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lorelune · 19 days

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(continuation of this piece. part ii of regency au with jing yuan)

"he needs to stop doing this."

you tell lord luocha this as you stumble out of your one room cottage, desperately attempting to smooth down your day gown. your palms shake as you do and you shoot your patron an angry look.

lord luocha looks perfectly passive, painfully neutral with a hint of mirth. the bastard. "i think it's quite appropriate for the general to call upon you this hour of the day. i thought you would be prepared."

"i am not an 'eligible lady' as i am so often reminded," you shake your head. "i cannot constantly be ready to take his company, just because it's before supper. be reasonable, my lord. speak with him about this."

"perhaps," luocha tilts his head with the barest hint of a smile. "i'll consider it. for now, why don't you go greet our guest? i'll have some refreshments sent in."

"fine." you say. your voice wavers.

this is not the first time the retired general, Jing Yuan, has called upon you. it's more like the fifth. maybe sixth. it is more frightening to keep count of his increasingly frequently visits (as they clearly indicate some type of explicit interest), so you stopped counting them recently. peace of mind and all.

you enter the drawing with and bow to the general without thinking, "good afternoon, general."

"likewise," he says easily, voice so deep and rich; it makes your insides feel wobbly.

jing yuan sits on one of the loveseats, legs tastefully spread and in some amount of regalia. well-dressed, certainly. his hair is half-tied up as he so favors, and his face has a healthy amount of blush. a crisp jaw. bulging forearms and thighs beneath his various dressings. a broad chest. it is hard not to ogle him overtly. you train your gaze on the hand-tufted rug before rising and daintily (as you can) sit across from him on the other side of the loveseat. you tuck your legs to the side, barely remembering to not fully fold them under yourself. decorum and all.

(it feels foolish. jing yuan hardly seem to care. lord luocha thinks your bumbling is amusing.)

"i apologize for the intrusion," he says. he squeezes his hands into loose fists. you don't miss the action. "will you indulge me for a time?"

"i'm already here, aren't i?" you quip back, tone light. easy. "i don't mind the company."

there's more you could say—

("general, i think you are so very kind and thoughtful. thank you for spending your spare time with me.")

("general, i am sorry i can't attend any of the balls and festivities as anything more than a performer. i would not mind being on your arm, if circumstances were different, and you desired it so".)

("general, how much longer will you entertain this? are you intending to steal my heart, only to break it?"

instead, you remain quiet, picking at your nailbeds. jing yuan watches you with a hum. flexes his hands.

"are you working on any new pieces?" he asks.

"a few, actually." you reply. "the muses have been kind to me."

"oh?" he smiles. he tilts his head cutely, almost boyish, despite his age. "may i ask the subject matter?"

"ah—" you feel your face heat. "a number of things. subject matters. a varying themes."

truthfully, you have started four new paintings in the last week. all of which were started in moments of such deep inspirations, they had you painting and laying base colors from sunrise until sunset. it just so happens that these... works have. a clear theme. that of the general.

(during his second visit, he commented on the blooming azaleas. you've been obsessed with perfecting the shape of their petals. his third visit, you sat on the same seat as him. you were so much closer then, and found yourself lost in the honey color of his eyes. the punch of purple underneath them, an accumulation of sleepless nights. another is of a lion, like that of his crest. the final is a portrait of him that has you committing every bit of him to memory. perhaps you'll be able to capture his likeness with your memory if the muses continue to favor you.)

"you're quite the varied artist." he leans his jaw on his fist. "your dedication to your craft is most admirable."

"i cannot help the ways in which inspiration forces me to act," or, to thirst over the man in front of you. god forbid a parched man be given drink so fine. you shake your head. "i have had... some amount of increased, enjoyable, new interactions over the past while. i suppose i'm feeling invigored."

"oh?" jing yuan looks smitten. his eyes go half-lidded. "may i guess the source of your inspiration?"

"if you do, you'll only embarrass me."

"so, you think i will be right in my guess then?"

"i know so." you roll your eyes, sheepish. "i am not foolish enough to think i could hide face and play games with the Divine Foresight and win."

"you underestimate yourself."

"hardly. have you... met yourself, general?"

"often, frequently." he nods to himself. he catches your gaze. it's piercing. "i find myself in the mirror, often, these days. i tell myself that i am spry enough and have retained enough charm through my years to properly court and woo the recluse, genius artist i have been stealing time from. i meet the man in my mirror and think that he is quite clever, but tends to underestimate you as well."

your breath is caught in your chest. you scrunch the skirt of your dress up in your palms and swallow.

"the general speaks freely and foolishly."

"and yet, i do not lie."

"... you are brazen."

"do you not require such treatment?" jing yuan laughs sweetly. "if i were any more gentle with you, you would've already retreated far into your lord's gardens. i wouldn't hope to see you again. you will need to forgive me for my shamelessness."

"... i could perhaps be convinced." you scoot closer on the love seat. you should. create space away from him. before you do something stupid and unbecoming. but you find yourself drawn closer. "the general is a kind man. good-hearted."

"such a charitable assessment."

"i know it to be true." you do know. the man keeps his own gardens, tends them himself. he pays his servants good wages and left war and bloodshed behind sometime ago. "i would like to get to know his good heart more."

jing yuan steels himself then. you watch it happen. his spine straightens, his throat bobs. sweat beads at his temples, you now notice. his keeps his hands in his lap, wringing them together.

"then we are in agreement?"

"... only if the general treats me well." you stumble over your words. "only if you treat me well, general."

"jing yuan, please."

"fine. jing yuan, then." it takes everything in you not to reach for his hands. your last threads of civility barely remaining. "will you treat me well, jing yuan?"

he breathes. you feel the warm exhale of it fan over your cheeks. your gaze drops to the softness of his bottom lip.

"only the best, for you."

"so, you're smitten with me?"

"simply struck." he gulps. you need him, you decide, decorum be damned. you lean forward, just as he does. you can hear the tremor of your breath in time with his—

the door the drawing room opens, suddenly, with a resounding thud. you jump away from the general, a hand over your heart. you attempt to not noticeably pant, though you perhaps fail. lord luocha raises a knowing eyebrow as a few of his staff bring in a platter of a small treats and bubbly drinks in fluted glasses.

"forgive the intrusion," luocha places a hand on jing yuan's shoulder. the general straightens up. "i figured that you two must be in need some of refreshments. may i suggest a walk in the garden, later? perhaps, you could show him your herb patches, [name]."

lord luocha shoots you a knowing look.

(said patch of herbs is just outside of your cottage. a good distance away from the main estate.)

"i'd love to." you swallow and shake your head. "if the general will deign to spend a bit more time with me."

jing yuan looks at you, really looks at you, and smiles. it is an honest, genuine thing. you are glad luocha is at his back, so only you can see the earnest of it. it is something special, you think, just for you.

"as much as you will allow me."

and you will give him as much as you can muster.

#lore writes #drabbles #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr x reader #i told y'all he haunts me #you're both so smitten with each other so beloved so DEAAAR #jy regency au

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mrsnancywheeler · 1 month

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Hi hi hi ok ok so like, ive been obsessed eoth Phoebe Bridgers recently while writing my own song and stuff since i get to write a report on like a bunch of different artists for college and im including her in it.

But what i cane to say is that Billy and muse FULLY remind me of Moon Song.

More specifically the lines

"You couldn't have. You Couldn't have. Stuck your tongue down the throat of somebody. Who loves you more. So i'll wait for the next time you want me. Like a dog with a bird in its mouth"

Like i dont know of it makes sense?? But like it just reminds me of them because of the fact that like this part of the song is practically talking about the denial of the idea of someone wanting another. Like, the relationship is unsteady and theres always that chance that someone else will come along (in this case other groupies) who would take away that attention or love or what ever it is. And then the dog analogy too?? Because the verse ends with a 'mm' to replicate the sound of a dogs whimper and begging to just get loved by another. Like the dog is a sign of trying to stay loyal, trying to stay devoted even going as far as bringing back a token to win what was had before back into their life (the bird).

AND AND THEN THERES THE LINES OF

"But now I am dreaming. And your singing at my birthday. And ive never seen you smile so big"

Like she's litterally trying to imagine things where better than they are. But in relation to Billy and muse, i fully interpret this line as muse's naivety at the very VERY beginning of it all and before that cycle starts back up. Like she's imagining things will be okay, things will work out and that it was 'just this once' or something like that.

But then theres also the line:

"But you're holding me like water in your hands"

Basically aluding to the fact that every time Bully has betrayed muses trust, it causes that break to happen and for her to fall apart all over again, just like water would when someone tries to hold it, it falls through the cracks and pours out of the palms.

Im probably like thinking wayyy too much into this but like I just wanted to share my thoughts haha. Also love your writing, like i cant express how many nights ive soent just re reading and re reading because my god it is so good. Anyways bye byeee

YES THIS IS SO REAL (again I'm humbly asking for forgiveness for taking so long 🥺)

muse knows very quickly that there will always be other girls, groupies, that he'll use to make him feel like he's not tied down, that he hasn't shared his feelings with someone, his love. and she's desperate for him not too, to put it behind her when he shows any morsel of wanting him. and whenever things have been good and she can slowly see him falling into old habits after saying something he feels is to revealing, too commiting, she's desperate for him not too. she gets clingier, tries to praise him more, offer him more sexual favors, anything to try and stop him. but one, her trying so hard shows she cares which reminds billy why he loves her and he doesn't want to think about that, two she's not letting him detach easily which makes it an annoyance, and three it's easier to snap than to admit wrongdoing. muse really does remind me of a puppy dog, coming around with big puppy dog eyes, snuggling up begging to be pet, whimpering for attention, any bone thrown she'll fetch and bring back.

muse totally convinces herself the first few times that it was just once, well a couple missteps, but it'll be alright. there's a whole future of good things, right? and he feeds enough into the illusion that the picture is almost complete before he starts to tear the photo up.

yes, yes, yes, eventually the water will slip through every crack possible, leaving only droplets also searching for escape, it might not happen quickly, but he provides the cracks and even if she's desperate to stay, each meltdown brings her closer to emptying his hands.

i love it when y'all think into it, it's so beautiful to have a community to overanalyze things with the silly little characters I've created in these universes, and I love it 💋 thank you so much for sharing, and that's literally the highest compliment. stuff like that keeps me writing because I'm so glad you can find enjoyment in it and re read and re read, I'm glad to share my thoughts and for them not to just be mine. bye!! ❤️

#wanda 💋#billy dunne #billy dunne x reader #djats x reader #anon

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raphaelapproves · 5 months

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After years and years in the roleplay community, I'll be frank: My female muses are not just here for shipping, anymore than my male muses are. Several of the muses I write here, I will not, in fact, ship at all. [ On that topic: Raphael is one who is completely exclusive to my friend on discord and @hopeteased because they are old friends and we have plotted extensively. I have no problems with unrequited and Raphael will absolutely be the Most Charming to get what he wants, but that isn't romance from any muses who are not those two specific takes on Haarlep. For that matter, chances are, if we're not friends or at least chatting a fair amount, none of my muses will be shippable, because what makes me invest in a ship is really digging into the characters with the other writer, seeing how they met, what their interactions might be, how knowing each other and caring for each other affects them. I like to explore the character development side of things and get an idea of them before I ever fully commit to a ship. What's more, I want to be comfortable talking with the other writer before running a ship with them because, ideally, you won't want to invest in something like that with someone you either can't get along with or who isn't as invested in the thing as you are. ] Furthermore, though, I also have a certain aversion to writing with anyone who won't take the time or interest to write with any except my male muses, because I'm well over a decade into the roleplay fandom in tumblr, and I've seen this game too much not to notice it, directed at me and at others. This isn't a callout of anyone. This was just on my mind and so this is a blanket statement that I want to put out here, because I am old and I am tired and I'm here to write and have fun. Not to have the old writing anxiety creep back up about Well, maybe I don't write them as well as I think, and what if they're Mary Sues and that's the problem? If this seems blunt, my apologies. I'm usually very chill, but I get unapologetically invested in every single one of my muses. I love them to death. I could give whole lectures on pretty much every single one of them about their backstories, their quirks, their motivations, etc. I say that to say this: I try my hardest to show interest in every muse that I know someone has—whether that's likes on headcanon posts if I can't figure out a way for our muses to interact or because I'm a bit slow to approach because anxiety, or if it's by starting threads and sending memes—because I do find all of them interesting and I love all the effort and the thought and the passion and the love that goes into each and every one of the muses I follow. As a result, on the flipside, if a writer gives equal time or at least interest to more than just my male muses, I am far more likely to plot and to write with them, because then I feel like they care about all of my muses, too, rather than feeling like my male muses are being used and the female ones ignored. It's not really a good feeling on either side of that equation when it's any other way.

#|| out of charm || { ooc }

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clippedwingsmuses · 14 days

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ooc: good morning, no icon bc i am. guh. i am so tired rn, but i had to give yall a psa update about stuff going on with me (since i just got back from my doc appointment)

basic tldr; my activity is most likely going to be even more sparse than it is for a while because i'm focused on my mental and physical health (working on regulating my bipolar disorder primarily), as well as some legal issues that i need to address; what activity i do have may be restricted to my current threads and i might not be making ooc update posts very frequently

full information (and miscellaneous ramble-venting) is under the cut

active muse check: surge, laurance, wanderer, kieran

(cw: mental health, general medical and legal talks, venting)

ooc: so breaking news, apparently it turns out my bipolar disorder might be the more major diagnosis between everything that i got checked out a couple weeks ago, i got prescribed some mood stabilizers so i should be getting them in tomorrow

im having to re-set up my insurance bc they fucked me over and cancelled it (we didn't get any of the documents that they were supposed to be giving us, and my acc on their website can prove we didn't receive them) so that's stressing me out

i also had to get bloodwork done today for whatever reason, going there and doing the bloodwork is what gave us the heads up that my insurance was cancelled so i guess i'm glad for it, but also we can't really afford to pay for the bloodwork rn (and barely if at all); i'm glad that i got it done so i can see if i have any physical issues to worry about, but at the same time that payment is gonna fuck us over for a little, cause we barely get by as it is

im also cramping which sucks!!!!! but that's small beans compared to everything else

i mean today already started off pretty shit for me, i only got about 4 hours of sleep cause my anxiety kept me up most of the night (who was surprised that would happen? not me) since i was stressing about the appointment (they're also still ignoring the potential that i could be neurodivergent, and i know damn well that i am, they just keep blaming my issues on everything else that's wrong with me, so that's stressing me out to a pretty strong degree too)

so yeah, considering all my mental health issues and the doctors visits ive basically been having nonstop for the last couple of weeks, my activity on this account is probably going to be even less than it already is; i've just got too much going on to put all my energy into fixating on writing, and even writing my novel is a chore that i've really had to trudge through the mud to finish (i'm still not even done with it)

i will still be around to write on here ofc, but i might restrict myself into not actively searching for any new rp partners for a while; i'm going to try spending my time relaxing and getting my shit sorted before i fully commit to being here as much as i have been. again, activity will still be here all things considered, but i might not be making very many ooc posts like i have been, and as far as dash shenanigans go i might be pretty quiet

my discord is open to mutuals if anyone wants to chat or discuss plots, and my ims on here will always be open as well

sorry for rambling and bitching so much on here i just like to keep yall informed, but yeah the tldr at the top basically explains all the important details outside of my rambling

#:/: ooc #:/: psa #mun msg: aughghghg i feel like shit #mun msg: but hey surge is active again lmao #mun msg: and kieran is back!!!!!! yippee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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pararennial-archived · 5 months

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*‵ ･ ze frank voice: that's how a chilla do ･ ′

Name / Alias: Chilla as in chinchilla lol

Are you over 18?

Yes / No

WRITING.

Are you selective about who you write with?

No (anyone) / Semi (most people) / Yes (some people) / Highly (few people) / Private (mutuals only).

I only write threads with mutuals, but the non-mutuals who I'm cool with can interact with the light, silly dash comm stuff!

Are you selective about who you follow?

No (anyone) / Semi (most people) / Yes (some people) / Highly (few people).

If your muse is canon, how much do you adhere to canon?

Not at all / A little / Some / Mostly / Strictly / Not Applicable.

She's an OC, baby! She's got her own canon and I have a vision!

What post lengths do you write?

One-Liners / Single-Para / Multi-Para / Novella / All of the aforementioned.

Do you use icons and/or GIFS?

No / Gifs / Icons / Yes / Sometimes.

Do you write on other platforms?

