person and I use they/them pronouns. This is just a blog where I just vibe, fawn over fictional characters, and post/reblog stuff I find interesting!

⭐️s: Sagittarius Sun, Libra Moon, Aquarius Rising

💎 Special Interests 💎: Mad Max, Fallout (Especially New Vegas), Bioshock, Vintage stuff (40s/50s/70s. Vintage style not vintage values), IHNMAIMS (more specifically, AM), and 🔥fire🔥

🖤✨️ Hope y'all like it! ✨️🖤

⚠️ Do NOT interact with this blog if :

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If you are one or more of the things listed above, then...

✨️🖕 KINDLY FUCK OFF 🖕✨️

You are not awaited in Valhalla!

That being said:

✨️💚 If you're not any of the things in the DNI list, feel free to stay a while and enjoy my blog! 💚✨️

#dni list #do not interact list #intro post #minors do not interact #minors dni #read first #before you follow #byf/dni

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 7 months ago

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By: Benjamin Ryan

Published: Apr 18, 2024

On April 9, the long-awaited Cass Review detonated in England. Its effects have been felt around a world torn asunder by the politicized subject of gender. The 388-page report, which was supported in part by six independent systematic literature reviews that were published by the BMJ, scrutinized the science behind pediatric gender-transition treatment.

Cass found that the practice of prescribing puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones to minors was based on “remarkably weak evidence.”

In the report’s fallout, furious clouds of misinformation have formed, fueled by people who doubtfully have read much—or any—of the report or the BMJ papers. These people have falsely claimed that Cass only accepted randomized controlled trials, or RCTs, as evidence to consider in her massive report.

I write this article as the same lone warrior who battled monkeypox misinformation (and made a typo doing it) two years ago. I write in hopes of setting the record straight on a few key points. I write as a dismayed middle-aged man who remains, at his heart, the same frustrated child who always did the reading before class, and who was forced to sit and listen to those who hadn’t done their homework dominate the discussion.

The following is a distillation of various fact-checking tweet threads I’ve published regarding the Cass Review. Individual tweets are hyperlinked throughout the text if you would care to refer to, comment upon, or retweet them.

To learn about the specifics of the Cass Review, you can check out my coverage in The New York Sun, my tweet thread about that article, and my thread about the report.

This particular article will be devoted to the dying art of fact checking.

Here’s What’s At Stake

Many advocates of gender-distressed young people are furious that systematic literature reviews, they argue, set the evidentiary bar too high. They say these reviews forbid the acceptance of lots of promising findings from perfectly good studies on pediatric gender-transition treatment.

Others say those evidence-based-medicine standards of assessing the strength versus weaknesses of research are vital to prevent research that makes erroneous claims from impacting health policy and sending it astray.

They note that the stakes are high when it comes to pediatric gender-transition treatment, in particular considering the drugs in question may impact fertility and sexual function. Fertility, they say, is a human right. And since children cannot consent to their own care, the adults responsible for their care—parents or guardians and doctors—need to be especially sure before they consent to or provide drugs that could take a child’s fertility.

Here’s the question: Where does the pediatric gender-dysphoria care field go from here, now that Cass has said the evidence is weak and uncertain (as have multiple previous systematic literature reviews)? Should it accept the claim of GLAAD, the LGBTQ media watchdog group, that the “science is settled,” and that puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones should be widely provided to gender-distressed children?

Or should the pediatric gender-medicine field follow the lead of Cass and England, and of Scandinavian nations, re-classifying pediatric gender-transition treatment as experimental and, accordingly, restricting it to clinical trials only Then, if the results of those clinical trials are favorable, it is possible that those European nations will change course again and broaden access to puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones for minors? Perhaps then they would be satisfied that the evidence is strong enough?

Here in the US, we have a split-screen system, quite unlike the European nations:

23 red states have passed bans of pediatric access to puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones for gender distress. Many are tied up in the courts. The Supreme Court will almost surely settle the matter.

Blue states support liberal access to such medications.

The major US medical societies, in particular the American Academy of Pediatrics and the Endocrine Society, along with the medical/activist group WPATH, all support liberal access to pediatric gender-transition treatment. This is in stark contrast to Cass/England’s approach.

So wide is the gulf between Cass and WPATH that after Cass supported forbidding puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones to minors, WPATH said that the majority of gender-dysphoric adolescents would fare better on such medications than with the holistic mental-health care Cass advises and that is now policy in England.

At stake here is the question of how scientific research is translated into health policy.

Who gets to decide, and what methods do they use to assess the research?

What is the best way to do this, to ensure that the best possible care is provided to vulnerable young people?

The most important question is this: How can patients, families and healthcare and mental-health providers be provided the most robust and informative information possible to guide their shared decision-making as they weigh the risks versus benefits of treatment?

