#and genuinely. i need to make the step to get help

[hotshotsxyz]

love dresses up in many ways

(buddie)(8x07 spec)(881 words) how about a little not-evil spec? as a treat title from yet another bastille song

“Buck,” Eddie says flatly as soon as he opens the door.

Buck pastes on his most charming smile. “Eddie,” he replies.

“I’m one person.” He steps back to let Buck in anyway.

“One person that’s choosing joy!” Buck reminds him sunnily, kicking the door shut behind him.  

Eddie grins and leans against the wall. “I am,” he acknowledges. “Pretty sure I don’t need to overdose on baked goods to achieve that.”

“Sure you do!” Buck exclaims. “Besides, this one’s focaccia. There’s like, a vegetable in it.”

Eddie snorts and rolls his eyes. “Oh, well, if there’s a vegetable…”

“See, I knew you’d come around.” Buck makes his way into the kitchen to drop off the focaccia (and the pound cake and the brownies, but shh, who’s counting?).

“Grab a couple beers?” Eddie calls after him.

He opens the fridge and finds a six pack of a fruited wheat beer he’s never seen before and grins. It’s not that he’s actually all that excited to try You’re My Boy Blueberry Wheat Ale, but man, it’s hard to put into words just how much he likes seeing Eddie try news things just for the fun of them. There’re a few familiar sours in there, too, but fuck it. Buck grabs two of the blue-labeled bottles and heads back into the living room.

“I reserve the right to pour this out and get a new one if it’s weird,” Buck announces, popping the top off Eddie’s and handing it to him.

“Mm,” Eddie replies. He takes a tentative sip, then his face blooms into one of those easy smiles Buck’s seeing more and more of these days. “S’not weird,” he says. “It’s good.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks.

Eddie shrugs. “Guess you’ll have to try it for yourself.”

“Guess so,” Buck murmurs before taking a sip of his own.

To his genuine surprise, it is good. Better than he expected. Like maybe-his-new-favorite-beer better.

“Okay, yeah,” Buck says, dropping down onto the couch next to Eddie. “Not weird.”

Eddie grins at him, so bright that Buck kind of wants to look away, but also maybe never stop looking.

“So what inspired today’s round of baking?” Eddie asks, knocking his knee against Buck’s.

Unbidden, an image of Eddie’s bare thigh pops into Buck’s head. He brushes it away because—

Anyway, he brushes it away.

“I dunno, Eds,” Buck says with a sigh. “I just— I think I’m a little stuck. In—in my own head, I mean. About, you know, all of it.” He waves his beer around to emphasize his point and narrowly avoids spilling it. “It’s not even about him, you know? It’s what he represents.”

“Which is…” Eddie prompts.

Buck settles back into the couch and wraps his non-beer-holding arm around himself. “I don’t know. Finding whatever it is I’m missing, I guess.”

Eddie hums and takes a long sip of his beer. “What makes you think you’re missing something?” he asks finally.

Buck frowns, nonplussed. “I mean,” he says, gesturing vaguely.

“What, a couple of not-forever relationships and there’s something wrong with you?” Eddie asks and—

“Five,” Buck says dully. “Five not-forever relationships.” Yeah, he’s pretty sure there’s something wrong with him.

“Buck,” Eddie says softly. From anyone else, it would feel chastising. From Eddie, it’s just… comfortable.

“Well what do you think it is?” Buck asks.

“I think,” Eddie says slowly, “that I’m probably the least helpful person you could possibly ask for relationship advice.”

Buck rolls his eyes. “M’not asking you about relationships, I’m asking you about me.”

“Ah, well, in that case,” Eddie says teasingly.

Despite himself, Buck smiles. “Just—what is it that makes me so—” Easy to leave? Hard to love? He can’t quite bring himself to voice either thought.

Eddie frowns like he heard them anyway. “Whatever it is, I like it,” he says with a shrug.

Buck blinks. “You… like that I keep getting dumped?”

“No, obviously not, Buck,” Eddie says, turning to shoot him an exasperated look. “I like you,” he continues. “Whatever it is your exes were too stupid to love about you, I do.”

All the air seems to leave the room. It’s—one time, in high school, Buck was slammed into the ground so hard during a football game that for a few seconds, he was literally incapable of breathing. This feels a little—a lot—like that.

“Eddie,” he croaks.

He shrugs again, like he didn’t just say the most insane, incredible, intense thing Buck’s ever heard.

“I like you the way you are,” Eddie reiterates. “You don’t need to make yourself less to be loved. The right person will get that.”

Buck swallows. “You think?” he manages.

“I know,” Eddie says emphatically.

Buck opens his mouth and closes it again. It’s just—it isn’t something he hasn’t heard before. Hell, Eddie’s said it more that once before. He just feels—

It’s like there’s something in his chest that’s dying to break loose, some incredible revelation that’s just around the corner. But for all he pokes and prods at it, it won’t come any sooner. There’s something, though.

Maybe he does just need to let the universe do it’s thing. In the meantime, he’s sitting next to Eddie on the only couch he’s ever really felt completely comfortable on. It’s enough.

[wallowslistener]

hotch smiling? never. ೨ৎ a. hotchner x reader

𐙚˚ aaron hotchner x fem!reader. fluff. 0.6k words.

✦ aaron has always been the definition of serious. even among the most stoic in the fbi, he’s known for his unwavering dedication to the job, rarely showing emotion or letting his guard down. he’s a leader, and leaders can’t afford to be distracted by the lighter things in life. smiling, laughing, those were luxuries, not necessities.

that’s why it was so strange when he met you.

it started out like any other case. you were brought in as a liaison for a local investigation, your expertise needed to help the bau crack a difficult profile. hotch appreciated your work ethic right away, how focused and meticulous you were, just like him. but there was something else, something he hadn’t noticed in a long time. the way you carried yourself, the lightheartedness you brought to the job, even when the weight of the cases was unbearable.

at first, he tried to keep his distance. he always did. it was easier that way. but somehow, without meaning to, you broke through.

one afternoon, while the team was poring over crime scene photos and victim profiles, you cracked a subtle joke about the chaos of the case files. it wasn’t even that funny, but it was enough to make spencer smile, which wasn’t an unusual sight. what was unusual was that hotch, sitting across from you, didn’t just smile, he chuckled. the room went silent for a beat, everyone’s heads snapping in his direction, including yours.

you looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. "did i... just make you laugh?"

hotch cleared his throat, instantly returning to his serious demeanor, but the damage was done. his face had softened in a way that none of them had seen in years.

"let’s get back to the case," he said, but you could see the faint trace of a smirk lingering at the corner of his mouth.

after that, things started to shift between you. whenever the stress of the job became overwhelming, you had a way of lightening the mood, just enough to remind him that there was life outside of the darkness they faced every day. he didn’t laugh often, old habits die hard, but he started to smile more around you. little things—your quick wit, your subtle gestures of support—made him feel something he hadn’t allowed himself to in a long time: happiness.

one night, after a long and particularly grueling case, the team was ready to collapse. everyone was exhausted, but you caught hotch’s eye and gave him a small, tired smile. "hey, we got through it. you don’t always have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, you know."

he gave a slight nod, but his eyes softened in a way that felt more intimate than any words could express. "i’ve gotten used to it."

"but you don’t have to do it alone," you replied, your voice gentle.

for the first time in years, aaron hotchner let himself feel vulnerable, even if just for a moment. "i’m starting to realize that."

there, in the quiet of the bullpen, it was just the two of you. no case, no tragedy, just an unspoken connection. and for the first time in a long time, hotch smiled. not a fleeting, half hearted one, but a real, genuine smile, just for you.

and from that moment on, everyone noticed. he was still serious, still focused, but there was a new lightness in his step when you were around, a subtle shift that made him more human, more open.

because you’d done something no one else had managed: you’d given him a reason to smile again.

[quarterlifekitty]

Losing it over the lady and the tramp au (stfu and take my money cause god damn I’d like some more of that) Give Tramp!Soap all the puppies please 🙏

And this doesn’t have to be a hybrid au, but hear me out: Aristocats AU with Price as Thomas O’Malley and Reader as Duchess

I remember seeing fantastic art of that au and I cannot for the life of me find it 😭 it’s been on my mind ever since

Listen man I am a hard believer in dad that stepped up Price. Dude starts dating a single milf and he’s like cool I get a free head start on making a big fuckoff family 😏

Gonna be real I don’t remember the last time I saw the aristocats so we are going on vibes with this one.

Price feels love at first sight. Seeing you, your gorgeous white fur, trying to herd around the cutest little troublemaking kittens. He can’t help but selfishly wonder if your mate is in the picture. And upon finding out your lost, far from home, in need of help?

Once again selfishly, he couldn’t conceive of a better opportunity to prove himself to you and your litter. And he genuinely likes the little rascals— all as beautiful as their mother. He teases you, too, imagining what a pretty little handful you must’ve been like as a kitten.

Your loyalty is something he admires about you, deeply. He can’t be upset when you gently let him down— wanting to be back at your Madame’s side.

When he hears that you need him? He comes running. He fights tooth and claw. Worse than that— he lets himself be collared by the end of it all. And he can’t deny that it feels overwhelming and beautiful to look in the mirror with you, matching gems gleaming around your necks as you nuzzle into his side. He’s not a young tom by any means… but he’s got it in him to give you another litter, at least.

[t3ag3rs]

g e n s o. - 1 6

(A/N: sorry about the long haitus, i was grounded for awhile 😓)

you glance at bakugou quickly as you take your seat.

you cant help but let a small smile etch across your face. you grab your phone out your backpack and open messages, 

"katsukiiii"

you glance up to see him furrow his brows and open up his phone.

"yeah?”

"so to be clear we're keeping this a secret right?" "since we have exactly started dating yet and all.."

"yep. i dont want all these extras bothering us anyways"

"hey dont be rude theyre our friends kats😋"

"says who?"

"nvm then. ig theyre js my friends.." "but im your friend right??" "you have no other choice sooo 🤗"

"ur annoying as shit."

"dw ik u love it😙"

you smile at your phone and glance at bakugou only to find him staring at you. you give him a quick grin before pretending not to notice him so no one would notice the interaction between the two of you.

"admiring my beauty i see"

"stfu" "was not."

"awwww... r u flustereddd?"

you chuckle to yourself before hearing the bell ring, and put your phone away to prepare for the start of class.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅�� ───

you sigh packing up your notes back in your bag slowly. you wait for the class to empty out for lunch before walking up to bakugou with a smile, "ready?"

he nods, "yeah lets go" he walks beside you as you both walk to the training room for lunch again.

"so..." you start, feeling the quiet to be awkward. you glance at him, "uh.. you feel any better now compared to yesterday..?"

he nods, "yeah im not staying up all night anymore thinking of a certain pestering face" he quips playfully. 

you make a sound of fake hurt, "rude..! i am a very entertaining and comforting thought to many!" you say with a slight giggle.

"damn right you are.." he says with a tiny smirk. your lips curve into a genuine smile and you knock your shoulder against his.

"okay softie.." you tease softly. he chuckles before opening the door for you, "oh how chivalrous of you" you grin as you step in.

he rolls his eyes, "here step back out and ill let you open the door for me if thats what you want" he smirks.

"no thanks kats" you say with a wink. you turn and head to the locker room, "give me 5- imma change" he makes a sound of agreement and sets his stuff down.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you step back into the room and walk up to bakugou. "you stretched already?" you ask as you start to do so yourself. 

he nods, "yeah i did.. imma go to the bench press, call me if you need anything aight?" he says walking off with a water bottle and towel.

he nod before quickly glancing at his body, "gyatttt damn..." you mutter lowly.

"i heard that you damn perv!" he yells, flipping you off over his shoulder. you let out a loud bark of laughter that was soon followed by his.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you grunt as you work on your last set of rdls. you breathe in deeply looking at your feet to distract yourself from the feeling of your tensing muscles. "cmon genso- you got a good 5 more left in you." you hear bakugou say from behind you.

"h-huh?" you gasp from between breaths, "im literally- struggling..!" you grunt.

"nahnah.. cmon" he places his hand on the flat of your back and stomach, "3 more.."

you feel your face flush as you feel his touch on you. you quickly finish the set and drop the weights before stumbling to regain your balance.

"woah there genso..." he says steadying you, "why are you so dizzy? have you eaten anything today?" he asks slightly concerned.

"nah i just need my water.. had a protien shake this morning so im fine.." you manage to gasp out, "dont get too hungry anyways.." you say gulping down your water.

"woahwoahwoah.. you havent ate anything all day?" he repeats, "genso you gotta eat- especially if your working out. here- i have an extra snack bar.." he says grabbing one from his backpack. "your not leaving till you eat it."

