#Project: SWING! Strike

[sibbydoo]

[🕸] Project: SWING!

SWINGtember 11 - Canon Event

The words came with a new kind of sadness

They meant everything, you mean everything to me

- “Even Robots Need Blankets” by Mayday Parade

When exactly The Spi-borg and Strike slowly bled into just Cario and Sophia, they will never know. What the world knows is that one day, The Spi-borg was without his deadlier shadow, and Cario’s friends know that he lost Sophia, his partner, the sails to his anchor; the love of his life. Great things end; and what they had was indeed that—the pain, the healing, the love, finding home in each other (despite, despite, despite). That’s all it was. And they deserved more.

Some notes on Sophia;

Soviya Orsevi (later on: Sophia Parker) was a snake from the Institutum Serpenses, an institute dedicated to training girls to be assassins. After NiteMax and its connections shut down (including InSerpenses), she’ll spend her life finding those who worked with NiteMax and the Institute until she will no longer be haunted by a past she could not control. ‬

Also I don’t mean “snake” like, the reptile. Think of Black Widow, her past, and the widows she trained with. The Insitutum Serpenses and the girls they train to be “snakes” is essentially this dimension’s version of that.

I’m not sure how to talk about her being Cario’s canon event without full on rambling but, long story short: Sophia was sick with the same chemicals that had almost k’lled Cario (before the spider bite ‘reset’ his body/system)

[lackadaisycats]

Video essay by Jellybox about what's good and bad about indie animation!

Wanted to share this in case it's helpful to anyone wanting to pursue making animation independently. It's also for fans of indie animation who may want some insight into how an indie studio works, why indie cartoons are always selling merch, why release schedules are often erratic, etc.

I also wanted to clarify the video's context, because it seems to have been somewhat misconstrued in some circles. Not long ago, WGA and SAG strikes, followed by TAG negotiations were very much in the news, shining light on the struggles the artists, writers, and actors in the Hollywood studio system are facing. In response, the words 'just go indie' have been tossed around quite a bit lately.

Gene and Sean at Jellybox approached us a few months back explaining that they were planning to make a video about the realities of running an indie studio/producing indie animation, largely in response to that 'just go indie' attitude. They were curious if we'd be willing to share our experience, including information about actual costs and the various difficulties and complications we've encountered. We said yes! We'd like for people to know what it's like. As much as it might look appealing next to the currently very broken studio system, indie has its own set of problems, and we think it's a good idea to be transparent about that because talking about problems is how you begin to address them.

Of course, while you get creative freedom and you have no shareholders to appease with indie production, the primary struggle you're always going to face is funding…and funding avenues are limited. Banks aren't eager to hand out business loans to freelance artists making cartoons, for instance. Social media algorithms reward frequent updates you can't swing with hand-drawn animated content, so you can't rely much on things like AdSense. You can't really insert sponsored ads into your animated videos without being too obtrusive. You can take on client work, but that interferes with your ability to focus on own animated project. Crowdfunds can be great for seed money, but they're also a ton of work to fulfill, and fulfillment itself will tend to eat up a considerable amount of the funds you've raised. Once your animation is produced, there is no well established way to sell the animated episode itself like there is for, say indie games sold on Steam. So, while we consider ways to try to make the terrain a bit more hospitable to indie creations, if nothing else, let this explain why productions rely a lot on merch drops!

-----------------

And hey, if you're an animation fan, consider supporting the independent productions you enjoy, whether you're tossing a few dollars their way, buying their merch, or just mentioning them to friends:

The Far-Fetched team is launching a crowdfund very soon to help them complete their pilot!

The Monkey Wrench team is killing it lately, and they deserve so much more fanfare than they've gotten!

And of course, thank you to the excellent folks at Jellybox for starting an important conversation!

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … COINCIDENCE ♡

track six of the short n’sweet series. pairing: toxic!jj x reader. based loosely on the song coincidence by sabrina carpenter. enjoy! ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა

you and kiara carerra were not similar in the slightest.

both beautiful in your own right, sure — but just… different. she was tomboyish, a natural beauty with the ‘cool girl’ charm. she knew makes of cars, how to play pool and actually be good at it. she got competitive and passionate at sports events. she could make a plain tank top and denim shorts look effortlessly gorgeous. she was kiara — and you were well, you. a real girly girl, nails were always done, not the biggest sports fan and you’d always make sure your bikini matched your flip flops even if you were going to be taking them off the second you reached the beach. you were two people that probably wouldn’t cross paths otherwise, but you can see why she had her eye on you and likewise.

infact, you remember the first time you saw jj maybank — and he’d done a double take to watch you go by while she was still at his side.

granted, it was the very end of their relationship. you’re talking — break up the next day end. but still, it was grounds for you to raise an eyebrow. doubt strikes your chest each time you remember it. what should have been flattering was actually waving red flags in your face.

it wasn’t just a glance either, if you were being totally honest. it was a greedy stare — one that travelled from your face to your feet, every ex girlfriends nightmare when he ended up at your side just a few weeks later.

just like that, kiara started to show up everywhere the two of you were. haunting you like a ghost. she didn’t seem like she loved parties before, much preferring to surf and grab food on a saturday evening — but since you coupled up with the maybank boy you’d think she was hunting for the next Project X — around each turn all dressed up with a drink in her hand, chatting happily away to all of jj’s friends that you didn’t know how to talk to. it set you on edge.

a revenge plot, sure — and you couldn’t blame the girl. you’d be scalded too. you knew to stay out of her way, despite the situation bothering you. you knew jj noticed her scheming, infact she’d occasionally find reasons to talk to him and you’d swallow it down. she was confrontational, you were not — and perhaps guilt was involved, because you’d pathetically glue your eyes to your shoes whenever she’d smugly approach. you daren’t start anything.

you felt paralysed when she approached the blonde at your side at the next party you were at. “dude, can we talk in private?” she stresses solemnly, even glancing your way in reference as if to say ‘without her.’ you look helpless, bless your heart— looking over to jj and just praying her tells her to fuck off finally. but he didn’t, and wouldn’t. he might have been a little toxic in his decision making, but you’d like to think on the inside he was too good of a guy to let her down like that. which is why he presses his lips together awkwardly and nods, giving you a reassuring little pat on your lower back before strolling off with her towards an empty room, running a hand through his hair. you watched him go, you watched her take him away.

you walk to the drinks table and pour way too much liquor into your cup. pope watches, standing nearby having definitely scoped out the situation and sends you this… look. he meant well, but the gaze of sympathy did nothing to reassure you. what did he know? why would he be sorry?

you down the drink, and next thing you know it’s been fifteen minutes and they’re still behind a closed door. you shove your cup into john b’s hand, who looks taken aback but guards it nonetheless, and you storm right up there without thinking. you’re done being the sweet, lenient girlfriend. he wants crazy? you can match that too.

“times up, you can get the fuck ou—” your voice trails off after you swing the door open with such a force. it’s not exactly the sight you were expecting to see, shocked that you weren’t witnessing a head of blonde hair between her spread legs. instead, she paces infront of him in tears, all while he sits on the edge of the bed awkwardly, brow creased. whatever was happening, it didn’t look like cheating.

“of fucking course.” kiara gestures to you before pushing past, wiping her eyes and leaving the room. you clear your throat awkwardly.

“wanna leave?” your voice comes softer this time and he blinks at you.

“‘ya.”

the drive home is weird and suspenseful. he’s gripping the steering wheel and you’re fidgeting and itching, dying to ask what happened. what you saw.

“i just don’t understand why she won’t leave you alone.” your voice decides on a solemn tone as you stare ahead at the dark road ahead of you. jj’s jaw ticks in irritation and his eyes flutter as if resisting an eye roll. you just about catch the expression when you turn your head, and no — it’s not what you were expecting.

“its not really like, up for discussion right now? so can we just—” his hand lurches forward to press the on button to the radio, music ringing out for not even a second before you shut it off just as fast, frowning now.

“no, that’s — don’t be unfair. i’ve been so fucking tolerant jj. you know i have. i have never asked— but— but can you not see how this might concern me?” you feel your face getting hot and your voice raising.

“alright we’re goin’ there— okay! look, babe — she’s my friend. i’ve known that chick since i was like fourteen so this whole issue is kinda bigger than you, i’ll be honest—”

“you’re in a relationship. you left her! why do i feel like i have to hold you so tight or you’re gonna run off to her!”

“i’on know maybe you should be lookin’ at your own trust issues ‘stead of pointing the finger at me.” he pulls into your drive, haphazardly parking the car but neither of you make a move to get out, turning your bodies to face one another.

“trust issues? jj do you really think it’s a coincidence that she shows up everywhere that we’re at? she’s trying to get you back and i don’t know what hold she has over you but you need to stop letting her run you if you wanna stay with me.” you assert, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. he rolls his eyes practically into space, leaning back in his seat as he runs a hand over his face.

“look. she got the wrong idea. last time me n’you had that big fight i… i went over to see her. nothin’ happened i just talked about…us, and i guess she just — she got her hopes up— that’s it, okay—”

“are you serious? jj are you fucking serious?” your voice shakes, and your feet move. you open the car door, being sure to slam it shut before marching to your door, trembling hands fumbling for the keys in your purse. he’s quick to follow, sighing at his own choice of words as he tries to block you from getting inside, continuing to ramble.

“dont be like that, mama. c’mon, you know i wouldn’t go there. you really don’t trust me— like at all?”

“the first time i saw you, you checked me out while you were still with her. you’re not above it.” you sniff angrily as you finally find your keys, shoving past to slot them in the keyhole. he grabs your arm as you pass him, stopping you in your tracks. you always forget how strong he is.

“it ain’t right. i know.” he defends, eyes wide and urgent as he stares down at you. he softens, trying to pull you toward him. “i know.”

“no you don’t. so what, when you lose feelings for me you’ll just toss me to the side when a hotter girl comes along? no thank you.” you shove him off you, storming into the living room and he curses, shutting your front door and chasing you in.

“i’on know what you want from me but i’mma guess it’s some kinda sick reassurance. i told you time and time again that me n’her just weren’t right. we outgrew eachother. end of freakin’ story. you know what? you know what babe? i’mma show you what you do to me.” you feel him on you, manhandling you like some kind of brute, a kidnapper of sorts and roughly lowering you to the ground so he can hold you down on your front no matter how hard you squirm.

nothing in your body is saying no despite your violent wriggling from his grip. infact, on instinct your back arches and you groan, petulantly.

“yeah, tha’s what i thought. all this ‘cos you wanted papa to show you how much he cares? that it? god damn you piss me off.” he grits his teeth, fighting your skirt off your body as he holds your body down with his knees, practically straddling you.

it doesn’t take long for you to get wet, not with the way he’s handling you, with the way he’s talking to you, a hand on your throat pulling your face off the carpet to listen good.

“i was in the room tellin’ her to stop playin’ in my girls face and she was cryin’. that what you wanted to hear? huh? that it’s you over anyone? ‘cus if that’s what you want i can drill it right into that brain all night. pull your panties to the side n’don’t lemme tell you twice.”

your glossy folds part for him when you arch harder, tears on your cheeks that you don’t remember falling as you reach back and peel the panties away from your cunt. you hear him belt buckle and you mewl from habit. it felt so good. it felt so good to be chosen.

“mhm. if i’m so bad, and such a pig, why am i holdin’ you down gettin’ ready to pound your shit right now and not with her? huh?”

you couldn’t answer. maybe this was bigger than you, maybe it wasn’t — but for now you’ll believe his every word. hard not to listen when he’s pushing his tip in.

[ennabear]

⭑ SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE ⋆˚ ༘ *

ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ themes of jealousy, porn w/ plot, ellie is lowkey a bad gf (she makes up for it in the end i swear), hate sex w rockstar!ellie, dom!r, brat!ellie (heh, get it?), slapping + spanking, ruined orgasm, based on sympathy is a knife by charli xcx, somewhat projecting here because i’m an insecure overthinker oops, brat summer challenge entry for my oomfies, check out everyone else’s entries and consider joining the server!! fank yewwwwq!!! 18+

🍏 wc: 2.5k ++ divider creds

✮ don’t wanna see her backstage at my girlfriend’s show. ✮

the crowd was crushing you from all sides, a wave of sweaty, drunk strangers all packed tightly together. girls surrounding you were wearing short skirts and low-cut tops, all cheering for your girlfriend.

your girlfriend.

this was one of the cons of dating a rockstar, sure ellie made lots of money, sure you were her one and only muse, sure she only had eyes for you, didn’t she? but this enraged you, the way they all screamed at her like you weren’t even there. begging her to take her shirt off, play them a song, and especially the way she always followed their orders.

you sigh, turning around to squeeze to the back of the crowd, muttering a few ‘scuse me’s and ‘pardon’s. the smell of sweat and weed infects your lungs, causing you to cover your face with your elbow. stumbling over your feet, you finally land on a barstool, asking the bartender for a glass of ice water. ellie notices your absence, scanning the crowd for you, her gaze being met with thirsty glances all around.

the cool water soothes the rage boiling in your stomach ever so slightly. your heart is still pounding, hands shaking, feet tapping the floor. thoughts of self-hatred plague your mind at a million miles per hour, a wild voice that tears you completely apart…

“where the hell did you go?” ellie’s annoyed voice cuts through your mind. you jump.

“sorry,” you trail off. “i got too hot.”

“man… you should’ve seen the way those girls in the front row were screaming.” she beams, a glistening smile creeping up on her expression. “almost blew the fuckin’ roof off.”

you don’t respond to this, instead looking down into your drink and swirling the ice around with your straw. “you gonna come backstage?” she asks. “or sit here and pout.”

“i dunno, els. i’m kinda ti-” she cuts you off by pinching the apple of your cheek, grinning at you like you’re a trophy. a grammy, in her mind. “knew you’d say yes.”

another wave of rage crashes over you, a chill running down your spine. ellie’s tattooed hands grab your wrists, dragging you with her as if you’re a lost puppy. you don’t let it get to you though, letting it simmer as she drags you from the bar, and trying to ignore it once you slump onto the cracked leather couch.

maybe it’s just the sour mood you’re in, but the sudden change of environment makes your stomach churn. the paint chipping off of the walls makes your skin crawl, the lights surrounding the mirror are faded and yellow, the air in the room is stale and smells of body odor and piss. it’s uncomfortable all around.

ellie doesn’t notice this, of course. too lost in her own jabber about the show to pay any mind to you. a knock on the door halts your thoughts again. “ellie?” someone asks.

“yeah?” she calls back, throwing her shirt into her bag and lighting a cigarette.

“are ‘ya decent? i brought a few girls from the pit. they’re gonna kill me if you don’t open this door.”

your jaw falls open involuntarily. the audacity strikes you in your burning heart. the audacity. the audacity to shove other girls in ellie’s face while she barely even loves you.

once again, ellie pays no mind to this, swinging the door open and presenting her bare chest to the small group of girls peeking in from the hallway. your jaw clenches, you wish so badly she would say no for once. that she would forget about the fame and the money and take you on a god damn date.

in a moment of defeat, you cross your fingers behind your back. praying to some god, any god, that this moment ends soon. and with your luck, it doesn’t. you’re cramped in this small, crappy room, watching the love of your life converse with girls who are so much prettier than you.

and they’re so much prettier. they all have silky hair that cascades down their backs and and finishes with a little curl. expensive earrings and bracelets, full faces of completely untouched makeup, not even a single smudge or stain. shoes that cost more than your house, perfume that smells better than the bouquets of flowers ellie used to buy for you. you couldn’t even be them if you tried.

laughter breaks out between ellie and the girls. she nudges you in the side as a hint to start laughing along, but you bite your lip and look down, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. you can’t hear anything, so jealous you feel like you might faint.

ellie smiles and stands up, patting you on the knee as she does. you don’t follow, instead watching through blurred vision as she ushers the girls out of the door. tears fall from your eyes and you grimace, holding your head in your hands and starting to sob.

