#even if id be unable to make it legal id still want to have a ceremony because i dont care i love her

[yamikawaii]

yoomtah marry me right now

[absurdthirst]

Stripped Down Love {Javier Peña x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 17.8k

Warnings: Age gap (everyone's legal), strip clubs, mentions of knowing someone when they were underage, lap dances, sex work, mentions of prostitution, derogatory language towards strippers, vaginal sex, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, violence, accidental pregnancy

Comments: Javier comes back to Laredo and finds you, the adopted little sister of his ex-fiancée, working in the new strip club in town. Unable to stay away from you, Javi finds himself coming back to see you.

A/N: This story does contain mentions of age gaps and knowing Javier when you were a younger teenager. If this bothers you, please bypass.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Javier Peña MasterList ||

Javi rubs his cheek, tired of sitting in his pop’s house. Watching the old man snore as the news plays on the TV. Clinton gave some speech on the drug war and Javi wants to roll his eyes but he simply sighs and checks his watch. That’s it. He can’t sit here anymore. He has to go out. Laredo only has so many bars and Javi is well known in almost all of them. There’s one place he hasn’t ventured yet. It opened during the time he was in Colombia tracking down Cali and now, he’s intrigued. The flashing sign draws him in and after flashing his ID and paying the door fee, he walks inside and takes a seat. His dark eyes follow the girls who walk around in various stages of nudity. “Can I get you a drink, sugar?” One of them asks him and he nods, ordering a whiskey. 

“And now it’s time for our next dancer. Please welcome Margarita!” The announcement is loud and several men cheer, making Javi think this girl must be good if the regulars like her. He sips his whiskey as the music begins, eager to let loose and enjoy himself for a while.

The sudden flash of nerves that always attacks when you are announced floods your system but you smother them as the spotlight suddenly turns on, drawing the crowd's attention to where you are poised at the edge of the stage. The music you’ve picked out for this dance immediately starts blasting through the speakers and you focus on the beat as you rush towards the pole in the middle of the stage and jump on it, swinging around as you start your act. You try not to focus on the crowd, not even looking at them right now as you start to move to the beat and perform for them. 

Javi’s fingers twitch around the glass. Shit, the girl is gorgeous. No wonder everyone in here cheered. She’s swinging around the pole like it’s second nature and her body arches in a way that reminds him of when he makes a woman cum on his tongue. He licks his lips, imagining just that. 

She sways her hips and when she kneels on stage, that’s when Javi gets a good look at her. “Holy shit.” He whispers. He knows you. Lorraine’s kid sister. Well, adopted sister. Her parents kept trying for another kid but couldn’t, put their name on the adoption list and finally adopted you when Lorraine was in college, just before she met Javi. 

“Fuck.” He suddenly feels guilty, stomach churning as he continues to stare at you. You’re all grown up now. A fucking gorgeous woman. Men throw money on the stage when you finish your act but Javi continues to stare and that’s when you meet his gaze. 

Your eyes widen as you recognize the man you had a crush on when you were a teenager. Older, more rugged, and just as fucking sexy. You fumble to get the dollar bills, shoving them in your bra and you wink at Javi as you stand up and make your way backstage. “Holy shit.” You hiss to yourself, unable to believe he’s here. In the fucking strip club you work at. You have to talk to him. It’s been years and he might not even recognize you but you hope he still likes whiskey as you order one from the bar and carry it over to him. “Long time no see.” You say as you shift to stand in front of him, wearing lingerie that shows way too much skin.

Javi looks up into your eyes, trying to keep them focused on your face and not on the fantastic tits beneath your barely there scraps of lace. “It’s been, what? Twelve years?” He asks, finishing the rest of his whiskey and setting it down on the small table. “Looks like things have changed.” He doesn’t mean it in any negative way, everyone has to make a living and he won’t begrudge you that but he didn’t expect to see you here. He wonders what your sister and parents think of your profession, although he can’t expect it to be good. “How have you been?” 

You shrug, shifting to sit down beside him, “I’ve had better times. Worse times too.” You admit with a sigh. “This is for you.” You hand him the whiskey and his eyebrows raise. 

“Thanks.” He lifts the glass towards you, “can I get you one?” 

You shake your head, “I don’t drink during my shifts. Um, where to begin? I- I started working here to pay for my school. I'm trying to finish college.” 

Javier frowns, “didn’t you-?” 

You shake your head, “well, I was heading to college after high school but life went to shit. You went to Colombia and Lorraine lost her mind. Went into a spiral and our parents had to pay some big bucks to get her out of trouble and between that and the wedding that didn’t happen…I had to say bye bye to my college fund.” You wave at nothing, “and then I was mad because my future went down the drain because Lorraine pissed it away so I acted out. Got in with the wrong crowd, started treating Carol and George badly and George had enough. He threw me out. No money. Nada. I had to start from scratch at eighteen and so…I ended up here. Trying to get my life back on track after too many years of messing around.” You finish your story and look at Javier, “I heard you were back in town. Didn’t figure you’d end up here.”

“Shit.” Guilt settles in Javi’s gut and swirls around. If he hadn’t run away from the wedding, your life could have been far different. He doesn’t miss that you’ve called your adoptive parents by their names, assuming that you’ve not reconciled. “Yeah,” Javi takes a swallow of his fresh drink and looks back over at you. “Didn’t remember this being here the last time I was home.” He admits, looking around the club. 

“It opened about three years ago.” You tell him and Javi nods. They must have been building it when he was here for the week before he went to D.C. to be assigned to catching Cali. 

“Do you make good money here?” He asks, pulling out the stack of bills he had brought and peels a hundred dollar bill off to hand to you. It’s probably the least he could do, but it was a start.

You shake your head, pushing his money away. “I don’t want your money. I- I make good money here. Enough for a studio apartment and for me to pay for school. It’s not - George went mad when he found out I was here. Said I was ‘his adopted whore daughter’” You snort, “I always thought I was a good girl. Even now…I don’t - it’s just dancing and I-” 

You don’t get to finish your sentence when the club manager comes over. “Are you gonna sit there and chit chat all night, Margarita? Or are you actually gonna make me some money?” 

You want to roll your eyes at your boss, “sorry Javi. I gotta get back to work.” 

You stand up and your boss notices the way Javi’s eyes follow you, “unless you want a private dance with her?” Your boss suggests, raising his eyebrows at Javier.

Javi doesn’t like the way your boss talks to you, it’s not necessary and he’s had plenty of experience with women in the sex trade. “Yeah.” He nods, rocking his jaw slightly. “A private dance.” He agrees, knowing that it will shut your boss up and allow him to talk to you some more. “How do I get one of those?” He asks you, raising his brows questioningly.

You’re shocked he agrees to a private dance and your boss tells him how much it is, taking the money up front. You bite your lip as Javi peels off some bills from the roll and your boss jerks his chin at you, “go on then.” 

You take Javier’s hand, amazing at how big it is and how thick his fingers are. Entering a private room, you turn to the hifi. “You still like Led Zeppelin?” You ask, knowing Javier loved the 70s. Refused to get into hair spray rock during the 80s and said it was shit compared to the greats. “A Whole Lotta Love” starts to play and you walk over to Javier. 

“You don’t have to -” 

Javier holds his hands up and you shake your head, “they have cameras. If I don’t dance, I don’t get paid. I’ll go easy on you, Peña.” You promise, “tell me about Colombia. What have you been up to?” You ask, straddling his lap.

Javi exhales roughly as your thighs settle over his and it’s almost instinctive to grab them. This is you, the same fucking kid he had met when he was dating Lorraine. It’s wrong to think of you like a woman he wants to fuck. He had known you when you were sixteen and he was already a man. “It was ….rough.” He admits after a moment, swallowing slightly and trying not to fucking let his dick get hard. He loves beautiful women and you are fucking gorgeous all grown up. “Fucking politicians fucking everything up. Too many losses, too much fucking death.” He sighs and shakes his head. “You don’t want to hear about that shit.”

You want to make this worth the money. You want him to see you as a woman and not the mousy little teenager who had a massive crush on her sister’s boyfriend. It was wrong, so wrong, but you thought he was gorgeous and all man. When Lorraine faked the pregnancy and he ditched her at the altar, you hated that you were a little happy about it. You want him to see you as you are now so you grab his knees, arching your back to rock your hips to the music, grinding against him. “I do. Tell me. I know it was rough. I heard…rumors. I heard about you getting sent home before they caught Escobar.” You know it must’ve been a rough time for him, especially that moment. You grab onto his shoulders, shifting higher so your tits are in his face and you grab his hands, putting them on your hips. “It’s normal to touch.” You tell him, knowing your boss will be watching.

“Shit, they shouldn’t be touching you, sweetheart.” Javi hisses, shaking his head at the thought of every man out there putting his filthy hands on you. Not because you were some pure angel, but because you were getting paid to entertain them, not fuck them. They shouldn’t just get to touch your body unless you want them to.  He bites his lip, feeling himself start to harden and hating how disgusting that makes him. “Yeah.” He grunts out. “Fucked around with the wrong people, got burned.”

His fingers dig into your waist and your stomach twists. You decide to put your all into this, shifting off of his lap to spin around, bending over so he has an eyeful of your ass before you grab his knees and drop down between his legs, noticing the bulge in his tight jeans. You hate the thrill that runs through you, knowing it’s because you’re dancing and shaking your ass for him. You shift back onto his lap, back pressed against his chest and you grind back onto him. “Shit happens. It’s all par for the course. You did it though. You played your part, they got the bastard. And you got Cali from what I hear.”

“You kept up with my career?” Javi asks with a small smirk. You had probably learned it from the town gossip, Lorraine’s momma and daddy not able to completely smear his name through the mud despite their best efforts. Especially after he had become a ‘hero’, which he absolutely was not. “I got Cali, at the expense of my career. That’s why I’m here. Tired of the bullshit and just wanting a life where no one fucking shoots at me or I’m not chasing drug dealers across rooftops.”

You turn around, straddling him again and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, letting him smell your perfume. You always did that so the assholes would get caught out by their wives but you want Javi to remember how you smelt, how you felt on top of him. “So you came back to boring ol’ Laredo. Apart from your papa, what else is here?” You chuckle, rocking your hips to the beat of the song.

“Family.” Javi chokes slightly, digging his fingers into your hips harshly when you press your hot cunt against his cock. All you are wearing are those tiny fucking panties and he’s imagining you sitting on his dick right now while you moan his name. “Tías y tíos. My cousins.” He closes his eyes for a moment before he looks at you. “Why didn’t you leave? Start over somewhere else?”

You shake your head, biting your lip to smother your smirk that he’s affected by you. It’s clear in his dark gaze. “Couldn’t afford it. I have a piece of shit car and I think it would barely make it a hundred miles out of town. Was easier to stay.” You don’t mention that you always wondered if you’d reconcile with your adopted parents one day. That day hasn’t come yet, you doubt it ever will. “My ex…didn’t want to leave either until I started working here and he couldn’t handle it. Things didn’t end well so he, uh, he left.” You don’t mention the way he’d get jealous of you working at the club.

“Fucker.” Javi rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Let me guess, he got mad and accused you of fucking every guy who came in the place?” He’s seen a lot of men talk a big game and be unable to handle their woman using their body how they pleased. While Javi wouldn’t want his partner to sleep with anyone else, ironically enough, he had no problem with them dancing.

“Got it in one.” You chuckle softly, the song coming to an end. “The fact that his fist also used to get mad…well, I, uh, I learned real fast how to fight back and when I did, he decided to leave.” You admit, coming to a stop when the song ends, unable to meet his eyes. You know you sound like a lost cause, working in a strip club, an orphan who was beaten up by her ex and has no money. You’re like the poster child for a charity commercial.

“Pendejo.” Javi spits, hating the vulnerability on your face. He reaches into his pocket and hands you more money. “Doesn’t matter if you were fucking every guy here, you don’t deserve that.” He murmurs softly. “Some of the best women I knew in Colombia were hookers. Brave as shit, fierce. Nothing to be looked down on.”

You shift off of his lap, the money in hand. “This is too much.” You shake your head and Javi closes your hand around it. 

“Take it. Please.” He urges and you nod, unable to deny him. You heard the rumors of him sleeping around in Colombia too, the rumor mill still running during his absence, and you didn’t judge him, knowing it must’ve been lonely fighting a never ending war. 

“Thank you.” You lean in to kiss his cheek, shoving the money in your bra. “Do you want another drink?” You ask but he shakes his head.

“No, thank you. I have an early morning fixing the fence with my pa. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around.” He stands up and tries to discreetly adjust himself but you see it. 

“Sure thing Peña. See you around.” You guide him back into the main dance area and feel your boss’s eyes on you. 

“Be good.” Javi urges and you wink at him, “always am.” He walks out, glancing back at you before he exits and you sigh, hoping he comes back or you see him around town.

****

The week passed with Javi constantly thinking about you. The few times he had gone into town, he had looked around for you, wanting to see you again. He wonders where you live, what your schedule is like outside of your working hours. Now that the weekend is here, he showers and changes into some clean clothes to head into town. “I’m gone, pop.” He sticks his head in the living room to find his dad kicked back in his old Lazy Boy with the soccer game turned on, the announcers yelling through the speakers. 

Chucho lifts up the Budweiser in his hands. “Have fun, mijo.” He grunts out. “If you can’t get out of jail, call me.” 

Javi rolls his eyes, snorting at the same speech his pop has given him since he started going out as a teenager. It was doubtful he would need to call his dad, professional courtesy and all between federal agencies and local law enforcement and the locals looked at Javi like he was untouchable despite handing in his badge. “Sure thing pop.” He knows his dad will be asleep in his chair until at least midnight before he finally goes back to his room.

The club is busy tonight, always is on the weekend, and you prepare for your next dance. You’ve been scanning the room for Javier ever since that night and it feels like he’s never going to come back. “Welcome to the stage, Margarita!” The crowd cheers and you adjust your bra before you make your way up on the stage, the song blaring as you shift to spin around the pole, starting your routine, and that’s when you see him. A couple of rows back, whiskey in hand, and his look electrifies you.

The entire week, Javi’s been talking to himself about how wrong his attraction is to you. But the second that he sees you, every point he had tried to bring up to himself dies away. You’re an adult, nearly thirty fuckin’ years old, and it wasn’t like he spent much time with you when he was dating Lorraine. He arches a brow at you and lifts his drink as you dance. He isn’t in the front row, throwing bills at the stage but he will pay you after you get done with your set. Groaning when he sees you turn around and bend over to give him a fantastic view of your ass.

You put more energy into this dance than anything else you’ve done all week. The feel of his eyes on you has you going all out and more money flies onto the stage and you finish with flair, going into the splits and you wink at Javi when he claps your performance. Standing up, you gather the money and make your way off stage and over to Javi. “Fancy seeing you here Peña.” You say as you set a whiskey down for him.

“Wanted a drink.” He jokes, like you aren’t aware that he has passed half a dozen bars to get to your club. “How’s your week been?” He asks, like he’s run into you in a grocery store and is asking about the weather. “Haven’t seen you around when I was in town.”

You shrug, “been busy with school. Nearly the end of the semester, so I’m trying to buckle down and get good grades. I’m nearly done with my degree.” You tell him, sitting down on the empty seat next to him. “I can’t be too long. Boss has been on my ass to get more money this weekend.”

Javi rolls his eyes and pats his lap. “Come here then.” He doesn’t want you to get in trouble and he’s talked about much more troubling things when a woman has been on his lap. “What are you going to school for?”

“Nursing. It’s good because I already have the outfit.” You joke, shifting to settle on his lap, and you lean back against him, enjoying the way he feels against you. “How was your week? You get that fence fixed on the ranch?” You ask, reaching up to push that piece of hair back, wanting to show your boss that you’re schmoozing a customer and not just chatting.

“That piece, yeah.” Javi instinctively leans in, brushing his nose along the length of your throat while you swivel your hips. “Then another section decided to fall on the northeast corner of the ranch.” He huffs, fully aware that they are fighting a never ending battle with nature. His hands settle on your hips again and he lets out a quiet groan. “You’re too good at this.” He huffs quietly. “Definitely didn’t learn it from your sister.”

You smirk, “no. She has always been a stick in the mud.” You snort, “heard from a few girls that her husband has been in here a few times.” You reach out to caress his chest, fingers dipping under the fabric of his shirt. “Do you want another dance? I- I’m not asking for the money. Just - it would be nice to be alone again.” You bite your lip, knowing you’re playing with fire but he’s too good to not want to get burned.

“If you want me to have a dance.” He knows he should decline, but staring into your eyes, he doesn’t want to. Yes, he knew you when you were a teenager, but you’re grown now. You’re calling the shots. “Do you want to give me a lap dance, conejita?” He has used that nickname when Lorraine complained about your unlimited energy. “Or should I just call you Rita?”

You chuckle, “you can call me whatever you want, baby.” You flirt playfully, shifting to stand up and you hold your hand out towards him. Guiding him to a private room, you turn to the stereo to put on some music and he sits down. You cup his cheeks, sliding your hands down his neck to his chest, loving the way his Adam’s apple bobs with the movement. “Lorraine was an idiot to try and trick you, to push you into marriage. She didn’t appreciate what she had.”

Javi grunts, remembering the absolute panic he had when she had told him that she was pregnant. Followed up by a stern lecture from his pop, Javi had done the right thing. He had proposed, swallowing down his suspicions that something wasn’t right. “She knew I wanted to leave.” Javi admits. “That I was planning on applying to the DEA.”

You sigh, shaking your head, “I knew something wasn’t right. I saw - she had a tampon and I didnt question it. It wasn’t my place.” You rock your hips on top of him, moving to the beat. “You deserved better. Lorraine has her rich husband and her 2.5 kids.” You roll your eyes, “she’s all set.”

Javi snorts, smirking at how put out you sound. “Careful, Rita.” He teases. “You sound jealous. You want the rich husband and 2.5 kids?” He asks, arching his brow at you playfully.

You shake your head, running your fingers through his hair as you continue to dance on him. “Hell no. Maybe the kids…one day. I- I want someone who loves me for me. Who makes me happy and supports me. Not monetarily but emotionally. Money can’t buy happiness. It can make life easier, but it can’t replace true emotion. You can’t buy love.” You realize how cliché you sound but it’s true. “What about you? Ready for a wife and kids?” You tease, grinding down onto his lap when you feel his cock hardening beneath you.

The truth is Javi has never been opposed to marriage, he just never found someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He gives a small shrug. “Never found someone willing to put up with my shit for too long.” He huffs. “Least not someone I wanted to deal with their shit.” He modifies, very aware that Lorraine had been desperate to lock him down at the time. “What you do shouldn’t matter. Just as long as he takes care of you, physically and emotionally. Work is fucking work. It should stay there.”

You nod, “exactly. You get it.” You know he would take care of you physically. He’s so handsome, fucking sexy as hell, and you are struggling to keep professional. You never sleep with customers but Javi has you wanting to bend the rules. “For now, we will both just have fun.” You wink at him, the song rolling into another but you don’t get off of his lap, content to stay here all night. “You want an actual dance?” You ask, biting your lip, knowing you’ve just been moving for the camera, not really moving for him.

“If you give me an actual dance, I’ll embarrass myself, hermosa.” Javi admits, harder than a rock and it’s been a long time since he’s fucked anyone other than himself. Jerking off in the shower every few days doesn’t count but it’s what he’s done since his first few weeks back in Colombia the last time. Not even the blonde at the airport had managed to convince him to sneak into the women’s bathroom for a quickie.

“That’s okay. I want - I want to make this good for you. You’re paying money to listen to me chit chat. Let me - I want to show you what I can do.” You murmur, eyes flicking down to his lips and he licks them, causing your eyes to meet his. He doesn’t say anything, just nods, and you shift off of his lap, playing a new song. You turn away from him, moving slowly to the intro, swaying your hips and you look over your shoulder at him as you smirk, wanting to affect him. When you turn around, you kneel down and run your hands from his ankles to his thighs, stopping just short of his pelvis, admiring the bulge there for a moment. You slowly straddle him again, grinding down onto his hard cock and you reach behind you to unclasp your bra.

“Shit.” Javi has tried to not stare at your tits but now you are practically shoving them in his face. Making him twitch against your grinding cunt and his fingers dig into your hips. Your arms wind around his neck and you press forward, making him groan when your tits press against his skin. All he has to do is open his mouth and he could lick you. Although the glittery body powder you’re wearing wouldn’t taste good. He wants to drag your mouth down to his and kiss you. Rip off the tiny bottom and pull his cock out so you can ride him. Instead, he slides a hand around you and squeezes your ass harshly.

You fucking love how it feels to have him touch you, his calloused hands squeezing your ass and you whimper when he drags you down onto his cock. The song continues to play and you try to keep the rhythm but Javi is too good, his hot breath on your skin has you tossing your head back, arching your back to thrust your chest into his face. “Fuck, Jav.” You pant, continuing to grind onto him.

His cock is throbbing and he knows that if you don’t quit grinding on him, he’s going to fucking blow a load in his jeans like a fucking teenager. “Jesus, you gotta stop.” He hisses, unable to resist leaning in and nipping the skin of your breast. He’s always been a biter and he wants so desperately to have you wearing the impression of his teeth. “You’re gonna make me fucking cum in my jeans.”

“Do it baby. It’s okay.” You promise breathlessly, wanting to moan at the feel of his teeth on your breast. “I want you to cum for me Javi.” You murmur, leaning in to kiss his neck, unable to resist him. You want to see and hear him cum, at least to give you something to dream about.

Javi groans, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, making you grind down on him even more as he rocks his hips up. Filthy moans and a long growl pour into your ear as he closes his eyes, hot spurts of cum coating his cock as he cums in his pants with you grinding down on him.

You kiss his neck again, smiling against his skin at how gorgeous he sounded when he came. Your panties are soaking wet, imagining how he would’ve felt inside of you. “God, that was hot.” You confess, breathing him in, and you wish you could fuck him but he’s just here for a good time, not to take his ex’s sister home.

“Shit.” Javi pants, shaking his head. “I’ve not done that since I was in fucking college.” He admits, looking up at you when you pull back. “Now I gotta go shower again.” He’s not upset about it, doesn’t give a fuck, but he wishes he had been able to get you off. “You gonna think about that later tonight?”

“Absolutely I am.” You wink and you mean it. It was sexy as hell to be able to make him cum like that. You feel on top of the world, not dirty like other lap dances you’ve given where the guy does that. You sigh and lean in to kiss his chin, “you don’t have to pay. That was - I wanted to do that. It’s not - you aren’t paying for it.”

Javi frowns and shakes his head. “The fuck I’m not paying.” He insists. “You’re here to make money and I’m taking up your time.” He reaches up and grips your chin. “I am not getting freebies while I'm here, okay?” He knows that will get you in trouble and you have to support yourself and finish school. “Please?”

You stare at him, seeing the fierceness in his eyes. “How about a discount?” You tease and he offers you a warning look. “Fine. Full price if you insist, Peña.” You joke, slapping his chest and he grabs it, tangling your fingers together. You swallow harshly, looking into his eyes. It’s so tempting to kiss him but you won’t.

“You should take a break.” Javi murmurs softly. “Have something to drink.” He’s not thinking about liquor but he knows that you have to be thirsty after dancing. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another stack of bills. “Here, hermosa.”

You nod, “I’ll go to the break room now and get a drink and a snack. Are you gonna go home?” You ask and he nods, “gotta clean up my mess.” 

You chuckle, “you mean the mess I created?” You joke and he snorts, “exactly.” You hold your hand out towards him, “thank you for coming to see me.” You bite your lip, admiring the sheen on his forehead from his orgasm.

Javi nods and takes your hand to stand up. “Be careful, hermosa.” He murmurs seriously. “If you get any of these drunk assholes bothering you, don’t walk out to your car by yourself.” He knows you are smarter than that and have taken care of yourself for a long time but he worries. “If no one will walk you out you call me. You have Pop's home number?”

You nod, knowing Chucho has had the same phone number since 1965. Your heart flutters at his protectiveness and you try not to read too much into it. He’s just looking out for you. “Thanks Jav.” You lean in to kiss his cheek, “be careful too.” You know that he attracts trouble and you want him to be safe.

Javi makes his way out of the club, grimacing as he climbs into his truck. The bad thing about it is that despite him cumming in his pants, he still wants to fuck you. Sighing as he turns over the engine, he contemplates coming back tomorrow or waiting until next weekend.

****

You’re making your rounds when Javi comes into the club a few days later, making you smile and wink at him when you see him nod at you. You are finishing up with a customer who asked you to sit and talk. An older man, regular, who likes to just talk to you because you remind him of his ex wife. He doesn’t ask for more but pays you well for your time. You’re quick to get Javi a whiskey from the bar, making your way over to him and settling in his lap after you set the drink down. “Hey stranger.” You coo, kissing his cheek, “what you been up to?”

“Hey, Rita.” Javi winks at you and takes a sip of the drink you brought him. “I’ve been hauling fence posts and shoveling horse shit and trying to break the fuck bastard of a horse Pop decided to buy.” He grunts, thinking about how the bastard had tried to bite him when he was feeding him before he showered and came here. “Took a lot to not just shoot the damn thing.”

You snort, shaking your head at him, "I would've paid money to watch you try and tame a wild one." You giggle at the mental image of him cursing the horse, and you know he would curse his dad for buying it. "So you're here to relax, have a drink..." You tilt your head, knowing you wouldn't mind taking him for another dance. The nights since he came in his pants have been occupied with your hand between your legs, remembering how he sounded.

“To see you.” Javi murmurs, cutting his eyes back to you. He’s already resigned himself to the fact that he’s fucked. “For some reason I can’t stay away from this woman I’ve known since she was a high schooler.” He grunts, taking a sip of his drink. “She’s driving me crazy.”

"Yeah? You know...she has been watching the door every night, waiting for you to come back." You confess softly, eyes flicking down to his lips and back to those dark eyes that look ravenous. "you're driving her crazy too."

“Surprised that she’s not barring me from the club since I came in my jeans.” Javi flushes slightly and his hand strokes your thigh lightly. “Especially when she is dressed like this, looking like a fucking sexy angel.”

"I took that as a compliment." You hum, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair, pushing it back. "You like the outfit? I just got it. Picked it while thinking of you, that way you look at me." You admit, looking down at the white silk and lace, "Javi...I don't - my shift ends in an hour. I want to take you back to my place." You confess, sick of beating around the bush. You've debated telling him how you feel, worried he will tell you this is confined to the club and not beyond that.

“Fuck.” Javi groans and his hand tightens on your thigh. “Yes- fuck, I want to go home with you.” He nearly growls it, leaning in and biting your chin slightly. “Can I keep you occupied for the next hour so I can have you to myself?”