"b-but.. what are you gonna eat..?" you say not accepting the bar. 

"i have lunch, ill give you some too.. i made some spicy curry.." he says sitting down and taking out his utensils. "what are you doing just standing there? sit down" he states, patting the space beside him.

you nod slightly sitting down quietly.

"i dont have an extra utensil, so you can eat first" he say pushing the container in front of you. you glance down at it before looking at him and hugging him, "thanks kats.. it means a lot to see you care so much about me.."

he freezes shocked but returns the hug awkwardly at first, but melts into it soon after. "course dumbass.. you need anything im here for you.." he mumbles into your neck softly.

you smile before pulling away and taking a bite of his food. your eyes widen in shock, "kats this is so good..!" you say smiling. you take another scoop and hold it up to his lips, "here have some!" you say excitedly.

he widens his eyes, "b-but- you just-" he stammers.

you wave your hand dismissively, "who cares- ahhhhh" you mimic, opening your mouth. he opens it slightly and you put the spoon in his mouth softly.

"my god- i dont know what i did to get so lucky and get someone who can cook and workout well too..!" you say between bites. "eat some more or else i will" you warn.

"um first of all- hell no. second of all- slow down woman!" he chuckles grabbing the spoon from you. "gonna choke yourself at that rate.." he scoops some curry and brings it to your lips, "open wide.." he mutters quietly.

you widen your eyes but open your mouth nonetheless.

you smile as u chew and swallow, "sooooo.... whats up with u and izu?" you ask as casually as possible. you glance up to see his mouth form a frown, "oh cmon katsss..."

"he just pisses me off. we knew him since forever- he told us he couldnt get a quirk and then out of nowhere he manifests this strong ass quirk!" he runs his hand throigh his hair frustratingly, "i didnt have to worry about the damn nerd before but now- i cant let him beat me, he cant look stronger than me." He stresses looking at his palms.

you sigh pursing your lips, "oh kats... thats what this is all about..?" you rub ur thumb over the back of his hand softly, "i dont care if you were the 197th hero ranked out of 50- i would still be here for you. i dont like you because of how youre  better then everyone else and never lose... i like you because your the most attractive, smart, strong, determined, and hard working guy i met. and thats all that matters okay?"

he glances up at you with widened eyes. he opens his mouth to talk but instead shuts it and scoops you into a tight hug.

"Oh-" you freeze slightly before relaxing into the warmth of his body against yours. "i know dont wanna say thank you, but ill say your welcome nonetheless" you giggle playfully.

Bakugou tightened his grip on you and said a silent prayer,

Please god let me keep this one..

previous parts: pt. 0 0 / pt. 0 1 / pt. 02 / pt. 03 / pt. 04 / pt. 05 / pt. 06 / pt. 07 / pt. 08 / pt. 09 / pt. 10 / pt. 11 / pt. 12 / pt. 13 / pt. 14 / pt. 15 next part: your all caught up for now!

☆taglist! @katszumi @coolgirl458 @niktwazny303 @twinnintwink @froggybich @friedmagazineprincess @itztaki @aikojwhpa

[nowimjustastranger]

Love your stcmo!Ford AU! A couple fun questions: how bad of a condition does a Stanley have to be in before Ford thinks he needs to intervene?

Has he ever had a Stanley outright refuse all help - how did that go?

And, finally: surely several Stans wouldn't *willingly* relocate dimensions even for their own good...has one ever been transferred unwillingly then figured out he was in the completely wrong place, with a brother that isn't his?

Ford Intervening

Ford usually steps in when Stan is actively dying or going to die in the near future. Although there are instances where Ford gets involved to stop an event despite the fact that Stan experiencing it doesn't lead to his death. The simple fact that the event takes something from Stan -breaks him just that much more- is reason enough for Ford to prevent it from happening in the first place. But consistency is an issue since the future paths are always fluctuating until the person that the data is locked onto (Stans, in this case) makes a decision/has something outside of their control happen to them.

Stan Refusing Help

I feel like Stan would only outright refuse help if he perceives it as a handout or if he genuinely believes he deserves what's happening to him (and sometimes it's both). In this case, Ford would have to use his face to his advantage, since Stan's hurting but would still do anything for his brother. Ford would follow Stan around until he cracked, usually going into a rage and yelling at Ford as if he were his actual brother before breaking down into tears. Ford would then tentatively pull Stan into a hug, waiting until Stan stopped resisting the offered comfort and melted into it as he sobbed. After he clamed down some, he'd he too exhausted to fight Ford on booking them a nice hotel room for the night, Ford restocking Stan's supplies and getting Stan's car organized. Ford would pick up a warm meal for Stan before doing his own thing, trying not to look like he's hovering (he absolutely is). Ford would have to start a conversation, carefully feeling out Stan's headspace as his questions grew more and more personal. And, it return, Ford would answer as many of Stan's questions a he could. Ford would deal with Stan's Ford after they parted ways.

Unwillingly Relocated Stan

Unlikely to happen more than once, because Ford would damn well learn his lesson. If a relocated Stan were to ever even suspect that he's in the wrong dimension with the wrong brother, it obviously wouldn't end well. I feel like Stan might have a full-on psychotic break, questioning reality. It would be like the "Inception" movie, where Stan slowly shuts down until he eventually takes his own life. Of course, Stan wouldn't know how he ended up in the wrong place (thanks to the memory gun) but he'd just know that he wasn't where he was supposed to be. It would just be a huge mindfuck. That Stan would be one of the Stans that Ford 419"3 lost, Stan killing himself in a last-ditch effort to get home. And the Ford of that dimension wasn't far behind, having lost his little brother twice.

[imagineitdearies]

~ A Flawed Eternity ~

(AKA drabbles set in the Perfect Slaughter universe. 🩵 Special thanks to @secretbraintwin for the ko-fi request! 🩵 Also as a love letter to you PS enjoyers still out there--as braintwin put it, "this is terrible but we're going to help each other through it" is a sentiment many of us could use right now.)

~

In which Astarion gets worse and worse at not being in love, i.e. Chapter 22. Content warning for dubious consent.

~

Astarion didn’t like magic on principle, after how many ways it had been used to make his life a living Hell. Not that he would dissuade Tyrus from all the useful tricks the drow creatively employed to make their existence a bit less miserable. To feed Astarion, even, despite what it cost him.

And until recently—until Cazador took Tyrus away for an entire year, and then just a single, life-ruining night—the little magic Astarion had a knack for seemed useless anyway. Right up until he started secretly researching Polymorph for the chance to give Tyrus something for once, and happened upon Prestidigitation in the opening chapters of an arcane book.

It felt dangerously easy, practicing the incantation and hand somatics just a few times one morning until Astarion felt the spark of something in his hands. But that was just before the door opened and Tyrus walked in late with a flat, empty look in his eyes, pulling Astarion away from the little discovery.

Astarion tried to cheer him with a warm, “Good morrow, love,” as Tyrus shut the door, wondering if he should share his private studies now to lift the drow’s dour spirits. 

But Astarion quickly forgot the notion when he saw Tyrus’s face crumple into something terrified and broken as their eyes met.

Astarion didn’t think further before snapping the book shut and tossing it onto the bedside pile, going upright. He had to hold himself back from a faster speed, really, not wanting to rush Tyrus despite his hurry to reach him.

In the meantime, Tyrus was murmuring something Astarion only belatedly realized must have been a few spells, his dark ruby eyes flashing with just the smallest twinkle before he stared at the wall to Astarion’s right. And the terror faded back behind that flat, empty expression again, in the bare seconds before Astarion stood in front of him.

“Tyrus?” When Tyrus made no answer, Astarion reached out—then stopped himself. “ What’s happened?” he entreated instead, stepping just a bit closer.

Finally, Tyrus looked at him again, his pale brow furrowing as he asked the last thing Astarion expected: “Can I kiss you?”

Astarion wanted to kiss him every day. He wanted to hold him and touch him, make him smile and bring him pleasure. He wanted Tyrus, with a true desire he’d thought had been lost decades ago.

But in his imaginings of how it would go, the first time they tried intimacy again after Cazador’s assault on Tyrus, Astarion had pictured kissing him after some lovely day of reading stories, or listening to Tyrus ramble about the arcane, or once Astarion had provided Tyrus with a bit of blood.

Not when Tyrus looked the way he did now: scared, resigned—hopeless.

Astarion could only make terrible guesses as to why. “Darling, what’s the matter?” he asked, just barely stopping himself from reaching out a hand and cupping the other man’s cheek.

“I . . .” Tyrus grimaced, looking further crestfallen as he admitted, “I just wanted to ask, before I explain.”

Explain what, part of Astarion wanted to ask right away. But the rest of him didn’t look forward to bad news. Clearly, Tyrus was holding onto something terrible. And the fact that he wanted to kiss Astarion first was concerning on top of strange—but as Astarion looked over Tyrus’s face, he could somehow tell the question was genuine. The desire for Astarion was there, only half-smothered by a thousand other worries and fears and needs at the moment.

It wasn’t close to the ideal kiss Astarion had imagined . . . but outside of whatever else was going on, it seemed to fully be Tyrus’s choice.

With that knowledge, “How could I say no?” 

Astarion took the chance to hold him a bit, on top of joining their lips. And just sliding his palm to press against the small of Tyrus’s back felt like so much combined with the way Tyrus was kissing him, his lips clinging to every movement of Astarion’s as if unwilling to let the kiss end. Whilst a growing flame of desire flared within him, Astarion wrapped his other hand around Tyrus’s shoulders, felt a greedy satisfaction as Tyrus reached up to do the same, and wondered if he needed to know about whatever Tyrus thought should be explained. If they couldn’t just lay down and get lost in each other, just like this, instead.

But Tyrus broke from the kiss and spoke poison into the air: “He’s watching.”

The fire in Astarion’s belly abruptly died a cold, damp death.

The gift of permission into the favorite spawn chamber, so long as Tyrus allowed it, was already tarnished by why Cazador had granted it. And anytime Astarion forgot and felt himself growing too happy, a haunted look would cross Tyrus’s eyes and remind him. Or worse, something dead would flatten the drow’s expression. And Astarion had nothing save useless words and the futile effort of gathering gold to offer.

Nothing, save his own blood.

Considering how long it’d been since Cazador’s fuck-feeding of the poor man, Astarion had guessed another encounter was imminent. Tyrus would have little chance to resist if he didn’t get a single drop of sustenance in the meantime—and perhaps this was the price.

Maybe Astarion should be grateful it was him Tyrus was likely being forced on again, not Cazador himself. 

He wasn’t.

“He wants us to do something,” Tyrus explained, confirming his guess, and Astarion felt abruptly nauseous. Grateful in a rational way that Tyrus was telling him the truth, while also furious in a childish way that he couldn’t have continued on in blissful ignorance. “For me, to—to—”

Astarion’s mind flashed through a dozen terrible possibilities, and suddenly he had to know, so his mind could replace the disgusting, terrifying memory of hurting Tyrus in the kennels with anything else. “For you to what, Tyrus?” he asked, keeping his voice slow and careful despite his inner rage.

It burst out of Tyrus like a convoluted geyser, then. Something to do with Cazador blackmailing Tyrus into performing oral sex on him, first with the promise of blood, then a threat on Astarion, before settling on the likely-more satisfying conclusion of getting to watch the both of them in misery while Tyrus went to Astarion instead.

Not so bad as Astarion had feared, truly. But the misery on Tyrus’s face made sense—Astarion knew the withering, soul-crushing pain of guilt well, despite his own best efforts to cultivate a bit of sadism to counter it. With how much Cazador pulled the strings, the few semblances of choice he offered were almost always equally terrible, detrimental to the soul. But certainly in this case, Tyrus had correctly chosen the lesser of two evils, he thought.

Not that Tyrus seemed to believe it. Either that, or they had already run out of time—for then Tyrus began moving to his knees in front of Astarion as if to start things here. With such a miserable, forlorn expression on his pretty face, Astarion didn’t think even a direct compulsion from Cazador would manage to stir interest in his groin right now.

“Tyrus,” Astarion entreated, putting a hand on the man’s robed shoulder as he checked, “can you wait?”

Tyrus’s eyes widened in sudden horror. “Yes, sorry, whatever you’d like,” he said in a hurried, guilty tone, head ducked as he rose back up and nodded.

Astarion couldn’t stand to see him so unsure, so afraid, when he could still do something about it. So he took a page out of the drow’s own book and pulled Tyrus in, wrapping arms tight around him and feeling his throat tighten at the slight tremor he could feel in Tyrus’s body. 