“do you wanna tell me what the fuck just happened?” she asks, eyebrows furrowing in anger. you don’t respond. you can’t. how are you supposed to tell her you’ve been spiraling because she’s been eye-fucking other girls? when she hasn’t even kissed you in days? and when was the last time she said i love you? why hasn’t she noticed?

“hello?” she shouts. “what the fuck is going on with you? why haven’t you been talking to me?”

“why haven’t i been talking to you? i don’t know, maybe because you’re too busy feeling up other girls in front of me?” you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. your eyeliner is streaming down your face, and suddenly your band tee and jeans feel improper.

“when’s the last time you’ve asked me about my day, ellie? i talk to you all the time. i help you write songs, i listen to you talk about your gigs, i clean your ass up when you come home drunk out of your mind.” you trail off, looking up at her to see a broken, almost confused look.

“you can’t at least pretend to appreciate the things i do for you?” she scowls, cornering you in the small dressing room. “you can’t even grit your teeth and fucking lie in front of my band? in front of my friends? i work my ass off providing for both of us and i don’t even get a thank you?”

“you don’t mean it…” you sob, absolutely sure that anyone outside of this room can hear the screaming match between you two. ellie scowls, your favorite green eyes are no longer soft and reassuring, but instead sharp. dangerous, almost.

“why do i have to share the space, ellie? did i do something wrong? did i-” you’re cut off by the door slamming shut. the mirror rattles behind you, shaking your reflection for a second.

what do you do now, sit here and cry? or will that only make it worse? a knock on the door soothes your racing heart. “you okay in there?” it was ellie’s assistant, the same guy who rounded up those girls earlier. “i- yeah?” your voice shakes as you answer. you go so cold.

he enters the room, sitting on the chair next to you. “we’re packing up the busses. you’d better hurry up before we leave you here.” how could you be mad at him? some sweet old guy who cares about you more than ellie does. you pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to form. “i don’t know if i belong here anymore.”

the comfort isn’t much, but you’ll take what you can get right now. you let a few tears fall, tear ducts already exhausted and drained. “don’t cry, kiddo. you’re both still young, she’s just going through something right now.”

somehow, this makes it worse. your cheeks heat up, that same anger stirring in your veins. “cmon, let me walk you out before they forget us both.” he laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you exit through the back of the building.

ellie is waiting for you in her bus, wearing an old beat up tank top and some sweats. she refuses to meet your eyes, her newly reformed ego letting her think that she’s too good to give an apology. you quickly change clothes, replacing your band tee with a sports bra and scrubbing off your smudged eyeliner.

she comes up behind you as you wash your face, completely ignoring you as she picks up a pair of scissors and starts snipping at her shaggy hair. the bathroom suddenly feels too small, like the walls are closing in on you. “so you’re still too good for an apology?” you ask.

“sorry.” she mumbles monotonously.

you turn and look at her. no, you glare at her. the attitude she’s had lately is almost jarring. here your once sweet, loving girlfriend stands. neglecting you for months, complaining to her friends about you, making you cry, embarrassing you in front of everyone she knows. this isn’t like her at all.

that rage boils up inside of you again. red-hot, vicious anger that scorches your insides and washes over you like a violent midnight hurricane. before you can even think, the palm of your hand is smacking her at lightning speed. her jaw falls open involuntary, eyes piercing into you.

that felt good. so, so good. you wiped that smug off of her face real quick. with your hand still raised, you grab her by the neck of her shirt— ripping a hole into the thin, flimsy fabric— and bend her over the sink.

“this’s how you wanna treat me, huh?” you laugh, out of exhaustion or relief, you aren’t sure. her pants slip off as soon as you tug them down, palming her bush beneath her boxers before you snag them off too.

“i- i’m…” she stammers. “i’m sorr-!!” you cut her off, pulling her back by the roots of her hair.

“i’ll show you how it fucking feels.” you punctuate this by sending your hand down to slap her ass, leaving a glowing red handprint on her pale skin. she grips the sink, whining loudly at the smack but deciding not to talk back, she might make it worse.

“that hurt?” you tease, rubbing over the area you hit. ellie bites her lip, not wanting to admit that it stung. she heaves a sigh, muttering a quick no.“no? not yet? guess we’ll have to go harder.” you smirk evilly. she gasps at this, but it’s too late. now she’s wincing at the slap, back arching into you as you palm at her ass.

“please!!” she begs. “i’m sorry! i’m so sorry!!” tears roll down her face, she looks just as pathetic as you did back in that dressing room. “what would those other girls think if they saw you like this right now?”

she doesn’t answer, instead her cheeks turn a bright beet red. one of your hands lifts her head up by her hair, angling her face to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror. she can’t help but gawk at her expression, tears rolling down her face, lips pink and sore from being chewed on.

“one more? or are you gonna apologize now.” her lips pull back into a grimace at the thought of getting another smack from one of your heavy hands.

“i’m sorry.” she admits shyly. “i’ve been an asshole. i’m sorry and i mean it.” you slide two fingers into her dripping hole as she spews out her apology. she groans, gripping onto your wrist that just released itself from her scalp.

the pleasure soon overtakes the pain, and the stinging of her ass goes almost numb as your fingers reach deeper than ever. her lips quiver as she tries to hold back her moans, cunt practically sucking your fingers in.

her eyes roll back into her head as you pound into her, slick dripping down your fingers and wrist. she looks pathetic like this. now her own makeup is smudged and runny, she’s the one begging for forgiveness. “ohh, god, please!! right there.” she sputters, eyebrows furrowing as she gets closer and closer to finishing.

it doesn’t take much to please her, with two fingers massaging her g-spot and your teeth in her neck, she’s about to cum her brains out. she doesn’t, though. as soon as you notice the telltale twitch of her thighs, you pull your fingers out. she groans at the loss, cunt squeezing and clenching, desperately trying to get off without you.

“is that how you like it now? being neglected and completely left in the dark?” her head shakes, she wants to scream at you for ruining this for her, but she knows deep down that she deserves it. “keep going, please. i swear i’ll be so good. isweariswearisw-” you yawn, helping her pull her boxers back on.

“i dunno, ellie. i’m not sure you deserve it yet.” you sigh. “plus, i’m kinda sleepy.” once she’s dressed, you turn to leave. sliding the door shut behind you and flopping onto the small bed in the back of the trailer.

ellie takes a second to sit and think, and now she really realizes what she’s done. that her ego and crave for fame has gotten in the way of her love. as soon as your hands left her body, it was like she could feel herself losing you in real time.

the faucet squeaks as she turns the handle, splashing some cold water on her cheeks, and it mixes with her tears. what if you leave her? what if you leave her and it’s her fault? what if you showed her countless signs that you were feeling unloved and she completely ignored it? did she do that? now it’s her turn to spiral, to fall down the rabbit hole of insecurity and have to claw herself out with no support at all.

her body is starting to overheat, she peels her sweaty shirt off and throws it in front of her, soothing herself with the cold tile on the floor. she realizes how distant she’s been, how much she’s taken you for granted. maybe sympathy isn’t a knife, it’s a double-edged sword.

a few painful minutes later, she exits the bathroom and lays down beside you, curling into your side and sighing heavily. you can sense her unpleasant mood, but you still don’t really feel bad for her. not after how she’s made you feel.

and then she sits up and she kisses you for the first time in months. a real kiss, not a peck or a bite. her lips press against yours, she tastes the same, sweet and a little bit throaty. soft lips roam around yours, remembering how it feels to be intimate in such a way. to be loved. “i’m sorry.” she whispers on top of your lips. “i really am. do i get another chance?”

maybe sympathy isn’t a knife, it’s a double-edged sword.

[austinbutlerslovers]

Buzzcut

Label 18+

Summary You knew the day was coming and had mentally prepared for it—the day Austin would completely shave his head for a role.

You understood his dedication and how drastic his look would be, but what you didn’t expect is the difference it would make in your relationship.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Austins drastic hair change • relationship dynamics •fetishism • oral on fem • interchanging positions • cowgirl• missionary• P in V• orgasms • cream pie 🔗Masterlist

📖 Proofreader @purejasmine Written by popular demand🪒 *Updated: location of where he filmed the scene-Tulum Mexico 🥰

Buzzcut

You’re in Tulum, Mexico, staying in a luxurious beachfront resort where Austin is filming his latest project.

The suite is spacious and elegant, with rich wooden accents and soft, airy fabrics that sway in the ocean breeze. 

Large glass windows and sliding doors open onto a private terrace, offering a stunning view of the turquoise ocean stretching to the horizon. 

The king-sized bed, draped in crisp white linens, sits perfectly positioned in the center of the room to face the breathtaking view.

But despite your beautiful surroundings, you’ve been pacing the suite consumed with only one thing on your mind. 

Austin’s key card slides into the slot, and your heart leaps to your throat. He’s finally back. You rush to the door of the suite, nearly tripping in your excitement.

Your anticipation has been mounting all day, ever since he texted to say he’d filmed “the scene.” The one you knew was coming—the one where he shaves his hair into a buzz cut.

When you swing open the door, he greets you with his sweet charming smile that never fails to disarm you, but he’s wearing a hoodie and a cap that hide the evidence of what he’s done.

As he steps inside the door clicks shut behind him, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug, his familiar warmth grounding you instantly.

“I missed you,” he whispers against your ear, his voice soft and affectionate.

You squeeze him back, hugging him deeply, but your curiosity is burning a hole through you. Pulling back, you look up at him with wide eyes. “Okay let me see it.”

He chuckles, a low sound that sends a thrill through you. “You’re not even going to ask how my day was?”

“Austin!” you whine, swatting at his chest. “I’m desperate, let me see it.”

“Alright, alright.” He says stepping back and with a teasing smirk he slowly pulls his hoodie down. Your breath catches as his neck comes into view, bare and smooth.

Then with deliberate care, he removes his hat. His hand runs over his scalp, and your heart stutters in your chest.

“Austin…” you breathe, stepping closer your hand moving on instinct, your fingers brushing over his jaw. You trail them up to his temple, your touch lingering near his ear

His hair is shaved to his scalp in a buzz cut. Gone is the tousled golden hair you’ve always loved, replaced with something new, something rugged, and undeniably masculine.

You’re shocked, taken aback by the change. You loved when he changed his hairstyles, but this? This was something else entirely.

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice tinged with curiosity as he takes your hand guiding it to the back of his head letting you feel the velvety texture.

You can’t stop staring at him the change has brought out something different in him, something striking.

His jawline is sharper now, his cheekbones are defined and everything about his face suddenly has a chiseled, rugged edge.

“You look so different,” you finally manage, your voice surprised as your palm smooths over his head, feeling the texture.

He grins, his confidence growing as he sees the way you’re looking at him.

“Do you like me different?” he teases, his grin widening as he guides your hand down to his chest.

His words ignite something in you, and before you can second-guess yourself, you’re pulling him closer, your lips crashing into his.

He groans into the kiss, his hands sliding down your back, pulling you flush against him. The heat between you is instant, building fast as his mouth claims yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

You tug at his hoodie, and he helps you strip it off, his shirt following in one smooth motion. Your hands are on him immediately, roaming over the broad planes of his chest before returning to his head, and he groans when your fingertips graze along his scalp.

“Feels so good,” he whispers, his lips finding the sensitive spot just beneath your ear.

You tug at his waistband, and he immediately unbuttons his jeans, his lips never leaving your neck. His kisses are hot and urgent, his breath brushing against your skin as he works his jeans loose and kicks them off with one swift motion.

His fingers slide to the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your hips along with your panties as his mouth trails lower, leaving a fiery path across your skin.

Your hands find his head, holding him to you as he kisses along your chest, his fingers quickly unclasping your bra before he pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it aside without hesitation.

You’re both breathless by the time every piece of clothing is removed, your naked bodies pressed together, heat and desire consuming you both.

His hands grip your waist, firm and commanding, as he guides you toward the spacious bed together, your lips never parting as you kiss.

His hands slide down to the back of your thighs, lifting you just enough to place you down on the bed.

You can feel the strength in his arms, the heat radiating from his body, and the way he’s so achingly focused on you, his blue eyes filled with desire as he kisses down your body.

By the time his lips find your clit, you’re already wet with need, your body trembling in anticipation. His hands spread your thighs, fingers digging into your skin as his face lowers between them.

He pleasures you with his mouth, his tongue moving with precision, swirling and flicking, while his hands hold you firmly in place as you writhe beneath him lost in pleasure.

You can’t stop touching him, your hands constantly moving to his head, grazing the skin.

“Austin,” you gasp, your voice breaking as he groans against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. “Don’t stop…please don’t stop.” you whisper.

Your thighs tremble against his head, and he grips your hips firmly, keeping you in place as his mouth works you over with unrelenting focus. The tension builds, spiraling higher and higher until the pressure finally snaps.

You cry out, your hands holding his head down as you push against his face, your release crashing through you in waves. His mouth doesn’t stop, his tongue unrelenting as he groans, devouring every ounce of your pleasure until you’re shaking beneath him.

As you try to catch your breath, he moves up your body, his lips brushing against your stomach, then your breasts, until he hovers over your face, his eyes filled with pride and desire.

Before he can pin you down, you press your palms firmly against his chest, catching him off guard. His eyes widen slightly with surprise, but then a look of understanding crosses his face, allowing you full control as you gently roll on top of him.

You straddle his hips, sliding your hand between your legs to guide his hard cock into you. The sensation makes you both gasp as you slowly glide down on him, his head tilting back as his hands grab your hips.

“Fuck,” he pants, his voice deep with unrestrained pleasure as his fingers dig into your skin. “You feel… so perfect.”

You begin to move, your hips rolling back and forth, overwhelmed by the pleasure of him stretching and filling you completely.

His eyes flutter shut when your fingertips graze over his head again, and a soft moan escapes your lips as his fingertips dig into your hips, urging you to move faster.

You lean in, kissing him deeply, your movements syncing perfectly as the intensity builds between you. 

His hands slide up your back, gripping your shoulders tightly as his hips buck up, thrusting his cock into you. 

You feel the pressure of him hitting the perfect spot inside you of over and over again until you orgasm, your cries of pleasure filling the suite, blending with the faint sound of waves crashing outside the open balcony doors.

You barely have time to catch your breath before he flips you onto your back, his eyes filled with determination.

He holds your wrists above your head pinning you as he kisses you deeply, his hips sliding between your thighs. 

When he thrusts into you, hard and deep, the stretch is almost unbearable, making you cry out in pleasure as his hands slide to your hips.

Each thrust of his cock feels deeper and more intense as you moan for him your hands caressing the back of his head. 

Your fingernails graze down the base of his skull and he shudders violently as a guttural groan rips from his throat.

“Fuck  … you feel so good,” he mutters, his voice rough and incoherent, completely lost in pleasure. “I… I need to be deeper, I need to feel all of you.” He whispers his words raw and desperate.

His hands move beneath your hips, tilting them up as he thrusts even harder. His lips and tongue trailing  over your throat as you gasp, your body arching beneath him from the onslaught of overwhelming stimulation. 

Your nails drag down the back of his head as you begin to orgasm, making him groan as he thrusts into you faster.

His grip under your hips tightens, almost bruising, as his thrusts become wilder, harder, deeper, driving you closer to the edge with every snap of his hips. 

The tension in his body is undeniable, his muscles straining with each powerful thrust, completely consumed by the feeling of your walls fluttering on his cock.

Your moans turn into desperate cries as the pleasure builds to an overwhelming peak. 