No / Yes

What level of plots do you write?

Unplotted/ Open-Ended Plots / Semi-Plotted / Fully Plotted Epics / All of the mentioned

I just love continuity and stories between characters, but I am realistic about time and commitment and can be flexible. I just hate purposeless and aimless stuff.

How quickly do you usually respond to threads?

Very Slow (more than a month) /Slow (3-4 weeks) / Average (1-2 weeks) / Fast (less than one week) / Very Fast (less than three days)

It depends on my mood and whether I feel like I am in a good headspace to write.

What types of themes do you like?

Adventure / Romance / Fluff / Angst/ Violence / Tragedy / Domestic / Family / All of the aforementioned

Yeah, romance will be an extremely rare thing because I created a canon endgame for Roxy and also... romantic attraction is sorta... an iffy thing for Roxy. More on that later.

WHAT GENRES DO YOU LIKE? ( Feel free to add!)

High Fantasy / Supernatural / Science Fiction / Historical / Horror / Comedy / Romantic / Drama / Action / Smut / Adventure / Espionage / All of the aforementioned

Are there any themes you're uncomfortable writing on your blog? (Not triggers)

No / Yes / Sometimes

Do you have any triggers? How do you request it tagged?

They are more visual triggers that make me genuinely upset like rl g.ore, images of self-mutiliation or self-harm, uncanny valley kind of stuff (again it depends on how I am feeling? It's hard to explain but anything to do with unsettling stares makes me nope so hard).

SHIPPING.

What types of relationships are you open to?

Romantic / Platonic / Familial / Enemies / All of the aforementioned

I feel like nowadays dynamics are too oversimplified and lacking complexity. Yes I like friendships, familial, enemies (muses having beef makes everything extra juicy), etc. I feel like I cannot really encompass a lot of the other stuff I crave so I figured I needed to say a little something about it. Also, if romance happens, it'll be very slow burn and I do not ever autoship my character. Ever.

What types of pre-established relationships are you open to?

Romantic / Platonic / Familial / All of the aforementioned

I don't do pre-established relationships anymore, my writing and my character shine when there are no expectations and just growth through interactions. In short, it's better to fuck around and find out.

Do you have OTPs?

No / Chemistry Only / Yes /

Well, I did create Maciu for Roxy... and for the mutual who's heard me talk about stupid shit about this goofy, loveable himbo, then yeah... that's the OTP.

Do you have NOTPS?

No / Yes / hmmm.

Well... I'm not into forced romances... especially with super hetero m/f ships because it leaves such a bad taste in my mouth when people assume that any sort of positive relationship that Roxy has with a non-blood related man means that they are going to get together. Also... because I had to deal with such grossness in the past around Roxy's asexuality, I literally had to write a post to get people to act right and draw the line with her.

What is your muse's sexual orientation?

Heterosexual / Heteroflexible / Bisexual / Pansexual / Homoflexible / Homosexual / Demisexual / Sapiosexual / Asexual / Still trying to figure it out

What is your muse's romantic orientation?

Heteroromantic/ Heteroflexible / Biromantic / Homoflexible / Homoromantic / Panromantic / Demiromantic / Sapioromantic / Aromantic / Still trying to figure it out / Depends on the muse you're asking.

Are you comfortable writing smut?

No / VERY Selectively / Yes

How early in a relationship do you ship romantically?

Autoship / During plotting / After a couple IC interactions / Several IC interactions / Slow burn / Plot dependent / Never / If it happens it happens

Are you open to toxic ships?

No / Selectively / Yes / I am not sure

I hate that I feel like I need to explain myself a lot, but up to the point with Roxy's character development, I feel like it's less likely she's gonna land herself in toxic relationships with people because she's been there and done that. She's not afraid to put anybody on their asses if they try her patience. And this is by no means me saying that victims are too weak-willed or cannot stand up for themselves. It's more that as soon as Roxy catches onto any sort of fuckery it's over, no exceptions. But toxic relationships don't have to be romantic, sometimes it takes one person to negatively influence your life if you allow them access. That would be interesting, but I don't want to romanticize that.

Are you open to problematic ships?

No / Selectively / Yes / I am not sure This is too broad, but I will say that I have no inclination to write abuse in romance, definitely not age gaps where minors are involved, no to inc*st, anything to do with sexual abuse or r*pe, curing the racist/bigot plots, etc.

Are you open to polyshipping?

No / Selectively / Yes / I am not sure

I mean IF that happens!

Are you an exclusive shipper?

Never / Sometimes / Yes / I would be open to discuss it

I mean, if a ship outside of Roxy's canon actually happens! I went 10 years without a ship here, if that isn't a testament to Roxy's "fickle" demiromanticism, I don't know what is! Canon x OC, or OC x OC, if it happens, let's talk!

Does crack shipping ever happen?

Nope / Yes / depends

My friends, once again, this shit has never happened in all my years here lmfao!

Tagged by: @ama-tcra-su

Tagging: anybody

#‵ *.: ⚘ :.*・❨ 𝐨𝐨𝐜 ❩・ ⏤ no thoughts ‚ head full of shoegazey metal. ′

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ladyseidr · 5 months

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I bet you thought this was over, but surprise! I wanted to do one more of the muses that got votes because this was fun lmao. Warning for a brief non-sexual and non-descriptive mention of self-harm.

Right now I'm not going with Jer.emike or any other ship being necessarily default canon ( this may change who knows ), so honestly Michael by default doesn't get much experience romantic or sexual prior to getting, y'know, scooped.

Assumptions based on the alt clothing, piercings, and his sadly horrendous reputation ( which i need to go into detail abt sometime ) mean ppl tend to assume he's open to casual sex / very sexually active. This is incredibly wrong.

Not open to casual sex pretty much at all, although this isn't genuine lack of interest. It's more so a combination of trust issues and the fact that he does self-harm and doesn't want strangers ( or anyone, really ) seeing his scars /wounds.

On that same note, he'll be extremely tentative abt moving beyond fooling around fully clothed with even a committed partner if they don't know abt the self-harm.

Okay, from here on out, mostly lighter topics!!

Let's get started bluntly: playing with his nipples will drive him crazy. He's super sensitive.

High sex drive. Masturbates most days, sometimes twice if it's a slow day.

Literally so easy to turn on if he's attracted to someone. Giving him a boner takes almost no effort so like uhhhh. There's a challenge for you fkdhfkdhjsals

Kiss him for 3 hours straight please.

Loves experimenting and trying new things, just super open-minded. Doesn't mean he'll always like it, but there's only a number of things he's adamantly against even trying.

Will suck dick like his life depends on it, like he will learn how to deep throat and never look back LMAO

Switch ( what's new lmao ), but if he had to choose, he fucking loves to bottom.

Missionary while he's getting fucked? He's a wreck.

Extra loves sex / masturbation because it means getting to kinda turn his brain off for a bit and just Enjoy Something.

Acts like he's so confident but actually getting him comfortable enough to dirty talk and not be embarrassed is A Feat fdkhfadsfhjdsalhd

Pull his hair, it's long for a reason—

BITE HIM.

Very into grinding against / humping his partner.

Into domming / subbing sometimes, but generally prefers just going with the flow in the bedroom, if that makes sense.

So goddamn touch-starved that entering into a romantic & sexual relationship with him means meeting a whole new side of him ( the side that thrives on physical touch ).

Loves rough sex, but lbr he'll fall to pieces over anything romantic. Body worship might make him cry tbh.

Finds jealousy way fucking annoying, sorry. I mean, this isn't technically a sexual headcanon by itself but you get me. He doesn't find it hot, he finds it annoying and insulting. He's valid for this btw flkdhsashdj

Extremely touchy-feely during sex. His hands will be wandering everywhere, he wants to memorize his partner's whole body.

Sex / jerking it as a means to relieve stress? Absolutely.

Overstimulate him. Do it.

So down to get his dick sucked at the drive-in. That's it, that's the headcanon.

Okay most ppl won't be interested in this, but let's talk about it anyway: after being scooped, he's probably not doing sexual stuff. Even if he was still fully capable, he experiences a lot of chronic pain and just generally isn't in the mood. He def has times here and there where he's frustrated, but y'know. He's still open to romantic shipping post-scooping but please remember that he's a rotting corpse missing most of his innards lmao.

#˖ ♡ 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃. » modern tragedy ( michael afton )#☽—— ⸢ u s f w ⸥#f n a f /#sinday #suggestive #self-harm mention tw #posts that make me want him to feel loved by somebody soooo badly

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astarab1aze · 2 months

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🩵 lounie tunesssss

muse relationship headcanon game

who curses more?

well, as far as i know, they both cuss a lot, but loux's gotta take the cake on this one. sometimes, every other word out of his mouth, literally, is fuck or some variation of, and he says shit like it's going out of style. like that one song by blink-182? that's ya boi, poppin' off at the mouth.

who is more patient?

i feel like.......loux....loux is more patient than loni. no no, i think about it, and how this man is willing to wait FORTY YEARS to be with her. forty years, turbo. forty. he waits. that is the longest any of my muses have ever waited for anyone or really even anything (hydre doesn't count >:/). he is a man determination, commitment, and sheer fuckin' will--

who does the driving?

loni 100%. loux can't drive and she shouldn't let him....ever.

who is louder? who is quieter?

i think they're about matched. they both can be quiet, both can be loud, and it seems to pan out at about a 50/50 imo. they just shake hands and dance to dirty r&b songs on this point, and i love that for them.

who is more physically affectionate?

this seems to be another both of them thing, but i'd still venture to say loux far surpasses her in this respect. he's always got his hands on her in some way, always kissing on her, holding her, just - touching her constantly, maybe even to the point of it being annoying. that's his wife, she can live with being wanted and desired 24/7 🙄

who is more likely to tease the other?

i think they're equally likely to tease each other, one more...flagrantly sexually than the other, but-- boffum, m8. you know as well as i do how bad they can get too uwu

who is better with time management?

both of them are good about it, empirically. loux has the benefit of fancy magical tools that can sort of bend time and space for him to get anywhere at a moment's notice, so he's maybe just faster, but i'd think it's pretty fair to say they manage their time well. i don't see either one of them being late on anything, literally ever. and in the offchance they are late to something, it's because loux got a little too handsy lbr

who wins the arm wrestling matches?

loni, hands down. not because loux lets her win, not because he's weak, because never. mans is too competitive to just let anyone do anything skjdfhs but genuinely i do think loni beats him out here, cos he's not as muscular as she is and he's a good sportsman. without all his magic, using only his physical strength - loses to his wife, who is stronger than him.

who controls the music in the car ride?

loux and loni share music, so it doesn't matter. i fully headcanon this.

who covers dinner when they order in?

loni would insist, i'm sure of it, and loux would fight her on it. he will absolutely not let her pay for dinner. he is so determined to be a provider and a protector in his own way, he just - will not. he already paid, in fact, with cash because they used his phone to order. i am telling you, turbo. they're just gonna have to fight over this until they're old godly bitties in the sky. not sorry uwu

who is more outgoing? who is more shy?

loux is the most outgoing. he's an idiot, but he's truly a social butterfly, life of the party, fratboy ringleader, class clown type of guy. loni's the shier one, of the two, for sure. i think? that sounds right to me. loux's here to do backflips and steal the show (which includes taking all the heat, too)

who has the more outlandish fashion sense?

loux. i have an entire pinterest board to prove it...! you cannot tell me loni has anything in her closet that could top loux's >:U

who starts the tickle fights? who ends them?

HMMMM loux, then loni. but then also loni, then loux.

who has the darker/more "edgy" sense of humor?

loux, hands down. i don't think i need to elaborate here ksjdfhsd but i do think he'd make a few jokes that'd piss loni off or disgust her.

who is more competitive when it comes to games?

i think it's a toss-up here, although i don't really imagine them playing video games together. maybe some ddr at the local arcade on a date or two? otherwise the 'games' they're playing are probably in the bedroom--

who has the bigger appetite? the bigger sweet tooth?

i'm...admittedly not sure. loux eats and could put away a mountain of food, but i don't think his appetite is really all there. he loves to cook though, so he ends up eating somewhat regularly anyway, but he has a generally low appetite, i think. oh but he loves sweets. loves sweets. and is more than happy to share with loni.

who is more likely to get in a confrontation in public?

i'm calling it 50/50 here because loux'll throw down with anybody over nothing and loni is a tough cookie who don' take no shit. 1+1=2 for me, mhmm.

who hosts the parties/hangouts? who organizes them?

loux doesn't party as much as anyone thinks. he just shows up, sells the goods, does a little, and nopes out. hangouts are different - he is literally up her ass right now begging for a date tomorrow lbr. loux. but also loni does too... loux is just insane about her so naturally--

who is better at cooking? do they ever cook for each other?

loni is not allowed in his kitchen except to sit there and look pretty and taste what he makes. she will find a way to burn water and mans can't have his etoufee fucked up. he loves her, of course, but girl do not even think about filling a pot with water. loux's a perfectionist, unfortunately, when it comes to food and he can be such a brat about it too.

who is more likely to engage in dangerous and/or illegal behavior?

they both are, but loux moreso, i think. i mean, he's got a rap sheet a mile long. :I from public indecency to capital murder and just about everything in between. he loves breaking the law, and killing people, and hustling, and committing fraud, tax evasion, theft, torture, more murder, arson... okay, i shouldn't say he loves it because he doesn't actually, but it is all very fun for him.

who is more likely to notice when something is wrong with the other?

thaaaat really depends. they're both very sensitive to each other in their own ways, be it emotionally or sensorily. like loux would notice right away if something physical was wrong with loni, and he's usually pretty good about the emotional stuff even if he is a little unconventional or A Lot about it. i think loni would be able to tell right away if something was wrong with loux physically, but maybe not emotionally since he locks his shit all the way down and it's usually hard to tell how he's actually feeling without him physically expressing it. um, something like that?

who does the talking in public settings (i.e. to the waiter at a restaurant)?

i feel like they'd take turns. loux getting to be a gentleman sometimes, loni getting to be the proverbial 'daddy' other times. they defend each other, they speech together, they sing together, they yell at people together, literally prove me wrONG TURBO

who is more likely to extend a helping hand & provide emotional support?

uh, emotional support? maybe loni. loux will probably default to physical stuff and small conversation before he approaches the meat. it's just how he is. this could change over time to be more even between the two, though.

who is the bigger prankster? do they get the last laugh or do they suffer for it?

loux, and he gets the last laugh. he also suffers dearly for it. marriage :sparkles: uwu

#☿ || Asks.#✘ // Lounie Tunes; Loni.#maljefe #/ let me know if i'm wrong on some of these but also you can't change my mind on others skjdhfsd #/ idk i love them

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razzithold · 1 year

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Late night Headcanon musings:

Listen Harlivy is absolutely my ride and die but Also love the possibility of Harley and Ivy being in a polyamorous relationship with Catwoman while she's dating/married to Batman.

I'm talking parks and rec esque scene of Batman saying "This is my wife Catwoman, and over there is her girlfriend Ivy, and next to Ivy is Ivy's other girlfriend Harley, Harley and Ivy are both dating my wife but I'm not dating them, also over there is my boyfriend Superman. Oh and both Superman and I are kind of in a relationship with Wonder Woman? It's complicated."

Also Selina knows Bruce's secret identity, and Bruce knows her and Clark's and Diana's secret identity, but Ivy and Harley don't know anyone but Selina's secret identity in this relationship. Bruce tries to maintain his veneer of secrecy to the best of his ability. Lois Lane is in on the shenanigans with Diana and Clark and knows Clark is dating Batman but she doesn't know Bruce's secret identity. Given the chance Lois will heckle Batman about keeping her man safe.

Diana is loosely with Bruce and Clark and Lois but doesn't fully commit to any serious romantic relationship because she's got so many other things to deal with to bother with serious romance.

Just please I'd much prefer healthy open relationships and polyamorous relationships than cheating. Clark is too upstanding to cheat! Bruce and Diana have very strong morals! Selina may be shady at times but she does indeed have lines she won't cross, as do Ivy and Harley. Even if they fancy another person, they care about their current partners enough to forego pursuing a new person if their current partners say no.

