#going to stop using tags that suggest its adult work i guess

[draxoplasm]

Requests for more trans Astarion >:)

uncropped- cohost/twitter [draxoplasm]

[angelcent]

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ❤︎₊ ⊹ YUUTA OKKOTSU

summary. yuuta is having relationship troubles and he isn’t sure how to go about it. 

tags. established relationship, college au, mentions of blood, murder, yuuta pov, suggestive sex. 2k wc.

“Where were you? I stopped by the shop to bring you food, but they said you weren’t in today.”

The door squeaks softly on its hinges as you slowly close it behind you. Once it's is fully closed and locked in place, the doorway remains tensely silent. Yuuta watches as you turn to him fully with slightly widened eyes, lips opening and closing as you struggle to answer. There's nothing accusatory about his tone, but the way he holds your gaze with those dark eyes of his is making you hesitate.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he finds himself relishing in the upper hand that he has over you right now. Just this morning you had told him on your daily phone call that you’d be busy with work later tonight. That often meant you wouldn’t see each other until the next day, but you’ve been so distant lately that Yuuta’s been yearning for you more than usual.

He ached to see you, even if it was just picking up food from your favorite restaurant and dropping it off at the bookstore. It’s still packaged and bagged, now sitting cold on your kitchen counter. 

You weren’t at work when you said you’d be, and now you’re unsure of what to say. Though he's caught you in your lie before you even respond, Yuuta decides to file it away at the back of his mind. Benevolent as always with you , he gives you an out instead.

He smiles gently and takes your backpack from you to lessen the weight on your shoulders. “Did you get the days mixed up, love?”

“Y-yeah, I guess I did. Sorry, I was studying at the library.” you reply carefully, giving him a tentative kiss on the cheek as you step further into your apartment. “I’ve just been a little stressed about the midterm coming up.”

Like fresh morning air kissing your cheeks, Yuuta eases you into a sense of relaxation like the good boyfriend that he is. He caresses your cheek and goes to reheat your takeout for you while you take a shower—which is something you used to do before bed and not right after coming home. It may be minuscule to others, but he’s always been observant of your little details. It’s how he keeps you happy and something you’ve appreciated about him, as he’s always attentive to you and your needs.

It’s also the reason he’s noticed that it’s not the first lie he’s caught you in lately.

You’ve been a sneaky little thing; saying you’re someplace when you’re actually not, claiming you’ve gone to sleep yet he sees you’ve read his text at 2am—staying out later but not informing him where, no longer asking him to accompany you to the laundromat, and taking more showers than usual. 

Yuuta pretends as if everything is alright. Yet there’s doubt stirring in his gut.

He asks Megumi about it. Megumi says to leave you alone as you’re probably dealing with something and don’t want to be bothered.

He asks Maki afterward. She says to straight up confront you about what you’re hiding and talk it out like adults.

He even asks Professor Gojo, who tuts at the fragility of young love but doesn’t give an actual answer. Then again, he’s chronically single. What would he know?

It leaves him at a deadlock. Maki’s advice is the most sound, but so is Megumi’s. Yuuta doesn’t want to push your boundaries and force you to confide in him, even if he’s your boyfriend and it’s what he desperately wants. But he also believes that being honest to you about his doubts could clear up these inconsistencies. 

He opts for neither.

What’s funny is that it’s Professor Gojo’s nonsensical spiel that speaks to him most. Young love is fragile, and Yuuta is afraid of doing anything that will compromise your relationship. Almost to a fault, if he had to be honest with himself. A misstep could cause an explosive argument and drive you away from him. It’s an outlandish thought brought forth by his deep affection for you, as you’re not that type of person at all.

You’re level-headed, patient, sweet, and kind—the most beautiful girl Yuuta's ever laid eyes on. He can’t lose you. 

So what he does instead is he begins to follow you around. He watches as you enter the History building where your night class is, and remains outside for some time. He gives himself half an hour before he decides to go in, but the time mark doesn’t even pass before you walk out of the building. Through the side door. You’re not not carrying your backpack or books on you, and he wouldn’t have even noticed your dark clad figure if he hadn’t been intently watching.  

It’s easier to follow you through the dark night when you’re on campus as there’s still several other students roaming about and allowing him to blend in amongst them. Yet you eventually leave the university and take to the quiet streets. Yuuta curses under his breath and has to create a larger distance to remain undetected. It works in your favor when he eventually loses track of you and has to head back to his apartment. 

It’s not until much later when he's laying restlessly awake in bed and staring at your fake goodnight text that he wonders what you were even doing. He could’ve headed back to the History building and waited for you or asked your classmates where you were, but he told his own lie to even follow you in the first place; that he was spending the night at Toge's.

What an elusive bunny you were turning out to be. It only made Yuuta's desire for you burn even deeper, branding his soul as yours.

While he’d love to follow your every move, he also has classes, a job he can't miss, and is a teacher's assistant to a pretentious man with keen attention to detail. I’m following my girlfriend around to find out what she’s hiding, was not a valid excuse. Not even Professor Geto would accept it. As charming as he is, his mentor also has no lovers so he wouldn’t understand.

It’s not until weeks later on a sunny weekend that he finally has you all to himself. The two of you are having breakfast at a small diner, and his eyes are boring into the chunky TV mounted on the wall while you’re digging into your french toast beside him in the leather booth. He’s gratefully sipping on his black coffee and hoping it revitalizes his will to live, as he’s lost sleep over you ever since that first night he lost track of you. 

His hair is messier than usual and there’s dark circles under his eyes, which you sweetly fuss over and attempt to kiss away as if you’re not the reason for it. But you don’t know this, and Yuuta won’t place that guilt on your shoulders, so he basks in your affection and reassures you that he’s fine. The exhaustion is seeping deep into his shoulder blades as he continues to watch the news when his eyes suddenly widen at the screen. 

“Y/N, look.” he shakes your shoulder gently, and turns to you in a frenzy. The buzz of conversation in the diner has gone down suddenly, someone turning up the volume on the TV. “It’s—”

His teeth instinctively bite down, and a burst of sweetness lands on his tongue from the cherry you popped into his mouth. He’s treated to the delightful sight of you laughing at his surprise, and then you take another cherry from your dish and place it between your teeth. You look at him expectantly with the fruit still visible to him, and it makes his cheeks heat up.

He knows what you want. 

Yuuta hesitantly looks around the restaurant and finds that the other patrons are paying you two no mind, most are looking in the direction of the TV. Once he’s reassured there’s no eyes on you in your small booth, he leans down and takes the cherry from your lips with his own. The red juice splits in half between the two of you and drips messily down your chins, but you both don’t care. 

He chuckles into your mouth, cupping your jaw as you swap the cherry in a deeply sensual kiss. It feels like ages since he’s laughed and trades kisses with you, so he’s bolder than usual, his previous bashfulness at PDA gone. He sucks on the juice from your tongue and curls his other palm into your waist, pulling you flush against him.

The warmth of your body spurs him on, and he can't help but nibble on your lower lip. You whimper and gasp his name into his mouth—yuuta—your delicate hands grasping at his white button up. That familiar fire lights within him—hungry and possessive—that drives Yuuta to madness. That dizzying, heady madness driven by love.

You spend the entire day at his apartment, not once leaving the bedroom. 

Yuuta thought that spending an entire day worshiping your naked body and painting your insides over and over with his sticky load—marking his territory—would ease his mind over what you’re hiding, but it doesn’t. Because it continues on, and Yuuta finds himself stuck on a cycle. He moves his entire schedule to have an opening, he follows you, and he loses track of you every single time. 

He even begins to call you every night to make sure that you’re getting home safe, as things have been shady around town. He offers to walk you home, even if his class schedule conflicts with yours and his job is on the other side of town. But you stubbornly decline, not wanting to impose on his already busy schedule.

The thing is, Yuuta is also stubborn. He’s tenacious once determined, something that Professor Geto says will get him far in life. So, he calls out of work and follows you closer than he has so far. Even when he’s sure he’ll find you where he thinks, he rounds the corner to the parking lot behind an abandoned warehouse after minutes of silence and finds it empty of you. He’s greeted by the cold night air and the metallic smell of blood. 

Panic shoots up his body and has him running further until he reaches the end of the lot and his white sneakers almost step on a puddle of blood. It glistens dark under the moonlight, and it has Yuuta’s hands shaking as his eyes follow the small trail. It leads him to a large dumpster; rusty from years without use. His heart is beating out of his ears as he looks down into the dark abyss.

But it’s not you that he finds. 

Immediately, he sighs in relief and places a palm over his pounding chest before the realization kicks in. Because while it isn’t you, he recognizes who it is.

Well, he actually doesn’t know who he is.

It’s the man who bumped his shoulder and tried to drunkenly start a fight with him one night when the two of you were walking to the movies after a dinner date. Yuuta was going to let it go and get you out of there as your safety was his only priority, but the man backhanded him while slurring obscenities. Still, he remained calm even as he flipped the man’s entire weight until he landed flat on the ground with a knee to his chest. The man’s friends nervously apologized over and over, but Yuuta only had eyes for you. Instead of responding to the blubbering idiots, he tenderly asked if you were okay and got off of the man when you nodded.

He got up, took your smaller hand in his, and never looked back. He really thought it was the end of that, but here was the man now. Rotting in a dumpster. The sight stunned him to his spot, and with shaky hands, he grabbed his phone and called you.

Suddenly, that morning at the diner rings in his head like an alarm. Like a sirens song, he had been so charmed by your flirtations that the news headlines were pushed to the back of his mind. It was no coincidence, then.

Yuuta anticipates your voicemail after several rings when you finally answer. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart. Where are you?” he asks lightly, eyeing the corpse. The limbs are bent out of shape, grotesque in the way it was forced to fit inside the small space.

“I’m—” you paused, and it’s only then that Yuuta could hear you catching your breath. He turns and sees a small alleyway beside him as a side exit to this lot. “I’m walking home from work. What’s up?”

“It’s so late,” Yuuta sighs, absently checking the outsoles of his sneakers for any blood. Both are good. “You should’ve at least called me. I’m worried about you being out right now. You know, I heard that Miss Ito was killed recently.”

You click your tongue. “Ah, was she? That’s so scary.”

But you didn’t sound scared at all.

Why would you? Miss Ito was the bartender at the local music venue who shamelessly flirted with Yuuta, continuously doing so even when you were there. She was a few years older and always giving him and only him free drinks, all while “playfully” trying to paint you as an immature girl who can’t keep up with him. 

“Mhm, it is.” Yuuta doesn’t know a lick of what murdering someone entails, but he assumes it’s tiring. He can hear it in your lovely voice and he doesn’t want to add to it. “Call me back when you’re home, alright? I miss falling asleep with you.”

Your voice softens. “I do too, Yuuta. I’ll call you right when I get there. I love you so so much, you have no idea.”

Yuuta thinks he knows how much, if the stab wound right in the man’s neck is anything to go by.

“I love you too.” he smiles, sending you a little kiss before the call ends.

He remains standing for a few seconds before crouching down and opening up a private tab on his phone. He learns how to scrub blood and footprints off of asphalt and other various methods to clean up traces. The box of rubber gloves under your bathroom sink flashes in his mind and he knows that his girl is smart. 

The pride that blooms in Yuuta's chest should concern him, but he welcomes it like an old friend.

Because this isn’t the first person you’ve killed. After that night, he begins to look deeper into other deaths in the area and the timeframe aligns with all the other times that you’ve disappeared from him. Some kills are random while others are personal—mainly those who have wronged him in the slightest way.

All this time Yuuta was afraid of losing you, but you’ve been so devoted to him the entire time. So he devotes himself right back to you just as he’s always done. He appears when you leave after a fresh kill and cleans up any little slip ups you may have missed, scrubbing away anything that can trace back to you. He’s diligent, like a guardian angel always at your shoulder.

He even catches you in the act one night. His dark eyes widen at the sights and sounds, but his heart beats only for you. He pays no mind to the dying person and worries for your aching body. Already, he’s planning to draw a bath for you and slip in behind you so he can scrub your back and wash your hair.

The thing is, Yuuta understands that what’s happening isn’t right. He knows that what you’re doing is vile and disgusting and should be punished. But he also understands that he just can’t let that happen.

You’re his sweet girl who’s soft and has given him a home in your heart. The girl who wraps him in her arms when he can’t sleep and soothes him until he does. The one who patiently allowed him to grieve over his loss and never judged him for obsessing over a childhood love. 

Yuuta knows now that you love every part of him, and he’ll love every part of you as well. He’ll uplift you and strive to be the best future husband that he can be, and he’ll bury every single body you splatter on the ground. 

@yutaleks @gojoath just wanted to tag the yuutaists. ❤︎ notes. this is a re-upload from my old account, almost two years ago? I tweaked it just a bit, hope you enjoyed!

[fific7]

Fake or Fortune

For @omgrachwrites 1K Follower Celebration - congratulations!

AU: Fake Relationship

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: This does not follow canon, it takes place in my Alternative S1 Punisher Universe, with Arrogant!Billy in attendance.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, slightly questionable consent, some dom/sub interaction, oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Swearing and drinking.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My Photo Edit)

Karen put a large G&T down in front of you, accompanied by a sympathetic look. You picked it up and took a large sip, sighing as you put it back down again.

“I give up, Karen. No matter what I do, without fail I either pick the wrong guy or else think everything’s fine, and then boom - it isn’t.”

This was a commiseration drinking session, which Karen had suggested after she’d noticed you moping around the office. You both worked at the same big newspaper but in different departments, and became good friends after spending numerous lunchtimes together in the staff restaurant.

“What happened this time?” she asked, then winced as she realised maybe that wasn’t the most tactful way of putting things. “I mean, I thought you and David were getting on really well?” You took a larger gulp of your drink, “Well, that’s the thing - so did I. Until I got the “it’s not you, it’s me” talk on Saturday.” You’d been seeing this guy from your Digital News Content section for a few months, and you’d really thought everything had been on track.

Karen sighed, “Oh lord, not that old pile of bullshit.” You nodded, “Yeah, right. I tried to pin him down to exactly what the problem was, but I guess it was just me, when it all came down to it. In fact, I saw him chatting up a girl from Accounts yesterday so he’s already moved on to pastures new. That didn’t take long, did it? Or maybe he’d already moved on but didn’t have the balls to tell me.”

“Look, I’m meeting up with Frank on Friday night for a drink...” her cheeks pinked up, and you smiled at her obvious pleasure in that thought, “....so why don’t you come along? He mentioned one of his friends might tag along.” You held up a hand, “Oh no! No! I’m not being set up.” She shook her head, “It’s not a set-up, I swear. They’ve got a little....issue.... with Homeland and we’re going to talk about it.”

You knew she’d recently met this ex-Marine called Frank when - in her role as investigative reporter - she’d been digging into some big CIA scandal. When was there not a scandal about the CIA, you thought. You knew she’d met him several times over the past couple of weeks and had detected a more-than-just-business interest in him. “Oh, so.... strictly business, then?” you teased. She shifted in her seat, “Well, mainly.... we’ve also been talking about more personal stuff.” “Uh-huh,” you nodded, smirking, “Karen fancies Frank, Karen fancies Frank!” you sang, while she batted your arm and gave an embarrassed laugh.

“Oh shut up, you,” she said, “...are you coming along or not?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

And that’s why you found yourself sitting in a neighbourhood bar with Karen on Friday night, feeling quite nervous for some reason. Probably because Karen was fidgeting like hell next to you, and you were picking up on her nervous energy. You smiled over at her, “So you really like this guy, huh?” “No!”she denied, then as you raised an eyebrow at her, “Well... okay, yes I do like him. He’s so sweet.” Her eyes widened as she spoke, catching sight of two approaching figures, “Oh! Here he comes.” A big bear of a man came up to your table, smiling broadly at Karen and then including you in the smile as he stopped beside you. “Hey, Karen,” he greeted her, and she beamed back at him. “Hey, Frank,” and then she introduced you to him. His friend, who’d been partially blocked from your sight by Frank’s bulk, moved out from behind him and said ‘Hi - I’m Billy Russo,’ and shook your hand as he did so. “Nice ta meet ya,” said Frank, also shaking your hand and sitting down in the booth next to Karen.

The man who’d just introduced himself as Billy slid in next to you, and you tried not to stare. He was hot. Like, really hot. Dressed in a smart suit and overcoat, he really didn’t look like an ex-Marine, but Karen had told you that both Frank and his friend were ex-service, and that the friend had opened up a security firm called Anvil when he left the Marines. His handsome face turned towards you, and two very dark eyes looked into yours, “So.... you’re a friend of Karen’s?” You nodded, “Yeah, we just worked together to start with but now we’re besties.” “You a reporter too?” “Nah, I’m a lowly sub-editor on the news desk.” A sudden thought occurred to you, “Oh... and just to reassure you, this isn’t a set-up... you and me, I mean.” He smirked, and you found yourself staring at his lush brushed-back hair and sculpted jaw with its light beard. “Would it have been a big problem if it had been?” he was saying to you, and you shook yourself out of your little trance.

“No, I guess not...” you replied, laughing nervously, “...but I just wanted to get it out there.” He looked you over appraisingly, “Well, I wouldn’t have been disappointed at all,” the smirk got bigger, “....so if you change your mind, just let me know.” This left you speechless but he was still looking at you, asking, “Whaddya want to drink? First round’s on me,” before turning his gaze to the others.

Several beers later, you were sitting listening to the other three talking about a lot of indecipherable nonsense (from your point of view), and you were beginning to get antsy. “Karen, I’m going to head off,” you said in a break in the conversation and she looked slightly guilty, “Oh sorry... we’ve been going on about this for ages.” You shrugged, “It’s fine, Karen, honestly. I’ll see you Monday, okay? Have a great weekend.” You turned to the guys, “You too, and thanks for the drinks,” and made to move out of the booth. But Billy didn’t move. “See you home?” he questioned you, and you saw small smiles on both Karen and Frank’s faces. “Yeah, okay,” you nodded, and then he moved, standing aside as you slid out of the booth. As you headed to the door through the crowd of people, you felt his arm snaking around your lower back. Oooh, very confident, you thought. You’d marked him out as a player as soon as you’d set eyes on him.

“Sorry about the boring shop talk,” he said as you both hit the street, “....me and Frankie’ve got some problems with Homeland right now.” “That doesn’t sound good,” you said as you found yourself being guided around the corner from the bar. “Oh, I was going to take the subway,” you protested, but he shook his head, “This time on a Friday night? Nah.” He pointed towards a rather flashy-looking car parked in the street, “Got the car with me so I’ll take you home. I only had one beer, case you didn’t notice.” “I didn’t,” you admitted, “I thought you were sinking beers like the rest of us.” He gave a low laugh, “I was a sniper in the service, so I like to be aware of my surroundings at all times.” A little frisson ran through you, this guy was quite dangerous, you could tell. As you reached the car, he held the passenger door open for you and you climbed in, trying to be as elegant as possible although you weren’t sure you quite achieved that.

As he started the engine and moved the car out into the flow of traffic, he asked, “So what made you come along tonight if it wasn’t a set-up?” “I was bored. I just split up with my boyfriend of a few months so...” you shrugged. You heard a chuckle, “His loss.” “I don’t think that’s what he thought,” you replied, with a self-deprecating laugh. “Well, it’s true,” said Billy, “...believe me. He must be mad to give you up.” “You silver-tongued charmer,” you said back to him, and again you heard his deep chuckle.

“Seriously, it’s my gain. Look, this might seem a bit of an odd request seein’ as how we’ve only just met...” he began, looking across at you as he pulled up outside your apartment block, “....but you’d be doin’ me a big favour. How ‘bout you come along to this charity event I gotta go to next week? As my ‘plus one’?” You hesitated, and he carried on, “No strings, I promise. Just come along as my girlfriend and be on my arm all night. Help me ward off the attentions of someone I’d rather avoid.” You scoffed, “Fake dating? Really?!”

Much to your surprise, you found yourself walking into your building a few minutes later having just agreed to go to this event with Billy. He’d looked pleased, thanking you for saying yes. And you’d also been on the receiving end of a surprise kiss from him. He’d suddenly leant in, slid his big hand around the back of your neck and pulled you in, his mouth finding yours as he did. The kiss had been short but very sexy and you were still tingling from the after-effects.

He’d laughed at your look of total surprise, and wished you sweet dreams. You’d better be careful, warned your internal guardian angel, he said ‘No Strings’.... remember? So don’t go getting all invested in this guy. He’s a player.... for sure.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy and you had swapped numbers, and the following morning you were pleasantly surprised to get a text asking if you could meet him later that day. Intrigued, you texted back saying you didn’t have any other plans but why did he need to meet up? He came back saying he’d had an idea to help out with the event next week, and said he could pick you up. Feeling like you could be making a big mistake, you agreed so he said he’d be at your place around two.

You made sure you dressed casually. Not having any idea where you were going, but sure it wouldn’t be a date as such, you just chose a shirt and jeans with some suede ankle boots. When Billy texted you to say he was parked outside, you left your apartment and locked up, feeling a spark of excitement run through you as you did. “This is not a date, this is not a date, this is not a date!” you chanted in your head as you went downstairs. Billy, you saw with relief, was also dressed casually in jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket and combat boots. He gave you a big grin as you got in the car, the luxurious leather aroma of the interior filling your nostrils. “What make of car is this?” you asked, being an “it’s a black one” kind of girl. He gave you what could only be described as a smug smile, “Rolls Royce Wraith, sweetheart,” he answered. “Oh, okay,” you said, “....expensive, I take it?” “Very.” “Surprised you park it on the street the way you do then,” you shrugged, and he burst out laughing. “Is it one of those so-called penis extensions?” you asked next, and Billy nearly choked he was laughing so hard.

“Firstly, I take it that means you aren’t particularly impressed,” he gasped, getting his breath back after his laughing fit, “...and secondly, no darlin’, it definitely isn’t one of those ‘penis extensions‘ as you put it. Got no need for one-a those.” You returned his smirk, “Really? Well, I don’t care what car a guy drives,” you said firmly, “...that’s got nothing to do with what he’s like.” He glanced across at you as he swung the car into one of the downtown underground car parks. “And what do you think I’m like?” You looked at his profile as he concentrated on parking the big car in a corner space, “Mmmm... I think you’ve had a hard upbringing and now you’re making up for it. Big time.”