The tension snaps, your body shuddering uncontrollably as your orgasm crashes over you, your nails gripping his head as you scream his name.

The sound of your pleasure sends him spiraling, his thrusts growing erratic as a deep groan escapes him, his voice breaking with desperation.

“Fuck… you’re gonna make me come,” he rasps, his voice trembling, the word's breaking off as he tilts his head back, his eyes squeezing shut in pure ecstasy.

A deep, guttural groan rips from his chest as he thrusts deeper, his release surging through him with unstoppable intensity.

You feel the sudden warmth of his come, his cock twitching with every pulse. He lets out a soft, broken sound with each spasm, his hips jerking slightly as he empties himself, filling you completely.

His breaths are short and uneven as his body trembles, until finally, he collapses against you, his weight pressing you into the bed grounding you in the hazy afterglow.

His heart pounds wildly against your chest as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“I guess you’re… okay with the buzzcut” he says breathlessly, his voice laced with exhaustion and a hint of teasing.

You laugh between breaths, your fingernails trailing lightly over his scalp. “I’m going to enjoy every  moment of this until your hair grows back,” you pant, your voice soft but full of playful affection.

He grins, shifting just enough to look at you. “I could live with that,” he says, leaning down to brush a lazy kiss against your lips and you smile, gliding your palm over the back of his head.

🪒 End

🔗 Masterlist

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[diceroll65]

party animal part two - b.e

billie eilish x fem!reader

a/n: part two finally! thank you all so very much for the patience <3

summary: you are recovering from being cheated on by your now ex-girlfriend, and decide to attend billie's party where you know she will be. (billie is NOT the ex-girlfriend in question btw)

warnings: fight! fight! fight!, discussion of unsatisfying sexual encounters, degrading terms (whore), little bit of fluff at the end

part one, part two, part three

previously.... "all of a sudden your eyes completely widen as very harsh knocking is coming from the other side of the door"

you look to billie with a startled expression, frantically pulling your dress back down. billie helps fix any ruffles in your dress, and motions for you to fix the smeared makeup from under your eyes. you attempt to wipe the smudged lipstick off your chin, as billie tries wiping the lipstick off her lips.

the knocking continues to get more aggressive, now coinciding with tay's voice. "i know you're in there, y/n" tay growls, as you can feel her glare through the door. "stop being a bitch and open the fucking door", tay says, now jiggling the handle. you swing the door open with a spew of confidence, locking eyes with your deceitful ex-girlfriend. the music now engulfs your ears once again, as people remain dancing. "what do you want, tay?" you ask, your voice oozing with annoyance. "i know that you're not asking me that right now" tay rolls her eyes, "looks like you're in the middle of something" tay states, now glaring at billie. "well... i was" you say with a playful smirk, maintaining eye contact with tay. tay laughs, "you're such a desperate whore, fucking household names just to get back at me" your eyes widen at her statement. "you flatter yourself thinking I fucked her just to get back at you" you retort, in a dangerous tone. "it actually just ended up happening, but i'm glad it did. I was finally able to experience a real orgasm" you say, with people now listening in on the conversation. "ohs" and "damns" begin to fill the room, as tay is now staring at her air Jordan 5s, swallowing harshly.

"is that why we haven't fucked in so long? did I not satisfy you?" tay questions in a surprisingly gentle tone. "this is not the time for this, tay" you express, sternly. "even if it was the reason, you had no right to go fucking other people" you say, shifting your weight slightly. "why didn't you just come to me about this, y/n?" tay probes, her eyes softening. "we wouldn't even be here right now, acting out like this" tay says, inching towards you a little. "and who the fuck put us in this position, tay?" you question already knowing the answer. you get closer to tay's face. "you gave into the temptation, not me. so don't try and make me out to be the whore or blame me for reacting accordingly to what you did" you argued, stepping back from her gesture. tay's expression hardens since you were not giving into her sorry attempt of justifying her choices.

"oh just admit it. you were dying to fuck other people as soon as you found out" tay states, looking around for approval from the attendees. "the audacity..." you said internally. "nah, we're not all shitty people, tay" billie chimes in after staying silent during the previous argument, allowing you to get out what you needed to. billie gently grabs your arm, guiding you to stand behind her. her arms are now crossing over chest, projecting her face up while maintaining eye contact with tay. "what the fuck did you just say?" tay sternly questions, her stance stiffening. "not everyone who is in a long term relationship dreams about seducing others. you're deflecting" billie says, now holding onto her hips. "this is none of your fucking business, eilish" tay states, now overstepping billie's personal space. "she is not your girl anymore, bro" billie remarks in an irritated tone. "she doesn't owe you anything."

tay initiates a push, striking billie's chest. billie straightens up after, walks towards tay with her arms folded behind her back. "you are making a fool of yourself" billie softly mentions, smiling. tay pushes her again, this time a little more forcefully. "you don't want to fuck with me" tay snarls, locking her jaw. "and what will happen if I do?" billie says, antagonizing tay with her proximity. in response to this, tay's fist collides with billie's jaw, diverting billie's attention to look over her right shoulder. billie comes back at tay with an overhand punch, leading tay to stumble backwards. billie laughs, mockingly hand motioning for tay to come back towards her. "come on" she says, her voice now infused with adrenaline. tay comes back with an assertive punch to the apple of billie's cheek. billie's adjusts back to her straight posture, her foot finding itself slamming into the back of tay's knee. tay is now on the ground, as billie gets on top of her and begins repetitively punching her in the face. you now step in and snatch billie off tay, allowing for tay to get off the ground. she begins to approach once again, causing you to step in front of billie. "this is embarrassing, tay" you say, with a disappointed expression. "do yourself a favor and just go" you offer, subtly directing towards the door with your head. tay with a now bloody nose frantically looks around, and drops a "fuck you guys" while making her way towards the door. she exits the house, slamming the door behind her.

you turn to billie, who now has a plum-colored jaw and gently investigate the bruising. billie winces at your touch, causing you to gently let go and let out a soft "sorry." billie's attention is now facing the ground, as she shakes her head, laughing at what just occurred. you grab billie's shoulders, causing her to divert her attention back up to you. her face softens in reaction to seeing your conflicted expression. "i'm so sorry billie i dont even know where to star-" "no" billie cuts you off. "you did nothing wrong. not in any shape or form" billie states, reassuring you. "she is a fucking idiot for cheating on you in the first place, and then to think she can say all that shit to you" billie says, clenching her jaw as she mentally replays what tay said. you nod while looking down at your pumps, clicking your heels together softly. billie takes her hand and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, causing you to meet her longing gaze. "how anyone could take you for granted is beyond me" she expresses with a soft smile, showing obvious discomfort from the pain. you smile back, grabbing her hand that is intertwined with a piece of your hair and interlock your fingers together. you bring her hand up to your lips, as you gently pressing them to the fairies that are etched into her skin. she smiles at your gesture, with her eyebrows gradually beginning to furrow.

"so you're telling me she's never made you finish?"

part three -> so you don't have to scroll all the way back up! :D

[hoe4sports]

If you were to go

Alessia Russo x Reader

-A part of the “a version of you” series.

A/N: This is a super short one, I’m still trying to get my writers block away. Feels like we are one step closer to figuring out this maze of doubt.

Warning: None

Summary: A fear strikes Alessia, and she instantly feels a need to sort it out, even though she most likely will never have to deal with the situation.

-

Shortly after moving to England, all the way from Norway; you got back in contact with an old friend of yours. Your old friend was Frida, who happened to play for the same club as Alessia. After your move, you and Frida had grown close. She brought you to her football matches, and you would meet her down on the field afterwards. It was pure routine. Eventually, Alessia get pregnant by a Norwegian donor. She had read tons of articles about children being estranged from their culture, so she brought you in to help Leonora learn Norwegian. The little project was a success. It was so successful that you and Alessia ended up falling in love, before moving in together.

The relationship between the three of you had been closely monitored by Alessia. She wanted her daughter to know, and own her story. For Lionora’s life, that meant knowing that you weren’t her real mother. She wasn’t bothered by it, being like most children; their normal was what they were used to.

Alessia had left for camp, and she didn’t want to bring Lionora. Lionora was older now. That included faster and sneaky which meant that she needed supervision at all times. Her conclusion was that she wanted Lionora to stay behind in England with you when she went to play Spain. Time had practically flown by, you loving every chance to have some special one on one time with Lionora.

“Når kommer mommy hjem?" Lionora asked squirming around on her chair by the kitchen table. “Hun kommer i kveld, bunnies or piggies?» you asked, the little girl barely sitting still. “Braids!” she squealed back. Her reaction made you giggle. This was your special routine every day. When she had breakfast, you would carefully do her hair for the day. Her favourite was always the braids even though it was the hardest to do considering sitting still wasn’t her favourite activity.

Her hands were eating the dry cereal she had insisted on for breakfast, happily munching away on the dry bits. She’s become a big girl. At least that’s what she thinks, but to you: she’s still that tiny doll-like baby you met 3 and a half years ago.

You practically raised her as your own. You would talk Norwegian to her, make Norwegian food, braid her hair, place bandaids on her wounds, bring her to football practice and pick her up from nursery. She even knew your parents back in Norway, occasionally FaceTiming with them in Norwegian. Alessia had tried to learn Norwegian, but couldn’t advance further than the basics mostly because of her obstructed time. She didn’t feel bad about it, whatsoever. She loved that the pair of you had your own culture to share between you, it mended your souls together in a way that Alessia couldn’t grasp.

You knew everything that there was to know about Lionora. She loves blueberries, but cherries are yuck. She loves jumping on the trampoline, but hates the swing . She loves bananas, but she’s allergic to it unless it’s baked or cooked into something. She loves Norway and England. She loves to go see your parents, and she loves when they call her Nora. She think it’s her Norwegian name. She is already a kitty girl, but she’s scared of your bother’s parrots. You think it’s strange, how you can love someone like your own without being there from day one. How your parents has submerged her into your family by giving her Christmas presents, birthday presents, sending easter eggs from Norway and how they like to spoil her because they insist on her being the first grandchild.

Subconsciously, you might say that you were meant to be a family. You and Alessia share the blonde hair and the blonde eye colour with Lionora, but you and Lionora has an extra Nordic touch. One thing you had in common; was your love for slow mornings like these. You carefully braided her hair back, bringing strands of her long hair together without tugging on it too much. Alessia also loved slow mornings; she would usually sit across from Leonora drinking her coffee while eating breakfast admiring the love that filled the room whenever you braided her daughter’s hair. Whenever she couldn’t be here, she was always trying to FaceTime you before training and pre-match walks.

“Huh, mommy, FaceTime!» Lionora squealed when your calm morning was interrupted by Alessia’s need to see her girls. You held her hair in place, while putting the phone towards the flowerpot so she could see Lionora without her having to hold it.

“Hi mommy! I miss you so much” Lionora said while waving her little hand at the screen.

“I miss you too, love. How did you sleep?” Alessia asked taking a sip of her coffee.

“I dreamed about a cat! Can I please please please have a cat? A black little cat called midnatt” Lionora insisted while gesturing with her hands.

“A cat? Why? And what does midnatt even mean?” Alessia wondered, amazed with how much Norwegian her daughter had learned without Alessia needing to know a single word.

“Mommy, duuuh, you know why! Bestemor and Bestefar in Norway has an black cat» Leonora said while leaning her elbows on the table supporting her head. “and midnatt means midnight, right y/n?” She asked, turning to look at you for confirmation. You nodded while trying to grasp her braid before it had the chance of undoing itself.

“Let’s talk about it when I get home, alright?” Alessia suggested with Leonora seemed to happily set on. “That’s not a no!” She sung out before giggling to herself.

“How many days until mommy gets home?” Alessia asked looking at her daughter’s happy face on the screen. The longing for her home was rapidly growing, and every camp brought along a new level of guilt for missing out on important events and milestones.

“Uhh, this many days!” Lionora screams out holding up her hands with no fingers to the camera.

“Yes, mommy is coming home tonight” Alessia exclaimed while relaxing knowing her family was waiting for her. Lionora had her mouth filled with cereal leaving a comfortable silence in the room until the moment was ruined by Lionora’s mind.

“Mommy, what’s gonna happen if you go sleep forever?”

Alessia’s mouth dropped with her eyes wide in shock of what her daughter had just managed to spit out.

“Sweetheart, what do you mean?” Alessia hummed while looking at the screen.

“If you were to go sleep forever like Hannah’s mom, where am I gonna stay?” Leonora said still busy munching away, while her hand was busy drawing up a cat with her crayon.

“Because when Hannah’s mom slept forever, she couldn’t stay with her dad, she had to go to a new family” Lionora said her hands busy drawing out a wonky looking sun.

Alessia bit her lip conflicted whenever to tell the truth or offer a quick lie. The truth was complicated, and she hadn’t really discussed it with you. You just assumed that you would be the caretaker, but she wasn’t yours legally. Alessia was all for honestly and transparency, allowing her daughter to own her own story. Your fingers were busy braiding Leonora’s hair, trying your best to not interfere with the private moment between mother and daughter. In fact, you had a strong desire to sink into the ground because this was not a comfortable conversation to have over the phone.

“That’s not going to happen, you silly monkey, but if it were to happen, you would go stay with grandma and grandpa” Alessia said, carefully awaiting her little mini’s reaction.

Lionora looked up at the screen with a confused look in her face, her brows furrowed. She scrunched her nose before tapping her chin.

She pointed her crayon towards Alessia, before putting in her mouth to chew on it. Then it hit her like a train. If mommy was to die, she would go live with her grandparents across the country. That meant never seeing mamma or Bestemor or bestefar or midnatt. Her Lip started wobbling slowly.

“But, But, why not stay with mamma?” Lionora spoke out, barely even whispering while her eyes became more glasslike by the second. Her gaze shifted towards the drawing while her hand stilled.

Alessia felt her heart pang at her daughter’s reaction to stay with her grandparents. She had never thought about what were to happen if she would pass, only assuming that you would be the one the take her daughter. But, in a legal sense, her daughter would be passed to her parents without your involvement or your consent. The thought struck a fear in Alessia, feeling a sudden urge to so whatever it would take in order to have you as her next of kin. But poor Alessia, was for once at a loss for words.

Anger started building up in the 4 year old who crossed her arms before looking up on the screen again. Her face went from sad to angry.

“Grandma and Grandpa dosent even understand Norwegian! Mamma speaks English AND Norwegian!” she pouted while waiving her arms before recrossing her arms across her chest as you secured the last elastic around her last braid.

Alessia looked at the furious little girl on the screen while scratching her neck in distress. Her heart broke when she saw Lionora push her chair out before stomping out of the frame into the hallway and eventually into her room.

“Ah, shit, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to upset her or to give you more work” Alessia muttered out, looking out of the window. The feeling of defeat weighing heavy on her shoulders.

You picked up the phone before settling in by the couch.

“Don’t worry, love. She’ll understood when she gets older, she’s just being a toddler” you comforted looking at the blonde across the screen. “Toddlers have big feelings and they tend to get dramatic.”

“Yea, sure… Well, gotta go, see you two later” Alessia emerged, eager to get out of the conversation. You smiled at her only to be returned a firm smile back before sharing your goodbyes. As the call ended, you put your phone down before preparing yourself to lighten up Lionora’s mood.

-

Alessia arrived later that evening feeling rather defeated. Her game had gotten paused for 15 minutes due to a technical error leaving the game to be delayed. This eventually lead to them rushing through the airport, only to find out that their flight was cancelled due to a technical problem.