Thanks for coming to my 3am ramblings I'm here every week-

#harlivy #dc headcanon #headcanon #musings #ramblings #polycule #batman #catwoman #harley quinn #poison ivy #also selina absolutely cucks bruce #i am 100% serious #you telling me batman ISN'T a cuck?#that man is absolutely a cuck

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whatiwillsay · 2 years

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Do you still believe in Tily and Beards to Lovers with Joe? If so, when do you think Tily broke up? Late 2018 or Fall 2019?

i don't know if i think toe was beards to lovers...

here's what i DO believe: taylor and lily were involved in a way that was beyond friendship and dress is about her and that halloween party lily was at. more songs on reputation could be about her as well. how serious they were and when is impossible for us to know. i could see anything from a pretty serious connection to something less serious the arguments for a serious connection are very good but as y'all know for me there is ZERO doubt in my mind that taylor and joe are real now. so the question is were they beards to lovers or just was she open and casual with him for a while before fully committing to him?

tbh the more likely option to me does seem she was open and casual with him for a while. monogamy is incredibly rare in hollywood (and open relationships are becoming extremely common irl too) and if any of Reputation is about him he was very flighty and she seemed scared he wouldn't commit to her.

however, beards to lovers i suppose could be a thing as well. he is a perfect "muse match" for lily being blond, blue-eyed, and from london. i'm sure it's happened in the industry before obviously fake dating aus are a thing!

anyway as far as timelines go i highly suggest @tilynation and if we explore her expertly crafted timeline we see that lily disappears from taylor's life in early 2019.

so did she stop being beards and start being lovers with joe then? possibly or it's possible she and joe just decided to commit fully to one another.

whatever happened i would look to early 2019 because lily was travelling with taylor on tour as late as late 2018.

#tily #toe #open toe #beards to lovers

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pageadaytale · 2 days

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BOOK REVIEW ROUNDUP - A Trio of Quick Classics

This past month I took a bit of a break from non-fiction. I was feeling burnt-out on facts and figures, and no matter how much they dress it up a science book is by neccessity going to include some science. So instead of reading more non-fiction, I spent most of June reading some classics! Here's three that were quick, easy, and also pretty good:

#1: A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

It's a classic for a reason! Brief synopsis: Ebeneezer Scrooge is a miserly businessman who steals even the coal from his worker's fire, and he's visited on Christmas Eve by three ghosts who attempt to change his wicked selfish ways! I honestly found this a little difficult to get into - a quirk of Dickens's writing style, where he'll fill a page with musings on the shape of a door-knocker because he's getting paid by the word - but once it gets going, it goes. It doesn't let up, as we move from one ghost to the next, and it's a heartwarming and touching story which is helped by humanising Scrooge with a tragic past on several levels. The ghosts are memorable and witty, and they provide some much-needed lessons for Scrooge. We all know the story, and it ends with a Happily Ever After. A little slow to start, but excellent as it goes.

#2: The Outsider by Albert Camus

Also known as The Stranger, this novel by Albert Camus is about the injustice of the justice system. It follows Mr Mersault, a Frenchman living in Algeria, who seemingly feels nothing the way he is supposed to. On the day of his mother's funeral he is tired, but not sad, and in the days after he returns to his life as normal. When he falls in with the wrong crowd and kills a local, his trial focuses more on his personality and his apparent lack of emotion than on his actions or the events surrounding the murder.

The Outsider resonated with me, in part because I see the justice system every day, but also because it's easy to feel like my emotions do not match people's expectations at any given point. It can be seen as a scathing indictment of the justice system's callous disregard of mental health - where judges have the right to lock you up indefinitely for any crime, if they believe you are not mentally "well" enough to simply go to jail; and where police are the first responders to any emergency, and are not trained to deal with a mental health crisis, so they usually resort to their standard tactics: brute force and arrests. I feel Mersault's pain as the jury and the crowd in court judge him for his idiosyncracies and quirks, rather than for the crime he committed. It's a quick read, and one with unexpected depth.

#3: The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan

So of the three, this was my least favourite. That's mainly because it starts off with a wildly anti-semitic plot point. Our protagonist, straight-talking adventurer Richard Hannay, is fed up with life in London, where he's spending his days going from one function to another and talking with the most boring diplomats and businessmen. Just when he's thinking of throwing it all in and heading back to Africa, a man turns up on his doorstep with a tale to tell: there's a shady group of people controlling the actions of the world governments and they're aiming to plunge the world into war! Buchan is not coy about naming the Jews here, and he'll leave you with that impression for fully half the book, so I'm going to spoil it now and reveal that, surprise! The Jews have nothing to do with the government-controlling world-war plot! Turns out the first guy was a British spy who just so happened to be suuuper-anti-semitic and blamed every plot on them. Good job his death is the catalyst to get the plot started! Suddenly Hannay must dodge secret-society goons and the Metropolitan Police as he escapes London for his childhood home of Scotland, meets a bunch of people along the way who help him out, and generally has a cracking good adventure for a few weeks.

Anyway, it turns out it's the Germans orchestrating the whole world-war thing, Hannay uncovers one of the goons disguised as the First Sea Lord stealing naval secrets, and the whole story culminates in a showdown at a townhouse overlooking the sea in Kent, which is extraordinarily well-written and made me worry that Hannay had in fact got the whole thing wrong! It's a shame that after that, the ending is kinda a downer: despite stopping the leak of national secrets and taking down the Black Stone, our secret society bent on world destruction, the march to war is now inevitable, and Hannay enlists and is bumped up to Captain immediately. He considers it a noble endeavour; there's no mention that he has failed utterly in his purpose, save perhaps for preventing the war turning the war in Germany's favour with British naval secrets being stolen.

Overall, it's the kind of rip-roaring adventure you'd see in kid's fiction not too long ago, only with more adult themes and some dated references. And racism. A whole lot of racism.

Conclusion

Look, sometimes you just have to read some classics. If I were ranking them, The Outsider comes first, followed by A Christmas Carol and then The Thirty-Nine Steps is a distant third. The other two are just a little deeper, and they're not steeped in a general first-world-war era xenophobia. I would say they're all worth a read - The Thirty-Nine Steps if only for its pacing and as a quintessential example of an adventure novel.

Overall, if you need a break from your usual fare, you can't go wrong with a classic. Especially if they're less than two-hundred pages.

#book review #fiction #classic literature #A Christmas Carol #The Stranger #The Thirty-Nine Steps #Charles Dickens #Albert Camus #John Buchan

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doctorho · 2 years

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If you knew what the bluebirds sing (pt. 14)

Royal! Viktor x gender neutral reader, 2.2k words, no warnings

hi babes <3 here we go again. honestly, i feel like maybe the last four chapters or so could have all been packed into one chapter, but i'm writing this as we go along here, so eh. anyway, i hope you like this one <3 i'm trying to use this fic to buffer away my anxiety about real world shit, so you're getting a mid-week update instead of the usual weekend ones!

tags:@aggressa @obsessive-sapphic @shadow-pancake9 @agatemermaid @scorpio-echo @kalisbury @viktoryscreech @ivetoldamillionlies @twilightdollie @cassandras-musings @kaimerra

and special thanks to @basichextechml , @namethatneuron and the anon that gave their thoughts on what our boi here would smell like!

The night goes by in a haze.

Which is to say, you sort of feel like you’re floating. Like the air in the room is static, the whole world asleep.

The bed is a weird combination of soft and hard, supportive in a way your own cheap second-hand mattresses had never been, and his sheets feel expensive, and something about the whole situation was…calming.

At first you try to tell yourself that it has more to do with the bed than the fact that you were sharing it with him, but that’s a shallow lie at best. Something to hide behind to avoid looking truth in the eyes.

The bed is warm, and even with your eyes closed, he is a solid presence next to you. And every second you spend even remotely conscious you’re just sinking deeper into that feeling. Into the comfort. Just reveling in the bliss of it all, letting it surround you and fill your veins with something warm and glowing.

It makes you feel a little bit guilty, like you maybe shouldn’t be enjoying it as much as you were. Like focusing on just this small amount of closeness and holding onto it this tightly was something you weren’t supposed to do, like stealing a cookie when no-one was looking. But you’re still committing every second of it to memory the best you can, like you’re trying to store this feeling for later, because–

Well, because there’s no point in passing by that kind of warmth. The world didn’t offer up happiness easily, so you would take any small joy you could get. Even if it left you feeling like maybe you were just a bit too desperate, assigning too much weight onto such a small thing.

But you would take what you could get.

And even though the classy mattress feels a bit strange and foreign, it’s still the best you’ve slept in ages.

You only stir from sleep once before morning, and when you do, it’s to a soft silence and gentle darkness that wraps around you like a second blanket.

You’re confused, at first. About where you are, about what happened, and why your bed is warmer than normal. The memories bleed back to your mind slowly, bit by bit – the guards, the bath, the quiet conversations.

The warm body pressed against yours.

There’s a split-second calm before the storm, when you just drink in that feeling, before fully registering what was actually going on.

The room was still dark, the sun wasn’t up yet, and if you had to guess you would say it wouldn’t be for a few hours. That was good, at least. But you’re curled up against him, way closer than you were planning on getting, legs tangled together and an arm thrown over his body.

You tense when you realize this. You’re not sure if he’s awake, but you still instinctively breathe out a quiet, broken sorry and move away, lifting off your arm as gently as you can. In the darkness, the movement feels bigger than it is, and for a second you feel like you’ve definitely crossed some line here, and you’re not sure what’s on the other side of it.

He breathes out a deep sigh, and you feel like time stands still.

“You don’t need to apologize.” He says quietly, his voice just a quiet rumble.

You commit that to memory, too. The way his voice sounds like this; quiet, rough, and close. It becomes one of those things you shouldn't think too much about, but your brain files it away automatically, without question, instantly labeled as important – save for later.

“I’m pretty sure there’s some rule about how I’m not supposed to touch you without permission.” You note, trying to retain some normalcy in the situation, and trying to keep your mind from spiraling too far. Trying to jump back over to the safer side of that metaphorical line you’d crossed.

He doesn’t answer. Not right away, anyway.

Instead, he shifts enough to see your face, and even in the darkness, his eyes seem to almost glow. He meets you at your eye level, on his side on the mattress, mirroring your position.

“You have my permission.” He says, the words quiet but crystal clear.

For a few seconds, you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something again. But this time the other side of it is a lot clearer – and you’re not sure if that makes it more or less scary.

He doesn’t seem offended. He seems calm, and somehow, it’s infectious, making the nerves that were stirring inside you settle.

“But that doesn’t mean I would necessarily recommend it.” He adds, with something sad laced just under the words.

“What do you mean?” You mutter, your mind still a little hazy from sleep.

Honestly, you weren’t totally sure you weren’t still asleep. The entire world felt hazy, like this, dark and quiet and warm, and the way he was looking at you didn’t help make it feel any more real. There was something deep in his eyes, and – sure, maybe that was just the darkness, and his eyes were always intense, so it made sense they would be even more so up close, but the way he looked at you now was piercing.

But the heavy beat of your heart feels real, the weight of the blankets solid around your body, and all the little traces of him around you seemed just a little bit too detailed to be just figments of your imagination.

Like the warmth of his body, the silky smoothness of the expensive sheets, his scent enveloping you – black tea, and old books, and something strange you couldn’t quite place – and, honestly, you weren’t sure your dreams would ever be able to get all these little details right.

And there was the fact that he hadn’t pulled away. He was still close to you, almost painfully close, just a breath short from touching, watching you patiently.

“I mean that no matter how much I might enjoy that, it’s not something I can ask of you.” He answers, the words slow and quiet. Like an unpleasant truth that he had accepted a long time ago.

You furrow your brows a bit on instinct.

It’s a short sentence, really, but there’s a lot of information in it. It’s right there, underneath the words, hanging in the air between you two as your brain tries to catch up to what it means.

“Okay,” You say slowly, “And what if I want to touch you?”

Each word feels like a step on thin ice, and waiting for his reaction feels like waiting for any cracks to appear.

He just looks at you, for a moment.

“Then you have my permission.” He repeats, the words simple and light. "But I think that you should think very hard about what you do next."

It almost sounds like a warning, the way he says the last part. With something heavy in his voice.

"Trust me, I already have."

It’s not a lie. You had been thinking about it. Way more than what felt appropriate, in fact.

He’s so close already that it doesn’t take much for you to lean your forehead against his. It’s a small movement, shifting closer, but it changes a lot; you can both hear and feel the small, shaky sigh he lets out, you can feel his warmth again, and it feels right, and your legs brush his under the blankets. You close your eyes, just drinking in the feeling.

“And you are sure you want to do this?” He asks, barely above a whisper.

“Yes.”

The word is light, simple. Honest.

He takes a deep breath and nods slightly, just a small barely-there movement. It makes his hair brush against your face.

There are a thousand little questions that hang in the air above you. But you ignore all of them, for now, just focusing on the moment. For now, it was enough that he was there. Sure, realistically, you knew that morning would come and all this peace would shatter into pieces, but that didn’t matter, not yet. You would take any happiness you could get before then.

“And that goes both ways, you know.” You add quietly, “You can touch me too, if you want to.”

For a few seconds, he stays still. And then, very carefully, he lifts a hand, running it along the side of your body before settling at your waist. His touch is gentle and slow, but it still feels intense. Way more so than what was logical – by all accounts, he was barely even touching you, and yet your entire body registered it like it was the most important thing that had happened in ages.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” You answer, and it almost comes out as a sigh. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”

The only answer he gives is a quiet hum. He stays like that, for a moment – quiet, close, still.

“I just…don’t want you to feel like you have to do any of this.”

“Viktor.” You say, soft but pointed, hoping it would pull him away from whatever doubts he was stumbling into. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

He's quiet for a long moment again.

“Do you promise?”

“Yes. I promise.”

Time stands still again, and you settle into this new intentional closeness, curling a little bit closer to him.

You fall asleep like that, drifting away into the hazy weightlessness and listening to his steady breathing.

When morning comes around for real, waking up is weird. You almost don’t want to let go of the sticky-sweet world of dreams, but when you do, reality is almost as good. He is still close, his body pressed against yours, and for a moment, you just revel in that in-between world of not-yet-tomorrow.

Until he sighs deeply, and shifts, running a hand through his hair.

He doesn’t need to say anything out loud for you to know what it means. The sun was almost up, and it was time for you to go.

Your own clothes are still wet and cold from earlier, and you grimace a bit picking them up – they serve as a sharp reminder of the real world, outside this room.

You tuck them away, not wanting to wear them, and pick through the clothes he had gotten for you last night instead. They would do, a few more layers on top of what had worked as pajamas. It was good enough.

If you were lucky, no-one would even see you on the way to your room. You would need to hang up your old clothes to dry, and get the borrowed ones back to him at some point, but that could all wait.

For now, you just focus on the simple task of sneaking back out without being caught.

He watches from the bed silently as you gather yourself and prepare to slip out of the door. The sun isn’t fully up yet, but it's getting close – the sky was brighter, and the first rays of orange sunlight were already starting to paint the windows. It highlights some of the dust floating in the air, and somehow that makes the silence in the room feel just that much more tangible.

It feels like the rest of the world is still asleep. Like time itself was still a little bit drowsy, moving more slowly than normal, just dragging on, not having quite kicked life into full gear yet.

Realistically speaking, someone in the castle was awake. Someone always was. Night-shift guards, if no-one else. This close to morning someone would probably be in the kitchen too, getting the ovens hot and the coffee brewing. But somehow it still felt like you and him could have been the only people awake in the whole world, as long as you were inside this room.

Rio chirps quietly in her closure, and you feed her a flower before you go. Viktor just watches, quietly.

You stop before walking out the door, pausing in your movements, taking one last chance to linger in this moment a little bit longer.

"I'm assuming that this never happened?" You say quietly, not quite meeting his eyes and trying not to let the slowly-fermenting bitterness show in your voice. Considering the first night you two had shared in the kitchen, you already knew the answer you were going to get, but saying it out loud still felt a little bit harsh. Like speaking something into existence, making it real, solid.

"Right." He sighs, "Yes."

You nod, just a small barely-there movement, and you’re not sure if he even sees it. But it ends the conversation, and you slip out of the door quietly, and sneak back out to your own room, avoiding all the guards on your route.

The rest of the day almost feels like a dream, too, and you spend most of it inside your own head, deep in your thoughts.

And when you go to bed that night, it feels colder and emptier than ever before.