You smirk, "you want a private dance? We can drag it out. I don't want your money for the dance but we can talk in private and waste the time." You suggest, "I promise I won't make you cum in your pants again." You lean back to offer him an innocent pout.

Javi snorts and sends you a small grin. “Gotta make sure that your boss doesn’t get suspicious.” He murmurs, nodding and squeezing your thigh again. “Good thing there are cameras, or I’d just fuck you right there.” He finally acknowledges that he has every intention of sleeping with you and he doesn’t feel guilty about it. You obviously want him.

You whimper, unable to stop the noise making its way up your throat. “I wouldn’t argue with that. But I don’t want to rush. I’ve wanted you since you walked in here.” You admit, “you wanna come back to the room?” You ask, leaning in to run your nose along your jaw.

“Yeah.” Javi groans, knowing he’s going to have a hard time keeping his hands off of you now that you both know where you stand. “Believe me, I’m not going to cum in thirty seconds when I slide inside you.” He promises.

You shift off of his lap, “I hope not, Peña.” You tease, holding your hand out and he takes it. You guide him back to the private room, letting him sit down and you turn to the stereo. “What music do you want?” You ask and he smirks, “whatever you want hermosa.” His words make you smile and you lean down to pick something sensual. Not wanting to rush this. The music starts and you straddle his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Fuck.” Javi groans, leaning in and dragging his nose along your throat, placing a tiny kiss against your pulse. It’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself this type of intimacy but it’s surprisingly easy with you. “I want to kiss you, but I’ll wait until no one is watching.” He murmurs quietly, not wanting to cause problems with your boss. “What do you want me to do, hermosa?”

You press your chest to his, getting even closer to him. “I want you to wreck me. I want you to fuck me so hard I have to take tomorrow off.” You tell him, nipping his jaw as the music plays and you wish you could just leave but your boss would kill you. “I want you.” You kiss his neck, “in my bed.”

Javi hisses and his hard cock twitches underneath you. “You want me to make to fuck you until you scream my name?” Javi rasps out, digging his hands into your hips. “Fuck you until we are both breathless and needing a cigarette?”

“God yes. Imagined it so many times. At night, with my hand between my thighs. Haven’t stopped thinking of you since the first night you came here.” You admit, grinding down on his hard bulge. Fuck, this hour is going to be a lifetime.

He chuckles quietly, fingers sliding under the edge of your skimpy bottoms. “Just like you used to when you were a teenager, huh?” He teases. “Lorraine used to say you had a thing for me, but I didn’t believe her.”

You bite your lip, “maybe I did. I, uh, I did have a thing for you. A big thing.” You admit and he smirks, “shut up.” You hit his chest and remember you’re supposed to be dancing on him. “I used to think you were the sexiest man in Laredo, hell, in Texas. Nothing like those boys in school.”

“That’s because I wasn’t a boy.” Javi grunts at you playfully. His hand covers your and he lifts a brow as he drags both of your hands down over his stomach and towards his belt buckle. “All man, hermosa.”

“Fuck.” You pant, unable to resist squeezing him through his jeans. “I can’t wait, Javi. I need you. I- I’m gonna tell my boss I feel sick. I need - I’ll meet you outside, okay? I can’t wait any longer.” You tell him, shuffling off of his lap now that the song has ended. It’s barely been five minutes but you need him after dreaming after him for so long. “Come on baby.” You take his hand to drag him up.

There’s a small laugh that follows as he lets you pull him to his feet. He won’t pay you now because you are rushing towards the door, eager to go home. “Tell them that you feel like you are going to throw up. That you nearly threw up on me.” He suggests, knowing that the man wouldn’t want you throwing up on clients.

You snicker, “good idea, baby.” You guide him out of the room and you playfully pat his ass before you rush to find your manager. 

“What is it, Rita? You got the money from that dance?” He asks and you shake your head, covering your mouth. 

“No. I’m gonna - I feel like I’m gonna throw up. Nearly did on him.” You admit, gagging and covering your mouth again.

“Jesus Christ. I don’t want you puking on anyone. Don’t be fucking pregnant. Get your shit and go.” He orders and you nod, rushing to the locker room to change into your sweats and grab your purse, making your way out to the parking lot.

Javi takes one last drag off his cigarette and tosses it down to grind it under his boot. Grinning when he sees you rushing out the back door and he pushes off the side of his truck. “Rita.” He calls out, aware that the two of you are in public and he wouldn’t want anyone who doesn’t know you to find out your real name. He motions you over and looks around. “Where is your car?”

You point to the heap of shit that barely runs even after you’ve prayed for it to start. “You can follow me.” You tell him, knowing he will want to drive home directly from your place. “Come on baby, let’s go.” You urge and he smirks, winking as he opens his truck door. “See you there.” You promise and get into your car, sighing in relief when it starts. You pull out of the parking lot, keeping your eyes on the rear view mirror to watch Javi follow you to your apartment.

He’s fucking appalled that you drive this piece of shit. The damn thing looks like it’s barely clinging to life and one day it’s going to leave you on the side of the road in the middle of the night. Javi grunts to himself as he follows you, reminding himself to say something to you about it. It’s not safe. Your apartment is only ten minutes away from the club and he pulls in beside you, hopping out and walking up to the curb to wait for you.

You grab your purse and keys, making your way to his truck. You take his hand to guide him into your place. Taking your key, you guide him to your front door and he’s pressing against you. You fumble with the key to open the door and once it’s open, you spin around to press yourself against him. “Fuck me Javi.” You demand, cupping his cheeks.

Javi pushes you back through your door, both of you stumbling across the threshold and he slams the door behind him so he can gather you closer to him. “Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth, his hands grabbing your ass and pulling you against his cock.

You surge forward to press lips to his, desperate to kiss him. “I need you, baby.” You murmur, pecking his lips, before you deepen the kiss, sliding your tongue into his mouth.

Javi grunts, rocking his hips forward and tangling his tongue with yours. He knows the basic layout of most apartments and he starts to walk you back towards the hallways. Wanting to get you into your bedroom and on your bed.

You let him guide you backwards towards your bed, pushing you down onto it, and you drag him down with you. “God, you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this.” You confess and kiss him, reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

He chuckles, dipping his head and nipping along your jaw and down your through. He loves kissing you, but he wants to do everything he imagined while you’ve been grinding on him. “Been thinking about this a lot, huh?” He teases, one hand sliding up and under your t-shirt to squeeze your tit over your bra before he dives under it too. “Fuck you’re so sexy.”

You whimper when he squeezes your breast, reaching down between you to pull your shirt over your head. “Fuck Javi.” You gasp when he surges down to wrap his lips around your nipple, biting down on it. “So fucking sexy.” He murmurs and you push his shirt off his shoulders, wanting to feel his skin.

It’s a race to get undressed, both of you pulling and tugging on the other’s clothes. Desperate to get naked and touch each other. Javi groans when you shove your hand into his jeans and gasps when you discover he’s not wearing any underwear. “Fuck.”

“Holy shit you’re thick.” You pant when his hands find their way into your sweatpants and he instantly rubs your clit. You squeeze him, “gotta - gotta finish getting undressed.” You tell him and he nods, shifting off of the bed, grabbing onto your sweats so he can pull them down your legs and off of you.

He peels the material down your legs and tosses it onto the floor, kicking off his boots so he can push his own jeans down. His cock bobs and dances as he kicks them off and he groans as he wraps his hand around himself. “Fuck baby, spread your legs. And you need to tell me now if you need me to wear a condom.”

You follow his order, spreading your legs for him, and you point to your side table. “I’m on birth control. I’m clean. Haven’t been with anyone since my ex and that was a while ago. I got tested and I- I understand if you’re more comfortable wearing a condom because of my profession. They are in my nightstand.” You tell him, eyes focused on his hard cock, unable to believe how gorgeous he is.

Javi snorts and shakes his head. “I’m clean too and your profession doesn’t bother me, hermosa.” He murmurs, kneeling on the bed and caressing your ankle as he shuffles between your spread legs. “I’ve slept with prostitutes in Colombia, a lot of them. Respected every one of them.”  He leans down and drops a kiss on your knee before his hands slide up your thigh and between your legs.

His words make your heart swell and you admire his honesty. “I- I haven’t done this before. Slept with a customer. Believe it or not. I didn’t want the extra money like that. I’ve heard too many horror stories of girls that go home with customers.” You admit, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his hard cock. “Fuck baby. You’re so thick, I need you inside of me now.”

He doesn’t care if you had done this with every customer you have, as long as you were careful of your safety. He shuffles closer and lets you drag his cock through your folds as he reaches up and pinches a nipple to make you gasp. Leaning down to kiss your lips as you line him up. “Fuck, hermosa.” He groans, pushing his hips forward when you let go of him in his eagerness to slide inside you.

You whimper when he starts to push inside of you, feeling the stretch already, and you close your eyes, tilting your head back into the pillow. “Fuck Javi. That feels- you feel so good.” You pant and he leans forward to kiss your chin. Your hands slide along his back, loving how muscular and strong he feels under your touch as he pushes deeper until he’s fully inside of you.

“Shit.” He hisses, closing his eyes as he rocks slowly, letting you feel without moving too much. Enjoying the way your walls flutter around him. “You feel so good, hermosa.” He groans, looking down at you and pulling you close as he spreads his knees apart to start thrusting. “So fucking good.”

It’s been such a build up to this moment, you are immediately on fire, but you savor how he feels inside of you. “Baby. Oh baby.” You murmur, knowing you’ve wanted this for so fucking long and he feels so good inside of you. You wrap your legs around him, pushing him deeper with your heels in his ass, loving how slow he’s going. “Wanted this since I saw you in the club.”

His elbow dips into the mattress near your shoulder and he grunts as he rolls his hips forward. “Fuck, me too.” He confesses, knowing that he shouldn’t but he doesn’t give a shit anymore. “So fucking hot shaking your ass up there.” He huffs, kissing down your jaw and biting on your chin.

You are surprised he wants to fuck you like this but you won’t complain. You whimper and let me push deep inside of you, crossing your ankles behind him back to push him deeper inside of you. “Fuck baby. You’re so - so thick.” You pant, knowing you’re going to feel him tomorrow. He grunts and you grip his neck, gasping when he tries to suck on your neck. “No marks.”

Javi huffs against your skin but he stops sucking. If you have bite marks or anything on your skin, you’ll get shit from your boss. He doesn’t want you to get in trouble or make less money because of him. He shifts to his knees and drags you upright. “Hold on to the bed.” He orders, keeping your upper body in his hold and he thrusts up into you. “Jesus.”

You follow his order, hands flying out to grab the headboard as his hands squeeze your tits, making you moan as he hits something spectacular inside of you in this position. “Oh fuck baby. I- shit. You’re - shit. You’re so fucking deep inside of me.” You pant, turning your head to press your lips to his.

Groaning, he kisses you back, instantly sliding his tongue into your mouth to tangle with yours. His fingers are digging into the muscles of your back as he keeps steadily filling you. Loving how your walls open for him to fit him like a glove. “Jesus, hermosa.” He hisses into your mouth, closing his eyes and sliding a hand down your back and around your body to cup your breast and squeeze.

You pant, loving how he feels inside of you. Pushing deep and you reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging on his locks. “Holy shit.” You moan, loving the way he twitches inside of you. “Shit baby.” You try to rock your hips to meet his, grinding down onto him while he squeezes your tit.

He huffs, letting go of your tit so he can rub your clit, lowering his head so he can draw your nipple into his mouth. Biting down on it before bathing it with his tongue, he suckles harshly. He loves the way you cry out and your fingers tangle into his hair to pull on it.

You shift to brace your feet on the bed, rocking against him to grind onto his cock. “Oh my God, baby. You’re gonna - I’m gonna -” You’re lost in how he feels, so deep inside of you and his fingers on your clit combined with his mouth around your nipple sends you over the edge, clamping down on his cock, you cry out and collapse forward against his chest.

Javi groans against your skin, loving how you clamp down around him and soak him with your juices. “Fuck.” He pants, rolling his hips up faster and holding onto you tighter as he chases his own high.

His arms slide under your thighs, lifting you up higher so he can thrust harder inside of you. You wrap your arms around his neck, crying out his name as he pushes you through your orgasm. “Fuck. Oh - oh - I need you to cum for me Javi. Please. Cum for me baby.” You beg, trying to grind against him but he has you in a tight grip.

Now is the time where Javi’s thrusts get more desperate. Moaning and grunting as he clenches his jaw and stares into your eyes. He feels himself getting closer. Every time you clench around him, you push him closer. “Fuck, fuck.” He grunts, leaning in and biting your bottom lip as he drives deep into your tight cunt and moans as he fills you up with hot ropes of cum.

You can’t take your eyes off of him, watching as he cums. His face twisted as he orgasm and you fucking love it. Eyes open as you watch him fill you with hot seed. “Javi. Oh baby. That’s it. Fill me up.” You murmur against his chin.

“Shiiiiiiiit.” Javi moans, angling his head and pressing his lips to yours for one last kiss. Breaking it off and leaning his head against your clavicle as he tries to catch his breath. “So good.” He huffs quietly.

You hum in agreement, running your fingers through his damp hair, and you love how his breath hits your chest. “Worth the wait.” You joke softly, caressing his neck while he calms down, his cock still inside of you. 

“Definitely worth the wait.” He hums in agreement and you sigh when he lays you down on the bed and pulls out of you, his cum dripping out of you and you spread your legs so he can see. Smirking slightly, he swipes his fingers through your folds and rubs your clit as he lays down beside you. “Fuck, now I need another cigarette.” He hums, knowing he won’t get up to get one right now. He’s relaxed and wants to stay right here. 

“I have some in my drawer.” You offer, making him raise a brow. He knows you don’t smoke so he wonders who the cigarettes are for. You shrug, “old habit. My ex used to like to smoke after sex.” You confess and you shift over him to grab the pack and lighter, placing the ashtray on the nightstand. “There you go.” You kiss his peck and he works on lighting a cigarette. “I like you Javi, always have. I, uh, I don’t just want to see you when you come to the club.” You admit, stroking his chest and down to his stomach.

Javi sucks on the cigarette and leans back, his hand dropping the lighter on your nightstand before it curls around your shoulder. Exhaling up towards the ceiling so he doesn’t blow it on you, he hums. “We can go to dinner tomorrow.” He offers, raising his brow as he looks down at you. “Sound good? Anywhere you want to go.”

“You want to be seen in public with me?” You joke, chuckling as you snuggle into his side. You know your ex had an issue with your job and you hope Javier, despite his assurances otherwise, that he doesn’t care about your job.

Javi snorts and shakes his head, taking another drag off the cigarette. "It should be that you don't want to be seen with me, hermosa." He teases, his fingers stroking up and down your back gently. "We could always go down to the steakhouse?" He asks. The steakhouse is pretty much the fanciest place in Laredo to have dinner and it was 'the' date spot for anyone who wanted people to know they were seeing one another.

You raise your eyebrows, surprised that he wants to take you there but you won’t deny that you want to be there with Javi. “I like the sound of that. Let’s do it baby. Steakhouse tomorrow night? I have the night off.” You admit, watching him blow out another cloud of smoke.

Javi nods. “I’ve got to work with pop in the morning, so I’ll pick you up later on?” He asks, knowing he doesn’t want you to drive that shit box car more than you have to. “Seven sound good or do you want to do it later?” He doesn’t know what you do on your days off and he doesn’t want to intrude if you have important things to take care of.

“Seven is good.” You hum, “gotta run errands tomorrow and hopefully get some sleep. I have a class too but I’ll be ready by seven.” You promise, “I, uh, I know it’s been a long time since you were with Lorraine but people will gossip and I- I don’t care. She doesn’t like me but I don’t want to cause issues for you.”

“You aren’t going to cause issues for me.” Javi flicks the ash in a tray on the opposite side of the bed and takes one last drag before he stubs it out. “Do you want me to leave?” He asks, unsure if you like men to sleep over. He wouldn’t mind staying, but it’s up to you.

You nod, “if you want. I’m way too comfortable right now to let you go.” You tease, swinging your leg over his hips to snuggle into his side before you pull your covers over you both. “Stay.” You order softly and he agrees, kissing your hair. It’s too easy with Javier. Far too easy.

****

The doorbell rings and you smooth down your dress, eager and hoping Javier likes you in the dress you’re wearing. It’s more coverage than anything he’s seen you in thus far and you hope he likes it. “Hey handsome.” You smirk when you open the door to him.

Javi hasn’t worn a suit since he quit the DEA but he’s glad he pulled one out of the closet. Even ironing the shirt. “Shit.” He huffs, leaning against the door and returning your smirk with one of his own. “I didn’t know I was having you for dinner.” You are fully covered and still his cock twitches in his pants and he thinks you’re gorgeous.

If you thought Javi in jeans was hot, Javi in a suit has you dripping already. “Dessert.” You correct him, “we are having steak for dinner and you can have me for dessert.” He chuckles and you step closer to cup his cheeks, kissing him. He woke you up with his tongue this morning and you have been thinking about him all day. His hands grip your waist and he slides his tongue into your mouth, tasting your lipgloss. “Let’s go baby before we forget about dinner and go straight to dessert.” You slap his chest and reach into your apartment for your purse, making quick work of locking the door.

Javi chuckles and guides you out into the parking lot and over to his truck. Trying to be a bit of a gentleman and opening the door for you. He can tell you’re surprised but he just smirks and watches you climb into the cab before he shuts the door and skirts around the hood to get behind the wheel. “Hope you’re hungry.” He teases as he starts the engine. “I’m giving up dessert to eat steak first.”

You giggle, feeling like a teenager all over again except now you’re a woman and Javier is a man and you’re going on a date. You drive through Laredo, watching him and admiring his profile while he concentrates on navigating to the restaurant. “Has anyone ever told you you have a fucking perfect nose?” You ask and he snorts. 

“Absolutely not. Never. Not. One. Not even my mother.” He reveals with amusement. 

“Well I think it’s perfect.” You hum, reaching out to trace your finger along the bridge.

He’s been hit on plenty of times, enough to know that he’s not ugly but he knows that his features aren’t perfect. Still, it makes him open his mouth and then close it, unsure of what to say to that. He finally looks over at you with a slightly disbelieving expression. “I think you need to have your eyes checked.” He jokes. “You’re the perfection in this truck.” That, he means, finding you stunningly beautiful and not in the way he finds you stunning when you’re at work. You would fit in at any swanky embassy party if he was still in Colombia - or ever attended them.

You fluster, biting your lip at the way he calls you perfection. You know your job has men looking at you like a piece of meat but right now, Javi is looking at you like you’ve hung the moon. He pulls into the restaurant and you take his hand when he helps you out of his truck. You walk into the restaurant hand in hand and your heart is thumping with nerves and happiness.

The hostess smiles brightly, although he doesn’t miss the way her eyes slide up and down his body and the smile takes on a slightly warmer tone. “May I help you?” She asks him and Javi nods. “Reservations for Peña.” He looks over at you with a small smirk, having called earlier just to make sure that there was no way you weren’t going to eat here tonight. After confirming the reservation, the hostess asks the two of you to follow her and for once, Javi doesn’t watch a woman’s ass as her hips sway in front of him.

You love how Javier’s hand hovers against your lower back as he guides you to the table and you smile when he pulls your chair out for you. “What a gentleman.” You compliment him with a wink and he chuckles while he takes his seat. “You didn’t check out her ass?” You frown, reaching for his hand to check his pulse, “you feeling okay?” You tease, knowing he’s an infamous playboy in Laredo.

Javi snorts and pulls his hand away from you. “Behave.” He huffs at you even though he’s grinning. “I don’t have to imagine what your ass looks like, and I guarantee it’s better.” He doesn’t want you to think that he just wants sex with you. Of course he wants sex, but he doesn’t want to limit it to just sex. He’s tired of that and he likes you. You’re funny and smart.

Seated, you bite your lip as you look over the menu. The prices are set in small print and nothing is exactly cheap. Unsure of what to order considering that your ex had always complained when you wanted an actual meal. The waiter comes over and he orders a bottle of wine that sounds appealing.

“Don’t order a damn salad.” Javi huffs, watching you scour the menu for the cheapest options. He doesn’t want you to do that, he’s paying the tab so he wants you to enjoy yourself and order what you want to eat. “You work out all fucking night at your job, you need the calories.”

You stare at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. Most men would be happy for you to order a salad. Say you even have to lose weight or keep your figure, but Javi wants you to eat what you want. You bite your lip, “the steak sounds good. With French fries.” You confess, looking up at him over your menu. “Then order that.” Javi insists and you nod, setting the menu down. “Thank you.” You reach out to squeeze his hand, not sure if he knows how much he just comforted you.

Javi nods and looks over at the waiter when he brings the wine over again. After pouring, he looks back at you, wanting you to order for yourself. He hates when pompous asses speak over their dates and order for them to seem like they are in charge. When you order your steak and fries, Javi orders a steak with a baked potato and seasonal vegetables. Once the waiter rushes off to put the order in with the kitchen, he picks up his wine glass. “To setting tongues on fire in this town.” He offers with a grin.

You giggle, clinking your glass against his, and you discreetly look around to see several sets of eyes on you. You take a sip, humming softly at the wine choice, and you set your glass down to look at your date. “You know that a lot of the men in here on dates with their wives have been in the club multiple times?” You snort, knowing that their wives are gossiping about you but have no clue their husbands tossed their money on stage to pay you.

“I don’t doubt it.” Javi huffs. “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with enjoying a beautiful woman, when you're single. Yes, you’re gonna look when a woman walks down the street. Women do it too, but you don’t go seeking it out.” He gives a small shrug. “But I’m glad that are helping you get through school too, so fuck ‘em. Take their money.”

You smirk, loving his mentality and you nod in agreement, “exactly. Fuck ‘em.” You giggle and reach for his hand, squeezing it. “I would rather fuck you again though.” You tell him honestly, biting your lip, “I want you to come back to mine after this…if you want.”

“Up to you, hermosa.” Javi had hoped you would want to fuck again, but he’s not going to assume that you would invite him into your bed. He’s exchanged sex for money plenty of times, but the score was upfront and everyone knew what was going on. “If you want me in your bed, you just tell me the word and I’ll be there.”

You grin, “I want you in my bed tonight.” You say it clearly so there’s no confusion and Javi nods. The dinner is soon served and you dig in, groaning at how good the steak is. It’s been too long since you had a meal like this. “God that was good.” You sigh after the waiter takes your empty plate. “Dessert?” You ask Javi and his eyes dip down to your chest, “if you’re offering, hermosa.” 

You smirk, “oh I’m offering baby. You want actual dessert or you want me?”

His own smirk matches yours. “I doubt they would like it if I licked whipped cream off your cunt on the table.” He jokes huskily, eyes darkening as he leans in. “The question is if you want to eat something decadent here while you think about my tongue buried in your pretty pussy or if you want it first and then eating the dessert you got to go.”

You know you won’t be patient enough to wait through dessert. “Dessert to go. I don’t want to wait.” You confess, staring at him as the waiter comes over and Javier tells him to pack up one of each dessert to go and bring the check. “You ordered every dessert?” You ask breathlessly and he nods, “you’ll need your energy for tonight.” His words make your cunt clench and after he pays the check, you grab the bags of desserts and rush out from the restaurant. Once you’re in his truck, desserts secured, you reach for Javi to press your lips to his.

He chuckles against your lips, happy when you open up immediately for him. He curls his arm around your back and drags you across the bench seat to press up against him. Sliding his tongue into your mouth to groan when your own flutters eagerly against his. His other hand slides up your thigh but not dipping under your dress. After a long, steamy make out session, he pulls away panting. “We need to get back to your apartment.” He grunts, cock hard and already aching for you.

You huff, disappointed but you know you can’t fuck in a parking lot. He pulls out of the restaurant parking spot and makes his way along the road to your apartment. The radio is playing and you are feeling cheeky, deciding to reach out and squeeze him through his jeans. “Hermosa.” He warns with a low groan. “Javi.” You giggle, flicking the button on his pants, slowly pulling the zipper down.

Because he is in a suit, Javi actually wore boxers. You huff at the obstacle between you and his cock. Javi adjust his hands on the wheel, allowing you more room, sure that you are going to blow him in the fucking cab of his truck as he drives towards your house. “Fuck hermosa, you don’t have to-“ he groans when you reach into his boxers and wrap your fingers around him to pull his cock free. 

“I want to.” You whisper before you duck your head down to take him into your mouth and Javi hisses, his other hand slapping the back of the bench seat before he cups your head. “Oh fuck.”

You take him deeper, loving how he twitches inside of your mouth. You whimper around him, cunt dripping with anticipation of him inside of you and you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, working him deeper while you kneel on the bench in the cab of his truck.

“Fuck.” Javi moans, continuously taking his eyes off the road so he can watch you take his cock down your throat. “So fucking good.” He praises quietly. “So fucking good. Imagined you like this, so much while you were on my lap.”

You hum around him, widening your jaw to take him deeper down your throat until the hairs at the base of his cock are tickling your nose. He chokes, the truck swerving a little and you almost giggle around his length at his reaction. You want him to feel good, to want more of you. You want to please him.

“You’re gonna fuckin make me crash.” He groans, sliding his hand down your back to squeeze your ass. He doesn’t mind, just making sure that he keeps his eyes on the road and doesn’t close them. “So Fucking eager you have to suck my cock on the drive home. Can’t wait.” He teases, smacking your ass.

You moan when he smacks your ass, pulling off of his cock so you can look up at him, continuing to pump him with your hand. “Couldn’t resist you. Been thinking about you since you left my place. Wanting your cock again.” You admit before you take him back into your mouth, wanting him to cum before he arrives back at your place.

“Good.” Javi groans. “You’ll have me again now. Anytime you want me.” He promises quietly. He turns into your parking lot and rushes to find a parking spot closest to your building.

You want him to cum down your throat so you take him deep again, moaning around him. Your hand slides down to fondle his balls and you hollow your cheeks, closing your eyes as he kills the engine to his truck.

“Shit, shit.” Javi hisses, feeling his end coming and his entire body tenses. He taps your cheek just in case. “Gonna cum!” He gasps out, closing his eyes and letting out a low growl.

You don’t pull back, feeling his balls pull up in your hand and you moan when his cum hits the back of your throat. You love how he groans your name as he cums, making you whimper around him while you try to swallow every drop he gives you.

It takes almost a minute for him to stop cumming. Moaning your name again as he digs his fingers into your ass as he spurts the last drops into your mouth and gasps for air.