In the desperacy of the moment, she purchased a ridiculously expensive first class ticket, leaving the girls behind in an attempt to be home by bedtime. The last thing Alessia wanted was to was to upset her little girl even further; but that ended up being unavoidable. Lionora had fallen asleep in your arms on the couch just a few hours before Alessia walked into your home.

“Hi love, I missed you! How was your flight?” you said while dropping the book you were reading to give her a hug. Your smile eventually faded when Alessia dropped her backpack and her bag in the middle of the room.

“I just had the most horrible 24 hours” she whispered, tears in her eyes.

You wrapped her into a warm embrace, holding her tight while rubbing her back softly.

“I know, I’m really sorry that I couldn’t do anything about it” you whispered into her neck, tucking her hair backwards.

Alessia’s body relaxed into yours as her arms found your waistline.

“You couldn’t have done anything different if you tried, i just wish I could’ve done something about it sooner” she huffed, rubbing her thigh softly.

Her sigh laid thick in the air, really underlining the frustration of the situation.

“As long as you are not able to foresee the future or take a class in aircraft engineering then I think this is something that can occur every now and then” you chuckled trying to lighten her spirit unsuccessfully.

“Well, I made lasagna; care to join me for a meal?” You offered, instantly seeing Alessia’s head shoot up. Her gaze met yours before a soft smile spread across her lips.

“You always know just what I need, darlin’”

The pair of you moved to the kitchen, enjoying her family recipe while you asked her all about her adventure for this round of international break. Stories of how Leah had annoyed everyone with her newfound passion for country music, and how Mary had tried breakdancing in the hotel lobby after being inspired during the Olympics left you sitting in awe of the fantastic bond the girls shared. After her stories, the conversation came to a comfortable end while the pair of you were both busy enjoying the Italian meal.

“I never asked you, how do you feel about what she said?” Alessia asked, her fork shoving pieces of salad around on her plate.

“About what who said?” You questioned, waiting to meet her gaze unsuccessfully.

“Lionora, you know, about what would happen with her if I pass?” she mumbled, almost scared for you reaction even though she knew within her that you would take her in a heartbeat.

“I think that she’s a very curious little girl, and they tend to ask hard questions. The same kind of little girls also tends to have big big feelings that they need help to cope with” you shrugged, not really sure Alessia was heading with the situation.

“I talked to mom about it, while waiting on the flight. She gave me some good insight that I haven’t considered before” Alessia said, now playing with the zipper of her top.

“Oh, really? What did she say?” you tried to encourage her, even though you finally knew where this conversation was going. It wasn’t a secret that you had thought about it before, that it would be nice and all, but you didn’t want to push Alessia too hard.

“She said that even though they would always welcome Lionora, and you-“

You reached for Alessia’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze causing her to meet your gaze instantly feeling more relaxed.

“-That the best thing for Lionora would be to stay with you. You know everything about her, and if god forbid something happens; she’ll need normalcy, routine and comfort in knowing what her days look like.” Alessia continued, now more confident in her voice with her gaze striking your every few seconds.

“That makes sense, yes” you smiled as you nodded softly, popping a cherrytomato into your mouth.

“Would you consider adopting her? You don’t have to answer it now, I know that it’s a big commitment and all, but you know her better than any-“

Alessia started to ramble, one of her many ways to cope with sensitive subjects was to avoid any kind of silence meaning that the only thing that could shut her up, was for you to stop her before she would spiral down into the lane of negativity.

“Yes, I’d definitely adopt her” you said, a part of you wanting to jump with joy over having her share her most important role with you.

“Wait, really? Honestly?” Alessia said, surprise lingering in her face.

“Yes, she’s like my own daughter. I care more about her than myself. I would love to make it official” you confirmed, reaching to wipe some sauce off of her face with a grin hiding in your face.

“You are amazing, I love you so much. She’s gonna be ecstatic when we share the news with her.” Alessia said, tears filling her eyes once again as your fingers intertwined and her gaze was filled with tears of gratitude.

[kirain]

Part six of my appreciation project.

@sirchik A fic based on their wonderful art piece here and here. Thank you for feeding the fandom!

Emmrich shivered as he huddled on the couch, scarcely drawing any warmth from the fire he'd conjured. His breath was shallow, throat raw from the relentless coughing that left him weak and aching. He had draped a blanket over his shoulders, but it did little to wane the enervating chill in his bones.

Manfred had helped him to the study, but he didn't want the frolicsome wisp to waste his entire day watching him suffer. Instead, he'd told him to go play with Davrin and Assan—and Manfred, not grasping the gravity of the situation, eagerly obeyed.

"That's it, Manfred. I'm sure Assan has shed a few feathers. Feel free to—" He gritted his teeth, dizzy, his lungs throbbing. "To... make something pretty out of them."

He kept a brave face, but the moment his skeletal protégé disappeared down the hall, a strained wheeze escaped him, his head sinking back against the cushions. He hated this. He hated the frailty that came with sickness, the way it stripped away his strength and left him vulnerable. At his age, illness always felt like a cruel reminder of mortality—a whisper in the back of his mind that he wasn't going to live forever.

But the worst was the solitude.

He'd spent too many nights curled up alone, longing for someone who cared. He had always dreamed of a lover's gentle touch—a hand smoothing damp hair from his forehead, fingers lacing through his own as he drifted into fevered sleep.

A fantasy, nothing more.

"Palee..."

The name slipped from his lips before he could stop it. He knew he couldn't, but he wanted to see him, to be held by him.

His breath hitched, his mind wandering back to the day they met.

-----

The redheaded elf strode into the Necropolis with an undeniable presence, his piercing blue eyes locked on Emmrich as he made his bold request.

"Join us. Fight the gods."

Though immediately intrigued, Emmrich had little time to dwell on the offer before chaos erupted, his attention drawn to a distant scream.

"I'd be pleased to continue our conversation after I tend to some small business here," he said.

But it wasn't small. It was horrendous. Far more severe than he'd anticipated—Venatori zealots desecrating the sanctity of the tombs.

To his astonishment, Palee and his companions rushed to his aid, driving back the invaders and protecting the resting dead with a reverence Emmrich had never seen from outsiders. They were neither necromancers nor Watchers, nor even Nevarran, yet they treated the Necropolis with the respect it deserved, unshaken by the rituals and rites most considered unnerving—if not outright wicked.

As they fought, Emmrich caught glimpses of Palee between spells. He moved like quicksilver, his toned form twisting and striking with effortless grace, swinging an axe as though it were weightless—and Maker, his outfit accentuated every blow. His sleeveless cropped top clung to his chest, dipping into a deep, shameless plunge that revealed far too much skin for Emmrich's already-fraying focus. High-waisted pants hugged his hips, the lace-up front drawing Emmrich's gaze lower before he forced himself to look away.

He had only just met the young man, and yet...

As their opponents thinned, he looked back. A gold necklace with multiple pendants glimmered against Palee's sweat-slick chest, catching the torchlight as he slashed through his foes, and Emmrich hated how easily it pulled his attention. His concentration should have been on the Venatori, on the magic thrumming at his fingertips—but instead, he was painfully aware of the burly elf dancing through the chaos, radiant and confident, a fire burning in his eyes.

A distraction. He was a stunning, infuriating distraction.

When it was over, Palee faced him, grinning from ear to ear. "I think it's time for a proper introduction, Professor."

Without hesitation, he seized Emmrich's hand and pressed his lips to his knuckles.

The touch was fleeting, yet it sent a bolt of shyness through the older man, unravelling his carefully held composure. It was such a simple act of politeness, yet so foreign, setting his nerves alight in a way nothing ever had. Kindness from a stranger was rare enough—kindness from one who had witnessed his craft without fear was unthinkable.

Yet, this charming elf, scantily clad and courageous, seamlessly undid decades of negative encounters—decades of people running, avoiding, or blatantly accusing him of vile magic. As the feeling of Palee's lips tickled his skin, Emmrich's thoughts swirled, his fingers dainty against his own. He blushed furiously, but he didn't pull away.

He never wanted to.

-----

A deep cough wracked Emmrich's body, yanking him back to the present. Hunching forward, he clutched his chest, each breath burning in his lungs. His brow furrowed, his body torn between hot and cold, sweating and shaking. He barely heard the approaching footsteps until a familiar voice broke through his haze.

"You look awful."

His head lifted sluggishly, and through bleary vision, he saw Palee standing by the couch, a steaming cup of tea in hand. His usual smirk was softened by something gentler—concern.

"Y-you shouldn't be here," Emmrich choked, but Palee plopped down beside him, pushing the cup into his hands.

"Too late for that," he hushed. "Drink up."

Emmrich relented quickly, too tired to argue, and brought the cup to his lips. As soon as he swallowed, the heat soothed the rawness in his throat, and he hummed in relief.

"That's... better," he rasped, taking a moment to savour the taste—medicinal yet zesty. "Thank you, darling."

Palee grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Let's see if I can make you feel even better."

Without warning, he leaned in, capturing Emmrich's lips in a fragile kiss, leaving him just enough room to breathe.

The older man tensed, his febrile mind struggling to catch up. When it did, he pulled away and yelled, "Darling, no! I could be contagious."

Palee scoffed, brushing a thumb over Emmrich's flushed cheek. "I could be immune."

His lips curled into a playful smirk before he set the teacup aside and pulled Emmrich closer, tilting his head to kiss him again—slower, deeper.

"Let me take care of you," he purred, freely speaking the words Emmrich longed to hear.

Finally, he wasn't alone. Palee wouldn't allow it, not even when he was a clammy, feeble mess.

"Darling, I'm disgusting. I—"

"Shh. Come here, my heart."

Palee's hands were warm against the tender goosebumps on his skin, tracing over his arms, down his back—pulling him in like a moth to flame, tantalising but safe. Emmrich let out a whimper, grateful and yielding. This simple act, again so small but significant, nearly broke him. His eyes squeezed shut, overwhelmed by the kindness—by the way Palee held him as if he mattered.

"Let's get you nice and toasty," he teased, cradling Emmrich's head back to pat tiny kisses along his neck.

"Darling..." he gasped, his cheeks somehow swelling a deeper shade of red. "You really shouldn't—ah!"

Emmrich melted against him; he couldn't help it, his heart pounding. Years ago, he'd given up hope that anyone would truly care for him. Yet Palee—the strapping, adventurous elf who had swept him off his feet in every sense—accepted everything: his age, his necromancy, his troubled past with Hezenkoss. Every flaw, every insecurity. And as Palee continued to kiss him, licking and sucking at his skin, tugging the neckline of his nightdress down to taste more, Emmrich felt something stir in his soul.

He was loved. Unconditionally.

"Darling..." he shuddered, tears welling in his eyes.

Palee paused, cupping Emmrich's face and pressing their foreheads together. "No, my heart, don't cry." He kissed his nose, wiping his tears with his thumbs. "Or is that mucus?"

"Oh, for the love of—!"

Emmrich groaned, flustered and embarrassed, and tried to pull away, but Palee caught him, wrapping his arms around him and gently sliding a hand to the back of his head.

"I'm kidding!" he cried humorously.

But as Emmrich squirmed, Palee's demeanour shifted, his fingers threading through the older man's hair, calming him instantly.

"I've got you," he whispered, his milky eye sharp with sincerity. "Through rain or shine, in sickness and in health. I've got you."

Emmrich froze, his stomach fluttering at the sudden gruffness in Palee's tone. He had waited so long to hear a vow like that. And when Palee kissed him again, he returned it—pressing their lips together with a fervour that bared his devotion and drained his energy all at once.

"Let's get you comfortable," Palee said, his lips trailing lower.

"Please..." Emmrich begged, arching back instinctively.

But the fever was ruthless, and before Emmrich could fully lose himself in the allure of Palee's ministrations, darkness crept into the edges of his vision. His body sagged, exhaustion pulling him under.

"Whoops!" Palee laughed, catching him with ease. "Are you all right?"

"Ugh..." Emmrich moaned, barely conscious. "I-I'm sorry, dearest. I can't seen to... stay awake."

Palee smiled and gently guided Emmrich down, settling his head against his chest, his body nestled securely between the elf's legs. The couch was spacious, almost as if designed for two—or perhaps Palee refused to leave his side.

"You really are sick," he giggled, pulling the blanket over them both. "Sleep, сердце моё, and get better soon," he murmured, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into the older man's back.

Emmrich let out a soft sigh as his weary mind finally began to quiet, and with the steady rhythm of Palee's heartbeat in his ear, he drifted into a peaceful, protected slumber.

[artbyblastweave]

I've seen your capeshit posts thinking about The Boys, Worm, Invincible, the Big Two and their media landscape, etc. and I've enjoyed them a lot. You've got a good understanding of the creative and fandom forces surrounding the superhero genre. The one burning question that has sat at the back of my mind since I read Worm back in 2018, which I think you might have an interesting answer to, is simply this: IS an adaptation of that serial possible? Like in any practical sense? And would a mass-market Worm adaptation, however compromised by the adaptation process, have a positive or even significant at all impact on the genre going forward, and the way it's perceived both by hardcore fans and the average consumer?

People (including Wildbow himself at one point) have bounced around ideas for how you'd execute a tv adaptation of Worm, so I certainly don't think it's conceptually impossible. It would definitely be hard, because you'd be kneecapped by the absurdly short runtimes of modern tv seasons and the long turnaround time between seasons. Worm also has a wealth of detail and scene staging complexity that would be really hard to reproduce in a visual medium where someone has to either dress up as or animate all those bastards. And as the third kick in the teeth, I've mentioned before that there are ways in which I think Worm is in conversation with the superhero genre and fandom as it existed in 2011- the MCU cape boom has really heavily altered the space. Reference how The Boys (comic) was really specifically swinging a bat at the post-crisis comic book fandom, but the much tighter and more critically successful and broadly appealing Tv show is swinging at the MCU and DCEU.

But something I think Worm still has going for it over basically every other cape thing is its status as a worldbuilding project. Even if you don't understand every single comics element that it's riffing on, it's a story that, despite having a single definitive protagonist, does a really good job of having the setting be a character in the world and not just a bare-bones launchpad for that single protagonist. If the adaptation could really strongly integrate the setting-specific ways in which there have been, like, procedural reactions to the existence of capes, cultural reactions- really capture the sense of accumulating entropy that characterizes the tone of the setting, the sense of everyone being caught up in dynamics too big for any individual to control, the sense that all of this is in some way adding up- it would be doing something that's really just really not currently covered by any cape adaptation that's gotten big. And tonally, this would pan out (in fact does pan out) as something unique as well, because the fact that there's this entire setting out there constantly disintegrating under its own weight juxtaposes really well with how Taylor is constantly fighting like a maniac to sandbag her own little corner of purgatory. I really can't think of another superhero work that strikes that balance! And it's a balance you can't strike unless you're able to convincingly render that disintegrating world.

[foxgirlmoth]

Okay, lets go through this apparent list of positives that Biden is in favor of.

Trans Rights: There have been multiple laws within states to fully close off especially trans kids rights to medical treatments and more. This is extremely current. Biden puts in minimal effort to look like he's doing anything at all for trans and queer rights, and there haven't really been any efforts aside from doing one or two proposals that immediately get shot down, and he's more than okay with that, hence why there's no longer really any push for this shit still. If you're trans, you can't piss in Utah without the risk of getting a fine right now. Even though these are state laws, the fact that there's been nearly zero effort federally to address this besides the title IX rule, speaks a lot about priorities in this area.

Abortion Access: Are we just forgetting the whole Roe V Wade getting overturned thing that happened in 2022? Are you really trying to say that this is good for abortion access? Abortion access has gotten actively worse.

Environmental Reform: Biden has endorsed extreme oil drilling projects and in general oil companies still love him! Not to mention the train crashes which we'll get to later.