#viktor arcane #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #royal au #arcane fanfic #viktor #my writing

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bluestripedspeedo · 2 years

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Indiscreet – 01. Before... Pairing: Writer/Producer!Javi Gutierrez x you (Hollywood AU) SERIES MASTERLIST

Image credit

Chapter summary: How it all starts – you are offered a role of a lifetime. Chapter warning: Still on the flirting phase, so nothing spicy yet. The age gap is around 20 years. You're in your mid to late 20s. Some OCs are introduced here, but only a few of them will stick around. Words: 6,3k

Playlist: Songbird - Fleetwood Mac Cornelia Street - Taylor Swift False God All I Want - Joni Mitchell River A Case of You

Author's note: Thank you all for the feedback on the introduction chapter! I'm so excited to finally get this story fully going. Javi loves movies, and you love movies, and I'll be happy if you can find references in this and future chapters. 😉 And in case it's not clear yet, regardless of whatever aesthetic posts I reblog, the actress is you. So she looks like what you look like.

✧✧✧

NOVEMBER

The New York winter feels brutal as you wobble your way into a brownstone building in Brooklyn. Thankfully you had decided against taking the subway. And thankfully cabs exist. You can’t imagine braving the sidewalks in your 5-inch boots that’ll crack your head open like an egg if you even attempt to walk in them. Not to mention balancing your handbag, a Tiffany shopping bag full of baby gifts, and a huge bouquet of flowers. You’re glad to be out of your apartment and meeting someone who’s not from your previous job or random parties.

Óscar invited you to his place practically the minute you touched down at JFK five months ago. Your parents wanted you to stay in touch with him just to have an emergency contact in the city. They have been longtime friends from when he was an up-and-coming actor who hung out in the same circles your mother did in her modeling days. Your presence in the previous Morales house used to be a fortnight occurrence until he had to fly out to shoot and you were swamped with work that the routine had ceased a few months ago.

Not only that, but you’ve been needing alone time more often than usual. Even now, in your head you’re already setting up a schedule for another solo night. Pick up a few bottles of wine and gin. Get some macarons from Ladurée on the way home. Order Chipotle. Stop by the cart for a falafel wrap. Pick up a box of microwaveable mac and cheese. Don’t forget Coke again. You have been slowly going insane from the same cycle of waking up, eating, watching movies, and going back to sleep every single day without anything else to look forward to.

Upon graduation your parents had encouraged you to take any opportunities from their friends, acquaintances, business partners; but you didn’t. You’d thought you were too good for an actual job. That’s not where you belong. You’d kill yourself first before committing to a 9 to 5.

And that was an arrogant mistake. It now leaves you with nothing to do and no friends to regularly hang out with because they’re all busy with their grownup jobs. So you spend your time writing anything that comes to mind and reading books and watching movies while traveling the world to give yourself a bit of spark. Not that any of that actually did anything for you.

You had been looking forward to another year of existential crisis when you had the bright idea of moving to the city that never sleeps. Okay, it wasn’t entirely your idea. Your parents finally got tired of seeing you lounge around in their house all day and told you please, find somewhere to go and something else to do that’s not another vacation. We’ll pay for it. So you decided to come here, to the Big Apple, even though you used to think it was the most overrated city on earth. You thought the intimidating chaos and endless options of things to do could finally inspire and push you to actually make yourself useful.

So you finally accepted an internship under a fashion designer whom your mother was a muse to just to be around pretty clothes that you already loved fawning over anyway. And with that, you picked the most gorgeous place with views people would kill for: a sprawling four-bedroom condo with its own lap pool, gym, home theater, and sunroom overlooking Central Park on one side and skyscrapers on the other. All paid for by your folks under the condition that you’ll do something and support yourself from that point on.

I bet their view is nice too from here, you think as the elevator rides up to the topmost floor. Yesterday Óscar asked you to come by their new place after a month-long whirlwind of moving, childbirth, and welcoming well-wishers. He said you were due for a catch up and that he has something for you in mind. Your internship had only lasted a couple of months before it took a toll on you mentally. You love keeping up with runway shows and buying nice things as a hobby, but you couldn’t care about the behind the scenes process as much as you wanted to. Whatever Óscar has in store for you, it’s bound to be much more interesting.

The elevator opens with a ding to a circular foyer with a round table in the middle. You’re not sure where to go from where you stand, so you set your gifts on the table. You’re about to pull up your phone and call Óscar when you hear Ava’s footsteps approaching.

“Hey! I didn’t think you’d be here for another hour.”

“Am I interrupting anything? I’m sorry, I didn’t end up taking the subway and–” you start.

“It’s fine, I was just putting the baby to sleep. But, good decision. Those look painful,” she says, leading you by the elbow to a small closet space and handing you a pair of house slippers. You thank her for it. You wanted to dress really well to impress Óscar as a form of courtesy, and gratitude too, but damn if it’s not entirely comfortable.

You take off your boots and your long green coat, leaving you in your jeans and white long sleeved turtleneck. “I got you some flowers and a couple of things for the baby. I wasn’t sure where you were, so…” you gesture to the table.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to. It’s nice to finally see you again! How have you been?”

“Well, fine. I walk around the city most days, hang out, travel when I have time…”

“As you should,” she gives you a sincere smile. “I have one more thing to do, and Óscar should finish his call any time now. Why don’t you wait in that room at the end there? Make yourself comfortable.”

“Sure.”

✧

When you reach the end of the apartment, you find yourself in a big bright room surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s breathtaking. Pictures in frames are on the walls next to shelves of trinkets from their travels abroad, tattered vinyl records, and worn out books. Colorful throws and rugs adorn the surrounding seats in front of the TV that’s blaring an animated show about a platypus detective. You see the couple’s eldest son sleeping on the couch next to a vaguely familiar looking man who’s typing on his phone. He looks up when he realizes your presence. You awkwardly hover around and he stares at you with an unreadable expression.

“Hi,” says the man after a brief pause. Oh god. “Are you waiting for Óscar?” His voice…

“Yeah. Ava told me to wait here.” You walk to the lounge chair closest to him and sit down. Glancing down at the boy who is still unfazed, you feel the man’s eyes on you. You look up at him, his eyes catching yours. They’re a warm shade of brown, soft and intense at the same time. “Uh, hi. I’m Óscar’s… friend.” He’s more like an extended family to you, with him occasionally popping in and out throughout your life. And he’s more like your parents’ friend, not yours, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I know,” he says. You raise your eyebrows in question. “Óscar said you’re coming over.”

“But we haven’t met, have we?” You cock your head towards him, trying to figure out if you’ve seen him somewhere. He really does look familiar. Maybe a small-time actor?

“No, no. I’m Javi.” He offers his hand to you. You shake it briefly and tell him your name; your handshake weak and noncommittal to his firm and encapsulating one.

“You look familiar… are you an actor too?”

Surprise briefly crosses Javi’s face before he points to an action figure on the floor. “No, but… That’s mine.” You just look at it in confusion, so he continues. “The Man in Beskar?”

“…what?”

“The Man in Beskar. From The Forces Saga. I wrote that.”

“Oh.” You still haven’t shown any sign of recognition.

“The movie with the green alien baby?”

“OH. Yeah. I’ve seen the memes!” Your face lights up. “I haven’t seen it yet. My friends are obsessed though. So, scriptwriter?”

“And producer.”

“Oh. That’s nice. I’ve always wanted to do that. Well, both of your jobs, actually.”

“Yeah? What do you do?”

“Nothing at the moment. I used to be an assistant for a fashion designer.”

“But movies are more interesting?”

“But movies are more interesting.” You nod in agreement. “What else?”

“The Iron Throne?”

“Uh, sorry. Never seen it,” you say, matter-of-factly.

“No way.” He says incredulously. It swept the technical categories at the Oscars and earned over $2 billion at the box office, but fine. “The Last Sicario?”

“I know that one, I… I think I’ve seen clips of it. I’m so sorry.” You laugh nervously.

“You can’t be serious…” He shakes his head, faking disbelief on his face. Javi is not an arrogant man, but the series made headlines because of who made it. It spawned endless heated debates about morality because he wrote it from his own firsthand past experience. He didn’t directly participate in his family’s shady business, but he was an attentive observer, and somewhat of an accomplice. People love it though, and it’s still going strong in its third season.

“We’re off to a bad start, are we?” You laugh. “Okay, what else?”

“Massive Talent?” Javi offers.

Wait. It dawns on you and you feel embarrassed. After a few moments of recovery, you speak up. “You’re, um, the guy from that fa– Spain, aren’t you? Billionaire turned movie… mogul?”

“I guess you could say that.” He smiles shyly, not used to the moniker. “At least that’s one you know.”

“Okay, why don’t we start over. Hi,” you reintroduce yourself. “Nice to meet you. I’ll watch your movies.”

He chuckles. “Mucho gusto. I’m Javier Gutierrez, you can call me Javi. Óscar has told me about you.”

The movie isn’t the only thing you know about him now that you’ve realized who he is. You’re peripherally aware that this man in front of you frequents the Eligible Bachelors lists in recent years. Guest of a Guest, Tatler, Town & Country, everything else your friends regularly appear in have fawned over him… but you were too busy with your own life to pay attention to celebrity gossip. Except for the story that he’s a billionaire from Spain who invited the Nicolas Cage to his birthday party and they ended up making a movie about their time together. And the viral Fallon interview (that you haven’t properly watched except for Twitter clips-slash-memes) where he correctly guessed every single movie with only 3 seconds of clues. He looks slightly different now than you remember from glancing at his pictures in passing a few years ago. Aged, in a good way.

“I can see now that it’s fantastic casting in that movie. He looked just like you.”

“Younger, fitter…”

“No, totally perfect.” You flash him a grin, albeit nervously. “So, what’s next?”

“I’m still working on it.” He studies your face. “You? Any plans to write?”

“It’s not even a work in progress. I was doing it while I was traveling before moving here, and it’s hard.”

He nods. “Eventually divine inspiration will come. Just wait for it. Where did you go?”

“I went all over for a year. Europe, Asia, Australia, here… too many to count. More than 50 cities, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah. I never stayed in one place for more than a week. It was amazing.”

“I’m jealous. I haven’t been able to do that since… since I have a steady job, so to say. Where’s your favorite?”

“That… is tough.” You give it a thought for a few seconds before giving up. “I can’t, I’ll get back to you on that. Oh, I went to Madrid this year. Do you still live in Spain?”

“I still go back now and then, that’s about it. Have you been to Mallorca?”

“No, it looks gorgeous in pictures, though. I’d love to visit.”

“Let me know when you decide to go there. I’ll show you around.”

“O-okay.” You’re sure you are blushing hard now, you just hope it doesn’t obviously show on your face. This very gorgeous man, who probably lives on his own island in Mallorca, being your personal tour guide? Sign me the fuck up.

“How do you like New York?”

“I’m enjoying it so far. I can watch plays and musicals and whatever, whenever I want to. And I still haven’t been to all the museums here.”

“I do the same whenever I come here, soak up everything.”

“Are you here often?”

“Not as much as I used to. I usually stayed for months back when Óscar did theater.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m only here for the week before I have to go back to London. I live there now most of the time.”

“Oh, that’s really nice. I used to go there a lot.”

“Yeah? You’ll–”

“Great, we can skip the introductions.” Óscar enters the room with a mug on each hand, Ava following right behind him.

You rise to your feet and give him a hug. “Hey, Óscar.”

Óscar tries to hug you back while balancing the drinks before he hands you one. Green tea, as usual. He takes a seat across from you while Ava sits next to Javi on the couch.

“How have you been? How are your parents?”

“Great! They’re off to some adventure somewhere, as always. Actually, I was just telling Javi about mine.”

“Where are you going next?” Ava asks.

“Not sure yet. Nothing comes to mind either, really.”

“We’re going to Tokyo next week for my premiere. Come with us,” Óscar suggests.

“Ah, I don’t wanna intrude. Besides, I’m waiting for this one job interview…”

“Oh, yeah? What are you up to?”

“Some social media stuff. Nothing too exciting, to be honest.” You lean back on the chair, extending your legs. You feel Javi’s eyes raking in your form not so subtly.

“Forget about it.” Óscar says so casually you think you must have misheard.

“What?”

“Forget it. I have something better for you. I’m directing a movie, Javi’s writing and producing, and I want you in it.”

You chuckle. “I’m not an actress, Óscar.”

“I know. But I’ve heard how you talk about movies. You have the knowledge and passion. And Javi here would have someone he could rant to. I’m sick of it.” Javi’s head whips towards him and he snickers.

“That’s still not acting, though.”

“You can do it. You used to perform when you were a kid, remember?”

“Ballet recitals are hardly the same as what you do, Óscar.”

“You’ve got experience in performing. That’s enough for me.”

You look at the three of them nervously.

“Here’s the thing. You love movies, you didn’t enjoy your fashion job, otherwise why quit, right? And I think you’d have fun on a movie set.” You listen, silently agreeing with everything he’s saying. “You could network, at least. That could open doors for you. Do you still write?”

“I mean, it’s just a hobby…”

“So, just be on set and see how we work.”

“Can’t I just be on your crew, then? Why do I have to act?”

“It’s great for exposure being in front of the camera. You could get more opportunities that way.” Ava finally chimes in, reassuring you in a soft voice. “And, you’re too pretty to be just behind it.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that, but you hope you don’t look too embarrassingly awkward.

“It’s just a supporting role. Nothing demanding. If anything’s too much for you, we can always rewrite. Let me show you the script first, okay?”

Three pairs of eyes are looking at you expectantly now. “Uh. Okay, then. What’s it about?”

✧✧

THREE DAYS LATER

You’re preparing dinner with your friend Damien after an entire day out together when Óscar texts you an invite. A little get together, he says. You’ll only have to cross the street and walk for 5 minutes to the address he links you to, so you think, why not? It’s not like you have somewhere more important to be, and he says Javi will be there too. You don’t feel like cutting your time together with Damien short, but you want to see Javi’s face again too, so you ask Óscar if you could bring a plus one. To your surprise, Óscar immediately says yes without any question. You don’t know the host personally, but she’s apparently a good friend of his from back in college, and an actress too now. He wants to introduce you to his friends in the industry at the party to ease you in. And if Damien’s going to make you feel more comfortable, so be it.

You met Damien a few years ago through an ex and became fast friends. His good natured humor and happy-go-lucky approach in life contrast your more mellow and anxious one. The two of you continue to stay in touch even after your relationship ended, without it ever coming up in your conversations since. You don’t have many friends to begin with, and you could use a male perspective sometimes. So here he is, sitting on the couch in your bedroom as you finally walk out of your massive walk-in closet after 4 different outfit changes.

“Is this okay?” You ask him.

“It’s literally snowing outside.”

“And?”

“Sooooo what the hell are you wearing?”

“I have nothing that makes me look sexy but still warm, and it’s pretty close, so I could just wear my coat for the walk, and then we’re gonna be indoors anyway…”

“Sexy? For what? Isn’t he like your uncle?” Damien scrunches his nose in disgust. “And don’t ask for my jacket if you need it. When you need it.” He knows you too well.

“Not for Óscar, you gross. Okay. Five more minutes.”

You finally settle for a black Galvan jumpsuit with a slightly plunging bodice, a Saint Laurent shearling leather jacket, and a pair of Gucci mules for your safety. You immediately feel the warmth and comfort upon walking into the Victorian-style apartment. The owner and host, a short red-haired woman named Mira, takes you under her wing and introduces you around to everyone. At one point you lose Damien to a group of guys, deep in conversation about an upcoming hockey game.

Almost an hour later, when you can’t keep track of names and faces anymore no matter how famous they are, you find yourself in the kitchen. You’re in front of the refrigerator looking for a drink when a velvety voice behind you says, “There you are.”

Surprised, you look over your shoulder to Javi leaning on the kitchen counter with a bottle of beer in hand. He’s wearing a white henley shirt with the top buttons opened and his hair slicked back. You feel yourself involuntarily clench at the sight, and what a sight it is. You’ve been catching yourself thinking about him in the past three days since you last saw him, which takes you by surprise every time. He is your type after all… tall, dark, very handsome… except... You know he’s a lot older, that much is clear, but you don’t dare to look up his actual age. Save yourself the embarrassment of developing a crush on your uncle figure’s close friend. Crush??? No, you say to yourself. He’s just very attractive. Anyone could see that.

“I thought you and Óscar bailed and left me to the sharks here.”

“Pfft. We were just having a smoke on the balcony. What are you looking for?”

“Anything but alcohol or water… oh, look. There’s strawberry milk.”

Javi chuckles. “What, not old enough to drink?” he asks, some of the humor disappears from his eyes as he sips his beer.

“I drink just fine, actually!” You say sarcastically, finally finding a can of Coke in the back. You stand up next to him, pouring the contents into a glass. “Maybe too much.”

“How are you doing?” He moves closer to you. Oh, he smells very good.