“That’s alright,” he assured carefully, biting back his usual indignation at useless apologies. Now wasn’t the time to chide Tyrus; it was the time to do everything in his power to make this a neutral or even good experience, if that was possible. “It’s just, the first and only time we did something like this you seemed . . . very hurt, afterwards. Do you remember?” he asked, though it was highly unlikely Cazador would make Tyrus forget anything about initiation. “I even very uncharacteristically agreed to stay a while after, I felt so terrible leaving you in that state. And that was before the—the whipping, the party, and Cazador.”

Tyrus winced against him, even as he mumbled, “I’ll be fine,” into the crook of Astarion’s neck.

But Tyrus was trembling even harder at the reminder, and Astarion refused to simply weather through this, to just try and minimize damage like he had the first time. It hadn’t destroyed them before, but that was likely because nothing had been built yet to destroy. If they just numbed themselves and behaved like rote, obedient animals now, he had a feeling Tyrus wouldn’t be able to enjoy intimacy together ever again. Maybe, neither would he.

So Astarion let out a scoff and pulled from the hug to grab one of Tyrus’s hands, nodding down at how Tyrus’s fingers shook. “Will you?” he pushed back.

Tyrus didn’t answer right away, Astarion was happy to see. The drow’s pale brow furrowed while his eyes began flicking about. Calculating, if Astarion had to guess, in a quick, intelligent, self-aware manner that reminded Astarion of one reason why he was so deeply fond of the man.

The fear was slowly replaced by a small but firm resolve in his expression, before Tyrus asked, “Could you hold me, after?”

And there exemplified yet another reason. 

While the warmth in Astarion’s chest was just as terrifying as it was wonderful and precious and rare, what could he do but lean into it and promise, “After? After you can have whatever you’d like, my love.”

By now, he knew better than to think Tyrus would want the act reciprocated, even if Astarion would happily even their score that way. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to give Tyrus what he truly needed, if the arcane text was correct in saying Polymorph was not a self-casted spell only.

Once they were on the bed—Astarion purposefully on his back to impose the least amount of control, Tyrus kneeling with hesitant movements between his spread legs—Astarion wistfully thought of how he’d imagined their first array into consensual, sexual pleasure. They’d just start out kissing, like they used to when he snuck down to visit in the spawn dormitory, until Tyrus instinctively started grinding against him. Then Astarion would sneak a hand into his trousers, kiss his neck and ears until Tyrus was a whimpering mess again, except this time take him in hand . . .  

It didn’t matter. Instead, no instincts would be allowed save the one to protect, Astarion sternly reminded himself.

But then Tyrus leaned down and just kissed him for a while. And oh, how dearly Astarion had missed every second of this. It wasn’t a mechanical, precise act to satisfy his prey; it wasn’t a loathsome, dominating assault from Cazador. It wasn’t even a performance to please their unwanted audience—Astarion doubted Cazador was enjoying this part. It was simply something soft and warm and blooming between them, growing in passion with slow but reciprocated care. 

Astarion didn’t think twice about it, when he felt Tyrus pulling his shirt loose from his trousers, stroking the skin of his belly under it with soft fingertips. Just felt a swift punch of arousal, once Tyrus broke away to lean down and trail kisses there with his even softer lips instead. By the time Tyrus’s hand trailed lower, Astarion could already feel his cock hardening. And with just a few strokes of Tyrus’s hand over the fabric, it was starting to strain against his trousers.

Once Tyrus had unbuttoned them he hesitated, however. His eyes began to wander about the room, body tensing—remembering, as Astarion suddenly was too, now, who exactly his performance needed to please.

But Cazador apparently hadn’t given them any sort of timetable, and Astarion prided himself in being a seasoned expert at finding loopholes in the bastard’s commands.

“Tyrus,” Astarion murmured, “come back up here,” smiling at him as Tyrus gusted out a sigh and gratefully crawled up his body again. Then Astarion eagerly went back to showering the drow in kisses, on his lips and down his neck while Astarion removed the last barrier of clothing between them and what unfortunately needed to happen next.

Only on Tyrus’s timetable, however. Astarion would be happy to kiss forever—until Cazador gave up his hiding spot, banged down their door, and made them suffer the consequences, even. Rather that, than prod and persuade and gently pressure Tyrus into it for the sake of minimal pain, like Astarion had their first time. He loved . . . he cared for Tyrus much too deeply now for that. 

Where Astarion’s self-preserving nature had run off to, he didn’t know—which only seemed to prove Cazador’s point about things like love only making a person weak. 

But maybe, just maybe, whatever would replace it could be just as strong.

Astarion wasn’t to find out that day—for, a couple minutes later, Tyrus did pull away of his own accord again. And every touch of his hands and his mouth that followed was a painful reminder to Astarion that he hadn’t lost enjoyment of sex. He simply couldn’t call any of what he’d done in the last eight decades something close to it.

Tyrus went slow, of course, some touches starting hesitant, but he didn’t look to be retreating into the back of his mind or reliving some terrible memory, at least. Especially when trying to fit more of Astarion in his mouth, he didn’t seem very at ease—and if this was just the two of them, Astarion would have told him to not bother with more than the head if he didn’t want to. Given everything, he simply kept an eye on Tyrus and made sure to hold his hips perfectly still as the drow set his own pace.

But once a rhythm picked up, Astarion admittedly couldn’t pay attention to the subtle indications of how Tyrus was doing when the mere sight of him taking Astarion in deeper was enough to wash Astarion’s senses in sharp, full-body pleasure. And beyond the sight, the feel of his wet, warm mouth, the tight circle of his lips, and the steady strokes of his hand around the base of Astarion’s cock—it was enough to pull thoughtless, brazen words of affection from Astarion’s lips as he smoothed away the other elf’s silky hair from his face and rode the building waves of pleasure.

Astarion was fairly certain he attempted to warn Tyrus when he was close, but to no avail. Tyrus only seemed to take him in deeper, more determinedly, all at once until the pleasure reached a tipping point and suddenly flooded through Astarion’s entire body. He didn’t think much after that as he groaned through the consuming, bright pleasure of it, vaguely aware of Tyrus dutifully swallowing and continuing to gently stroke with his mouth and hand as Astarion shuddered through a slow, glowing comedown.

Eventually the sensations carried over into over-sensitivity, not prolonged pleasure, not that Astarion had the presence of mind to explain that to Tyrus. He only reached down and nudged at the man’s shoulder, sighing in relief as the stimulation stopped.

That sigh caught in his throat, when Astarion heard Tyrus suddenly speak in a hoarse, deadened tone, informing him: “This was a gift from your master.”

Then the afterglow sputtered out as quick as water over a flame.

Tyrus had put a hand over his own mouth, his eyes wide as silver platters before squeezing shut the next moment in clear shame. But Astarion didn’t need to see such a reaction, to know exactly who sent the message.

Every good, temporary enjoyment he’d felt during the act just made him angry now. But of course, Cazador wanted them to be intimate on his terms. But of course, he couldn’t just allow Tyrus to do this to Astarion instead without having the last word. And of course, he had to remind Astarion in yet another visceral way, that he’d poisoned this tree from its very roots.

Yet somehow, Astarion kept hoping the fruits of their relationship wouldn’t ruin them both? Cazador was somewhere laughing at Astarion for his own stupidity, right now.

Somehow, he did still hope, Astarion realized whilst quickly redressing and running to fetch something he could wrap around Tyrus’s trembling shoulders. Somewhere along the way, it had become second nature to fight for something he could only hope for, to always put someone else before himself—even to learn a bit of magic, after all these years.

As Astarion tried to cast Prestidigitation on the blanket in his hands, a small voice in his head whispered, What else could you call that, but love?

[whisperofwonder]

Kageyama Tobio x reader - 700 words

I will never be over Kageyama's goofy smiles

The photographer is starting to get frustrated - you can tell. And Tobio? He's getting antsy, to say the least. This photo session is taking longer than you'd anticipated, and you know your new husband wants nothing more than to be rid of his tie, and to dive into the food at the reception. First, though, the photographer needs to get her shots in.

"Kageyama-san? I'm sorry," She pulls the camera away from her face again. "Maybe just, ah, relax," She suggests. If anything, you feel his shoulders tense more. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of the stiff, unnatural smile on his face, and you grimace. You know he's capable of a real, genuine smile. You've seen it countless times. It's just that, the moment a camera appears, his lips seem to forget how to work. At this rate, your wedding photos will be little short of a disaster. So much for the photo collage you'd envisioned in your living room.

You're just about to put the poor photographer out of her misery and call it quits when your new sister-in-law steps in. "Can I make a suggestion?" Miwa asks, moving forward from her spot behind the photographer. "Tobio," She takes her brother's arm, "Turn this way. There you go." She reaches for you next, gently turning you so that, rather than facing the photographer, you and Tobio are angled more toward each other. "There," She nods approvingly. "That should be much better."

"Just a few more," You say for Tobio's benefit, reaching to give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Sorry," He murmurs, returning the squeeze as his lips turn up at the corners, the beginnings of an unforced smile. You smile back in encouragement, hoping to coax it out of him. It seems to work, because as he rests a hand at your waist to pull you closer, the smile has finally taken over his face. You vaguely register that the photographer is snapping one photo after another, and you're just glad to be making some progress. Soon enough, she's decided she has enough shots, and you can finally move on to the reception.

Weeks later, you're lying in bed waiting for Tobio to get out of the shower when you get the message from the photographer that your photos are ready. You eagerly open the album, excited to finally see the photos captured on your big day.

The photos of just the two of you come first. The photographer had definitely managed to get a few passable shots with the two of you facing the camera. Tobio's smile is a bit forced, but believable enough. As you keep scrolling, though, the difference is shocking.

In the photos taken after Miwa had turned you toward each other, something completely different had taken over his face. In one photo after another, your husband is looking at you with full, genuine adoration. His smile is wide and warm, his eyes soft. It hadn't occurred to you at the time, but the two of you really do look like you're in your own little world. You feel warmth curling through your middle all over again. These photos perfectly capture every emotion you'd felt on your wedding day.

"What are you smiling at?" You'd been so wrapped up in the photos that you hadn't heard Tobio emerge from the bathroom.

"Our wedding photos are done!" You announce, still tickled by how well they'd come out.

"Oh," He quickly crawls under the covers, "Let me see." He hangs his chin over your shoulder, and you gladly scroll back to the beginning to share them with him. He doesn't say much, but neither do you. You're just happy admiring the photos.

"They're perfect, aren't they?" You ask when you've finally reached the end.

"Yeah," He says softly, and when you turn he's already looking at you. That same smile is back on his face, soft and warm. You can't help but return it. "I love you," He adds, leaning in for a kiss.

"I love you too," You murmur as you pull away, savoring the expression on his face. You love all of his smiles, even the goofy pasted-on ones, but the smiles just for you will always be your favorite.

[gothamite-rambler]

Spoiler (Stephanie Brown) getting her first rogues gallery member... and it's flipping Kite-Man

Context: Stephanie Brown, known as Spoiler, has navigated the challenges of being a Gotham hero and a member of the Batfamily, facing death, heartbreak, and personal struggles that have defined her journey. Now, Kite Man wants to be her nemesis, dubbing it a rivalry. As she juggles her responsibilities, the last thing she needs is a villain in a kite suit. This series will be ongoing, though updates will be irregular. Notes at the bottom for anyone curious why I'm making this a series :)

Spoiler Meets Kite-Man:

As Spoiler sang "Plastic Love," she takes on two thieves attempting to rob a teenage boy.

Spoiler: I'm just playing games, I know that's plastic love. Dance to the plastic beat. Another morning comes, I'm just playing games.

With a swift kick, Spoiler sent the last goon sprawling to the ground. She reached out to help the teenager who had fallen during the botched robbery, grateful to have witnessed the villains being taken down. He smiled in relief, but then noticed an irritating figure before Spoiler did. Kite-Man, on his way to commit a petty crime, abruptly stopped, impressed by the hero's singing.

Kite-Man: Dang, you sing really well!

Spoiler spotted him and grinned beneath her mask. As she flipped her hair back, her long blonde locks brushed against the teen's face, causing him to rub his eye in irritation.

Spoiler (with pride): Well, you see, I’m classically trained.

Kite-Man: In choir?

Spoiler (beaming): No, karaoke!

Kite-Man (sincerely): That’s awesome, it really shows!

Spoiler: Aw, thanks! By the way, aren’t you the kite guy?

Kite-Man (laughing): That’s right! Kite-Man’s the name, and I’m quite popular in Gotham.

The teenage boy standing next to Spoiler shook his head in disbelief at Kite-Man's ostentatious claims.

Spoiler: Okay, okay, you're not about to break the law tonight are you?