Billy switched the engine off and turned to stare at you, the dark eyes drilling into yours with an intensity you hadn’t been expecting. “Wow,” said Billy, “....you sure you’re not one-a these psychoanalysts or somethin’?” “Definitely,” you replied. “Well, you sure sound like you’ve been analysing me, sweetheart,” he said. You didn’t know him well enough to gauge his mood, and he carried on, “I mean, you got all that from meetin’ me last night and just now?” You nodded, saying neutrally, “I’m just speculating of course... but the expensive suits, the car, and I bet a big flashy apartment too, it just says ‘I can afford this now and I’m gonna enjoy it’ to me.” You were relieved to hear a chuckle as you’d been worried you’d really offended him. “Spot on,” he said, “...yeah, you’re spot on. I think you’re maybe in the wrong business.” You decided to change the subject, “So... where are we going, Billy?” “You’ll see in a minute,” he grinned, “....c’mon, let’s go sweetheart.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Minutes later, you were standing outside one of the expensive and trendy boutiques in the area. Billy’s hand went under your elbow and he steered you inside. “Billy... what’s going on?” He nodded to one of the staff who started making her way over to the two of you. “Look, it was my bright idea to drag you along to this thing, so the least I can do is treat you to a new outfit.” You were shaking your head before he’d stopped speaking, “Oh no, no... I can’t let you do that!” He was nodding back at you - it must’ve looked quite comical to the store assistant, “Oh yes, you will - I insist.” He turned to the woman, “Please can you help my girlfriend pick out an outfit for a formal event?” And before you could say anything else, he’d wandered over to a seating area near the changing rooms and seated himself in a comfortable armchair. “I’ll be right here, sweets,” he said, beaming at you. Girlfriend indeed, you thought.

The store assistant looked expectantly at you and you nodded hesitantly at her, so she led you over to some rails filled with lots of beautiful dresses. “How nice of your boyfriend to buy you a whole new outfit,” she commented, beginning to slide the dresses back and forth along the rail looking for a selection for you, “He’s very charming,” she continued, admiringly. “Yes, isn’t he,” you said between gritted teeth. Truthfully, you were feeling as if you were out shopping with your sugar daddy. But you had to admit that your bank account would’ve been protesting loudly if you’d had to make the purchase yourself, and you definitely would’ve had to buy something new as nothing in your wardrobe was even remotely suitable for a formal event. And he was right, this was all his bright idea. So you’d just suck it up, you thought, however reluctantly.

Eventually the assistant had several dresses folded over her arm for you to try on, and you sailed past Billy to the changing rooms without as much as a glance at him. But you just knew he was staring at you as disappeared behind the curtain.

After twenty minutes of struggling in and out of the various dresses, you had to admit that the assistant had made some good choices. There were three that you really liked, and you finally chose a midnight blue silky sheath of mid-thigh length, an asymmetric one-shoulder-strap neckline and a swirl of sequins diagonally across it from neck to hem. It was tight-fitting but didn’t show off an excessive amount of skin - you didn’t want to have it all out there on show after all.

The assistant had also brought several pairs of shoes to you once you’d chosen your dress, and you picked out a pair of matching delicate strappy sandals. Pleased with your choices, you put your own clothes back on and went out to find Billy. He looked up from his phone as you exited the changing room, a disappointed look on his face, “What.... no catwalk show for your boyfriend?” You leant down and whispered, “Okay, you’re laying it on a bit thick, Russo,” to which he grinned, gently took hold of your chin and softly kissed you. “You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he smirked. Then a horrible thought occurred to you, “Billy!” you whispered forcefully. He looked a bit nervously at you, “What?” “There was no price tag on that dress or the shoes either!” He waved a hand at you, “Yeah? That’s okay, just leave it to me.” “No! That’s not on. I’m going to ask her what the price is.” He jumped up out of the armchair, “Nah, nah! Told ya, it was my idea you come along so just let me do this, okay?”

He set off without further delay to the cash desk, while you reluctantly waited in the seating area. Not particularly comfortable with the idea of him buying you an outfit, you decided that you’d offer to buy him dinner to kind of offset his no doubt hefty bill for the dress purchase. He came back over to you a few moments later carrying a large box in one of the boutique’s carrier bags which he handed to you with a grin. “She’d already boxed it before I could see it so it’s still gonna be a surprise when I see it on the night.” You smirked back, you were quite pleased about that. “Billy, let me buy you dinner as a thank you for the dress.” “Okay, I won’t say no to a free dinner,” he grinned, “...where d’ya wanna go?” You mentally reviewed your bank balance and named a mid-priced restaurant close by.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After a pleasant couple of hours chatting over dinner, Billy drove you home. Debating how to end the night, you came up with what you felt was a decent plan. Not that you were trying to extend the evening of course. That would be just plain stupid as the ‘relationship’ was all a big fake. Remember? your brain asked you. “You know Billy, we haven’t prepared a back story yet, have we?” you said as he drew up outside your place. “A back story?” “Yeah. I mean, if this person you’re trying to avoid happens to ask us - together or separately - about our relationship, we need to be singing from the same songsheet, don’t we?” He looked thoughtful, “Uh yeah, you’ve got a point there.” “OK, well how about you come in for a glass of wine or a coffee and we can get that sorted now?” A devilish smirk appeared, “Plannin’ to ravish me, sweetheart?”

You felt your face heat up with a sudden blush, “No!! Purely to agree on the back story. But hey - we can just text about it if you’d prefer!” Embarrassed, you grabbed your bags, opened the car door and began to get out, but Billy grabbed your arm, “Hey, hey, sweetheart - I’m just kiddin’. Hold on an’ I’ll park up. We can walk up together.” You huffed slightly and closed the car door again, while Billy looked around for a parking space. Once parked, the two of you went up to your apartment and you unlocked the door, waving him inside and over to the sofa while you stashed the bags and headed to the kitchen area. “What would you like? Wine, beer or coffee?” “I’d better just have a coffee,” he said, “...don’t wanna get drunk and pass out in your apartment. Not a good look.” “I don’t see you as a ‘getting drunk’ kinda guy, Billy. You already told me you like to be aware of your surroundings.” He laughed, “You’re right, I don’t make a habit of gettin’ wasted.”

So you switched on your coffee machine and asked what kind of coffee he’d like, holding up a handful of different capsules. He strolled over to you, draping his leather jacket over the back of one of the high stools at your breakfast bar as he reached you. He leaned down slightly and looked at the selection you had in your hand, and you were suddenly very aware of the scent of his aftershave. “Whattya got there, then?” You took his hand and dumped them all in it, saying, “I’m just gonna fill up the water jug while you decide,” and moving swiftly away from him. You were finding it very difficult indeed to ignore the magnetic attraction he was exerting over you, but you really had to try harder as you were only going to end up getting hurt otherwise. He held out a capsule toward you, “Americano’s fine,” he said.

The two cups of coffee made a few moments later, you led him back over to the sofa and you both sat down at opposite ends. “Okayyyy,” said Billy, “....back story then?” You nodded, “Yeah. Nothing too fancy as the less details we have to remember the better.” “Good idea. We should probably add in some truth too. So.... we met through Karen & Frank?” “Yes, that’s a good start. Where did we meet and how long have we been seeing each other?” “Neighbourhood bar, and a coupla months?” “Okay, yeah. Actually is that about it? That was easier than I thought! Or...what else might they ask? Who is this person you’re avoiding - are they gonna be really nosy?” Billy snorted, “Oh yeah! Her name’s Caroline, a spoilt rich bitch. Her father owns a tech company and he supplies some of our equipment. She came along to one of the meetings recently and now she’s stalking me.” You grinned, “And that’s a problem for you? I would’ve thought you’d quite enjoy that, Billy.”

He grinned back, “Are you sayin’ I’m a player or somethin’?” “Well, aren’t you? I’m kinda getting that vibe.” Now he laughed out loud, “Maybe. But I like doin’ the chasing, sweetheart, not the other way round. If she ever got hold-a me, I’d never get outta her clutches.” “What - you wouldn’t? Not much of an ex-Marine then, are you?” He rolled his eyes, “Seriously, this woman’s so clingy she’d attach herself to me like a limpet mine. And I don’t like violence against women so I’d be in a difficult situation. Plus the main thing’s the business link with her daddy. His stuff’s good, I wouldn’t wanna have to replace him as a supplier. So you see, you’re doing me a solid here.” “When you say stalking you, do you mean literally?” “Well, like turning up at Anvil all the time to ‘check on the equipment’ and shit like that.” “So not outside the office then? I’m just thinking along the lines of her not seeing us around together before the event if she’s around you outside business hours. She might not buy it.” “As far as I know, only in office hours.”

“As far as you know? That’s not exactly reassuring if she’s as much of a stalker as you say she is.” He laughed, “No, I’m sure she’s not around apart from that.” “Okay, well is there anything else you can think of that she might ask?” He gave you a sly grin, “If we’ve slept together.” You got up and took your empty cup over to the kitchen sink, “Uh-huh.... well she can ask! We’ll just have to lie, won’t we?” You turned round only to find Billy invading your personal space again, and you moved back slightly in surprise. He followed, crowding you against the counter, dark eyes gazing into yours, “Uh... we don’t have to lie.” You leaned further back, your brain yelling ‘don’t give in to him!’ at you. “Billy... you suggested this whole thing and you also said ‘no strings’, remember? Well, if we did that... that would be strings, don’t you agree?” He reached round you and put his cup in the sink too, “Yeah, I guess so. Just thought we could make things look a little more.... authentic, y’know?” He turned and grabbed his jacket off the back of the stool, but then took you by surprise again by swooping in for a long kiss, pulling you against his body and his big hand sliding around the back of your neck. You pulled away, trying to catch your breath.

Those espresso-coloured eyes were gazing into yours, a lazy grin on his face. “Hey, you’ll need to get less jumpy when I do that else she’s definitely not gonna buy it.” He stood back from you, shrugging into his jacket, “Might need a bit more practice, sweetheart,” he smirked, “....so how about we meet up again tomorrow? We can learn a bit more about each other, as well as you getting more comfortable when I get physical with you,” and wiggled his eyebrows at you. Against your better judgement, you agreed and so he said he’d pick you up at four the next day.

Once he’d gone, you poured yourself a stiff brandy. You couldn’t deny you wanted to spend more time with him, much as you knew you were setting yourself up for a fall. Really... just what the hell did you think you were doing?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was thinking the very same thing to himself as he drove away. He was enjoying those kisses way too much. But he was the one who’d suggested this whole fake relationship thing, and definitely with ‘no strings’. Because that was the Russo Way.

He’d better get his head back on straight, and stop thinking about the gorgeous woman in the apartment back there as anything other than a way to ditch the very irritating Caroline.

He also got the distinct feeling she’d marked him out as a player and wouldn’t want to get involved with him anyhow. Well, he was a player and he couldn’t deny that. Wasn’t sure he could ever see himself as a one-woman man. Caroline was attractive enough and in the normal way of things, he’d’ve taken her out maybe a couple of times, fucked and then forgotten her. But her father and Billy’s business relationship complicated things somewhat.

So yeah, he’d make sure she saw him with a lovely woman on his arm at the gala, kiss (and maybe fuck if he got lucky) the lovely woman at the end of the night and move right along. Apart from anything else, the fact that she was Karen’s friend complicated things way beyond what he wanted to get involved in, because he couldn’t afford to upset either her or her friend, Frankie’d kill him if he did.

Definitely better stick with the Russo Way. It had never failed him before, had it?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The next day, Billy glided the car to a stop outside her apartment block at 4 o’clock as promised, dropping her a quick text to announce his arrival. Soon, he saw her figure walking out of the main door and making her way towards him.

Damn! Mmm, she was looking good. Little pink sundress, short denim jacket, bare legs and low wedge pink sandals. Yeah, really cute. Smart and funny too. And sexy, of course. Very sexy. Totally fuckable. Completely and utterly fuckable. Woah - stop that Russo! Right now!

All these thoughts ran through his head in the 10 seconds it took her to reach the car.

He leant over and pushed open the passenger door for her, “Hi sweetheart.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d noticed Billy’s eyes running over you as you went up to the car, and then spotted his tongue making a swift trip over his bottom lip as he greeted you. You got the feeling he was looking at you like you were a snack to be consumed. Determined to resist how attracted you felt to him, you hopped into the car and said Hi back. Billy’s big hand landed on your thigh as you fastened your seat belt, his long fingers sliding upwards. Batting them away, you continued clipping yourself in and he laughed, leaning across and pulling you to him, kissing you long and slow. Breaking apart, he said, “Remember we gotta practice, sweetheart,” grinning at you. “Mmmhuh,” you nodded, “I remember you saying that.” “Just relax! Get comfortable with me touchin’ and kissin’ you. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend after all.” “Mmmhuh,” you said again, and once more his hand found its way onto your thigh and began stroking, eventually inching upwards again.

This time, you decided to stay still, thinking that yes, you had better get comfortable with this if this whole stupid fake relationship thing was going to work. But when his hand parted your legs and one long slim finger swiftly made its way inside your panties and - without further warning - actually inside you, you jumped like a startled deer and squirmed away from him. “Billy!” you protested loudly, but he merely smirked victoriously at you and pushed a second finger inside you to join its cousin. You shoved at his resistant arm, “Stop it!” His mouth found yours and he began kissing you as his fingers moved steadily in and out of you then his thumb was on your clit, and he began massaging firmly. “Sssshhh, sweetheart, we’re just messin’ around,” you heard his low voice in your ear, “...this is high school stuff.” “But I didn’t say you could do this to me!” you snarled, trying to ignore how good he was making you feel, and you felt his fingers leave you. He sat back in his car seat, taking a tissue out of his jacket pocket and slowly wiping his fingers, looking across at you all the while with a contemplative look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, but not sounding regretful at all, “I didn’t think you’d mind. Thought it’d loosen you up a bit like we said.” He smirked at you, “You can’t deny I got you wet, and I know you’re attracted to me. Thought you’d enjoy it.” Your mouth dropped open, “You arrogant fucker!” you exclaimed, “You know what, you can take your fake dating shit and shove it where the sun doesn’t fucking shine!” You jumped out of the car, slamming the door with an almighty bang behind you. Stomping back up to your apartment, you opened your front door and slammed it behind you too, angrily throwing your bag onto the sofa as you passed on your way to the kitchen. You took off your jacket and threw it onto a high stool, furious enough to take a bottle of gin out of the cupboard and grab a clean glass from the dishwasher. You were just taking a bottle of tonic water out of the fridge when there was a knock at your door.

Okay, well that was either your annoying across-the-hall neighbour... who complained about anything and everything... here to moan about the door-slamming, or else it was Billy. Whoever was on the other side of the door was going to be greeted by your frowning face, and you really didn’t give a shit which one it was. You dramatically swung open the door, and it was in fact Billy Russo who was confronted by your unhappy visage. He immediately held up his hands in a placatory gesture. “Look, I am really, truly, sorry. I ... can I come in and explain?” You turned on your heel and walked back to the kitchen, leaving him to close the door behind him and follow in your footsteps. “Want a drink?” He nodded, “I’d love a beer if you’ve got one, please.” You took a bottle of beer out of the fridge and handed it to him, then got a bottle top remover for him out of one of your drawers.

He popped off the cap then took a long swig, as he watched you prepare a G&T for yourself. You also took a big sip then leant back against the counter and regarded him with a steely gaze. “You said you wanted to explain.” He took another gulp of beer and began, “I.... look, I’m so sorry okay? I totally misread the situation.” Sipping your gin, you said, “I’ll say you did, Billy! I get the distinct impression you mistook me for one of the easy lays you no doubt pick up in bars. Is that how you treat your one-and-done’s, huh? Well, don’t try that shit with me, okay?” He looked over at you shamefaced and shrugged, “Uhhh...I ..uhh.. yeah, I guess I did.... look, I really am sorry, sweetheart. I can’t apologise enough, and I really didn’t mean to upset you.” You took another big hit of your gin, slightly - but only very slightly - mollified. “And as for your comment that I’m attracted to you...!!!” Momentarily you were speechless, unsure what you wanted to say or how to put it. Mainly because it was the truth, you acknowledged to yourself.

Before you could say anything, Billy held up his hands again, “I’m incredibly embarrassed about saying that. Really crass. And arrogant, as you said.” You noticed that his face had pinked up somewhat. “In fact just forget I said it,” he carried on. “Bit late for that now isn’t it! Did you say it because you’re used to women falling at your feet, Billy?”

He looked down at the beer bottle in his hand, waggling it back and forward before saying, “Yeah. If I’m honest, I don’t usually haveta try too hard.” His eyes met yours, “And if I’m bein’ even more honest, gotta admit I’m attracted to you. Like, really attracted. So, yeah - I was hoping for something more than just going to the charity event with you.”

You drew in a big breath. What? What did he just say to you? No. You mentally shook your head, and then realised you were actually shaking it. “Billy.... you’re a player, that much is blatantly obvious. Would you know what a relationship is if it came up and bit you on the ass? Something tells me you wouldn’t.” He had the grace to look guilty. You continued, “So here’s what we’ll do. If you still need me to come along to the gala, then I’ll do that. And then we’ll go back to being strangers. Okay?”

He twirled his beer bottle between his long fingers, and shrugged, “Okay, sweetheart. M’happy you’re still gonna help me out. But can’t we at least be friends afterwards? Reckon Karen ‘n Frank’re gonna be seeing a lot of each other so we’ll probably keep bumping into each other.” Your face softened into a smile, “Yeah, they like each other don’t they? You’re right, we probably will be spending some time together because of those two. Okay... friends, then.”

He smiled at you, approaching warily and sliding his hand round to the back of your head and up into your hair, pulling you closer. “M’gonna kiss you, s’that okay?” but being Billy, didn’t wait for your reply. His lips met yours in a gentler kiss than earlier, his fingers stroking the back of your neck. He moved his hips against yours, and you knew he’d done this so you’d feel his erection against your body. You moved sideways and pulled away from him, why did he have to make you breathless when you just wanted to be cool, calm and collected around him? He looked a bit crestfallen, but recovered swiftly and asked, “How about we order in some food and just spend some quality time together?” You sighed, “Okay, Billy, let’s do that. But no more groping or anything, okay?” He nodded, looking serious and miming a cross over his heart, “Promise.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You pushed the pizza box away from you, “God, I’m stuffed.” Billy picked up his beer bottle and drank, giving a small delicate burp as he did so, “Me too.” Reaching over, he picked up the remote and began flicking through Netflix, “Whaddya wanna watch next?” he asked. “Mmmm, you pick a movie. But not one about war.” He laughed, “Oh don’t worry, I never watch war films, had enough-a that in real life.” Lying back and letting out a deep breath, you said apologetically, “I bet you did. Sorry.” Shrugging, he also lay back, his head turning towards you, “S’okay. We can talk about it sometime if you like. And about my less-than-perfect childhood. And some of my more recent fuck-ups.” He gave a bitter laugh, “I’m a fuckin’ train wreck, sweetheart - you’ve made the right decision, best you don’t get involved with me.” His eyes looked big and a bit glossy, and before you could help yourself you’d laid your hand on his shoulder, “I’m sure you’re not that bad, Billy.” He turned away from you, looking at the TV before selecting a sci-fi fantasy movie, “Oh believe me, I am,” he said in a low voice.

You shifted a bit closer to him on the sofa, “Don’t be so down on yourself, Billy. You’ve achieved a lot of things... got your own company, fancy car, fine suits, lots of money, prestige.” He grinned at you, “But all that doesn’t matter to you, does it?” You shook your head, “No, but they’re still achievements to be proud of.” His head dropped and some locks of hair fell over his forehead. “Thank you,” he mumbled, and you watched as your hand went of its own accord to his face and stroked the errant hair back off his forehead. His head swivelled towards you, dark eyes gazing into yours; he took hold of your arms and drew you against his chest. “Can we snuggle?” he asked you, then wrapped his arms right around you, before lying down and swinging his long legs up onto the sofa, pulling you with him. You snorted out a laugh, “Snuggle? That doesn’t exactly fit with your ex-soldier or current playboy personas!” “Aw, c’mon sweetheart, gimme a break - I’m tryin’ to be a well-behaved boy here!” You snuggled into his chest a bit, “Okay, but remember - no wandering hands!” He held up both hands, “Not wandering - look!” before placing them chastely on your arm and shoulder.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your eyes opened, and you groggily looked around you, disorientated. Hearing soft little snores from beneath you, you raised your head to look at Billy’s sleeping face. Oh. You’d both obviously dozed off in front of the TV, the Netflix menu now on the screen. Moving slowly, you started to try and stand up but two hands went round your arms in a vice-like grip. “Where you off to?” said Billy’s deep voice. “Just...ummm... just...” you stuttered, but suddenly you were underneath him, his weight pressing you down as his mouth found yours in a hungry kiss. You knew you should resist but damn, he was a good kisser! Feeling yourself dissolve into the kiss, one of your hands moved up to his bristly jawline.

His kisses became more passionate and he pushed himself against you even more, his arousal very evident. You tried to ignore them but your feelings of desire for him were becoming overwhelming, and your arms went round his neck almost unbidden. He was smiling against your lips, and you heard, “Wanna sleep with me? D’you wanna?” Your treacherous mouth said “Yes!” in a breathy whisper, and that was all Billy needed to hear.