Healthcare Reform: Covid-19 is still around and is sadly predicted to stay around for a long while. Healthcare is still private and a competitive field in the US and that causes major issues as well. If you look this up, you see articles titled along the lines of "Biden has lowered the cost of insurance" and meanwhile it just dropped in 2020 once during the pandemic but has been growing in cost.

Prescription Reform: Reading into this, not much has changed, which isn't surprising under genocide Joe. Drugs in the US are still higher than anywhere else in the world, and with healthcare issues still abundant, this is still a big issue.

Student Loan Forgiveness: Student debt is still extremely high in the US, and while Biden has rolled out some plans for forgiveness, it's a fraction of the debt, and he primarily uses the whole thing to win over swing states. This is a dangling carrot that provides very little overall.

Infrastructure Funding: Train crashes from 2020-present, worldwide, but notice the amount of US crashes! Neat! Quite literally just look up train crashes in the US during his presidency, there's too many to link here. It is also important to remember that Biden signed a bill to prevent rail strikes, preventing a lot of pressure to the government and the economy, which would have been a GOOD THING. Seriously, this guy has fucked up our environment and our rights in multiple ways.

Advocating Racial Equity: Structural racism within the US is still a huge problem, Biden hasn't addressed much. Also people are still in cages on the Mexico/US border (Which has been maintained by every president in office since it was established), with a very recent crackdown on the border.

Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion: Just. Look at the racial equity and trans rights sections above. Biden does the bare minimum, loves focusing on swing states, and all around uses the ol' carrot on a stick.

Vaccines and Public Health: Once again look above at sections on healthcare, abortion access, and prescription reform. Its bad. Remember how Covid-19 vaccines aren't being continued for free?

Criminal Justice Reform: This is just structural slavery still. Disproportionate amounts of black people are incarcerated, police are still heavily funded under Biden. He does not care about reforming the justice system, he even supports cops breaking up campus protests! Cool!

Military Support for Israel: Yup! Both sides suck! Biden has a very long history of sure hating Arabic countries though! He's done nothing but ship weapons and participate in the genocide of Palestinian people. Would Trump also do this? Yes. Does this mean this is an issue you should just drop and call a non-issue? No, what the hell are you talking about.

Israel/Hamas Ceasefire: Netanyahu has no plans to accept any actual ceasefire, yet Biden still provides weapons and support. Wow! That sure is weird? I wonder if Biden really cares about a ceasefire or how he just looks publicly.

Biden is not a good president, much less a good human being. You provided such a flimsy chart with zero resources or support behind you, and it just feels like people are just making shit up at this point. Get your heads out of the liberal cesspool you grew up in.

[sibbydoo]

[🕸] Project: SWING!

SWINGtember 15 - Ship!

They made a strange pair, the snake and cyborg. Both kept their true lives (define ‘true’ in their case, though) at arms’ length, ran from pasts which they did not deserve. Even when their paths overlapped, they were so drastically different; they were two sides of the same coin.

[fickleminder]

calling all angels

When the testing of your growing power causes you to collapse, the angels come to your defense.

I’ve been reading Simeon fics lately and then NB Lesson 54 happened. I suddenly recalled Neo using the Force against Sentinels during that last part in Matrix Reloaded and thus this fic was born.

“Raphael!”

You instinctively threw one hand forward, causing the lunging chimera to thrash mid-air, holding it up by an invisible force which prevented it from sinking its claws and fangs into the two of you.

Swinging your arm to the side, the beast followed; it was flung out of the clearing and sent crashing through several trees, but its angry roars could still be heard from a distance even as your knees began to buckle.

The tip of Raphael’s spear hit the ground first as he rushed towards you. He managed to catch you before you hit your head, and then suddenly Simeon was there too, hovering over you with frantic whispers of your name.

You were limp and unresponsive. They prayed that you had just passed out from exhaustion and would awaken after some rest. As the other half of the group arrived, Simeon stood up and spun around. If he still had his wings, Raphael imagined they would have been spread out threateningly.

“Simeon, how is—”

“This has gone on for long enough,” the former angel said, all traces of calmness wiped from his face. “I understand the need to test MC’s powers, but deliberately putting them and Raphael at risk crossed a line.”

Levi and Asmo cowered under his anger, but Lucifer held firm. “We’d never resort to such cheap tricks. This was the work of demons who opposed the royal family. We knew that if we were to hold the SF finals here, they would see it as a good opportunity to strike—”

“So you used MC as bait?” Simeon smiled, and that was when everybody knew they were fucked. Even Raphael seemed hostile towards them; he crouched over you protectively, holy spear at the ready to defend the vulnerable human in his care. “You’ve been testing them and pushing them until their body finally gave out. Are you satisfied with your results now?”

A chill ran up Mephisto’s spine. “I didn’t know it was possible to project so much anger while maintaining a smile…” He muttered under his breath.

“I’m too scared to move a muscle,” Diavolo whispered back. “It’s been a long time since—”

“GROOAR!!”

“That THING is coming back!” Levi wailed.

“Mephisto, it’s headed your way!” Asmo yelled in warning.

The demon noble straightened and raised his hands, determined to strike the beast down for hurting you. “Sinister spirit, return—”

A barrage of spears pierced through the chimera as it burst out of the tree line and resumed its attack. The sheer amount of Celestial magic practically obliterated it into smithereens, leaving behind only fading wisps of demonic energy.

“Thank you, Raphael.” Simeon turned back to scoop you into his arms, cradling you gently and holding you close as though you were the most precious thing in the three worlds. “Let us return to Purgatory Hall. MC will be under our care for the foreseeable future.”

No one dared to argue with him.

Raphael stood firmly between Simeon and the demons, leveling one last glare at the silent group before departing with you.

[moobloom-mention]

Every Action Has Its Equal Opposite Reaction

Summary: MK can't say he's ecstatic after being kicked into the ground during a sparring match with Macaque. It isn't too bad, though, as Macaque rewards him with noodles with the only caveat being MK finds them bowls to enjoy their takeout within.

But as he scrounges through Macaque's kitchen, the only two bowls he's able to find more resemble failed art projects than bowls. One more smooth and refined, the other far more clumsily made but with small engraved peaches and a fingerprint on its side.

Huh, that's kind of cute. Surely this won't lead him to bodily harm.

Content Warning(s): N/A

Word Count: Too many words 2963

Shout-out to @blametheeditor for helping me with the intro's fight scene. Goddamn do I struggle with fight scenes.

----------

“Ready?” 

MK grins. “Always-!” 

He nearly isn’t able to dodge a shadow staff that whizzes past him in time, not having realized they were starting now. Like, right now. He hadn’t even seen Macaque move and yet the shadow had already thrown the battle in his own favor. 

MK finds himself pinwheeling his arms in an attempt to remain balanced after his dodge, a desperate grasp for his own staff proving to be what keeps him from stumbling to the dojo’s hardwood floors. 

His teeth grit. 

Y’know, he would’ve thought that Macaque wouldn’t want to risk killing him during a training exercise of all things. And yet, nothing quite says “I want you dead” like forcing him into a vulnerable position whilst preparing another attack before he’s recovered from the first. 

...wait a minute. 

What little had been left of his confidence drains when he realizes why it’s likely a bad thing to see a shadow stretching out toward his feet. A shadow whose grin definitely doesn’t mean good things for MK. Nah, not in this sparring match. 

MK uses his staff to propel himself away from the looming shadow, twisting his body so he could roll safely back into a practiced defense stance. 

Not that he would ever brag or anything, but he avoids the possible incoming concussion flawlessly. Might he even say his defensive stance is something Macaque would’ve applauded him for if they weren’t mid-fight. 

MK barely catches the subtle shine of another shadow before Macaque erupts from it, his shadow staff raised over the head before being brought down. In the back of his mind MK can see that while the impact is devastating, it takes an awkward amount of time for the move to be completed. In the front of his mind, he can only imagine how the crevice left in the earth could’ve been his head if he hadn’t leaped away in time. 

Which, putting good news first, he isn’t knocked out! Bad news, his desperate attempt to save his own life had left his back to Macaque, meaning he’d more-so stumbled onto the ground in a flurry of limbs than truly laughed in the face of death. 

Far too aware he wouldn’t be able to stand before another attack, he rolls onto his back, yelping when a staff smashes onto the ground inches from his face. 

Heavens above, is he trying to kill MK or not? He thought they were cool! 

As Macaque lifts the staff above his head for another swing, MK forces his feet firmly into the ground, waiting until he’s about to be struck before pushing with all his might. The force pushes him over the incoming hit, a summoning of his staff giving him enough leverage to land more gracefully behind Macaque. 

When the next blow is delivered, MK’s own staff is there to meet the swing. Finally, some actual progress in pushing this match in his favor. 

Step, step, block. Step, step, block. The occasional near loss of balance whenever Macaque feints a left swing before making a right one. The loss of space between his opponent before he regains it when he makes his own feint of attack but only to withdraw himself slightly. 

It isn’t long before MK finds himself oddly confused amidst the controlled tempo of parried strikes. 

If MK could compare his own strategies of combat to a demon’s, Macaque could lay claim for his to be akin to a celestial warrior’s.  

They'd always looked refined and practiced.  

It’s why MK can’t help the nagging doubt that sits tight in his stomach when he notes the countless openings Macaque’s stance leaves. The monkey is pushing far too heavily into his strikes, making for slower recoveries despite the fast-paced match.  

It isn’t sloppy, but it isn’t the familiar polish of experience.  

A well-timed block forces Macaque’s staff into the floorboards of the dojo and MK lunges at the sudden opening.  

The faintest trace of disappointment registers in Macaque's expression before it hardens into something akin to disapproval.  

Oh fuck.  

Macaque’s staff reappears just in time to clash violently with MK’s own, the shadowed weapon’s surface wavering slightly. Dread tears through his skin; that waver isn’t from the power of his strike.  

That's the crumble of resolve and patience.  

He took an opening that wasn't meant to be taken.  

Despite the sudden change in tempo, Macaque’s redirection of power is far smoother than his previous strikes and the shadow’s triumph drains what little was left of MK’s confidence. 

Macaque’s lips twist into an ugly sneer and its familiarity in context strikes something primal at MK’s nerves. He’s done something wrong. 

His thoughts drown beneath the mantra that his stance is perfect. There isn’t anything for Macaque to hold over his head in terms of leverage, to use to turn this fight in his favor. His legs are shoulder width even while ariel and- and he’s using that one strike Macaque taught him months ago what could be wrong-? 

A tail made of obsidian fur wraps itself around his tail. 

“Wait-!” 

It’s too late. MK knows this game well. 

The tail yanks him forward. Straight into the boot that carves its home within MK’s sternum just as his lungs shriek. 

The sheer power behind the kick sends MK crashing into a beam, the wooden structure’s groan loud enough to smother his desperate wheezes for air. 

Between the spinning of his gaze his thoughts filter in. “Stay alert but regain your breath,” a prior lesson sings. “You can’t fight and gasp for air.” 

The shadows hiss with laughter and MK has to strain to hear Macaque above the pound of his own heartbeat. 

"...break something...the whole place will come down with it.” 

The original goal to recover peacefully slips through his fingers, rage a new fuel to feed into his fire. He stands if only to angrily gesture toward the beam. “You threw me into it!” 

“You shouldn’t have gotten cocky.” 

His eyes roll. Of course. 

“Don’t hold back, MK.” 

“You’re way too confident, MK.” 

Okay, guy. 

He’ll just go fight another city-destroying demon with his “too confident” strikes. 

As if able to read his thoughts, Macaque’s arms cross. Disapproval writes its own story between furrowed brows. “Don’t give me that face,” the shadow chastises. “You got bold and got it handed to you. Sloppiness won’t fly on the battlefield.” 

MK drops back to the floor with a huff of defeat. “Fine.” 

Macaque’s mouth curls around another word but MK can’t help the way his mind focuses on just how close the shadow’s crouched beside him. 

Suspiciously close. 

Like close enough that he could grab the other’s ankle if he really wanted to. 

“This’ll be a good stopping point,” the monkey hums and MK’s demand for violence rises slightly. “I’m getting hungry anyway.” 

Oh-ho, in that case- 

“I can grab us some noodles,” he chirps, using the staff as a pole to lean on in his scramble to stand. 

“Hold on, kid-” 

MK barely registers the familiar purple hue of Macaque’s clone before he collides with it. His attempt to catch himself does little to fix his accidentally slight. The clone looks disgruntled though its bag labeled “Pigsy’s Noodles” sits safe within its grasp. 

He smiles weakly. “Sorry?” 

The clone- whose grin looks a little too mocking this time around -thrusts the bag into his arms. It gives a short salute before a plume of smoke swallows it whole, leaving MK and Macaque to their own devices once again. 

“Ordered ahead of time; figured it’d be easier,” Macaque shrugs. “Now c’mere, I’ve been craving this all week.” 

Don’t need to tell me twice- 

The bag rustles as MK lunges to his mentor’s side, his hand already amidst an attempt to grab whatever Macaque had ordered for him. 

A loud hum interrupts MK’s interest, the bag falling into a shadow vortex before it reappears within Macaque’s grasp. 

If he didn’t know better, he would’ve said Macaque looked a little too happy with himself. 

“We’re gonna need some bowls. No offense, kid, but eating out of take-out-boxes is for slobs.” 

MK’s eyes bulge, offense blatant in the way his shoulders tense. His clenched fist waves, faux rage on his mind. “It’s not slobbish! ‘Sides, Monkey King does it all the time-” 

“My point exactly.” 

MK swoons to his left, clutching at his heart. He knows Macaque and Monkey King don’t have the best of history but if he doesn’t defend his mentor, nobody will. 

“Monkey king’s not a slob,” he protests. “He’s just…convenient?” 

“Kid, you don’t become a hoarder without being at least a bit of a slob.” 

…ok, fair enough, fair enough. Macaque’s got him there. 

Declaring this a loss, MK stands to fetch the requested bowls. He doesn’t go silently, feet dragging loudly against the ground with each step. 

“Cheer up!” Macaque calls, amused. “Moping isn’t gonna get you out of conditioning.” 

Nah, he huffs. It never does. 

Surprisingly, the dojo’s kitchen isn’t far from the main training room. It’s all the way down a hallway- one eerily lacking in the door department -where the space widens if barely to make room for a dark kitchen space. 

Flipping the light on, MK blinks once before the kitchen’s dim light flickers to life. 

Sheesh, Monkey King might be a hoarder but his kitchen has never looked half as disorganized as Macaque’s. Whether that’s because Monkey King doesn’t use utensils in the first place doesn’t matter in the long run. 

Monkey King 1: Macaque 0. 

MK’s careful as he navigates the small kitchen, minding his elbows as he begins to shuffle through the cabinets in search of bowls. Even just a step backwards is enough to press his back against the other countertop, a fact that sparks a fond memory of his own. 

The one- and only -time MK tried to find apartments to move into, Pigsy had insisted on accompanying him. It never mattered what apartment they went to; Pigsy always complained about the same thing: 

“The kitchen is just too small, kid. How are ya’ supposed to cook anything in this thing?” 

And so, MK had feigned ignorance over the true motive for Pigsy’s gripe and agreed that the kitchen space was a deal-breaker. 

After only a day of searching he proclaimed that finding the right place was in fact “too hard” and he’d just have to stay in the noodle shop for a bit longer. 

He blinks, forcing his knuckle between his teeth. 

Focus, MK, focus. Bowls, bowls, bowls- we need bowls! 

In all honesty, he thought finding bowls would’ve been waaaay easier than it’s proving to be. Each cabinet he opens either produces a bunch of items MK declares cannot be cooking related or a couple of miscellaneous plates too shallow for broth. 

At this point in his desperation, MK’s convinced that Macaque doesn’t own a single cup either. 