“Fine, I guess,” you shrug. “You?”

“Same.”

“Wh–” “I’ve–” Javi blurts at the same time as you do.

“Where’s your date?” Javi asks you carefully.

“My date?” You snicker and nod to where Damien’s now playing pool with the same dudes. “I think those guys over there are holding him captive. They were talking about hockey or something.”

“Is he a player?”

“Hockey? No. He used to play football, got injured, and… yep.”

“Hmm.” Javi gets quiet for a moment as you dash a lime over your drink.

“What?” You glance at him.

“Nothing.” Javi clears his throat. “Where’d you guys meet?”

“Us? Well… I was dating his close friend.”

Javi lets out a comically dramatic gasp. “Now you’re with him?”

“What? No! Wait, you think we’re dating?! Ew!” You give Javi a disgusted look as he looks confused. “No, we’re just friends. I don’t know how but we just stayed friends after.”

“Oh… When Óscar said you’re bringing someone, I thought…”

“Yeah, most people think we are too. But no. I was hanging out with him when Óscar texted me. I felt bad, so… now here we are. Where’s yours?”

“No, it’s… nah.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that. I just thought you’d say she’d be at home with the kids, like Ava is right now.” You’d looked him up on Instagram on the way home from Óscar’s, where you noticed his latest post of him in between two toddlers from the back. You’d also noticed that it didn’t take long for him to follow you back, as in mere seconds.

“…what?!” Javi exclaims, his turn to look completely shocked now.

“Your wife, or… I don’t know.” Javi is full on laughing at you now. “What? Oh my god, what?”

“What makes you think I’m married?”

“Well, I don’t know, your Instagram picture—”

“Those are my nephew and niece.”

“Oh! I see,” you say, looking down at your drink, embarrassed. “So we’re off to a weird start again, huh.”

“No wife, no girlfriend, no kids,” he says once he stops wheezing.

This is certainly interesting, you think, as he flashes you a brilliant half smirk. You do remember him being lauded as the most eligible bachelor a few years ago, but things could change pretty fast. And it’s not unheard of for billionaires/A-listers like Javi to secretly have a family somewhere… you’re glad that’s out of the way. But why do you care, hm?

“So, where do you go for drinks, usually?” Javi unabashedly looks into your eyes now.

“Wherever my friends want to go. Lots of small jazz bars these days. They’re pretty cool.”

“Uh huh. So no one would mind if I… if we go out for drinks sometime?” Your heart races a million times per second but to your dismay, he catches himself and clears his throat. “To talk about work, of course.”

“No, of course.” You bite your lip. You wouldn’t mind if he asked you not for work, but let’s be realistic here. He’s your boss now, technically. That’d be inappropriate.

“That’s good.” Javi’s smile widens and you drink to hide your disappointment. Snap out of your daydreams, you remind yourself.

✧✧

You’re woken up in the afternoon by your phone’s non stop pings. You’re still adjusting your eyes to the sunlight seeping in through the curtains and stretching your body and the stream of notifications doesn’t slow down. Grabbing it from your nightstand, you begin to read.

25 messages from your friend Anya 3 from a private number 1 from an unsaved UK number 5 DM requests, 3 new follows, and 2 tagged pictures on Instagram

Not wanting to start conversations yet, despite your grogginess you decide to go for a swim. On the way to your pool, you see Damien in your gym on the Peloton. Why is he here? You don't remember him staying over last night. Not that you ever mind, but you simply can’t remember.

“Hey.” You slide open the glass door to greet him. “Have you been up long?”

“Sorry. I’ll reset this later,” he says. He knows that you’d said to never mess with your bike setup, but he really needs to get that workout in. “Like an hour or two ago. You?”

“Just now. Thought I’d swim to wake up. My head fucking hurts.”

“No shit. You drank like it was a frat party.”

Oh. So I ended up drinking, that’s why. “Come on. I don’t wanna swim alone.”

You’re floating on your back while Damien slurps a green juice poolside, already tired from his third workout of the day.

“How much did I drink last night?”

Damien shrugs. “I don’t remember how much I had either, so.”

You only remember staying at the party until there were only a handful of people left, at Óscar’s request. He introduced you to his Forces co-stars who were about your age, then to a blonde actress and current it girl named Elise who you’re used to seeing… everywhere and everyday online. Apparently she’s going to play the lead in Óscar and Javi’s movie.

“But we were fine walking home?”

“No, Óscar and uh… Javi? Burt Reynolds look alike? They drove us back.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” You feel mortified that they saw you in a state that you are not proud of right now, but at least you got home safe.

“Is he still coming today?”

“...who?”

Damien chuckled at you. “Javi. Is he still coming today?”

“What are you talking about?” You splash towards the edge and get up, frantically drying your hands to unlock your phone. The private number had to be his.

“I’ll be there at 4”, says the first text, received two hours ago. Then a picture of a Fleetwood Mac vinyl. Then “on my way”, less than an hour ago.

“He’s… on the way.” It’s already almost 4.

“Damn, you really were wasted,” Damien tsk’s.

You dry the rest of your body off while quickly typing a reply: “Can’t wait!” You open the rest of your notifications to see if there are more surprises waiting. The UK number is Óscar’s Forces co-star telling you how nice it was to meet you and that she couldn’t wait to see you again in Tokyo next week. So you guess you had agreed to go and have to start planning your travels. Elise tagged you on Instagram, a picture of you sandwiched in between Javi and Óscar. You remember wrapping your arms around Óscar when Javi photobombed you, his face buried into your hair. You can still recall his cinnamon and cigarette scent.

More of your memories surface once you scroll through pictures from last night. You and Javi were checking out Mira’s jukebox when you told him that you have no idea how to set up yours. Mira said Óscar gave it to her as a housewarming gift; you share that in common with her. Javi immediately offered to set it up for you, and then Óscar made fun of him for fucking up a car audio setup years and years ago. Javi pointed to one of the plates inside and asked if you’ve ever listened to Fleetwood Mac. “Just the Rumours album,” you told him. “I don’t have it, though.”

You remember struggling to zip up your jacket before Javi’s warm hands with long and thick fingers helped you, cackling when he said something about your fuzzy shoes (“they look like that politician’s hair”), passing out on the leather backseat of a very comfortable car…

✧

THE NIGHT BEFORE

Javi slams the car door shut as he settles in on the passenger seat next to Óscar.

“She got up safe?”

“Yeah, all good.”

“She’s not usually like this. She wouldn’t be like this while working, I promise you that.”

Javi shrugs. “I’m not worried about that. We weren’t any better back then either.”

“We’ll send her the contract, then.” Óscar smiles satisfyingly.

“No need. I’ll bring it to her tomorrow.”

There’s a brief pause before Óscar speaks up again. “So… I know that you like to get close with the actresses–”

Javi’s demeanor changes entirely. “Okay, and? What are you accusing me of?” He never did anything without their consent (Javi makes sure of that 100%), and never when they’re actively working together. But no one needs to know the details, except him and his… participants.

Óscar’s taken aback by Javi’s sudden defensiveness. “Whoa, chill out, I’m not accusing anything.”

“We go to events together, maybe dinner. With their enthusiasm,” Javi states curtly.

“That’s all, really? Come on, man to man,” Óscar is teasing him now. It’s amusing seeing Javi pissed off, it’s a rare occurrence. Óscar knows he’s not slimy, and it’s not like he never had his own share of fun before settling down.

Javi rolls his eyes instead of giving a verbal answer. Whatever.

“Don’t bring her into it, not that I think you would, is what I was going to say. Just do Elise.” Óscar says calmly. “I appreciate you making friends with her. That’s all.”

He doesn’t want to do Elise, but whatever. It’s not like he’s interested in you like that… isn’t he? “Yeah. Sure.”

“I promised her parents I’d take care of her. Would appreciate your help.”

Not my problem.

✧

Javi replays the conversation he had with Óscar last night after he dropped you off. Usually it had to take so much more to get under his skin, but his questioning bugged Javi. Is it wrong to have fun when the world is his oyster? When everyone involved are adults who know what they’re doing? It’s not exactly unprofessional… he doesn’t do it on the job. And really, half the time it was purely platonic. Sometimes he just needed a friend to go as his arm candy. What else should he do, hire an escort? Such a fuss having to worry about discretion when he knows people he could trust, people already familiar with the industry.

And the other half… Well, it wasn’t always his proposition either, it’s a modern world where women can also do whatever they want, with whoever they want. You included. But would you want that, with him? Javi’s aware he’s out of your league, and not only that, he begrudgingly admits to himself that Óscar has a good point after all. He’s a nice, responsible, respectable guy. From his best friend’s perspective, it’s unthinkable.

But he knows now that he likes looking at you, talking to you. And he doesn’t want to only interact with you within the confines of work. Is this work, like he told Óscar? He doesn’t think so. But no one has to know.

You’re on your back on the carpet, silently humming the tune of Songbird. You’re bliss personified, and he can’t help but to smile at the scene: your closed eyes, the content look on your face, your feet softly tapping to the beat, and the pink sunset washing down on you through the glass roof-slash-window of your sunroom. He has to admit - it’s impressive, and he’s envious. A floor-to-ceiling glass-covered corner taking up ⅓ of your apartment, it has a massive TV, a projector, the jukebox he offered to set up, a shelf filled with books on the left side of the door and another filled with movies on the right side. A huge velvet pink couch takes up the space, and there’s a small sliding part of the glass ceiling that could open to allow you fresh air when you need it. You told him that you would just lay here on rainy days, finding the pitter patter calming to your ears.

✧

“Wow.” Javi gapes in wonder when he walks in.

“Yeah. It’s the centerpiece, this whole thing.”

“I didn’t know something like this could exist here. Wow.”

“Me neither. And you can see the entire park from here too. And the lights from Times Square if you’re on your tiptoes.”

His eyes scan every direction, taking in the view. Seeing the small rack of vinyl on the floor, he asks, “Who’s your favorite?”

“Taylor Swift.”

“No, seriously.”

“I’m serious.”

Javi silently looks at you as he takes in this information. Okay, that actually makes sense. You’re in that age range. Maybe it’s him who’s too old and out of touch. “Fine, who else?”

“Joni Mitchell. I discovered Blue a few months ago and I’m obsessed.” You sit down on the couch and grab a pillow to your chest, fingers playing with the tassels.

“Really? I thought you kids just stick to your own decade.”

“No! And, I’ve told you I like jazz too. I love the nostalgic feel, I think. The idea of it at least.”

“So… pop, folk, and jazz. Didn’t expect that.”

“How about you then, Mr. Oldie?”

“Watch who you’re calling old.” Javi jokingly warns as he squats and rifles through the stack. Not much yet, and he’s mentally taking note to buy you more.

“You are,” you say with a teasing smile.

“Guns n’ Roses. Elton John. ABBA. Prince. That’s my ultimate.”

“November Rain, yes.” You wrack your brain. “I love ABBA and Elton, but I’ve never heard of that last one. Prince?”

“Are you kidding me?!” Javi sounds legitimately surprised and offended. “Purple Rain?!”

“Nooooope. Sorry, Oldie.”

“I’m gonna get you his albums. You have to listen to him.”

You snicker. You find his exasperation funny. You don’t think someone could be so passionate about anyone having not heard their favorite artist. “Thanks, and… sure, if you’ll listen to Taylor Swift too.”

“I’m not into pop.” Javi scoffs as he gets to work.

“ABBA is pop.”

“It’s different.”

“She’s also country and folk-ish, trust me, I’ll make you a playlist. You’re so missing out.”

Javi sighs at you in defeat, but gladly so. Whatever makes you happy.

✧

You change the song and close your eyes again as you hum along to the song. “Baby, I get mystified by how this city screams your name…” The sky is quickly getting darker now and neither of you has bothered to turn on the lights, so it’s only him, you, the sparkling lights of the city, and the soft flicker of a scented candle. You look so beautiful in the twilight and your silk robe and he wants to–

You turn to him. “Are you bored?”

There’s a beat until Javi registers that you asked him a question. “No. No, just… enjoying it. This one’s nice.”

“I told you.” You smile.

“Are you gonna play me the whole record?”

“Hmm, no. Aren’t you in a rush? And this isn’t really my favorite. Just thought it fits the scene… New York and all. Who even says ‘record’ anymore?” You tease him again.

He doesn’t bother to come up with a comeback for that. You change the song to something jazzy about worshiping the altar of your hips, and he just stares, and stares, and stares… he thinks about your laugh at your own ignorance of him when you first met. Of you stretching your legs on that lounge chair. He was almost sure that Ava caught him staring. Your turtleneck that made your chest look full. Your enticing lips that you like biting in nervousness. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t spend that night scrolling your Instagram feed just to ogle you. He couldn’t possibly make a move now after what Óscar said to him in the car last night, it’d be too obvious to Óscar and not to mention disrespectful, but he could enjoy looking at you in every kind of outfit that makes you look even more gorgeous (even in a silly snowsuit) whenever he wants and no one would have to know.

After he went home last night he kept thinking of your tight outfit and how it showed off the outline of your figure. He almost lost his composure when you bent over the kitchen island and he got an eyeful of your behind. Your elegant neck and cleavage were on full display to him when you tossed your hair over your shoulder, and he didn’t think he even had the decency to look away. And he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t try to find the guy that you were with on your profile, just to figure out your type… to no success. You must have scrubbed him clean. As he deserves.

In just a few short days, he could certainly say that his life has changed. Nothing prepared him for you to literally walk into his life. For the first time in years, he feels nervous talking to someone. One of the reasons being you’re practically half his age, and that’s uncharted territory for him. He’s gone for younger, but not this much younger. Would you find him too old and gross? Or worse, creepy? He likes to think no. You don’t seem like you’re bothered by any of it… so far. If anything, he’s almost certain you checked him out too last night, and a few times today… or maybe his aging mind is just playing tricks on him to make him feel better and less desperate. That, or the alcohol.

An hour passes by, the room now in almost total darkness, as you both quietly listen to Joni’s croons and your occasional hums. He feels a tap on his foot by the end of a Christmas carol rendition that brings him out of his thoughts to you mouthing that this is it, your favorite. He can’t help but notice that you have a faraway look in your eyes as you stare up at the glass ceiling, perhaps tinged with longing, throughout the song. Just right after it’s finished, you sit up and turn it off.

Javi waits for a few moments before he breaks the silence. “How about we order some food, and watch a movie?”

You smile. “Javi, you’re gonna miss your plane.”

✧✧✧

Taglist: @just-here-for-the-moment@dontshouthisnamelikehesathing@beaucannon@sherala007@littlemisspascal@harriedandharassed@wardenparker@queridopascal @saintcooper @lovesbiggerthanpride@druigswh0ree@peaches-roses-sins@thereisaplaceintheheart@spideysimpossiblegirl @hannannannannannah

#fic: indiscreet #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #tuwomt #the unbearable weight of massive talent #javi gutierrez fanfiction #javi g fanfiction #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi g x reader #javi g x you #the bubble #pedrostories #hollywood au

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rcksmith · 3 years

Text

Spring breeze — Spencer Reid

Sumarry: Spencer never thought about falling in love with someone, but he certainly didn't expect that he would fall in love with Gideon's daughter. — season 3 —

Part.2 Part.3 Part.4

A/N: I am marathoning Criminal Minds again and I can not express how much I loved the interaction of Gideon and Spencer!! So this idea came as an epiphany, and I love the conception of love at first sight. Maybe this becomes a serie...

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple:Spencer Reid/Gideon's daughter!reader.

Warnings: nothing, just very fluff.

— — — — —

Something was different. Maybe it was the way the sun's rays cascaded down in an atypical way, maybe it was the breeze that carried a more lyrical intonation on its back, or maybe it was just the Earth that was adorned by an ethereal veil. Spencer didn't know how to point out what was really different, but he felt in his soul that something in the hemisphere had changed.

At first, when he took the subway to work, Spencer thought it was just an ephemeral sensation, just like those seconds when you feel the breath of the breeze more cold. But it didn't. The sensation accompanied him to work, to the plane, to the case, it stuck to him like a tattoo and Reid found himself looking around for answers that did not exist physically.

He considered all the theories that were possible to explain that destabilization in his subtly balanced world. But he found none.

“Are you feeling anything different today?” That's what he asked Morgan.

Derek shrugged, finishing packing up at the police station so they could go back to Quantico.