You swallow all of it, waiting until his cock stops twitching and you pull back, kissing the tip of his cock. You lick your lips and sit up to look at him, pleased with yourself for swallowing every drop and the wrecked look on his face.

“Jesus Christ,” Javi pants. “You need to get in the fucking apartment.” He orders, grabbing your chin and pulling you towards him for a kiss.

You smile against his lips, fumbling for your purse and you reach for the door handle. “Come on then, Peña.” You order, getting out of the truck before he can open your door and you rush to your front door, struggling to find your keys and you eventually find them, opening your apartment just as Javi grabs your hips to guide you inside.

“I hope you’re ready to be in bed all night.” He hums, kicking the door behind him and barely taking his hands off of you so he can lock the door behind the two of you. “Because I’m not letting you leave it.”

****

Javi walks into the club, excited to see you and to watch you dance for him. Knowing that the other men are watching you but only he gets to take you home is thrilling. He finds a seat just as you’re about to start your set and he orders a whiskey. When you come on stage as Margarita, he smirks when you wink at him, shaking your ass in his direction, and he knows he will be biting it later, not enough to leave a mark but enough to make you squeal his name. 

When you get off of stage, you gather the money and quickly make your way to the floor, eager to see Javi. “Hey sweetheart. Come ‘ere.” You turn to see a man - not a local - reach for you and you barely have a second to react before he’s pulling you into his lap. “Wanna see those tits.” He grabs your top, pulling it down to display your tits to his hungry gaze before you can push him away.

Before he can slam his drink down, Javi is shooting up out of his chair. “Hey!” He growls, charging over to the asshole who has decided to drag you down into his lap without your permission. “What the fuck are you doing, pendejo? You ask before you fucking touch.” He slaps his hand off your top and twists the man’s wrist away from your body.

"She's a whore. It's all for sale. I just took it without paying first." The man snorts at Javi, "you wanna have her? Wait your turn, buddy. She has enough to go around for the right price." 

You hiss at the asshole, shifting off of his lap and you can't help it, you slap him. "I'm not a fucking whore." You growl, knowing you've never slept with any customer other than Javi. 

"Fuck you sweetheart, you are probably sucking the cock of everyone in here. This one just got jealous. Wants you to himself, huh?"

“Shut the fuck up!” Javi hisses, unable to control himself and pulls back to punch the asshole square on the jaw. The shock of the punch allows you to scramble off his lap and duck behind him. “She’s not a fucking whore, you puta.” He squares up to hit the man again but security rushes over to grab hold of Javi.

"Stop. Stop." You beg Jason, the security guy who is grabbing Javi. "He was defending me against this asshole. You should be kicking him out." You demand and your boss comes over. 

"What the fuck is going on?" He growls, "you just hit a fucking customer." He hisses at Javi, "and you slapped him." You try to explain what happened but your boss isn't having it. "You're fired." He growls at you and you clench your jaw. 

“Fine. I'm fucking over this shit hole place." You hiss, turning to Javi who is struggling still. "I'll meet you outside." You tell him, "he will leave." You tell Jason who nods and escorts Javi out of the club. You grab your things and change before you head out of the club, sick of the bullshit you have to endure. You see Javi pacing by his truck and you drop your things, wrapping your arms around his neck to drag him towards you for a kiss.

Javi pulls away from you after a quick and sloppily executed kiss. “I’m sorry, hermosa, I- he was grabbing you without your permission.” He growls, angry that you had been fired for being assaulted. “You got fired but I can’t say that I’m upset about it.” He tells you. “Not because you’re losing money, but that you don’t work for an asshole that will let his customers just do whatever they want to you. I should call the fucking sheriff.” He grumbles, looking at you guiltily.

You cup his cheeks, shaking your head. "It's okay baby. I couldn't - something was gonna happen eventually. I had to leave at some point because they wanted me to...to give extras and I refused." You confess, seeing him clench his jaw. "Leave it. I have been fired. It's done. Let's go. I want to go home."

Javi nods and guides you over to your car. Once again hating how big of a piece of shit it is. He’s spent hours under the fucking hood cursing when he had the extra time. He hadn’t been able to convince you to let him buy you a more reliable car, even going so far as to tell you that you could make payments to him if it made you feel better. “I’ll follow you, okay?”

You shake your head, “I’m done with the clubs. I don’t - I want to do something else. I don’t want to have to fend off assholes. I don’t want to tell them no every night because one night…one night they won’t take no for an answer and you might not be there. I can’t keep risking it.” You step under the hot water, letting him step in behind you. “I’ll find something else. Hopefully in another few months I’ll be finding a job with my damn degree.”

Javi hums and nods, reaching for your sponge thing and your body wash so he can wash the glitter, sweat and lotion off your body. “Then just don’t work.” He suggests. “I’ll make sure the bills get paid. Not like I am paying anything living with my pop.” He wants you to concentrate on finishing school and it’s been a struggle balancing things. “Just until you can get a job with your degree.”

You lean against him as his hands wash your body with the sponge. “I can’t ask that of you.” You shake your head, “I- I will find another job. I’ll be okay. I have some savings for the rest of school and I can manage the rent here. I’ll be okay.” You promise, leaning up to kiss his jaw. You know he wants to help but you’re proud and you don’t want him to think you’re with him because you want him to pay for everything. “I- I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you. It’s not like that at all. I- I love you.” You murmur, staring at his chest to avoid those dark eyes.

Javi freezes for a moment, watching you intently as you avoid his gaze. “I know you do, hermosa.” He murmurs quietly after a moment. “You know I love you too. That's why I want to help.”

You cup his cheek, bringing your gaze to his. “I know. I just - I want you to know that this isn’t just sex. I love you. I don’t want your money, I want you.” You murmur, loving how his hands caress you, washing you down, and you grab the body wash so you can wash him too.

“I know that.” Javi scoffs slightly. “You tried to give me free lap dances every night when I came in. Even though you know I’m coming home with you.” He doesn’t allow you to work for free, always paying you. He knows your bosses would have gotten on your ass for that if you did.

You chuckle, “I just wanted to grind on my boyfriend, that’s all.” You put a label on what you are and you pray that doesn’t scare him off but you have gone on dates, slept over at your place, and he’s brought you coffee and drinks. You’d consider it dating. “Now you get all the lap dances for free.”

“I don’t mind that.” He smirks as he looks down at you where you are washing his legs. “If you want, I’ll still tuck bills into your panties.” He jokes, knowing you would never let him do that at home. He winks at you to let you know that he was kidding.

“You can’t afford me, Peña.” You roll your eyes at him playfully, glad you are now both clean and you caress his chest, looking at him while the hot water hits your back. “Can you take me to bed? I want to feel you.” You reach down to wrap your fingers around his semi, wanting to have him inside of you.

Javi groans, just like he does every time that you touch him. “Fuck baby.” He huffs. “Get out and let’s get dried off.” He smirks, reaching out and squeezing your tit gently. “Want to make you feel good and forget all about tonight.”

You nod, getting out of the shower to grab two towels and you dry off, watching him in the mirror as he dries himself. When he walks back into your bedroom, you are laying on the bed waiting for him, “come on Peña and fuck me.” You order, spreading your legs. His display tonight has had you wet since leaving the club.

Javi chuckles and wraps his hand around his cock to pump it as he walks towards the bed. “Rub your clit baby, want to see you get even wetter.” He loves for you to touch yourself in front of him, finding it even more erotic than your dancing.

You follow his order, rubbing your clit, and you moan when you watch him jerk his cock, fully hard as his dark eyes trail over your body. “Fuck baby. You look so good.” You compliment him, loving the small tummy he has and his muscular arms.

“You look better.” He promises, greedily watching you. You huff but it’s true, you look like a fucking sexy goddess. “Always so sexy.” He kneels on the bed and shuffles forward. “Put me in, hermosa.”

You reach down to grip his cock, positioning him at your entrance. He pushes his hips forward and you shift your legs over his hips. He moves onto his elbows, pushing deeper inside of you and you reach up to caress his back. “I love you Jav.” You murmur, kissing his shoulder.

“Love you too.” Javi grunts, turning his head to press his lips to yours. He grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours. He rocks his hips slightly and groans at the way you tighten around him.

“Fuck baby.” You gasp against his lips, loving how he slowly rocks into you, making you whimper at how deep he gets. Squeezing his hand, you try to meet his thrusts, rocking your hips up into his. “Baby. Oh baby.” You moan, loving the way he stretches you and pulls you apart bit by bit.

“That’s it, baby.” Javi coos, rocking his hips a little faster as he pants. “So good. That tight pussy squeezing me so tight.” He moans, kissing down along your jaw and when he reaches your shoulder, he bites down hard enough to leave his teeth marks, able to mark you now that you aren’t working at the club.

You cry out with pleasure when he bites down on your shoulder, knowing it’s been hard for him to not mark you up when he’s a biter. You love that you can wear his mark now, show the world that you belong to Javier Peña. “Fuck. Do it again.” You beg, rocking your hips up to meet his faster pace. He’s intoxicating and you desperately want him to push you over the edge before he fills you up.

“Fuck, gonna bite all over you.” He promises thickly, his teeth digging into the top of your breast and he ducks his head down even further to bite your nipple. He doesn’t make that one too hard, instead he baths it with his tongue after he bites to soothe it. “Make you see my teeth marks every time you get dressed.”

“Goddamn. I - I really want that.” You admit, shifting beneath him and he hits just the right spot on his next thrust. “Fuck Javi. There. Right there.” You pant and he nods, rocking into you and focusing on that spot. Your neighbors must hate you. Screaming Javi’s name at all hours of the night but you couldn’t help it even if you tried. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Javi - oh!” You moan, clamping down on his cock when his pelvis presses against your clit just right.

Instantly, Javi groans, knowing that he won’t last. Not when you are like this. Sex has been incredible between the two of you, your orgasms becoming quicker and more intense with time. He moans out your name as he buries himself deep and fills you up. Shuddering over you and pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he does.

You pant, trying to catch your breath as his cock pulses inside of you. You run your fingers through his hair, loving having him on top of you, and you close your eyes, savoring how he feels, how he sounds. “Love you baby.” You sigh and he murmurs a “love you” into your skin. Lol

****

You are struggling today. The smell of bacon cooking has your stomach rolling and you can barely stand to ask for someone’s order. Deciding to take the night shifts at a diner until you finish school made the most sense, even if Javi had offered multiple times to pay for your apartment. You hadn’t given in, wanting to provide for yourself until you can work in your field. You breathe deeply, taking the order and once you’ve sent it to the kitchen, you rush into the bathroom to throw up. After washing your face and mouth, your eyes widen. “Shit.” You hiss, realizing that you’ve missed your period. You’ll get a test after work. Maybe you’re just exhausted studying for finals.

Javi hums to himself as he glances at the clock. You should be close to getting off work now and he would head up to the diner to wait for you so you can drive home together, you had asked him to not come in. Apparently unsure of getting fired if he hangs out there so Javi had just let himself into your apartment to wait for you. 

This shit is getting harder to do. Wait around for you. Or not take things further. For the first time in a long time, Javi didn’t like having space from you. Wanted to talk about moving in together. Maybe even move you out to the ranch. It would be good, you wouldn’t have to pay rent and Javi could sleep in the same bed as you every night.

You finish work, just barely managing it, and you have been nauseous the entire time, unable to even look at the food you’ve been serving. Your boss noticed and asked what’s wrong and after telling her you feel sick, she sent you home. Javi should be coming to pick you up soon and you are nervous. You’d walked to the nearest 24 hour pharmacy, the daylight breaking over the horizon and you bought the test, taking it in the bathroom. It was positive and you’re terrified. The future you worked so hard for hangs in the balance. You don’t think that Javi wants kids. He’s never mentioned it and you know that Lorraine faking her pregnancy must’ve terrified him. You walk back to the diner and stand outside to wait for Javi and that’s when you see her. Lorraine and her family are coming in for breakfast.

“If it isn’t the county whore.” Lorraine’s husband Randy rushes their two kids inside, not wanting the girls to speak to you. “What are you doing in a decent place?” She demands, curling her nose up at you. “Should you be letting those creeps shove dollar bills up your twat at the club?”

You roll your eyes at her words. You haven’t seen her for years and the irony of her showing up the morning you’ve just found out your pregnant isn’t lost on you. “At least they’d pay for me. You couldn’t get a dime.” You retort back, making her wrinkle her nose at you. “Well at least I’m not letting every Tom, Dick and Harry touch me for money.” She hisses and you roll your eyes at her before they widen when you see Javi’s truck pull into the parking lot.

Javi curses under his breath slightly but he doesn’t hesitate to step out of the cab. He shoves his hand through his hair and wonders how this is going to play out as he walks over to the two of you. Instead of pretending he’s not with you, he leans in and kisses your lips. “Hey, you ready?” He asks before he turns towards his ex fiancée. “Lorraine. Come to see your sister at work?” He asks, like it’s a friendly family reunion. He knows she doesn’t talk to you and he subtly slides his hand around your waist. “Too bad she just got off and needs to go home and sleep.”

Lorraine stares for several moments, eyes flicking between you and Javi and you brace yourself. Lorraine has never been able to cope with not getting what she wanted, even if that includes her ex fiancé from years ago. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Lorraine shrieks, “you’re fucking my little sister?” 

You shake your head, “adopted, remember?” You are bitter that she essentially ruined your life. 

“Jesus Christ Javier. I knew you were trying to fuck your way through the entire town but my sister? Oh my God. Did you…did you- when we-?” 

You scoff and roll your eyes, “I was seventeen. It was illegal. Javi never touched me then. He was with you.” You remind her but she shakes her head. 

“You always had that stupid crush on him but I figured it would fade. I never - ohhhh, you met her at the strip club, didn’t you? I heard about your affection for whores in Colombia. Guess you wanted to continue the tradition when you got back to Texas.” Lorraine chuckles and you shrink into Javi’s side. She’s always had this way of beating you down and making you feel worthless.

Javi narrows his eyes at Lorraine, he wants to lash out at her but she’s your sister. He doesn’t want to cause more issues than you already have with your family. “She doesn’t work at the club anymore.” He tells her simply. “And you should be proud of her, first and only one from your family to get a college degree.” Lorraine had dropped out in order to plan the wedding that had never happened. As far as he knows, she has never gone back.

Lorraine shakes her head, “a degree she paid for shaking her ass and getting her tits out.” 

You snort, “isn’t that what you did to get Randy? You should go inside to your family, Lorraine. It was…nice to see you.” You say despite your blood boiling at her. She fucked up her life, tried to force Javier to marry her, lied about her pregnancy, then went off the rails when Javi stood her up…yet you’re the bad guy. 

“Whatever. You deserve each other. I have a great husband and two beautiful girls.” She says defensively. 

“Exactly. Go inside and be with them.” Javier demands and Lorraine tilts her chin up and makes her way into the diner. 

“Shit.” You huff, turning to look at Javi once she’s inside. “I’m sorry about that. She’s the last person I expected to show up here. She was never a breakfast person.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Javi shakes his head and starts guiding you over to the truck. “She’s just pissed off that she didn’t get to stomp all over you and I’m not hiding away.” He squeezes your hip before he lets go so he can open the door for you to climb into the cab. “Forget about her. How was work?”

You sigh, remembering the test you have shoved in your purse. “It was…it wasn’t great today. All the food…it was making me nauseous.” You have no idea how to tell him, the pregnant test feeling like it weighs a ton in your purse.

“Are you sick?” Javi frowns slightly as he looks over at you, starting up the truck before he backs it out of the parking spot. “We can get you in the bed and I’ll run out to the drugstore. Just tell me what you need.” He wonders if you’ve gotten the virus that’s going around lately. Feeling bad because he had been thinking about fucking you before you went to sleep. Now that was off the table, but he doesn’t care as long as you get some rest.

You bite your lip, struggling to get the words out. “No Javi. I…I - I went and got a test after work. I, uh, it was positive. I’m pregnant.” You tell him, “I didn’t realize it but I skipped a period. I’m so sorry baby. I- shit - I fucked up. My birth control fucked up.” You choke, tears stinging in your eyes.

Javi’s eyes widen and his knuckles grip the steering wheel even tighter. Fear rushes through him, although there’s not an ounce of doubt in his mind. You had demonstrated how much disdain you had for what Lorraine pulled on him. “How- how far along are you?” He manages to choke out, wondering how you feel about it. You’re almost done with your degree and haven’t even had a chance to work in your field, you might not want the baby.

“Maybe 6-8 weeks. I don’t know. I gotta go to the doctor to be sure. I’m so sorry this happened. I didn’t - I swear to you I didn’t do this on purpose. It was an accident. I’m sorry baby.” You choke, tearing stinging in your eyes when you see how he grips the steering wheel.

“It’s- it’s not your fault.” Javi shakes his head, trying to shove down the fear of being a horrible dad. He knows he’s got a lot of shit baggage and could fuck a kid up. “What- uh, what do you want to do?” He asks, looking over at you.

You bite your lip, “I don’t know. I, uh, I live in a studio apartment. I’m about to graduate. I - we aren’t living together or married and I don’t want to force you into that. We didn’t - it’s completely unplanned and we are completely unprepared.” You try to be logical, wanting to point out the reasons why you shouldn’t have this baby.

Javi snorts softly. “I’m sure hundreds of people have babies they aren’t prepared for every year.” He tells you. He shakes his head, “hermosa, I was asking if you wanted to keep it or if you didn’t want the baby. We can work out all the details on everything else, we have at least 7 months.”

You swallow harshly, looking over at Javi. “What do you want?” You ask, imagining a life with Javi, your child running around and adoring their father as much as you do. Chucho being a grandfather and showing them around the ranch. It seems ideal. What you’ve always yearned for since you were a kid. “I want it.” You admit softly, “I want to keep our baby.”

“I was planning on asking you to move in.” Javi confesses. “Out to the ranch, give up your apartment and not have to pay rent or worry about that bill. Plus I’d get to sleep next to you every night.” 

You turn to look at him, “really?” You ask and he nods, reaching for your hand to kiss the back of it. “You wanted me to move in?” You ask breathlessly and he nods again. Your answering smile makes his heart jump and you kiss the back of his hand, “I would love that. Waking up in your arms, between your legs.” You wink suggestively, “I want to move in with you.”

Javi breathes out a laugh and nods. “Okay, yeah. Pop will love having you out at the ranch. Especially with you pregnant with his grandchild.” He promises you. He had talked to his dad about it last week, and gotten the older man’s approval.

You nod, unable to stop smiling. Excited and scared for what lies ahead. “I guess I better give my landlord notice.” You tell him and he nods, offering you a wink.

****

“Holy shit.” You pant, barely able to keep yourself upright but Javi wraps his arm around your chest, pulling you back against him as he pushes inside of you. “Fuck baby. So - so good.” Your bump sticks out and you turn your head to kiss his jaw.

“Look at you.” Javi’s other hand cradles your breast, not squeezes but just holding it since your tits are sensitive while you have been pregnant. “So fucking beautiful,” he groans, rocking his hips insistently. The need for you has just increased with you living here and starting to showing.

You moved in with Javi six months ago and your bump has made everyday things harder but Javi has been there every day. His cock pushes deep inside of you, giving you what you need, and you reach behind you to tangle your fingers in his hair. “Fuck baby. So good. Always so fucking good.” You pant and love how he makes sure you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself every time you have sex.

“You feel so good baby.” Javi coos, loving how your bump is getting bigger everyday. He’s seen the ultrasound scans and held your hand during the doctor’s appointments. Cried in the truck after hearing the heartbeat with you for the first time. His hand slides down over your bump to find your clit so he can make sure you cum. “You’re so sexy and I’m the only one who gets to see how sexy you are pregnant.”

“Only you baby. Only you.” You promise, moaning when he rubs your clit just right and his cock pushes deep inside of you. “God, I love you.” You pant, pushed closer to the edge and you whimper when he hits just right inside of you. “Fuck. You’re gonna make me - I’m - shit!” You gasp, tilting your head back onto his shoulder.

“Fuck, that’s it, hermosa. That’s it.” He hisses, gritting his teeth as he works you through your orgasm. “Fuck I love you.” His own hips start to stutter, pace faltering as he pushes towards his own release until he is grinding up into you and panting your name into your ear before biting down on your neck.

You love how he feels when he cums inside of you, his hands gentle when he relaxes and caresses your bump. “Your poor pa having to listen to us go at it all the time.” You giggle and shake your head, shifting to lay down and Javier curls around you, kissing your shoulder.

He snorts. “That man is dead to the world when he sleeps. Besides.” He curls his arm around you and strokes your burgeoning belly. “He’s already telling me I can’t let La Niña be an only child. She needs a hermano to protect her.” He hums, smiling at his father’s nickname for his coming grandchild.

You snort, “one baby at a time, Peña.” You smile and caress his forearm. “I haven’t got this one out yet. She’s kicking.” You hum, knowing he can feel it against his palm. She knows her daddy’s voice by now and you can’t believe you’re here in his arms. You spin around to face him, your bump pressed into his stomach. “I- I know you might say no and there’s - I don’t care if you say no because I understand but…will you marry me?” You ask him softly.

“Damnit.” Javi huffs quietly, frowning at you. “I was going to ask you when you were at your baby shower next week.” He grumbles at you, even though he’s not mad. Leaning in, he brushes his nose against yours and grins. “Where’s my engagement ring? You can’t ask someone to marry them without one.”

You giggle and nod. “I did.” It’s a simple silver band, but it will look good on his finger. “It’s in our closet, in my jewelry box.” 

“Oh my god, you actually bought me a ring.” He doesn’t know why but the idea of it makes him emotional and he sits up to reach for you. “You knew I would say yes, huh?” He teases.

You shrug, caressing your bump as he tugs you closer, “we are kind of tied together forever now. What’s making it official?” You giggle, reaching for the box. “I’ll even ask you properly.Javier Fernando Garcia Peña. Will you marry me?” You ask softly, wanting him to know you’re serious.

“Jesus Christ.” Javi shakes his head and leans in. “Of course I’m going to marry you.” He promises before he crushes his lips to yours. Your engagement ring is in the bedside drawer and he reaches behind him to open it so he can grab it while kissing you.

You press your lips to his, pulling back when he presses the box into your hand. You look down, opening the velvet box and your eyes widen, “baby. It’s - it’s beautiful.” You choke, caressing the diamond and you look up at him, “is this your mom’s ring?”

“It is.” Javi nods and bites his lip. His mother had never really cared for Lorraine and he had never given this ring to her but he wants you to wear it. “Can I put it on you? Since I’m going to marry you?” He grins at you happily.

You nod, letting him slide the ring onto your finger and you reach for the box by his knee, deciding to slide his ring onto his finger. “You’re not gonna ask me?” You tease, rubbing his ring with your finger and you admire your own ring. It’s perfect.

Javi huffs at you and picks up your hand, calling your name softly. “I love you. You’ve been here for me since getting back from Colombia and I know there is no one else I love or trust more in this world. I want to be by your side for everything life throws at you.” He murmurs softly. “Will you marry me? Tie me down? Lock me up and throw away the key?”

You smirk, “tie you down? Lock you up and throw away the key, huh? Didn’t know you were that kinky, Peña?” You tease, cupping his cheek with your free hand. “I love you. So much. I want to be your wife. I want to be beside you no matter what life throws at us. I want you. I want our family. I love you so much baby.” You murmur, rubbing his lower lip with your thumb.

“I love you too baby.” Javier promises you, leaning in and kissing you tenderly. “So much.”

****

“It’s okay baby, I have her.” Holding his baby girl is never a problem, grinning at the scrunched face that his one month old daughter is making. Even though he knows that’s her ‘pooping face’, he’s still enamored with her since holding your hand as you screamed and pushed her into the world. “You pick out better fruit than I do.” He trails along behind you as you wheel the shopping cart through the doors, bouncing her slightly in his arms and swaying as she continues to make faces and grunts. The diaper bag is on his shoulder and anyone who has ever known Javier Peña would be shocked at how naturally he had taken to fatherhood.

“Has anyone ever told you how sexy you look as a father?” You ask him as you walk towards the fresh produce. 

Javier smirks, “only you. Every day.” 

You chuckle and shrug one shoulder, “only two more weeks until I’m cleared, baby.” You remind him and he nods, “oh I’m counting the days.” He promises, knowing you need him as much as he needs you but he wants you to be healthy and safe to do so. Maria fusses in his arms and he rocks her while you focus on picking out some fruit. Chucho likes bananas so you inspect them and put a bunch in the cart. 

For some reason, your instinct tells you to look up and when you do, your eyes meet Lorraine’s, her eyes flicking between you and Javier holding your baby. She narrows her eyes and walks over, “so you finally trapped him then?” She says, her eyes flicking down to your wedding rings. 

“No. I didn’t trap him. I’m not like you, Lorraine.” You sigh, honestly over the past. You are married, you have a daughter you adore and a husband that you love deeply and you don’t want to keep rehashing the past. “This is Maria. Your niece.” You announce, stepping closer to Javier so Lorraine can see the baby's face. 

She swallows harshly, regret in her eyes but neither you nor Javi have any malice towards her now. “If you want to come over and meet her properly, you’re welcome to.” Javi offers her and she shakes her head, “no. No. I, uh, I won’t intrude. Con-congratulations.” She stammers and fumbles to turn around and wheel her cart off in a hurry. 

You sigh, turning back towards Javier, “well, we tried.” You murmur and he nods, reaching out to rub your shoulder. 

“She will come around eventually. I want Maria to have a family that loves her, not resenting her. She still needs to meet Steve and Connie.” Javier says and you know he’s right. It’s been hard to have Maria without your adopted parents or sister but you know you’ll be able to do anything with Javi and Chucho by your side. 

“The funny thing is…I’ve forgiven her for everything because if she hadn’t fucked up, we would’ve never got together and had Maria.” You tell him and he nods, “exactly. We wouldn’t have our family. I love you.” Javi murmurs, not wanting to announce it to the entire produce section. 

You smile softly, reaching up to cup his cheek and you chuckle at the soft blush that appears, “I love you too. Come on, your dad wants that special bran cereal that always seems to sell out. Who the hell in this town eats bran cereal except your dad?” You snort and push the cart. 

Javi chuckles, following behind you with Maria in his arms and she snuggles into his chest, falling asleep. His eyes trace along your back and down to your ass and you stride through the grocery store and Javi thinks to himself, “I’ll follow her to the ends of the earth and back.”