The only evidence that the monkey owns bowls in the first place is the handful in the kitchen’s sink, some still sporting old broth. 

At least, those and whatever on this green Earth was in the gap between the cabinet’s top and the kitchen ceiling. 

A closer inspection declares that the dishes seem like bowls, stacked on top of one another and looking like someone had hastily shoved them into the farthest corner. 

Oh yeah, this’ll work. 

MK nearly trips over himself climbing onto the countertops, eager to dig into whatever Macaque had ordered for him. Even on the counter the bowls are still too far back to reach. 

C’mon MK, you’ve got this. A little tippy-toe action never hurt anyone. 

An annoyed Macaque might, though. 

Much to his own relief, the two bowls are snagged with little to no struggle. He tries to keep his jump from the counter light; only the Heavens know how mad Macaque would be if he ended up breaking a floorboard by landing heavily on it. 

He peers curiously at his findings; now that he really looks at them, they aren’t really bowls at all. 

They’re more like poorly made clay clam shells, the indent itself shallow and its “lip” frilled in a way that wouldn’t be the best at sipping from. An attempt at pottery, MK concludes, but yeesh if its creator didn’t struggle with whatever image they were going for. 

One is definitely more refined than the other, surface smooth as he skims his finger over it. Its depth is just barely deeper than its counterpart too. 

The more disheveled one has bumps and bruises along its surface including a fingerprint and what MK is 50% sure is a peach engraved along its side.  

…it’s kinda cute, like its creator had tried to make up for its other imperfections. 

Still, MK glances back toward the pile of dirty bowls. They’d definitely be more ideal; one thorough scrub and they’d be good as new. 

That is, if Macaque has dish soap. Pigsy usually kept his on the counter but MK can’t see any even as he rummages through the cabinet below the sink. 

“Clock’s tickin’, kid! The food’s getting cold and we’ve still got conditioning to run through.” 

Ah, screw it. The misshapen bowls are good enough. 

With a quick rinse-off and a onceover, MK gives his own nod of approval before he darts back through the hallway. 

“Brainy kid to rescue,” he declares. “I found a couple of, uh, well-” 

Calling the lumpy things “bowls” wouldn’t quite be right. But then again, they definitely aren’t narrow enough to be failed incense plates. 

“-old bowls!” 

MK’s head lifts triumphantly, prepared for the resounding “-good job, kid/bud” © that both Macaque and Monkey King had gotten into the habit of offering. 

But silence only greets him, MK cracking an eye open to make sure Macaque hadn’t abandoned him. 

The shadow is right where MK remembers, almost eerily still. The only notable difference is the sudden roundness of Macaque’s eyes and the subtle childish spark of something that lurks there. If Mk didn’t know any better, he would’ve called it fear. 

“Macaque-?” 

“Where did you get those.” 

Gone is the witty banter that’d once infected the dojo, replaced with something far more sobering. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve assumed the drop in tone alone chilled the room. 

Tension lines Macaque’s shoulders, lips slightly curled just enough to show the tips of his fangs. MK’s never been bitten and he definitely isn’t finding out now. 

He falters, limbs heavy as he gestures vaguely toward the kitchen. “Uh, they were- the cabinets?” 

MK nearly jumps as a vortex forms just above his hand, the pieces of pottery disappearing into the shadows. The portal closes and MK flexes his hand just to make sure it hadn’t taken a piece of him with it. 

In a blink the tension in Macaque’s stance evaporates, movements once again fluid as he rustles through the bag until two tubs of broth and noodles are set down. He even grins as he produces two pairs of chopsticks. 

“You gonna stand there all day?” 

Is that an option? 

The nervous laugh MK coughs up only earns him a raised eyebrow, and he’s quick to take it as a signal of being in the clear. Despite the suddenly calm atmosphere he’s still slow in his approach, sitting a little further than normal from Macaque. 

MK shuffles his personal tub of broth and box of noodles closer to himself. It smells like Heaven, but that might just be how close MK actually is to death judging by the sheer fury radiating off Macaque. 

MK’s not sure why he waits to begin eating; he half expects another vortex to appear and produce two different bowls. Ones that don’t cause fear and anger to whomever stares at them. 

But the shadows stay silent and content. 

“Eat up,” Macaque grunts, already busy dipping his clump of noodles into the separated broth. 

“But I thought you said-” 

“Kid.” 

MK’s eyes snap to his tub of broth. He knows a warning when he hears one. If it were Monkey King he might’ve pressed it further, but Macaque’s limits are still new. 

Pushing it too far could cause a fight that MK definitely isn’t prepared for. He might be good, but he’s still not Macaque good. 

Who knows, the monkey could trap him in between two shadow portals and leave him “falling” for Heavens knows how long. MK’s shoulders shudder at the thought and he quickly grabs his own chopsticks. 

Macaque offers no further conversation as they eat, silence a companion in itself with how loud it feels. 

At least, silence and guilt. 

MK’s eyebrows furrow at the sheer amount of guilt that fills him each time he swallows a bite of noodles. He hadn’t accidentally gotten himself between a failed art-project, had he? 

…he had kind of implied that the bowls were terribly made. It would be as if Pigsy snooped in MK’s sketchbook and declared his drawings to look nothing like Monkey King. 

If not for the chopsticks in his hand, MK would’ve slapped himself. 

Good going, MK. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he murmurs. “You did really good with them.” 

There’s a beat of silence as Macaque’s expression morphs. His eyebrows pinch, confusion replacing the lurking fragments of irritation. 

“That’s sweet, kiddo,” Macaque mutters in a tone that says it isn’t. “But they really aren’t mine.” 

Huh. As far as he knows Macaque doesn’t have…friends. Er, at least anyone MK would categorize as a friend. 

“Holding onto them for someone else?” 

Macaque’s tail flicks and MK finds himself tensing, prepared for an explosion of anger. 

But the other only sighs, the final pieces of anger melting from Macaque’s tone until it can be molded into something akin to fondness. 

“Sure. We’ll go with that.” 

[grumpymiika]

Yandere alphabet!!! Ticci Toby version, please

♡ TW: Yandere, mention of kidnapping, dark content

Affection - How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Toby would display "affection" in a warped and intense way, driven by a possessive need. He doesn't know how to express love in a conventional sense; his gestures would be confusing and overwhelming, as though protecting you were merely a means of keeping you entirely to himself. His manner would be suffocating. Despite this, he would cling to you constantly, craving your affection like a starving soul. This man hasn't received any warmth in decades, so he’s ravenous for love and human contact, though he struggles to handle it.

Blood - How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He would set properties ablaze, creating chaos to capture you. He knows that with brute force, he could attain anything, and a touch of fear would only help. Moreover, Toby is utterly unpredictable; you can never anticipate when he’ll act or for what reason. He is a ticking time bomb.

Cruelty - How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

If he were to abduct you, Toby would likely act with a strange coldness, shifting between sickly tenderness and threats. He might mock you in a volatile way, with dark, twisted humor, finding a sick thrill in watching your vulnerability, which he “adores” observing.

Darling - Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling's will?

He would do whatever he pleased, disregarding your boundaries entirely. There would be no freedom of choice for you. He would turn you into a lifeless doll without your own desires because, to Toby, you are merely an object to be idealized, a means for him to receive the love he’s always lacked.

Exposed - How much of their heart do they bare to their darling?

He reveals everything. He would arrive late at wherever he keeps you, shedding all his traumas, expecting you to remove the sorrow from his heart. He might even project his sadness and rage onto you.

Fight - How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would feel betrayed. To him, you should simply be displayed on a shelf, showing off your beauty and showering him with love; fighting against this was never part of his plan. Don’t even think about running away—he would take it to an extreme level.

Game - Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

This is no game for him. He would hate any attempts to escape, as he sees them as a betrayal. Naturally, any such actions would be met with severe punishment.

Hell - What would be their darling's worst experience with them?

Dealing with Toby’s erratic and unpredictable emotions would be a living hell. Sometimes, he arrives more agitated, which is enough reason for him to strike or punish you. The lack of personal agency would be torture, as he would do whatever he pleased with you.

Ideals - What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He envisions a twisted fairytale. Once you learn to love him back, you’d have a child, and he’d become the father he never had. Toby imagines returning weary from his sordid deeds, greeted by you and his lovely daughter. This thought is his vision of heaven.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He is consumed with jealousy over anything, hating to see you breathe near anyone else. In his eyes, you belong solely to him, and he has no qualms about expressing his displeasure. He would shout, strike, or threaten anyone foolish enough to approach.

Kisses - How do they act around or with their darling?

His behavior varies with his mental state. Sometimes, he can be sweet, gentle, and affectionate; other times, he is rough, aggressive, and harsh. His darling would have to learn to endure his mood swings.

Love Letters - How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Toby might leave unsettling notes that only he understands, viewing these as tokens of his love rather than traditional approaches. He’d probably bring small gifts and exchange small talk. Nothing too much; he doesn’t know how to keep a conversation or how to win someone over.

Mask - Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not really. The only difference is his indifference toward others; they mean nothing to him. However, he remains the same erratic and unpredictable person with everyone.

Naughty - How would they punish their darling?

He is quite severe when it comes to punishment. Disobedience would be met without mercy, going to the lengths of breaking bones to ensure you never defy him again.

Oppression - How many rights would they take away from their darling?

All of them. You’d have no freedom to think or act independently. Walking alone? Not a chance. Talking to friends? Absolutely not. Dressing as you like? Unthinkable. Everything must go through his approval first.

Quit - If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

He would lose his mind. The world would be unbearable without you. He would likely create havoc to bring you back. And once he had you again, the punishments would be fatal.

Regret - Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Guilt is not part of his logic. He would rationalize that everything is necessary to keep you together, never seeing his actions as wrong.

Stigma - What brought about this side of them?

His possessive behavior stems from trauma and a twisted view of affection. His childhood lacked stable models of love and romance, shaped by the volatile relationship of his parents. To him, violence is just another way to enforce obedience, and his lack of love left him desperate for any affection, which he would never relinquish.

Tears - How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He would be furious, especially if you withdrew from him. To Toby, such reactions are mere tantrums, which he despises. Should you act this way, he would likely become angry and punish you.

Unique - Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Not particularly. He embodies many of the classic traits of a yandere.

Vice - What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

His depressive breakdowns and moments of emotional vulnerability. Toby sometimes becomes so depressed by his traumas and the life he leads that he merely clings to you. You could use these moments to your advantage.

Wit's End - Would they ever hurt their darling?

He would hurt you without remorse. To him, obedience comes only after instilling fear.

Xoanon - How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He adores you more than himself. There is nothing more precious than his beloved. He would do anything to keep you, though he has no concept of how to win someone over in a conventional way. Instead, he’d impose his brutal, illogical approach.

Yearn - How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

At most, two months. He would be studying your routine and, at some point, he would snap and capture you. Patience is not one of his strengths.

Zenith - Would they ever break their darling?

Most likely, his darling would be bound to break at some point. Toby wouldn’t care—he might even prefer it, as it would allow him to fully indulge in his twisted idea of family with you.

[ann1-wr1tes]

Catch these hands!

Synopsis: Leon is your mentor. At first he was apprehensive and not too happy about it. But now he realizes he may like you more than he thought..

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1,382

A/N: So here's another repost. Hope you all enjoy!!

-------

You pant as you shift your stance from foot to foot. Sweat dripped from your brow and down the back of your neck as your eyes narrowed in concentration and slight nervousness as the man in front of you seemed to not even break a sweat.

Then again you weren't surprised. It was Leon Kennedy we're talking about here. So of course it looked like he was having just another normal Tuesday but for you, a rookie that was new to the D.S.O, you could feel your anxiety creep up your spine. You'd be lying if you said that your mentor didn't make you a little nervous.

Since the first moment you met Leon you knew about his history with the government and the D.S.O. He started off as a rookie cop in Raccoon city, survived a horrible outbreak, then got recruited to the D.S.O where he very quickly became a huge name and even saved the President's daughter. Of course now he is different. He is older and more jaded.

You can tell by the way he carries himself, how he always has some sort of bottle in his hand that holds an alcoholic beverage, how his eyes look at you but at the same time it looks like he's looking right through you. It was a distant look that was glassy and dull.

You could also tell that he didn't intend on ever having to mentor anyone. Though that changed when the agency decided that Leon could use a little side project, a little distraction from all the harsh missions he was assigned to. So you were dumped on him.

Despite all the alcohol he drank and how he didn't take care of himself in the least bit, you could see that there was someone lying under the surface that would peak out every once in a while. You could see this mystery person every time you improved in a skill or took some of his advice and applied it to your learning.

It was almost enough to make your flutter when you'd turn to find him looking at you with an endearing smile. Though it wouldn't last long and he'd soon be back to his scowling grimace that seemed to be permanently stuck on his face. Despite this, the small smiles you'd catch him flashing in the corner of your eye or the small chuckle that escaped his lips on occasion was enough to make you want to learn more from him, learn more about him.

But right now you were learning hand-to-hand combat. Sparring to be specific.

You remember when you had first started to spar with Leon. It was nothing short of being humiliating. You'd swing one and he'd already have you twisted around and pinned to the floor. You'd try to catch him by surprise, he was always two steps ahead of you. It was almost like he could read your thoughts, like he could expect just exactly what your next move was.

As time went by you slowly improved but it was never enough to beat Leon and while it was frustrating and a little intimidating at times you took it all in stride.

"Don't take your eyes off me." Leon warned as he lunged forward towards you. "And don't forget what I taught you."

He pulled back slightly before making a sudden swing at you. You blocked it easily, blocking the other attacks coming your way. His strikes were quick and precise, always with no hesitation. Its like it was all second nature to him, his body moved instinctively with his mind. It was like a dance. But he never showed any emotion. It was always hardened stares and pursed lips.

As Leon throws another punch you grab his wrist and twist, trying to force him to the ground with a wrist lock. In response Leon yanks his wrist forward, pulling you along with it and as soon as you collide with his chest he spins you around and has an arm wrapped around your throat.

Quickly you tap his upper arm, signalling that you give up and he lets go. He releases your neck and backs up to keep a distance between both of you, watching you carefully, his arms folded across his chest. You take a deep breath as you wipe your face of the sweat.

"Again." He says. And without missing a beat you take a defensive position ready to attack and begin again.

This continued on until you reached your limits, your stamina dwindling rapidly and your movements slowed considerably due to exhaustion. Still, you were determined to win.

Leon waits for you this time. His eyes are trained on yours, waiting for an attack as he prowls around you slowly. As you reach to strike the first blow you watch a faint grin appear on his lips and then suddenly he lunges. The next thing you know you feel yourself fly forward, hit the mat hard, and then Leon is on top of you.

Struggling to get to your knees, you shove Leon off of you before he can pin you and you settle yourself on your knees, having both hands out ready to block or grip his wrists or a hand.

Leon goes to grip the collar of your shirt and he tugs you forward. He twists you around so you lay on your back and then goes to pin your wrists. Your mind scrambles to try to find a way out until suddenly a light bulb goes off in your head.

You buck your hips up and arch your back up, causing Leon to stumble forward and almost on top of you. Thinking quickly you hook a leg around his and you shift your weight, pushing him and you to the side so you can roll on top of him.

As soon as his back hits the mat you straddle him and plant your forearm right against his neck, making it a little hard to breathe and even harder to escape when you plant your foot down on his other hand to ensure it stays down.

You look into his blue gaze with determination and he gives you a smile. There it is. There's that pretty sight that you rarely get to see.

A rare smile directed solely at you. It almost makes your heart flutter but you have to remind yourself that he's your mentor. He'd never see you in any different light…right?