Cass says that WPATH’s guidelines are weak. WPATH countered in their recent statement by asserting that they, WPATH, are the subject-matter experts on pediatric gender-transition treatment, not Cass. The American Academy of Pediatrics, meanwhile, has been sued, along with the author of its 2018 policy statement backing pediatric gender-transition treatment and the overall “affirmative” model of care, in a medical-malpractice suit that I covered for The New York Sun.

False Claims Have Widely Circulated That Cass Rejected all Non-Randomized Controlled Trials

Cass does indeed state that randomized-controlled trials are the gold-standard of scientific studies. Meanwhile, many claim that an RCT for gender-transition treatment would be unethical to conduct among children, because the preponderance of evidence indicates the treatment is safe and effective. (Others vigorously dispute that such a trial would be unethical and that such evidence is trustworthy—hence, they say, the need for an RCT.) Furthermore, it is not possible to blind such a study, because the effects of the drugs (i.e., suppressed puberty or cross-sex puberty) are too obvious.

However, neither of the two systematic literature reviews on which Cass was partially based—one about puberty blockers, the other about cross-sex hormones to treat gender distress in minors—place RCTs as the bar that the 103 studies they assessed needed to meet. Rather, they used a validated assessment tool known as the Newcastle-Ottowa scale, which is designed to assess the strength of observational studies.

This is how one of the papers described the scale:

Neither of the studies deemed high quality by the reviews were RCTs.

And so, the widespread claims that the Cass Review set an impossibly high bar to reach by demanding only RCTs, discarding 101 out of 103 studies of pediatric gender-transition treatment, are: FALSE

Let’s examine how Dr. Hilary Cass and her team did factor in the systematic literature reviews about puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones.

One systematic literature review examined puberty-blockers for gender distressed kids. It examined 50 studies, and included in its synthesis one high-quality study and 25 moderate-quality studies. It did not simply ignore the 24 low-quality studies.

The other systematic lit review examined cross-sex hormone use for gender distress in minors. It examined 53 studies, and included in its synthesis one high-quality study and 33 moderate-quality studies. But it did not simply ignore the 19 low-quality ones.

What about the Cass Review? How did it make use of the two systematic lit reviews? The claim that Cass simply discarded the 101 moderate/low-quality studies and only looked at the two high-quality studies is: FALSE

She folded the analyses of the 103 studies into her report.

Let’s zoom in to the 388-page Cass review. To see where she first folds in the findings of the systematic literature review of cross-sex hormones, go to page 183. Here is how she introduces that paper:

Cass includes in her report the following chart from the lit-review paper on cross-sex hormones, which breaks down all the studies it analyzed and what outcomes they addressed. Cass is pointing out key areas where more research is needed, in particular about fertility outcomes. So you can see that this report is about way more than just the narrow question of treatment efficacy. It’s about the whole field of pediatric gender medicine and the research apparatus behind it.

On page 184 of the Cass Review, she goes into considerable detail about the findings of the systematic literature review about cross-sex hormones. She does not solely focus on the one high-quality study, although she does certainly highlight it. She refers to all 53 studies.

The review discusses the findings of the systematic literature review on cross-sex hormones for minors amid discussions of lots of other individual papers about pediatric gender-transition treatment. The review also folds in the findings from the systematic literature review about puberty blockers for gender distressed minors (p. 175).

Cass includes the following chart from the review paper on puberty blockers for gender-distressed kids, which breaks down the outcomes examined by the 50 studies. It points to areas where much more research is needed, especially about…fertility.

From page 176 to 177, Cass has lots to say about the specifics of the puberty blocker systematic literature review. She does not restrict her discussion to the one high-quality study included in the review.

The Review includes 15 pages of footnotes of studies, guidelines, and other sources on which the report is based. The report is not solely based on two studies.

In sum, those who say Cass and the lit reviewers simply discarded 101 studies are incorrect. However, because the quality of the study findings was overwhelmingly weak, Cass was indeed very limited in which studies she could rely on in assessing safety and efficacy in particular.

Cass sums up the matter as follows in her introduction:

Who Has Made False Claims That The Cass Report Rejected All Non-RCTs?

The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation published an article quoting doctors repeating, and failing to challenge, the false claim that the Cass Review disregarded any studies about pediatric gender-transition treatment that were not randomized controlled trials. The article made various other false or misleading claims, such as that puberty blockers are at least believed to be safe and reversible. Sallie Baxendale’s recent scholarship, along with Cass’s findings, have shown how neither of those claims are known to be true. Much more research is needed.

Continuing a running theme in our culture of late, hundreds of academics have signed a letter protesting the Cass Review that strongly suggests they have not read the review or the systematic literature reviews on which it is partly based. Their letter falsely claims the Cass Review “does not include a proper systematic literature review since it disregards most research evidence because it fails to reach the impossibly high bar of a double-blind trial.”

The letter was spearheaded by transfeminist sociologist Natacha Kennedy and her colleagues at the Feminist Gender Equality Network.