“No.” Then he looked Reid whit his obsidian eyes “Is something bothering you? Is the Genie feeling any peturbation in the Force? ”

Spencer chuckled through his nose at the Star Wars joke, but just shook his head in a 'No'. And the conversation died there. How could he explain something that even he didn't understand?

Trying to ignore the way his heart was beating fast, for no reason, in anticipation of something Spencer himself was unaware of, he wondered how long he was going to have that sensation. The feeling of euphoria, the taste of something, there was something exciting in the air, almost angelic.

But how long was that going to accompany him? One day? One week? Whole life? For the first time, Spencer didn't have the answer. And that was disconcerting.

When BAU's glass doors opened for agents to settle on their desks and Hotch and Gideon go to their respective offeces, a wave of icy breeze from the DC air reverberated through the enclosure. Spencer can see that Morgan shrugged in the wind, Emily looke for a coat in the black suitcase, but his own body didn't seem to be hit by the same breeze. For Reid, it had been a caustic, lyrical, almost spring, wave that carried the promise of something extraordinary on back. Almost divine.

In that split second, in a time as short as a blink, the feeling that his life would never be the same made him losing his breath. Spencer does not know what attracted his gaze to the BAU door, nor what made his whole body turn in that direction, like a magnet, like a wanderer in the desert who finds his Oasis. But he had been attracted, and as soon as a female hand pushed through the glass door and her figure came into view, Spencer understood the extraordinary thing that him heart was beating for in anticipation.

You.

It was as if the universe had been preparing him all day for that moment. As if the body itself tried to prepare it. Because if Spencer hadn't fell those feelings of euphoria all day, he would have drowned in his own reactions to seeing you.

In a burst, like a violin string popping, Reid understood what was different about the hemisphere, because why the air was ethereal, because why the night felt like poetry, and why the moon whispered swears of love. In that moment, Spencer understood the mysteries of the world, unraveled the riddles of life, drank from the wisdom of The Oracle of ancient Greece. In an instant, watching you enter, Spencer understood the reason for his life.

In an instant.

The world shuddered in slow motion, capturing all your movements, all your graceful gait, all your glory. An elegant black dress with thin straps modeled your body in an arcane, almost divine way, your legs were supported on black high heels, making your walk seem like a glide of honey.

You were not beautiful. You are gorgeous. You shone. Sparkled.

And, like an atrocious wave that broke over Reid and pulled him into the sea, that whole feeling that stuck with him all day came to accompany the female figure. Following in your footsteps like the tail of a long dress.

Spencer was sure that his life would never be the same.

They hadn't even sat at their tables when you showed up. Like the muse that came out of an action movie. And when you got close enough to attract the attention of Emily and Morgan, whose Derek opened his mouth when he noticed the female figure that was the personification of Female Fatal, Spencer felt himself letting out the breath he didn't even know he was holding. He knew that anyone with eyes and a little common sense would notice how overwhelmingly beautiful you were, so when Morgan turned his body fully towards you, Reid was not surprised.

“Hi." Your voice, to Reid, had a floral intonation “Do you guys know where I can find Jason?”

When his eyes met yours, Spencer felt his breath being stolen from him once again. Usually, girls like you didn't look twice at guys like him, Spencer knew that. Girls like you liked men like Morgan. Athletes, strong, Alpha Male. And because of that, it was an explosion in Reid's system when you took a few seconds longer in that eye contact and a delightful smile appeared on yours lips. As if you appreciate what you were seeing.

That was a shock. Was it true or was he misinterpreting the signs? Was him mind playing tricks on him, like the flickering shadows of furniture under the darkness and the flame of a candle? Spencer would not be able to say a word without stuttering at that moment even that him life depended on it. In fact, he was already starting to feel cheeks heating up. So he thanked any deities that might exist when Morgan and Emily responded to you and broke the eye contact between the two of you.

“Jason Gideon?” Morgan frowned slightly.

“He's in the office but...” But Emily couldn't finish the sentence before Gideon's voice came out over everyone's:

“Y/n?” It was in a tone that no one there had ever heard in Gideon. A sweet, loving intonation... paternal.

None of the three agents present there had time to express their thoughts in facial expressions before you said:

“Dad!”

Then the whole world took a turn and seemed to be terrified, making them feel as if they had been thrown out of the tenth-floor window. This time, Reid's eyes widened at the two friends, who also had puzzled expressions. Everyone knew that Gideon had a past, probably with divorces and children, a life he had left behind, but no one expected...that.

Perhaps Gideon's vision of a family was something that was only in the imagination, never something tangible. Until that moment. Until the most beautiful girl Reid had ever seen was the daughter of one of the men he respected most. Until him heart soared at alarming levels for him boss's daughter. Spencer had been in trouble before when it came to matters of the heart, but the trouble gained a position in the top 3.

“What are you doing here?” A rare smile appeared on Gideon's face, his brow slightly furrowed.

“We were going to dinner today, remember? In that new Japanese restaurant.” Your tone of voice was not resentful or hurt by the situation that was explicit there.

The life of a BAU agent take many things, some with a more atrocious force than others, and one of them was the availability of hours. commitments that count on presence.

“I totally forgot, I'm sorry.” Gideon's voice was always calm and controlled, he managed to speak from the most tender emotions to the most heinous crimes with a peaceful intonation. But to perceive traces of parental love was new. “The case was very complicated, my cell phone died and...”

“It's okay, Dad.” You smiled, making a casual gesture with your hand “I thought this happened, but I thinking it best to come here to see if everything was okay instead of waiting until tomorrow.”

Your smile, despite being the simple one, was the brightest for Spencer.

Gideon still had a fatherly look and a chaste and grateful smile when he turned to the other agents who were still puzzled.

“Y/n, these are agents Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss and Dr. Spencer Reid.” Jason introduced them to you “Guys, this is my daughter, Y/n.”

“Is a pleasure.” You smiled genuinely at them.

“I had no idea that you had a daughter!” Emily gave a low, slightly bewildered laugh that also made you laugh.

“Everybody says that.” You looked at your father again, having fun.

“I'm just going to go over some reports with Hotcher before I leave.” Gideon kept a chaste smile. “Why don't you wait here and then let's go get something to eat?”

“Of course, no problem, Dad.” You agreed, adjusting the thin shoulder bag that was on your shoulder.

As Jason went up to Hotcher's office, you turned to the agents again, with a gentle smile on your face.

“My dad said great things about you.” Emily smiled at your statement.

"I'm still chocked ." She laughed, and Morgan added:

“ I really need to know...” he looked around, in a playful suspense “Is Gideon really that serious outside the FBI?”

You laughed “Oh no! Definitely not.”

So you reached for your phone in the litlle bag, hunting for a photo on it and showing it to the three agents. It was a recent photograph where you and Gideon had their faces painted in easy ink. You had a skeleton mouth made with white and black paint, and Jason had a pink glitter butterfly covering his left cheek. You two were laughing in the photo.

Morgan was the one who let out a loud, dripping laugh, with a few tears accumulating in the corners of his eyes.

“How is this possible?” Morgan was trying to catch the air.

“It was at the last Halloween, he and I bet that whoever lost in the snooker that day would have to paint a butterfly on their face.” You laughed.

“And did he lose?” Spencer found a voice for it, his mind failing to process the image of Gideon losing any game.

“I have my suspicions that he let me win” You joked “But I enjoyed the victory just the same.”

The conversation was light after that, Spencer refrained from much of the dialogue, a little fearful that you could hear him heart beating loudly whenever you smile in his direction. As the minutes passed, Derek and Emily had to go back to their duties and finish their reports, while you were sitting in one of the chairs at an empty table.

It was one of those moments when Reid tried to focus on the files in front of him to exorcise what was going on around him. Paperwork had always brought the lull needed to make Spencer meditate. It was almost like relaxation. But in moments like this, when something in the environment around him pulled his attention so much, he stayed on the same page for long minutes.

That must be why he didn't hear the wheels on your chair approach, and he didn't even notice that you were so close until you said:

“Are you really a doctor?” Your voice was low, soft, as if you didn't want to disturb the other agents who were working.

Spencer turned his head towards you, only to find the modern personification of what would be the Athena de Troia. You were close, not close enough to touch, but close enough that he could smell your perfume. You smelled like the night, the excitement of nights and the brightness of the stars. And if Spencer looked deeper into yours eyes, he would sure they contained shine moonlight.

He swallowed, the mania for blinking compulsively returning a little.

“A-ahm yes. Not really a doctor, but m-my 3 Phd’s make me a doctor.”

He might be mistaken, but the smile that spread across your face was not just friendly, it wasn't curious, it was… delighted. As if the roles were reversed and he was the most fascinating thing in that room, not you.

The glow that was adorned in yours eyes had something lyrical, ethereal, wonderful. As if the brightness of all the galaxies were inhabiting your irises, moving in your orbit. At that moment, Spencer was deeply grateful to have eidetic memory, because 10 years from now he could still remember how you looked like a muse over there. DC night came in through the big glass windows, and if Reid had to describe that moment with the five senses, he would say that the world had turned the light down to a rose tone, the smell was heaven and your smile promised to contain wonders of the world.

Holy Mother of God, you are so, so beautiful!

“My dad said there was a genius on the team.” You said, your attention on him is always tender, adoreble. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

Your perfume invaded him sense of smell once again, and he felt his heart beat faster once more. Spencer would have told you all the secrets in the world if you asked. He would have told all own secrets.

“No way.” He sat back in his chair to look at you better, oblivious to the exchange of looks that Emily and Morgan gave.

You rested your arms on Spencer's table, the chair next to his.

“You never thought of being like... the wizard Doctor Strange?” You hoped that Spencer knew Marvel “Before he was a magician, of course. But why didn't you want to be a surgeon or something?” You laughed “There is a phrase him says: I have a photographic memory and this is what made me ..."

“ ‘Get my diploma and doctorate at the same time’ " Spencer completed you, laughing softly “I know the HQs. Did you know that the Doctor Strange character was created during the Silver Age of American comics to bring a different type of character and mystical themes to Marvel Comics? It him has an intellectual coefficient close to 177 points and I have… ”

The more he rambled, the more a stunning smile spread across your face. As if you were enchanted with him. And you were. Everyone was noticing the way Spencer seemed to have you curled up on his finger, your eyes sparkling and a silly smile twinkling on your face, paying attention to every word he said. It was an overwhelmingly lovely sight to behold.

But just as everything had a time, an hourglass, your time had reached the last grain of sand.

“All right, Y/n.” Gideon went down the stairs, cutting the end of Reid's sentence “Ready?”

You stood up, agreeing with your father and smoothing the dress. When you put your hands on the chair, ready to take it back to place, you turned to Spencer once again:

“I'm going to bring my dad to BAU tomorrow, do you think me and you can meting and you give me the answer to the question tomorrow?” Your smile was able to light up the whole of Washington.

“S-sure!” Spencer's voice went up more high notes than he would like to admit.

And, even when you left, even when Morgan and Emily jokes him about it, and even when he finally lay down on his own bed, you were still the only thing that occupied Spencer's mind.

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real-sotenbori-hours · 3 years

Note

Hello there 💖 Love your writing and just finished yakuza 0, and if you're up for it, I'm in the mood for something different. I love Majima, but I'm craving drama atm. What if he and his badass beauty of a s/o are getting it on and he calls Makoto's name by mistake? New bae is sweet, makes his lunches, but is NO Makoto! How shook is she? Can the couple reconcile or is that the deal breaker?

This is a terrific prompt... I’ve been dealing with some roller coaster emotions as of late so I appreciate a drama req. Pls be patient and I’d love to write this. TYSM for requesting <3

Mistaken Makoto

Reader is Female

Mild smut, angst, mentions of trauma

***WARNING: YAKUZA 0 SPOILERS***

What a day. If she didn't stay and help up, who would?It had been this way all week, and Y/N had only realized how emotionally and physically drained she truly was at the end of it all, which couldn't be more ideal because nothing is worse than realizing how thanklessly overworked one is in the very midst of the issue itself. Thankfully she now had a couple of days off to decompress and relax and the first things on her mind were a quick snack, a cup of tea and hopefully some pleasures of the flesh with her all too irresistible man. She desperately needed some bliss to tear her from her incredibly demanding lack of work/life balance. Good thing her man was more than understanding.

They didn't reside together, but Majima's flat was a lot closer (and fancier) than her place, so she typically crashed there in the evenings especially after late work days. Her apartment was more of a storage unit for her belongings and less urgently needed clothes as she usually spent her nights at his place. Though he'd been pushing the idea of moving in together for months, it was just so much work to pack her stuff and close out her lease and with her long hours as of late, she didn't have the energy to seal this lingering loose end. She planned on it, but something else held her back from making it official. She hadn't even had the time to analyze her trepidation, it was just there, and something far more easily avoided. Money wasn't an issue, so she couldn't complain. She'd get around to it soon enough.

It was a damp, sultry evening... an hours' long rain had set a sexy mist in the air and with the low lights of Kamurocho illuminating her quick and safe walk home, she felt like a seductive evening at home was just what the doctor ordered. Majima had texted her only a couple hours prior, hinting at the same theme as he'd just settled some big work things and wanted to relax. He'd offered a lovely night on the town but because Y/N was stuck at work just a little later than usual, a hot night at home seemed like the move. He'd warned that he was settling in for a nap, and to wake him when she arrived.

Her plan was to forego the food and tea, strip down and slip into bed with him... he loved being awakened by her eager warmth.

After locking the door, she dropped her coat and shimmied out of each of her professional garments, slowly sauntering into the bedroom from which only a dim light from the bathroom shone due to the door being slightly ajar.

What a marvel --- his back was to her, his irezumi slightly visible in the dim light and partial obscurity of blanket. No matter how many times she'd seen it wet, dry, slightly irritated from her nails raking its flesh, it still made her skin tingle. She loved Majima Goro through and through and was willing to do anything for him. He treated her like a Queen and still offered her the world if she needed anything. He respected her independence, always offered to support her if she so desired, and was in turn endlessly grateful for her love and commitment to him. Many a time she wondered how in the fuck that she was The One to tame a yakuza boss... but she had. It was so natural and uncomplicated, she never batted an eye. It was sparks in the air the first time they met and every day and night since.

By the time she reached the bed, she was beautifully nude and ready. As much as she needed him and his attentions, she wanted to at least begin by lavishing him with attention while rousing him from his slumber. It drove him crazy.

After slipping beneath the linens, pressed against him, she kissed his shoulder, slowly and deliberately and then made her way down the back of his arm while slipping her hand along his back and over his hip, gripping the bone. He groaned, rolling on his back as she snuck up to his ear.

"Mmmm, I'm home...."

No further words necessary, he wrapped his arms around her as she straddled him, kissing and biting his lobe, down his neck, stopping to suck along his clavicle. His hands found their way to her hips as he gripped them and urged them to rock back and forth, but she wanted to prolong it. She needed to tease a little.

His eye remained closed, his breathing grew heavier as he gripped her hips hard enough to bruise. She adored it.

Leaning in to kiss his neck, she traveled up to his lips, leaving quick and desperate pecks along them before sinking herself on him. She rubbed his pecs delicately before leaning back and gripping his thighs, preparing to ride him. Just as she'd begun to establish a momentum, his hands gripped her forearms, his eye still shut tightly, lips parted. She raised herself, holding steady, slowly sinking down on him again just as he moaned... "I've missed you..."

She loved it when he mused in the throes of it. She bounced a few times, leaning in to kiss him again, harder, taking his bottom lip and kissing his chin... leaning in further to whisper, "I've missed you too..."

He slid his hand up the back of her neck, gripping and keeping her close. He turns his head, eye still screwed tightly shut as he kisses her cheek. She rolls her hips again. He rubs his lips along her lobe, sighing.

"Mmmm..."

She slams her hips harder, urging him to chase his release as he continues to keep her pinned to him, gritting his teeth. She loves his scent, his sweat, she wants to lap up every bit of it.

"....Mmmma..."

She bites at his clavicle, sucking tenderly as she continues pumping him with her entire body, just wanting to make him feel so good for no reason but adoration and appreciation for him... She just wants to hear him moan and watch his face contort as he fully surrenders.

She sits up, one last slam as she tightens herself around him. She descends, pulsing on him, cradling his head as his lips part one more time. He exhales, groaning.

"....Makoto...."

Screeeeeeeeeeech.

Y/N's heart, stomach, hell, fucking everything dropped. Without a second thought, she pressed her hands on each side of her along the bed and dismantled herself, rising.

His eye flew open, his head frantically turning, searching for his girlfriend, who was promptly planning on redressing and bolting before the tears could burst out of her into every direction. What the fuck?!