Kite-Man (lying): Just on a nightly stroll, not committing any crimes.

Spoiler: Huh, um, well you complimented my masterful singing skills... you can't be that bad. I’ll let you go this time. Consider yourself pardoned.

Kite-Man (smiling): Thanks! What’s your hero name?

Spoiler: Spoiler. Former Robin. Current girl boss.

The boy beside her rolled his eyes, genuinely perplexed that this was happening right in front of him.

Kite-Man: I like it! Thanks, Spoiler. See ya!

Spoiler waved as Kite-Man pressed a button his suit and flew away.

Spoiler (shaking her head with a chuckle): What a goofy guy.

Teen: He’s pretty dumb too, but aren’t you supposed to arrest him? He breaks the law all the time.

Spoiler (shrugging): Eh, he’s mostly harmless. I doubt I’ll be seeing him again.

Kite-Man’s Antics Continue

She was not correct about the not seeing him again. Over the next few weeks, Chuck—aka Kite-Man—continued his sporadic crime spree around Gotham.

Purse snatching

Stealing from stores and gas stations

Robbing the same three banks

Swiping prizes from an arcade because the ticket prices were “totally criminal.”

And while she agreed with that last part, Spoiler just couldn’t catch a break; she always ended up confronting him, no matter the time or the weather. It wasn’t just that she was encountering him; she was the only one actually arresting him. Here she was once more, stepping in during an active robbery at Bill’s Gold and Pawn, a place Stephanie thought of as a hub for taking advantage of others.

Spoiler: Don’t be him, don’t be him, don’t be him! Don’t be robbing this pawn shop—

Spoiler kicked the door to the shop open and rushed inside, spotting Kite-Man holding a sack for cash and aiming what was unmistakably a prop gun at the frustrated worker.

Spoiler (exhausted): God damn it- Oop!

She swiftly covered her mouth, mortified at her mistake.

Spoiler (frustrated): You just made me swear! Thanks a lot!

Kite-Man: Oh… sorry! How you been, Spoiler?

Spoiler: Not great; my ex-boyfriend stole my car and crashed it—why are you robbing a pawn shop?!

Kite-Man: These people rob customers! They’re selling an iPad for $250, which I bet someone traded for cash and only got half that back.

Worker (sheepishly): She… got a hundred dollars back.

Kite-Man shot a glance at Spoiler, as if he believed she completely grasped his reasoning. She somewhat did, but she wasn’t about to let him off the hook, especially since Batman had been suspicious of her for a while, given how consistently he managed to evade her.

Spoiler (annoyed): Kite-Man!

Kite-Man: Come on, I need the money!

Worker: You’re stealing Pokémon cards and cash, dude.

Kite-Man: Can’t a guy have hobbies?

Spoiler covered her eyes with a hand, perplexed by how she had ended up with this relentless crook on her hands. He wasn't a cool villain or even insane enough to fear for her. At this point, he was just an annoyance.

Spoiler: Why is this my life?

Oracle (over comms): Spoiler, don’t waste time; you need to arrest Kite-Man.

Spoiler (into her comm): Oracle, butt out of this!

Oracle (annoyed): Oh, well ex-freaking-scuse me. I’ll just stay quiet while you deal with your “friend.”

Spoiler: He’s not my friend! Oracle, focus on someone else!

Kite-Man (confused): Oracle?

Spoiler: Um, it’s Bluetooth with my… mom, who also happens to be psychic.

Regret washed over her as she realized her mistake in labeling her highly catholic mother as a psychic. At least she was there to hear it, but Kite-Man nodded understanding.

Kite-Man: My aunt was a psychic. She predicted her husband would die… she left out the part about her stabbing him to death. You know, Spoiler… we’re kind of in sync today.

Spoiler (stunned, whimpering): What?

Kite-Man turned his attention back to Spoiler with a grin.

Kite-Man: You’ve stopped my crimes more than any other hero in Gotham! You don’t mop the floor with me like Batman, Nightwing, or Red Hood. You even let me escape a few times!

Spoiler (frantically pressing her comm): That happened one time!

Oracle (scolding tone): Spoiler, be honest.

Spoiler: Okay, rule of threes! Three times, and I have reasons for all of them!

Oracle (with a mocking tone): I'll make sure Batman gets those reasons. I'm texting him as we speak. You can continue bantering with your friend.

Spoiler heard Oracle chuckling with amusement causing the hero to clench her fist in anger.

Spoiler (replacing all curse words): Son of—glip glop meep top slot pot! Dang it! Batman is going to chew me out!

Kite-Man: Oh my God, same dude! Hell yeah, we’re still in sync! This has got to mean something.

Spoiler's eyes widened as she processed where this conversation was heading.

Worker (joining in with a smile): Dude, she’s like your… rival. The one you battle with the most. Like if you're committing crimes, she shows up!

Kite-Man (excited): Yes! Joker and Batman, me and her, him or them- no judgment, I respect the pronouns you go by.

Spoiler (squeaky voice): Why are you respecting my possible pronouns? This is not happening!

Kite-Man (snapping his fingers and lowering his prop gun): I know this is crazy right, but that means I have my first rival who isn’t a six-foot-tall man in a bat costume! We’re rivals! And look at you—you’re young too, so thank you for making me your first rival. Hell yeah, high five!

Kite-Man held up a hand, waiting for a high five. The disinterested worker shrugged and slapped Kite-Man's hand as Spoiler seethed, her left eye twitching.

Spoiler: Okay, hold up—I’ll take the young compliment, thanks, but that’s not—this is not—

Spoiler's rant is interrupted by a cackle from Oracle, which quickly escalated into a laugh that seems to last forever. Spoiler groaned in frustration. She had to squash this before it became permanent then she would arrest Kite-Man and go about her day.

Spoiler (waving her hands to end the conversation): No, no, no! That’s not even the right word. You’d be my nemesis.

Oracle (between laughs): Oh yeah, give it a different word. That’ll fix it! I told you just to arrest him—nope, you just kept it going! Karma!

Spoiler (ignoring Oracle): “Nemesis” is the word if we were that, but we’re not!

Kite-Man (missing the point): Nah “rivals” sounds better and it works for us. We have good banter and you let me go that first time we met—

Spoiler (irate whispering): Would you stop saying that out loud?! Oracle, you did NOT hear that!

Oracle (gleefully): I already sent the text, girlfriend. You two continue your chat. I’m just enjoying my water.

Growing furious, Spoiler stormed over to Kite-Man and snatched the prop gun from him. She started punching him in the nose until he collapsed on the floor, groaning in pain.

Spoiler (to the worker): We’re not rivals—I mean, nemeses!

Worker: Kind of seems like you are.

Spoiler: Whatever! Your opinion means nothing, because you resell people’s valuables for outrageous prices after giving them a quarter of the value!

Kite-Man (weakly lifting a finger): That's what I’m saying! They’re the true villains!

Spoiler (dropping the fake gun onto Kite-Man's head): Shut the frack up!

After the chaos, she escorted Kite-Man out of the pawn shop and toward the Gotham police station. Just before the cops took him away, he cheerfully addressed one of the officers with some great news.

Kite-Man: Just keep an eye on her—she's my rival, and I'll see her again.

Spoiler: Stop manifesting this it's not happening! I'm not your rival or nemesis! I'm just the one who saves your sorry self more than any of the other fifty heroes in Gotham!

A drug dealer sitting in a nearby cell clutched the bars and chimed in, echoing the disbelief of everyone nearby.

Dealer: You just confirmed what he said, but you twisted the definition.

Jim Gordon (sitting at the front desk): Pretty much. He’s an idiot, but he’s not wrong—you're rivals.

Spoiler (yelling): We are not!

Oracle (laughing): Would you just leave? I'm about to pee myself, this is hilarious.

Spoiler pivoted on her heel and marched toward the door, but Kite-Man's next words stopped her in her tracks.

Kite-Man: Sorry about your crappy boyfriend stealing your car, Spoiler. Crazy exes are the worst; I totally get it.

Dealer: Oh yeah, he’s definitely your rival.

Spoiler refused to continue the conversation and walked out of the precinct grumbling under her breath. 

Int. Stephanie Brown's apartment - Midafternoon

In her apartment, Stephanie sat across from her mother, Crystal Brown, as they talked about Kite-Man. Crystal, an Irish immigrant who moved to America in her twenties, had been married to Clue Master for a time before thankfully leaving him.

She struggled with a prescription pill addiction for a while, which strained her relationship with Stephanie, but she'd since recovered and found faith. A small silver cross necklace hung around her neck at all times. Today, even though, Stephanie wasn't in the mood for her mother’s often annoying religious musings, she needed to vent to someone free for the day after Bruce had scolded her for letting Kite-Man escape three times and throwing a fit at the police station.

Stephanie: I can’t stand him! He'll be there with a goofy weapon or bungling and just when I think I can handle it, he starts talking. He sounds like a total douche from California!

Crystal: Sort of like that one man ya dated in college?

Stephanie nodded, burying her head in her hands.

Stephanie: He is so annoying! His whole schtick is wearing a kite suit! Not flying a kite, which would actually be cool—his suit is the kite, and somehow he knows how to fly it!

Crystal (placing a hand on her chest): My word, I thought your father had a stupid schtick.

Stephanie: Right?! I was so frazzled during that pawn shop robbery that I lied and said Oracle was you, and that you were a psychic! I even cursed!

Crystal (bothered by one detail): All right, I can understand the cursin' with a man like that—I was married to Clue Master after all—but don’t drag me into ya lil charade as a charlatan. I’m many things, but I’m not into mysticism. God knows all, not me—

Stephanie groaned, having expected her mother missing the point.

Stephanie: Ma, focus! He keeps saying I’m his rival, which is totally not the right term, but at the same time, he’s not wrong. He’s messing with me, and I can’t shake him off! Bruce is already mad that I let him get away! How was I supposed to know he’d rob all those places right after?

Crystal: Aye, well, first off, Arthur has met this Kite-Man and said he was a goofy nuisance in prison but considers himself the best bad guy in Gotham… so there’s that. And as much as it pains me to say it, Bruce was right it wasn’t smart to let him go.

Stephanie (monotone): I don’t know what scares me more: that you’re agreeing with Bruce or that now I find myself agreeing with Arthur. Oh God, he’s making me see eye to eye with my father!

Crystal: You won’t like this next part then… from the way you’ve been describing him, I hate to say it, sweetie, but he’s—

Stephanie (covering her eyes): Don't say it.

Crystal placed a supportive hand over her daughter’s.

Crystal: I'm sorry, love, but he's your nemesis - or the rival thing.

Stephanie whimpered, lowering her head in shame. Her mother patted her hand with a plaintive smile. She just wanted this day to end, but with Kite-Man potentially joining her rogue gallery, it seemed this wouldn’t be the last time they crossed paths, nor would it be the last time she’d have to arrest him or let him go.

A/N: I chose to write this because I love the trope of bumbling villains who mistakenly thinks they’re a hero’s main adversary. Kite Man believes he’s Spoiler’s (Stephanie) ‘rival’—a word I used when I forgot the word 'nemesis.' Although Spoiler doesn’t like him, he sees her as a cool hero who doesn't beat him up as badly as Batman has. This dynamic is reminiscent of the Flash’s interactions with his villains. It's inspired by jokes from Kite Man, Hell Yeah!

[krirebr]

I Know I Should Know Better 7/End

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female Reader

Word Count: ~3.6k

Summary: Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?

Warnings: Angst, adult themes, explicit language, anxiety, but mostly, it's a goddamn happy ending, you guys!! Finally!!! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Holy shit. I can't believe it. We've made it to the end of this series. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's been along on this ride. Your support of this story has really bowled me over. I so hope you love this ending as much as I do.

For this one, especially, any comment, reblog, or ask will mean so much to me. I can't wait to talk to you all about where we leave our sweet beans.

Curtis stood on the front step of your house, waiting to be let in. He'd never gone in this way before, not even the first time. But he didn’t work for you anymore. He was the boyfriend now. A guest. So he'd play by the rules he'd always been so annoyed with Colin and Johnny and the like for flaunting. 

It only took a few minutes for Jensen to open the door. “Hey man,” he greeted warmly. “You know you don’t have to stand out here. Come on, get in.” Curtis followed Jake in, then stood somewhat awkwardly in the entryway. Luckily, Jake kept talking. “I should’ve texted you, but I was really sorry to hear how that whole thing went down. It wasn’t fair to either of you.”

“Thanks, Jake,” Curtis said sincerely. “I appreciate it. And I’m sorry, for all the secrecy.”

Jake shook his head. “No, don’t be sorry. You didn’t owe me any of that.”