Numerous accounts on X (formerly Twitter) broadcast the false claim that the Cass Review and two of the systematic literature reviews on which it was based simply discarded 101 of 103 studies on pediatric gender-transition treatment. This includes the British singer Billy Bragg, Dr. David Gorski (who also falsely claimed that Cass referred to so-called rapid-onset gender dysphoria in her report) and activist Substacker Erin Reed:

In her most recent Substack published April 18, Erin Reed continued to further the falsehood that Cass “disregarded” all but high-quality studies. She also made false or misleading claims about: the subjectivity of the systematic literature review’s scoring system; the ongoing debate over whether gender dysphoria is influenced by social contagion; the false notion that the Cass Review aligned itself with an anti-trans propagandist; and the detransition rate.

In a lengthy YouTube video, British political activist and pundit Owen Jones (who once interviewed me about monkeypox when I was very swollen and bald from chemo) repeatedly made the false assertion that the Cass Review excluded all non-RCTs.

youtube

Jones also falsely claimed that none of England’s pediatric-gender-clinic patients were sped through the assessment process. The Cass Review shows that at a minimum, hundreds of children were referred to endocrinology after no more than four assessment appointments.

Jones also repeatedly said that the rate of detransitioning—people who after taking cross-sex hormones stop the medications and revert to identifying as their biological sex—is about 1 percent, saying that long-term studies show this. This despite the fact that Cass said in her report that because of a lack of long-term follow-up, the detransition rate is unknown.

How Did All This Misinformation Get Started?

From what I can estimate, the first person to have pushed the false claim that Cass simply discarded 98 percent of the available studies about pediatric gender-transition treatment was trans activist and attorney Alejandra Caraballo.

The key problem is that Caraballo cited the wrong systematic literature reviews in a viral tweet about the Cass Review.

Five hours before the Cass Review was published on April 9, Caraballo tweeted a screenshot of what appeared to be the new systematic literature reviews that would be published alongside the Cass report. But these screenshots were actually from the so-called NICE reviews—from 2020.

The tweet quickly racked up hundreds of thousands of views and has 850K to date.

The NICE reviews of the pediatric use of puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones for gender distress relied on the GRADE system, which with rare exceptions only gives high-quality ratings to randomized controlled trials.

Caraballo apparently did not yet have a copy of the final Cass Review report at this time. If Caraballo had waited until the new systematic literature reviews on which it was partly based, Caraballo would have seen that they did not throw out all but RCTs.

I am quite certain Caraballo did not have access to the Cass Review’s final report before the embargo lifted (at 7:01pm ET April 9), because shortly before the embargo was set to lift, Caraballo tweeted what was quite apparently thought to be the Cass report. But the link was to the review papers, not the report. As you can see, I told Caraballo on April 9 that the tweet had not, as claimed, linked to the Cass Review:

And of course amid all this, uber-popular debunking podcaster Michael Hobbes, who once hosted a show called You’re Wrong About, weighed in.

This reminds me of the time Hobbes hate tweeted about the feature in The Atlantic that I wrote about carpal tunnel syndrome and spent half the summer researching. He dismissed it with a wave of the hand. It was obvious he had not read it.

I will leave you, dear reader, with one small, yet mighty request:

PLEASE DO THE READING.

About the Author

Benjamin Ryan is an independent journalist, specializing in science and health care coverage. He has contributed to The New York Times, The Guardian, NBC News and The New York Sun. Ryan has also written for the Washington Post, The Atlantic, The Nation, Thomson Reuters Foundation, New York, The Marshall Project, PBS, The Village Voice, The New York Observer, the New York Post, Money, Men's Journal, City & State, Quartz, Out and The Advocate.

Learn more about Ryan’s work on his website, and follow him on X @benryanwriter.

Make no mistake, these gender fanatics aren't mistaken or misinformed or confused. This is malicious and deliberate. They're liars and they know they're lying.

How do we know? They don't say things like, "ah, that makes sense now," or "I didn't realize that," or "I misunderstood that."

Instead, they pivot, and then they pivot, and then they pivot again. They create one lie, then another, then another, then another.

"The amount of energy needed to refute bullshit is an order of magnitude bigger than that needed to produce it." -- Brandolini's Law

It's not criticism or analysis. They're anti-science religious fundamentalists doing the same kind of thing anti-evolution creationists do: strawman, misrepresent, misinterpret or outright lie in order to create a false sense of doubt or uncertainty. It's religious apologists producing propaganda for the faithful.

Note: Even Stonewall has had to backpedal, which they've done while pretending how the research was evaluated was "unclear." Community Notes has pointed out that dedicated sections in the report itself explain exactly how this was done.

Meaning, Stonewall was either lying about having read it, or they read it but were lying about what's in it. It's most likely they didn't read it and simply took the word of one or more of the already named frauds and activists LARPing as "journalists."

#Benjamin Ryan #Cass Review #Cass Report #Dr. Hilary Cass #Hilary Cass #disinformation #pathological liars #compulsive liars #Michael Hobbes #Alejandra Caraballo #Erin Reed #Christopher Reed #gender propaganda #trans propaganda #science #anti science #propaganda #religion is a mental illness

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