To solidify your victory, Leon taps out and you quickly roll off of him. You can't seem to contain your own smile as he sits up and looks at you with a look of pride.

"Not bad Rookie. Keep fighting like that and you may just take my job." He jokes and gets to his feet, offering you his hand. You accept it gladly and allow him to help you up.

"Any improvements? Or tips?" you ask, looking at him expectantly. That was the thing about you that he couldn't help but love so much. You were always willing to learn, always wanting to know more and improve. It was admirable, it was endearing. It reminded Leon of himself in some ways.

Without saying anything, Leon's hand comes up and tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

"Take it easy, you did good and you have more to learn but for now i'd say you're fine." He says and you smile wider. A real smile. One that reaches your eyes as well. Your cheeks redden a little and you look away.

"Thank you." you say with a genuine smile.

Leon waves you off and turns around, grabbing a water bottle and tossing it to you.

Despite how badly Leon would like to ignore it, he knew that there was some part inside of him that liked you a little too much. But as he watched you grow and improve and get stronger that feeling intensified. It was becoming more apparent to him every day that there was something special about you. But he'd ignore it…or try his best to.

But what he couldn't ignore was the swelling sense of pride that bloomed in his chest as he watched you drink some much needed water.

He was proud of you, so incredibly proud of you.

[ofstoriesandstardust]

if there is a right time (chances are i'll be here) (twisters - javi)

​​a/n: my little i can fix him character study that could! thank you my dearest @sometimesanalice for reading this and always having the best thoughts.

summary: Five years after a summer romance in Miami, you and Javi meet again. The boy still means such a great deal to you, even after all this time. If only he wasn't in love with another.

warnings: mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, swearing

word count: 6.6k

You met Javi nine months after the Tornado Tragedy that stole everything from him.

In Miami for an internship and fresh off a bit of a brutal breakup, Javi had all but stumbled into your life as his cousin “accidentally” pushed him into you at a breakfast place near his house.

The hurt that was woven into both of you was evident, even in the way you both laughed together on long, drunken nights and three am gas station runs. 

Maybe it’s the hurt that had drawn you together all along. 

It’s three months later, at the end of your time together, on the first year anniversary that you hold him through the night, a raw and wavering voice piecing together the fragments of that nightmare. 

It was like whispers of a confessional, soft against the storm that raged in his mind. Your fingers had run through his hair, reminding him that you were there, that he was alright. 

Two weeks later, you’d let him go. You let him go even though you knew you could’ve loved that boy someday, loved all the broken parts and pieces of him. 

Loved him despite the fact that he loved another. Would probably always love another, a striking, enigmatic force from his past who’d left his world as abruptly as his friends had left this world. 

It’s a shame, you think, to have lost a love you never really had. You never could really grieve that open wound.

Especially not when you left that door open for him, always looking for him in every grocery store aisle, in every smoky corner of a bar through the Midwest, every time you followed a storm with the windows down, hand feeling the humid air and warm rain as the sky tore itself in two. 

Still, you feel frozen as you see him across the parking lot of the motel, the skies opening as he ducks out of an all too familiar red truck. 

(Everyone in these parts knew that red truck and everyone in the storm chasing community knew in some way, a member or two of the Tornado Wranglers. An old bull riding friend, a classmate, a one night stand, a bonfire friend. You all knew them one way or another.)

Well, at least, you think it’s him. You see the curls before you ever see his face, and while it’s shorter now, you think you’d remember the build of a man you’d spent so many moments wrapped around, even if for a fleeting time. 

“Javi?” You have to shout over the pouring rain, stepping forward in disbelief, as you cup your hands around your mouth. You didn’t chase seriously, not really anyways, and had only convinced a few friends from college to come out under the guise of showing them a good time. By all accounts, seeing him here, now, would be near impossible. 

For a second, you almost don’t let yourself get your hopes up. You’ve looked for this boy in every corner of the world you’ve ever gone — how would he be here, in the soaked parking lot of some run down motel near the border of Kansas and Oklahoma?

You were only on a two day chase, following Ty’s team out but you hadn’t realized he’d be with them. You had heard rumors Ty had taken on a new business endeavor, something about taming tornados, but it had all felt so silly you’d blown it off. 

It had all felt so reminiscent of a friend you’d once known, of a project he’d believed so much in, it hadn’t felt real. 

-

His head perks up at the sound of his name, his head swinging wildly around the parking lot, before he spots you. His eyes grow wide in disbelief as giddy joy propels your feet forward, darting across the parking lot before you can even think about if he wants to see you. 

He lets out a laugh in disbelief as his body collides with yours, a warm rock against you as he tightly wraps his arms around your frame. 

“How are you here?” He sounds incredulous, almost as giddy as you, and you fist your hands in the slick material of his rain jacket. 

Your hair is longer than it had been the summer you’d spent in Miami, when you chopped it off all of five days after arriving, complaining incessantly about the humidity. 

You have a few new piercings and he thinks he might spy a tattoo peeking out from your shirt under your collarbone. 

“I- I work part time out at Muskogee as an adjunct. I bought a house out in Claremore two years ago.” 

A house. You’d bought a house. You’d bought a house — all alone? 

His eyes widen impossibly as his hands come to cover your own. “So- so like you- you being here in Oklahoma isn’t a fluke?” 

It’s the twinkle in your eye that almost makes him believe this is a dream he’ll wake up from. 

That look that says there has to be more than coincidence we both ended up here right now. 

That feeling deep in his chest that’s telling him strings of fate tugged you and Javi together to be right here, at this moment in time in your lives. 

He isn’t quite sure what to say to you.

He’d hopelessly thought of you for years to come after you’d left his life, the if onlys hanging around in the back of his mind, the fantasies of what he’d do if he ever saw you again comforting him on the darker days. 

But for all that he dreamed, he had never thought it would be a reality. 

-

“Are you-“

“So…” One of your friends say, and your head pops up, body turning to face her. You miss the way Javi’s face falls, the start of a question you barely heard lost to the wind. “If this little show is over, I’d like the room key, please.” 

“Piper has it.” You breathe as Javi’s hand travels down your back. 

“She-“ Bailey cuts herself off, face pinching in frustration. “She got stuck inside.” 

You splutter, brain short circuiting around a confused huff and a “I told her she needs to yank it”. Instead you turn, catching sight of more than one Wrangler peeking out their windows to watch you and Javi.  “Where’s Tyler?”

-

One unstuck door, a few hugs, and an hour and a half later, you find yourself crammed into a booth much too small to fit your friends and the Wranglers at a dingy roadside diner. 

You’re wedged between Dani and Javi and you giggle as Kate, through giggles of her own, regals the group with yet another tale from her and Javi’s undergrad.

“…So anyways, Javi is wasted right. And so is Addy, and she trips and Jeb and I, we both go to dive for her, to keep her from falling and slipping on the ice and when we finally get her righted, not without the two of us almost going down with her, cause I’m also drunk at this point, we turn around to find Praveen begging Javi to get out of the fountain they hadn’t had a chance to drain yet.” 

Javi’s face is crimson as the table roars in laughter, and you think you may not ever breathe again as silent giggles consume your whole being at the thought of a wasted nineteen-year-old Javi in a icy cold fountain during a surprise first snow, hollering about taming a tornado. 

It would be a good way to go out, you think, as Javi gives you a sheepish grin, air finally crackling through your lungs as a few tears slip down your cheeks. 

Tyler chokes on the other side of Kate and you slide down in the booth, shoulders shaking. Maria kicks your ankle under the table across from you, where she’s sitting in between Boone and Piper. 

“What the fuck are you laughing at? One time in college you stood at the stove for twenty minutes and couldn’t figure out why your food wasn’t cooking, all cause you had the wrong burner on! And you were sober!”

The table erupts again, much to the unnoticed irritation of the lone waitress, as Maria retells the story of the year you two had lived together, when you’d stood at the stove, unsure why your frozen package of fried rice wasn’t cooking, hoping to solve the problem with more olive oil. And boy, was there a lot of olive oil. 

“You don’t have room to talk Maria - you gave me a very expired jordan almond that nearly cracked a tooth!” You finally shoot back, earning you another round of laughter. 

After the table has finally quieted, a few stray giggles from Boone as he leans into Lilly, Kate pulls herself together enough to ask “Do you have a trademark chasing song?” 

Piper snorts into her milkshake. “Today we learned it’s A Pocketful of Sunshine… on repeat.” 

“Whoever used to get stuck in the van with Javi was made to listen to Salió El Sol by Don Omar probably about a dozen times.” Kate offers up in response. 

“You two are a match made in fucking heaven.” Dani comments under her breath and she groans, wincing as you deliver an elbow to her ribs. 

“It’s kind of ironic that both songs are about sunshine and you play it while chasing a storm when it’s very much not sunny.” 

Bailey frowns at Piper. “It’s almost like… that’s the whole point.”

-

“I still can’t quite believe you’re here.” Javi comments quietly as the two of you walk farther away from the source of laughter and noise, the twinkle of stars poking out from the sky streaked with clouds. It had been a good day, a good chase, and Tyler had ensured he led your friends to a great show. They were content to sit around a crackling fire, drawn in by the Wrangler charm (and you would never say, but you could see the looks Piper had been tossing Boone all night).

Javi puts his hands in the pockets of his jacket, licking his lips. “You know, I- I always thought about you. Where you were, how you were doing. What I’d do if I ever saw you again. A whole 50 states, countless cities, and who knew you’d be here in Oklahoma.” 

“Well, the Oklahoma part’s easy. I wanted a teaching job after finishing my masters and Muskogee wanted me enough that uh, moving to Oklahoma was outweighed by all the pros of the job. And then yeah, I found my place, cute little yellow house with a porch just big enough for two chairs to curl up and watch the thunderstorms like I’d always wanted. It all sort of fell together for me.”

“And the storm chasing?” 

“Like your Mom used to say that summer in Miami, the worse the weather the happier the girl.” 

A haze glazed over his eyes. “Yeah, she did used to say that, didn’t she?” 

You snort. “She used to say it every chance she got. Especially after that one time I stood out in the storm and then your cousin Mickey yelled from the back porch that I was gonna get struck by lightening and then you pulled me inside because of-“ You cut yourself off, suddenly feeling off-kilter. 

You weren’t sure if that was off-limits. 

“How is Mickey?” 

Javi snorts. “Ah, he’s good. He’s stationed out in San Diego right now.”

You kick a rock. “Doesn’t that sound dreamy.” 

Javi lets out a real laugh this time. “Yeah, he isn’t going anywhere. After years of barracks and aircraft carriers, he’s basically living the high life in his four bedroom off-base beach house he shares with some of the guys.”

The two of you keep walking towards the outer edges of the motel, finally pulling you to a pause as you turn to Javi. “Kate seems really nice, Javi. I could see how you’re in love with her. Hell, I kinda think I’m in love with her.” 

His Adam’s apple bobs as he works his throat. He glances away from you, scuffing his feet against the muddy ground of the parking lot. 

“I don’t know that I am.”

You sigh, unclenching your hands from where they sit in your own jacket pockets, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. “Javi, you don’t have to lie to me. It’s okay.” You soothe. “We were never together, not really, and besides, it’s been years since then. It’s not even an attempt of an attack, just an observation.” He eyes you, silent, and you sigh. “Javi, really, I didn’t mean anything by it.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

You falter but the boy doesn’t offer up anything else and you sigh again. “C’mon, tell me more about this new business venture of yours, I’m kind of interested in hearing how I can get involved with taming a tornado.” 

-

Javi falls back into your life as easily as he had fallen into it last time. 

His apartment in Tulsa is only a thirty minute drive from your house, a drive Javi says he’d make a million times over. 

Some nights, he’ll find his way to Claremore and the two of you will share dinner in your cozy kitchen. He’ll never tell you, but that first night he’d gone over to your house, he’d sat in his car for eight minutes, eyeing the warm lights inside the house, preparing to meet some- some husband or serious long-term partner because, well, a house is a big purchase. A house says I mean to be here for a while. Much to his pleasant surprise though, as you beam at him as you take the flowers and wine from him, there’s no partner in sight. 

He lets out a sigh of relief as he bumps hips with you in the kitchen, stirring a sauce, that he has you to himself. Not only had you created this simple little life for yourself that you had loved so much all on your own, he has you all to himself. 

He has a chance this time. 

Other times, you’ll meet him in Tulsa for a drink, laughing into each other as you recount the summer you’d spent in Miami and he catches you up on the days you missed. It’s an ache, to hear about the growing pains of the last few years for Javi, but that ache soothes itself every time you see him laugh, or pull Boone into a playful headlock, or him and Tyler bicker  business over Cathy’s barbecue. 

Sometimes the two of you will go for drives, you making him listen to every album of all your favorite artists that he might’ve missed, and on quieter nights, watch the summer storms from your porch. Sometimes, he wraps his ankle around yours, just to feel you. 

Even when he’s chasing, he calls you, even just to say goodnight, even if you always pretend not to hear the muffled teasing of his friends from somewhere off camera. The sleepy FaceTime calls, however short, make something in him swell every time he gets another chance to do it. 

He took things for granted once. He won’t take them for granted ever again. 

As the year grows, so do the two of you. 

The question he asks you as you walk back to your car after a movie shouldn’t take you by surprise. Still, it does and you stop as you turn to face him. 

“Do you want to go on a date?”

It’s a chillier night than usual for the summer that’s quickly fading into fall and you’re wrapped up in your jacket as you study his hopeful eyes, a nervous smile on his face. 

“None of that fooling around shit we did as kids. A real one this time.” 

“Javi.” You breathe out, so soft and sweet. 

You’d forsaken a chance to love Javi so long ago. A weaker woman would forget the way he’d confessed the quiet love he’d held for Kate, even if it felt like he’d love from afar. A weaker woman would forget the way he’d confessed that he thought he’d probably always be in love with Kate, his feelings for the girl frozen in time to the day that took so much from them both. 

But those feelings didn’t stay stuck in the past, had all caught up to him when he’d asked Kate to come back to Oklahoma last year.

And the Javi in front of you wasn’t that same scared kid who’d taken off for the Army the first time his older brother pressed about the lingering phantom pain. This was- well, not a fully healed Javi — could anyone really ever fully heal from what he and Kate had gone through — but a Javi who was on his way to healing. 

But still- 

Javi looked at Kate with a soft fondness, their bond unexplainable. The way they fed off each other’s energy, the little handshake they had going on good chase days, it all struck home to you. 

You knew what Javi had with Kate. Even if Kate never felt the same way towards him, you knew the feelings of the boy in front of you.

“No, Javi.” You say softly and he takes a half step back, jaw going slack. 

Too long, you’d been people’s last resort choice, the girl people picked when they had no one else. You wanted to keep Javi in your life but not at the cost of knowing that every night you laid next to him in bed he was thinking of someone else. 

You didn’t blame him. Kate was every bit of the enigmatic, bright, witty force that he’d described her to be. She was a freaky genius, a level of intelligence you were in awe of. Everyone around her was drawn into Kate’s presence and orbit, the time spent with her never feeling like a loss. 

You know that Kate was the type of girl that you fell for and loved forever. 

“Javi, I’m sorry.” You whisper. “But I can’t. I can’t be that for you. I think-“

He holds up a hand, taking another step back. “No. You don’t need to explain it to me.” 

“But I-“

“No, I get it. We’re better off as friends, just cause you were interested then, doesn’t mean you are now. You’ve got someone else.” The last sentence is delivered with what seems like to be great effort and your eyebrows furrow. “There’s countless excuses you could give me. We don’t need to go through them.” 

“No, Javi, you aren’t listening to me-“

“No, I heard you loud and clear. Get yourself home safely, okay?” 

And then he turns on his heel, walking towards his truck as you stand there dumbfounded. 