[emperorundying]

TLT Dashboard Simulator- Pt 5

💀 drearybruh Follow

10,000 y/o lyctor gf who exclusively calls me 'lovey': Ugh they're still debating the ethics of using cavaliers as a resource to suck dry, I can't deal with this empire today.

me [heard 'suck dry cavaliers' and got so hard i got nauseous]: I think I hauve devils in me

(2,710 notes)

🫁 soulosexualll

omg guys im so sorry ive been MIA!!! the alexandrite id been talking about won custody over our baby so i had a bit of a crisis about my future on the fifth house alone and loved only by the spirits. and then of course i visit the third over vacation and get roped into a multi-week bender [have u ever snorted dried marrow? life changing] and then i was lost on the third for likeeeee four days and had to find my way back through hitchhiking and bartering with my own blood.

but i promise ill update my Joy/Patience/Duty threesome fic soon :333

#rpf #munposting #EEEEEEE GET EXCITED GUYS #joy strap time? joy strap time.... #i see ur messages in the askbox and i super appreciate them btw but i cant justify answering all of them #BUT I SEE U AND I LOVE U <33

(42 notes)

🦴 skeletal-system-bracket

SKELETAL SYSTEM BRACKET ROUND 3 GROUP A

We had two ties last round [within a margin of error of .1%!!] , so we decided it would make the most sense to make this a four-way poll. Propaganda:

Occipital Bone: do you want an unprotected cerebellum??? the infernal surface is groovy af, and all the nuchal lines are actually goated. are u seriously going to look me in the eyes and tell me the three-part bone of all time [father son and holy spirit, anyone?] can even be stepped to by some normie basic bone shit???????? cmon..... [via. @skullfuckbonegod]

Fibula: VOTE FIBULA!!!! bone with a best friend <3 Tibia already got out round 1 so its ur legal duty to stand up for its legbestie... also my hounds r named Fibula and Tibia and theyre adorbsies [via. @sodiumradiation]

Thoracic Vertibrae: twelve bones. twelve bones, one combined goal: fuck shit up, take names, keep that back backing. least commonly injured part of the spine for a reason. its built different. this shit protects ur spinal cord, provides attachments to your ribs, supports your chest and abdomen, and literally lets yr body move. objective best bones. [via. @ithinkthereforisam]

Scalpula: Scapula sweep!! Those are your angel wings. Watching your Cavs shoulder blades move under their skin while they carry a big sword is the best part of being a necro. They're also just such a good plane of bone they're perfect for breaking up into little pieces for bone adepts to store in their pockets. Also the attachment point for a bunch of muscles!!and the yummy little joint cavity… [via. @kavkisser]

#polls #tumblr polls #skeletal system #tibia #fibula #vertebrae #scalpula

(450 notes)

📷 devoutofmymind Follow

ARE YOU GUYS SERIOUS WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE EMPEROR HASN'T COMMENTED ON HIS FIRST AND SECOND'S SAINTS DISAPPEARANCES

📷 devoutofmymind Follow

For my Edenite followers this is like if gun disappeared

#ARE THEY DEAD??? #Bro r we upping the fascism factor #STAFF THAT TAG IS A JOKE. I WOULD NEVER DREAM OF INSURGENCY

12,345 notes

🫀 gorewanker Follow

I swear they're like the septum piercing havers of cavaliering 😭😭😭

🦀 xx-0ct0g0ne-xx Follow

Ah. So you're unable to handle the pressures which are expected of the average Eighth House devotee, and as such, fall back upon insecure insults. Get a life + Praying for you + L.

(923 notes)

👤 boobmonger-deactivated-2917220

holy shit tower prince announcement this is crazy. liveblog time

👤 boobmonger-deactivated-2917220

TRANSMASC AWE??????????

(3,891 notes)

🦷 bitingyoubitingyoubitingyoubitingyoux3 Follow

(14,088 notes)

☠️ is-the-emperor-undying-d34d-yet Follow

NOT YET BUT WE ALWAYS COME BACK

[hasarjunadoneanythingwrong]

arjuna bby ofccc 🥺🥺🥺

gonna wrap this up by doing arjuna and arjuna alter! shockingly the arjuna blog got a few entries for arjuna...incredible....

but yes, this is the last ask i'll be doing i did 11 of these so i think thats probably fair

favorite thing about them

everything. well

for arjuna i like that he feels pressured to perform perfectly at all times but still cant help resenting that that same performance doesnt come naturally to him like it seems to do with other people. i find it very relatable. i like the gap of him simultaneously being incredibly confident to the point of seeming smug in his abilities in things that he is familiar with/can practice, and his deep insecurity with basically everything else (especially when they're less tangible and unable to be practiced.) the fact that he seems to find himself unworthy of being loved if he isnt useful or helpful in some way is incredibly familiar to me, so it bothers me to see people miss that side of his character and brush him off as arrogant when a lot of it is overcompensating on things he knows he's good at so he can prove he's valuable. i find his sadness, anger and resentment that he masks and tries to downplay incredibly human and its been really nice seeing him grow out from his inital withdrawn confines.

also ngl i've wanted to shoot my older brother's head off as well but i know id probably react like him after. probably. maybe.

also i like his fluffy hair and pretty eyes

i also like how arjuna alter functions both initially as a mirror reflecting arjuna's own toxic perfectionism back onto the world around him, showing how the continuation of that ideal harms not only yourself but the people around you, and how he functions later as a glimpse into what arjuna was like prior to some of the most defining events of his life. what little glimmers we've seen of him are both incredibly compelling and incredibly tragic as someone who's lost their identity and reason for being the way they are. we know nothing of how he ended up the way he is, and hes a shell of the person he was. and yet even so, he was able to retain some small sense of self, and although he'll never be the same as his old self he can still have a life and form a new purpose

also i like how hes a cute kitty :3

least favorite thing about them

*passes the fate writers $5* write him interacting or thinking about literally anyone other than karna for the love of god

ditto for arjuna alter and also i want him to have more backstory bc i KNOW he could be really good its just. they wont do it.

favorite line

all of them. all of them

but also

t. thanks. im gonna go. go cry for a little bit thank you

i also liked arjuna alter's voiced lb4 scene where he was dying bc he sounded totally fucked up then and it was awesome (painful) but i cant be bothered to look up a link atm

brOTP

calling whatever he and parvati have going on a 'brotp' is probably not accurate but i do quite like their interactions. its very sweet.

other than that i also like his (canon) friendships/interactions with jason, circe, georgios, and orion. oh and martha and gorgon!

also i think he and karna would be funny as obnoxious siblings :p

arjuna alter is even less social, somehow, but its kind of funny to imagine him still hanging around limbo. 0 stranger danger radar. im choosing to decide hes more friends with cu alter as well to contrast with me making arjuna and medb hang out more. i mean they do show up in the same cbc so legally i can do that.

OTP

gudajuna canon fite me. i do have a bias for gay stuff but i still think its very sweet w gudako. i can and will ship basically anyone with arjuna which is why im holding back from just listing 70 people and i can come up w several more on the spot but tbh outside of the mc maybe like...his irl wivesandkrishna

also him and taking a fucking nap and chilling out. Tbh this over anything else I’m not primarily gunning for romance in fgo which may sound strange but c’est la vie

nOTP

im going to fucking solo a hgw on my own just so i can purge the world of karjuna/junakar permanently thats how much i hate it

random headcanon

arjuna was totally invited to the 'religion group' by someone (georgios or martha probably) who was trying to make it less christian (sanzang attends its only fair) and remembered the bhaghvad gita exists.

arjuna spends like 75% of his day in spiritual meditation the game just doesnt mention it

arjuna alter has chronic fatigue

arjuna alter's horns have blood vessels in them. why not

unpopular opinion

he should kill karna again. fuck everything

stupid comment aside i wouldnt actually hate them revisiting arjuna vs karna again IF (this is a very big big if) they actually delved into their actual history with each other. like explicitly stated in text why they started beefing, mentioned the things BOTH sides did to each other, looked at the opinions of BOTH sides about their relationship just yknow actually give it some fucking depth other than them yelling at each other for what (to someone unfamiliar w the og epic) seems like basically nothing? except some vague jealous feelings on one side? which is hardly enough to keep beefing for over 2000 years but what do i know

for arjuna alter my unpopular opinion is they looked at him and were like 'we could do this better' and wrote morgan and i want them to go back to him and give him a backstory as well.

and also he should have a summer alt. he deserves it

song i associate with them

*activates my emo gland*

for arjuna

for arjuna alter

favorite picture of them

theres so many of them tbh but atm ive been thinking of this one. whats even going on here. are they having a rap battle. are they assigning each other fursonas

[granulesofsand]

Minor Rights

🗝️🏷️ child maltreatment

I want children to have the right to consent and the right to refuse.

It should be easy for a child to use their own documentation, even if they’re assigned an adult within that agency to use it as directed.

Parents should not be the ones to hold rights to legal action. Children (or a previously unknown adult acting with them) should be able to

enroll a child in school

maintain a passport

see a doctor

leave home

find housing beyond a select few shelters

open a police report or investigation

and more.

Nobody should be signing off on

placing a child somewhere they specifically object to

marriage brought up by anyone but the child, who is above a cut-off age

forcing an actively distressed child into a new environment (schools, relatives’ homes, not even a carnival ride)

Children should have enough agency to keep themselves safe and developmentally independent, with the priority on safe.

We were a street kid for years, because our parents were not safe. We were surrounded by street kids, who were also unhoused due to safety or circumstance.

None of us could get IDs, we had to beg for extensions and hope our ‘caregivers’ would enroll us in school or pay our bills. We taught each other how to shoplift, break locks, hide from security — just so we could stay alive.

And if those caregivers wanted us brought back to them, we would be escorted by police and cuffed/zip-tied to prevent slipping away.

All of us had drawn the local CPS over at least once, most several times, and the furthest I ever saw it taken was a temp placement with an abusive extended family.

And those were the years it was escapable, after we spent most of our childhood entirely unable to get away. We saw kids die, but even when they found the bodies nobody did anything. The authorities believed that it was an accident or a stranger or a sickness.

Ah yes, the age old sickness of drowning on dry land. Don’t you just worry that an inebriated driver will hit you with a car and leave you sexually assaulted? The evidence was right there, and yet… nothing. Totally sucks when a coyote disembowels your 8-year-old though.

Some of those kids we still talk to — the ones who survived this long, at least. And we could have saved ourselves. We wanted to! But it was against policy, and they didn’t want to cause a ruckus.

I know it’s not the workers who did those things, but they didn’t help either. And it could have been different. It could be different.

I don’t know how to make it different, but I want to try. It hurt so much then, and it isn’t going to go away. We could at least make it easier to make it to adulthood.

[samgirl98]

Orion Called Cepheus 1/2

Next

Danny stared at the yellowed wallpaper of the motel room where he and Jazz were staying. Water dripped from the ceiling into a bucket between his and Jazz’s bed. The dripping sound was driving him insane. Danny tried to ignore the thunderstorm that was raging outside their room. The winds buffeted the windows, making them rattle. Danny shook a little every time lightning struck.

He couldn’t ignore his sister’s silent tears.

Danny didn’t know if it was his new, younger body or the guilt of making his sister give up her life, but he felt misery overwhelm him. Spectra would have the time of her afterlife feeding off him. He held back his tears until he heard Jazz’s breath even out in sleep.

He sat up, his legs swinging, unable to reach the floor.

Danny had fucked up.

His parents—no—the Fentons, had invented a new weapon so that ghosts would revert to their ‘true’ selves, and they wouldn’t be able to trick anyone.

It had unintended consequences.

Danny had thought he would lose the stylized ‘DP’ on his suit if he were to be hit. That hadn’t happened.

Danny had gotten in front of the beam when Maddie had shot at Cujo. The next thing he knew, he was eight years old with a sword sticking out of his chest. Ectoplasm slowly wept from the wound. He was wearing his League of Assassin’s garb, but they were all black instead of white. Green tears fell from his eyes. Then, Danny transformed back to his human form.

He had still been eight.

His parents had shot at him, demanding to know where their baby boy was. They blamed Phantom, saying he had killed Danny. The Fentons wouldn’t listen to Danny. He had tried to explain he was still Danny, just with a bit more extra.

They ignored him.

Danny rubbed his left shoulder where one of Maddie’s shots had hit him.

Jazz had thankfully been close. He had sent her a distress signal, and she picked him up. They both ran.

Tucker and Sam had been able to keep them updated with the Fenton phones they had rigged. The GIW was involved. The Fentons were screaming at anyone who would listen to them that Phantom had killed Danny, possessed him, and tricked Jazz into helping him. Most of Amity Park ignored them.

The GIW was another story.

Danny sighed.

The four of them devised a plan a while ago in case the Fentons ever learned about Danny, and things went south. Jazz had an emergency bag in her car with over ten grand in cash, courtesy of Sam. Tucker had come up with fake IDs and only had to press a button on his PDA so that they would be active.

One thing put a wrench in their plans: Danny was now eight.

At least he still had his powers but couldn’t use the ID Tucker had made for him. Jazz now had to prove that she was the legal guardian of a child, and Danny couldn’t do much in his younger form.

Worse still, he was ruining Jazz’s life. She should be getting ready to go to university to study psychology, or be a brain surgeon, or both, as she always said she would be. Instead, she was taking care of a deaged younger brother that wasn’t even biologically hers.

Danny couldn’t ruin Jazz’s life that way.

Danny could theoretically go into the Infinite Realms and live there. The problem was that he was still half-human, and his current younger body probably needed human food and other necessities more than his older self. So that was out.

He bit his bottom lip.

There was still one thing he could do: call Damian.

Damian.

Danny shuddered as he remembered the sword sticking out of his chest. It had been a duel to the death, but Danny never imagined Damian would actually do it. He still remembered the feeling of cold steel going through his heart. Then, the numbness and cold from blood loss. Danny knew if his mother hadn’t been fast enough to put him in a Lazarus Pit, he wouldn’t have made it.

As it was, he had died for a few minutes, according to her.

Danny wrapped his arms around himself. He didn’t want to call Damian.

Why should the Al Ghul failure call the heir to the Bat and the Demon’s head? Danny had been following the news in Gotham.

There was a new Robin. Danny would recognize Damian anywhere. Damian was a hero now, a member of the Teen Titans, while Danny couldn’t even protect one town. He couldn’t protect his sister or himself.

How would he even bring it up to his older twin brother?

Hey, Dami, sorry I haven’t talked to you in eight years; surprise, I’m—kinda—alive. By the way, I’m on the run from my adopted parents and a government organization bent on ending my half-life. Also, I’m half-ghost! Think I can stay with you and father while I’m deaged and can fix all this?

“Yeah, that would go great,” Danny whispered sarcastically.

Danny went back to staring at the wallpaper. Strips were falling off.

What should he do?

He turned when he heard his sister’s whimpers. Dried tear tracks decorated her cheeks. At the sight of them, Danny’s resolve hardened.

He didn’t care what Damian did to him. Jazz deserved to live her life.

Danny took a deep breath and did what he swore he would never do: he called his twin brother.

____

Damian and his father were taking off their suit in the Batcave when they heard Timothy’s shout of surprise. Both of them ran out to see what had Timothy so alarmed.

“Red Robin, report,” father barked out.

“Someone’s hacked the Batcomputer. I can’t kick them out. Oracle, are you seeing this?

“Yes,” came Gordon’s monotone voice, “whoever it is, they’re repeatedly sending the same message in code. I’m deciphering it right now.”

“Who could have hacked the computer,” Damian said, angry. Whoever it was going to find themselves on the sharp end of his sword—Damian’s thoughts went blank as the message was deciphered.

Cepheus, Orion needs help.

Damian’s breath got caught in his throat. It couldn’t be. His brother, Danyal, Orion, was dead. Only he, Damian, Cepheus, was still alive.

Damian walked up to the computer and pushed Timothy away. He ignored the older boy’s shout of indignation.

Cepheus, Orion needs help.

They had come up with that phrase in case Danyal had ever needed help. His brother had been a better shot, a better hunter, so they chose that constellation for him. Damian was the heir, the king—Cepheus.

With shaking fingers, Damian answered with a phrase of his own.

Speak, Hunter; the King listens.

Damian would bring his brother home if it were the last thing he did.

Danny woke up to the sound of knocking. Jazz opened her eyes and looked around, confused, before taking out the Fenton peeler and Anti-creep stick from under the bed.

“Wait, Jazz. I know who it is.”

“Danny, what? Who?”

Danny ignored his sister and opened the door despite her warning shout.

Danny was face-to-face with his twin brother for the first time in eight years.

“Orion, I’m here to take you home.”

The one thing I swore I’d never do… call my brother.

Danny got hit with a new weapon the Fentons had made, one that “reveals a ghosts true form, so they can’t trick us!” But instead of reverting to Danny Fenton, the teen, he’s reverted back to when he first died and was revived. AKA, after he lost a duel with his twin brother, as an 8 year old. (Or close to) So now Danny is on the run from his parents and the GiW with Jazz. He doesn’t want to ruin Jazz’s life, so he does the one thing he swore he’d never do…

Call his twin brother and ask for help. Who happens to be Robin. As an 8 year old. Instead of 16. Yeah, this’ll go great.

[strike-back-now-info]

My Son Chance has been taken.

PLEASE SHARE MY STORY. WE NEED HELP

My Son Chance has been taken, and Liberty County will not help.

By Eric Berber, his Non-custody father, is on drugs and SUICIDAL and has a history of trying to kill himself. And has no legal rights to him. He is not even on the birth record.

Ashley Hicks

Video link

https://youtu.be/iL4yVbSxuYo

 I have tried hard not to put my business on social media.

 However, my sons' father, Eric Berber, is trying his hardest to shake me and make me out to be a bad person.

I left Eric recently after he choked me and threatened to kill me.

He was choking me, and as I tried to get him off me, he started biting me.

Soon after, I ended up in the hospital due to my diabetes.

I have diabetes, and Eric would hide my medicine from me.

He's always been controlling and emotionally abusive but has worsened over the past two years.

He stays doped up between marijuana and meth.

Once I left the hospital, I had nowhere to go, but thankfully found someone to help me.

Now Eric and his family won't return me to my son or belongings.

I have been unable to work due to my Illness, and Eric never liked me having " friends."

The last year I was with him, I was not " allowed" to have a phone.

I was forced to cut off contact with any friends or family I had left, like my sister.

I have many screenshots of Eric threatening me, "disowning" my son's chance.

That's ok because Eric isn't even on chance birth certificate.

All I want is to move past him and have my son.

I literally almost died having my son, and now Eric & his family are hiding him from me.

The entire family is fucked up.

They knew the abuse Eric was doing to me and never not once stepped in to help me.

Now I don't have my son. He has my social security card, ID, and everything I had at their house.

But honestly, all that can be replaced besides my son.

There still holding my child against me. I need help

[kedreeva]

OK OK SO LISTEN OK HEAR ME OUT I AM VERY VERY MUCH WELL ON MY EAY TO ACTUALLY WATCHING THIS BIT H OF A SHOW JUST BECAUSE EVERY TIME YOU TELL ME MORE ABOUT IT the broken ass fucking thing in ny brain that controls my serotonin levels goes _Ping_ and i get to experience The Happy but LISTEN here the fucking issue ive got an absolute bitch of an executive dysfunction and main issue: everything i know about thr show and everything that makes my brain go HYPERFIXATION TIME is shit from like,, the last 2 seasons ig mostly and like on a Theoretical fucking level i am well aware that once i start watching ill start enjoying it from the first coupke episodes (whatever deity may or may not be out there ought to just strike me down already at this point my previous self from like 5 years ago would strangle me if that fucker knew ehat our stupid bitch of a brain latched to amd decided to sing praises to in the end) but like The Things that currently have me in the headlock when it comes to the damned show Wont be There yet and even though i logically know it doesnt matter cause ill enjoy the rest too stupid piece of shit brain goes "must watch 2 seasons just to get there? Must watch 2 seasins to get to the Serotonin? Not in this energy crisis" so im Stuck unable to Watch it and Wanting to and reading and looking at SO much fucking fancontent cause goddamn the fucking fandom is talented fuck yall

Also i really appreciate your offer regarding the poll its v sweet of you but unfortunately its got a local target audience since its for a project that will begin at a local stage (and if i get my way slowly grow bigger until it reaches nationwide level but yeah v low hopes for it to get that far) and also since the whole project thing is basically a part of a far larger project thing with lots of smaller teams like us and shit and the reason im part of the whole shebang is that a professor of mine decided to place me on her team without even asking ive gotta make the poll using my Proper™ account which not only means sharing my deadname but also my last name (in short my whole legal name) so yeah big fucking mess thats going to shit anyway but i really appreciate the intention its v sweet (also as you hopefully have figured out i am VERY shit at explaining anything on a manner that makes sense but also im my defence it Is currently 3am where i am so yeah id like to throw a teeny bit of the blame for my inability to communicate on that)

Go to SLEEP.

But before you do I need you to look me in the fucking eyes, and understand this: season 1 is absolutely fantastic. Season 1 is still my favorite season. Not only do you get to meet all the amazing characters as babies, but the plots.... oh, the plots. oh. the storylines in season 1 are all fucking gorgeous, Delightful.

okayokay, listen. listen.

I gotta calm down a second because season 1 is so good, but listen

Season 1 does something that's so incredibly difficult to pull off, and not only did they pull it off, they pulled it off with flying colors. They told three narratives that were all part of one narrative, expertly braiding them together until suddenly they have all come together and everything crescendos and hhhhhh it's bliss. It's fucking bliss.

You have the first plot, and that's a kid's adventure plot. It is the genre of plot where you have a bunch of kids who get into a supernatural shenanigan with a New Friend, completely under the noses of the oblivious adults. This is some ET shit, some Earth to Echo shit. They've got to hide their New Weird Friend from the adults, and they are the ONLY ONES capable of saving her. High Child Adventure Time. They're riding their bikes and yelling over their radios and doing things only children would think to do in an attempt to keep El safe.

Then you have the second plot, with Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve (and arguably tommy and carol). This is a teenage monster horror flick w/ bonus romance. This is "one of the teenagers got killed/taken by a monster and the rest of the teens have to survive/cope with it/hunt the monster down together" genre. Nancy and Steve are busy getting into romance and then crashing and burning it because Nancy knows there's monsters and Steve has no idea, but Jonathan knows there's monsters, and now they're teaming up to fight back right up until Steve crash lands in the middle of the event and picks up the nailbat the first time. Delightful, you have to understand. You have to know. The first time Steve weilds the nailbat, he twirls it. And that twirl is.... fucking everything. That twirl lives rent free in my head for eternity.

You have to understand. This entire scene leading up to this is pure fucking gold. Steve is beat the fuck up after picking a fight with Jonathan (and losing), and he's come over to Jonathan's house to apologize to him, because he realized he's been an asshole. Who DOES that first of all. Second of all, this is AFTER he went and made amends with the theater he and tommy and carol defaced to be mean to nancy, and before he's apologized to nancy herself; he's coming to jonathan's house, alone, at night, to apologize to Jonathan, not because he knows Nancy is there, but because it's the right thing to do.

And then Nancy opens the door and okay, he had guessed they were... a thing, maybe, so that's not totally unexpected, but then he sees her hand. He sees the bandage on her hand, the blood they were using to draw the monster, and he has NO IDEA monsters exist still. He pushes into the house because he thinks Jonathan hurt Nancy, only to find Jonathan is also sporting a bandage, and also there's like. weapons all over the fucking place and christmas lights and Nancy's yelling at him to leave and she pulls a fucking gun on him and tells him he has 5 seconds to gtfo, and as if that wasn't enough, a literal monster claws through the ceiling, drops down and starts trying to eat them all. Nancy's firing a gun at it right up until Jonathan grabs her around the middle and bodily hauls her away from danger, grabs Steve's hand with his other hand, and hauls his partners down the hall to safety.

Down the hall where, you know, he and Nancy put a fucking bear trap on the ground. A bear trap steve does not know about but when Jonathan yells JUMP, do you know. Steve doesn't even stop to ask how high. he just fucking jumps. He's freaking out and the monster seems to disappear and they tell him to leave because it's going to come back and he makes it all the way to his car before realizing... he can't fucking leave them there. so he goes charging right back into danger, and good fucking thing too, because Jonathan's been disarmed and nancy's out of bullets and the demogorgon is still coming after her, and Steve gets there just in time to scoop up Jonathans nailbat (which FYI, was made from Nancy's bat, with Jonathan's nails, and now Steve wields it, as if I NEEDED OT3 feels) and start wailing on the monster until it's beaten back into the trap and they can set it on fire.

LIKE. SEASON 1 JUST HAS THAT???

and then!!! there's also the ADULT plotline, which is of the government conspiracy theory genre, as Joyce refuses to believe her son Will is dead and Hopper doesn't agree until actually he finds out she's RIGHT and the corpse was a FAKE and then HE is in on it and they are desperately trying to figure out what the fuck the LAB was doing with all its secrets.

And Delightful.... I have to say. Watching these three plotlines converge.... I've watched the first season dozens of times by this point. Chef's kiss. They all come together and realize they've all been dealing with facets of the same problem, and they move forward together to save Will and take down the monster and the lab that caused the problem. Oh my GOD.

And that's not even speaking of the characters. You will be adopting every child. Season 1 mike is the best mike. I would kill for season 1 nancy but she's got it covered. Season 1 Steve shows you his capacity for being a bitch, which is WHY the later seasons are so amazing with him being a good guy. You have to be able to remember the moment he took Jonathan's camera from him, jonathan's most prized possession, probably the most expensive and difficult to replace thing Jonathan owns, and smashes it on the pavement. You have to experience him writing (or allowing Tommy to write) "Nancy Wheeler is a SLUT" on the movie theater announcement board on main street. You have to see him shove Jonathan and say "always figured you for a queer" in order to understand how far he's come when he sits on the bathroom floor with Robin and softly says "oh." and still looks at her like she hung the moon. You have to see how much the kids care about each other when they are all in one place or you will never survive the catty nonsense they go through in season 3. SEASON 1 MATTERS SO MUCH.

a;sjga;hjsr;hrh;jkfjhgsdfhjd;l

There's SO MUCH about season 1!!! I'm supposed to be writing stories right now, so I'm gonna leave it here but please know you will not be slogging through 2 seasons to get to 3 and 4. You'll be watching the best season, a good season, and then arrive at when the plot kind of sucks but the characters have a chokehold on your heart so it doesn't matter.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Talking Points

I know that the UK doesn’t get all that much play in international news. I don’t blame anybody. The US tends to dominate, and for international news there’s generally Ukraine to focus on. So I don’t go running around screaming WHY ISN’T ANYONE TALKING ABOUT THIS?!?

I just talk about it.