He picked you up in his arms, whispering “Where’s your bedroom?” You nodded towards its general direction and he carried you across the apartment and into your room. Setting you down, his fingers were immediately at the zip of your dress, pulling it down, pushing the fabric down then further down until your dress was round your ankles, before whipping it fully off and dropping it onto the floor. You watched him as his eyes roamed all over your body, taking in your lacy lingerie and moving the straps of your bra off your shoulders. “Mmmmm, sweetheart - wow - even better than I imagined,” he said hoarsely, his hands going round your back and unclipping your bra. He stripped it off you and dropped it, both hands immediately cupping your breasts and massaging firmly, thumbs running over your nipples as they peaked. Moving you backwards until your head hit the pillows, you felt his fingers pulling the fabric of your panties aside and suddenly the head of his cock was at your core and pushing inside you. “No time for foreplay, sorry,” you heard and you gave a deep groan when he kept going, feeling his balls brushing your pussy as he fully sheathed himself. His head went back and he gasped, “Fuck!” before he began to thrust. He lifted your legs and draped them over his hips, encouraging you to cross your ankles on his back to pull him even closer.

His mouth was everywhere on you, kissing you deeply one minute before his mouth went to one of your nipples, teasing it with his tongue while his thumb and fingers toyed with the other, then his mouth and teeth were on your neck and shoulders while he set a ferocious pace. A constant stream of low groans were leaving your lips as he moved on you, and you could hear him gasping and muttering words above you, not all of which you could catch, but you did hear “Uhhh, been wantin’ to do this to ya since the minute we met” between thrusts. You ran your hands over his chest and up around his neck, threading your fingers through his lush hair, and you felt him shiver as you pulled on it gently. His thumb was on your clit now, rubbing at you relentlessly and your orgasm washed over you like a wave. His teeth were fastened onto your shoulder and he bit down as you felt his body tense as he came. He lowered himself gently onto you before rolling off, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling as he got his breath back. “Wow,” he said quietly, before moving onto his side and gazing at you, running a finger gently along your jaw. “Yes, wow,” you replied, putting your hand on his bristly cheek.

“Well, if Caroline does ask if we’ve slept together, now we don’t have to lie,” smirked Billy. This instantly ruined the mood and you sat up, prior to wrapping one of the covers round you and getting out of bed. He looked a bit surprised, but you began moving away from the bed towards the bathroom. Returning a few moments later, you hesitated for a moment before climbing back into bed beside Billy, who was still lying there in all his naked glory. He immediately moved next you, his hands on your arm, “Did I say something wrong earlier? You were up and off like a ballistic missile.” You looked over at him, “A girl doesn’t exactly like to hear another one’s name getting mentioned just seconds after lovemaking.” A guilty look passed over his face, “Awww, shit!... I didn’t think, I’m really sorry... I was just so happy you slept with me, sweetheart.” He stroked your hair away from your face, “Forgive me? And my big clumsy mouth?” You huffed a bit but eventually nodded, not least due to the soft kisses he was peppering over your face and neck.

He breathed a sigh of relief, “I seem to spend all my time apologising to you,” he chuckled, “I’m really making a mess of this fake dating.” “Can’t argue with you there, Billy,” you agreed. “Look, I’m gonna try a lot harder, okay?” he said, running a finger along your arm. You sighed, “Okay... well here’s hoping it’ll be alright on the night.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The rest of the week, you and Billy had traded phone calls and text messages but (to your secret disappointment) the two of you didn’t meet up. To your mind that could only mean that Billy, who’d admitted to you that he liked the thrill of the chase, had now already caught you so that was it as far as he was concerned. He’d said that his work had been crazy busy but you didn’t feel at all convinced by that.

Friday eventually rolled around, and you were glad you’d decided to take a half day off work to get ready. Karen had strolled up to your desk as you were packing up your stuff before leaving, and you recognised her ‘Serious Talk’ look on her face. She walked along to the elevator with you and followed you inside. “Y’know I hope you really enjoy your evening with Billy tonight, but....” she bit her lip before continuing, “...you know he’s a player, right?” She quickly put her hand on your arm as the elevator reached the ground floor, “I’m not trying to spoil your fun, honestly I’m not, but some of the things Frank’s let slip recently would make your toes curl. Billy’s totally ruthless when it comes to cutting women loose.” The elevator doors opened and you both walked out, with you saying, “Don’t worry Karen, I sussed that out the minute I saw him,” over your shoulder as you continued out into the main lobby. You stopped and turned to her, lowering your voice and continuing, “But I slept with him last weekend and just as expected, he’s avoided meeting up with me all during this week.” Her mouth tightened, and you knew you were in for a Page Lecture. “Gahhh! What were you thinking?! You’ve just reinforced his impression that he can pull any woman he wants and then disappear on her! I can’t believe you didn’t even wait for this gala thing tonight! You could at least have held off till then.”

“Yes, mom,” you sighed, then smiled at her. “But you know what Karen, he’s so hot I just couldn’t resist! And I knew exactly what his reaction would be, and he hasn’t disappointed. He’s been in touch obviously because we’ve got this thing tonight, but he’s been ‘too busy at work’ to meet up. I’m sure that in Russo-speak, that really means ‘too busy chasing tail’ but I’m cool with that. Like I said, it’s what I expected,” shrugging as you said this. “Hmmmm,” replied Karen, staring at you intensely as if trying to read your mind, “...well as long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.” “I do,” you reassured her, hugging her before walking away with a nonchalant wave.

Out on the street you exhaled a big breath. If only you truly believed that.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy pulled up outside her apartment block and, as before, texted her to say he was there.

He was disappointed that he hadn’t been able to meet up with her during the week, and was also aware she probably thought he was avoiding her now they’d slept together. But he’d truly been up to his ears in it at work, and he wasn’t yet established enough in the security market to turn down job offers. So he’d taken on probably a few more than he should have done, and both he and Frank had had to weigh in on a couple of them to make sure they were handled correctly.

So apart from calls and texts, he’d had to miss out on seeing her. In fact, all he’d been thinking of the entire week was the prolonged session they’d indulged in last weekend. Once he’d apologised for mentioning Caroline’s name after they’d first made love, (really smart move Russo, he thought to himself) there had been a whole night of energetic and very enjoyable sex. Then a shared shower late the next morning after she’d woken him up with a surprise and very welcome blow job. God, the things she could do with her mouth! He squirmed in his seat, starting to get hard just thinking about it. He couldn’t wait for another one of those, that was for sure. Tonight after the gala if he was lucky!

He saw the main door to her apartment block open and she started walking towards the car. Wish I could get a better idea of how she looked in her dress, he thought. Oh well, I’ll just need to wait till we actually get to the place.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You slid into Billy’s flashy car, tucking your feet in last in an effort to be elegant. He leaned over, grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you long and hard. You eventually shoved him away, exclaiming “Billy! My lipstick!” You peered at his face, “And you’re covered in it!”

He burst out laughing, “Well, hello sweetheart!”

You handed him a tissue whilst you began trying to repair the smudges around your lips. He dampened it on his tongue and then quickly rubbed the burgundy colour off his mouth. Once you’d fixed your face, you leant over towards him and his mouth headed to yours again but you pulled back. “I’m checking your shirt collar to make sure there’s none on there!” Chuckling, he started up the car, “I did wonder why you waited till you’d put your lipstick back on before kissin’ me again.” “You kissed me!” you protested. He just laughed and manoeuvred the car into the traffic stream.

His head then swung towards you, “If you say so, sweetheart! Hey, I’d say you look beautiful but I can’t get a proper look at you in the car. So wait a little while till we get there and then I can compliment you properly, okay?” You nodded, “Yeah, same. I can’t get a look at you either.” Another chuckle, “You can see as much of me as you want later tonight, sweetheart.” “You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?!” Billy’s hand stole onto your thigh and travelled higher. “Wearin’ panties?” You tolerated his wandering fingers, “Yes I am, Marine. Sorry to disappoint.” He shrugged, smirk firmly in place, “Fine by me. They’re not gonna stop me gettin’ to where I wanna be anyhow.” Somewhat surprisingly to you, his hand went back onto the steering wheel. “But I’m gonna wait till we’re alone later. See, sweetheart - I’ve learned my lesson!” “Glad to hear it!” you shot back at him, before looking out of the window at the passing streets.

After arriving and parking at the venue, one of the big downtown hotels, you and Billy made your way upstairs to the function room. Leaving your coats at the cloakroom, Billy twirled you round in front of him, looking you over slowly from top to toe. “You look gorgeous,” he said admiringly, “really beautiful.” “Thank you. Not so bad yourself, Russo.” He was in one of his bespoke suits and was looking edible. He mock-bowed then leant down and kissed you on the lips, and you reminded yourself to act naturally when he did that. You both began walking towards the sound of music and chatter, his hand straying down onto the top of your ass as you went. Karen’s voice rang in your ears about how much of a player he was, and once again you fought the instinct to swat his hand away. If you could just do your duty and get through tonight, then you could put yourself deep into protective mode over this handsome devil.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Several gin & tonics later, you were returning from the ladies’ room and heading back to where you’d left your ‘boyfriend’ at the bar, wondering how much more of this tedious event you could stand, when you heard a high-pitched voice trilling, “Oh Billy! There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Hahah! you thought, this must be the infamous Caroline! Well, at least this next part is going to inject some much-needed fun into the evening.

You could see a small brunette standing in front of Billy with her hands grasping his biceps and beginning to pull him towards her. He spotted you approaching over her shoulder and extricated himself from her clutches saying, “Caroline.... how nice to see you! Just in time for me to introduce you to my girlfriend...” “Girlfriend?!” She whirled round and met your eyes, her own narrowing as she looked you up and down in a flash. You continued walking towards the two of them, noting that she was pretty but was heavily made up; she really didn’t need to plaster it on like she had but - whatever, you thought. Billy moved past her to swiftly put his arm around your waist and draw you to him, introducing you at the same time. She nodded her head briefly at you, “Hi, I’m Caroline. A friend of Billy’s.” She emphasised the word ‘friend’. You beamed back a big smile at her, “Lovely to meet another of his friends,” you said, also emphasising the word. You felt Billy tense up a bit, but you thought that playing the jealous girlfriend might be a good way to go, especially when you noticed the little smirk on her face. You tugged on his arm, “C’mon Billy, you promised me a dance,” you said in a ‘little girl’ voice, which nearly made you heave quite frankly but you felt struck the right note.

Billy raised a hand vaguely towards Caroline as he said to you, “Yes I did, sweetheart. Let’s go. Bye, Caroline - good to see you,” and then gave you a long kiss as the two of you headed to the dance floor. Once Billy had you in his arms, you felt his lips next to your ear and he whispered, “So.... jealous girlfriend, huh?” You nodded, smiling up at him, “She’ll like the fact that I think she’s a threat. But as long as you keep up the PDA’s, I think she’ll buy it.” He immediately kissed you, the hand which had been on your waist surreptitiously sliding downwards at the same time. As you broke apart from the kiss, you caught sight of Caroline glaring at the two of you from a table near the edge of the dance floor. You ran your hand up onto Billy’s jaw before continuing to the back of his neck. You’d discovered during your night together that this was one of Billy’s weak spots, so you trailed your fingers over his skin and had him wrapped round your finger within seconds, just as had happened that other night. He pressed his body close against you, ensuring you felt how aroused he was. “When can we skip out of here?” he breathed to you, making you laugh. “I don’t know! It’s your event - when do you want to stay until?”

Before he could reply, you were aware of a figure next to you and a hand went onto Billy’s arm. “Mind if I cut in?” asked Caroline, giving you a nasty smirk. However it dropped off her face when Billy said hurriedly, “Sorry, Caroline - we’re just leaving,” and began leading you off the dance floor. “Oh, that’s such a shame,” you heard, and realised she was trailing after you and Billy as you left the dance floor. “I was so looking forward to hearing all about how you & Billy met.” You stole a quick glance at Billy before saying over your shoulder, “Through mutual friends.” Still following you both as you headed over to pick up your coats, she rattled out, “it’s just that I’m a bit surprised - it seems quite strange that Billy never mentioned a girlfriend before tonight.” Billy looked irritated but his face became blank as he turned slightly back towards her and replied, “Uh, I am right here y’know!.... well Caroline, we never spoke about our personal lives so it’s not that strange at all to be honest.” You’d reached the small counter by now and had handed over the tickets to the attendant, and while you’d hoped that Billy’s answer would have silenced her, Caroline continued, “So how long have you been dating?” You turned and stared at her, and found her already staring back at you, “Mmm, it’s about two months now, isn’t it Billy?” and moved your eyes to his. He glanced quickly behind him at her, “ Yes, sweetheart - a little over two months actually,” he turned back to you, smiling fondly, “and I gotta say, they’ve been two of the sweetest months of my life.” He leant down and kissed you full on the lips.

Caroline’s lip curled up at this and was still curling as you met her annoyed gaze once Billy’s lips left yours. “Well,” she began, but was then interrupted by a tall older man who came up to the three of you and placed a hand on Caroline’s shoulder. “Hello, Russo,” he said, shaking hands with Billy who greeted him with a “Hi, Mike,” as the older guy’s eyes wandered quizzically over to you. “And who’s this lovely young lady, then?” he asked but before either you or Billy could say anything, Caroline spat out, “His girlfriend, Daddy - imagine that!” However her father merely gave you a friendly grin while Billy introduced you. After a quick handshake, he commented that it was a real shame that you were both leaving before he could buy you a drink. But Billy said firmly, with a mischievous look at you, “Sorry, Mike.... we’re... uhhh... quite anxious to get home.” Mike laughed knowingly while you heard a loud ‘tut’ from his daughter. You smiled brightly at both of them, “Well.... lovely to meet you and hope you enjoy the rest of the evening. Bye!” Taking your coat from the attendant, Billy helped you into it before putting on his own and the two of you said final goodbyes to Mike and Caroline before making your escape.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“Thank god that’s over!” you breathed out a sigh of relief as you settled back into your seat, while Billy switched on the car’s powerful engine and it purred into life. “You didn’t enjoy it?” he grinned, “...even with such a charming boyfriend attending to your every need all evening?!” You laughed, “Sorry Billy, no I didn’t. I hated every second of it! But I think we accomplished the mission, don’t you?” Turning your head and watching his profile as he reversed the car out of the parking space, you asked, “D’you want me to get the dress dry-cleaned and you can take it back to the store? I mean I’ve only had it on for a few hours and I managed not to spill anything down it.” He glanced over at you, a strange look in his eyes. “No, I don’t want you to clean it and return it. It’s yours to keep. And yes, we did achieve our goal.” He started driving away from the hotel, and you realised it was the wrong direction for your place. You’d never been to his apartment but had a feeling that’s where you were heading.

“Where are you going, Billy? I just want dropped off at home so I can get out of all of this and relax.” He laughed, and for some reason you thought he sounded a bit pissed off. “Ahh no, that’s not happenin’, sweetheart,” he said, looking across at you, eyes gleaming with something but you weren’t sure exactly what. Determination? Desire? “We’re headin’ to mine. And yeah, you’re gonna be gettin’ out of those clothes, don’t worry.” “Look, Billy,” you said, feeling a bit uneasy for some reason, “...we’re done here, okay? We’ve already slept together, you got what you wanted so now you move on, correct? That’s your usual M.O. isn’t it? You made that obvious this week. Don’t worry, I got the message loud and clear. I’m not some clingy desperate woman that’s gonna keep chasing after you. I knew what the deal was with you the minute I set eyes on you. So.... just turn around and take me home.” You’d been staring at the road ahead but were aware of him shaking his head, “No.” You looked across at him, “No? What, you’re kidnapping me now?” “You can think of it that way if you like, sweetheart. I knew you’d think I was avoidin’ you this week, but I wasn’t. I’m not ready to let you get away just yet. We’re gonna go to mine, and you’re gonna spend the night on your back - and in various other positions - cos I need another night of sex with you.”

“And what if that’s not what I want? What if I don’t want to be used like a fuck toy before you disappear over the horizon? Doesn’t it matter to you what I want?” He chuckled, and you felt a little shiver of fear run through you, “Not right now, no. Because this is all I’ve been thinkin’ about the whole week. And because you’re sayin’ one thing, but you mean another.” “Really?! That’s what you think?” you scoffed, shaking your head, “You’re unbelievable, you know that? The level of arrogance....!” He pulled the car over into the inside lane and then turned into an underground car park. He killed the engine, and in the sudden silence you heard him say in a low voice, “Call it arrogance if you like. I call it knowing what I want and makin’ sure I get it.” He released his seat belt and got out of the car, coming round and opening your door before taking hold of your arm and pulling you out of it. He locked the car with a bleep of the remote on his keychain, then dragged you - firmly but not roughly - over to an elevator which he unlocked with a key before calling it down. Once it arrived, he hustled you inside and once the doors closed, his mouth was instantly on yours. He kissed you roughly, open-mouthed with teeth and lips and tongue all involved. His hands were undoing the buttons on your coat and then were inside it, immediately going to your breasts.

You struggled with him, trying to push him off but he continued kissing you, and you heard his voice telling you to just admit you wanted it. The awful thing was, you did want him and it annoyed the hell out of you. However his current attitude was also annoying the hell out of you so you continued to push at his muscled, toned body to get him off you. But you were no match for the ex-Marine and you heard a ‘ting’ and the elevator doors opening as Billy continued to kiss and grope you. He pushed you firmly out of the lift, keeping hold of your arm and propelling you towards a door - the only door, you noticed - and then into the apartment after he unlocked the door. He slammed it behind him then was on you in a flash, grabbing your bag and throwing it onto the sofa before stripping off your coat and dropping it on the floor. You were aware of being in a large open-plan space with floor-to-ceiling windows and trendy furniture, before you were scooped up as easily as if you were a throw cushion and carried into an equally large bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind him and dumped you rather unceremoniously on the bed, stripping his clothes off in a matter of seconds and letting them fall where they may. Then he was back on you, flipping you over and unzipping your dress in one quick motion. He stripped it down off your shoulders, turned you back over and pulled it off you. You looked up at him, finally finding your voice, “Billy! Stop it.” He shook his head, “Nah, not happenin’ sweetheart. We’re gonna have sex now.” You opened your mouth but nothing would come out. Why couldn’t you say anything else?

Because you do want it, said a sly voice in your head. And whilst the caveman routine might not be the most appealing of Billy’s wooing techniques, he’d excited you beyond belief and you could feel how damp your panties were. You’d told yourself before the evening started that you weren’t going to have sex with him that night, but at the same time had perversely hoped that it would in fact happen. You were absolutely furious with yourself but at the same time, totally conflicted and unable to ignore the desire you felt for him.

You felt his fingers fumbling a bit at your back and then your bra was dramatically whipped off and thrown across the room. His mouth and hands were immediately on your breasts, fingers massaging and toying with one nipple while he licked the other, his tongue roughly raking over its peak and surrounding skin before he started to suck and bite at it, enough to make you squeal but not hard enough to cause you real pain. Then he swapped and your other breast came in for the same treatment. You felt his fingers sliding down your body and pulling at your panties, after a few seconds he then sat up and stripped them off you. They also joined your bra across the other side of the room. He lowered himself onto you, hands parting your legs and you knew he was guiding himself inside you. His hard length pushed into you and you felt the stretch much more than you had the first time you’d had sex with him. Of course he was in a more of a rush this time, seemingly desperate to have sex with you, judging by the way he’d thrown you down, ripped your clothes off and immediately got between your legs.

He slid his hands under your knees and lifted your legs up until your ankles were on his shoulders, deeply thrusting into you as he did so, and you heard yourself give a loud groan. He gave a long, low groan himself as he picked up his pace, and you heard his whispered words next to your ear, “You like that, sweetheart? Feel good?” “Yes!!!!!” you gasped, hating yourself for admitting it but it was the absolute truth. He kissed you passionately, hands running up and down your legs and onto your body as he thrust hard into you, mouth moving to your neck and collarbone, nipping at your skin then licking where he’d lightly bitten you. You climaxed first, Billy’s thumb having found its favourite place on your clit, and you’d dug your nails into his shoulders before running your hands up into his hair and pulling it. Hearing his answering chuckle, his hips cannoned into yours a final few times before you felt him release into you, and he sank down heavily on top of you, panting and trying to get his breath back. He moved off you and laid on his back, seemingly exhausted by his over-eager exertions. His head tilted towards you, “I’m not finished with you yet, sweetheart. Need more.”

You propped yourself up on an elbow, “Just what the fuck is all this neanderthal stuff about, Billy?” He sighed and looked back up at the ceiling. “Remember you said I wouldn’t know what a relationship was if it bit me on the ass?” “Yeah?” “You’re right. I’ve never experienced a loving relationship in my life. I dunno what love is, really.” Then out it all spilled.... his abandonment as a very young kid, the group homes, the abuse, the stigma. How he’d signed up for the Marines as soon as he was old enough, got a business degree before shipping out, how Frank had his back almost from day one. The dark eyes eventually looked into yours, “So just confirmin’ - I’m officially shit at relationships.” You nodded thoughtfully, “Well... now I understand things a little bit better, Billy. You discard women after a very short time as a self-defence measure, because you have a fear of being abandoned again. Ditch them before they can ditch you, right? Because you still have self-esteem issues, deep down underneath that confident exterior. It’s hard to overcome years of being looked down upon and sidelined.” You reached out and ran your fingers through his small patch of chest hair. He flinched slightly so you withdrew your hand, but his own hand went out and he laid it on top of yours for a brief moment.

Then he sat up a bit and stretched, laughing as he did so, “Told you, you’re in the wrong job, sweetheart.” He leaned back onto the pillows, carefully looking away from you, “Guess I didn’t do a very good job of lettin’ you know I want you to stay around and be with me?” You sat up, pulling one of the sheets over you, “What?” you asked. He looked over at you again, “All of this,” his hand waved vaguely between you and him, “This is me tryna let you know I really like you. I honestly missed bein’ with you during the week. An’ I was really busy, me and Frank, all week - I wasn’t tryna avoid you, okay? All I could think about was the night we spent together, how I want that to be a regular thing. Spend time with you.”