Curtis gave a slight nod. “I hope you at least got a promotion out of it.”

Jake ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, kind of. Although I’m sort of pulling double duty right now while we try to find a new driver. But I think the trip went well, so…” he trailed off and shrugged. “You found something, yet?”

Curtis just shook his head. Honestly, he’d barely started looking for his next job. He’d been tired of personal security for a while now, and this seemed like a good opportunity to see what was next. Figure out what he actually wanted. Growing up in foster care, he’d been too aware of how easily things could be taken away, so as soon as he’d started making money, saving had been a priority for him. He had a decent rainy day fund set aside now. He figured he might as well make use of it. And if he got to a point where he needed to pick up a short-term gig here or there, he was sure, with all of his connections now, that he’d be able to do that. “No,” he said, “I think I’m gonna take my time.”

“Nice,” Jake nodded. “Good for you. Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I always liked working with you.”

That got a genuine smile out of Curtis. “Thanks, Jake, you too.” He glanced around your house anxiously. He thought he heard Michelle in the living room, but he didn’t know who else might be here, occupying your time. “Everybody still busy with her?”

“No, the stylist and makeup artists left a couple of minutes ago. I think she’s just getting dressed now, in her room. You should be good.”

Curtis nodded, patted Jake on the shoulder, and made his way through your house.

Two weeks apart. They’d been filled with constant texting, evening phone calls, as much checking in as he could manage in your busy schedule. Hearing about your appearances, junket days, meet and greets. You were finally back, as of that morning, but he still had to steal time for your reunion before the last of your late-night talk show appearances. Your schedule never stopped.

He took the stairs up to your bedroom two at a time and gave a light knock once he got to your door. It immediately swung open to reveal you standing right in front of him in your underwear. He barely had a moment to process before you were throwing yourself at him, filling his arms with you, burying your face in his neck. “I’m so happy you’re here,” you breathed.

“Yeah,” he whispered, holding you as tight as he could. “Me too. Me too.” He shuffled you further into the room so he could kick the door shut behind him and then stood there with you in his arms for as long as you both needed.

You finally pulled away and he took his chance to look around. A rolling rack of clothing your stylist must have brought over was against one wall. Two outfits were laid out on the bed. Your suitcase was flung open in the far corner of the room, items spilling out of it. And then he took you in. Your hair and makeup were already done, but if he looked very closely, he could see the barest hint of bags under your eyes. Your smile was a little sad and you were picking at your nails, seemingly without realizing it. “How are you doing?” he asked, softly.

“I’m alright. I’m– I don’t know. I’m really tired, but,” you looked around yourself, “I’m happy to be home.”

He nodded. The exhaustion was radiating off of you. You’d told him in one of your late-night phone conversations that you’d barely slept on your trip. He wished he could wrap you up and tuck you into bed right now. “Were you able to sleep on the plane at all?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s just been,” you shrugged again, “too much to think about.”

He opened his mouth to ask what was on your mind, but you were already turning away. You went to the foot of your bed and stared at the outfits laid out there. 

“Which do you think?” you asked, your hands on your hips.

He looked at the two outfits. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for. He didn’t feel like he really knew clothes well enough to offer any sort of an opinion. One was a dress, low-cut and mid-length, maybe. The other was a pair of shiny black pants, although not leather, and a billowy metallic tank. Each outfit had a corresponding pair of sky-high heels sitting at the foot of the bed. “What are you gonna be most comfortable in?” he finally asked. 

You sighed ruefully. “Yeah, I'm sure jeans and a t-shirt would go over real well.” After a moment of thought, you picked up the pants and blouse and started putting them on. 

You were both quiet as you put on the finishing touches. He helped you with the necklace and bracelets, his big hands carefully opening and closing the clasps.

You stepped away and turned to him. “What do you think?” you asked, a touch of shyness in your voice. 

He closed the space between you and put his hands on your hips. “You’re beautiful,” he said, sincerely. 

You just looked at him for a moment, studying his face for something, he didn’t know what. Finally, you asked, “You really do love me, don't you?” with just a touch of awe in your voice.

“Yes,” he said without a moment of hesitation, trying to infuse that one word with all of his certainty. 

He'd only told you he loved you a few times, since that first time, not wanting to overwhelm or pressure you. He knew he'd jumped ahead. You hadn't said it back yet which was fine. He understood. You'd get there when you were ready. But even if he was trying to go at your pace, he never wanted you to doubt him.

You kissed him unabashedly at that and it did something to settle the worry he'd felt since he laid eyes on you. You pulled back and grinned, the first real smile he'd seen from you since before you left for New York. “I'm gonna get yelled at for messing up my lipstick, but I don't care,” you said, before going in for another, shorter one. He gripped your hips tighter as you pulled your head away, giving him a knowing smirk. “Come on, I’m sure I’m already running late.”

He didn’t let go. Something about this time, just the two of you, felt too precious. “I don’t work for you anymore. I’m the boyfriend now, so I don’t fucking care if you’re late.”

You laughed, big and loud, and it quieted the rest of the unease he’d been feeling about how you were doing. When you were done, you leaned into his chest and just stood there. “I missed you so much,” you whispered.

“I missed you too,” he whispered back wrapping his arms around you. He took a deep breath, savoring the fact that you were there, in front of him, in his arms. Right now, he had you.

And then, of course, there was an impatient knock on the door. “I'll be right there!” you called out, then knocked your forehead against his shoulder, taking a deep fortifying breath. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, “you're so good at this. No matter what, this is something you can do. I've always admired the way you handle this stuff. OK? You can do this.”

You sighed and nodded into his shoulder. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. You’d talked, a little, about how upset you’d both gotten the night before you’d left for New York. He couldn’t help but feel that maybe in his frustration and desperation and worry, he’d come on too strong. He knew you weren’t upset with him, but– “I just want you to be happy. No matter what that looks like, I just want to help you get there.”

You moved your head from where it was tucked into his shoulder so you could look him in the eye. “I know,” you said, gratefulness shining in your eyes. “If I know anything, I know that.” You kissed him again, short and soft and sweet. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

It was an odd experience, climbing into the back of your SUV instead of sitting with Jake in the front. Michelle sat in the middle row, acting pointedly cold to him. That was fine, honestly. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive her for the things she’d said when the news of your relationship broke. He didn’t know when he would be. You deserved better.

You were very quiet. He wanted to ask, again, about what was on your mind, but he didn’t want to do that with an audience. So he held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, and didn’t move a muscle when you rested your head on his shoulder.

Curtis couldn’t stop fidgeting. He was sitting by himself on what he used to derisively think of as the boyfriend couch. Michelle was on the other couch, focused on emails as always, while Tanya hovered in the middle of the room. There were snacks and drinks laid out on the green room’s coffee table that he was welcome to now, but he hadn’t touched them. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, filling up the big TV on the wall as you chatted with one of the countless late-night Jimmy’s. You looked okay. A little stiff. A little tired. But that was probably only because he knew all the signs to look for.  

You’d covered all the benign greetings and small talk and were now getting into the meat of the interview. Whichever Jimmy this was reached across his desk and held up a black paperboard-backed picture of you, twelve or thirteen years old, complete with braces and awkward pigtails. It was from that fucking show. 

He saw the anxiety flash across your face, quickly followed by your cheerful mask, although he didn't think he imagined the way it was more strained than usual. Tanya saw it too, judging by the way she took a step forward. 

Jimmy was blathering on about the recent influx of TV reunions and reboots and wouldn’t it be fun, wouldn't everyone just love it if there was some sort of reunion for this? The audience roared in agreement. 

You forced a chuckle that wouldn't have fooled anyone, pure panic in your eyes. And then you looked directly into the camera and Curtis knew, he knew, that you were looking at him. He tried to send you all of his confidence, all of his support, all of his love. All of his certainty that however you wanted to handle this, you could do it.

He was fooling himself, he knew, but he was sure that you felt it, because in the next moment you took a deep breath, turned to Jimmy, and said, “No, I don't think so.”

Jimmy just gaped at you for a second, clearly taken aback by you suddenly not playing along. He tried to cover with a good-natured laugh and “What? Oh no! Why not?”

You didn't match his tone. You responded seriously, “I really hated making that show.” There were a few audible gasps from the audience, but you ignored them. “Everyone did. It was a miserable place to be. Everyone hated each other. Everyone fought all the time. For seven years! I was a child and no one protected me from that. I went to work every day, as a child, in the most toxic environment. But I was making money. So I guess it was ok.

“And now, god, it’s been ten years! And everyone just keeps bringing it up. It’s all anyone wants to talk to me about. And I just can’t talk about it anymore. I really can’t. I’m not gonna do it again. I’m done with that.”

“What the hell is she doing?” Tanya muttered next to Curtis, who was standing up now, unable to take his eyes off you. Whatever you were doing, it was incredible.

He could tell that the host wanted to break in, he kept looking wildly off-camera to someone for help, but you just kept talking. You wouldn’t stop.

“There’s just– There’s so much I don’t want to do anymore. I’m not doing ok, you know? I mean, you must know. It’s all over every gossip site. I’m not ok. I haven’t been ok for a very long time, maybe ever. But I just keep going forward in the same way, because that’s all I’ve ever done since I was a kid. That’s all I’ve known how to do. But I think– I think I’m done doing that now. I want to figure out how to be ok.”

Curtis took a step closer to the screen. “Holy shit,” he mumbled, deep pride filling his chest, “she’s doing it.” 

“What is she doing, Curtis?” Tanya asked, somewhat hysterically.

He ignored her. He couldn’t see or hear anything other than you. 

Back on the TV, Jimmy cleared his throat and opened his mouth, trying to somehow stop his show from careening wildly off the rails. But you put your hand up to stop him. 

“Please, Jimmy, I know. You asked a simple question and you got all this instead,” you laughed, unabashed, and there it was. There you were. Curtis beamed at seeing it. “Just let me say this one last thing.” You looked directly into the camera again. “I– I am really proud of this movie. We worked really hard on it, and I hope you go see it.” 

A laugh escaped Curtis. God, you were so good at this, knowing exactly what you were contractually obligated to do. He glanced quickly at the other end of the green room. Michelle was standing now too, her mouth wide open in shock, while Tanya looked like she might have a stroke.

“And I think–” you continued. ”I think it might be the last movie I do for a while. The last anything. We'll see.”

A wave of murmurs went through the studio audience. Curtis had fully forgotten they were even there during all this, they’d been so quiet since you’d really gotten going, just as enraptured by you as he was.

“Ok,” you said, with a sheepish smile. “That’s it. I’m– I’m done.” Then you stood, took off your mic pack, gently laid it on the chair, and walked off stage.

As Jimmy awkwardly threw to a commercial break, Curtis raced into the hallway. He walked towards the stage as fast as he could, intercepting you about halfway there, a lost-looking PA trailing behind you. You looked a little shell-shocked but good. You looked so fucking good. 

He gently touched your face with both hands as soon as you were within reach. “Holy shit, that was incredible. You’re incredible. I can't believe you did that. I'm so fucking proud of you.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your voice a little shaky, your eyes a little watery. “I didn't– I wasn't planning to. But then he asked about the show and, I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about all of the things you're always telling me. About living my own life and what I'm worth. And I just thought, ‘What if I actually do what I want for once?’ And, yeah.” You shrugged.

“Fucking incredible,” Curtis whispered and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and a little desperate and so, so happy. 

So of course it was cut short when Tanya called out your name. You both turned around to look at her standing at the end of the hall, looking harried. “What was that?! How on earth am I supposed to clean that up?!”

“Tanya,” you said, your voice shockingly calm and firm. “Stop. There's nothing to clean up. You're fired.”

It took everything inside of Curtis not to whoop with joy or pick you up and spin you around. But, shit, he wanted to. He really, really wanted to.

Your gaze moved to where Michelle stood behind Tanya. “Sorry, Michelle,” you said with a frown, “you too. I don't think I'll need a team or an assistant for a while.”

“You need to stop and think about this,” Tanya said, her tone placating. 

“I already have. Thank you both, sincerely, for everything you've done for me, but it's time to try something new.” And then you grabbed Curtis’s hand and led him back down the hall. 

You quietly got your things from the green room and changed your shoes, then brought Curtis outside through a side door, far away from where fans were gathered, expecting you to run into your SUV.

You took a deep breath as soon as you hit the fresh air. “I kind of just want to walk around for a while. That ok?”

“Yeah, whatever you want,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. There were a few hours before the show aired on the East Coast. A few hours, hopefully, before the bomb you’d just set fully exploded. A walk sounded nice.

 You headed away from the studio and Curtis was content to follow your lead. You didn't say anything, which was fine. He figured you had a lot to process. 