-

The cold of the Oklahoma winter is bitter, biting at your nose and cheeks as you duck in the barn, finally letting yourself breathe. 

For a holiday meant to be filled with cheer, this had felt like anything but. 

The last few months between you and Javi had been increasingly strained, the ever-persisting struggle of both of you being able to understand the other. Being at Kate’s for Christmas had felt suffocating, as Javi had hesitated around you the whole day, almost seemingly unsure of how to handle himself around you on such a big holiday. Javi had never hesitated when it came to you, and watching him so at ease with the rest of his friends had put a sour taste in your mouth even the sweetest of the hot toddies couldn’t rid. 

“How you and Javi haven’t fucked yet is beyond me.” 

Tyler’s words are crass, said with nothing less than the cowboy charm he turns on for the cameras. 

“Fuck off.” You say, back turned to the man as you thumb through the notebook on Javi’s desk in Kate’s barn. Tyler’s feet crunch against the cold ground as he walks closer. 

“Party’s inside, you know.” 

You don’t say anything and Tyler finally sits down next to you, the bench creaking as he does. 

“What are you even doing out here kid?” 

You shrug, looking up at the collection of photos. “How do you love someone with the kind of grief they carry?” You say quietly. “I mean, does it ever make you feel weird- Jeb? Like she’s not yours to love? That she belongs to another?”

He sighs. “I’ve never thought about it like that, I guess.”

“Then how do you think about it?” The question is blunt as you finally look away, meeting Tyler’s eyes. “Cause I gotta be honest with you, loving someone who loves another is exhausting.” 

Tyler ponders your words for a minute and you let him, knowing this conversation carries too much weight for unformulated answers and quick quips. “Of course, Kate will always love Jeb. Even as she heals and even as she grows around the grief, she’ll love him.” He draws a breath. “But you can’t do that to yourself, the wondering what ifs of if they had still been here. You’ll make yourself damn miserable if you do. Just because she loved Jeb before he died doesn’t she mean she’s not ever allowed to love again.” Tyler worries his bottom lip, looking like he’s unsure if he can, or should, say his next thought as he glances at a picture of the original Tornado Tamers. 

It’s Christmas, just like it is now. Everyone is in some variation of a Santa hat, Addy’s and Kate’s funny face pulled at the camera, the only sight of Jeb being his thumb held out as he took the picture. Javi and Praveen are none the wiser to what’s happening as Javi is urging the kid to drink eggnog for the first time. 

You know this story, it was one of Javi’s favorites. It was their junior year and a blizzard had blown through right before the holidays. All incoming and outgoing flights had been grounded and Cathy had offered her home up to the Tamers to spend the holiday.

“Just because he was in love with Kate once doesn’t mean he can’t love anyone else again.” 

The thing is, Javi had never told you that story. Kate did. She had told you softly last night as the two of you had made cookies, recounting the story with a bittersweet fondness. She had told you that remembering through those stories, that their lives, their love, had been real made the grief easier to swallow. Her friends had been real and they deserved to be remembered for the forces they were. 

They’d have wanted Kate to move forward. They’d have wanted her to find family and laughter after them. 

You sniff, not realizing you’d started crying until the warm tears start to streak down your face. Tyler’s eyes tear down from the picture in concern, a hand pulling from his coat pockets to rest gently on your shoulder. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.” 

You remove your hands from your own pockets, thumbing tears away from your eyes. “I sort of think he’ll always be in love with Kate.” 

Tyler shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. I remember when Kate first got here, the way he looked at her. He’d do anything for her but- it’s different now.” 

Javi had said that to you once, the night before the two of you had parted. That he’d do anything for Kate. If she called him tomorrow, he’d go AWOL and join her in New York. He didn’t care what it took, just that he wanted to be there for her. 

“Sorry, this is weird to be talking to you about.” You croak. “I shouldn’t be-“ 

“I get it.” He says, cutting you off. “Okay, with them- it’s delicate because they know things about each other you and I will never understand, no matter how hard we try. But it’s not like that with them anymore. I think-“ Tyler cuts himself off. “Well, I guess I don’t really know what I think. I just know that the way he looked at her changed. They’ve fit into each other's lives the way they were supposed to always be. And it hasn’t just been since you’ve been around. Javi- he’s different now.”

“He asked once.” You say softly. “He asked me on a date in September. I said no.” Tyler’s eyes widen but your words and tears spill faster than you can stop either of them. “I said no cause- Javi and I just didn’t have a summer whatever one year in Miami. It was the summer after- after it all happened. I was there, on the one year anniversary. I held him as he told me how he’d lost them, the fear as he was shouting into a radio no one would ever answer again. I know the way he used to talk about Kate, the quiet awe you have of her too. And I get it, okay, because Kate’s Kate, and she’s an incredible- Kate’s one of the best people I’ve ever known. But I know the way he said he’d always love her. I know it because I’ve played that moment on repeat for five years now in the back of my head, willing that moment to be different. Because if it was just Javi grieving, I’d understand that. But I can’t love him while he grieves a love for someone else that will never come to fruition. And I don’t blame him. I couldn’t. Because of what he went through, driving around that wreckage for hours, searching for his friends, because he was the one to have to identify Praveen and what was left of Addy- and oh God- because I see what he sees in Kate. And I know I will never compete with that. He’s all I’ve ever wanted but he’s openly told me she’s who he wants. So- I don’t know where this leaves me.” 

Your shoulders shake with tears as Tyler frowns, unsure of what to say. 

“I just want him to love me back.” You say around salty tears as someone knocks cautiously on the barn door. 

“Everything okay out here?” Kate calls. “You guys have been out here for a while and Boone’s trying to trick Dexter into drinking the spiked nog- are you okay?” 

You’ve turned away from her as you cry over Javi’s notebook. It’s an old one from his Muskogee days (you can tell because his sprawling scribble of handwriting had much improved since these days, now a neat legible penmanship you think Scott just about beat into him) and distantly you wonder if he’ll care that you’re ruining years old notes about radar technology as your tears drop onto the page. 

Tyler moves away from the bench, and you hear him usher Kate out of the barn, even if it doesn’t really register with you that they’re gone. 

There’s another creaking on the bench next to you some time later. “Ty?” You croak.

“Just me, ‘m afraid.” Javi says gently, voice steady and smooth like honey, which only prompts you to cry more as you fight the urge to lean into that sweet comfort. “Okay, well you don’t have to have that reaction.” He huffs, part kidding, part annoyed. 

All you can focus on is the hint of irritation in his voice and you shake your head. “It’s not you.” He grunts and you shake your head more vigorously. “I’m not mad at you, I’m not. I’m just sad.” 

“Sad to see me?” 

“Kind of-“ 

He starts to rise from the bench, much to your panic. “I’ll go get- well, Dani doesn’t really do feelings, so um-“

“Javi-“ 

“or maybe Lilly? Or Dexter-“ 

“Javi, no-“ 

“-if you want that sort of older and wiser opinion-“ 

“Javi, please just listen to me-“ 

“I can even go get Owens again if you want-“ 

“Javi I’m sad because I love you!” You near shout. “I’m sad to see you because I’m in love with you but you’re in love with Kate and that makes me sad because I just want you to love me back!” 

Javi freezes, awkwardly straddling the bench. You sit there in an uncomfortable silence, too many agonizing seconds passing. You feel like you can hear your heart threatening to beat its way from your throat and out into the open and the tears feel suffocating as you stare back into the face of pure disbelief. 

“You- what?” His eyebrows pinch together, falling onto the bench with a rather loud thud. 

“I’m in love with you, okay? I’ve been trying to avoid it for months but I can’t. It all means too much to me, like when you call me to tell goodnight when you’re out chasing or- or how you always pick me up that apple pastry from the bakery in Tulsa. All the sweet stuff you do for me but I- Javi, I love that you’re back in my life, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. But I just feel like I’m the alternate- the- the second choice because Kate’s with Tyler. And I can’t give myself away for someone who will only ever give me pieces of themselves in return.” 

Minutes pass as Javi scrubs a hand down his face. “But I- I asked you. I asked you out on a date. You said no.” 

You give a pitiful shrug, having given up on wiping away the tears that are freezing to your skin. “I don’t want to be who you settle for because you can’t have her.” 

He lets out a low breath, head ducked. The gnawing pit in your stomach grows as Javi keeps his face turned away from you, not letting you see his expression. “All this time, I thought there was someone else.” 

You recoil back, surprise shocking your system. “What?” You let out, mind reeling. “Javi, I spend all my free time with you. When- when would I have the time? When have I ever said anything about seeing anyone else?” 

“You said no.” It’s a simple fact, one you can’t argue with. “You said no and we never talked about if either of us were seeing other people.” 

You swallow, glancing away. “Well, I’m not. For the record. All I wanted was you.” 

A beat passes, a chill blows through the barn. “You really think I’m in love with Kate?” He asks quietly, voice raw. 

“You told me yourself that you thought you’d always be in love with her.” 

Javi finally looks up at you, something immeasurable and unexplainable swimming in his glassy eyes. “Yeah, I loved Kate once. But we were kids. We were kids who thought we were invincible. And we had everything taken from us because we got stupid and reckless. We lost everything. And after she lost Jeb, I knew that there would be no way she would ever look at me that way, especially not after she met Tyler. I think- I think of Kate and I as like a broken bone. That break hurt like hell, but time mended our wounds, brought us back together. That bone’s stronger now, we’re stronger now because we’re friends.” Javi scoots forward so his knees touch yours as his eyes take on a pleading glimmer. “You and I, we didn’t end up here in Oklahoma by coincidence. Call it- fucking fate, invisible string, I don’t know. But I don’t take any of it for granted. I took things for granted once and I got punished for it. I’m not taking my second chance with you for granted. All that stuff- the- the calling you at night, spending all my time with you, doing that sweet shit for you- you gotta know it’s cause I love you, you and no one else, and I’m not ever going to take it for granted because I know better than anyone how quickly it could disappear.” Javi takes your hand, gently moving it to place over his heart. “C’mon darling, you have to know that you’re the one my heart beats for.” 

Your breath hitches at the gesture, eyes darting around his face, looking for any sign of him being untruthful. 

All you can find is a raw honesty that’s making it hard for you to breathe. 

You lick your lips, sucking in a shaking breath. “Javi, I don’t- I don’t know.” 

He squeezes your hand before letting it fall as he stands up. “Think about it.” 

So you do. 

You do think about it. 

You watch Javi the rest of the night, the way he makes sure to snag an extra of your favorite cookie before Boone can take it so you have something for the drive back to Claremore. You watch as he and Kate fight over the rules of Uno, Lilly unfortunately squashed between them. You can’t help but notice that Javi hugs you just a little bit longer than he does everyone else. 

On the drive home, you think of the way Javi has always been warm to you, has been a safe place to go, a soft place to land. The way his hugs feel like coming home. The way he’ll sleepily ask about your day, mouth full of toothpaste, Boone’s elbow in his face as they cram into the tiniest bathroom. 

That night in bed, you think of the way his Mom sent you a Christmas present, how his younger cousins always asked him when you were coming back to visit. You think of the way he cooks his Mom’s recipes for you on the bad days, the light in his eyes when you bring him your grandmother’s cookies after nasty chases. 

Over the next week, you think about the work lunch dates and your work from home days spent at his and Kate’s office in Tulsa. You think about weekend chases shoved in between him and Boone, knees knocking together. You think about how sometimes, on days he’s feeling good, he’ll let you ride shotgun in one of the work vans, letting you help set up the radars. You think of the way he lets you sit next to him and Kate at the end of the day, breaking down the data for you, quietly explaining anything you don’t understand. 

You think of the way you’ve always wanted to know what his lips taste like after eating his homemade penne alla vodka and you’d give anything to spend another night molded into his frame, scratching your hand through his curls. 

You think of the grin you caught one time as you had insisted on dancing in the rain. You think of the time his team had caught him staring at you as you awed over a summer lightning storm on the road, the teasing endless. You think of the way he’d taken it, never denying it. 

You think of the way Kate kept softly nudging him towards you, the way Kate and Javi had opened up to you and Tyler about their dead. You think of the times the four of you had found yourselves together, a content peace emanating from the group, knowing you’d found your love. 

A million memories later, you know it’s the truth. 

Javi loves you. 

The minutes pass by on your dashboard clock, the start of the New Year looming, and you pressed your foot on the gas, begging anything out there that would listen, Javi had decided to stay in tonight. If he was in Sapulpa with Kate, or had actually decided to take that last minute flight out to Miami, this would have all been for naught. 

You park on the street, the noise of the people in Javi’s apartment ramping up as midnight drew closer. The sound of your feet running up the stairs were drowned out by the noise of his neighbors and you cursed under your breath, hoping he’d hear the almost frantic knock on his front door. 

You have to remind yourself to breathe, gulping in air, when the door swings open, revealing Javi, decked out in grey sweatpants and a silly Wranglers shirt Dani had given him, looking like he’d been on the verge of dozing off. 

He says your name in surprise, shuffling forward almost as if to touch you. “What are you doing here?” 

You take a shuddering breath, shrugging. “What’s that stupid thing Tyler always says? If you feel it, chase it? Well Javi, I feel it. I feel it and I’m chasing it.” 

His breath hitches but you give him no other time to respond, tugging on the front of his shirt as you pull him down into a kiss. 

It’s soft, it’s searing. It’s everything you could’ve ever wanted. 

His lips mold themselves against yours, hands finding your waist, as your palms slide up against his shirt, curling into his hair. You tilt your head, letting him deepen the kiss as the pressure on your hips grow. 

Distantly, you can hear fireworks set off. 

He pulls away, more than a little breathless as his thumb reaches up to wipe a bit of saliva away, heat flooding your cheeks at the movement. 

“Does this make me your New Year’s kiss?” 

“I guess it depends on if it makes you my boyfriend.” 

He shrugs nonchalantly, tugging at some of your hair. “I think we could maybe work something out.” 

You suck a breath in through your teeth. “Can I come inside? It’s fucking freezing out here.” 

“Oh shit, yeah.” He tugs you into the warmth of his apartment, moving to behind you to gently remove your coat from you. You swallow at the casual intimacy as he turns to hang it on the coat rack. His hands are back on you not much longer after, his lips place open kisses down the side of your neck as he moves your hair out of his way. 

You hum, leaning into him. “Bedroom?” 

“Bedroom.”

-

The new January light filters through the cracks in Javi’s, a soft grey covering the room as you reach you to card your fingers through his hair. 

He stirs, nuzzling closer to your hand as he blindly reaches out for you. Once he finds you, he softly tugs you towards him. 

“My ma is gonna be pissed I’ve taken you to bed before I’ve taken you out on a date twice now.” 

You snort, head falling into the crook of his  neck as his hands slip under your, well, actually it’s Javi’s shirt. You slide impossibly closer to him, grinning into his shoulder at his hiss at the feeling of your cold feet sliding in between his legs. 

“Did you ever actually get this mole checked out like I told you to?” 

You peer up at him, admiring the way his eyelashes frame his eyes, his freckles visible even in the silvery lighting. “Is that really what you care about right now?” 

“Just asking.” He mumbles. “Am I not allowed to care about your well-being?” 

You hum, reaching a hand up to ghost over his cheek. “I guess that might be okay, lover.” 

He groans, hands flexing around you. “Don’t tease me like that. ‘Specially not when you’re wearing my shirt and boxers like that baby.” 

You laugh but don’t push the moment any farther, wanting to relish this quiet moment with him. You’d never have the first morning of being with him again, after all. 

“I love you so much baby.” He says softly. “I still can’t believe you showed up like that last night.” “You’re my home Javi. How could I have gone anywhere else?”