"Oy!" He shouts, sitting up, still registering.

She's already made it out of the bedroom, picking up every piece of her clothing trail and hurriedly putting them back on with the urgency of a burning building.

She's grabbing her bag off of the counter as he barges into the kitchen, wrapped in the linens. "OY! Where the hell ya think yer goin'?"

She takes a deep breath and turns around to face him, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm leaving. Fuck off."

"What in the hell for? What's the matter?!"

ARE YOU SERIOUS.

She steps forward and shoves him with a single, open hand. Bag still in her other hand. "FOR CALLING ME 'MAKOTO' WHILE I'M FUCKING ON TOP OF YOU. ARE YOU FUCKING OUT OF YOUR MIND?!"

He catches himself, grabbing the counter and throws his head in his other hand. "Jesus Christ, I'm a little drunk, babe. I'm sorry..."

"Yeah, great. Well, you can be sorry alone. I'm going home."

"Nah c'mon don't be like that, it was a mistake, I love ya and ya know that, don'tcha?"

"You know honestly, I'm not sure. If you're thinking of her while I'm giving it to you, giving you my fucking body, my affection, my time, I think the mistake is my being in this entire fucking equation. I must be insane. I knew there was a reason I wasn't ready to move out of my place yet...."

"Nah babe it's not like that, I swear. I'm really sorry, I know that didn't feel good but I was in such a deep sleep I really wasn't thinkin---"

"---ABOUT ME. You were thinking of another woman. While I'm here. Are you serious? Do you have any idea how much I love you, how you might as well have shoved your tanto straight into my chest? That would've felt better than to hear another woman's name come out of your fucking mouth..."

Majima realized this wasn't a conversation he could charm his way out of. All of the times he came home battered, bruised and bleeding? Yeah after a few minutes of patching, he could calm her down. All of the times he was stuck at the office late and hadn't eaten in hours, she'd bring him something home cooked, knowing full well that none of his favorite shops were open. She'd beg him to come and get some sleep but he'd assure her that he'd get it done and be fine. She'd take it all in stride, this was the man she loved, it was par for the course.

But being called another woman's name, one that held such a crushing significance in his life? Nah.

"...I'm leaving. I need space. Leave me alone for a few days." His eye flew open as he nearly tripped over the blanket, dashing to her and grabbing her arms.

He knelt, looking up at her pleadingly.

"Y/N, baby, please. Please. Yer everythin' ta me. Please don't go..."

She sighed, too tired to even fight the tears. She let them roll.

"I can't do this, Goro. Maybe you love me, but obviously I'm not everything to you. Maybe it's unfair for me to demand to be, but it's what you are to me, and I can't compromise. I won't find myself in another love in which my feelings aren't matched."

"They are matched, babe. Please just stay so we can talk about it. If ya don't wanna stay after that, fine, but please gimme a minute to explain..."

"Goro, what's there to explain? If she's still in such a dominant place in your mind, then what's left for me? I can't share your affection like that. This isn't gonna work. Am I supposed to get over it and hope it doesn't happen again? What do you take me for?"

He choked, taking a deep breath. He dropped the Kansai-ben.

He looked up at her slowly, his face changing, his voice low and serious."I cared a lot for her. I haven't spoken with her in almost 20 years. There is nothing there. Sometimes I'm plagued with nightmares from the events of those years. Between my captivity and the situation in which I met her. I wish her nothing but the best. I have moved on since then, clearly. She only means anything to me because she is a good person. I'm not in love with her, I'm in love with you, and only you."

Y/N swallowed hard, taking his words into consideration... soothed but still feeling an uneasiness.

"You said her name while you were balls deep inside me. How are you going to explain that away? Be fucking honest with me. You have one minute."

"Makoto and I were never physically intimate! She isn't an ex-girlfriend or former love or anything like that! It was an honest mistake, it had nothing to do with the fact that you and I were in the middle of it, okay? I was just waking up, babe..."

"You were conscious. You grabbed me, you kissed me..."

"My mind was still out of it. Come on, I'm telling you the truth. I love you, Y/N. I love you like crazy. Makoto has absolutely nothing to do with my life now. I was just having a fucked-up dream."

Y/N set her bag down and draped her arms around him lazily as he hugged her hips.

"Look, I don't know how much I ever told you about it but here's the brakes: I was told to kill her and if I did, I'd be let back into the family, which was all I wanted at the time. You know all about my Grand days and that tiny apartment and the fact that all I did was run a cabaret club and get followed everywhere I went and my direct boss at the time would just slap me around like a fucking puppy and throw wrenches in everything I did, right?"

She nodded.

"I was told that I'd be in good standing and that I'd get my life back if I did my first hit. I was supposed to take out some ruthless scumbag that trafficked women. It was a no-brainer. I hunt my target down only to find that this ruthless scumbag was a blind woman who had no idea why in the fuck anyone would be after her. You can only imagine my confusion and why I did not kill her. But I was then of course risking worse things than death by keeping her alive and hidden away, all the while lying to my boss. Once he wised up, he tried to kill me, her and the guy she worked for at the time who was a solid guy. I watched him die. I got roughed up time and again, had to find her, make sure they didn't kill her. She was totally blameless and a survivor of the trafficking itself. This woman went through so much and still never batted an eye at her poor hand of cards. Yes, I wound up caring for her very deeply and after all was said and done, I could've told her how I felt, maybe she felt the same, who knows. Instead, I wanted her to be happy and to have nothing to do with me... because at the time, I only created more and more enemies as I climbed the ladder and I knew I couldn't keep her safe forever. I knew that at that time in my life, I had to focus on where I was going, I couldn't drag an innocent person into my mess of a life just because I had feelings for her. I did what I thought was the right thing then and I stand by it now... and where I'm at now, finally, is a place in which I can finally be with the woman I love -- you -- and I don't have to keep you away. I'm not climbing anymore... I'm no longer a real target and neither is anyone close to me."

Y/N nodded again, feeling relieved... but sad. So sad. Sad for being angry at him and sad for his loss... she had no idea the extent of what Makoto was to him and had only assumed the usual out of fear of bringing up such a heavy conversation... but she was glad to finally have it all out in the open.

"Alright... I know I shouldn't ask this but I need to..."

"Anything, babe. What do you want to know?"

"Do you wish you had been with her anyway? I know comparing myself to her is nonsensical but---"

"---Could I love you like I did her?"

"Yes."

"...No. Because the way I felt for her is different. You have to understand, I had to fight dozens and I mean dozens of men to protect her. She kept getting nabbed, I'd have to fight my way through buildings full of armed men to get her out alive. She got shot and almost died. I thought she had at first. It looked grim. So I guess in a way, the way I felt for her then is that I just wanted to protect the only truly good person I ever knew in my life... at that point. How do I feel about her now? I just hope she's happy... and I believe she is."

"You said you haven't spoken to her in 20 years?"

"That's a half truth. When we went through all that shit, she was blind. She never knew what I looked like, she only knew my voice. Years later I ended up in Sotenbori tying up some loose ends that led me to her shop and she didn't realize it was me, telling a perfect stranger how she was happily married with a kid. I was glad to hear it, you know? That was it. I just hope her life now is great because the first half wasn't, you know what I mean? That's it."

Y/N closed her eyes tightly and breathed in slowly, trying to make sense of her emotional state.

"Goro-kun..."

He looked up for the first time in what felt like forever.

"Y/N-chan?"

She sighed once again and carded her fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends, trying to stifle a laugh. Though she was still mildly hurt, the burn of her fury had subsided... she was grateful to have gotten a full discourse out of him and now felt almost foolish for being so (understandably) upset. She all but worshiped this man... he has always been good to her, holding her up on a pedestal, treating her with the respect and care that one only does when they truly and deeply... love and care for another.

She realized it's not a competition, Makoto wasn't "some other woman" or even a threat to her... she was a member of his past, a traumatic and murky one at that. She realized in that moment that it's okay that Majima loved another woman (and more, of course) before her... look at him.

But in this moment for a time before and likely to come, Majima Goro is hers and only hers. He did the right and likely painful thing by scratching at the scab to let her in, to tell her what happened and how it applies to his life now... to give her a perspective on her importance to him now, in comparison to what he's endured. It's a scab because the events of his past never truly heal or leave his psyche... he's just learned to live with and in spite of them, in many thanks to her.

Her unconditional love keeps him grounded, her presence adds to his purpose and for her, the same.

She was indescribably appreciative that the gave her a part of him in his honesty... and she would never take it for granted again. Walking out the door in anger would be, in her eyes, taking it for granted.

He nuzzled his face against her stomach, cradling her hips, giving her all the time she needed to cycle through her thoughts and feelings. God, what a man.

She gripped his chin and pulled him up to his feet, slipping an arm around him, re-tucking the blanket around his hips.

"Let's go to sleep... and bring back the Kansai-ben. I miss it already."

He laughed his usual insane, multi-octave laugh and grabbed her face, kissing her lips, nose, cheek and forehead before ripping the blanket off of him, wrapping it around her and scooping her up, carrying her back to the bedroom.

#majima goro #majima goro x reader #goro majima x reader #majima goro smut #goro majima smut #majima goro angst #goro majima angst #yakuza #yakuza 0 #yakuza kiwami #yakuza kiwami 2

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reyescarlos · 3 years

Text

all through the night || a tarlos fic

❄️ @911giftexchange fic for @buckieys ❄️

happy holidays, sy! i'm wishing you a wonderful and prosperous new year. i hope this fic helps to usher in 2021 right!

word count: 5.2k || read on ao3

All through the night I'll be awake and I'll be with you All through the night This precious time when time is new

When Carlos envisioned winter in New York, his elaborate fantasies had somehow managed to eclipse the reality of what it might actually entail. He had enjoyed his brief stay, taking in the window displays along Fifth Avenue. It had long since been something he wanted to see for himself and the storefronts had more than delivered. But on the flipside of such a picturesque scene has come the downside of what heavy amounts of snow could mean.

It’s why he finds himself now planted in a too hard seat at JFK Airport, wondering how he’ll possibly fill his time now that his flight has been delayed until morning. Outside the blizzard rages on with no real end in sight and Carlos mulls over the merits of his decision to leave Texas in the New Year and make this city his home. This is a far cry from Austin. He’d once thought winter temperatures there could be bad but it’s been nothing compared to the arctic blast in the North.

He tries to keep busy with a book but his attention is split between the words before him and the cute guy across from him frantically digging inside his backpack, a phone teetering dangerously on his knee.

“God, where is that stupid thing,” the man mumbles to himself. “Come on charger, where are you?”

Carlos looks away, burying his head in his book to hide the smile that breaks out on his face. The guy is obviously peeved but Carlos can’t help but to find his muttering endearing. After another moment of fruitless searching on the stranger’s end, Carlos takes mercy on him.

“Here, you can borrow mine,” he says, unzipping his own backpack and fishing out his charger.

The man sighs in relief. “Thank you. I really appreciate it,” he replies, reaching over and taking the cord from Carlos.

He settles back and plugs it into the wall, the screen lighting up a moment later. Carlos smiles politely and gets back to reading, only to be interrupted.

“So, I take it you’re heading down to visit family before the new year comes, huh?” the stranger says.

Carlos looks up from his book, head tilting slightly. It hadn’t been expecting the man to strike up a conversation.

“Sorry, awkward small talk. I’ll let you get back to it,” he says, face scrunching as he gestures to the book in Carlos’ hands.

Carlos waves him off, bookmarking his page and closing it.

“No worries. We’re here all night so...plenty of time for that.” He licks his lips and drums his fingers against the front. “To answer your question though, no. Austin is actually my home so I’m just heading back.”

“Oh, cool. I’m going to see my dad. I thought he’d want to do the whole white Christmas, New York for the New Year thing but ever since he moved down to Austin last year, I think he’s gotten spoiled by the warmer weather.”

The man looks out of the window where the snow is swirling so heavily it’s hard to even see the sky or planes sitting idly on the tarmac.

“Guess I can’t exactly blame him.”

Carlos laughs. “It’s disgustingly cold here and all of that,” he says, gesturing to the storm, “doesn’t help. I don’t know how you guys manage.”

“You get used to it. I’ve only ever grown up with it so while I like to complain about the snow at times, I can’t picture this time of year without it. It’s been a few years since it’s been this bad though, I’ll admit.”

Carlos smiles a bit, looking out of the window briefly. “This is actually my first time experiencing snow. And the city was gracious enough to give me a blizzard to commemorate.”

The man smiles at this thoughtfully. He sits up, stretching his hand out across the aisle towards Carlos.

“I’m TK, by the way.”

Carlos touches his fingertips to his forehead before shaking TK’s hand.

“God, my mother would be so ashamed of my manners right now,” he laughs. “I’m Carlos. It’s nice to meet you.”

He lets go, his palm feeling extremely warm from TK’s touch. TK smiles at him, a slow grin that ultimately reveals his teeth. This man is very good looking, there’s no denying that. He’s got an easy way about him that makes Carlos feel comfortable in his presence as if they’re old friends catching up and not perfectly good strangers meeting for the first time.

TK’s phone buzzes, stealing his attention and Carlos is all too grateful for it. TK types something on the device for a few seconds before pausing.

“Sorry, excuse me for a second,” he says, putting his phone to his ear.

Carlos nods and gestures for him to go for it.

“Hey, Dad. I—,” TK starts out but stops short as his father speaks. “I bet it’s all over the news but I’m alright. Not looking forward to being stuck here overnight but,” he continues, his eyes landing on Carlos and away so quickly Carlos is sure he’s imagined it. “I guess there are worse ways to be trapped for a few hours.”

Carlos looks away then, cracking open his book again to keep himself occupied while TK chats with his father. He tries not to dwell heavily on TK’s look or what the implications of that glance could mean. It could’ve been a coincidence and nothing more. All the same, it doesn’t make his heart race any less to think that TK feels a spark too.

TK ends the call with a sigh, stretching out his legs before bouncing one of them. The gesture is distracting but endearing. For the second time, Carlos closes his book, this time putting it back into his bag for good as TK speaks to him again.

“Are you hungry? I could go for a bite.”

“I could eat,” Carlos says. He rises from his seat as TK does, both men dragging their carry-ons along with them.

They follow the winding path down from their gate, Carlos taking notice of all the fellow flyers now forced to wait out the storm. Some have taken to stretching out on the ground, laying on top of jackets like makeshift sleeping bags, others keeping busy with phones and tablets, hunched over in chairs.

Carlos isn’t looking forward to the uncomfortable sleep he’ll have tonight but as he looks over at TK, he wonders just how much rest he’ll actually manage to get. The guy is already proving himself to be a good way to pass the time and Carlos can’t say he wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to keep chatting with him.

As they approach the cluster of food stands, TK groans and it’s easy to see why. Many of the shops are already closed, no doubt the employees hurrying home before the worst of the storm kicked in. All that’s available now is Cinnabon but Carlos supposes that can suffice as dinner.

TK orders a hot chocolate and a classic roll while Carlos opts for a cold brew in addition to a roll as well. TK eyes the drink with raised brows.

“I’m fully committing to the cause of being awake until we board, apparently,” Carlos muses, pushing his straw through the lid and taking a sip. “Worth it.”

The two head to a nearby empty table, settling into their elevated seats before unloading their food. The scent coming off the baked goods is incredible and Carlos’ stomach suddenly feels desperate for a bite.

“So, Carlos, since we’ve nominated each other for the buddy system while we wait this storm out,” he jokes, “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

Carlos drums his fingers on the tabletop as he tries to decide what to share.

“Well, you already know that Austin is where I’m from but the whole reason I’m even here now is because I’m going to be moving to New York soon. I’ll be transferring next month.”

TK’s brows raise. “Seriously? That’s awesome. Do you mind if I ask what you do?”

“I’m a police officer. I’ve been with the Austin Police Department for a few years but I’ve been considering leaving Texas for a little while now and I’ve been exploring my options. For some reason my mind kept coming back to the idea of New York and I figured I should just take the chance and see what happens.”

TK laughs and shakes his head. “Oh man, well, we have something in common, more or less. I’m with the NYFD myself.”

Carlos holds up a hand. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re a firefighter?” he laughs.

TK puffs out his chest jokingly and nods with a grin on his face. “That’s right. Ladder 252.”

Carlos does his best to push the image of TK in uniform from mind but the picture is an appealing one. He can see it so clearly, the way he’d look in suspenders, not to mention full gear. It’s almost unfair just how much hotter the man becomes as if Carlos hasn’t spent this whole time finding him attractive. He picks up his drink again for something to do with his hands, swirling the straw inside of the cup.