You started chuckling to yourself before it bubbled up into real laughter. He’d been looking down and fidgeting with the covers but now his head swung up and his eyebrows pulled into a frown. You calmed down a little and reached out to him, softly stroking his shoulder, “Billy... I’m not really laughing at you. Well, I suppose I am but only because I’m really surprised. That’s not how guys usually let girls know they’re interested! - kidnapping them and telling them that they will have sex with them.” Billy grunted, “Yeah, I realise that. It’s what I’m tryna tell you, sweetheart. I’m shit at this kinda stuff.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Sunday lunchtime, you met up with Karen who was gagging to know what had happened on Friday night. You dutifully recounted everything, even Billy’s metamorphosis into caveman as you left the hotel. Karen’s expression got more and more incredulous and as you drew to a close with his admission of being completely crap at all things relationship-related, she finally said, “Fuck! That’s unbelievable. So how did you leave things? You kick him to the curb?”

You took a sip of your G&T, and smiled back at her, “He wants me to teach him what a real relationship is all about.”

“And you’re prepared to take a chance on him and show him, are you?” You nodded, “Yeah I guess I am, Karen. I know it sounds crazy, but he wants to try. And I’d like to try. So we went from fake to genuine as of Friday night.”

She chuckled, shaking her head and sipping her drink before saying, “Well, you’re a glutton for punishment, I’ll say that for you. And I wish you the best of luck trying to tame that bad boy.” She lifted her glass and you clinked yours against hers, “Thanks, Karen. I’m just gonna take it one day at a time. If it doesn’t work out...” you shrugged, “...at least I gave it a shot.” She put her hand over yours, “Do you think he’ll keep it in his pants? He’s used to putting it about all over town,” squeezing your hand, “...sorry to have to say that honey, but it’s true.” You nodded, “Yeah I know, and all I can say is he’s promised he won’t be doing that from now on. But if I get even a whiff of another woman’s perfume off him, I will be kicking him to the curb faster than he can say ‘it’s not what you think, sweetheart’, believe me! And I’ve told him that too, in no uncertain terms.” She nodded, “Well, you’ve given him fair warning so if he fucks up, that’s definitely on him.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frank threw his head back, giving a great belly laugh which went on for a lot longer than Billy Russo thought it should do. After a few moments, Frank’s face had gone beet red and tears were squeezing out of the corners of his eyes. Billy folded his arms across his chest, sitting back in the diner booth and scowling at Frank, “Okay, okay, Frankie - enough already,” he grumbled as Frank continued to laugh. Eventually Frank calmed down enough to speak, “Russo! I don’t believe it, I really don’t. Does that girl know what she’s letting herself in for?! She must be missing a few rounds out of her ammo clip.” Billy pulled a face, “Look... I like her, okay? She’s gonna teach me what a proper relationship’s like. She’s willin’ to give me a chance, so cut me some slack over here, will ya?” Frank took a big pull at his beer, “Oh Russo, how the fuck ya gonna keep it in your pants?” (unknowingly parroting Karen’s very same comment to her friend). Billy shrugged, “Look...I will, I tell ya. I mean it, I only want her. The sex is....” he made a chef’s kiss hand gesture, “....and she doesn’t take any of my shit, either. I really like her, Frankie. I think I’m ready to...” “Settle down? Really, Bill - are you? Cos if you fuck this up, you’ve got Karen to deal with as well as your girl.”

Billy took a hit of his beer, “You think I don’t know that? And I’d get a ton of crap from you too, cos Karen’d be upset. You like her, dontcha?” Frank’s cheeks went a slight shade of pink, “Well, yeah. I guess I do.” Now it was Billy’s turn to laugh, “You guess you do? Frankie, you’re like a teenager with a major crush every time your phone rings! ‘Ooh, it’s Karen!’” he said, the last bit in a high-pitched voice. “I do not talk like that!” Frank growled at him, “And you better spend your energy learning how to treat a woman properly, rather than ripping the shit outta me, Russo!”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your phone dinged and you picked it up, seeing a text notification from Billy on the screen. Turning your phone briefly towards Karen to show her this, you clicked on it and then smiled as you read it. Showing the message to her, she also smiled, “Wow, seems like he’s definitely trying!” You agreed, “I do believe he is!” Maybe this crazy relationship thing you and Billy had agreed to embark on did have a chance of working out after all. You definitely still had your misgivings - does a leopard (or panther) really change its spots? - but you were willing to give it a try as long as Billy stuck to his end of the bargain. No other women, no lying, spending a lot of quality time together... let’s just see how all that goes, you thought. Re-reading the text, it made you smile once more.

Billy’s text said simply, “I’m missing you, sweetheart. Come over to mine, I’ll cook you dinner.”

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(My photo edit)

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Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry

(Using D&D’s taglist, if you’d prefer to be removed, just let me know!)

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[sslow-dancer]

hi! can i request a one shot with polnareff x reader but he’s still stuck as the turtle but a twist like the princess and the frog? the reader kisses the turtle and he comes back to being his old (part 3) self because the reader is the one? lots of fluff plzzz? ty ;w;

A/N: Okay but this idea is so unbelievably cute?! I apologize for taking forever to get it done. I went a bit deep and overboard with the storyline on a request that is so simple and I’m pretty sure this is my longest one up to date actually BUT- it’s whatever. There’s plenty of fluff near the end, I promise. I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it too!! 🤍

(If this flops, I will be so sad omg)

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“You’re The One, My Love.” (Jean Pierre Polnareff x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse and depression

tags: gender-neutral, gender-inclusive, jean pierre polnareff x reader, turtle pol, magical, kiss, twist, slight angst, sfw, fluff

Description: One day after having to escort Polnareff as orders from your boss, you begin to grow quite fond of him. During your usual hangouts, you jokingly offer to kiss him as a way to recreate one of your favorite fairytales.

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You giggle as Jean pulls you into a kiss, you feel him smile as he holds your face gently. You’re happy to see the man you love not be as serious and hurt as he was when you first met him. Your expression reminiscent of the memories shared between you before this moment.

~A Year Before~

Your personal servant had drawn the curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, body awaken by the bright sunlight shining from your windows and murmurs outside your bedroom. You groaned in frustration as you threw a pillow at him, he managed to catch it and place it back by your bed frame. You huffed,

“Didn’t boss say I have the week off? I’m allowed to sleep in.” you stated blankly, remembering how you had the strong urge to strangle him for ruining your slumber. He shook his head as he sat by the edge of your bed and pointed at the clock that stood on top of your nightstand. You distinctly remember the screen marked 7:25AM exactly. You sighed as you thought you could’ve at least slept in by 10. You sat up and criss crossed your legs and played with the lose strings of your blanket as he replied.

“Technically you do, but today is last minute and different. Sr. Giovanna wants you to escort out a close individual he works with today by 8.”

Frustrated, you plopped your hands down onto your lap and rolled your eyes as you said back,

“Not to be bratty but...can’t he just do that himself or get one of you to do it?” you raised your pointers and middle fingers to create air quotations “This individual must be pretty important if not even the boss can take care of it.”

Your servant shut his eyes and sighed. After what you had just told him, deep down you felt bad about how much he had to deal with your bull on a daily basis- not to mention your constant grumbling in the morning whether he woke you or not. Either way, you were pretty grumpy most mornings. He shook his head again.

“It’s not that either. Sr. Giovanna could easily lead him out but he’s currently finishing business with other people in the country. Sr. Mista is with him as well so you’re the only one we have present. They both must attend all meetings, they are not to miss one.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t answer my question. What’s so important about him or her or whatever the hell they go by?”

“I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.” He said finally as he patted your bed as a way to non-verbally tell you to get ready.

You huffed when he exited the room, plopping your back down hard into the foamy mattress. You roughly grabbed at the pillow you had thrown earlier and placed it over your face, you screamed into it for a good 10 seconds.

Looking back, were you being a little too dramatic? Yes, sure- of course. It’d make anyone cringe if they were to had witnessed it though you didn’t really mind. You were still maturing anyway. You were still getting used to the life Giorno Giovanna and Guido Mista had offered and gladly given to you.

Before meeting your boss Giovanna and his right hand man Mista, you had been living life miserably at home. Though before anyone asks, no: your parents were not abusive, no: your siblings weren’t either, no: nor were your friends or teachers. You had just become very distressed with the life you were leading on. You didn’t like the person you were and were expected to become. Anxiety took over rather unexpectedly. So what did you do when you had enough? You moved on to drugs.

You were surprised to find out how easy it was for a person in their late teens to gain access towards those terrible substances. But none the less, you later learned your dealer was from the mafia known as “Passione.”

Was it dangerous for you to have figured out that information? Yes. However, you remained cautious and never told a soul...until one day you bumped into the now late capo, Bruno Bucciarati.

You were walking down your local dealing alleyway, hands in pockets and school bag still in sight. You usually dealt after school as many adults were distracted by the kids that filled up the streets. Thus making them barely notice the illegal activity going on as a large number of students would walk down alleyways as a shortcut to their home. You were swift in paying back and receiving your desired substances anyway.

All of a sudden you heard a distant call, a call out of your name. You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to look at the direction from where the call was coming from, that’s when you saw him. He stood a few feet from you.

“I’m glad I was able to find you...my name is Bruno Bucciarati. Your parents sent me to look for you, they’ve mentioned to me that you’ve been coming home late from school lately.”

You only shrugged and completely ignored his claim. You began walking away but were stopped again when he said,

“Leaky eyed Luca deals with you, doesn’t he?”

You kept your gaze forward and your back turned away from Bruno. Turning your head slightly over your shoulder, you mumbled,

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

Without having to look at him, you knew he had tilted his head when he answered.

“That depends. If you answer honestly, no trouble will occur. I’ll remain calm with you, that is a promise.”

You blinked, sighing as you kicked at the small pebbles near your feet, staring at your shoes as you thought about what he said.

You had been dealing with Luca and you knew that his business was risky. Though you didn’t care. You felt that you needed to get the drugs you wanted pronto and Luca was the only one who would give them to you quickly. You shook your head, deciding to give up as you didn’t want anyone to notice you both speaking. You turned to face him and quietly replied,

“Yes, he deals with me. He’s the provider, I’m the receiver.”

Bruno smiled, satisfied with your answer.

He followed up with informing you that Luca had been killed at a local airport and was told to investigate his death. He didn’t provide too many details as to the cause of his death but you didn’t feel like asking anyway. Bruno admitted he came to speak to you as hours prior one of your parents really did come to speak to him about your behavior. After connecting some dots, he suspected you had something to do with Luca’s death as you were not attending school and were gone for most of the day. Not to mention, your teachers had called your parents that day as well.

Luckily, he was able to clear you out as a suspect as you cooperated with him and weren’t sweaty or completely jittery. He also gave you a little talk about using drugs. He promised he wouldn’t tell your parents that you got yourself involved in that abusive life if you promised to not buy more again.

You truly felt at the time that he was the only one who understood and cared for you in just the short time you met him. Your eyes watered as you complied with Bruno, promising to do what he suggested. A promise you have held onto forever.

After some investigating of your own, you found out that it was your future boss that killed Luca. You were rather impressed than angry that he was able to kill him. You honestly believed Luca would never be caught.

Back to the day you had to escort this individual- after some more complaining and grumpy remarks towards everyone in the household, you were finally ready to meet them. Your personal servant led you to the front door. He made sure to quietly remind you to be polite.

Your attention turned to another servant walking down the stairs towards your direction. A pillow in hand with a piece of cloth covering whatever was on top it. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, laughing as you sarcastically remarked,

“Is this some kind of joke? It’s not April, is it?”

“No, but I guess this household treating me with the upmost respect is.”

Your eyes widen. ‘Did that thing under the cloth just speak?” you asked yourself.

The servant removed the cloth and there revealed a turtle. A turtle with a key-shaped hole embedded on its shell. You almost assumed that the turtle smirked at you when he added,

“I know, don’t be too surprised. I plan to get out of this animal once my soul decides to give up. I haven’t always looked like this, ya know.”

Your mouth gaped open as to say something, but you quickly shut it as you didn’t know how to reply. He chuckled,

“Hand me over to them, we’ll talk more when we get to my destination.”

You hesitantly took the pillow from the servant’s hands and remained in shock as you walked out the door. You were careful not to drop him as you got down to the front gates. Gulping as you asked,

“So...my servant wasn’t that specific on me having to leave you in the car or actually riding with you. It’s kind of my fault as I don’t like to listen and talk in the morning...”

You nervously laughed as he looked up to you. He replied,

“It’s quite alright. I was told you have to ride with me. But don’t worry, you won’t have to stay for long. It’s only around a 10 minute ride.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You sat behind the passenger seat and placed the pillow in the middle, right next to your side.

The ride was relatively quiet, you looked out the window as you kept a fist under your chin. Your expression showed that of concern. You were too nervous to say anything. Even though he had joked back earlier, you were afraid he didn’t like you as his voice stayed stern throughout your small talk. You were afraid you had offended him in some way.

Your mood changed when the driver alerted that you had arrived. You thanked him as he opened the door for you, your hands grasped the pillow tightly so the talking turtle wouldn’t fall. You asked him with a small voice.

“Is there anywhere you’d like for me to set you?”

“Yes... put me on top of that balcony over there. I want to look at the lake.”

“Of course.”

You did as he said and sat him on the balcony. Your eyes gleamed when you caught sight of the glimmering water and greenery of the setting. You’ve always known that Italy is one of the most beautiful places in the world but at that time you had forgotten and were fascinated all over again. Like when a child sees a playground for the first time.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, you nodded.

“Yes, it really is. It’s no wonder you asked me set you on here.”

“Yes... I wanted to look at one more beautiful sight before I go. Like I said earlier, my soul is no longer fit to be here, so I might as well admire my surroundings for now.”

Your mind quickly became curious after he said that. You wanted to know more behind what he meant. You weren’t going back to that car until you got answers. So to make things easy, you started off with asking his name.

“If you don’t mind... would you like to tell me your name?”

“It’s Jean. Jean Pierre Polnareff.”

‘So he’s French.’ you remember thinking, his accent wasn’t too thick but you assumed and your assumption was right. After that, you went on to tell him your name and your experiences before meeting boss Giorno Giovanna. He shared the same with you.

You talked for so long in fact that you paid off the driver of your assigned car to go back and finish his shift early, promising them that you’ll find a ride later yourself.

You ended off the chatty night with placing Jean under a nearby bench and waving at him. You were saddened but Jean said he enjoyed your company so much that he’ll try to stay for longer and that you’re welcome to come him visit him everyday.

And so you did.

For months you came by to talk to him. You were happy to see that his soul wasn’t giving up yet- you knew you would cry if it were to one day. You had come to realize that you love him but you didn’t know if he felt the same way about you. You had only seen his face once- that was the day he decided to show you the physical embodiment of his soul.

You thought (and still think) he was so beautiful. The missing of bottom limbs and blindness in one eye did not bother you at all. His white-silver hair, style and personality is what did it for you. What it did to make you fall in love with his vanity and him. Just him. Jean himself.

~A Year Later~

It’s been a year now and as per usual, you spent half your days speaking to Jean by that same lake you were ordered to drive him to.

Boss Giovanna and Mista have noticed how fast you are in missions since then. They appreciate that you get things done but they still remain curious as to why you’re more happy and less grumpy than you were before. Though they don’t bother to ask, as they’re kind and don’t want to ruin your pure joy.

Today isn’t particularly different. All you had done earlier in the day was speak to a few citizens in town and dealt with giving details to your boss about a certain drug epidemic at a school. Nothing too out of the ordinary, a situation like this occurred at your old school too years back. Your duties were basically done once you learned information got to police.

You drive down to the park where the lake is at, smiling when you see a familiar small green circle on the balcony, looking over the glimmering waters. You park in the nearest lot and lock your car after getting out. You excitedly run over to Jean and smile when he turns his little head to greet you.

“I’m glad you’ve come again.” he says with a smile.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” you reply in a genuine tone.

You go on to talk about random topics and subjects as you always do. The conversation moving onto favorite pieces of literature and genres.

You roll your eyes in embarrassment as you tell him your most favorite one- one that is a fairytale and goes by the name of “The Frog Prince.”

“Well... it’s very fem of me but I really enjoy fairytales. Especially the ones from the Grimm brothers. My favorite is actually “The Frog Prince”

You place your elbow on the rail and use a hand to cover your burning cheek. Hoping that the redness rushing to your face won’t be noticed by Jean and that the sunset covers it up. Jean only laughs and hopes to comfort you when he says,

“Oh, that’s fine. Who cares if it’s feminine? They’re very well written stories and people shouldn’t be ashamed for what they like. I admire that your favorite genre is fairytale, you don’t hear people say that as often, you know?”

His words do comfort you and you thank him for that. He welcomes you and you feel like you’re actually looking into his sapphire eyes. The ones you fell in love with so long ago. You speak up before you’re even able to fully think.

“Say, the frog prince and the princess kissing, huh? Why don’t we kiss and see if it turns you back?”

Shit.

‘Did I really just ask that?’ you ask yourself ‘What the actual hell is wrong with you?!”

“I don’t see why not...”

“Huh?”

You’re stunned. You thought he would get offended for spurting out such a stupid thing. Of course your request won’t work- that shit is from a story book. It’s pure fiction. This is real life.

He’s a turtle now and you’re a human. You can’t and you won’t kiss him. You raise your hands up in defense.

“Hey, no! No need to play along after saying something so stupid to make me feel better. I just blurted that out I’m so sorry-“

“No, it’s okay. And I’m not playing along, I’m being serious. Go ahead. I’ve grown to like you a lot, a small kiss wouldn’t hurt.”

This answer is not what you expected. You nervously fiddle with your fingers as you look around. You sigh as you give in.

“Fine. I like you a lot too and I’ll do it. Let me just-“

You lift up the top half of Jean, his front turtle legs up in the air and his little face staring up at you. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, you slowly lean in and- kiss✨

The turtle falls out of your grasp. You stop puckering your lips and open your eyes. In a panicked state, you frantically look over the balcony and both sides of you to find him. You look forward and gasp. You grab at the railings to hold you steady.

There sits a groaning man on his knees. He rubs at his neck as he silently curses to himself, blinking fast and harshly as he tries to understand what’s going on around him. It’s dark now but the moon shines bright enough for you to get a better glimpse of him. You furrow your eyebrows as you slowly recognize who he is- Jean.

He has that same white-silver hair, sapphire eyes, big stature though the only difference is no eye glass in sight and his “legs” aren’t made out of metal.. they’re completely real. Flesh and all and you know that blood flows right through them like the rest of his body.

“J-Jean?” you whisper.

The man doesn’t hear you. All he does is groan and cross his legs in front of him. He stretches his arms and looks over any possible injuries on him.

“Jean.” you say again, louder this time.

He finally looks up at you. And there they are, those sapphire eyes you love so much. That face you’ve grown to be so fond off. His expression more than surprised. Though that expression quickly changes and softens- his eyes crease and a small smile appears. He says your name. And you tear up after he does.

He attempts to get up but his legs give up on him. You sprint to his side before he falls, letting him use your shoulders as support. He blushes.

“I’m sorry... I haven’t had real legs in years. Apparently I forgot how to use them...”

His voice is softer than before, the sternness isn’t there. He sounds younger almost. You giggle, as you use a hand to wipe at the tears of your eyes.

“Okay, I think I can stand now. Let go of me so I can look at you fully.”

You do as he says and as you watch him wobble, you reach out to help again but he shakes his head, waving your hands off as he’s able to maintain balance. You grin proudly when he does.

Jean turns to face you, he clasps your hands together and brings them up to his lips. You blush as he proceeds to hold them over his heart. He looks at you with pure love in his eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. What you suggested was silly but it worked.”

“Yes, you’re welcome...” you say softly, looking down. He makes you look up again.

“You’re the one, my love. You always have been and always will be. My feelings for you started when we first met, I meant what I said. I have grown to like you a lot though it’s more than “like”- it’s love. And I’m so happy to know you feel the same way.”

You tear up at this and hug him. He hugs you back and you can’t believe that he does.

The turtle is no more and you have your true love back to human form.

He raises your chin up with his thumb and pointer, he kisses you and you kiss him back. The kiss long and meaningful.

You’re happy to know that the man you love, loves you too.

[armillary-spheres-lover]

SP/so vs SO/sx

Not sure how much this can be generalized since it's only my personal experience. When I was a pre-teen my best friend used to be a so/sx 6w7, while I am 9w1 sp/so. Sp dom vs Sp blind... some stuff went down and it’s fascinating to analyze such differences to me (I feel like I'm fascinated by sp blinds in general wtf).

She was the V immature of the pair, throwing herself in any possible weird experience she could have just for the sake of it. She would always cause so much drama it was legit concerning and I always was on the sidelines, not participating and sometimes suggesting her to stop, but did she listen to me? Never, and also, in some ways, I think I did in fact understand her desire to feel alive and feel stuff and do dumb stuff, possibly in that I am sx-blind and I won't fucking allow myself to do that, while she totally did. I guess, I don't usually pay any mind to my sx-blindness but the only time that it kind of felt like I was missing on something was when I would spend time with her? And also now that I'm actually studying the instictual variants I guess I'm starting to realize it (but also not really there's a shit ton of work to do). She would always act as if she was the protagonist of some weird 19th romantic novel but, make it dumber (we were 11-12 after all, how smart could we be?).

I deeply, deeply understand her need and wish to be like a novel protagonist. I do think of myself in that way quite often. But while she did it by acting and getting actively involved in stuff, I’ve always done the same by hyper-interpreting my simpler, more boring experiences (9 basic bitch here, feeling attached to something while being withdrawn and out of touch with your body results in amazing fantasy sky castles). She was never satisfied by this.

If she wanted intensity, she would create it by idk, doing some dumb stuff she would for sure later regret. While she went on to feel so alive, I would stay in the back overthinking my more boring life. An example would be that while she actually acted so that everyone around us hated her and shunned her, I would simply feel and think I was being shunned as well, but in practice I would never do something that would elicit a strong reaction out of others. I basically fantasized about it. As you can tell her being a Social Dominant I guess she got the sx juice she wanted through social stuff (her reputation, going against the social system (social 6s often do that)).