After several minutes, you let out a long, deep breath. “Holy shit. I can't believe I just did that. Holy shit, Curtis, I just quit!”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, carefully, wanting to make sure you weren't wracked with regret.

You took your time answering. Then finally, “So relieved. Just so fucking relieved.”

He stopped you from walking, using his grip on your hand to turn you to face him. “I hope you understand just how incredibly proud of you I am. How brave I think you are.”

“Curtis,” you said quietly, ducking your head, clearly overwhelmed. 

“I mean it,” he said as he squeezed your hand and started walking again. 

After several more minutes of companionable silence, you slowed down a little. “So, where do you think we should go?”

He shrugged and glanced around the area. “I don’t know. I could eat. Think you can get away with ducking into a burger place?”

You laughed and he stopped short at how nervous you sounded. “No, that’s not– I didn’t mean–” You shook your head and he turned so he was fully facing you. “I don’t know, it’s just– You said a year, remember? Back on my couch, you said I should take a year.” You were avoiding his eyes now, and you sounded so shy.

Your couch. That night, however many months ago. When you’d let him really see behind the mask, and he brushed his fingers against yours for the first time. As he realized what you were trying to ask him, the weight of it, the enormity of what you were offering, all he was able to do was whisper, “I remember.”

“Ok, well, I thought that maybe we could do that. Take a break. Go somewhere maybe, if there was somewhere you wanted to go.”

It took him a minute, as he was flooded with so many things—how much he loved you, how much he wanted to do for you, give to you, how happy he was in this moment—but once he found his voice, he gently grasped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Wherever you are,” he said, with the most conviction he thought he had ever said anything. He leaned in and kissed you. It was short and more chaste than he wanted, but he was too conscious of how out in the open you were. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. “Absolutely anywhere you are.”

You threw your arms around him and moved your head so your lips were right next to his ear. And then you said, so so softly, so that it was just for him, “I love you. I'm so in love with you.”

A warmth he didn’t think he’d ever felt before filled his whole chest. All he could do was just hold you, right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, murmuring in your ear just how much he loved you, too.

Eventually, you’d start walking again. You’d find a little restaurant to duck into for a bite to eat. He’d make you put your phone on speaker as you told Lloyd and Wilford they were fired. And you’d figure out what came next, where you would go, what the logistics of quitting actually entailed. Then you’d get an Uber home and show each other with your bodies just how much you cared. 

But for now, he just wanted to hold you in the middle of the sidewalk.

I love you all. Thank you so much for reading. 💜

Tag List

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[fluenzed]

AFTER OBX - JJ MAYBANK FANFICTION PART 3

fanfiction | jj maybank | alternative ending | obx | 4674 words

warning: mention of sex, drugs, alcohol and violence

This is the first story I've written, so please be kind and understanding! English isn't my first language, so feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes or if something is unclear.

CHAPTER 3 - "Trust me Al', I really want to."

As Alex cracked her eyes open in the dark, she could already feel the remnants of last night—a dull throb in her temples and the lazy weight of sleep still in her bones. It was barely five a.m., but JJ had insisted: the earlier, the more fish you get. She wasn’t sure if that was a proven fact or just JJ's wishful thinking, but here she was, rolling out of bed anyway. She blinked at her phone, and there it was, his message glowing on the screen:

"Hey, are you up already?"

She couldn’t help but smile, feeling his excitement even through the small screen. She hadn’t known JJ long, but he was a mystery to her. He spent most of his time on the docks, fixing boats and selling bait, a kind of old-soul existence that set him apart from anyone she knew. She felt like he hid his thoughts behind that easy smile of his, a mask for something heavier. Sometimes, when their eyes met, she saw glimpses of the loneliness he kept carefully under wraps, a glint of sadness she wasn’t used to seeing from him.

"Hey, yes, I'm gonna shower," she typed back quickly, and stretching before trudging to the bathroom.

"I’m leaving now. Be there in 20 minutes." Alex answered briefly, and entered the shower, the hot water cascaded over her shoulders, and the steam wrapped her in a welcome warmth that chased away the lingering grogginess. The shower did wonders, the heat working through her muscles as she thought about JJ's invitation. He hadn’t just wanted her to come along; he seemed genuinely excited, maybe a little more than usual. They'd been hanging out more lately, and she had this quiet hope that he was starting to feel comfortable around her, like he might eventually let his guard down and let her in.

As she brushed her teeth, she glanced at her phone again, a new message lighting up the screen.

She quickly pulled herself together, trying to dress warm enough for the November chill without looking like she was headed for the Arctic. She layered up—a snug thermal shirt, a thick gray sweater, her warmest jeans, and, finally, the red rubber boots she had found in the shoe closet , perfect for a day like that

As she brushed her teeth, she glanced at her phone again, a new message  lighting up the screen.

« Here. » Texted JJ.

She bundled herself into her black padded coat, the sleeves and hood lined with fleece, and reached for a beanie and scarf as she stepped out the door.

The moment she opened the door, the cold hit her like a wave. The damp, salty air clung to her cheeks, forcing her fully awake as she pulled her scarf tighter and locked the door. JJ’s car was idling at the curb, and through the foggy windows, she could make out his familiar silhouette. She walked quickly, ducking her head against the chill, and as she reached the car, he leaned over to pop the door open from the inside.

"Hey ya," he greeted her, his face lighting up with a wide grin, his eyes crinkling with that same excitement he’d felt in his messages.

"Hey," she answered, sliding into the seat and rubbing her hands together for warmth. The car smelled like coffee and saltwater, a scent she was starting to associate with him.

"Still half asleep?" he asked, chuckling as he passed her a steaming cup. "Figured you’d need a coffee."

She accepted it gratefully, wrapping her hands around the cup to soak in the warmth. "You’re a lifesaver," she mumbled, taking a sip and closing her eyes briefly to savor the taste.

JJ laughed, putting the car into gear and pulling away from her house. "You’re not regretting this yet, are you?"

"Not yet," she teased, glancing sideways at him. "But give it time. November, J? It’s freezing out there!"

"Best time for fishing," he shot back, unphased. "Besides, you’re with me. I wouldn’t let you freeze."

Her cheeks warmed in an unmistakable blush. She pressed her hands together in her lap, thankful that JJ’s focus was on finding the right radio station, his eyes darting between the road and the dial, entirely unaware of her quiet embarrassment. The quiet streets of Porto blurred past the window as they drove toward the bait shop. The early morning was thick with that peculiar, dewy stillness, the kind that seemed to draw in secrets and hold them close. Alex glanced over at JJ, watching the way his hands moved with easy familiarity over the steering wheel. The two of them in his car, sharing this quiet, unhurried moment, felt oddly significant, as if they’d entered into a new and unspoken closeness.

The bait shop was already buzzing with the muted energy of early-morning fishermen stocking up for the day. Alex followed JJ inside, where they greeted his boss, a thickly built man with a deep tan and a voice that boomed out greetings in a warm, melodic Portuguese accent. Alex could feel the shop’s earthy scent of saltwater, fish, and old wood—it felt like stepping into JJ’s world, a place where he was confident and at ease. She watched him gather everything they’d need for the day with quick, sure movements, his hands deftly selecting bait and fishing lines, checking for the smallest details. She trailed along behind him, a silent observer in this environment that felt so natural for him, yet was entirely new to her.

“Jackson!” his boss called out, his tone loud but carrying a warmth and respect that Alex hadn’t often heard. His voice wrapped around JJ’s name, giving it weight and familiarity. JJ turned immediately, straightening with a look of curiosity.

“Yes, boss?” he replied, his voice slightly more formal but still tinged with an easy humor.

“I set aside some new gear for you. It’s the best—top of the line, if you’re looking to bring in a big catch today.” His boss reached over and handed JJ a large bag filled with state-of-the-art equipment, each piece carefully selected.

JJ’s face broke into a grin as he took the bag, his eyes lighting up like he’d just been handed a rare treasure. “Damn, thanks, boss! With this stuff, I’ll bring the whole ocean!” he said, laughing. The two shared a chuckle, and Alex couldn’t help but smile too, feeling herself slip further into this tight-knit world that JJ inhabited.

“Alright then, have fun, kids,” his boss said, giving JJ a hearty clap on the back. He turned to Alex with a warm, knowing smile that made her feel welcome, as if she were now a part of this small community. Then, with a final wave, he returned to helping another customer.

JJ led her down to the dock behind the shop, where his small boat was tied up, bobbing gently with the rhythm of the water. “There she is,” he announced with pride, patting the side of the boat. “That’s the beast.”

Alex looked over the boat, its blue and white paint worn and faded in some places, revealing hints of past repair jobs. Despite its modest appearance, the boat had a kind of rugged charm that felt like an extension of JJ himself. Its little cabin looked cozy enough, just big enough to shield them from the wind if needed. It was clear that this boat had stories, perhaps quiet memories from trips before today. It struck her that JJ likely spent many hours on this boat, alone with the water, the wind, and his thoughts.

As he began loading the bait and gear, JJ extended a hand to help her step aboard. She took it, feeling the warmth and steadiness of his grip, a subtle but meaningful gesture that made her heart beat just a little faster. Once aboard, she watched him untie the boat with quick, practiced hands before hopping on himself, then moved over to the small, weathered wheel at the front.

“You ready to catch some fish?” he asked, his grin contagious, the excitement lighting up his face.

“Oh, yeah baby ! » she replied with a laugh, surprising herself with the sudden enthusiasm in her voice. JJ laughed, too, his laughter mingling with the soft splashing of the water as he started the engine.

The rising sun cast a warm glow over Porto as they moved further along the river. The city’s pastel-colored buildings began to light up, one by one, under the touch of early light. The stone bridges that stretched over the river looked beautiful in this soft dawn light, casting reflections onto the rippling water below. Alex let her gaze wander over the city, watching the morning unfold in peaceful beauty. But as much as she admired Porto, her gaze kept drifting back to JJ. He was focused on steering, his eyes reflecting a quiet confidence, his hands steady on the wheel. It struck her just how at home he seemed here, surrounded by the quiet rhythm of the river.

There was something magnetic about JJ in this moment—an unspoken ruggedness, a simplicity she found both intriguing and mysterious that she has never seen in someone else before. She’d known him as the friendly bait-shop worker. But here, on his boat, he seemed different. There was a sense of freedom about him, a glimpse of something deeper, It was as though he belonged to this place more than she’d ever realized, as if he were a part of the landscape itself—solid, steady, enduring. As if he could leave the worries and the weight of his past behind with each passing wave.

Every now and then, she would glance over at JJ, wondering what was going through his mind as he guided them along the water. He’d once mentioned that he’d come to Porto looking for a new start, but she never pressed for details. She hoped that maybe today, but out here, with only the water and sky as witnesses, she might get to hear a little more of his story. As they drifted farther from the city, the river opened up, and the world around them grew quieter. Alex felt a peace settle over her, a rare calm that only seemed to exist out here on the water.

The sky was painted in pastel hues, the colors reflected in the rippling surface of the Douro. She glanced over at JJ, whose eyes were fixed on the horizon, and she wondered what thoughts were running through his mind. Did this quiet expanse of water and sky give him the peace he seemed to be searching for?

As they arrived at the fishing spot, the boat slowed to a gentle stop, drifting into a calm pocket of ocean surrounded by miles of quiet blue. The morning light reflected on the water’s surface, casting dappled sun spots that glinted with each gentle ripple. JJ moved with purpose, unloading the fishing gear from the bags and setting it on the deck. He began with the nets, his hands moving with steady precision as he laid them out, unfolding them carefully and securing each section.

“Alright, let’s start with the nets,” JJ said, his tone focused but with a hint of a smile as he glanced over at Alex. “I’ll show you how to set the first one up, and then you’ll do the second.”

Alex nodded, watching him with full attention, noting the way his hands moved confidently as he untangled the lines and secured them along the boat’s edge. There was a quiet assurance in his movements that made it look so easy, and she tried to commit each step to memory, determined to get it right when it was her turn. As JJ finished casting the first net, he gave her a nod, signaling for her to take over. Alex reached out, a bit nervous but excited, carefully mimicking his actions. JJ watched her with a small smile, offering a pointer here and there until, finally, she had the net set just as he’d shown her.

“Not bad at all,” JJ remarked, a hint of pride in his voice as he leaned back. Alex felt a surge of satisfaction as she looked at the net stretching out beside the boat.

With the nets in place and the ocean calm, JJ went over to grab a fishing rod. “Alright, now for the fun part,” he said with a glint of excitement in his eyes. He held up the rod and motioned her to come closer. “Kneel down here, and I’ll show you how to set up your line.”