“Small world. Outside of my own little bubble, I can’t say I casually meet many people who are first responders. We seem to be a pretty special breed to get into this line of work.”

TK laughs. “I fell into this because of my dad. He’s been a firefighter for years. He, uh, actually was on site during 9/11. I always thought he was incredible but knowing the full scope of what he and so many others did that day and for people in times of crisis, big and small in general, it just made me want to be like him.”

Carlos frowns, unsure of what to even say or think. “Your dad’s a hero.”

“I like to think so.” TK draws in a breath, squaring his shoulders. “Anyway, now he’s kicking ass down in Texas so, even though I miss him as my captain, I know he’s doing great work with his crew down there.”

Curiosity gets the better of Carlos as he asks, “What station is he with?”

“The 126,” TK replies, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

Carlos’ eyes widen. “Captain Owen Strand is your father?”

It makes sense the longer he looks at TK. Captain Strand is an attractive older guy and TK clearly got handed some solid genes. Still, it throws him for a loop to realize they have a legitimate connection to each other.

TK tilts his head to the side. “You know him? Shit, okay, wow, small world just got a whole hell of a lot smaller.”

“Unbelievable,” Carlos laughs in disbelief. “I don’t know him that well but we work together sometimes on calls. He’s amazing in the field and he’s really turned that station around.”

TK practically beams. “Guess this means we’ll be seeing each other again soon once we finally make it to Austin then.”

“Uh, yeah. I guess so. Assuming you don’t get sick of me before this night is through, that is.”

TK holds Carlos’ gaze for a moment and if it were anyone else, it would be unnerving but something in TK’s stare just sends a thrill through Carlos, excites him in a way no stranger has ever really gotten under his skin.

“I don’t see that happening,” he says plainly, as if this is an irrefutable fact and not something that’s truly subject to change.

Carlos doesn’t argue the point. He merely enjoys the next few hours, seeing just how easily TK’s theory pans out.

~*~*~

The contrast in weather between New York and Austin is one of the first things Carlos’ remarks on as he steps outside of Austin-Bergstrom. He’s never been more grateful for a forty degree afternoon. He’s kept Michelle updated about his new set time and he waits patiently outside of arrivals. Beside him now, TK types out a message on his phone before smiling over at him.

Carlos has had hours to get used to that look on TK’s face and yet he’s still brought up short. Last night and the early morning hours were spent talking to TK about everything imaginable, trading stories about crazy calls they’ve been on and even touching on personal things like their families. When they grew tired of talking, they watched movies on TK’s laptop, fighting off the urge to sleep for the mere sake of hanging out.

It isn’t rare for Carlos to become friendly with a person but this connection to TK feels different in a way he can’t quite parse.

By the time their flight boarded, Carlos knocked out for the entire length of the trip but it had been worth it in his eyes to stay up and take advantage of the uninterrupted time that stretched before him with TK. It was safe to say a bit of a crush had formed, as absurd as Carlos felt for it. TK was going to be in town for the next few days and that prospect was both thrilling and terrifying. If he could feel this close to TK in one night, there’s no telling what could happen in a few days.

Before he can get lost in that thought, Carlos sees Michelle as she pulls up to the curb, the trunk popping open.

“Are you good out here?”

“My dad’s coming in just a minute. I’ll be just fine,” TK muses as Carlos puts his carry-on inside and slams the trunk shut.

“Alright, well. You have my number now so text me whenever you’re free. I’ll show you a few places while you’re here.”

Carlos extends his hand but TK rolls his eyes jokingly and pulls him into a half hug instead.

“We’ve spent the night together, Carlos. I think we’re past handshakes now.”

Carlos’ face burns with TK’s wording but the man merely laughs.

“See you soon?”

Carlos just nods and finds the wherewithal to get inside of Michelle’s car. He waves after he buckles himself in, TK lifting a hand in response.

“Okay, who is that?” Michelle asks immediately, head turned to take in the sight of TK.

Carlos tips his head back against the seat. “You won’t believe the night I’ve had.”

~*~*~

Carlos has spent two days showing TK some of his favorite stomping grounds. TK relished in all that Austin had to offer and Carlos has been happy to see that their closeness from the unexpected overnight at the airport hadn’t been a fluke. If anything, these outings have only made Carlos feel closer to TK.

Michelle has been relentless in her teasing, finding it all too amusing that Carlos managed to cross paths with Captain Strand’s son of all people. She’d clung to his every word during the ride home from the airport as he filled her in on how he waited out the storm.

The 126 meets at their usual bar and Carlos is glad for this post-work gathering. It’s the perfect time to show TK what a real honky-tonk is like, further immersing him in the culture of the state his father now resides.

TK sits next to him at the table, the large group so packed in that his leg presses against Carlos’. It’s light but it’s enough to make the point of contact all Carlos can focus on even as everyone else at the table engages in conversations that overlap, laughing amongst themselves. He does his best to ignore it but it’s difficult not to take notice of each shift TK makes. Michelle keeps looking at him and Carlos, to the best of his abilities, avoids her gaze knowing that it’ll make it just that much more difficult to act as if he isn’t freaking out internally.

“I’m gonna get another. You want anything?” Carlos asks TK.

TK shakes his head. “No, I’m alright but thank you though.”

Carlos nods once and gets up, finding it much easier to breathe already now that he’s no longer sitting beside TK. Michelle catches his eye as he leaves from the table and he can hear her shoes as she follows behind him to the bar. She rests against the counter facing the room at large as Carlos gets the attention of the bartender and asks for another beer.

“You sure know how to pick them,” Michelle laughs at his side.

“Chelle,” he groans, shaking his head.

She merely laughs again, bumping her hip against his. “When did your life become a romantic comedy?”

“I must’ve missed the memo myself because this sure snuck up on me.”

The bartender sets a bottle down in front of him but Carlos doesn’t move. This little reprieve away from everyone but Michelle right now is welcome.

“I like him. He’s nice. Really cute too.”

“Oh, so you’ve noticed?” he deadpans, looking over his shoulder at TK.

He looks so at home here, hanging out and laughing with these people he’s, up until now, only known secondhand from his father’s work stories. TK is personable as ever, Carlos knows all too well. Had he not been swept away after one night in the man’s company?

“I think this is so great.”

“Funny, I think it’s the universe trying to mess with me.”

Michelle scoffs, finally turning to face the bar like him. “There are worse things in the world than a seemingly perfect guy practically falling into your lap. We should all be so lucky.”

Carlos casts the mental image aside, taking a sip of his drink. “The timing though. I can’t think about guys right now. I need to be figuring out my next set of moves for New York.”

“If those plans just so happen to include an attractive new friend…,” she trails off with a grin.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to screw this up because yeah, he is a new friend and we get along well, it’s a good feeling.”

“Do you like him?”

Carlos falters. “I barely even know the guy.”

“That’s not even remotely close to what I asked you.”

Carlos scratches at his forehead before letting out a sigh. “I do. Which hardly makes any sense at all. It’s only been a few days and yet I can’t stop thinking about him. That’s strange, isn’t it?”

Michelle shakes her head. “No, actually. I don’t think so. You guys had such a cute introduction to each other and you clearly hit it off. Some people just click and are meant to meet. The fact that you two had a connection to each other beforehand without even knowing it? I think there’s something to be said for that.”

“What, you think it’s fate or something?”

Michelle shrugs. “I wouldn’t rule it out. Your flight could have been a day earlier or even a few hours before his. On a plane filled with hundreds, you connected with him, Captain Strand’s son who just so happens to live in the city you’re about to move to. I think it’s worth seeing just how far it could go. If you ask me, you’ll wind up with a boyfriend in no time.”

Carlos mulls it over for a moment. He can admit he is in fact curious. It’s been a while since he’s felt this drawn to someone and with TK, it’s been as natural as breathing since they first met. The timing is less than ideal but it’s been so long since Carlos has felt this urge to get close to someone, since he’s felt safe enough to even open his mind and heart up to the possibility.

“Maybe you’re onto something.”

“One of these days you’ll learn to just accept my brilliance, no questions asked. But this will do for now.”

Carlos rolls his eyes but drapes an arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side and kissing her temple.

“I’m going moments like this with you,” he says.

Michelle sighs and pats his back. “I will too but we still have time on the clock, right? Let’s not think about that now.”

Carlos sighs, knowing she’s right. It just feels as if these moments are slipping through his fingers, the new year and all its changes lurking just around the corner.

~*~*~

As customary, the Ryder house is the staple for parties among the team and New Year’s Eve is no different. Carlos has lost track of how many times he’s sat on their couch or been treated for Grace’s incredible home-cooking. It’s always been a source of comfort for him, being surrounded by these colleagues who have become an extended family to him.

This time next year, he’ll be in another time zone, familiarized with a new group of people. Carlos knows he’s jumping the gun. There’s no doubt in his mind that he’ll be able to visit back home and that this collection of people will still love him as they do now.

Carlos looks around the living room, taking stock: Marjan blowing into a noise maker in Mateo’s face and bursting into laughter, Paul shaking his head and dropping his face into his palm. Over by the kitchen he sees Grace and Judd swaying to the music playing as Captain Strand takes Michelle’s hand and begins dancing alongside the other couple. It warms Carlos’ heart and breaks it too, seeing this all for what will be the last time with this city being home.

Suddenly the room feels too small and he finds himself heading for the door, grabbing his jacket off of the coat rack. It’s cold out but Carlos remembers just how bitter the weather in New York was. This is nothing compared to that. And it’s this thought that twists at his heart a bit more, one more reminder of how much his life is set to change sooner than he thinks he’s ready for.

The new year is biting at his heels and time is just slipping by. Logically he knows that he shouldn’t be outside now, that he would be wise to savor these memories with his Austin crew while they’re here rather than lament later. But it all feels like too much and the last thing he wants is to let his pensive mood be a dark cloud over a celebratory and joyous time.

Carlos keeps walking until he reaches the park nearby the Ryder household. Naturally it’s abandoned as everyone is tucked away inside their homes either enjoying a quiet night in or throwing parties like the Ryders. Carlos draws in a breath and takes a seat on one of the swings, his fingers clutching on to the links. He quickly stands up the second he hears footsteps approaching, a figure walking towards him.

“It’s just me,” comes TK’s voice and sure enough the man’s features come into focus the closer he gets until he’s settling into the swing beside Carlos.

“I saw you take off. I just wanted to check that you were okay.”

Carlos smiles a bit. “I appreciate it. I’m okay. I’m just...thinking about a lot right now.”

TK sways on his swing, letting a comfortable silence fall between them before he speaks.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Carlos’ heart and thoughts feel so heavy now, such a contrast to how lighthearted and hopeful this holiday is meant to be. But TK looks at him with such genuine care that he finds himself almost desperate to unburden himself a bit.

“Sometimes I wish I could just stop time, you know? But hell, it’s New Year’s Eve. What more proof do I need that life is always moving forward?”

Carlos sighs and rocks slightly back and forth.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a downer. You should head on back inside, have fun with the others.”

TK is silent beside him, long enough for Carlos to pull his gaze toward the other man. TK is eyeing him thoughtfully.

“You’re scared about what comes next. That’s totally normal. Moving away, starting a new life somewhere else, it’s a big step. A huge change.”

Carlos frowns as he nods. “I wish I could see the end, you know? I wish I could see if it’s all worth it, that I’m making the right choice.”

TK hums in thought. “Well, the best way out is through, right?”

“So you don’t think it’s a mistake to move out to New York?”

TK shrugs. “I don’t know you well enough to say one way or the other for sure. But no, I don’t think it is. I think the fact that you’re even considering it at all should tell you something about how you feel about where you are now.”

Carlos grows quiet, considering the man’s words. But TK isn’t done dishing out his opinion.

“You’ve got an amazing team here, there’s no denying that. It’s a real family, not to mention your actual family is here too. But—and mind you I’m super biased here— New York is an amazing place to be, to live. If you’re feeling restless in Austin, I think New York is the perfect alternative.”

Carlos laughs at this. “So, so biased,” he muses.

TK jokingly puffs up his chest. “Hey, it’s not my fault people have written songs about it and flock to it from all corners of the world,” he jokes. “And all of them, like you would, find home.”

A soft sigh escapes Carlos’ lips as he grips the chain link of the swing.

“That does actually sound pretty nice. I’d miss everyone here like crazy but maybe it’s time for something new? I don’t know. I keep waiting for something extraordinary to happen but nothing ever really changes around here. And there’s nothing wrong with that, of course. I just—“

“You’ve outgrown it,” TK says simply. “And there’s nothing wrong with that either.”

Carlos smiles at him and nods. “I suppose not, no.”

“At least you’ll come to the city knowing someone; you won’t be alone or completely starting from scratch.”

“You? You would take that on?”

TK rolls his eyes. “Of course me. You think I’d leave you high and dry? Damn, I know New Yorkers have a bit of a rep but jeez,” he teases.

Carlos laughs. “I only meant...you barely even know me. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Maybe so but I’d like to get to know you better. And if we’re gonna be calling the same city home, it’s kind of perfect. You get a new job, a new city, a new friend. Pretty sweet package, if you ask me.”

“You’ll be my tour guide then? You can take me to all the hot spots, Central Park and Times Square for starters.”

TK shakes his head in dismay. “God, Times Square,” he groans. “Hell on earth but sure, just for you I’d make the exception.”

“I’m honored,” Carlos says, placing a hand over his heart.

“As you should be. There aren’t many reasons I’d willingly go there so you should be patting yourself on the back right now.”

Carlos raises a brow. “But you’re thinking I’d be worth it?”

TK’s face grows serious. “In a lot of ways I’m thinking you would be, yes.”

Carlos' face flushes a bit and he looks away, down at his feet as he begins to kick out in earnest to start swinging.

Not for the first time since meeting TK he isn’t sure if there’s more to his words just below the surface, if he’s flirting or just being naturally charismatic. It shouldn’t matter either way, Carlos tells himself. Starting up a new relationship when so much in his life is already about to change doesn’t seem smart.

And yet it’s difficult to bear that in mind when he looks over and sees that TK is still watching him. The man smiles softly and follows Carlos' lead, swinging a bit.

In the distance Carlos can hear the rise in voices from houses where everyone is celebrating, just waiting to usher in the new year.

“One minute to go,” TK says, looking at the time on his watch and digging his feet into the ground to stop himself.

Carlos keeps going, breathing in the last dregs of this year before it’s gone with the tick of the clock. He looks up at the pinpricks of stars above, almost glistening in the clear sky. He closes his eyes, soaks in the moment, the last few seconds of this year winding down.

The New Years party goers can be heard shouting their countdown and beside him, TK joins in quietly as well.

Carlos opens his eyes once more and holds his breath as he upward, counting down the last few seconds in his head. This year is going, going...

Gone.

He exhales as shouts from the neighboring houses rent the air. He stops swinging then, digging his feet into the hard earth beneath him as he looks over at TK. Beside him the man’s face is flushed, the tip of his nose pink from the cold but his gaze is unrelenting as he leans forward.

Carlos’ body seems to move on its own accord, closing the distance between them as well. He doesn’t think about anything other than what TK’s lips will feel like and before he realizes it, he’s getting his answer.

It’s a chaste kiss, truly just a meeting of mouths in a gentle press but it warms Carlos from the center all the way through his entire body. TK’s lips are soft and warm despite the cold.

“Happy New Year, Carlos,” TK says softly.

Carlos doesn’t have the slightest clue of what the road ahead will look like exactly but it’s enough to know that in some capacity, TK is going to be a part of it. Be it as a friend or something more, it makes Carlos hopeful to see how life will unfold, what other surprises it may have in store.

Carlos stares at him for a moment and it seems as if TK and the whole world is holding its breath as they sit in silence together. This feeling in his chest is so unlike anything Carlos has experienced before. He likes to think things through, to anticipate at least three steps ahead but his future is such a blank slate that it’s truly anyone’s guess as to what will happen next. All he can do is control this present moment and as Carlos sees it, kissing TK is the only thing on his agenda for right now.

He leans in again and kisses the man once more, deeply this time, hand cradling the back of TK’s neck.

Maybe this is risky, maybe this will only complicate his life further when he settles in New York and has to figure out what this all means. But in this moment, that all feels like a lifetime away, a page from a chapter that hasn’t been written yet. There’s only the here and now with this beautiful man that fills him with possibilities.

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