In so many ways, if I were to simplify it, she was a mixture of Dorian Gray and Heathcliff and I was Des Esseintes. She was an edgier version of Dorian Gray, wanting to experience everything but make it dark and painful and tormented (a là Heathcliff), not once holding herself back. Des Esseintes, on the other hand, would also feel like a misfit and a tormented soul but he did so by staying inside his house and hyper-interpreting his experiences to an insane degree, until he basically starts to hallucinate. He barely goes outside of his home and when he does everything seems weird, scary, magical in its own way, and while a bit creepy that’s also part of being sx-blind I think? You secretly want that way of feeling alive via the dark things in life (not sure if my fixes have a part in this as idk other 9s may not relate to this maybe) but also you want to go about it safely (sp) and by not exposing yourself (9), so it becomes like wearing a pair of glasses that adds a layer of poetry and beauty and suffering to an otherwise normal, boring and inane reality (again, 9 fantasy shit). But that’s about it. It’s a magical pair of glasses that at times I feel like I can remove and put on at will when I’m bored and I feel like I want more out of life. Outsourcing sx if you will w/o ever acting on this shit. I relate to Des Esseintes even though he was possibly a sp 4 but whatever I guess...

My old friend, being sp-blind, of course did not feel the same need for “safety” and had nothing to hold her back, really... the 6w7 sp blind brings a lot of energy and a way to never be able to fucking stand still, so yeah... it was so fascinating to see her act that differently from me, but also empathizing with her desire to get MORE out of life and dive into the darker aspects of it. I guess that’s why I sticked with her even when I thought she was being unreasonable and annoyingly melodramatic. Most people would shun her and don’t get her ways and while I can’t say that I got her, I would at least sympathise with her wish to experience more and be dramatic, even if I couldn’t quite elaborate it at the time and I superficially thought she was being too immature (this is so funny, we were fucking 10 and we were already doing instictual stuff with me acting like the adult one idk. Also w1 may play a part in this shit. Me being sp dom felt like I was supposed to check on her but also I didn't really do it because it was fun to tag along with her dumb stuff). But while she had the courage(?) to act on such a wish, I did not - I never had it, and instead compensated by having an hyperactive mental landscape...

There was a Wilde’s quote that went like, “the artist always represents what they themselves cannot live and experience”, or whatever, and I’ve always related to it way too deeply, lmao. I would represent, think, imagine, write the stories, and instead she would actively live them. Also Wilde was a so/sx so I guess that means something

While I may be bitter, because even as a sx-blind I at times feel....... like I want to live and get involved in stuff more? also I guess 9s have a way to dissociate with their life quite easily so that doesn't help (a sx-blind 7 would probably feel like they're getting involved more). Plus possibly having a 5fix makes it worse? it kind of sucks tbfh. Like it feels I've been dissociated since I was 4 yo and never got back to actual earth wtf. 95x sp/so may be the most fucking boring thing on earth + it may bring a neurotic need to keep your little bubble untouched by real life and finding security in that bubble, to the point that you're actually missing out. Idk. I may *do* stuff to make me feel like I'm going around with people more but it doesn't really affect me that deeply so yeah... fuck all of this. It's not even the same as being stuck in your comfort zone? I guess it is but again I may at times challenge myself in some small ways and have new experiences but it's like nothing really reaches me idk.

Again, I usually prefer to go about stuff safely (aka not disrupting my little bubble too much), and in this way, I’ve always had way less regrets than her - so in this, I’m actually fine with my way of playing it safe. I like letting myself wear that pair of glasses when I feel like it and call it a day. I’ve always been content with very little...

Though honestly I’ve not been hanging out with her in years (at least 8 years, wow) and while I do hear from her I can’t say I can get to see how much she’s changed, lol

It was weird, you’d expect that with such a melodramatic friend the break up would be at least as dramatic, instead it has been quite the opposite - we simply slowly stopped reaching out to each other once we had nothing much in common anymore, and something else going on with our lives, lmao...

Also I mistyped her as a 4w3 in the past but it's so funny I got that little about the enneagram and IVs and somehow got her IV right at first try wtf I guess she's just that obvious

[imherongraystairstrash]

Hello there you beautfiul blog user and writer! If you are open to accept prompts or to get ideas to future fics may I suggest a fic of lil Christopher Lightwood and when their parents found out he needed some glasses? I love how well you write him

Hello beautiful Anon!! Thank you so much for the request! It's called August for literally no reason whatsoever, btw. Anyway here’s little Kit getting his first pair of distance glasses (as a user of said glasses, I’m drawing from personal experiences).

August

Characters: Christopher Lightwood, Gabriel Lightwood & Cecily Lightwood/Herondale

...

“Good, Kit,” Gabriel said from where he was kneeling beside the small boy. 

His son smiled up at him with wide, blue eyes—that looked lilac purple in the sunlight—and put down his bow. “Did I get it in the centre?”

“Almo—” Gabriel furrowed his eyebrows, “What do you mean? Can’t you see the target?” 

Kit squinted his eyes. “A tiny bit. But I can’t see the arrow.”

Gabriel’s confusion grew. “Son,” he said, standing and walking a couple of metres away from where he was standing. “How many fingers am I holding up?” 

“Three.”

Gabriel was indeed holding up three fingers. “Hm.” He said. “I guess you couldn’t possibly need new glasses.” 

Christopher shrugged. 

“Perhaps your current glasses are interfering. Here, take them off.”

Kit obliged. He looked at the arrow and fumbled with the string, trying to see where the arrow’s tail was. 

“Papa, I’m getting dizzy.” He said.

“Oh, then never mind, put them back on.” Gabriel said, quickly, not wanting Christopher to get a headache. 

Once Kit adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, both of them stood there, thinking about what they should do.

“Can we just continue training?” Kit asked.

“Yes,” Gabriel said, a relieved smile on his face.

…

“Are you teaching our five-year-old son how to shoot a bow and arrow?” Cecily asked from the doorway, a while later.

Gabriel glanced at her momentarily and nodded. 

Cecily leaned her hip against the doorframe and crossed her arms. “Is he good?”

“His form is exceptional, but he can’t seem to shoot it to the center.”

“Well,” Cecily said, walking inside and kneeling down beside her son. He did, in fact, have perfect form, something he somehow must have inherited from his father. “He doesn’t have to excel at it.” 

“Of course not.” Gabriel said. “I’m just confused.”

Kit shot the arrow and skipped over to the target. “It’s closer!” He said turning to his parents excitedly.

“Wonderfully done, Kit bach,” Cecily said, smiling widely. 

Gabriel sighed at how naturally Cecily could speak to their children and encourage them. Whenever he tried it, he felt awkward. Will sometimes teased him at times over how he couldn’t train children. Cecily told him to just treat them as though he were training adolescents or adults, that his children won’t think anything of him being less enthusiastic.

“Why is he walking up to the target?” Cecily asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“He says he can’t see it well.”

Cecily craned her head to look at him. “He probably needs glasses.”

“He already has glasses.” Gabriel pointed out.

“Other types of glasses, you nitwit. Ones for long distances. Didn’t that cross your mind?”

“It did! I even checked to see if he needed them.”

“How?”

“I held up some fingers and he could see them just fine.” Gabriel said, defensively.

Cecily gave him the you’re-a-fool face. “Of course he can bloody see your fingers! That’s not a proper test as to whether he can see or not!” she said, exasperated. 

“Then how do we test it?” Gabriel asked.

Cecily set Kit’s bow and took hold of his hand, pulling him along. “We leave it to the experts.”

…

He has Myopia as well as Hyperopia. I’d even say he is more nearsighted than farsighted.  

“What does that mean?” Gabriel whispered to Cecily.

“I don’t know,” Cecily mouthed.

Brother Jeremiah looked into Christopher’s eyes, and Gabriel had the urge to go to his son and spare him the sight. Christopher shifted from where he was sitting, trying to look at his parents. Jeremiah put a hand on his chin to keep his gaze on him, so that he could see his eyes better. Cecily took Gabriel’s hand as if to say, calm down; he’ll be alright.

Gabriel squeezed it back and watched as Jeremiah closed the lids of Kit’s eyes and hovered his fingers over them. 

He must have told Kit to open his eyes, because suddenly they flew open.

Gabriel didn’t understand the procedure The Brothers used for checking eyesight. All he knew was that after a while, Brother Jeremiah took Kit’s glasses and turned to Gabriel and Cecily, waiting for one of them to follow him.

Cecily used Gabriel’s knee to get up and went with Brother Jeremiah to get the glasses fixed while Gabriel stayed with Christopher. 

Gabriel walked over to his son and sat down next to him.

“Well, son, I’ll admit that I have no idea what’s wrong with your glasses.” He said with a half smile.

“I can’t see far away.” Kit said. “Myopia means my eyes are curved differently, so they can’t focus the light normally. So, I can’t see from far away as well as up close.”  

Gabriel turned to him, surprised. “How did you know that?”

“Uncle Henry explained it to me.” He said, shrugging. “I wanted to know why I needed glasses in the first place.”

Gabriel ruffled his hair. “You always know the right questions to ask, don’t you, ducks?”

He didn’t know how he ended up with a son like Christopher, who had such a sharp mind at so young. The reason as to why some people needed glasses had never crossed his mind, but Kit’s mind seemed to always be working, questioning why things and people were the way they were. Some people thought that Christopher was absent-minded, but Gabriel knew that it was because his brain was constantly working, not engaging in the current conversation, because it paled in comparison to what he was thinking about, or because there were too many things going on at once. 

He looked at his son, who was looking up at him with wide eyes and his head tilted to the side. He looked like his beautiful mother in that small gesture. 

“Can you even see me?” Gabriel asked, with a smile.

“Not really. You’re a little blurry.”

“Blurry.”

“A Papa-looking blur.”

Gabriel laughed out loud as Cecily came inside.

“We’re in luck,” She announced. “The Brother’s have temporary glasses with Christopher’s exact prescription that he can use while his are being fixed.” She came over with said glasses and carefully put them on Kit.

They immediately slipped down his nose. 

“I think they’re a bit too big.” Gabriel said.

“Well, it’s that or he doesn’t see.” Cecily said, laughing.

…

“Do you like Kit’s temporary glasses, Cecy?” Gabriel asked, knowing perfectly well that she adored them.

“He is the most adorable little thing that’s walked the planet.” Cecily said, glancing at Christopher, who was lagging a bit behind them, staring at the witchlight stones as they passed by them, walking out of the Basilias. 

“Enjoy it while you can,” Gabriel said, opening the doors for the others to go out, “next week he gets his actual glasses back.”

“Don’t remind me,” Cecily said mournfully.

Gabriel held out his hand for Christopher to take, and was surprised when he didn’t take it.

Gabriel looked down and realized that he wasn’t even there. “Kit?” he asked. 

Cecily and Gabriel both stopped and turned around. Christopher stood frozen a couple of steps behind them, his jaw hanging open as he stared up at the trees. 

“What’s the matter, Kit?” Cecily asked.

“I can see each individual leaf.” He mumbled. “If I wanted to, I could count them all!” He looked up at his mother with a huge grin on his face. 

Cecily had always had a soft spot for her son, but with the oversized frames on his small head, the bridge slipping down his nose occasionally, Cecily felt her heart melting. 

“You could,” she said, holding out a hand for him to take. “But then you’d miss all of the other beautiful things you can now see.”

Christopher took her hand, casting a long look at the tree before following her. 

There was a slight skip to his step as he looked around, taking in the world, his gaze always returning to the trees, which seemed to be the most fascinating revelation. 

“Are you going to go back home and practice archery with your father?” Cecily asked.

Kit nodded happily. 

Cecily didn’t think Gabriel really understood that Kit only really liked archery because it was time he could spend with his father. He was always nervous in anything that had to do with fatherhood, terrified that he’d end up like Benedict. 

Cecily had told him time and time again that his children will love him unconditionally, unless he gave them reason not to, but she also knew that it was hard for Gabriel. His relationship with his father was a mixture of love and abuse, the line between the two becoming so unnoticeable, that Gabriel had a hard time telling the difference. 

Cecily had faith in him, however. Especially as she looked at Gabriel and Kit in front of her, the latter sitting on the former’s shoulders, taking his glasses on and off, comparing the way he could see without glasses and the way he could see with them on. 

Christopher turned around. “Mama, I can see the entire world!” He held his arms out wide, a wide grin on his face, as though he were presenting its beauty.

Cecily laughed and put a hand on his back, “Yes, bach, the world is a beautiful place, isn’t it?” She looked at Gabriel. He took her hand, kissing the back of it and let their interlaced hands swing between them as they walked back home.

...

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[sisterspooky1013]

Damsels, Chapter Thirteen: You Changed My Life

By SisterSpooky1013 / Rated E

Read previous chapters here / Tagging @today-in-fic

Adult content immediately after the jump.

The trill of a cell phone pulls her from her dreamless slumber, and Mulder rolls out of bed with a hmph to retrieve it from the kitchen counter. Feigning sleep, she watches him as he traverses the room naked. The soft curve of his ass and then the rigid mast of his morning erection flood her with memories of what it had felt like when buried inside her, and she bites back a smile

“Mulder,” he says sleepily, searching for his underwear. “Good morning, Agent Wiley,” he continues as he slips on his shorts and then sits on the edge of the bed, leaning over to place a quiet kiss on her temple.

She opens her eyes, as though for the first time.

“Yes, she’s here, one second.”

He sets the phone on the bedside table and turns to kiss her again, on the mouth this time. Mulder kissing her awake is something she could definitely get used to. He stands and goes into the bathroom while she takes the call.

“Good morning, Agent Wiley,” she greets, not even caring if the other agent had heard them kissing.

“Morning, Agent Scully. Sorry to track you down on your partner’s phone, the one we assigned you was still off.”

“Sorry about that, it didn’t even cross my mind to turn it on last night.”

Mulder pops his head out of the bathroom with her toothbrush in his mouth and wags his eyebrows suggestively. She shoots him a look, but it’s discredited by the smile on her lips.

“Not a problem. I just wanted to share some updates with you. We spent quite a bit of time questioning Ricky Dean last night and while we still have some loose ends to tie up, it’s looking like we’ll be able to close this case pretty quickly.”

“Really?” she asks with surprise. She had figured the search for Mila would continue, and that Ricky might even be arrested. She’s relieved to hear that’s not the case.

“Mr. Dean had some additional documentation indicating that Mila was there of her own free will,” continues agent Wiley, “and it’s pretty compelling stuff. He also said that she left about a month before you got there, but he hadn’t yet updated the file. That, in conjunction with the documents you found, make us confident that things are as they seem, which is that Mila chose to cut ties with her parents. You were right, by the way, about Mr. Dean running a kind of witness protection program. The gentleman you had mentioned, Roger Keane, was acting as a benefactor of sorts, funding the women’s expenses until they had a steady income from the club.”

She’s quiet for a beat while this information sinks in. “What about Lexie, and her husband?”

“Mr. Hall is in custody and will likely be charged with attempted murder, on top of assaulting a federal officer. Jennifer is doing well. She’s awake, doped to the gills on painkillers, but expected to fully recover. She was able to get back in contact with her mother, who is caring for little Aubrey.”

“That’s a relief,” Scully says with a sigh. “Do you need me to come down to the station?”

“No rush, you can stop by this afternoon. I’ll be here.”

“Thank you, I’ll see you later,” she replies, ending the call as Mulder returns from the bathroom.

“What’s the latest?” He asks, slipping back beneath the sheets and pulling her into his arms. She hides her morning breath against his neck.

“They’re closing the case,” she says plainly.

“Must be pretty frustrating, knowing she was gone before you even got there,” he says, brushing his fingers over the small of her back.

“She was there, Mulder,” she lifts her head to look at him. “I lied.”

He gives her an incredulous expression and she rolls out of bed and steps into the bathroom. Switching the shower on, she brushes her own teeth with an already-wet toothbrush.

“I’m going to take a shower, I’ll tell you about it over breakfast,” she says before closing the door.

Twenty minutes later she has washed away the evidence of their activities the night before and they sit at her small dining room table, drinking coffee and eating the scrambled eggs and toast Mulder prepared as she tells him about Mila. She decides to leave out the part about their conversation on the couch; that’s something she will keep just for herself.

“I can see why you did what you did, Scully. It was a tough position to be in,” he says as he touches her arm reassuringly.

“I know it was the right thing to do, but it still feels bizarre to lie on an official case report,” she replies. “I hope she’s okay, wherever she is. She was a good friend to me when I really needed one.”

Three soft raps on the door interrupt them, and they look at each other in confusion.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asks, and she shakes her head.

“No one knows I live here,” she says as she creeps towards the door and looks through the peephole.

When she sees who’s on the other side, she gasps and makes quick work of the lock, pulling it open and ushering Mila inside with a relieved hug.

“Oh my god, I was so worried,” she muses, and Mila sinks into her, threading her arms around Scully’s waist.

“Queenie told me what happened,” Mila replies, tucking her face into Scully’s neck, “she said you lied and told them I was never there. I’m so sorry for what I said to you yesterday, Desi.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Scully reassures her, pulling back to look at her face.

Mulder clears his throat and Mila looks at him nervously, not having realized anyone else was here.

“This is my partner, Fox Mulder,” Scully introduces, and Mila nods at him, then narrows her eyes and looks back to Scully with a smirk.

“That’s the guy, huh?” she says playfully, and Scully blushes. “Look, Desi, I just came to say goodbye. I’m getting out of town. I just don’t feel safe here anymore. I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to do next, but I know my parents won’t stop looking for me.”

“We know some people,” Mulder interjects, “some friends, who can set you up with a new identity. For real this time, with a new social security number and everything.”

Mila’s expression brightens. “Really?”

Mulder nods. “Let me give them a call, you should be able to pick the documents up in DC this afternoon, if you can make it down there.”

He steps out of the apartment, heading to his car so he can contact The Gunmen, leaving Scully and Mila alone.

“So, I guess Desi isn’t really your name, huh? Or Diane?”

Scully smiles warmly. “My name is Dana. But you can still call me Desi if you want.”

Mila takes both Scully’s hands in hers, looking at them as she talks. “I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for what you did. I’m sure you could get in a lot of trouble if anyone found out.”

“It was the least I could do,” Scully replies. “I was there to help you, it just turns out the kind of help you needed was different than I thought. And you...Mila you changed my life.”

Mila looks up at her with wet eyes. “I did?”

“Yes,” Scully says, her own eyes pooling with tears though her mouth is smiling. “You helped me see myself. It’s the greatest gift anyone has ever given me.”

They look at each other for a moment, and it feels charged, like it did on the couch the other night. This time Scully breaks away, walking to her closet.

“I want you to have something,” she says, pulling down a lock box. “The code is two two three. There’s about fifteen thousand here.” She hands it to Mila, who looks at her with a stunned expression but takes it.

“I can’t take this, Desi. That’s insane.”

Scully shakes her head. “It’s all my tips. I don’t need it, nor do I want it. Please, use it to start over somewhere else. It would make me really happy.”

Mila nods, a soft smile on her lips. “Okay, thank you.”

Mulder returns just then, holding a receipt with notes scribbled on the back. “Okay, Mila, you’ll need to meet someone at the Lincoln memorial at 4:30 this afternoon. They’ll have everything you need and I promise, no one will find you this time.”

“Thank you,” she replies, then turns back to Scully. “I better go.”

Scully walks her to the door and they stand in its open frame, looking at each other for the last time. Scully pulls her into a hug and they linger there, rocking gently. When she pulls back, she doesn’t think, just presses her lips to Mila’s and kisses her twice before hugging her again. “Good luck,” she whispers into her ear, and then Mila is gone. Angel is gone.

Scully pushes the door closed, sniffing hard against her tearing eyes. Mulder is looking at her curiously, a thousand questions in his eyes that he has the good sense not to ask.

“Let’s go back to bed,” she says finally, and he turns his cell phone off this time.

[tlbodine]

The Great Content Warning Debate

Horror Twitter has been aflame for a few days now with heated discourse about trigger/content warnings, and I keep seeing the same arguments and questions and points come up repeatedly so I wanted to collect all of it into one place because I feel like discourse can only get so far if people keep reinventing the wheel -- so perhaps having the full discussion laid out in one place could be helpful.

Of course, the folks arguing probably won’t see this post, but perhaps there can be some benefit from talking about it anyway. This is intended to be more of an overview of arguments and counter-arguments, collected and displayed as impartially as possible, but of course my own opinions are going to leak in and color some of this. 

NOTE: This is written specifically from the perspective of the horror book community, a genre that traditionally is associated with troubling, transgressive, risk-taking and shocking works. There are discussions to be had for content labels on other types of fiction, but as I’m unfamiliar with the norms and expectations of, say, romance, I’m not going to wade too deeply into that here. 

So without further ado, the arguments and counter-arguments and discussion points that I keep seeing hashed and rehashed and circled around when the issue of trigger warnings comes up! 

If you’re sensitive, you shouldn’t be reading horror 

“Horror is supposed to be horrifying! It’s not fluffy bunnies and kittens! You’re supposed to be made uncomfortable!” 

There are a few problems with this: 

“Uncomfortable” is not the same as “Sent into a panic attack/flashback/relapse” (ie, triggered) 

People with PTSD and other issues can and do engage with horror all the time and often love the genre for entertainment or therapeutic purposes

Many people are fine with some types of content but not others; blood and guts won’t affect them the same as rape, or they’re fine with adults dying but can’t handle child death, and so on and so forth 

Knowing what you’re getting into can help you prepare/brace yourself so you’re not taken unaware; people with the right warnings can mentally prepare themselves and enjoy a book that they would not have been able to read if they were confronted with it unexpectedly

Trigger warnings are censorship 

Some folks have an implicit/kneejerk reaction that “trigger = bad thing” and respond to the request to put warnings on a book as a moral value judgment on the book’s contents. I can see why they might fear that, especially because at a glance it’s easy to conflate the groups asking for warnings with the groups who say things like “if your characters have underage sex then you the writer are literally a pedophile.” But by and large the folks asking for warnings do not seem to be asking for folks to stop writing certain difficult themes, only to provide a heads up for readers about the type of experience those readers can expect from the book. 