I talk about how much profit the electric companies are raking in while we try to set up ‘warmth banks’ in libraries and the like but can’t because over a decad of Tory austerity is making it impossible for those libraries to stay open under normal circumstances, never mind get enough funding to have the heating on. How food banks are shutting down not because they’re not needed but because people can’t afford to donate to them, and how those that are open are having to turn away donations of far too many things (root vegetables, in the main - some of the cheapest healthiest ways to eat) because people turn them down for not being able to afford the energy needed to cook them. About how PM-to-be Truss keeps saying that corporate tax cuts will benefit everyone by encouraging corporations to keep their prices low, when we all see how they use tax cuts not to make their goods or services more affordable but to do stock buy-backs and enrich themselves at our expense.

Speaking of PM-to-be Truss, I talk about how she’s not exactly giving specifics about how she wants to scrap labour laws, but has stated that she plans to “deregulate aspects of the economy” because she insists that “UK workers are the laziest in the world” and “we need to be competitive in the global market”. When you consider that we already have the stingiest workers’ rights in Europe, you can imagine how much worse it can get. I see scrapping the 48-hour work week and holiday entitlement, because she’s already hinted as much. I see further reduction of maternity and paternity leave, and even stingier rules about paid sick leave, and probably stingier statutory sick pay too. I also see a crackdown on the labour unions, because she’s outright said that’s what she wants to do. While she says it’s all about “not disrupting things for normal people”, what she means is “people being unable to get to work costs our rich corporate donors money and meeting the strikers’ demands would cost them more money so let’s shut this shit down so that the plebs will sit down, shut up, and eat the shit we’ve given them”. Given that Truss has literally said that it’s entirely fair to prioritise the most well-off in society when it comes to tax cuts and economic graces ... you can see where the people rate in her view.

I talk about the Elections Bill. I talk about how we’re going to have voter ID introduced, and yet we still have heard nothing about how to apply for the free voter card we’ve been told we can have. About how senior railcards are seen as valid photo ID but student railcards are not. About how expensive passports are and how slow and backlogged the passport office has been since the end of the Brexit transition period - not to mention how they’re using the state of the passport office to insist on it needing to be privatised.

I also talk about the Elections Bill in the context of “it puts the Elections Commission more closely under government control”. Presumably because the Tories watched Trump try to get people to throw the election in his favour and were smart enough to set the legal procedures in place to do it properly.

I talk about the Police, Crime, Sentencing, and Courts Act. About how most forms of protest have been outright criminalised. About how they can legally shut down protests for any reason, up to and including, “You’re annoying someone”. Which is, the last time I checked, the point of a protest. It also ignores data protection and confidentiality rules by demanding information about everyone (including victims and children) from whatever sources they deem fit, whether or not it’s applicable. Also gives the police greater stop and search powers - anywhere they want, any time they want, for whatever reason they want to make up. Also basically makes Gypsy, Roma, and Traveller encampments illegal. Not to mention the whole thing about forcing trans women to be incarcerated in men’s prisons, and vice versa.

I talk about the treatment of trans people in general. While a lot of people are pretty much okay with the whole concept, the government is not. The government that more or less controls our access to trans-affirming healthcare (and are behaving a lot like some US states about it). The government that insists so strongly that “biological sex is all-important” that they argue with the phrasing of “people who have ovaries” on a piece of advice about diagnosing and treating ovarian cancer. The government whose prime minister at the time (and technically still is, the rumpled pile of medical waste that he is) was proud to go on record as saying that trans women shouldn’t compete in women’s sport, and was backed by most of his government. This is the country that shaped JK Rowling; do not forget that. (Let’s face it, however much a poor single mother she was when she wrote the first Harry Potter book, she went high-octane Tory the red-hot minute she had enough money to sit on like a dragon on its hoard.)

Now, a lot of this goes against international human rights law. So I talk about the fact that the UK wants to entirely quit the European Court of Human Rights and make its own human rights laws. Given the above, how do you think that bill of human rights is going to look? We’ve already had our rights whittled down to the point where more than a few organisations are looking our way and going, “Um ... you know this is bad, right?” If we’re ever in a position where the ECHR doesn’t apply, everyone but the very rich in this country is fucking doomed.

Not that we aren’t already.

This is the country in which I now live. It terrifies me a little more every day. I don’t expect everybody to be talking about it. It’s not like anyone who doesn’t live here can do anything about it anyway. But I talk about it. I have to talk about it. I know it’s bad in other countries. I know that the US varies from state to state in how much bullshit they’re forced to eat regularly. I know Canada has its problems and Alberta’s the worst of a bad lot. I know the situation in Ukraine, and brewing issues in Taiwan, and Argentina, and Somalia, and... You get the idea. I do not diminish any of their situations. Thing is ... sometimes I just need to talk about mine. Because honestly I don’t know what else to do.

I am femme nonbinary in a country where the gender binary is all, so I’m afraid to come out. I remain in the closet about that, and about my sexuality or lack thereof, because it doesn’t feel safe. I am disabled in a country whose health service is being deliberately eroded to encourage a sell-off and turn to an insurance-based US-ish model. I have dietary restrictions that make cheap food literally impossible for me to eat, since they thicken everything with wheat flour and the last time I did a personal gluten challenge, I ended up with an upset stomach for a month and dangerously low vitamin D levels. (I must actually have coeliac, given that one of the things coeliac does is interfere with vitamin D uptake). It is only my insane pain tolerance (which allows me to work at least part-time) and the support of my parentals that allows me to survive, and also to not completely lose my shit.

This country hates me. This country hates me and everyone like me. And the Conservative party have stacked the deck so much in their favour that I have a horrible feeling that this is only going to get worse, because they’re not going away. We’ll try - gods, how we’ll try - but when they make it so hard for those without money to vote, and have the Electoral Commission in their hands ... I struggle to see how we’re going to succeed. And with protest largely off the table, I look to the future and see riots. Then again, is that really worse than the alternative - which at the moment is apathy and terror?

I’ve talked about this as much as I can, I think. Sometimes it has to be said. It just can’t be dwelled upon either. I can’t take to the streets with a Molotov cocktail and a brick. All I can do is talk. And when it gets to the point where I feel the tears threatening, I have to step away. I am of no help to myself or anyone else if I am a sobbing ball of nervous breakdown in a corner.

Just ... if you have a spare second, please send kind thoughts to the people of the UK. It isn’t a major talking point, I know, but there are a lot of tired, angry, terrified, drained, and miserable people on this little spit of land in the North Sea. They could all probably use a virtual hug. I know I could.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Misread Details: Robert

CW: Dehumanizing language, BBU blanket warning, serial killer/death talk, descriptions of death/abduction/murder, blood, whumper death, some real vague implied noncon references, creepy whumper, sadistic whumper

Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert

The Dark Discovery in Robert Weber’s Basement: Box Boy Killer, Part 3

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee

3 days ago

After Part One, where we learned about the mysterious, but possibly entirely natural, death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, and Part Two, where we saw Henry “Brute” Hanlon’s double life lead to his untimely gruesome murder, you see the single thread that connects these two men who otherwise never met, interacted, or even shared a single person in common… a nameless Box Boy, present at the death of Nanda even if he isn’t responsible for it, and the proven killer of Brute.

It’s my theory that this Box Boy may have accidentally killed his legal owner, Nanda, and then picked up a taste for the act and moved on to taking shelter with those he turns into his victims.

With Brute, he simply didn’t know the man had a wife and children and entire other life, and may have assumed no one would come looking for him or recognize his death. With our third individual, Robert Weber, it seems like our Box Boy Serial Killer got in over his head.

I give you… the Accidental Vigilante death of Robert Weber.

You decide if our unknown killer is simply the unluckiest guy in the world or a killer who even now may be somewhere living with - and earning the trust of - his next victim.

-

One bright and sunny day in the quaint, old-fashioned California town of Rancher’s Rest, Robert Weber was late for work.

Weber worked in a vehicle repair business owned by lifelong “RR” resident Randy Niles, who had known Weber since his childhood and had been his boss since Weber was eighteen years old and fresh out of high school.

Niles, who is now nearly seventy-five and still spends his days in the shop with an Australian Shepherd named Cody and a blind pit bull named Sue keeping him company everywhere he goes, stated that Weber had no living family he knew of beyond his sister in Vermont, and he was just about the closest thing Weber had to a relative just from having known him so long.

“He didn’t have too much to do with his sister,” Randy said in an interview with Unsolved Mysteries. (You can see the interview on the new Netflix reboot of the show! It’s a really good episode, definitely recommend. It’s how I got into this case in the first place.) “Or nobody, really. Just us at work, the guys at the bar, that kinda thing. He was quiet, kept to himself really. You’d never just strike up a chat around town or anything. But he got on just fine with the boys here in the shop. He was a bit of an egghead, too, always going on about this thing or that he’d seen on the news. Little… odd. Little bit off, you might say. But really, who isn’t? In any case, you know, I’d known him since he was a little boy, so he was just Bobby Weber to me.”

Then, of course, one day Robert Weber didn’t show up to work. Randy Niles immediately felt that something was very wrong.

“When nine, nine-thirty came and went and he wasn’t there,” Niles said, “I knew someone needed to go check on him. Bobby showed up for work right on time or ten minutes early, rain or shine, for twenty years. My first thought was maybe he’d had an accident at home, or some kind of, you know, health thing. Almost never called in sick, took one vacation a year, that kinda thing. So I drove right on over there. This would’ve been, oh, probably ten or ten-fifteen when I got to the house. Had my dogs with me, and they never did like Bobby much, but as soon as I opened my door and got out of my truck they just lost their damn minds. Barking, growling, Cody’s hackles were up like you wouldn’t believe. I know it sounds damn crazy, but I’m sure those dogs could smell that evil had been done in that house.”

On camera, Niles goes quiet, here, his gaze slipping away from the interviewer as he scratches at the side of his nose. When he looks back, the hint of good humor that seems to be an eternal part of his expression is gone.

“I didn’t know what Bobby had been up to all this time. None of us knew. I’ve known Bobby Weber his whole life, and I… I had no idea.”

Randy Niles was unable to convince his two dogs to exit the truck, and eventually rolled down the windows to give them some air and a way out if they chose (he is insistent on this point in the Unsolved Mysteries episode - “don’t you dare say I left my dogs locked up in a truck on a sunny day, I sure didn’t - Cody even knows how to pull a door handle if it’s the right kind”) and got out to knock on Robert Weber’s front door.

No one answered.

Niles knocked again. Still no response.

The front door was locked, but Niles was able to locate an unlocked back door into the garage, where he found Weber’s car neatly parked and nothing out of place. However, once he used an interior door in the garage to enter Weber’s home, what he found was so shocking he still struggles to describe it today.

“The, uh. The first thing I saw,” Niles says in the Unsolved Mysteries episode, wiping at his mouth with a handkerchief, “was a cage. Big old cage in the living room. Like a kennel for a big dog, Great Dane or something, except… except, you know, kennels’re usually mostly wire, not that heavy. You can fold ‘em up, put ‘em away. This was… geez. This was pure metal. Bunch of blankets all piled at the bottom, too. Here’s the-... you know, my mind just didn’t want to even make the thought, but I just, I looked at it and-”

In the episode, Niles has to take another moment, here. His eyes grow wet, and his voice is hoarse when he speaks again. “People cage. Bobby had a damn man-sized cage in his living room. That’s when my stomach just fell out. Even then, though, I couldn’t-... I just thought, oh, well, what people get up to in their own homes is their business. But still, I just. I just decided, find Bobby, figure the rest out later. So I kept walking around looking for him.”

Randy Niles continued to call out, hoping to hear Weber’s response, but received none… at first. The radio in the kitchen was playing a local public radio station (“Bobby always hated the country western and classic rock we played at work, he was a big news man, big into classical, jazz, you know.”)

Niles noticed, he says, that the cage next to the couch had a wooden top, as though it were meant to act as a side table, and on that table was a small woven basket. Inside the basket appeared to be several State IDs and Driver’s licenses. Niles took note of this but his first assumption was maybe that Robert Weber had stolen some IDs or something.

Which was technically true, just… not quite the way he thought.

The kitchen, hallway, and all three bedrooms were equally empty of life. Every room was clean, everything neatly in place. Empty bottles of Jameson whiskey, Weber’s favorite brand, were lined up like décor along the mantel, and one half-full bottle was next to two clean, empty glasses on the kitchen table.

Even the beds were perfectly made.

The only thing missing was any sign of Robert Weber himself.

The question of Weber’s whereabouts was answered when Randy Niles heard a sound coming from the open door to Weber’s unfinished dirt basement.

“Like a ghost,” Niles said in his interview. “Just this low moaning sound. Hardly even thought of it as human, you know. But I just-... I called out, ‘Bobby? That you?’ and the moaning got a little louder, like whoever it was was tryin’ to answer. I could still hear my girls in the truck just going nuts, probably worried about me knowing what they maybe could smell even out there. I figured… I figured I’d best call the cops and get them out here. Seemed like a plan. So I picked up my phone and dialed, and then I headed down those basement steps.”

What Randy Niles discovered in Robert Weber’s basement was a dying man, battered and stabbed eight times, lying in a half-dug grave.

Robert Weber had been beaten with the very shovel that had done the digging. The shovel lay off to the side, caked in dirt and blood. Police would find some of Robert Weber’s hair on it, too. Then, the individual who had beaten him had gone back upstairs - blood smears were found on the railing to the stairs - and taken a kitchen knife out of the knife block on the countertop. A bloody fingerprint was found on the side of the knife block. They had then returned to the basement where Weber was stabbed, almost entirely through the stomach and chest, twenty-six times, until the cheap knife simply broke from the force.

Randy Niles admitted in his interview that he became very ill at this time. “From the shock,” He elaborated. “I haven’t been able to smell much since I was in a car wreck when I was young, so I didn’t smell what-... what my girls prob’ly smelled from outside, and what the cops smelled. To me, it was just… just a little off, is all. It was the sight of it that got to me, not the smell. The sight of the-... the hand.”

Behind Robert Weber’s body, the hand of another person was sticking up out of the loose dirt, as though someone was trying to dig their way out.

“I remember… I remember her nail polish was pink. That’s when I got sick, actually, was when I saw that hand with the painted nails. That’s when it just hit me all at once what Bobby had done.”

Randy Niles went back up the stairs and waited for the cops to arrive. Rancher’s Rest is a small town where everybody knows just about everybody else, and Niles was on a first-name basis with every single police officer he spoke to that day and in the days after. He would learn alongside the investigation that Robert Weber was not simply the quiet, intellectual car mechanic he had always seemed.

Instead, Robert Weber was a serial killer whose potential final victim had managed a miraculous, deadly escape.

Robert Weber never answered a single question about his own murder - he never fully regained consciousness and died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. His injuries were simply too severe. His autopsy showed that the cause of death was a stab wound that went deep into his chest and that he was first stabbed only after the beating with the shovel had taken place. Like Brute, most of his stab wounds were applied post-mortem in a rage rather than as part of the killing itself.

Medical examiners also found scratches on Weber’s face and arms, indicating that he had attempted to defend himself - or someone else had attempted to defend themself from him.

So why was Robert Weber killed, and why was there already a body in his basement? Investigators would piece together the story over the following days and weeks from a crime scene that only seemed to become darker and more baffling as time went on.

Excavating the basement was originally thought to be something that would be brief, but after the first body was removed, another one was found beneath it. Then another off to the side of that. And another, although this was simply bones.

Every time the forensics team thought they’d found the last human bone, they dug a little deeper or in a new spot and found more.

Eventually, the remains of twenty-two individuals would be removed from the basement of Robert Weber’s home, not including Weber himself. The oldest located victim was identified as Melinda Traxson, an Iowa woman reported missing by her family after she ran away in March of 1996… more than two decades before Robert Weber didn’t come to work one day.

Investigators are still working to match up every body with a missing persons’ case. For nearly all of them, the cause of death could not be easily ascertained due to the deterioration of the remains, but some showed signs of skull fractures. Identified individuals so far include:

Melinda Traxson, 19, from Iowa, ran away from home in 1996.

Billie Mortimer, 21, disappeared from a day out with friends at Lake Tahoe one year later in the summer of 1997. Her friends went to get lunch from the car after a swim and when they returned, she was gone.

Matthew Ranger, 22, went missing during a road trip to Yellowstone National Park in 1997 (only five months after Billie). His car was found abandoned by the side of the road with a flat tire.

Karl Janssen, 24, a tourist from the Netherlands who was also visiting Yellowstone, disappeared a month after Matthew. Last seen by an employee of the park who witnessed him speaking with another young man and getting into the man’s car. The employee said that the two seemed to be friendly with one another and did not seem like strangers.

Hannah Pointer, 26. She was reported missing in 1999 by her mother after failing to return home from work in Reno, Nevada. This disappearance occurred more than a year after Karl Janssen’s. Investigators would later discover that during this time period, Robert Weber dated a young woman from his hometown and he may not have wanted to risk her finding out what he was doing.

Isaac Jackson, 26, a Rancher’s Rest resident who disappeared after going out to a local bar to see his friend’s band play in 2000. His car was found submerged in a small pond two years later. This is the first time Weber apparently killed anyone close to home. He was actually briefly suspected in Jackson’s death, as he was the last person noted to see Jackson alive, but was cleared of suspicion at the time.

Dustin Swill, 21, who was driving from Colorado to California to visit his sister who had moved to Berras to work for WRU in 2001. He was last seen in a gas station near Yellowstone, where employees noted he spoke to a man who was smoking outside, who gave him a cigarette. When Swill left, employees saw the man put out his cigarette and leave shortly after. They did not find this unusual or noteworthy at the time.

Maria Vargas, 25, a Rancher’s Rest resident who was reported missing in 2002. Her family is intensely private and have shared few details about her, but it is known that her boyfriend at the time suspected Weber, who had attempted to convince her to leave the boyfriend for him and had apparently threatened her. He remained a suspect but there was never enough evidence to charge him.

Jennifer Striker, 28, from who never arrived for an appointment with a realtor in 2011. The long pause between Maria Vargas’s murder and Jennifer’s appeared to be due to Weber keeping a man named Finn Schneider within his home for more than a year after abducting him, as well as Weber serving five years in prison for a violent assault on a man he believed had sold him a defective vehicle. (Schneider was no longer in the home before the assault and prison time.)

Riley Nievelt, 25, was staying at the Big Meadow Campground with six friends during a weeklong vacation in 2012. She vanished while on a trip to purchase supplies. Her cell phone was found on the ground in the parking lot of the Food Lion in Rancher’s Rest, a short and easy drive away. At this time, with multiple individuals vanishing after being seen in Rancher’s Rest or being residents of the town, police begin to suspect and start hunting for a possible serial killer.

Alexander Peterson, 29, was a long-haul driver who vanished while working. He was last seen at a rest stop in 2014 on the California/Nevada state line, and would likely have passed right through Rancher’s Rest on his journey. He was reported missing by his ex-wife in South Dakota when he did not return as scheduled for a custodial visit.

The most recent victim, and owner of the hand that Randy Niles saw sticking up out of the dirt, was Yolanda Pierce, 26. She was a Rancher’s Rest resident with a troubled relationship with her husband, who had stormed out after an argument and was never seen again. She is believed to have died the same day as Robert Weber.

More remains exist but have not yet been identified. If you or anyone you know has a friend or family member who went missing during this time period in or near Rancher’s Rest, Yellowstone National Park, or Death Valley, it may be worth looking into, as those appear to be Robert Weber’s “hunting grounds”.

Disappearances in Yellowstone and Death Valley almost always matched up with Robert taking one of his rare weeklong vacations from work.

When investigators located three large diaries hidden inside a locked box in Weber’s closet, the first two fully filled up and the third nearly two-thirds finished, they found an exhaustively detailed record of Robert Weber’s crimes.

In these records, they discovered Weber’s first three victims were killed within 24 hours of abduction, with the rest being kept alive for longer and longer time periods. It is believed all of them met their end in Robert Weber’s basement.

Diary entries included records of two victims who were not a part of the bodies buried in Weber’s basement, both of whom may still be alive:

Finn Schneider, 19, a German tourist who disappeared in 2003 during a visit to Death Valley. Until Weber’s journals were found, it was believed he had perished in the park and had simply never been found. Robert Weber also visited Death Valley during this time. No one linked the two together. Evidence found in Weber’s home after his death, including the aforementioned diary entries and photographs, shows that Schneider was alive in Weber’s home for nearly sixteen months. It is believed Weber purchased the “human cage” that Randy Niles noticed around this time. The last diary entry that mentions Schneider states that he was “traded” on June 16th, 2005, to an individual only referred to as “Mouse.” What Weber received in exchange is unclear, but he was seen driving a new, custom-painted truck around this time, which he said he bought “from a personal ad” when asked by Niles about it. Schneider has never been found. However, his mother did receive a phone call in 2013 from an individual she believes to be her son, telling her that “Finn” was okay and to stop looking for him.

Our Box Boy, 334235, purchased by Nathaniel Benson years prior, whose whereabouts had been unknown since he murdered Brute Hanlon. Weber believed the Box Boy to be in his early twenties, according to his diary entries, and mentioned that he had picked the Boxie up hitchhiking and had intended to kill him before seeing the barcode on the inside of his left wrist and changing his mind. His diary suggests the Box Boy remained in his possession for roughly a fourteen months prior to Weber’s murder. Police have not released the details of what the Boxie was subjected to during this time, stating only that it is not the public’s interest for this information to be known, and they would like to locate the missing Boxie and interview him about certain details.

Four murders occurred during the time the Boxie was kept by Robert Weber. Weber noted that “the dog helped” with either murder or burial, suggesting that he may have worked as Weber’s accomplice in his terrible crimes.

Is it possible that they bonded over a shared urge to kill? Did the Boxie start a captive and become a companion?

Weber’s diary contained other disturbing facts, as well:

Weber also noted three failed abduction attempts in detail, in 1998, 2004, and 2017. In each he described with incredible precision of memory the appearances and descriptions of each person he failed to capture. He also appeared to do intensive research using their license plates and other information to find out where they lived and who they were. The names of these individuals have been kept quiet for privacy reasons.

Other failed abductions were noted, about one per year, without much detail. Or at least not enough for police officers to know who they were. Nearly all these failures were in one of three locations: Yellowstone National Park, Stanislaus National Forest and nearby campgrounds, and in or near Death Valley.

The last entry in Robert Weber’s diary was penned the day of his death.

NOTE: Weber referred to the Boxie as “the dog” in nearly all his journal entries. His last entry went:

May 6th, 20XX: The dog is pissed about something again. He’s always pissed about something. I think the thing in the basement probably kept him up all night with her caterwauling. He never gets used to the noises they make. God knows I can’t sleep either, at least not well. I’ll handle her tonight, have a drink with the dog after, see if that shuts up his nonsense for a while. Note: missed NPR interview with Senator Carlotta Grant on new leg. about the bb prohibition act. Find that on website later.

Found in Weber’s home, in boxes under his bed, were a series of restraints made of leather, high-quality items that appear to be custom-ordered to specific measurements. These included “gloves” intended to keep someone from being able to claw or scratch in their own defense, five sets of cuffs, a body harness, a leather half-face-mask that police referred to as a “muzzle”, several gags, some of which were deemed to be “designed to cause injury to the inside of the mouth”, and “other assorted items for use in torture and torment”.

You can find some leaked police docs online that go into more detail, but suffice to say they pretty much match the kinds of “toys” found in Nathaniel Benson and Brute Hanlon’s homes, too. And apparently, if you really know where to look, you can find some blurry low-quality photos Weber took, too.

While the items are a bit salacious, they aren’t entirely uncommon in consensual relationships, too, so it’s really not clear if they’re evidence of the Boxie being held against his will or not.

The investigation of the crime scene suggests that at some point after writing his final diary entry, Robert Weber made himself a pizza, which he ate half of and put the rest away in the fridge. His shaving cream and razor were found out on his sink, and Weber’s body was clean-shaven, suggesting he shaved shortly before his death.

He then watched three episodes of Law & Order: SVU. We know this because he texted during this time with his only living relative, the sister in Vermont. Little is known about Weber’s family and childhood, beyond his sister’s recounting of a quiet, strained home life with an overbearing mother and her mention that Robert endured several head injuries as a child and adolescent, including one that hospitalized him for days.

After he finished watching TV, Weber entered the basement and murdered Yolanda Pierce. It is believed he took the Box Boy downstairs with him, either as accomplice or witness. At some point while he was disposing of Yolanda Pierce’s remains, the Boxie became enraged for one reason or another, beat him with a shovel, got the kitchen knife from upstairs and stabbed him to death, and then left the house.

A neighbor remembers hearing odd noises around 3:30 AM and looking out their window to see a shadowy figure walking quickly down the road, but they weren’t able to see well enough to say whether or not the individual matches the description and WRU-provided photos of the Boxie. It does seem reasonable, though, to assume that the neighbor witnessed the Boxie fleeing the scene of the crime.

The Box Boy has never been seen again.

Police are pretty mum about the active investigation into the Box Boy’s whereabouts. I was able to get ahold of one source closely related to a member of the investigative team who said that there’s just not a lot of urgency. “Weber killed nearly two dozen people, just that we know of,” The source said. “The cops are a little bit ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ about the situation. Unless the Boxie comes back to RR, they’re just inclined to let sleeping dogs lie.”

The sense of “let it be someone else’s problem” would be understandable… if this Box Boy weren’t responsible for one other direct murder, possibly two.

Police believe the Boxie has not left California, and is likely to be continuing to survive by engaging in prostitution or perhaps panhandling or some other hidden way of making money. Unconfirmed sightings have been located in three cities in central California, but all of these are unverified and should be taken with a grain of salt.

It’s also possible he hooked up with a pet liberation movement group, in which case he may be hiding out in a safehouse, protected from the consequences of his actions by the pet lib movement’s understandable insistence on total secrecy and anonymity for the Boxies they take in.

If he’s an innocent victim of circumstance, that’s fair.

If he’s a burgeoning serial killer with three victims under his belt and a taste for inflicting terrible violence on those who take him in… well… anyone who gives him shelter may be next.

Is our Boxie a purposeful killer or just supremely, almost incomprehensibly unlucky? Will he kill again? Was he Robert Weber’s accomplice or his victim?

Will he strike again?

Should there be an audit of WRU’s psychological testing on potential sign-ups to see if, perhaps, a Box Boy-wannabe with an urge to kill slipped through the cracks?

What do you think?

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 6)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2313 Warnings: none

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​​​ Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 5 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Buzzing. There was constant buzzing in your ear, a combination of all the sounds around you blurring into an indiscernible mix you forced yourself to focus on. The steady drone is too slow for the quickened bounce of your leg shaking against the floor of the Uber that’s bringing you to your destination much faster than you expected. Your stomach is twisted in painful knots that sear deeper as you see the illuminated sign of Metro-General Hospital.