Alex settled beside him, her eyes fixed on his hands as he unrolled a length of line, his movements methodical and calm. “You’ll want to unroll the line to about 30 centimeters shorter than the rod,” he explained, glancing at her to make sure she was following. “That’s so there’s a bit of give, but not too much slack.” He tied a quick knot and held it up, loosening it just enough so she could try it herself.

“Now you try,” he said, his gaze warm and encouraging.

Taking a deep breath, Alex took the line, trying to copy his steps. She could feel his eyes on her, steady and patient, as she fumbled with the knot. Five times in a row, she tried to replicate his actions, her fingers not quite managing the simple motion. JJ chuckled lightly, though his tone remained reassuring. “You’re close—just a bit tighter with your left hand,” he said, guiding her with a gentle nudge. Finally, on her sixth attempt, the knot held, and she looked up at him, triumphant.

“There you go!” he exclaimed, his face breaking into a proud smile. He held his hand up for a high-five, and she grinned as she met it with a satisfying slap.

They moved on to setting up the trolling rods. JJ showed her how to fit them into the fasteners on the side of the boat, explaining how they would trail bait behind them as they moved. “It’s called trolling,” he explained, “and it’s a bit easier since we let the rods do most of the work.” This part was simpler, and she quickly secured the rods, feeling more at ease as JJ guided her with a calm assurance.

Once everything was set, JJ held up a thick fishing belt. “You’ll need to wear this,” he said, his voice a little softer as he looked at her.

He stepped closer, holding the belt out in front of her. “Mind if I help?”

She nodded, feeling her heart quicken as he wrapped the belt around her waist, his hands firm but gentle as he tightened it just enough. His hands lingered for a moment, adjusting the belt, and she could feel the warmth of his touch through the fabric. She tried to keep her breathing steady, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slight blush creeping into her cheeks. “It needs to be tight enough for support,” he explained, “but not so tight you can’t breathe. Comfortable?”

She swallowed and nodded. “Perfect.”

He gave her a small nod of approval, and then moved behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders as he guided her to the edge of the boat. She could feel the weight of his touch, grounding her as she looked out at the wide expanse of the ocean in front of them.

“Alright,” he murmured, positioning her feet firmly on the deck. He handed her the rod, moving close behind her, his chest brushing against her back as he leaned in, his hands covering hers on the rod. “Now, hold your hands a bit higher,” he instructed, adjusting her grip. She could feel his breath against her ear, warm and steady, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“Swing it to the left, like this,” he demonstrated, his voice soft and calm. She followed his lead, her movements guided by his hands, each step precise and smooth. “And when you’re ready, cast it out.” His hands moved hers in one fluid motion, and the line arced out gracefully over the water.

He stayed close, his hands still over hers as he showed her how to reel. “If you feel a bite, lift the rod and reel quickly, like this,” he murmured, his fingers grazing hers as he demonstrated the motion. She nodded, completely absorbed, her senses heightened by his proximity. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin, the steadiness of his hands, and she had to focus to keep her hands steady, savoring the quiet closeness between them.

The day passed in a rhythm of easy laughter, stories, and a few triumphant catches. By late afternoon, they’d settled into a comfortable silence, the sun dipping lower in the sky as they each held a beer, the cold bottles refreshing after the warmth of the sun. They toasted, the soft clink of glass mingling with the distant sound of waves.

JJ took a long sip of his beer, his eyes thoughtful as he gazed out over the horizon, the fading light casting a golden glow over his face. For a moment, he seemed lost in his own thoughts, his expression softening. Finally, he turned to her, his eyes warm but serious.

«You’re good company, » JJ said  casually, breaking a moment of silence.

Alex turned to him, surprised. « So are you. »

He smiled, his gaze lingering on her a little longer than usual, his usual confident expression softened. “I mean it. I don’t do this with just anyone.”

There was a rare honesty in his tone that caught her off guard, a glimpse of a vulnerability he usually kept tightly locked away. His eyes held hers with a quiet intensity, and she felt the sincerity of his words resonate deep within her.

“You’re… easy to be around,” he continued, his voice quieter, almost as if he was talking to himself as much as to her. “I don’t feel like I have to try so hard with you.”

His gaze drifted between her eyes and her lips, lingering just a fraction too long, and she felt her heartbeat quicken, each word from him settling between them in the silent understanding they seemed to share. She sensed that he wasn’t used to expressing this side of himself, and it made her want to reach out, to show him he didn’t have to keep his guard up.

She took a breath, steadying herself, then met his gaze with a soft but unwavering look. “I don’t know what happened to you,” she began, her voice low and filled with compassion. “I don’t know who hurt you so deeply that you feel like you have to keep everyone at a distance.” She saw a flicker of pain cross his face, but he didn’t look away, holding her gaze as if he was searching for something in her eyes. “But I want you to know,” she continued, her voice growing softer, “that when you’re ready to let someone in, I’ll be here. I’ll listen. I want to help, even if it’s just to make you feel a little better.”

His eyes glistened as she spoke, a trace of raw emotion shining through. He blinked, his lashes damp, and she could see him struggling to keep his composure. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words were caught somewhere between his heart and his lips.

“Just… wanted you to know you can trust me,” she whispered.

JJ took a breath, his jaw tight, his eyes searching hers as if trying to determine if he could let himself believe her.

 “Trust me, Al,” he replied, his voice barely above a murmur. His face leaned closer, close enough that she could see the flecks of gray swimming in the ocean blue of his eyes, every detail of his gaze drawing her in. “I really want to.” He hesitated, his lips almost brushing hers as he added, “I just… can’t right now.”

They hovered there for a moment, on the edge of something unspoken, each aware of the thin line between them and the weight of everything they were holding back. But just as he was about to say something more, the sky opened up with a sudden, heavy downpour, the rain catching them off guard and breaking the moment in an instant.

“Oh, hell!” JJ exclaimed, glancing up at the dark clouds that had crept in unnoticed. The rain poured down, soaking them both within seconds, the heavy drops leaving trails down their faces. He looked over at her, water dripping from his hair, and saw her laughing, her head tilted back with an unrestrained, joyful sound.

She grinned at him, her eyes shining. “Told you fishing in November was risky!” she laughed, her voice almost drowned out by the pounding of the rain.

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes but smiling despite himself. He gave her a playful nudge before glancing toward the cabin. “Get in there,” he urged. “Last thing I need is for you to slip and fall overboard.” His tone was light, but his hand on her shoulder was gentle, almost protective.

She nodded, ducking into the small cabin, and watched as he stayed on deck, quickly securing the rods and nets, his movements brisk as he fought against the wind and rain. After a few minutes, he finally joined her in the cabin, soaked to the bone, water dripping from his clothes and hair as he ran a hand over his face.

“Well,” he said with a wry smile, “I think that’s our sign to head back.” He looked over at her, and despite the storm, there was an unmistakable spark in his eyes, a shared sense of adventure lingering between them.

Alex’s eyes lit up with a sudden idea. “Can I drive us back?” she asked, half-joking but also eager. “I know you’re the captain, but I’ve been telling you I know how to drive a boat.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes as he handed her the controls. “Alright, then,” he said, stepping aside. “Just know I’m standing right behind you in case things get rough.”

She took the wheel, feeling his hands guide hers briefly to adjust her grip as the boat began to move. She felt his steady presence behind her, his hands occasionally brushing hers to offer a nudge or steer them back on course. It felt exhilarating to be in control, with the rain still beating down and the waves choppy beneath them, but knowing he was there, guiding her, watching over her, brought a sense of calm.

They navigated back toward the shore in comfortable silence, their shared laughter and quiet moments echoing in the rhythm of the boat’s movement, each aware that today had brought them closer in ways words couldn’t quite capture. Finally, as they reached the docks and the rain began to lighten, she could feel his gaze on her once more, and she knew that this day would be one they would both hold onto for a long time.

Once they arrived back at the docks, JJ secured the boat, moving with practiced ease despite the rain that had softened but still pattered steadily around them. The world beyond the little boat felt distant, the rain creating a hazy curtain that made everything look blurred and dreamlike. He stepped back into the cabin, water dripping from his hair as he looked at Alex with a half-smile.

"Well," he said, his voice low and steady, "let’s stay here for a while. No point getting drenched running out now."

Alex nodded, her body shaking a little from the cold. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to bring back some warmth. JJ noticed her shivering and reached for an old blanket tucked away in a corner. The fabric was thick, a little scratchy, but comforting. He held it out, his gaze lingering on her for a moment as she gratefully pulled it around her shoulders, the warmth spreading through her.

Without a word, he took another beer from the cooler he’d brought along and sat down beside her on the narrow bench, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. Alex shifted the blanket, offering him a corner so they could share it.

He glanced at the blanket, smiling softly as he adjusted it to make sure she was completely wrapped up. "I’m fine," he murmured, his voice gentle, barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder would disturb the quiet that had settled over them. The care in his voice made her heart swell, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

They sat quietly for a few minutes, listening to the rhythmic patter of rain against the cabin roof. The air between them felt charged, filled with something unspoken yet profoundly comforting. Every so often, Alex could feel his arm brush against hers, each accidental touch sending a tiny thrill through her, grounding her in this shared moment.

A fresh downpour suddenly came down in waves, pounding against the boat with renewed vigor. The rain grew louder, almost drowning out the steady sound of their breathing, and Alex chuckled in disbelief, looking over at him.

“Oh my god, it’s starting again!” she said, softly.

JJ shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. “Looks like we’re officially stuck for a while.” He set his beer down on the small table beside him and leaned back, shifting slightly as he looked at her, his gaze softer than she’d ever seen it. He let out a long, slow breath, as if he were finally allowing himself to relax completely. Without a word, he leaned over and rested his head gently on her shoulder, closing his eyes.

“I think I’ll take a nap right here,” he said, his voice barely audible as he crossed his arms over his chest and settled into her shoulder. Alex could feel his weight against her, solid and reassuring, his closeness making her heart beat faster.

For a moment, she sat still, hardly daring to breathe, afraid she might disturb him. The warmth of his head on her shoulder, the light tickle of his hair brushing against her neck, and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing filled her with an unfamiliar calm. She dared to relax a little, leaning into him just enough that she could feel his presence fully, her cheek lightly brushing the top of his head.

Outside, the rain continued its relentless pour, creating a comforting cocoon of sound around them. The world outside was lost to the storm, and it felt as though they were the only two people in existence, hidden away in this little cabin, away from everything that had once kept them guarded and apart. She could feel his breath, warm and steady, against her shoulder, and she found herself slowly exhaling, letting the tension ease from her body.

She felt her fingers twitch as she resisted the urge to reach over and brush his hair away from his face. His vulnerability, so rarely shown, was on full display, and it stirred something deep inside her—a desire to protect him, to give him the space to just be, without any expectations.

Minutes passed in silence, each of them wrapped in their own thoughts but connected in a way neither had fully acknowledged. She listened to the rain, each drop blending into a soft lullaby, and soon found herself drifting, her eyes growing heavy, lulled by the steady warmth of JJ beside her.

[1moreff-creator]

May I request opinions on Ace and J as friends? 👉🏻👈🏻

Sure! These two sound like a pretty fun duo, so why not talk about them! :D As always, this will be non-despair AU, since a killing game friendship between these two… let’s say it doesn’t seem likely to happen any time soon :v

Although it’s pretty hard to imagine how this would happen even outside the killing game lol. J pretty explicitly dislikes really loud people, and Ace in particular is pretty hard to befriend, so it would certainly take some work to get the two together as friends. It would probably have to be through a mutual friend, like Teruko or Mai maybe. 

So… yeah, that! Mai was friends with both of them, so they occasionally got dragged into the same activities. And since Mai “doesn’t like it when her friends fight,” and no one wants to upset Mai, J and Ace make an effort to tolerate each other around her. And when they do that, they find out… “hey, he/she’s not that bad!”

They’re still very volatile when they’re by themselves, and are probably another case of “hard to tell if they’re friends or hate each other at first glance” like I described with Teruko. It’s mainly J making fun of Ace for something, him shouting something back, and either J rolling her eyes at his silliness, or getting embarrassed if he makes fun of her. Though it’s best to have someone around to de-escalate in case feelings are in danger of actually being hurt. 

At least at first. Give them a few months and neither will take the other’s insults seriously. 

I could see J being a pretty busy person outside of the killing game, but since Ace doesn’t train for his talent, he often goes to wherever J’s working to screw around with her. J, naturally, tends to order him to “make himself useful” and carry around any heavy equipment she needs help with. Ace always complains, but deep down, he actually enjoys helping her. Makes him feel useful. 