There is an argument to be made that warnings could affect the sales of a book, in much the same way that an NC-17 film doesn’t get the same distribution opportunities as an R-rated or PG-13 film, and that authors/publishers will make marketing decisions to include or exclude certain types of content in order to avoid this. 

Trigger warnings will spoil the book 

While some readers will benefit from content warnings, others might have their reading experience ruined by knowing about major twists. This seems especially relevant with a warning like “child death.” It’s very important that people who have, for example, recently lost a child not be unexpectedly re-traumatized by reading about a child dying without warning. But it’s also important that people who want to enjoy the full, shocking impact of such a scene have the opportunity to do so without having it dulled by forewarning. 

Any kind of warning system needs to be opt-in for a reader. Some suggestions include: 

Placing warnings at the end of a book, where readers can flip to that page to look (not helpful if you’re ordering online) 

Placing warnings on the author’s website, where readers can search (not helpful if you’re buying in person)

Given the limitations, a combination of those strategies seems to make sense. It may also be unfortunately true that someone looking for one type of warning (ie, rape) will have their experience ruined if they spoiler themselves for another warning (child death). This may be unavoidable collateral damage. 

Authors/Publishers should be responsible for putting warnings in their books

There seems to be some debate over whether the onus of responsibility for providing warnings rests on the author or the publisher. It should be acknowledged that authors may not always have the power to make this choice -- and if the presence or absence of warnings becomes a factor for judging the quality/moral fiber of authors, those authors could be punished by the reader community for a choice that was largely out of their hands (although, there’s still nothing keeping the author from hosting those warnings externally - how successfully that is implemented is another matter). 

Additionally, the demand for warnings will be placed more consistently on small presses simply because those presses are more likely to heed the request. This could create a double standard where readers might be more forgiving of large pub works that forego warnings because there’s no expectation that they would have implemented them anyway. On the other hand, this could be a way for indie publishers to differentiate themselves on the market and appeal more to certain subsets of readers. 

External groups or communities should be responsible for warnings

There’s a line of reasoning that an author or publisher may not be sensitive to the potentially triggering/damaging things in their work, and some kind of external governing body should manage this work instead. This does sound a lot more like the censorship argument that people are worried about. 

Wiki-style sites and places where people can freely tag books (such as Storygraph) also fit this bill to an extent. They would presumably have less power over the market than a ratings board like the MPAA, but could still exert influence over how a book is received. 

Demanding warnings will negatively impact marginalized authors 

We’re already seeing some evidence that BIPOC and LGBTQ authors are affected more by user-generated trigger warnings on sites like Storygraph, and that these warnings can be weaponized against marginalized authors. Much like review-bombing a book before it comes out can affect its launch, labeling a book with inaccurate trigger warnings could damage its sales. 

Similarly, lists of “safe” and “unsafe” authors have already begun to circulate among some groups, and there seems to be a disproportionate number of marginalized creators on that “unsafe” list -- at least according to the anecdotal reports I’ve seen. 

Historically, it is true that any attempts at censorship or content moderation will be more harshly applied to marginalized groups (see: film ratings for gay sex vs straight sex). 

It’s impossible to warn for everything

One hesitancy that some authors have with tagging their work is they’re not sure what to tag for. Triggers are highly personal, and there’s no way you can possibly guess what might upset a reader. 

Here’s a list of commonly agreed-upon things that might make sense to tag for in a given work: 

Violence/gore 

Suicide/self-harm

Rape/sexual assault

Domestic violence

Child death/endangerment

Animal death/abuse

Drug use/substance abuse 

Racism/slurs 

That said, it’s still difficult to account for context. At what stage do you warn for something? If a character is drinking a beer, do you need to tag for that? Do you distinguish between the tone things are written in, such as being played for laughs vs seriously? If the rape scene is written artistically/metaphorically, does the same warning apply as if it were described act-by-act in a clinical sense? What if your blanket list of warnings gives readers a false sense of what the book will be like -- is it actually helpful at all, or is it just posturing/virtue signaling to include warnings that won’t actually be effective?  

Some would argue that this is dramatically overthinking it, but this does seem to cause a great deal of distress to authors who want to do the right thing but worry about getting it wrong. An argument could be made that trying and failing might be worse than doing nothing, especially if your attempts get you labeled as a “trustworthy” or “safe” author only for that trust to be “betrayed” by a warning you used incorrectly. 

On the other hand, many would argue that we all “pretty much know” what needs to be warned for, and that warnings are intuitive. These granular questions could be viewed as a distraction from more common sense issues. 

Readers are responsible for managing their own safety

Ultimately, because it’s impossible for every potential trigger to be identified and warned for, readers will need to remain vigilant. Of course, there are already ways to identify the content of a book without any kind of established warning system -- such as, for example, reading posted book reviews, asking a question on a book’s Goodreads page, reaching out to the author directly, asking about the book in a reading group online or having a friend/parent/spouse/trusted person read the book first and report back with their findings. 

This is the system we’ve pretty much used as readers for years, before “trigger warning” became part of the common vernacular, and it does have some distinct advantages just because you can get a lot more specific information this way. 

It is possible that if warnings become more commonplace for books that readers may become less vigilant about their own safety, which could paradoxically put them at greater risk of finding troubling content unexpectedly. 

There’s also the issue of “safe” and “unsafe” author lists. At the moment, while the discourse is hot, it’s perhaps more natural to pick sides and disregard some authors for reasons that may be unfair -- for example, marking an author as unsafe or boycotting her work because she doesn’t want to include warnings, but she wants to avoid warnings because she strongly believes they will be detrimental to a reader’s safety. A reader may or may not agree with that perspective, but it’s certainly not the same motive as an author who would do something actively malicious to a reader (like, idk, emailing a screamer to a reviewer or something. that’s a made up example.) 

In the end, trigger warnings are a good idea, but the issue is complex to implement and some people do still have reservations about their overall efficacy. 

We simply won’t know one way or another until we try to implement it. But in the meantime, I do think it’s valuable to continue talking about this, as long as everyone involved remains civil and engages in good faith. Once people’s perspectives start getting thrown out the window in the heat of the moment, or strawmen arguments are erected that don’t reflect what anyone involved actually believes, the discussion ceases to be helpful. 

[forever-rogue]

A Good Man - Part 3

A/N: Hi friends, so I have a confession to make. I am a liar, a dirty, filthy liar because I said this would be 3 parts. Yeah, no, it’s gonna be more than that. I’m aiming for 5. But you never know apparently. So! Enjoy part 3 :) As always, comments and feedback is welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! xx

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Reader

Word Count: 7.4k (oops?)

Warnings: yearning, oh so much yearning; sm**ches

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Opening the brightly colored box of tea, you held it up to your nose and let the warm citrus and spice notes overwhelm your senses. Humming softly in content, you pulled out one of the sachets and delicately placed it into your favorite teacup, figuring that only the best would do. You read the back of the box, finishing just as the kettle started whistling on the stove top.

Grabbing it, you filled up your cup and made sure the bag was fully submerged, debating on adding just a drop of honey, but quickly decided against it and put the little bear shaped container back into the cupboard. Picking the cup up, you were planning on high tailing it back to your room, to avoid any sort of questioning from Sarah. She would surely be home at any time now, and you wanted to avoid any confrontation. 

"That's an impressive new collection of teas," her voice startled you so much that you almost sloshed the tea all over yourself. You had been so wrapped up in your preparation that you hadn't heard her come in at all...or she'd been extra quiet to try and catch you up to something, almost as if she could sense something was up.

"Yes," you gave her a dismissive look and made it a point to avoid her eyes as you tried to sweep past her.

You just knew she wouldn't let it go. No - that was not her style at all.

"These are all...uncommon," she commented and you swallowed the lump in your throat, "isn't that one tea shop in Austin the only place that sells this?"

"Huh, yeah, maybe so," you knew exactly where they were from. You'd paid the place a few visits yourself over the years; that's how you know the significance of the gift, "look, I've got a lot of homework to do, and this paper to finish up."

"When did you have time to go and get these?" you stopped dead in your tracks as you quickly tried to think of an excuse, a reason, somehow you could have gotten the teas without her knowing. And she knew damn well that you had been home all weekend, working away on various projects and your paper for Javier's class that you were determined to make perfect.

"It was a delivery," it was a quick lie, the first one that came to mind. You turned around and gave her a nonchalant shrug, "it was here when I got home a little bit ago. My mom sent them over, thought it was a nice treat."

"Your mom stopped over in Austin and sent them to you?" she could tell you were getting close to snapping, but was going to keep pushing and pushing until you broke, or she dragged the truth out of you, "and wrapped them with a ribbon? Where's the shipping box?"

"I threw it out already..."

Her hands were on her hips as she stared you down with a cocked eyebrow, your name rolling off of her tongue in an accusatory tone, "where did you get the teas?"

"Sarah, stop," you tried to be firm; resolute. Instead it sounded more like a plea than anything else, "it's nothing."

"If it's nothing, then tell me where you got these," her ocean gaze was searing as you let out a long breath and bowed your head slightly.

"Javi," you finally admitted, letting his nickname hang in the air for a few long, pregnant pauses, "they're from Javi."

"Holy shit," she said after a few moments, but all you could do was nod as you stared at your feet. It didn't sound so...normal when it was finally out in the air. Maybe you had both overstepped your boundaries. But, even if you did, you couldn't really find it in your heart to care, "he really likes you. Or he's got absolutely way too much free time on his hands."

"Should I not have accepted?" you felt silly, almost like a child getting scolded for doing something naughty. But you were both consenting adults, and neither of you had technically done anything wrong, "h-he had it waiting for me at my desk. I didn't know what else to do."

After the class had ended, and you'd spent the lecture basically staring at Javi and vice versa, you'd been determined to go and speak to him. But instead, your nerves had only increased as the time went on and you weren't even sure what to say, where to begin. Instead, you hastily packed up your bag and left along with everyone else, keeping yourself hidden in the zombie horde of other students. You'd felt guilty about it since, and hoped Javier wouldn't take offense...maybe he'd just think you had somewhere else to be right away.

"No, no, no babes," Sarah could practically hear the gears turning in your head as you thought of every negative outcome, every bad possibility, "that's not what I meant. I just meant that...obviously, there’s something to this all. Think about it - you don't just go out of your way like to keep up something special for someone you don't give a shit about. You know?"

"Yeah," you agreed as you set the cup down on the counter and ran a hand through your hair, "I know. It's just...I feel like that I like him...as more than a professor. Its definitely a crush, and I still barely know the man, but..."

"But you want to," she easily concluded as you groaned and threw your head back, staring at the ceiling as if you were begging it for answers, "there’s nothing wrong with that. You're just two people who happened to meet a certain way. Imagine if he was man that you'd met out one day, like a bookshop or while getting a coffee. You wouldn't be having reservations then, would you?"

"Most likely not."

"Then think of it that way," she insisted, stealing your cup and taking a sip of the sweet tea. She instantly made a face that suggested it was delicious, "just because he's a professor-"

"My professor!"

"Doesn't mean it has to be weird," she insisted, "in a few months he won't be your professor any more, and by the end of the school year you won't be a student anymore. Think of it like that."

"What if, and this is a big if, something were to happen between us, then what? He could lose his job," you couldn't think of doing that to him, no matter how much he didn't care about the position. It would never sit right with you, "I'm not...going to do that."

"Babes, nothing is going to happen," Sarah promised as she pushed the tea back towards you, "you don't even know his true feelings yet, although I believe my suspicions are correct. Talk to him, and see where it goes."

"I wish it was that simple," you took the mug and finally tasted the tea for yourself. It was divine; you wondered how carefully he'd chosen this particular kind, "I feel like I'm over complicating things."

"You are," she gently tapped your head and caused you both to laugh, "a classic over thinker...next time you see him, just go and talk to him. Everything will be fine."

"I could just call him," you murmured under your breath, more to yourself than anything else, but Sarah much have had supersonic hearing because her mouth had just about fallen to the floor.

"Excuse me?!"

"He...he gave me his number," your cheeks were surely a brilliant shade of crimson by now, feeling hotter than ever, "when I went to see him last week. He told me to call him if I needed help with my paper."

"Help with your...oh hell no," she was almost jumping with excitement at the revelation, "he totally didn't give you his number so you could call if you needed help. We all know exactly why he did it."

"Ummm...." you were at a loss for words, staring at the tea and the playing with the string attached to the sachet, "I guess not."

"Call him," she insisted firmly, "call him."

"Yeah?" you asked and she fervently nodded, her curls bouncing wildly. You bit the inside of your cheek as you slid off the stool and grabbed the tea, "maybe I will. But do not, and I mean this, do not listen in."

"Scout's honor," she gave you the three finger salute as you marched off to your bedroom, practically shaking with nerves at the possibility of calling Javier. Before you could close your bedroom door you heard her shout, "good luck!"

You could do this. You totally could. No if, ands, or buts about it. It was just going to be a friendly conversation ti thank him for the more than generous gift he had given. Right? Right.

Then why did you feel so damn nervous?

Your hands were practically shaking as you sat at your desk, pulling the phone towards you. Catching your reflection in the window, you let out a sigh at yourself and how panicked you looked, almost like a little deer caught in headlights. It was dark already, a small rainstorm had started earlier; the perfect environment for a cup of tea.

Picking up the receiver, you dialed Javier's number; you were almost embarrassed that you had it memorized it already, having repeated it to yourself so many times over the weekend. Pathetic, you bemoaned yourself, a pathetic girl with a silly little crush.

Once you dialed the number, you held the phone close to your ear waiting for baited breath to see if he would even answer. Maybe he didn't answer calls from unknown numbers. Maybe it could go to his voicemail. Would you even leave a voicemail? Should you? Should you have called from a blocked number? There were so many things spewing through your mind.

It rang and rang, seemingly endlessly, by just before you were about to hang up and let it go, he answered. His voice was still as warm and rich over the phone as it was in real life and a pleasant shiver ran down your spine as you listened to him say, "hello?"

"J-Javi? It's me," you said in almost a rush as you realized that he might not realize who me was. You sighed quietly as you said your name, wondering if you should cut your losses and hang up already.

"Hey," he seemed to relax slightly when he realized it was you, "how are you? Everything's okay, right?"

You tried not to grin from ear to ear at his question, mentally calming yourself down, "yeah, Javi, everything's fine. I just...wanted to thank you. For the tea. Its wonderful, truly, and I can only imagine the trouble you must have gone through to get it. I appreciate it, I'm drinking one actually, the citrus spice one, and its delicious."

"It was nothing," he promised but for some reason you couldn't help but think it was a lot more then that. It definitely was; if only you could have seen his face when he'd heard you say his name, "I just wanted to thank you."

"Whatever for?"

"Being the one student I've had in three years that gives a damn about the class," he said and you couldn't hold back your laugh. He liked that sound - he liked it a lot, "you don't know what it's like to go through this same bullshit all the time. Its nice to get a break from the routine, the norm."

"Thank you for helping me," it was weak trade off, but you were happy to give it to him. You were happy to listen to that warm, rich timbre any time, to watch those honeyed, syrupy eyes any time, "I appreciate you giving me your time. And I'm sorry for running out the way I did earlier.”

"Why?" he asked softly as he waited for your response with baited breath. He desperately hoped that he hadn’t scared you off for whatever reason, or come on too strongly, "why did you leave?"

"I wish I had a good answer for you," you cradled the receiver between your shoulder and ear, nervously twisting the cord between your fingers, "I got nervous. So I just left...I just...it wasn't you, or anything."

"Do I make you nervous?" Javi sounded almost...nervous himself. Worried? There was a quality to it that you hadn't heard before.

"No, not really," you admitted. It wasn’t Javi himself that made you nervous or anxious, it was all the ideas or possibilities or what could, of what this could turn into. You just hoped that you weren't about to make a fool out of yourself. How were you supposed to face the rest of the semester if you were completely wrong about this? You squeezed your eyes shut as you mulled over your next words carefully, trying to figure out what to say, "its just...I hope I'm not reading this wrong. Or making something out of nothing."

There was a sharp inhale of breath on the other side and you could just picture him, sitting at home, frustrated looked on his face. After a few moments of tense silence, you heard him again, "what do you think this is? What do you what it to be?"

"Javi..." you let his name hang in the air, trying to get your point across without needing to expand. Letting out a shaky breath you thought about just hanging up then and there. But no. You were already in too deep, "I...don't want to be just your student."

There was a tangible shift between the two of you as the air remained silent for some time. All you heard was a few shaky breathes on his end. You wished, desperately so, that you could see what was going on in his mind. Little did you know, Javier was sitting there, his stack of papers now long forgotten as he tried to retain his composure. He ran a hand over his tired face, almost wishing he hadn't asked, almost wishing you hasn't told him what he wanted to hear. This wasn't part of his plan. This wasn't how he was supposed to be a good man.

"Javi?" just when you couldn't handle the still, tension feeling hanging in the air, his name came out almost like a pathetic whimper.

"Are you free this weekend?" he blurted the question, not letting himself linger too much on it before he changed his mind, "maybe we could go and get a tea?"

A blush blossomed in your cheeks at his question, your stomach erupting in butterflies at the sheer concept of spending time with him outside of school. You realized you were nodding silently, before finding the proper words, "I'm free this weekend. I'd like that...a lot. Maybe we can even settle and get a coffee instead."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you almost whispered into the phone. Your voice was so soft and quiet that almost weren’t sure anything came out. But then you heard a soft sigh, almost like a relieved breath on the other side. 

"Great," he couldn't believe that this was happening, couldn't believe that he was getting nervous over all of this, like a schoolboy. He’s been out with countless women in the past, seemingly nothing phased him, but here he was, genuinely terrified, but excited at the prospect of what could be. He bit his bottom lip before deciding to make sure his intentions were crystal clear, "then it's a date..."

"Yeah," you agreed, begging yourself not to sound too eager or excited, “it’s a date. How about Saturday around one? I can meet you at the old cafe near the other side of town? I forget the name, but it’s the only decent one in town and they’ve got pretty good coffee.”

“You’re sure you don’t want the tea?” he joked and you felt some of the tension and nerves subside. This would be fine, everything would be.

“Positive,” you promised, “we’ll get tea next time.”

Your promise of a next time, that you were confident enough to think this could go somewhere was enough to make him realize that maybe this wasn’t a horrible decision after all, “how does that sound?”

“I’ll see you then,” you twist the cord of the phone so tightly, trying not to completely freak out. You had a date with Javier Pena. Granted, it was only an afternoon meet up for coffee, but a date was a date, and he’d confirmed it, “have a good night, Javi.”

“You too,” how was his voice this dreamy? You could listen to it for hours and hours, even if he would have been recited the phone book to you. Hell, you practically did that in his class every week anyways. You couldn’t wait to hear it, with no restraints, no pressures from being in your roles as teacher and student. To get to see him, just him, as he was, “good night.”

Slowly, almost reluctantly, you put the receiver back in its cradle, leaned back and staring at the ceiling. Holy shit. You had actually just agreed to a date...with your professor. 

Before you could actually think too much about it, your bedroom door slammed open and Sarah burst in, ambushing you from behind and you squealing into your ear. Your face warmed up as you realized that she already knew.

“Sarah!” you moaned at her, trying to hide your face out of pure embarrassment, “I told you not to listen in on my call!”

“I didn’t listen to your call,” she insisted, “I just sat outside your door and listened to your end of the conversation. That’s not technically listening in on the call, because I didn’t hear his end of the conversation.”

“Of course,” you playfully nudged her, “you would find the one loophole.”

“What can I say?” she seemed very proud of herself indeed, “I’m a pro. But you! Can you believe? A date with a hot professor. What a dream!”

“Please,” you grabbed her arm and looked at her with wide eyes, “don’t so much as breath a word of this to anyone. I just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea or anything.”

“I would never,” she promised, “your secret is safe with me, babes. But, I will expect a full report after your date.”

“Maybe...”

“I’m your best friend!” she pouted, “it’s girl code, practically the law!” 

“We’ll see...”

“You can’t bone the hottest professor on campus and not tell me!”

“SARAH.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Javier," Chucho shook his head at his son, watching as sweat dripped off of his face and neck. Javier spared him a quick glance, finishing up the fence post he was working on before wiping the sweat from his brow and catching his breath. He'd been helping his father to fix up his fence all afternoon, virtually wordless, but glad to be at his father's ranch again. Stevie had been ecstatic to come along, running around all afternoon and studying the various animals around the ranch and trying to play with them.

Javi had the day off, a rare occurrence these days, and decided to make the most of it, leaving early in the morning to make the several hour drive to Laredo. It had been some time since he'd seen his father, and he'd been itching to spend some time with him. He was completely breaking through every other one of his normal routines, why not do this as well? Despite being a man long grown, he still often turned to his father for his advice, and general comfort when be really he needed.

"What's up, Pops?" his hands went to his hips as Chucho came over and offered him a cold bottle of water.

"You've been working out here all day, barely said a word," he noted and Javi shrugged at his father's concern laced with all sorts of silent accusations, "are you going to come in and talk to me, mijo? Or are you just going to stay out here for the rest of evening?"

"I don't know what you're talking about papá," he wasn't even sure why he was lying to his father. He could read him like a book, almost better than anyone else. Chucho raised an eyebrow at him but shook his head, turning to go back inside. He beckoned for Javier to follow, which he begrudgingly did, feeling like he was a small boy again, about to be scolded for something or other.

"I made tamales," a little spring suddenly appeared in his step at the thought. He never bothered to cook extravagant meals or anything fancy for himself, so he was always glad to come home and get a warm, delicious meal, "your mama's recipe."

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javi piled his plate high with the delicious foods, gratefully accepting a cold beer from Chucho as he sat across the table from him. Before he could even get the first bite into his mouth before being interrupted.

"So, mijo, what's on your mind?" Javi groaned inwardly as he set his fork back down. He clasped his hands and rested his chin on them as he tried to figure how, and what, to tell him.

"Can't I just want to come and see you, papá,?" he asked with a noncommittal shrug as Chucho's brown eyed gaze remained fixated on him.