The way you’re feeling makes you want to head left through the emergency room doors but instead you charge ahead towards the main entrance. After giving your name you move to the side and await instructions from the security guard.

The buzzing hasn’t stopped though you quickly realize the pulsating vibrations were coming from your phone inside your bag. Quickly checking it you saw a text from Bucky wishing you good luck on the interview. You smiled seeing his name, feeling a moment of relief.

There was a shift in the air after you opened up to him the night before about why social work meant so much to you. Bucky had a much clearer understanding of you, commending the drive you had to come so far even with the obstacles you faced. You exchanged numbers before he left, acknowledging that Bucky was no longer just your neighbor but someone you considered a new friend.

The security guard hands you a visitor ID and gives you instructions to get to Ms. Rodriguez’s office from the elevator. Smoothing out your blouse you gave a friendly smile to the fellow passengers that entered as the doors opened to almost every floor on the journey up.

Two right turns and then a left at the nurses’ station until you found the corridor with blue doors. You rang the bell that buzzed a second later and pushed open the now unlocked door to enter an open room. A woman sits at a desk in front, gesturing for you to sit down on the row of chairs behind you as she continues her phone conversation.

Her desk is covered in a stack of thick manila folders, with one file open in front of her that she references on the call. You try not to eavesdrop despite being right there so you move your head slowly to observe the rest of the room. Cubicle walls divide a few other desks beside her. The walls are lined with tall file cabinets and a large potted Ficus drinks up the sunshine in the corner.

At the back of the room is a door that unexpectedly swings open, having been pulled so hard it seemed like it could have come off the hinges. A tall slim girl is scowling as her boots stomp down the hallway. She’s dressed in jeans and a black leather jacket as dark as her loose, uncombed hair. A woman steps out from the doorway, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Follow protocol Ms. Jones and we’ll get him.”

The girl turned around scoffing, “We’ll get him faster if I throw his ass through a wall.”

“Jessica,” she warned, flaring her eyes at the girl in a silent challenge.

It only took a moment for you to realize the woman was Ms. Rodriguez and suddenly your stomach began flipping again.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” she asked and you nodded, standing up to greet her with a handshake and a smile.

She asked you to follow her into her office, watching her thick braid sway as she walked ahead of you, holding the door open for you to enter. Her office wasn’t very big, or maybe it only felt that way since it was surrounded by even more large file cabinets.

“I apologize for that,” she began, “Jessica thinks using her fists might yield more results. This is a tough field, tell me what you wish to get out of it.”

Having recounted the full story with Bucky you were emotionally prepared to discuss all aspects of why you wanted to go into this field and it was clear to Ms. Rodriguez that you wanted to make a difference in the lives of those you were advocating for.

Her fingers twirled the large silver cross around her neck as she stared at you, your nerves rising under her silent gaze. Her face eventually relaxed into a smile and the weight was lifted from your shoulders as she welcomed you aboard as an intern. You couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across your face but when she began talking hours and scheduling it quickly dropped. You explained working full time and the hope you had for fulfilling your internship hours in the evenings.

“The issue is that some patients require our help to connect them with outside organizations to provide services and it’s unfortunate but most places stop answering their phones before 5 o’clock. There is a lot you can learn from us here but I would expect some daytime hours, otherwise this internship does not benefit you and I don’t mean to be frank but I can’t have you waste my time.”

Her straightforwardness made you feel nauseous but you understood. Your goal was so close, 1200 hours away until completion. You weren’t going to let it slip away.

“Thank you Ms. Rodriguez. I would love the opportunity to still do my internship here with you. If you’ll allow me the opportunity to speak with my employer, perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

This may be another obstacle in the road but you were going to get through it, somehow, someway.

The following day you woke up earlier than usual despite your lack of sleep. You almost texted Bucky at night, asking him to play anything in hopes the sound of his music would help drown out the anxieties in your mind. Instead you tossed and turned all night, unable to shut off your brain.

You didn’t want to text him anyway, knowing he would ask how the interview went. You avoided Steve and Wanda’s texts as well, seeking refuge at The Grind House but instead of doing research papers you worked on several plans. If you couldn’t make Stark Industries work with your internship then you’d have to find another job, or two, or three if need be.

You would make this happen no matter what but that didn’t ease the pit in your stomach; the familiar sense of dread that weighed you down uncomfortably like sandbags on your shoulders. Optimism and fear were fighting for dominance in your mind and for now you gave in to all the fears and worries. There would be no telling what path you would travel next, not until you spoke with Maria.

Steve wasn’t in yet so you were thankful to not have to run into him in the morning. The clicking of your heels against the tile floor echoed throughout the empty lobby. You couldn’t help but tap your foot, impatiently waiting for the elevator to arrive. Lost in thought you didn’t hear the footsteps of a person come up beside you. It wasn’t until you entered the elevator and were surprised to see someone else walk in.

Dressed in a sharp three-piece navy suit with a deep red tie stood Tony Stark. A perfectly trimmed goatee framed his smile as he took off his tinted sunglasses.

“G-good morning Mr. Stark,” you nervously greeted.

“Morning miss….” The word slithered on his tongue, dragging out the sound as he combed through the information of his brain to remember your last name. “Y/L/N!”

“You know who I am?” You didn’t mean to sound so pathetic but the words blurted out before you were able to stop them.

“That’s right kiddo. I know everybody that works for me,” he boasted.

He pressed his lips together forming a tight line, and he checked around the elevator as if you weren’t the only people there.

Tony leaned in closer to you, whispering, “Actually, that’s a lie. There’s one guy up in legal whose name I can’t ever remember. Is it Gary? Glenn? Gene? Geor– you know what, never mind. I know his face. That stays between us, okay?”

You nodded your head, but couldn’t help the odd chuckle that fell from your lips.

“So, are you angry?”

Your posture straightened, tensing up after his question caught you off guard.

“Before. The tapping?” He tapped his foot to mimic your earlier actions. “Pepper does that when she’s angry, usually at me.”

“Oh, no I… I’m just eager to speak with Maria about something.”

The elevator doors opened and Tony gestured for you to step out first.

“Might be a little difficult, she won’t be back for at least a few months.”

Worry settled on your face as Tony explained he asked Maria to head Stark International and begin overseeing their newest office in Australia.

“I had no idea…” you trailed off, wondering what this means not only for your internship but your job. “I’m her assistant…”

“That’s on me,” Tony said, raising his hands in defense. “I’m sorry, this was a real last minute decision. I know Maria thinks highly of you so if you’d like we can arrange for you to join her down unda,” he said with an accent.

“No!” You didn’t mean to shout. “I’m sorry. I can’t go there. I…I....” your voice trailed off as your lip began to tremble, feeling yourself plummet deeper and deeper into a pit of fear and uncertainty.

Tony noticed the panic on your face and the short gulps of breath you were taking. He guided you to the nearest chair and asked you to focus on taking long, deep breaths and blowing out steadily.

“You still have a job here if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said softly.

Tony’s eyes were full of compassion and based on everything you knew from Mr. Lee he made you feel comfortable enough to want to open up to him. With a deep sigh you explained your situation, from needing this job to afford an apartment up until the internship hours you were hoping to discuss with Maria, all the while still ensuring he knew how grateful you were for the job you had.

Tony pondered for a bit before the elevator opened and a few employees shuffled in, greeting him with surprise.

“Follow me,” he asked of you, following him to his grand corner office with floor to ceiling windows showcasing a beautiful view of the golden sunrise.

You took a seat on the soft leather chair in front of the sleek obsidian desk. His office was decorated with oversized black and white photos of old planes and cars, a few personalized touches and a small wet bar off to the side and yet everything seemed sterile. Maybe it was the way his own chair squeaked as he sat, like it was still being broken in.

Your fingers twiddled in your lap as you anxiously waited for Tony to break the silence. He gazed at you for a little longer, nodding slightly and quirking his head as if he was having a silent conversation with himself.  

“Stan told me you were a good kid but I wish he knew about your background. I would’ve put you on my team a long time ago.”

Your head twitched, taken aback. “Your team?”

“Me, Pep, a few others. We’re in the beginning stages of building a nonprofit organization, The September Foundation. I want it to change lives; develop after school STEM programs, fund student research, the whole shebang.”

The tendency you had of not shutting your mouth when you should have continued as you questioned why he thought you were appropriate for this.

“You want to help people, same as I and being part of this doesn’t look so bad on a resume.”

“My hours…”

“...can be flexible,” he finished. “We’ll work out the details but the job is yours.”

Tears of joy flooded your eyes but you held them back, closing your lids with relief as things were finally coming together.

“Thank you Mr. Stark, thank you so much!”

You shook his hand enthusiastically and turned on your heel with a smile. You nearly made it to the door before realizing you had no idea what to do now especially with Maria no longer there.

An awkward bubble of laughter came up as you asked, “What should I be doing today Mr. Stark?”

“Please, call me Tony,” he flashed a bright smile. “Greg or Graham or whatever his name is will finalize the legal paperwork in the next few days. Use those days to brainstorm. Tell me what communities you think we need to be in, what would benefit most, what would draw kids in. On Monday you’ll meet with everyone else to go over ideas.”

With a renewed sense of spirit you went to your desk, first to write Maria a congratulatory email on her new position and then to call Ms. Rodriguez about the internship, afterwards you went straight to work.

“Steve!” you shouted before the elevator doors finished opening, running as best as you could in heels towards him. “I have so much to tell you! I got the internship! I have a new job here! I’m– ahhhhh!”

Steve wrapped you in a firm hug as your excited ramblings turned into squeals of joy.

“We have to celebrate!” you beamed. “I’ll call Wanda and Sam and…”

You stopped to think about Bucky. He was new in your life and yet somehow the idea of celebrating without him felt wrong.

Later that night you knocked on his door, sporting a wide smile that spread across your face. It stretched even wider when he opened the door and blessed you with a sparkling grin.

Opening your mouth you said the first words that came to mind, “Will you go out with me?”

PART 7

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 17: Royality

@tsshipmonth2020 (does this still count so late?)

What’s that? Ly creating content? Unbelievable. (I have writer’s block, leave me alooone /j)

Thanks to @marshymoop for suggestions and encouragment when making this bad boy! Love ya <3

Day 17 - Everyone has heterochromia, one eye is your natural color the other is your soulmate’s natural color. Once you meet all eyes return to natural color. 

Content warnings: food/drink mention, alcohol, mentions of hangover, vampires, referring to drinking blood as “eating”, non-explicit blood drinking, being chased. 

Word count: 6.9k

THE CITY OF DEWMORE WELCOMES YOU

Patton tapped his fingers on the steering wheel excitedly, nearly vibrating as he passed the weathered sign. Beyond it, beckoning him forward, stood a forest more densely packed and darker than he’d ever had the pleasure of exploring, the achingly tall pine trees swaying minutely in the breeze, their tips barely visible through the blanket of fog. Just imagining what could be held within those depths made his leg bounce; forgotten, moss-drenched stone paths, broken stumps of fallen trees that hadn’t made a sound upon impact, patches of mushrooms scattered in the shadows, and whispering creeks. It was the perfect way to spend his spring break, and one his photography teacher had wholeheartedly encouraged him to take. If he hadn’t had so many midterms to mark, Patton was almost sure the man would have tried to join him. 

Almost an anxious tic at this point, he ran his free hand over the photography bag in his passenger seat, as if to make sure it hadn’t disappeared in the three minutes since he’d last checked. The thing was his prized possession, given to him by the very same photography professor at his university. It had been the elder’s own, before he got his newest camera, and gifted the whole set to his favorite (but don’t tell the others) students. It was full of perfectly kept lenses and two miniature tripods, extra batteries and memory cards, speedlights, and most importantly, the camera tucked safely into the biggest pouch. It was more expensive than Patton would ever have dreamt to buy, so it was truly a gift he’d never forget. Now it was up to him to finally take some shots worthy of the thing. 

The forests continued to grow denser and thicker until, in almost a shocking snap, they disappeared to reveal a quaint city that he hadn’t quite expected. The first few buildings he passed looked like they may have stood there for hundreds of years, weather worn and faded. Their signs were either scratched to nothingness or blaringly new, shining metal names standing out against an ancient backdrop. He was looking for a motel, figuring there had to be one, even in a town of less than two thousand people. His backup plan was to just sleep in his car. He’d brought his sleeping back and extra blankets, so it wasn’t a huge concern, but he’d still prefer a bed. But whenever he’d tried finding anything online, he’d come up blank. 

A fog still covered the town, and though it created an air of calm and mystery that Patton was itching to capture, he also knew the area was surrounded by towering mountains that he also desired so badly. To his right, the buildings stopped abruptly, revealing a grey beach, all rocks and no sand, criss crossed with logs, opening to a dark lake. The other side wasn’t visible through the mist. 

The further he drove, he realized the buildings weren’t improving in their modernity, just giving way to more and more old infrastructure. One stood out, a grocery store, it’s lights piercing through the evening dim. Patton didn’t get a look inside before he passed, once again surrounded antique houses and shops, a post office to his left, and a tavern just across from that. A sign above the door read “Vacancy” in peeling white letters, and that was all the enticing Patton needed to pull his car into the gravel parking lot in front of the building. There was only one other vehicle there, a matte red pickup truck that he parked next to, and what appeared to only be three more parking spots. From the high placed windows, a soft orange light bled, and a round of raucous laughter filtered through the cracked open door. Patton smiled. The photographer inside him was going to have a field day here. 

He stepped up the concrete steps and ruffled his hair with one hand so it covered his eye, heaving a sigh in hopes to calm his nervous butterflies, and pulled the door open. 

All at once, the chatter inside died, and Patton internally shrank as every face in the tavern turned to look at the newcomer. There was a moment of tense silence as he tried his best for a smile and met the gaze of the men scrutinizing him, drinks forgotten on high wooden tables, jubilance halted. Patton waited with baited breath, for someone to do something, why were they all just staring, when a voice spoke from behind the bar.

“Don’t worry about them, sweetheart. We don’t get a lot of new people around here.”

And the lull was broken as suddenly as it started, the men now ignoring him in favor of joking over mugs of fizzing ale. Patton swallowed thickly and turned to the voice, shoving his quivering hands into his pockets and shaking his head again to assure the curls were safely covering his eye. As usual. 

The man standing before him, leaning on the bar with an easy smile, was almost enough to take Patton’s breath away. If he were a religious man, he’d go so far as to call him heavenly. Eyes as dark as the depths of the surrounding forests, auburn hair pushed back from his face in what he could only think to describe as an intentional bedhead. His skin was too flawless, teeth just a couple shades too white, everything perfect in a way that was almost…

Patton couldn’t put his finger on it. 

“What can I get you, newbie?”

“Uhm-” Patton took a cleansing breath and sat at one of the barstools, all of them empty seeing as the crowd seemed more drawn to the tables in the center of the room, “I don’t come to bars that often. I don’t know.”

The bartender hummed, pushing up his already rolled up white sleeves and giving Patton a once over, almost investigating him. “You drink?”

“I… I guess.”

“Been on the road for a while, tired?”

“Do I look that exhausted?” Patton breathed a laugh, suddenly aching to pop his spine. He’d been driving since before dawn for the past three days, barely hunkering down for a decent sleep before he was off again. He’d been really excited to get here, plus he didn’t want to waste more of his meager break driving. 

“I got just what you need, darling.” With a wink, the bartender straightened up and pulled down a series of bottles, cracking his knuckles with flourish before measuring them into a silver canister. “So what brings you to Dewmore?”

“I’m a photographer,” Patton said, “Or, a photography student. Down in Florida.”

The man whistled as he shoveled ice cubes into the mix, “Long drive for some pictures.”

“I’m… dedicated,” Patton laughed, scratching at his neck nervously. “My prof recommended it, said it might be a nice place to spend my break.”

“I assume you’re looking for a place to stay then, as well?” He plopped a cap on the canister and began to shake it above his shoulder, grinning widely, “These guys are always just like, ‘Gimme a beer’ this, ‘Gimme a beer’ that. It’s great to actually make fun drinks again.” With hands flying too fast for Patton to process, he grabbed a glass, popped the lid of the shaker, and poured the deep orange drink, tossing on a green sprig and sliding the drink over. “Enjoy.”

Patton took a cautious sip of the drink and had to fight not to sigh, the refreshing taste a welcome relief after three days of gas station Gatorade and hotel sink water. He could barely taste any alcohol, more focused on the ice cold sweet tartness at the back of his tongue. The bartender looked pleased, huffing a satisfied laugh and beginning to put away his bottles. He was taking another sip, satisfied with the backdrop of joyous chatter and clinking glasses, when he remembered why he’d come in. 

“Yes, I am. Uhm, looking for a place to stay, that is.”

The bartender looked at him over his shoulder, “We haven’t had visitors in… a while, at least. You’ve pretty much got your pick of the rooms.”

“Do you have anything facing the water?” He took another sip, the photo possibilities already flowing through his mind. One through the window, just far back enough to catch the flow of the curtains and the chipped wood of the window ledge, a monochromatic lakeshore in the bottom third, a barely visible mountain looming ahead… 

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Let me just finish this up, and I’ll get you on the ledger.”

“Patton.” He downed the rest of the drink and rested his elbow on the counter, chin in his palm, an easy smile playing on his lips. 

“Hm?”

“My name’s Patton.” 

“I’m Roman.” Tossing the towel over his shoulder, Roman gave him another wink before disappearing into the back room, coming back moments later with a thick black book. He was already thumbing through the pages, finally landing on the one he wanted, and spun a pen between his fingers.

“What’s your last name, sweetheart?” 

Patton spelled it out for him, and was surprised when the man clapped the book shut after the final letter. “That’s all you need?”

“Yup.”

“No… ID, or anything?” It was at that moment when it occurred to Patton that, although he was legal, his baby face often prompted bouncers and servers back home to ask for identification. Roman hadn’t even blinked before serving him.

“Got anything to hide?” 

“Uhm… no, I-”

“Good enough for me. It’s not like we’re a high traffic tourist spot. I don’t think we’ve had anyone take a room in, like, two years, and who knows how many before that. Frankly, I wouldn’t care if you were on the run for murder. Don’t kill me, and we’re solid.”

Patton blanched, unable to tell if the man was being sarcastic. Finally his expression cracked into a smirk and he brandished a key towards Patton, dangling it by the ring. “I’m messing with you. I mean, don’t kill me, that’s legit. Here you go, cutie. Let me know if you need anything.”

With that, he sashayed away with a tray of beers (when on Earth had he filled those?), and the men whooped loudly, startling Patton. 

“Easy, boys,” Roman purred, beginning to round the tables, and Patton hopped off the bar stool to get his things from his car. He couldn’t wait to pass out in bed with the knowledge that he could sleep in however late he wanted. 

-0-0-0-

But apparently sleep didn’t have the same ideas as him, because even after he was in comfortable clothes and tucked into the covers, he continued to toss and turn. Maybe it was the concept of being alone in a strange town, or the full moon shining through the thin curtains, or just plain excitement, but he suddenly felt wider awake then he had since he started this trip. 

There was a soft rattling somewhere across the room and, with begrudging acceptance that he wasn’t going to sleep any time soon, fumbled his glasses on to search for the offending sound. With a grumble, he threw off the blankets and padded across the room to the window and tossed back the curtains, giving the moon a scalding glare for shining so darn brightly. It was the window, fitted loosely in its frame, being shook by the gentle wind that was causing the noise. Patton gave it an experimental tug, followed by a more forceful yank, and found it didn’t budge down at all. Instead, it continued to rattle mockingly, in what sounded almost like whispered giggles as he crossed his arms across his chest. 

Fine. He turned his attention to the scenic view before him, letting out a minute shudder as a small gust of wind blew through his thin pajama shirt. Moonlit waves crashed against the rocky shore, tossing up silver spray against the dark backdrop of the forest. Patton took a breath, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace just staring at the silent town, the stone spires rising above the forest-

Wait, what?

Patton blinked sharply a couple times, leaning forward until his nose bumped the window and squinting through the glass. Those… things... definitely looked like manmade objects- the shape made it impossible for them to be natural- but you’d think he’d remember something that looked like a castle directly outside his window. In fact, he’d spent a significant amount of time upon first entering the room just admiring the view, and a castle one hundred percent would have been on his radar. Oh, if the thing was abandoned, imagine the photo opportunities, and even if it wasn’t he could totally just get some of the outside-

Yeah, there was no way he was sleeping now.

Before he’d even processed what he was doing, he’d slipped out of his pajamas and hurriedly pulled on the outfit he’d laid out on the desk chair, because there was no way he was digging through his suitcase to scrounge out more clothes. He threw a beige sweater over his white shirt, however, remembering the chill the night had brought and, after he’d adequate tucked them into his slacks, he threw his camera bag over his shoulder and trotted down the stairs.

Unsurprisingly, the first floor tavern was empty of all customers, overhead lights traded for softer electric lamps on the walls and the illuminated sign above the bar, where Roman was wiping down the counter, seemingly unbothered by the late hour. 

“Can’t sleep, sweetheart?” The bartender called out without turning around, tossing his rag across the counter and into a full soapy bucket behind the bar. 

“Uh, yeah, something like that,” Patton responded, shaking his bangs so they covered his eye. “I think I’m just too excited to start getting shots.”

“Mmm, you and me both.” He waggled his eyebrows and pulled a bottle of what looked like whiskey off the shelf. “What’s your poison?”

Patton snorted but shook his head, patting his camera bag, “I want to go out, and it’s probably not smart to drink before going out in a strange town at night.”

Roman shrugged before pouring himself a shot and downing it in one smooth motion.

“You’re allowed to drink on the job?”

The bartender hummed, replacing the bottle and locking the cabinet presumably for the night, “Once my tavern is empty, I consider myself off the clock. And I’m my own boss, so I hereby give myself the night off. I have a coffee machine in the back room, one of those Keurigs, if you want something fancy. Hasn’t been used in ages, but I’m sure if you wanted something, I-”

“No, it’s okay. Really.” Patton ducked his head and messed with his shirt, making sure the white collar stood above the neck of his sweater. He made his way over to the bar and took the same stool as before, leaning on the counter as Roman dumped out the dirty cleaning water into the sink. The clock above the bar, barely illuminated enough to see, revealed it was just after midnight. “Are there any old structures, like churches or anything, in the forest?”

Roman tilted his head, giving Patton a look over his shoulder he couldn’t quite understand. 

“There’s nothing there besides wolves and ticks, sweetheart,” he said slowly with an almost condescending smile, “Why? Hoping the little town in the middle of nowhere has a mystery?” He rinsed out the bucket and placed it in the cabinet under the sink.

Patton shrugged, scratching at his temple, “I saw something outside of my window.”

“Like a tree?” The rag was rinsed as well and draped over the faucet.

“No, definitely not.” He tried not to feel too offended that Roman was clearly teasing him, but he was certain what he’d seen hadn’t been a tree. They were too tall, too angular, and too symmetrically placed for that.

“Pattycake, I grew up hunting with my dad and partying in those woods, and I would know if something were there.” 

“Are you sure?” Patton implored, “There’s definitely something man made, could it be, like, an old castle, or something?”

There was a moment of silence between the two as Roman continued to look at Patton like he was crazy, the barest hints of an impish grin tugging at his lips, before he sucked in a sharp breath; as if he realized something. 

On a dime, Roman’s expression contorted into one of anger, eyes alight with fury as he leaned into Patton’s space. As he spoke, his voice almost reverberated, like a choir speaking in unison.

“There is nothing in those woods, Patton. Understand? Don’t go wandering into places you don’t belong, or you won’t like what you find.”

Patton reared back from the forceful words, hand coming up subconsciously to readjust the hair on his face. Roman leaned just a tad closer, growling out a warning, “Got it, sweetheart?” The electric lamps on the walls, once creating such a homey, soft environment, suddenly flickered and Patton flinched, whipping around to face the large room as it seemed to strobe under the malfunctioning lights. Goosebumps spread across his arms as the flashing grew faster and his hand clamped over the back of his neck when a shiver raced up his spine.

“What’s going on? Why are-”

And then the lights went out completely, an eerie quiet settling over the tavern. Roman was silent. Was he even still in the room? Could he have left so quickly? The only sound in the empty room were Patton’s shaky breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, as he fought down a scream. He wasn’t a fan of the dark.

A single street light barely shone through the window, too dim to even light up the tables near the glass, and Patton turned to focus on it. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In… out… in… out-

A silhouette appeared in the window. 

The lights were back to their original gleam before he could even open his mouth to scream, filling the room with a dull hum as if nothing had even happened. Blinking rapidly, Patton took a calming breath (it’s just old lights, it’s just old lights, relax) and swiveled back in his chair to find that Roman was smiling at him innocently, cleaning out a glass with a rag.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?”

“Didn’t you see that?” Patton asked incredulously.

“See what?”  The bartender placed the glass into the last space in a row of them, giving Patton that same condescending grin as before. 

Patton sighed and lifted his glasses to rub his eyes tiredly, shaking his head. “I think travelling for so long has me seeing things.” Careful as ever, in the same fashion he’d so masterfully perfected in elementary school, he shook his head to cover his eye- his stupid, left, ‘soulmate’ eye- before removing his hands and letting his glasses fall back into place. 

Other kids won’t like it, sweetie. I don’t think the teachers will either.

I know you can’t help it, my love. If I could take this burden from you, I would. But this is yours to handle until… well, you know.

I don’t know why, Patton. You’ll find them someday. And then you’ll understand. 

“Why do you do your hair like that?”

“Hmm?” Patton blinked.

Roman smirked, leaning casually on the counter in front of Patton, “Covering half of your face like that. You shouldn’t, you know. You’re a stunner.” With that, he reached forward, intent on moving that hair out of his face.

No.

“NO!” Patton yelled, stumbling off the barstool just as Roman’s hand made contact with his face. He ducked his head, roughly scraping his hair back in place with shaking hands, but the damage was done. A single cute guy compliments him and he forgets the habit he’s built up for years? How could he be so stupid-

“Everything alright? I’m sorry for scaring you, sweetheart.”

Was it possible he hadn’t seen it? Maybe Patton had moved fast enough, maybe the bartender had been too surprised to get a good look, maybe everything was fine. Roman didn’t seem horrified, or at all perturbed. Instead, he just looked… worried. 

Either way, after that reaction, Patton was aching to be left alone to stew in his embarrassment. His rented room held nothing for him that he wanted, and sleep felt farther than ever, so his only choice was outside. The promises of a maybe-crumbling ancient building, illuminated by a full moon, were far more tempting than anything inside had to offer. 

“Actually,” Patton said nervously, “A coffee would be great.”