On the other hand, J doesn’t usually go to Ace’s horse races (“why the fuck would I go, you’re gonna win anyways”), but when she does go, she always congratulates him on his sure-win, and only half-sarcastically! Also, she helps him calm down after the traumatizing experience each race is, and makes sure no one bothers him until he’s recomposed. As you’d expect, the communication after that is…

Ace [genuinely touched she helped]: Thanks… or something I guess. J [blushing and caring a lot]: Whatever, it’s no big deal, don’t get a big head about it, I don’t care.  Ace: Why would I get a big head about this, asshole?! Because the oh so high and mighty J Moreno [he doesn’t use Rosales at J’s request] deigned to step off her throne and defend this lowly, pathetic peasant?! J: F-Fuck you!

… stunted. Anyways, it works, somehow. Probably Mai gets them to have some more genuine conversations at some point or another.

On the topic of defending each other; while J can certainly stand up for herself when it comes to the creeps that come with fame (like Arturo), Ace is always ready to serve as backup if she needs it… For the two seconds it takes the creep to turn to him, because Ace is prone to hiding behind J if things get dicey. Well, you can’t say he doesn’t try. 

That’s for one on one’s, but Ace probably gravitates towards J in more class-wide activities as well. Mainly because making friends doesn’t come easy to the guy, and any friend he does have is probably a mutual friend with J. That can lead to an insane pair-up if J gravitates to Arei, and Arei to Eden. The poor Clockmaker’s gonna work overtime to make sure the J-Arei-Ace trio don’t verbally obliterate anyone they land eyes on, free my girl T_T

Anyways, for the fun of it, here's a small pieces of dialogue I feel could happen, including a bit of Jarei for the soul:

Ace [talking about a crush of his]: Fuck, do you think he actually likes me? J [Dead serious]: …Ace, I am going to give you the best advice I possibly can. Ace: Yeah? J: *Deep breath* J: The Ultimate Matchmaker is down the fucking hall. What in the fuck made you think it’d be better to ask me instead of him? Arei: Yeah, seriously. She’s hopeless when it comes to this shit! J: Hey! I’m not that bad! Arei: I had to threaten to put you in maid dresses fifteen times before you picked up the hint! Yes 👏you👏are👏. Ace: Ah, shit, [crush]’s only threatened to put me in a maid dress fourteen times, do you think I should wait for him to do it again before I do something about this? J and Arei: ??????

Well, I hope that was enough for you! Thanks for the ask, always love receiving them!

[jasminedragonart]

Oh okay so I'm actually getting some genuine interest in this post.

I actually did a course on publishing when I was at uni, the process to actually make a book is actually really easy. Doing it alone might seem daunting, especially if you're planning on making more than one copy but it's possible.

I'm going to put the process here which I'm using to make my own book. By that I mean with my atla comic, my goal is, once I reach the end of book 1 I'm going to make myself a physical copy with my own hands.

First, you need an idea. Sounds simple but it's actually the hardest part of the publishing process. My advice: get it down, make it messy, do it fast.

Second, if you're doing this on your own, you're gonna want to take a day or two and not look at it at all. You want to wipe it from your mind and not even think about it until we get to the next step of our journey.

If you aren't doing this on your own youre going to send your draft to your beta. You're going to get that second opinion and listen to every disgusting plot hole and problem until you want to cry. If you are doing this on your own you will also be doing this step but you are the beta. Your fresh eyes will tear that project apart.

Third, redraft. This is where things get good. You have a skeleton of a fic at this stage, what you're going to do now is add meat and blood and skin until you're just as in love with this draft as you were the first.

Fourth, repeat the second step.

Fifth, take a break. Take a long break and then read over your second draft again, you're going to find a lot more wrong with it now than you did before. It shouldn't be as bad as the first purge but you should be able to fine tune your draft.

You're going to do and repeat this until youre happy with your draft and your beta is too.

This is where we go to our next stage.

Sixth, the proofreader and editor. If this is you, print your work out, it's a lot easier to find mistakes when you have a physical copy. You're fine combing it now. You're finding little mistakes, little grammatical errors and words that don't sit right. You're going to send this out into the world so be happy with what you've produced, dont leave anything to chance. Even if you have to get your parents or siblings or friends to read your work just do it. A new pair of eyes spot things you don't even think about.

Seventh, if you're finally happy with your work you're going to start the publishing process. If this is an Amazon book I can't help you since I'm going to be printing and creating at home but there are a lot of sites out there and youtubers that can help you with that.

If you're doing this at home you're going to typeset your work. You're going to adjust the margins, the paragraph space, font and size until they're the typeset you're wanting. Since mine is a comic I will be making sure the margins leave a big white space near the centre so the art isn't lost in the spine. There are pages out there debating the best typeset to use depending on your book so it's entirely up to you really. For example young adult books have larger fonts than adult books.

Eight, after this you need to either, manually, or with a pdf app put your book in printing order. This is where you need to know about how books are actually made. Books are made up of signatures which are three or four pages folded together. This means the pages go 1 on the right, 2 on the opposite side to the left, 3 goes onto page 2 and 4 on the opposite side to the left. It goes on like that and it's not impossible to do it manually but it does require a bit of thinking.

Nine. Once youve put it in printing order you need to print and make those signatures.

Ten, you sew those signatures together. There's a tutorial on YouTube on how to do this and, again, there are variations and it comes down to taste, a lot of stuff after this is taste. You can add a bookmark at this point as well as binding around the top. Make sure you glue your spine.

After that you need cardboard and book cloth and a tutorial on YouTube because, again, it's personal taste but at this point it's not impossible, you've almost done it and books don't have to be expensive to make no matter what some people say. Make it how you want to make it. Research book covers and bookbinders because they will tell you how to make the most amazing book ever.

I'm sorry I don't have a more informative tutorial. I will definitely post my process when I'm making the physical book but that's going to be a while from now. Some people to look into for cool books are Nerdforge and Seallemom. These are the people I watched on YouTube to learn how to make a book. When I was in uni we used Amazon books to make our own. But I hate how those ones came out, physically, not people work since they were great, and the book itself was a collaborative effort so when I make my own I want it to be my own.

With that in mind, so many people on Tumblr know how to bind a book, they love to read and have a keener eye than some professional proofreaders. I literally don't know how a bunch of us haven't got together and made our own publishing company by now.

genuinely wondering how some people on here haven't started their own publishing company. It's not like we don't have the skills. The amount of bookbinders, proofreaders and artists on here could rule the publishing world if they had the right motivation.

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts Re:coded - Finish Commands - Spinner Ray

[pepprs]

ok. im going to make this post but i REALLY shouldn’t but i just am so devastated rn and need to not be alone in it and you guys are the only people i can talk to candidly about moving stuff rn for a lot of reasons. the reason im crying rn is because i just found out i made a massive error in my budget and it turns out that my net pay is barely over minimum wage and i cannot afford to live by myself. at all. unless i live off of savings in addition to income but even then that’s only going to help me for a couple months and anyway it’s extremely unwise bc i should save that money for getting a car etc etc. this is not entirely a bad thing because a) at least i can afford to… you know… live. and b) living with roommates will not be bad especially if i live with friends and/or strangers i come to be friends with. it’s just i really… i don’t know i just feel so sick to my stomach. it’s just that recent events have made it so clear to me that i need to teach myself how to live independently before i can live with other people (let alone function in the world, heal from trauma, etc.) healthily. i know it so deeply. and it can’t happen for me. this is confirmation. this is confirmation and there’s nothing that can change it. rent is too high (even for shitty apartments in the area which let’s be real most of them are… it’s too high!) and over half of my income is going to taxes and deductions and bills and student loans. i feel so hopeless

[wizardingsouls]

there's a ghost of a smile from sirius. a real smile. he would take that any day, every chance he could. even though its fleeting, it's something. it's still progress in the right direction. " i know i don't have to. " rather he knows he isn't obligated in any legal or technical sense, but he isn't so sure he could step back without being very firmly told off first. james was working on fully learning that particular lesson, slowly.

he hovers uncertainly while sirius orients himself, ready to catch the other if need be. any point of being okay remains a long way off, but padfoot genuinely already looked better than when they had first brought him home. sirius had been practically skeletal when he already had been the skinniest of them. colorless. remus and james had worked hard to get him to this point, helped by harry's presence, and james has to remind himself they can't rush anything without risking hurting sirius first. sirius hurt more than enough.

moony. okay, that was doable; if remus got irked about it, james would make sure to take the blame but he doubts it will be an issue. it twinges at him a little to not be the one chosen, but understands why it might not be the best idea...and remus did have the best taste in comfy jumpers. " mad? what? no, of course not, " he promises easily, habit driving a steadying touch to the shoulder as sirius sits, as he leans against the edge of the counter. " we didn't want to make you feel cornered. " or for harry to get caught in their crossfire, though he doesn't add that part. " right: dittany first, and then cleaning up, " he murmurs half to himself to keep somewhat on track. a vial summoned, clean cloth set beside the sink, and he's keeping note to maintain some kind of contact to hopefully keep sirius a little more grounded. they can do this.

" he's probably going to keep harry company for a while, to give us time, okay? if nothing else we'll all see each other again in the morning, " james clarifies as he takes sirius's hand in his to hold still for applying the dittany. lucky it doesn't take much of the stuff to work, and relatively painless, but james still finds himself soothing his thumb over newly healed skin too. just to be absolutely sure that he doesn't miss anything. only when he turns to put the vial away and start the faucet does james catch a glimpse of what he looks like, startled by stark smears of red. shit, he hadn't even considered that, too busy taking in the touches before and more occupied with keeping sirius's face cleared of mess.

" shit, pads, i'm sorry. i-- hold on. " the apology is immediate, words stumbled out over dampening the cloth and wiping the streaks away. it wasn't a lot, the actual injury having not been too large or deep, but enough to be painfully noticeable. he's in enough rush to scrub overly-harsh at his cheek and neck to leave pink marks behind, skin prickling at the cool water. there's nothing to be done for the shirt until he can get it washed, which was fine, but he wasn't going to sit there and purposely look a mess when sirius was already struggling to keep hold of the lucid moment. " i know you don't like cold water much, but that doesn't mean i'm a fan of it either, " he belatedly thinks to tease once the flicker of panic is gone, shaken off when his reflection said he was fine again. the little left on his hands is even easier to remove with the rinsing of the cloth now that the water had time to warm. not the most ideal in avoiding staining perhaps, but he didn't think the shock of cold would do any good.

he has to remind himself to take a slow breath again by the time he's ready to take sirius's hand in his again, far gentler removing the smears on the other than he had been on himself. a quieter task to focus on than before, but if he could stay steady then sirius could hold on. one thing at a time, inching themselves closer to being through the night. tomorrow could be worried about when they got to it. " ...i really am sorry, sirius. that i didn't ask first, " james says softly as he inspects for any spots left before moving onto the other hand, mulling over how immediate he'd been in kissing the other earlier. how quickly missing sirius and being constantly touching and kissing whenever they wanted had overrun his knowing better than not to. " promise you'll tell me if i do it again, or if you aren't sure, so i can stop. " so he can avoid making sirius crash again. prevent injuries and tears, with any luck. he'll love on sirius in any way he's allowed to, as often as he can, but he did not want the price to be the other's shredded peace.

" not all bad. i've been getting to hold you, " james points out with an easy smile, though it doesn't last long against the other's increasing upset or sirius pulling away from him. he scarcely gets out a sound of protest before padfoot is righting himself from the floor, and james loathes that he has to take a minute to steel himself before he can stand too. " what helps is getting to take care of you. " it's more dismissive of his own state than he probably should be, but he'd live. he had so far, after all.

and now that they are standing, he can definitely feel how much he'd been pushing at the limits, nearing what would have been a lot of pain later if he hadn't moved already. but sirius didn't need to know that.

" let's get some dittany and clean your hands up, okay? i can walk it off, " he promises softly, careful to lean slightly less of his weight on the weak side. it'd just be embarrassing to collapse now, after insisting upon being fine. " and then we can dig out a jumper for you to borrow. mine or moony's, whichever you want. " he's hoping the directives being soft are good enough to get sirius to follow his lead without resisting, trying to coax without just dragging sirius along.

[brittlebutch]

actually, having a kind of revelatory moment here of if HRT was something i have been considering for this long, but has remained inaccessible to me, then that means i Do actually have opinions about my appearance/presentation, so just because i can't take That Particular step doesn't mean that there aren't plenty of other avenues i could be pursuing (ie, clothing/accessories/etc.) that i just haven't let myself up until this point. like i don't have to shove it All aside just because there's one thing i can't get -- I'd probably still wind up a lot happier if I took those other steps I've spent all these years ignoring