"Absolutely, you're always welcome," he answered, "but I am your father. I've known you since birth. I know when you've got something on your mind. Que pasa?"

"Papá,," he shoved a huge bite into his mouth and chewed on it, mulling over his words, "I'm just...I guess...thinking about things a lot lately."

"Colombia?"

"Sí," he swallowed his mouthful and slumped slightly in his seat, "there are times when it still hits me. At night, more than anything. I just can't help but think I could have done it all so much better. Cleaner. Less blood on my hands."

"What you did wasn't easy, mijo, it was never going to be," his tone was softer but Javier refused to acknowledge it. He'd gotten this speech at least ten times before from his father, and countless times from others, but it never made him feel better, "you did your best, you know that everyone knows that."

"I just can't help but think that things could have turned out differently," the image of Horacio Carillo killing the young boy, and countless others, without hesitation, directly in front of him were a frequent theme in his darkest dreams, "all those innocent lives that were wasted...when we were taking out Calí cartel, the wife of Franklin Jurado, you remember him right, she called me a piece of shit. She meant it, I could hear it in her voice. Sometimes I think she was right."

"You are not a piece of shit, Javier," Chucho insisted firmly, almost slamming his fist down on the table. He hated knowing that this was still plaguing his son, "you are a good man. You've done a lot of good for a lot of people. The work you did was good."

Javier scoffed at him at him as he just shook his head. He tried to be a good man, lord knows he was trying. But lately he was wondering how well he was doing that in the department, "it was a load of shit. We brought down Escobar and Calí for what? Just for more scumbags to come out and stake their claim? To show just how fucking corrupt our government and those in Colombia are? To show that that everything is completely fucked up and nothing will ever change? Yeah, I did that. It was good for a little while, soon it'll all go back to normal and nothing we ever did will matter."

"Javier," his head almost whipped up at the sound of his name, coming out so sharply from his father's mouth, "you didn't know better at the time, neither did Steve, or those two young ones you worked with in Calí. You did what you had to at the time. If you had known any different at the time, you would have it differently. You're a good man, Javi, you've always been a good boy mijito."

"I wish I could I see it that way," he took another bite, trying to get his father's words into his mind. He knew he was true, that he did his best with what he knew at the time. He always thought that the end justified the means, that sometimes in order to catch bad men you had to do bad things. But at the end of it all, he wondered if it all had been worth it. It had to be right? He had made a difference, he wanted to believe that his work wasn't for naught, "sometimes I wonder."

"Tell me, if you had know there was a different way to do things, would you have done it?"

"Of course," he nodded, taking a long drag from his beer as he wiped at his brow, "I would do whatever was best."

"Exactly," Chucho wished he could get his son to see him in the same light he saw him in. But he was hard, and he knew he could never truly know the full extent of Javier's inner torment, "there is no use ruminating on things that are in the past. You cannot change them now. You shouldn't dwell on things that are done. Your path is not behind you, it is in front of you."

"Lo sé," he agreed, finishing up the tamales on his plate and downing the rest of his beer. Even if he had a hard time believing what was he saying, it made him feel even minutely better, "it's just hard sometimes, you know?"

"I do," he agreed, "now tell, what else is on your mind? And don't tell me it's nothing, either."

Javi got up and grabbed his plate, bringing to the kitchen, rinsing it as he sat it down in the sink. He leaned against the counter as he contemplated getting himself another beer, but opted against it.

"I think..." gods, he felt like nothing more than an anxious child at this point, drumming his fingers along the aging counter top, "there's, well...I might have met someone."

"Oh?" this time Chucho almost gave himself whiplash as Javier refused to meet his eyes, instead focusing his attention on the floor, "a woman?"

"Sí," he answered.

"That's wonderful, mijo," the older man stood up and brought his own plate to the sink, and stood across from Javi. He put his hand on his shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze, "you deserve someone special. Especially after you'll been through. It would be nice to know that you have someone looking out for you."

"It's a little more complicated than that, papá," he'd already told him so much, he figured that he could probably just go on and tell him the whole truth. Nothing bad would come of...or at least he hoped it wouldn't.

"Please tell me she's not married..."

"No-"

"Is she pregnant?"

"No-"

"Then what's the problem, mijo?" Javier swallowed the nervous lump in his throat as he looked up and met the gaze of those wise, dark eyes.

"She's a student," he admitted, waiting for his father to yell at him, to freak out, or something. But instead, nothing came. Only a few moments of silence as Chucho waited for him to expand, "she's in one of my classes."

"What's the problem with that?"

"She's my student...she's younger..." he shrugged his shoulders, "it just feels off, I don't know."

"She's an adult, right?" he asked as Javier nodded, adding that she was a senior, "then what is the big deal? You're both consenting adults. Then there's nothing wrong with it. If you like her, Javi, and you think she's good for you, then go for it. Just keep a level head and do what's right. You know what to do son, your mama and I raised you right."

"You don't think I'm a horrible person for being interested in a student?"

"You're not the first and you won't be the last," he stated with a laugh, "what if you had met her at the grocery store or something? Would you be experiencing this  hesitation then?"

"No...not nearly as much anyway," he admitted. The age different might still have bugged him slightly, but he knew he could get over that, "I just don't want it to seem like I'm taking advantage of her because of my position or anything."

"She sounds like a smart girl-"

"How do you know?"

"She's interested in you, right?"

Javier snorted with laughter as light flush of color rose up in his golden cheeks. Leave it to his dad to be his best friend and biggest supporter. They'd butted heads numerous times over the years, but at the end of the day, Javier loved his father most of all.

"You've got a good head on your shoulders, son," he promised, giving him a gently nudge, "just be smart and make good choices. You always do."

"Papá," Javier let a small sigh as a smile worked it's way on his face, "gracias por todo."

»»————-　♡　————-««

You sat up, bolt right, trying to catch your breath, feeling impossibly hot, despite the chilly morning. Once you realized you were awake and in your own bedroom, you laid back down and staring at the ceiling. You'd just woken up from a dream starring Professor Peña and yourself in a very compromising situation; naturally though, your mind hadn't let you get to the best part, stopping just before you managed to get him stripped of clothing.

Groaning, you rolled over and glanced at your alarm, seeing that it was still much earlier than you would have liked.

Saturday morning had rolled around much sooner than you had expected, and your stomach was in absolute knots. Maybe you could still back out now?

But no - you wanted to do this. You wanted to see Javi.

Instead of talking yourself down, you slid your legs out of the bed and decided to spend the morning relaxing and taking the time to get ready and treating yourself to some much needed relaxation. You spied the outfit you had picked out the night before hanging from the back of your closet. You wondered if it was too much, or not enough...

It was a simple floral shift dress that you planned on pairing with a pair of your favorite chucks. It was still just warm enough it sport, despite being almost fall and you vowed to take advantage of the weather for as long as you could. The dress was innocent enough, bordering on too short and maybe slightly lower cut than it needed to be, but you liked it, and you hoped he would too. Not that it mattered...but still...the idea was nice.

Before changing your mind, or thinking too much about your decisions, you stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting it get hot before jumping in and scrubbing yourself from head to toe. You just want everything to go well. This was really important to you for some reason or another.

»»————-　♡　————-««

When you arrived at the cafe, you were early, despite your best efforts not to be early. You hadn’t wanted to appear too eager, but your nerves had gotten the better of you, and found yourself out the door earlier than expected. You’d even walked, making the decent trek to the other part of town, hoping it would kill more time, but apparently there had been too much spring in your step, and you’d arrived with some time to kill. Instead of ordering your drink already, you’d walked to the back of the cozy cafe, sitting at a small table and pulling out the book you were currently reading - you always keep one in your bag for situations exactly like this. The weather had slowly shifted, and it now looked like it was about to rain; you cursed yourself for walking, but the euphoria of the moment really won over. 

You sighed lightly as you looked around, watching all sorts of different milling about, going about their days. It was calm here, quiet and cozy, just like you preferred. Turning your attention back to your books, you attempting to read the page you had last ended on...but it was proving to be a challenge, and you ended rereading the same sentence about ten times before finally getting the gist of it and moving on. 

You weren’t alone long however, but had gotten absorbed enough into the book that you hadn’t noticed Javier appear across the table from you. He reached over and gently tapped the spine of your book, captured your attention and startling you slightly. He had a smile grin on his face as he watched your eyes widen in surprise, quickly closing the book and slipping it back into your bag.

“Hi,” your voice was but a mere, breathy whisper as you tried your best not to let your cheeks flush too much, “I-I hope you weren’t trying to get my attention for too long. I didn’t even think my book was that interesting!”

“I just got here,” he admitted as he studied you, his dark eyes taking everything in, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary on your chest, something you didn’t think was too intentional. He looked good, more casual than when he was teaching but still almost unfairly handsome. He was sporting a pair of jeans that hugged him in the all the right places, accentuated nicely by the black button up with the rolled up sleeves. He wasn’t wearing glasses today, but he still looked....so good, “how long have you been here?”

“A little while,” you said sheepishly, “I got here a little early. I wasn’t waiting too long.”

“Good,” he jerked his head towards the counter, “come on - let’s go and order. You look very pretty.”

“I, ugh,” you were instantly stammering over your words, trying to remain cool and composed. Instead you found yourself spewing out, “you too.”

“You think I look pretty?” he teased, and half of you expected to be embarrassed, but instead you just rolled your eyes at him and gently shoved his shoulder. 

“You know what I meant,” you bemoaned him, as he laughed and nudged you towards the counter. The woman behind the counter glanced at the two of you for just a moment, eyes flicking between you and Javier before settling on him, and zoning in on him. You had no doubt her thoughts were immediately all consumed by him. You wanted to roll your eyes at her and her obvious attempted to capture his attention, but stopped yourself. He must get this all time; but if he did, he didn’t let it phase him, keeping his gaze trained on you instead. 

“What are you having?” she grabbed a pen to take your order, making the most obvious eyes at Javier, who just ignored and put his hand on the small of your back.

“I’ll just have a black coffee, a little bit of sugar,” he told her before looking at you, attempting to guess your order, “and she’ll have a coffee with cream and sugar.”

You looked up and shook your head lightly, “close, very close. An iced coffee with extra cream and raw sugar.”

“I was almost there,” he insisted as he reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. You attempted to grab his hand to stop him, but he moved slightly out of your reach, shaking his head at you, and you decided not to argue with him, “I’ll have it right next time.”

Next time. You really liked the sound of that.

“Whatever you say, Javi,” you said in a sing-song voice as he handed the woman behind a twenty dollar bill and told her to keep the change. He followed you over to the pick up counter. 

“Extra cream?” he said as he watched your coffee being made. You stuck out your tongue and shrugged at him, “so you’re drinking some coffee with your milk, huh? And iced? Dios mio, you might as well stick to tea at this rate. This was not how coffee was intended to be consumed.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his mock tirade, watching his face shift through various expressions before your coffees were placed in front of you. Grabbing yours, you took a long sip and ended with an exaggerated ahh, “delicious. Better than that bitter bean water you’re drinking. Black? Do you hate yourself that much?”

“Not as much as you apparently hate yourself for drinking that poor excuse of a coffee. They would have roasted you in Colombia for that,” the last part slipped out before he could help, and he stiffened slightly, but you instantly relaxed when he noticed that you weren’t hung up on anything. You weren’t going to push him to talk about anything he didn’t want to; you’d already made that up in your mind a while ago

“That was a horrible joke,” you laughed as you slid back into your seat, and he took his place across from you. It was a small and intimate, a fireplace going somewhere near by, casting a light glow around the space and chasing away the chill from the cold, early fall day, “they would have roasted me? You should stick with your day job. And I’ll stick with my tea. I make a coffee exception once in a while, like today.”

“I don’t know how you do tea all the time,” he sighed dramatically, “I’ve been drinking that matcha I got in the mornings, but it’s just not the same.”

“You got matcha?” your eyes widened as you realized he’d taken your suggestion to heart. He took a long sip from his coffee and nodded, “it’s good though, right? Most tea is, just different from coffee. All the ones you got me are delicious...thank you for them, really. It’s such a thoughtful thing.”

“It was nothing,” he insisted, smiling so brightly that his dimple was on full display, “but I am glad you like them.”

“You should...try them sometime,” were you pushing the envelope too much? Did you really care? No, not really, “I-I have plenty, if you’re ever interested.”

“I’d be interested,” he said with a glint in his dark eyes, “I’d be very interested.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Being with Javi was easy; fun to the point where you almost never felt awkward, fun to the point where you were almost laughing the entire time, not questioning if whatever you had said was dumb or too much. He was kind, much more open and relaxed than he ever appeared in the classroom, asking you all shorts of questions about yourself, and answering whatever you wanted to know about him. Within reason. You hadn’t really broached the subject of his time with the DEA in Colombia, and while you were naturally curious, you figured if he wanted to tell you, he would. 

But it didn’t deter from the lovely afternoon you were having. He was animated, using his hands as he talked, his dark eyes expressive and lively. You liked him, how normal and easy this all seemed. You only hoped that he felt the same way about you. Little did you know that he did; he liked you very, very much. He loved how passionate you got when you talked about things you liked, how you had a habit of tapping your chin when you were searching for a word or an answer, how your eyes crinkled in the corners when you laughed, how you leaned in closer to him, listening to him and making him feel you truly cared about what he had to say.

When he realized just how much he liked your smile, he knew he was fucked. So fucked. But then again - so were you.

The day had quickly turned to evening, and it was almost completely pitch back outside. You cursed yourself for deciding to walk, knowing it would be horrible to get home. But as soon as Javier realized that you didn’t have your car, he insisted on driving you back to your apartment. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer; and frankly, you would have been loath to turn down his offer because you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. 

You gave him directions, he deemed you the worst copilot ever as you were horrible with directions, but eventually he found your place and pulled up front, turning off the car while the two of you remained in silence for a few minutes, neither of you wanting your time together to end. 

“Well,” you said finally, avoiding his eyes as you moved to open the car door, “I guess I better get going.”

“I can walk you inside,” it wasn’t a question, more like a subtle plea. Shifting in your seat, you found him watching you with a hopeful expression etched on his features. Biting your lip, something that Javier had noticed you had a tendency to do, you almost drove him crazy. If only you could see how beautiful you were. Nodding, you opened the door and stepped out, waiting for him to come to your side before walking in the direction of your apartment. 

Deliberately making each step as slow as possible, you could feel how warm he was as he walked alongside you. When you reached your front door, you sighed lightly, “well, this is me. Thank you for today...I had a really good time.”

“I did too,” he said gently, his eyes softer than you had ever seen him. You wished there was a way to convey to him just how much, how terribly much you had enjoyed his company, and how reluctant you were to say good night.

You watched each other for a few moments, feeling your heart race as neither of you made any move to leave. But then - suddenly - before you could fully process what was happening, Javier put his hand on either side of your face and crashed his lips onto yours, kissing you with intensity, a searing passion that you took your breath away. You wrapped your arms around his neck, carding a hand through his dark locks as his hands found purchase on your waist and pulled you close. 

His touch, his taste, his smell, everything combined in a way so delightful that you’d never experienced before; surely this was what sheer bliss was like. He felt perfect against you, there was no fumbling awkwardness, instead it felt like the two of you had been doing this forever. He break apart from you only when you were thoroughly breathless, feeling drunk off his kisses. 

Javier studied your face, your eyes wide and lightly swollen lips as he wondered if he’d just made a huge mistake. A million thoughts were running through his mind as he tried not to panic, and reminded him that surely, he couldn’t have read the signs all wrong. But when your expression slowly turned into a shy little smile, a warmth heating up your skin as you looked at him with the sweetest eyes, he knew he hadn’t made a mistake. He reached over you and brushed a stray lock of hair out of your face.

“Umm,” you breathed out as you rode out the euphoria of the best kiss you’d ever had, “I...wow. Javi...I had a great time today.”

“Me too,” he agreed, already beginning to miss the feel of your lips against his. He let out a small laugh, almost not believing his luck as he shoved his hands into his pockets, “I hope you have a good night, dulzura.”

“Good night, Javi,” you beamed at him as he slowly turned around to head back to his car, watching until he was just to make sure he was safe...and to admire the view of course. He gave you one last wave before you unlocked the door and stepped inside, leaning against the door and trying to calm yourself down. Despite your best efforts, a small squeal of delight pass through your lips. Bringing a hand to your lips and tapping your fingertips along them, you could tell they were plump and plush from all of his kisses. 

Holy shit. This had actually happened. This was all a reality.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[misslilli]

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Chapter 11 - Friday Night's Alright For Fighting

[ FM ]

On Friday, it’s Felix’s mother’s turn to pick him up from school since he’ll be spending the weekend at her place. I briefly wonder if he’ll tell her about his new-found admiration for the enigmatic Miss Scully and for just a little bit, the petty side of me wishes he would. It’s not that she’s a bad mother per se, but she never shared a strong connection with our son and ever since the divorce, it somehow got worse instead of better.

Felix took the divorce pretty hard, lashing out at me and the teacher and kids at kindergarten. There were times when I couldn’t even recognize my own kid. Because of my background in psychology, I tried to talk to him countless times but I finally had to admit that I was too emotionally involved to really help him. So we began to see a therapist back in Washington, D.C, him and I. His mother refused to participate because “He never acts out when he’s at my place, Fox, seems to me like that’s a you-problem.” That day, only the thought of what would become of my son if I went to jail had kept me from murdering her on the spot.

We don’t stay in contact much, except for negotiating pick-up and drop-off times for Felix, and that’s about all I can handle from her. The custody battle was a hot mess, not because she particularly wanted to keep Felix, but she used it to humiliate me, dragging my abilities as a father and caretaker through the mud in front of a judge and our lawyers. I tried to keep Felix out of the court hearings, putting my foot firmly down when her lawyer suggested that we could just ask the child where he wanted to live. He was three years old at the time, fat chance I was going to let that happen.

Thankfully, we were able to convince the judge that I was willing and more than capable of caring for our son and that me working from home was a more child-friendly environment than his mother’s job, which takes her out of the country several times a month.

I take off my reading glasses and close my laptop, this trip down memory lane has put me in a sour mood. After putting away everything work-related for the weekend, I stretch my arms over my head, contemplating what to do with my free time. I don’t have any friends here yet and since I can’t meet anyone at work, I decide to walk down the street to the harbor.

The streets are pretty busy with locals and tourists alike and as I walk past the crowd that stand around the rock that marks the place where the pilgrims debarked the Mayflower back in 1620, I think to myself ‘Guys it’s just a rock. In the ground. Walled in on all four sides.’ I was pretty disappointed, if you couldn’t already guess that.

I continue my walk and pass the dock where you can usually see the Mayflower II anchored, swaying with the waves of the Atlantic. She’s an accurate and beautiful reproduction of the original ship with which the pilgrims had sailed to America, founding Plymouth Colony after 10 gruesome weeks at sea.

Currently though, the dock is empty safe for a few seagulls harassing the tourists – they have taken the ship to a shipyard in Connecticut for restoration, much to Felix’s chagrin. When he heard that we were going to move here, he spent countless hours reading up on the history of Plymouth, the Pilgrims and everything that happened afterwards. He got a real kick out of imagining the American Protestors and the British Government officials dressed up in frilly dresses and huge feathered hats, actually having a fancy tea party instead of the Boston Tea Party, which escalated the American Revolution in 1773.

His special interest, though, had been captured by the Mayflower, which is not surprising because he loves anything that’s big and can transport people or cargo. Planes, helicopters, trains, you name it, but especially ships. On the first night in our new house, he insisted that we leave the boxes packed for now and head down to the harbor, right now.

At first, always the responsible adult, I refused, but he didn’t let up, resorting to pleading with me, then he practically begged me and when I still wouldn’t budge he went in for the kill with his puppy-dog look and a pronounced pout. I could see the tears welling up in his eyes. Damn, he was using my very own look against me!

The tears still came a little while after, when we reached the harbor and found the dock deserted. I wanted to kick myself for not checking if the ship was actually there or not and I had to carry a bawling, devastated Felix back to our house. He only stopped crying when I promised him that we’d go see the Mayflower II the very second she sailed back into the harbor.

After another, more pleasant, trip down memory lane, I had reached my destination: The Cabby Shack, a local bar and restaurant that is made up of an inside bar downstairs and two large decks, the lower one housing the outside bar, the upper one the restaurant.

Making my way through the crowded room, I spotted an empty seat at the bar and ordered a drink aptly named Islands of Misfits. I snorted out a laugh at how accurately it described my situation right now. Island of Misfits alright, inhabitant: 1.

I took a sip of my drink and twirled the tiny umbrella between my fingers when out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone take the seat next to me at the bar.

“Islands of Misfits, huh? Must be bad!” Looking up, I’m surprised to see that it’s Walter Skinner, my son’s principal.

“Yeah, sort of. Sorry, hello sir, it’s nice to see you!” He shakes my hand briefly and orders himself a whiskey on the rocks. Had I been a more insecure man I would’ve felt stupid for my drink choice, but as it was, if I like my drinks sweet and with a cutesy umbrella in it, then that’s what I’ll have. And don’t you dare forget the fucking umbrella!

“So Mr. Mulder, what is it, love troubles?” As a born and raised city boy I have yet to come to terms with small town frankness but I like Principal Skinner and his lack of beating around the bush.

But still, I couldn’t exactly tell him the whole truth, I don’t think he’d appreciate a Actually yes, sir, I’ve been staring at one of your teachers for every damn day of the week and when I’m not busy staring at her, I think about her all the time. I wonder if her kisses taste like strawberries and what her hair smells like. I’m driving myself slowly insane by imagining running my tongue over the spot where her neck meets her shoulder and let me tell you about the dreams I’ve been having real quick. Yeah that won’t fly.

First, he’d kick my ass into the sixth dimension and then he’d have me arrested for gross misconduct or worse, sexual harassment. Even though I’m not sure if that’s really applicable when it only takes place in your mind, it’s still inappropriate as all hell and I’m not going to test out my little theory. I don’t think I’d fare well in jail, to be honest.