Roman squinted at him, biting on the inside of his cheek before huffing a breathy laugh through his nose. “Alright, darling. Give me just a second to dust off the Keurig.”

The moment he disappeared behind the door to the backroom, Patton tightened his hold on the camera bag and sprinted from the tavern, into the grips of the cool night.

-0-0-0-

What would he say when he got back to the tavern? Would Roman make him leave the inn? Had he crossed a line he hadn’t known existed; would he have to cut his trip early because he couldn’t help his curiosity? Was bothering the only innkeeper in town really the smartest decision to make?

All wonderful questions that Patton wished he’d considered before running.

But if he did have to leave, and if this was his last night in this delightful and equally terrifying little town, he was going to make the most of it. At least, that’s what he’d thought he would do as he’d left the few city lights behind and treading deeper into the forest. He had a flashlight with him, thank goodness, so he wasn’t completely screwed, and he’d already gotten a few great shots. He stayed in the areas that the full moon could still shine through the trees, and some of the clouds had rolled away, so he was having the time of his life working with silhouettes against the star filled sky (thanks to the little to no light pollution Dewmore offered). 

The more prominent thought in his mind, however, were the spires steadily growing closer above the treeline. He couldn’t understand what Roman had been talking about. How could anyone living in this town not see whatever he was walking towards? 

(Admittedly, curiosity was also a huge reason he was chasing something he’d been warned to avoid. He’d never been that great at impulse control.)

It had to be nearly two in the morning when he came to an incline; a steep path constructed entirely of rocks fist-sized and larger. At the top, Patton could just barely see what looked to be the back of the castle, and he bounced slightly on his toes in excitement. He couldn’t tell from this distance the state it was in, or if it was possible anyone still lived there, but dang it if he wasn’t going to give it a go before he left. He’d walked all this way, after all.

The first few steps up the hill were the loudest thing he’d heard since he’d started his midnight adventure, and he cringed as they dropped away under his feet, knocking against each other as they fell to the ground.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Patton spun around, his flashlight slipping out of his hands. It rolled down between the rocks, casting split second light beams in every direction as it bounced towards the source of the voice, and stopped dead in the middle between the two of them. It settled on an indent created by Patton’s steps, aimed at the newcomer. Patton breathed a sigh of relief.

“Roman, goodness gracious! You scared the bejesus out of me,” Patton laid a hand on his chest and let out a huge gust of air. Roman didn’t move, and for the first time he noticed the absolute glare the bartender was giving him. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uhm… sorry about the… leaving. Thing. Are you mad?”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Well, apparently they weren’t going to talk about it. “Oh- I’m sorry, is this private property? I didn’t see any signs, I’m- Wait, but look, Roman! See, that’s what I was talking-”

“You. Shouldn’t. Be. Here.”

Patton blinked at the harshness in his words, taken aback. How was this the same easy going bartender that he’d met earlier tonight? Whatever was beyond this hill, though, Roman obviously wasn’t going to allow Patton to see. Maybe it was dangerous, or something? Either way, he couldn’t deny his disappointment.  “Yeah. I’m sorry, I’ll leave-”          

“How did you get here?”

“I… um, walked?”

“No!” Roman hissed, finally stepping forward and plucking up the flashlight from the ground, “You shouldn’t be able to see the castle, or go near it, how the hell did you get here?!”

Before he could answer, the other man froze, whipping around as if he’d heard a noise from his left. And then Patton blinked, and Roman was in front of him, pulling him back down to solid ground. He dragged him by the arm to a fallen tree that was propped up against its own splintered stump, leaving it angled just a few feet off the ground.

“How did you- You were just over there, how-”

“Get down!”

“What?”

“Get. Down!” Roman shoved his shoulders and Patton had no choice but to collapse, blending into a pile of ferns beneath the bend of the tree. “Take off the backpack, put it in front of you. It blends in better than you do.” He yanked off the dark green camera bag as he spoke, situating it in front of Patton. “Don’t move, don’t make a sound, don’t fucking breathe, Patton, I swear.” The flashlight flicked off and thumped to the ground as Roman walked away, leaving him standing in the pale moonlight. Patton debated reaching for the flashlight, but that would mean exposing himself from the foliage he was tucked in and under, and Roman had seemed really scared. 

There was a rustle in the underbrush in front of Roman, and the photographer shoved his fist into his mouth before he could gasp. 

“Roman, it’s so nice to see you back home. It’s been far too long.”

“It’s been hardly a month, mother.”

The woman that emerged from the tree’s shadows wore a black cloak, nearly blending into the forest around her as the fabric swirled hypnotically by her ankles with each step. Silver embroidery made up the tight bodice and strung together the corset front, meeting at the bottom in an intricate knot and trailing almost down to the earth in two strands. How her intricate updo had stayed intact through a walk in the forest, Patton couldn’t understand. 

However, if this was Roman’s mother, he did understand where he got his looks. The only word that came to his mind was ethereal; all smooth pale skin, those same impossibly dark eyes, red lips curved in a constant, easy smile. She was beautiful, but she was terrifying, and Patton backed up more into his fern hiding spot. 

She lifted her flared sleeves towards Roman as she stepped into the moonlit opening and he pulled her hands towards himself, kissing both of her cheeks before releasing her. 

“A month is too long, darling,” She purred, letting the back of her hand trail down his cheek. “I don’t understand why you find it necessary to stay amongst those humans when you could be with your family.”

“Because I want more than just… lounging, and talking with my brothers. Do you have to bring this up every time I visit?” Despite his slightly aggravated tone, he leaned into her touch. 

“When you’re older, you’ll look back at these choices with embarrassment and resentment.”

“Maybe.” 

“I just don’t want you to blame me when you do.”

“I could never, I promise.”

She sighed heavily, “They miss you, Roman. We all do.”

“Which is why I’m here, mom. You act as if I’ve been gone a millenia.” 

“Worrying is what a mother does best,” She smiled fondly, tapping his cheek with her finger, “You’re home, darling. Drop the glamor? It must be tiring keeping it up constantly.”

There was a moment of hesitation, where Patton couldn’t help but tense up along with the man in front of him. Then the air shifted, like it had been holding a breath it could finally let out, and though there was nothing different that Patton could see from Roman’s back, a certain jolt of fear hit him out of nowhere. 

“There’s my boy.” The woman drew him in for a proper hug, one hand reaching around his back to rest on his head. She pressed a kiss to his hair when he wrapped his arms around her in turn. Suddenly her nose wrinkled and she pulled away, holding his shoulders at arm’s length. “Dearest, you smell like humans again.”

Roman chuckled, but there was a new quiver in his voice. “The only flaw in being surrounded by them so often. Let me change, and I’ll come meet you for dinner.”

She didn’t move, eyes narrowing as she watched his face. “No… it’s not you.”

“What? What else could it possibly-”

“There’s a human here.” Her voice was utterly calm, but she pushed Roman behind her resolutely. “There must be.”

“What?!” 

A low growl filled the air, and it took Patton a few moments to realize the sound was originating from her. She stepped past Roman, her dress flowing soundlessly along with her as she glared into the woods around them. 

Her eyes flashed red.

Once again, Patton shoved his fist into his mouth to hide a scream. That same alien jolt of fear returned as she moved closer to him, seemingly zeroing in on his location. 

“Mother, come now. You’re being silly. Humans can't even come near here, remember? You made sure of that yourself!”

Patton tore his eyes away from the advancing woman and his breath caught in his throat. Roman had followed his mother, trying to placate her gently with a hand on her arm, and in doing so, had turned towards Patton’s hiding spot.

When Patton opened his eyes shortly after being born, he was taken away from his mother, despite his parent’s strong objections and his wails. He was returned hours later, much to their relief. On his birth certificate, his right eye was labeled blue. His left eye, the side usually taken by the natural color of his soulmate’s, was labeled ‘Defective’.

When he was set to start school at six years old, his mother sat him down on his bed and taught him how to properly cover his left eye with his hair. They’d grown it out enough to do so. Patton had asked why it was necessary, and subsequently learned the truth that not all people were as accepting and loving as his parents. 

When he was ten, he returned home from school crying. He dropped into his mother’s arms and she held him until his sobs turned to sniffles, until he could explain between sharp breaths that a bully at school had revealed Patton’s eye while trying to force him into a fight, and… well, his classmates hadn’t taken it well. Those who weren’t downright afraid of him, refused to eat or sit with him anymore. But it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t help it!

His eye was labeled ‘Defective’, because never before had the doctor’s seen a child born with a red eye. Not the pale color that came with pinkeye, or an allergic reaction, but the iris itself was such a bold, blood red color that it had left the team scrambling for any record of such an incident. They were left with more questions than answers. But the world had yet to understand how soulmates worked in the first place, so they chalked it up to another universal mystery.

Every day for as long as he could remember, Patton had stared into a mirror first thing in the morning, greeted with calm, airy blue on one side, and fiery, almost electric red on the other. 

So it was jarring to see such a sight, yet reversed, on another person. But as Roman tugged again on his mother’s arm, there was no denying it; the man’s own color was a gleaming ruby, and the other was Patton’s very own blue. 

“Mother, look,” Roman blurted out, scooping up the discarded flashlight from the forest floor, “This is a human tool. I’m sure this is what you’re smelling.”

She ripped the device from his hand, shaking it in his face, “That is still far too close to home, Roman! Humans have been here, and I guarantee they are still nearby.”

“And you don’t know how many there are, Mom!” Roman insisted, taking her hands. “It doesn’t matter how they got here, or why they did,” A slow grin spread across his face, highlighting a pair of glinting fangs, “Why don’t you gather the family, and we can find them together? I can’t even remember the last time I really ate.”

The woman was satiated by this answer, though she still cast the forest cautious looks. “Stay put, Roman. We’ll be back shortly.” Her nose wrinkled again. “Along with a change of clothes for you.”

And then she was gone, the only remaining trace being the tiny cloud of dust she’d left behind. Roman was calm for a moment, making sure she was really gone, before his demeanor dropped. The cocky smirk was gone, and he no longer held the confidence he’d had, either as a bartender or in the presence of his mother. 

“We don’t have a lot of time, c’mon! Let’s go!” He crouched before the log, extending his hand to Patton.

“What the hell are you?!” Patton shrieked. Interesting, that those were the first words from his jumble of thoughts that came out.

“Oh, come on, do you really need to ask? I’m pretty sure you already know!” 

And yeah, Patton was pretty sure he knew. He wasn’t an idiot. He’d had a teen Twilight phase, so of course the obvious answer was there. It just… it wasn’t possible. His brain was scrambling for any kind of other solution, anything that made sense, but it all kept circling to the same answer. 

The cute bartender at the inn was a vampire. 

… 

Okay then.

Next problem.

“I… yeah. I think I got it.”

“Good! Now let’s go!” Roman grabbed Patton’s hand and yanked, effectively pulling him from his hiding place and nearly tearing the arm from it’s socket. Patton stumbled from the sudden movement and tripped on his camera bag, yelping as he crashed into Roman’s chest. 

The vampire’s hands instantly wrapped around his waist, steadying him as he found his footing. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m all good, I just-”

Roman was much taller than he’d thought; that was the initial thought that came to mind as he looked up at the man holding him. The second was, well, the fact that his jaw had dropped open upon seeing Patton’s eyes, and for the first time since they’d met, the guy was completely speechless. 

Patton felt his left eye began to tingle as they shifted into its own natural color. He ignored it.

“You really didn’t see it? At the bar?” Patton whispered.

“No, you moved too fast,” Roman murmured, bringing a hand up to Patton’s cheek. “You… you’re my-”

He must have sensed something, or heard something that was too quiet for Patton’s ears, because his head whipped towards the castle. 

“We need to go. Now.” Roman intertwined their fingers and pulled him into a run towards the town.

“Wait, no! My bag!” He tugged hard to try and get his hand free, but he was truly no match for Roman.

“Not important right now, sweetheart!”

 Without the aid of his flashlight, and enveloped by the darkness of the forest, Patton was totally blind, relying only on Roman’s grip to keep him from falling. Branches hit his face and roots reached up to trip him, but every time he stumbled, the hand tightened and pulled him back upright. 

A howl cut through the air. 

“What now, werewolves?!” Patton shrieked.

“Don’t be ridiculous, werewolves aren’t real!” Roman scoffed, “They’re normal wolves! What, you think just because we’re vampires, we’re unable to have pets?”

“Is this really a conversation we should be having at this exact moment?!” Patton shot back.

“You’re right, you’re right, okay.”

The howls were growing closer, and it was clear by Roman’s increased pace that this wasn’t about to be a friendly reunion.

“Can we outrun them?!”

“I take it you’ve never met a wolf!” 

Patton looked up at him desperately, already struggling to keep up the conversation and keep up with Roman. 

“I thought vampires had… like, super speed!”

“I wouldn’t be able to go for long, especially carrying you. Jump!”

Patton leapt blindly, feeling the side of a fallen log scrape the toes of his shoes. The landing was rough, sparks of pain shooting up his legs, but he was quickly pulled back upright. 

“I don’t have the energy! I haven’t eaten in months!”

There were more yowls, definitely closer this time, followed by the sound of multiple animals fighting, barely louder than a voice shouting (presumably) at the racket. Whether it was the wolves having a spat, or a prey animal that had gotten in the way of the hunt, Patton didn’t know. It drew out a small whimper from him either way.

He didn’t want to be next. 

“Do you trust me?” Roman suddenly gasped, holding his hand firmer. 

“What?!”

“Do. You. Trust. Me?!”

Patton didn’t exactly think he had a choice right now. His feet were aching, his lungs were burning, and he wasn’t sure he could run another minute without his legs giving out. “I- Yeah! Sure!”

“Good enough,” Roman grunted bitterly, screeching to a halt, and using his grip on the other’s arm to stop him too. Before Patton could even bring himself to complain, or scream at him, or just incoherently yell, the vampire was drawing him to his chest, puppeting his arms so they were around his shoulders.

“Hold on.”

Obediently, Patton tightened the grip. “Why-”

And then there was a sharp pain in his neck, and his eyes widened. The sting almost immediately morphed into a pleasant warmth, the distant howling being replaced by a faint humming, the buzzing of his own mind calming, becoming numb until the only thought in his head was Roman, Roman, Roman- 

He could feel Roman’s hand on his head, not restricting it, but cupping the back of it so he could lean against him as he stared up at the night sky, the full moon, and the slow blurring of the tops of the pine trees. His other arm was wrapped around his waist tightly, holding him up, and Patton was beyond grateful for the support as his legs began to turn to jelly. The last thing Patton felt was the vampire scooping up his legs and his head being cradled against the soft material of Roman’s shirt. 

Then everything went dark. 

-0-0-0-

Patton woke up slowly, squinting against the harsh sunlight streaming through his window. He dropped an arm across his eyes lazily, letting out a low groan at his pounding headache. There were voices downstairs in the tavern, and what sounded like dishes clanging, and he wondered if somehow this place was also a restaurant. How on earth could anybody run an establishment like that? It’s like the place never slept-

A wave of nausea pooled in his gut due to the speed of which he sat up but that wasn’t important, not right now. He flung his blankets back and… oh. He was dressed in his pajamas. Last he could remember, in the woods, running with Roman, he’d been in day clothes, in the sweater and shirt that was now draped on a chair across the room. His camera bag was... on the desk. His shoes were by the door, dirt free.

He raised his finger tips to his neck, expecting to feel a raised scab, or scar, any sign that he’d been bitten. There was nothing. 

He swung his legs over the sides of the beds and immediately shut his eyes, fighting off an explosion of dizziness induced sparks that shot across his vision. It sure felt as if he’d lost some blood. As much as he didn’t want to believe he had a hangover from one drink, that could also be an explanation. He’d always been a bit of a lightweight.

A dream. Was it all just… a dream?

A feeling of disappointment washed over him and he sighed, running his hands up through his hair. Something soft snagged on his fingers and he carefully detangled it from the curls, pulling it out curiously. He blinked at the fern leaf between his finger tips. That definitely hadn’t happened between his car, the tavern, or the room... So- 

He sucked in a breath sharply as his eyes locked with the mirror’s reflection in front of him, every thought coming to a halt.

Because staring back, for the first time ever, were two perfectly blue eyes.

I have a bunch of world building ideas that weren’t included in this fic, shoot me an ask if you have any lore questions!

General taglist:

@max-is-tired

@private-snippers

@joylessnightsky

[veterveter]

It's me, the person with the most picky taste in AUs (we haven't been introduced like that before, I believe, so hello!), and I just spun the mental wheel of AUs from the list and it's landed on the "Wrong number AU" 😋

At the exact moment when his phone rang, Andrés was contemplating pouring some boiling water on his right foot, just so he might have something to do. He was bored out of his mind.

After his newest robbery, which had admittedly not gone entirely according to plan, through no fault of Andrés’s, Sergio had been so worried about him being caught by the police that he had shipped him off to Columbia and equipped him with an Argentinian burner phone without any credit to make calls.

Andrés had now spent two entire weeks at the safe house, with only a sometimes-functioning radio and that useless phone to keep him company. It was not the high life he had imagined for himself.

Regardless of all this, when the phone rang, he picked it up very cautiously. Sergio was the only one who had the number, but it didn’t seem likely that he would call, he was always so careful and calculated – unless something had gone wrong, on his end.

“Hello?” he answered, idly wondering how the good people of Argentina usually answered their phones.

“Hi, I’d like to order a pizza,” announced a man’s voice politely at the other end of the line.

Andrés took the burner phone away from his ear and stared at it for a moment. Had Sergio finally decided to arrange some entertainment for him, after all?

“Hello?” the stranger tried.

“You’ve got the wrong number.” Either that, or this was some kind of a ploy by the police – albeit a very strange one. And Sergio would have never been careless enough to leave this burner phone traceable.

“Do I? Well, fuck.” He had a nice little Argentinian accent, full of soft lilts, dropping out letters and grossly mispronouncing others.

“Have you memorised the number for a local pizza place or something?” Andrés asked, amused by this turn of events.

“Something like that. Apparently I did a terrible job at it.”

“Truly. Just save it for next time.”

Considering how Andrés was still entertaining this phone call, he was starved for human contact, surely. That, and bored. Sergio shouldn’t have just left him here. It was rude.

“Great advice, thank you so much.” Andrés liked to imagine he might hear an eye roll.

“Did you see the news about the jewellery heist?” he asked, liked basking for a moment in the idea that the news would have travelled this far, that quickly.

“The one in Croatia? I did, actually. Why are you asking?”

“Just curious.”

There was a brief silence at the other end of the line, but it seemed thoughtful rather than dismissive. “I’ll admit, it was a well-made plan. Just on the right side of reckless. I like that in a job.”

Andrés craned his neck at the praise. “Have you stolen things, yourself?” The way the man talked about it made the answer seem obvious – who even called them jobs? – but Andrés wanted to hear more about it. There was something enticing about the prospect, speaking with another criminal without needing to bother to actually encounter one. So many of them were brainless idiots.

“Nothing I would admit to on the phone,” the man said, but with an amused rhythm to the words. “I have never strayed on the wrong side of the law.”

“No, me neither.”

“Obviously not. Castellano, so probably too good to be stealing things, right?” Andrés may have momentarily forgotten that he too had an accent, but there was something pleasant about being seen, and known, in this manner.

“Absolutely.”

“Well, I’m not above it for any moral concerns. Just legal reasons. Prisons are fucking awful.”

“Of course. Say, what would you steal, if you were to change your mind?”

“Banco de España,” the man replied, without hesitation. Like he really had thought about it. Like it was obvious to him, that given the opportunity, he might rob only one of the best-guarded buildings in all of Spain.

“Well, you’re not overflowing with humility.” Andrés liked that, actually. He found too many people to be ridiculously bound by falsified modesty, unable to demand for what they truly wanted.

“Why not? I think there would be a poetic justice in it. You stole our gold; I would be taking it back.”

Poetic justice. Andrés liked that thought.

“And bathe in it, I suppose?”

“Would you not? Of course I would bathe in it. I would do everything—” he stretched out the word in a way that made Andrés understand implications he had never heard aimed at himself before, but he didn’t find it unpleasant. He was somewhat intrigued, actually. Probably just bored out of his mind, and thus willing to entertain any thoughts that crossed his mind. “—in that gold.”

Andrés found himself considering, for some reason, asking this stranger if he’d be interested. In stealing things. With Andrés. He felt like he could use a partner, someone who wasn’t as uptight and bound by ethics as Sergio. He could use a partner, as long as he was trustworthy. And where did you go about finding trustworthy criminals? Might as well entertain this one that had appeared out of nowhere. He might even consider Banco de España, if they crafted a functional plan, one that was just on the right side of reckless.

He liked the man’s accent, and his levity. He liked hearing the praise, even if it wasn’t intended as such. He liked his brashness. Those were all equally awful reasons to ask someone to steal jewellery with him.

And yet…

“Well, as pleasant as this has been, I’m hungry. I’m going to actually order that pizza now. Chau.”

The man at the other end ended the call, before Andrés had the chance to even respond. Not that he had a response in mind, anyway.

Andrés automatically checked for a caller ID, but it had been an unknown number.

Ah, well.

He had momentarily imagined a future for himself, with this stranger, but he was sure it wouldn’t have worked out regardless. The man was probably nothing more than a petty and talentless pickpocket, the kind South America was full of. Andrés was just bored. If he truly wanted a companion that badly, he could easily find one on the street. They were thirteen to a dozen.

Andrés was better off without him. He was better off without anyone, for that matter.

It was just as well.

[sareesonscreen]

S1 E3: Sex and Sexuality in South Asian Media

In this episode, we will be talking about Sex and Sexuality in South Asian Media. This is in essence the first half of a two-part conversation. In this first half, we hope to address the broader discussions around Sex and Sexuality in the media in our region. And in our next discussion episode, the conversation will continue into an in-depth discussion around Queer Media.

It’s been empowering to see many people speak about sex so candidly today. This was nearly unimaginable even a decade ago. Unfortunately, open conversations around sex and sexuality continue to be taboo in our society, but it’s been great to see a segment of people start to chip away at that reluctance to talk about such a fundamental part of all our lives.

There are a lot of great podcasters and Youtubers who share their experiences on this (linked below). And we highly recommend you give them a listen (links below). While we absolutely value the importance of sharing lived experiences, in this episode, we will specifically look at the media we consume - how it portrays sex and sexualities of women and marginalized people, and how it shapes the greater societal conversations around these issues.

We wanted to highlight the importance of recognizing that sex and sexuality is experienced very differently and uniquely by everyone. There is no universal women’s experience or queer experience. The specific socio-economic and cultural locations that shape our identities empower and disempower us in different ways, also change how we engage with sex and our sexualities. 

The movies and shows we plan to talk about in this episode come from Netflix productions, slightly indie parts of Bollywood, and the West Bengali film industry. While the chosen media here vary in their representations of language, socioeconomic class, urban/rural spaces, and to a degree caste, a common critique for all the movies chosen (and of us as well) is that it mostly still looks at sex and sexuality through the imposed universality of an upper class/upper caste gaze. We did our best to make note of this as we discussed the issues pertaining to this episode. 

The AIDS epidemic of the 1980s was the first time that conversations around sex and sexuality were forced into the public sphere, outside its usual legal, medical, and demographic confines. Then in the ’90s, with the rise in access to electricity and televisions, a new brand of more explicit sexual imagery entered South Asian homes and media. 

It’s not that sex was invented in the ’90s, or that people in the subcontinent didn’t engage in sex or non-heteronormative sexuality (including gay men and sex workers). It’s just that it became a more constant presence in the media that we consumed.

In the 2000s, there was suddenly more “sex” on local television and movies. Still heteronormative, still patriarchal, of course. We were showered with the overwhelmingly hetero male gazes in Imran Hashmi movies and the item songs that accompanied almost every movie of that decade. In even worse scenarios, there was the inescapable plight of gratuitous violence in the rape scenes. 

Luckily, even through that period - healthier works were being created in more indie industries or regional media. West Bengal, amongst others, was prominent in producing more “forward” and mature depictions of sex and sexuality.

What’s unfortunate is because of how inaccessible these local healthier portrayals of sex were, a lot of us who had the alternative of having access to Western narratives of sex/sexuality, kind of clung to it. Our vocabulary around sex ended up being heavily shaped by a culture that we didn’t live in. When it felt like the words for sex and sexuality are limited to medical terms or slurs, it was easy to just assume the western alternative (added with our post-colonial hang-ups).  

It’s been very fortunate that the film industries and the artists within it continued to push for better media in this realm. In the last decade, we’ve seen some very prominent works that highlight sex/sexuality that made it to mainstream success. In this episode, we’ll be primarily tackling 3 movies that have done so - Lust Stories, a Bollywood anthology hit, Parched - an Indie movie directed by Leena Yadav and Rajkahini - a take on the partition of the Indian subcontinent through the setting of a brothel and the issues faced by the sex-workers residing there, directed by Srijit Mukherji. 

Through these movies - we hope to tackle some of the major issues confronting discussions around sex and sexuality.

Often discussion around sex and sexuality is looked at with a male-centric gaze, especially in their depictions of women - this was especially apparent in Karan Johar’s short in Lust Stories as well as the portrayals of sex workers in Rajkahini. Some of these portrayals used women’s sexuality for the sake of shock value and titillation and did not take into account the multiple facets of people’s identities that influence their sexual expression. 

Parched was refreshing in its gentler, more feminine take on women’s sexuality showing empathy, affection, and agency as necessary elements of fulfilling sexual experiences. However, even Parched failed to fully consider the “unsexy” elements of how sexuality is affected everyday lives - the women who were the protagonists in Parched were shown to be from a remote, rural village in India, and yet no discussion on their sexuality ever included the structural realities that rural women face in South Asia, like the lack of access to basic sanitation, water or even, privacy.

Any depiction of marginalized people when exploring their sexuality is incomplete without understanding their material struggles. The film, though shot from a feminine gaze, is unable to shed its upper-class/upper-caste romanticization of marginalized women’s lives. This re-orientalization of disadvantaged women’s struggles to be consumed by a privileged, upper-class/ Western audience is an appropriation of the challenges they face, packaged to be palatable (even enjoyable) to its privileged viewers. It is also made worse when the cast and the culture is a hodgepodge of people from completely different cultures than the ones being portrayed.

Rajkahini, while claiming to be telling the stories of ‘forgotten women’ ends up using the women characters as props for the overarching narratives of loss and displacement during the Partition of 1947. Only one character - that of Begum Jaan is given agency and individuality and even she becomes a stereotypical version of the soft on the inside, harsh on the outside, raspy-voiced Madame. The other women characters are only shown to be recipients of violence and abuse and the script and direction do very little to empower them.

Zoya Akhtar & Anurag Kashyap both attempted to make shorts on the sociocultural power dynamics that plague sexuality and sexual interaction in their contributions to Lust Stories. While Zoya Akhtar was more slightly successful in addressing perceptions of the economic and class dynamics between two sexual partners, Anurag Kashyap’s short woefully fell prey to a tired narrative of the “crazy woman” even though it began with a laudable commentary on the predatory relationship dynamic between older women and younger men.

Our main goal in this episode was to examine how mainstream and indie representations of sex and sexuality further (or set back) important conversations around these issues. While Parched and Zoya Akhtar’s short made some commendable efforts, most of these pieces of media were unable to take on a fully intersectional lens to these controversial, but extremely relevant issues for the larger South Asian audience.

In our upcoming episodes, we plan to address topics in consent and rape culture which we briefly touched on in this episode. We also hope to tackle movies from other parts of South Asia as we do this. This episode was so important to us, be sure to let us know what you thought of this episode!

Further Readings + Content

Singh, Asha. “Are All Women’s Stories the Same?” Round Table India. Oct 19, 2016. https://roundtableindia.co.in/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=8831:parched-and-feminism-are-all-women-s-stories-the-same&catid=119:feature&Itemid=13

Sander, Lalon. “Eleven Heroines Does Not A Feminist Film Make: A Review of Srijit Mukherji’s "Rajkahini.” The Caravan. Oct 31, 2015. https://caravanmagazine.in/vantage/eleven-heroines-not-feminist-make-review-rajkahini

Singh, Poonam. “Film Review: Parched, Of Women Thirsting for More.” Feminism in India. Sept 26, 2016. https://feminisminindia.com/2016/09/26/film-review-parched/

Ghosh, Stutee. “Review: Women in Radhika Apte’s ‘Parched’ Are Bruised, Not Bechari.” The Quint. Sept 22, 2016. https://www.thequint.com/entertainment/film-review-women-in-radhika-aptes-parched-are-bruised-not-bechari-ajay-devgn-surveen-chawla-feminism#read-more

Podcasters

Masala Podcast https://www.soulsutras.co.uk/masala-podcast/

Brown Girls Do it Too https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p08k5cp0/episodes/downloads

Chuski Pop http://chuskipop.com/

Liberating Sexuality https://www.instagram.com/liberatingsexuality/?hl=en

[cassolotl]

Just submitted my response to the Trans Inquiry 2 (England and Wales)

You can see the call for evidence from the W&EC here on Twitter, and submit your evidence here. It requires a Word, ODT or RTF file to be uploaded. You can write as much or as little as you like.

The deadline is tomorrow, Friday 27th November 2020.

My response is below the cut, because it’s over 3,000 words long...! But please, be aware that you can write 20 words if you need to. You can just say “I’m trans and the reforms still don’t allow me to have a gender recognition certificate. They don’t go far enough, because the process is unnecessarily medicalised and still doesn’t accommodate nonbinary people.”

~

ABOUT ME

I am 34 years old. I live in Powys, Wales. I am nonbinary - specifically, I feel like I have no gender at all. My pronouns are singular they (they/them/their/theirs/themself, plural verbs). I learned what nonbinary was when I was 24, and immediately came out and began my transition. I have been attending the NHS gender identity clinic (GIC) in London since April 2012, about 8.5 years. Throughout that time I have presented as openly nonbinary, and have had surgeries and hormone treatments from the NHS to aid in an androgynous presentation. I have all the records and paperwork that I would need to receive a gender recognition certificate (GRC), if one were available to nonbinary people. I am openly nonbinary with everyone I see and interact with on a regular basis (social workers, support workers, landlords, friends and family, etc).

~

SUMMARY

The Government’s proposed reforms are positive but only a fraction of the changes needed to ensure trans people have equal rights and sufficient trans-specific medical care.

In particular, three additional gender clinics in the NHS are horrifically insufficient, especially for children and adolescents facing the body-horror and permanence of the wrong puberty, resulting in preventable major surgeries. Requirements for obtaining a gender recognition certificate remain excessive, demoralising and unnecessary. The financial cost currently involved is much greater than the £140 fee, making a fee reduction seem like lip service.

The gender recognition process remains needlessly and discriminatorially medicalised, unacceptably has higher standards for gender recognition than the NHS has for medical transition, and allows for stalling and abuse by spouses because UK marriage laws are needlessly gendered. It also does not account for Gillick competence in the case of legal gender recognition for children.

There is a complete lack of provision for nonbinary people, which is unacceptable, especially now that the courts have found that nonbinary people are protected under the transition characteristic of the Equality Act 2010. This means that nonbinary people are unable to marry or parent children while being authentic in their genders, and are unable to receive a correct pension.

These barriers presented to trans people mean that still only a minority of trans people will access gender recognition certificates, which results in unnecessary and preventable problems for trans people, but also for the systems that have to accommodate them in accordance with the Equality Act 2010.

~

RESPONSES TO PROMPTS

The Government’s response to the GRA consultation:

Will the Government’s proposed changes meet its aim of making the process “kinder and more straight forward”?

Yes, but only marginally.

Three new GICs: Each month the NHS makes several months’ worth of referrals to GICs. Nowhere in the UK is it possible to access a GIC within the 18-week NHS-set timeline; the average wait is 18 months, which is horrific for transgender adults, and devastating and traumatic for transgender adolescents who are forced to go through the body-horror of the wrong puberty while waiting for two appointments to be prescribed puberty blockers. [1] It follows that in order to bring this waiting list down to lawful amount of time we need to increase the number of NHS GICs not by 40% but by 400%.

Fee reduction to “nominal amount”: I have still seen no reason to delay making this process a demedicalised case of submitting a form declaring a change of legal gender, much like changing one’s name by deed poll. We are not charged to update our details with HMRC, so we need not be charged for updating our details at a General Register Office.

Placing the procedure online: This is something that should have been done decades ago, but better late than never. It is also an attempt to repair the Titanic with superglue as it sinks. The system is difficult to access for all trans people, but not because of the method of application. The problem is that we are required to apply to the gender recognition panel at all.

Should a fee for obtaining a Gender Recognition Certificate be removed or retained? 

It should be removed. It is arbitrary, and other administrative changes of a similar nature and risk level do not have fees associated.

Are there other financial burdens on applicants that could be removed or retained?

The requirement to provide medical evidence for change of gender is unnecessary and costs money. For example, living in rural West Wales means that for the 8 years I’ve been attending the London GIC I have been paying for accommodation in London, because it is not physically possible to travel to London by public transport and back in one day when attending a GIC appointment. Each trip costs me at least £80 or so out of pocket, because I have to find accommodation close to the GIC for me and a PA (I am disabled and receive direct payments). I am entitled to have my travel costs refunded by the NHS but others are not, so attending GIC appointments will cost them money even if they don’t have to stay overnight.

At the moment the wait of in some cases several years for a first appointment followed by 1.5 years waiting for the second appointment means patients being referred today will be waiting 4-5 years for their first hormone prescription or surgery referral, so a significant number of people who would like a GRC have to pay for private treatment to get the proof they need within a reasonable timeframe.

Should the requirement for a diagnosis of gender dysphoria be removed?

Yes. Legal gender need not be a medical issue. As when changing one’s name, legal gender need only be a case of signing a document with witnesses. The two reasons I’ve heard cited against demedicalising the gender recognition process are (1) fraud prevention and (2) protection of vulnerable women in single-sex spaces.

(1) We already have laws against fraud, and it is very easy and cheap to legally change one’s name in the UK. When you consider how “identifying” something like a gender is when compared to other identity metrics such as photographs, dates of birth, names, etc. (i.e. not very), it seems absurd that gender is so difficult to change. Existing fraud laws would allow for prosecution as easily if changing one’s legal gender were a matter of a statutory declaration only.

(2) We already have laws against abuse of women, women’s spaces are already protected even taking into account the Equality Act 2010, and in general the women responsible for protecting those women-only spaces currently accommodate and welcome trans women and have done for a long time. [2] Birth certificates are not required for accessing women-only spaces such as shelters, toilets and changing rooms. Other ID that might be required in a less free version of our current society, such as driver’s licences or passports, do not require a gender recognition certificate to have the gender marker changed, so demedicalising the gender recognition process has no effect on provision of necessary gender-exclusive services.

Anyone wishing to use an alternative gender presentation for fraudulent or abusive purposes does not have a more difficult time in the crimes that they are attempting to commit thanks to the Gender Recognition Act. The fact that currently only 1 in 10 transgender people have a GRC suggests that the system can currently accommodate people whose genders don’t match their birth certificates or tax records, so presumably making it much easier for people to make all of their IDs match will make no difference to fraud and abuse incidence, and may make it easier by removing discrepancies.

I would also argue that the current “gender dysphoria diagnosis —> correct ID” situation is back-to-front. Wanting ID that reflects a gender that is different from the one you were assigned at birth is evidence of gender dysphoria, and so applying for a birth certificate that shows a different gender to the one you were assigned at birth should be considered evidence of gender dysphoria for a diagnosis. It doesn’t need to go through a doctor; wanting to change the ID should be enough on its own.

Should there be changes to the requirement for individuals to have lived in their acquired gender for at least two years?

Yes. Being transgender isn’t something that comes on suddenly later in life. It is a neurodevelopmental issue, considered by some medical professionals to begin in the womb. Having to wait two more years to have that gender recognised in law seems arbitrary and unnecessary.

Most transgender people have known that their gender was different to the one they were assigned at birth for years before they begin their transition. I would say that making it very difficult to change one’s legal gender is, among other factors, something that contributes to this unfortunate tendency.

I understand that living in a new gender role for two years is considered proof of commitment to that gender role by the state. Proof of this nature is not required for other administrative matters such as change of name or title. Let’s imagine the same situation for something that might be considered harder to change because it is by its nature decided by biology: date of birth. If one’s date of birth had been entered incorrectly on a birth certificate and the individual or their parents noticed some years later, the birth certificate could be corrected with, at most, medical records showing that the baby was born on a different day. Likewise, to change a gender marker on a birth certificate should require, at most, medical records showing that the individual’s gender was assigned incorrectly at birth. This would be a copy of a letter from a doctor diagnosing gender dysphoria, which requires only 6 months of a specific type of discomfort. The legal system therefore is four times more strict about changing legal gender than the NHS is about referring for permanent gender-affirming surgery or prescribing hormones that cause permanent physical change. This is unnecessarily stringent. It could be considered discriminatory under the Equality Act 2010: trans people are less able to change incorrect records relating to their gender, in accordance with GDPR, because of the additional barriers.

If the gender recognition process was easy and cheap, and for some reason a person changed their gender marker on a whim and then wanted to change it back, it would be very easy for them to do so - but as you learned in the first Trans Inquiry some years ago, countries such as Ireland, where it is easy and cheap to change your legal gender, have not seen this happen. In general, we know that when it is easy and cheap to change your one’s legal gender, people tend to do it once and then never again.

What is your view of the statutory declaration and should any changes have been made to it?

I have no problem with the statutory declaration aspect of the gender recognition process. It seems acceptable that a change intended to be permanent should require the signing of a binding legal document, and that people who do so for fraudulent or otherwise harmful reasons be subject to criminal proceedings.

I am opposed to a spouse’s consent being required for married/civil-partnered people, as it gives another person unnecessary and potentially harmful control over their spouse’s transition.

Does the spousal consent provision in the Act need reforming? If so, how? If it needs reforming or removal, is anything else needed to protect any rights of the spouse or civil partner?

I understand that when one person in a marriage is changing their gender that changes the legal status of the marriage from a different-gender marriage to a same-gender marriage, or vice versa, and I agree that a spouse must consent to that change as an equal participant.

In order to resolve this issue, I would suggest making marriage law gender-neutral. There is no reason to have a same-gender marriage be any different than a different-gender marriage in law. It need not be “men can marry women, men can marry men, women can marry men, women can marry women” - it can simply be that an adult can marry another adult. That way, if one of the spouses changes their gender, the marriage is unchanged.

This would also prepare marriage law for legal recognition of nonbinary genders.

Should the age limit at which people can apply for a Gender Recognition Certificate (GRC) be lowered?

I am not aware of any reason why it would not be appropriate. In the UK, the NHS has a policy of assuming that children are capable of understanding and consenting (or not consenting) to medical treatment. It should be assumed that a child can also consent (or not) to having the gender marker on their birth certificate changed.

What impact will these proposed changes have on those people applying for a Gender Recognition Certificate, and on trans people more generally?

Moving the process online will allow people to apply electronically, which would likely have a positive impact on the environment due to being less CO2-intensive. It may also make the process faster, which would be positive.

Making the process cheaper will allow poorer people to apply for a GRC, which is positive.

The NHS providing 3 more GICs will allow some patients to travel a shorter distance to access care, which is positive.

However, I don’t think these changes will have a significant impact on the most serious issues affecting transgender people. I consider these to be: excessive waiting times for transition-related treatments, difficulty of access to change of legal gender, the demoralising and humiliating nature of the gender recognition process, and the complete lack of legal recognition of nonbinary genders in UK law.

What else should the Government have included in its proposals, if anything?

Legal recognition of nonbinary genders (including availability of gender recognition certificates and X gender markers on state-issued ID), legal gender recognition by statutory declaration, 400% increase in the number of gender identity clinics in the UK, and no cost for GRC application.

Does the Scottish Government’s proposed Bill offer a more suitable alternative to reforming the Gender Recognition Act 2004?

Yes.

Living in the “new” gender role is required for only 6 months, in line with diagnosis of gender dysphoria. A diagnosis of gender dysphoria is not required, as living in the “new” gender role would suggest that the person has gender dysphoria to the extent that they wish to live in the “new” role and the official diagnosis would be superfluous. A statutory declaration is required, which seems acceptable. All of this seems positive to me.

Requiring applicants to wait for three months to consider their application seems unnecessarily patronising and patriarchal, but the proposed Scottish Bill is still much more fit for purpose than the current and proposed England-and-Wales model.

~

Wider issues concerning transgender equality and current legislation:

Why is the number of people applying for GRCs so low compared to the number of people identifying as transgender?

I am not sure. I imagine there are several complex and intersecting reasons.

I think cost is probably an issue. I think that the amount and type of evidence currently required by the gender recognition panel is not very easy to obtain, and the applicant is unable to sit before the panel in person with or without a legal representative, and so there is a high risk that applicants will not meet the panel’s obscure criteria or be able to persuade them or answer their concerns/questions in person. If the application fails the money is lost, and the (significant) effort involved in application is wasted. The latter is offputting for everyone who might consider applying, and the former is a bonus barrier for poorer people.

I would speculate that it might also be because because living as a different gender than the one you were assigned at birth and getting medical treatment are easier and more medically urgent than changing one’s birth certificate, especially when compared to the frequency with which one has to show one’s birth certificate (and therefore “out” oneself, if one does not already have a GRC).

I think there is a tendency for people to think, “well, how often do I have to show my birth certificate or my tax records to people I have direct contact with? And how often are they going to be indiscreet and transphobic about it? Hardly ever, right?” But by the time they find out that transphobic people do exist and do make an issue about it, or by the time they have to show their birth certificate to someone they’d rather not come out to, it is too late and they are not able to apply for a GRC and get their records updated in time. Not having a GRC is therefore always a problem in the past, which removes urgency.

By comparison, gender dysphoria is a chronic and acute daily psychological discomfort, which is much harder to ignore.

Are there challenges in the way the Gender Recognition Act 2004 and the Equality Act 2010 interact? For example, in terms of the different language and terminology used across both pieces of legislation.

I understand that the Equality Act 2010 has now been tested in court by a nonbinary person in an employment tribunal and found to protect nonbinary people under the characteristic of gender transition “beyond any doubt”. The Gender Recognition Act doesn’t accommodate or provide for nonbinary people, and is therefore in breach of the Equality Act 2010. [3]

Are the provisions in the Equality Act for the provision of single-sex and separate-sex spaces and facilities in some circumstances clear and useable for service providers and service users? If not, is reform or further guidance needed?

I think the guidance for the Equality Act should explicitly state that nonbinary people are protected under the characteristic of gender transition. I do not feel that I am knowledgeable enough to comment on any other issues.

Does the Equality Act adequately protect trans people? If not, what reforms, if any, are needed

Now that the Equality Act 2010 has been shown in court to protect nonbinary people under the protected characteristic of gender transition I have no complaints.

What issues do trans people have in accessing support services, including health and social care services, domestic violence and sexual violence services?

A lot of trans people just don’t report hate crimes to the police because the police often don’t do anything about it. [4]

Because trans people face extra barriers in matters such as housing, employment, and primary and secondary medical care, they need additional support from e.g. Social Services. This means they have the barrier of having to ask for more than other people do, and for that request to be considered by individuals in the system who may also be transphobic, before being granted.

There was a women’s shelter in a city I used to live in, which said on a sign at the door “no men allowed!”, but then on their website it said “women only”. I emailed to ask for clarification, because I am nonbinary and it was unclear whether I would be allowed on the premises. They said that if I identified as a woman I was welcome to enter. As I don’t identify as a woman I didn’t enter. I would presumably also be barred from entering a shelter for abused men. The difficulty for nonbinary people is that there are no provisions for us whatsoever, whether provided or funded by the government/local authorities or otherwise.

Are legal reforms needed to better support the rights of gender-fluid and non-binary people? If so, how?

Yes. We need to be explicitly written into laws and guidance relating to the following:

- Marriage

- Passports

- Driving licenses

- Adoption

- Sexual violence (as victims and as perpetrators, in matters such as disclosure of transgender identity and medical history, definition of rape, etc.)

- Birth certificates (as parents, e.g. language relating to mother/father, birth parent)

- Pensions

- Hate crime

- Provision of public services and facilities (public toilets, changing rooms)

- Any law that has gender-specific statements or provisions

… and probably more.

~

[1] https://www.pinknews.co.uk/2020/08/13/nhs-trans-patients-laurels-gender-identity-clinic-south-west-waiting-list-yeovil-pride/

[2] https://www.pinknews.co.uk/2018/08/03/domestic-violence-shelters-transgender-no-impact-on-services/

[3] https://www.jdsupra.com/legalnews/gender-is-a-spectrum-landmark-uk-ruling-61650/

[4] Not a reputable third-party source, but a well-described and typical anecdotal example. https://twitter.com/JayHulmePoet/status/1328995596670267392 “Once I reported a hate crime to the police. They dropped the case without telling me, and then when a hate crime advocate called them out on it they took no action AND blamed it on me being open about being trans. I've not reported a hate crime since. The irony of the police telling me not to tell people that I'm trans so I [don’t] get hate crimed (again, not how hate crime law works) is that there's precedent for trans people to be charged with sexual offences if they have sex with someone without disclosing that we're trans.”

[dreamsofwhatlifemighthavebeen]

Fun times dealing with the equestrian center’s radio net. For the director of the equestrian center - who is here on a work visa, doesn’t have a car, and uses one from the equestrian center to take home - they just a few days ago retired a 1985 Chevrolet Chevette she had been using previously, and replaced it with a 2015 Chevrolet Sonic transferred over from one of my employer’s other companies. The Chevette did not have a radio installed in it, but they decided that the Sonic does need one. I don’t know if you’ve ever looked at the interior of a Sonic, but there really isn’t space for any sort of add ons in the interior. It could be installed on the center console on the passenger side and leave room to open the glove compartment, but I really don’t like the idea of having her look way down and to the right to see the radio if she has to switch channels and such, especially as she’s not a particularly fantastic driver to begin with. Even though we sell radios to the equestrian center at a much lower cost than we would for commercial customers, the owner of the equestrian center rejected that idea on cost, as she already knows she can buy TK-860 or TK-880 radios from us for substantially less. So, it looks like it’s going to be a Kenwood TK-880 (mobile radio to the left) mounted on the dash. Which, I don’t like doing dash mounts because I think it looks sloppy and I like my work to be professional, but it’s ultimately her call.

Honestly, I never saw any need to install a radio in her car... even the company which used it previously never saw a need to. So the owner says, “Well, she might drive it to events”. But never has she (the director) ever shown any interest in driving herself to those... if they’re taking the bus, she much prefers that, as she pretty much has a work center there which was made by taking some seats out of the bus and installing a small desk. Otherwise, she’d ride with someone else, even when given the opportunity to take a newer vehicle, and even when offered someone to act as her personal driver. She’s not into driving, and she’s not going to be now. But I lost that argument.

The equestrian center uses an organizational GMRS license which they had originally obtained in 1984 and have maintained since; thus, it was grandfathered in when the FCC stopped issuing organizational licenses in 1987. Originally, they had used the Motorola MR-355R (bottom left) and MR-356R blister pack radios. Problem is, they were buying these things at whatever big box retailers everyone else was buying them at, so we ended up with hordes of unlicensed users getting on the equestrian center repeater (there’s also a sorry saga of how GMRS users were screwed out of exclusivity on Channels 15 - 22 on account of squatters who bought the 22 channel “hybrid” radios en masse and completely ignored the blurb on the packaging which stated use of those channels required a GMRS license).

When I was given charge of the equestrian center’s radio net, I changed a lot of things. First, I limited who accessed the repeater. Crew and barn leads, admin staff, etc. Everyone working under the leads could use simplex, as they were never a far enough distance from each other to require a repeater. So, we were initially going to use BaoFeng BF-888S radios for the crew members who weren’t accessing the repeater, but we had difficulty finding a seller who could guarantee the radios they sold us had the FCC ID on them (a legal requirement in the US for operating transmitting on any service outside of Part 97 rules). We found one who could guarantee it if we bought the BaoFeng GT-1 (second from the left on the bottom row), which is internally the same as the BF-888S, but uses a different battery and case. For the crew leads, barn leads, admin staff, and those who were going to access the repeater, we went with the B-Tech (BaoFeng) UV-82C (not pictured), which is a commercial Part 90 type accepted variant of the UV-82 series radios. The dual watch feature also allows them to monitor both the repeater and their internal crew simplex net simultaneously without having to go into scan mode.

As the blister pack radios used a standardized list of CTCSS and DCS tones, I changed the repeater to split tones, with separate DCS tones for the transmit and receive side, and also used a mixture of non-standard and inverted DCS tones throughout the entire equestrian center net. So while someone running a police scanner or radio on carrier squelch can still hear our traffic, they won’t be able to talk to us or interrupt us with the blister pack radios, Midland radios, etc., as we had problems both with people intentionally getting on our repeater and also those running simplex who “coincidentally” used the same frequencies and DPL tones which we did. Once the FCC co-banded all of the FRS simplex and GMRS frequencies in 2017, we were left powerless to do anything about it (not that we really could before... the FCC was always pretty lax on their enforcement when it came to GMRS). If we run into a matter of getting disrupted by someone who successfully finds our DPL tones, then I have the means to require the radio’s PTT-ID to be on an approved list to trip the repeater.

For the riding instructors, we felt that perhaps something more durable was in order after one of the GT-1s broke. Initially, I took of the Motorola HT750s (second from the right on the bottom row) from the rental side of our business and loaned them to the equestrian center until we could figure out something more permanent. The permanent solution came when I happened across some Kenwood TK-350s (center of the bottom row) which were sitting in a bin and pretty much unwanted. So, after finding batteries for them, I was allowed to take those and donate them to the equestrian center. I actually had to lean how to use DOS in order to program them. Surprisingly, only one ended up preferring the HT750 over the Kenwoods. In the end - since she rents a room from and lives with me - I purchased one at cost from the business and donated it so that she could continue using one.

All the way to the right on the bottom row is one of my Kenwood TK-3180s, which I use both for the equestrian center’s GMRS net as well as the LMR radio net at my regular job. I was using one with the 16 key DTMF keypad (and the Tactical Features Set), but the owner of the equestrian center wants all radios labeled... while crew radios will tyically have only a number, the equestrian instructors wanted their names to be displayed on the radios they were issued, and I was instructed to do the same with mine. The running joke with it is, when we’re doing fundraising events (the equestrian program is a registered nonprofit), tours of the equestrian center, or other events, then husbands can try claiming they were only looking at the nametags on the radio to try remembering our names when their wives catch them staring at our asses. Since the DTMF keypad didn’t leave space for a label, I took one with the four button keypad and used that.

GMRS is regulated under Part 95E and requires a Part 95E radio. However, due to a lack of viable Part 95E radio options, many users have taken to using Part 90 LMR radios, as many of the UHF models cover GMRS frequencies. For example, the Motorola HT750 can be programmed with frequencies from 403  -470 MHz, and GMRS (as well as FRS) is a collection of 22 frequencies in the 462 and 467 MHz range. The use of Part 90 radios in GMRS plays fast and loose with the law, but acts in the spirit of the law, even if not the letter of it. The FCC has acknowledged the practice and has been leaving it alone, but they haven’t actually given approval to do that. To that end, we ensure that all radios are Part 90 (or Part 95E, as some employees have bought their own radios).

Which of course brings us to other problems in dealing with the radio net. A number of licensed GMRS users are quite upset about our use of a repeater on GMRS, especially given a lack of viable ones in the area. Some have identified the tower and have threatened to report us to the FCC (to which we tell them to go right ahead, as our use of that frequency is 100% on the up and up), some have tried to get us to make it a public use repeater (and typically suggest we use travel tone).

Then, of course, a number of the male employees - not content with the little GT-1 radios - always want something more “badass”. So I had one come up to me asking me if I could program his radio to the equestrian center net, and he hands me a BaoFeng UV-5R and told me the equestrian center owner gave her approval. Problem is, the FCC ID on that one - 2AJGM-UV5R - only shows Part 15 certification for 134 - 174 MHz and 400 - 470 MHz. So, outside of Part 97 (ham radio) use, it’s only legal as a receiver and scanner in those band splits. The ones which don’t have an FCC ID aren’t even legal for that. Had another one come to me with what looked like a Kenwood TK-3207... great 16 channel UHF radio, and the TK-2000/3000 series are becoming one of the mainstays of our rental service. When I removed the battery, it showed the model as TK-3000, but there was no FCC ID on it, so I asked him where he’d gotten it from. He said his brother used it for his business and had some extras. Just out of curiosity, I tried programming it with the KPG-137D programming software and was unable to. So I asked the brother where he’d gotten it from. He said he bought it off of Ebay. When I searched Ebay, I found a bunch of TK-2000/TK-3000 series radios from a seller out of China. So I installed KPG-137D on another computer and this time used the serial number for the UK/European version, and it successfully programmed the radio. All fine and dandy, but I gave it back to him and told him it’s not a legal radio for use in the US without an FCC ID being present.

I swear, I wear too many hats sometimes.