So instead, I opt for a more appropriate half-version of the truth. “Yeah, sort of. I had a huge argument with my ex-wife over the phone when she was late picking our son up from school. If I had one, I think my swear jar would be able to buy me my own Island of Misfits. And what’s even worse is that I think my – our son was there to hear at least her end of the fight.” I take a miserable sip from my drink.

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Mr. Mulder. Your son’s name is Felix, right? He’s in Miss Anderson’s first grade?” Thankful for the slight change of topic, I nod.

“Yes, sir, that’s him. We got off to a rocky start but after the first week, he really loves going to school, Mr. Skinner.” The other man shakes his head and offers me his hand once again.

“Please, call me Walter. Outside of school only, of course, you understand.”

I grab his hand and give it a brief shake, smiling wryly. “Of course. I’m Fox but I make everyone call me Mulder. Even my parents. I hate my name.” He huffs out a laugh at that and I can tell that it’s a rare occasion.

“I get the feeling you’re in need of a friend on your island, Mulder not Fox.”

That I do, indeed.

Island of Maybe not such Misfits, inhabitants: 2.

Chapter 12 - A Rainbow In Its Natural Habitat

[suzukiblu]

Fic Writer Meme

Tagged by my dear @dancinbutterfly, and like, obviously I will take any excuse to talk about writing.

.

1) how many works do you have on ao3?

168, although a few of those are podfics that the podficcer credited me as a co-author on. Actually less than I would’ve expected, tbh.

2) what is your total ao3 word count?

1,431,989. Honestly also kinda less than I would’ve expected at this point. I will blame all those old fics I never brought over from LJ and ff.net for this expectation.

3) how many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

I literally cannot tell you, the ancient ways have been lost to me. I can give you my Ao3 fandoms, though!

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Overwatch

The Witcher (Netflix)

Young Justice (Cartoon)

Animorphs

Star Wars

Good Omens

Venom

Fantastic Four

Leverage

League of Legends

Daredevil

Supernatural

Care Bears

World of Warcraft

Spider-Man

X-Men

Slender Man Mythos

Additionally, long ago: Naruto, Gundam Wing, Digimon, Ranma ½, Bleach, Inu-Yasha, and many scattered other fandoms of my youth. So, so many others. So I’ve written for 25+ fandoms, at least.

4) what are your top 5 fics by Kudos.

a mark, a mission, a brand, a scar (13004)

I once started out to walk around the world but ended up in Brooklyn (8450)

it’s a long way forward (so trust in me) (6965)

oh don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me (6818)

if the bad times are coming let ‘em come (5362)

5) do you respond to comments?

Not really these days, though I hoard and treasure them like a freaking DRAGON. I used to respond to all of them but sometimes I’m just not around and then it becomes awkwardly late to reply and also they kinda . . . pile up a bit. I do try to answer all the comments with questions in them, at least, as long as the questions aren’t literally spoilers or anything like that.

6) what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don’t usually write super-angsty endings, I think? I don’t FEEL like I usually write super-angsty endings, anyway, at least not these days. I think I did it more often when I was more into, like, drabbles and shortfic. Now I just spend way too long on stuff to give it a downer ending.

The most recent angsty ending I can think of is wanna hold him, maybe I’ll just sing about it, though eventually I did write a sequel to that to soften the blow a bit. And also torment people a bit. Both, technically. Technically both.

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

blondes really do have more fun, definitely. It’s very . . . giddy, I guess? What with the gender euphoria and all. There’s angst and heavy emotions in the actual plot but the highs of the happy parts/ending are probably the highest/happiest ones I’ve written, and Supergirl gets everything she wants without having to compromise or give up anything else.

8) do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I write fusion fic more than crossovers, really, but I have written a LOT of fusion fic. Some of it has been weirder than others, tbh, but probably the Avatar: The Last Airbender/Animorphs fusion that I have been lovingly slaving over deserves to be this answer if only for how much extremely sincere effort I have put into it over the years.

9) have you ever received hate on a fic?

Mild hate, but occasionally. I don’t really tend to remember negative comments, tbh, though it does sometimes make me not want to reread the comment section I know they’re in. But a lot of the hate I’ve gotten in the end just seemed like socially-awkward people being unnecessarily blunt instead of just hitting the back button, so I try not to take it personally. Can’t please everyone. Don’t WANT to please everyone, frankly.

10) Do you write smut? What kind?

Yes, and the kind is “a lot”. Sometimes I don’t really feel like it but definitely I have done a lot of it. I try for Feelings and also to be safe, sane, and consensual as much as I can.

11) have you ever had a fic stolen?

I . . . am not sure? Though probably, after being at this for all this time. Someone once told me that someone picked up a fic I’d (at the time) abandoned and just started writing/posting more of it without asking or telling me about it, but I never actually found said fic and I don’t know if that technically counts as “stealing” anyway.

12) have you ever had a fic translated?

A few times, yup, it’s pretty gratifying! I also like to run them back through Google Translate and see what they say, haha.

13) have you ever co-written a fic before?

yoooo @dancinbutterfly, @rainnecassidy! Also done it with a few other people long, LONG ago, but that was back in the LJ era. Don’t think I’ve technically collabed with anyone else lately, although sometimes people will give me ideas for stuff I’m writing or offer suggestions when I’m stuck on a thing, which is very helpful.

14) what’s your favourite ship?

Like . . . per fandom? ‘Cuz we could be here a while. Most recently it’s Jaskier/Geralt, for a while it was Aziraphale/Crowley, DEFINITELY for a while it was Steve/Bucky . . .

You know, I guess technically my all-time favorite ship is actually Naruto/Sasuke, because I made a LOT of friends in Naruto fandom and it actually hugely influenced the end of my teenage years and beginning of my adult life and so, SO much of my writing. So like, if nothing else it wins on influentialness.

15) what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Let ‘Em Come. @rainnecassidy and I wrote that AU a long-ass time ago now and I never did my half of the sequel fic because I got too distracted with another longfic I was working on at the time and then took a real long fandom break. I always felt kind of bad about it because people seemed to bother her for said sequel more than they bothered ME for it, since her fic was the last posted part. Unfortunately I just don’t have the spoons or the MCU-focus for the research and effort it’d take anymore. Also, like . . . it’d probably be pretty long, so unless I was REAL obsessive about it it’d take a good long while.

Basically I think its time has just passed at this point, alas.

16) what are your writing strengths?

Sex, action, snark, and weird fusion fics. Also making people love things they usually hate, that’s one I get told a lot.

17) what are your writing weaknesses?

Fitting physical descriptions of . . . literally ANYTHING into the story. Just, anything. Physical descriptions are hard.

18) what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

I try not to do it, personally, because I know soooooo very little about other languages. Sometimes I’ll sprinkle in a little bit of it, but usually I feel like it’s better to avoid it, personally.

19) what was the first fandom you wrote for?

I literally could not even tell you. The first fandom I REMEMBER writing proper “fic” for was . . . Ranma ½, I think. I thiiiiink. But that was a long-ass time ago and I never even posted it anywhere because those were the days when I despised typing things up beyond all measure, hah. And before that I remember writing Animorphs . . . comics? Storyboards? Something like that. Kind of a cross between the two.

20) what’s your favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I do not know! There’s really just too many, tbh. Some top options are you found me when no one else was looking, best friends means you get what you deserve, clay kids, Avamorphs, handmaiden!Anakin, oh don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me, and . . . and I could go on for a dang MINUTE, honestly, haha, I’m just gonna stop myself here before I get too carried away.

.

I tag whoever happens to be reading this that wants to be tagged; have fun with it!

[yourehomesickiunderstand]

About/Rules/Verses

Hello, and welcome to my Bofur RP blog. This post is a HUGE wall of text, if you are on desktop and would like to see it a little tidier, please see the separate pages in the sidebar to the right. 

Promo Post Found Here

About the Mun

1. Firstly I am over 30, own a house, have a husband, 1 baby, 2 cats, and a wealth of commitments and responsibilities. I will do my best to reply in a timely manner, but will state up front that sometimes life gets in the way.

2. I am in EST and work M-F from 9-5, plus a half hour commute. Please understand that I can not post from work, and will not be posting during those times.

3. In addition, I am Mom to a very active toddler who is my priority over writing and who’s nap schedule tends to dictate when I can post.

4. My native language is English, though I can understand French, and a little bit of Spanish and Japanese. Don’t bank on me carrying on a decent conversation in any of those languages though.

About the Blog

1. When I first set up this blog I didn’t realize that secondary blogs can’t follow back, ask, or submit. My main blog name is Saffity, so if you see that blog follow you, it’s me. If I send an ask or submit, I will mention this blog name so you don’t get confused.

2. My inbox, ask, etc. is open. Please feel free to write me any starters, questions, or whatever.

3. Please send any critiques or suggestions to me. I’ve been on Tumblr forever, but have never really been a poster. If you see me doing basic noob mistakes with my posts that can be easily fixed, please let me know.

4. I will be tracking #yourehomesickiunderstand so please use that tag with our threads.

Mun’s Playing Style

1. I prefer my Bofur straight. I understand Boffins and other ships and have no qualms with them, I’ve been known to enjoy a good fluff fic once in a while, but this Bofur is straight.

2. Please send me an ask or fan mail if you would like our characters to have an already established relationship, I’m totally cool with it. I respond to all cannon characters as known as it shows in the books or movies, but if you are an OC and want something other than a “Nice to meet you” please let me know first.

3. I’m willing to do some fluffies, but not full on smut, if the thread calls for smut (which will often happen), I’ll fade to black when I’ve gone as far as I feel comfortable with. (Don’t worry, I’ll fade when I’m ready, you’ll never get any angry messages from me about going too far.)

4. Bofur here is multiverse, au, indie, whatever you want to call it. I’m sure he’ll fit into whatever crossover or world you decide to drop him in, he’s very easy going after all.

5. I tend to write in the past tense, third person. If you’d prefer a different style, just let me know and I’ll try to accommodate.

6. I’m bad with my images, so bad! I’m still figuring everything out, so if I’ve royally screwed something up, please let me know and I will delete and repost correctly.

7. I am super okay with editing anything I write if it doesn’t jive with your character or where you want the plot to go, please just let me know.

8. I mainly play on mobile, as such, I’m not able to cut my posts down. Please do so whenever you feel the need/want, I won’t be upset.

Head Cannons that go across all verses

1. Bofur has a Northern Irish accent and his hat, always his hat.

2. Bofur has named his hat Bundushathur, which in Khuzdul means “Cloudyhead” and will sometimes refer to his hat as a sleeping rabbit. If Khuzdul does not exist in the verse (like Modern) then the hat is called Cloudyhead and still referred to as a rabbit.

3. Bofur is the everyman, he isn’t special or high born. He is good natured, friendly, and the world’s best wingman, even if it means connecting someone he pines after with someone else. He would rather see them happy and keep their friendship than try to force his feelings on them or lose their friendship because of his pride.

4. The main characteristic about Bofur is that he is unimportant in the hierarchy of society.

Main Verse - The Hobbit/LOTR

Bofur is 4'6" but fairly thin for a dwarf.

Bofur is a dwarf who’s family line comes from Moria. He is of the mining class. He was born and raised in Ered Luin with his brother. Shortly after Bofur became an adult, his parents died, leaving him to raise his brother. Shortly after that, Bifur was injured in an orc attack. Bofur and Bombur took Bifur in, however there were a number of difficult years as they all got used to Bifur’s new personality.

Once Bifur was stable enough, the brothers decided it would be a good idea to head out and find new customers for their skills. They ended up at Bree, opening up a shop to sell Bifur’s fabulous toys, and offer tinkering services.

During their stay in Bree, Bombur got married to a passing female dwarf and moved his overly large family near the shop. Bifur and Bofur live together in living quarters at the back of the shop, Bombur lived with them until he got married.

Bofur travels around Middle Earth, usually west of the Misty Mountains, and most often between Bree and Ered Luin by way of the Shire. He collects supplies, sells wares, and visits many friends and family that are about the lands.

When Thorin calls for assistance in taking back Erebor, Bofur and his kin lock up their shop and head for the Shire.

After the quest they settle in Erebor, though Bofur heads back to Bree to close up their shop and settle accounts prior to settling in for a long life of enjoying his 14th share of the treasure.

Head Cannons that can totally change if my partner is a Bifur or Bombur

1. Bofur’s father was killed in Moria at the battle of Azanulbizar, his Mother died in an Orc attack when Bofur was in his 40s. He has taken care of his brother ever since.

2. Bofur took Bifur in after Bifur was orphaned as well, the three are like brothers, having shared the experience of loss and growing up together.

3. Bombur stopped speaking after their mother died. Bofur’s tried to get him to speak, and has managed to get him to speak sometimes, but usually just small replies and often with much prodding. Bifur and Bombur use the same sign language to speak to each other and those who don’t speak Khuzdul. Bofur takes care of both of them and is the one who speaks to customers.

Modern Verse

High School

Bofur is not popular, though he’s friendly and basically knows everyone. He enjoys shop class, classical music, and historical literature.

Studious and hard working, Bofur can often be found with his nose in a book, when not sitting on the bleachers playing the tin flute he always has on him.

College Student

Bofur is a TA in college. His major is historical literature, and his goal is to eventually become a professor. His passion is delving into historical fanatasy from cultures other than England and Western Europe.

He enjoys learning languages in order to read what he is researching in its original state.

General Modern Adult

In most modern adult verses Bofur is a general labourer, most often a janitor. If he is a teacher, he teaches music and drama.

Ice Cream Shop

Bofur runs a small home made ice cream shop that is part of a coffee shop run with a companion or family member (his partner can be any member of the company). He makes a variety of flavours, and offers lactose and gluten free varieties.

He prides himself on being able to guess his customers’ favourites on sight (like the movie Chocolat).

Marvel

Bofur is a janitor within shield. He can be found on the helicarrier, within the Avengers training base, or basically anywhere the heroes may be destroying things that need to be cleaned up.

While he is quiet and without powers, he has wisdom and a patient ear to lend to those supers who require a moment to vent.

Star Trek

This is the only verse where Bofur stands out. Bofur is a red shirt, but by some miraculous turn of events, he has gone on a number of away missions and made it back alive. Poor Bofur would love to get off the enterprise with his life, and shirt, in tact, but it appears some of the higher officers like to see him lose his mind and suggest him for more away missions, even if only in jest.

Head cannons that exist in all modern verses

1. Bofur and his family are from Northern Ireland, though Bofur travels around, goes to school abroad, and in general can pop up anywhere in the world.

2. Bofur is short for a male - 5'6", with a stocky build, and fairly strong.

3. Bofur’s younger brother Bombur is still at home (or married with kids depending on their age).

4. Bofur’s parents took Bifur in after he got injured during Armed Forces training, as Bofur’s family lives closer to the rehab resources that Bifur requires.

[sideblogformindtrash]

CW: Dehumanization; mentioned torture; pixar pliz don’t sue me;

Previously

…The locks had been changed, but that never stopped Former Hero before, and Sidekick knew it. Yet, what he wasn’t expecting was to see them coming in with no trouble, with a fully-functioning key.  Specially not at that moment, when A was already stressed and scared, crying their eyes out.

They gave Sidekick a scared looked, and Sidekick soothed them with a hug, telling them to go to the living-room, they would deal with Former Hero themselves. Hero A nodded and quickly escaped to the other room.

Former Hero smiled when they saw Sidekick, entering with an enormous amount of groceries in plastic bags. So much for saving the oceans.

“…Hello there Sidekick! Long time no see!” they smiled.

“Former Hero” They said, in their most serious lawyer tone they could manage “What are you doing here?”

“Bringing in the groceries” they casually replied, starting to put things on the fridge “…And to clean as well. But it appears to be clean this week, did you do it?”

“…Yes. I’ve been helping A.”

“Good! I knew we were like-minded” Former Hero smiles at them “… I guess we have time for two movies today!”

“No, Listen, Former Hero, I’m not sure what is your goal here but you need to leave A alone.”

“What? No. They would end up living on a pile of trash and eating frozen food only. Besides, it’s movie night.”

“A is an adult, they can take care of themselves, and besides, I’m here to help them now. You need to leave them alone. You are just making A stressed.”

“You sound like a jealous partner, Sidekick!” they chuckled, losing the fridge and moving to store stuff on the cabinets “Weird, I thought you were quite liberal on that regard…”

“This… This is really not about that” they sighed, trying to remember what strategies they used to need when trying to make A just… understand something “They think you are spying on them for Villain.”                                                                                                                                                                 

“What, fuck no” they frown “The last thing I’d do is let my Master have interest in any pet other than me. I slipped one time with A, sure, but never again.”

“And I am the jealous one?” they whisper to themselves “Why are you doing this, Former Hero?”

“I want to help A, of course. I find it sad that they got so traumatized even tough Villain is so basic.”

Sidekick frowns, unsure what the hell they are even talking about.

“Basic?”

“You know. Standard pet stuff. Eat on the floor, put on this leash, whip, knife… They aren’t very creative” they sigh “But Master is getting better. For me, of course. And I don’t want them to be on anyone’s nightmares, so A has to get better too.”

“I… Have no clue what you are even saying” they cross their arms, trying to appear menacing “But you are causing troubles. You need to leave.”

“Oooooor elsseeeeeee?” they smile, puppy-eyed, throwing Sidekick complete off-guard. So much they don’t notice that Hero A is back, peeking into the kitchen from behind the living-room door.

“What the hell” they sigh “Haven’t you taken enough of my life already? You really have to be ruining Hero A’s life too?”

“Oh come on, you liked being my sidekick! Fighting crime was your dream!”

“As an attorney, not as some freak Sidekick!”

“Y-you w-were t-their s-s-idekick?” A small, shaky voice.

Sidekick turns around abruptly, facing the wide-eyed Hero A.

“N-no! I mean…. I was but…”

“Ooooooh you didn’t tell them!” Former Hero voice is all but a scream, and A flinches a bit “And I am the evil one here?”

“I-is it t-tt-true S-Sidekick?”

Sidekick sees the fear in A’s eyes. Damn. That was exactly what they were trying to avoid by not telling them!

“It… It is” they confess, feeling ashamed “But… We can talk about this later, okay? I’ll just… Just get Former Hero to leave first.”

“Y-you lied t-to me” Hero A looks down, not wanting to face Sidekick now. All the trust they had been building… Was shattered.

“So, it’s movie night!” Former Hero says, and starts washing the dishes.

“Its… Its not like that A. I swear. I never wanted to be their sidekick. I… I can explain to you later, I swear”

“I was thinking we could watch Finding Nemo? It’s a nice movie!”

“N-no!” Hero A shakes their head “I-I thought… I-I tough I-I could trust you S-sidekick!”

“Oh, so not Nemo? Okay let me think…” Former Hero

“Please, you can! I just… I just wanted to keep you safe” they look at Former Hero “You really need to leave!”

“…Is that a movie suggestion? If not I’m not interested” Former Hero picks up a bag of popcorn.

“T-t-hey can stay!” Hero A darts into the kitchen.

“Oh dear… Please. Don’t Former Hero scare you?”

“You guys want popcorn? I’ll make it extra nice with butter and all!”

“Ye-yes but-you lied to me!”

“I… I had reasons to. Please. I-it’s complicated.”

Former Hero puts the popcorn on the pan and leaves it to cook, meanwhile they start looking for cups and pots on the cabinets.

“B-but you lied to me! And you promised! What if you are w-w-working with Villain too? TO hurt me? A-at least Former Hero is also a victim…”

“L-listen I should’ve told you. But… I had my reasons. Former Hero isn’t a victim” They look while Former Hero puts a tray on the table “They aren’t… Aren’t trying to hurt you either I think. They are just fucking weird. “

“A-and you k-knew them all a-a-along a-a-and t-t-told m-e n-n-othing!”

“Hey, Hero A, you think you can stomach horror movies? I have a copy of Saw that was totally legally purchased but I don’t want to put a movie that will upset you…” Former Hero puts some soda on the trays as well.

Hero A shakes their head. Sidekick tries to approach, but that scared Hero A, who steps back with their hands close to their chest.

“No..p-please…”

“Oh good to know, I guess no horror then” says Former Hero, with a thoughtful expression “Maybe some thriller?”

“Please… It’s… It’s too complicated to explain now” They try to reach Hero A once again… but they don’t even want to face Sidekick. They look down, tears falling down their cheeks “P-please just… just look at me”

“Complicated? So you guys want something more easy to follow then? You guys aren’t making this easy” Former Hero says, picking some candy bars and putting them on the tray “Honestly you guys are making this hard to decide… Romance?”

“N-no… I’- I can’t look at y-you right now” they back away even more, until their back is pressed against the kitchen wall.

“Oh? Was this a flirting?” Former Hero jokingly winks “Sorry, but my heart belongs to Villain only! I think we should go back to children’s movies. Some other pixar or Disney one maybe…“

“…I…. I understand” Sidekick lowers their head, hating so much to see Hero A like this… scared of them. When all they wanted to do was to protect them. They try to keep their calm. At least… At least Former Hero doesn’t seem to be a threat to them “You… You can call me okay? If you need?”

“O-okay…” they look down, holding their arm.

“Oh good! Then how about the Good Dinosaur?”

Sidekick nods, so, so worried… And leaves, giving them one last glance. Hero A raises their head again, looking sadly at Former Hero, face full of tears. Former Hero shakes their head.

“Hey… I know that film wasn’t very good but it’s not enough to draw tears, is it?”

Former Hero walks, carrying the tray in one hand, and cups A’s hand on the other, passing the thumb over their tears.

“…M-movie?” Hero A answers, unsure what Former Hero is even talking about.

“Yeah. It’s movie night.”

“oh… C-can we watch Finding Nemo?” they sniff, following Former Hero to the living room “I-it’s my comfort movie a-and… I –I think I-I n-need it now…”

Former Hero smiles at them.

“I knew you would see the light and recognize the one true movie!” they guide A to the sofa, placing the tray –with food for three - on the living room table “Of course we can watch Finding Nemo.”

tag: @whatwasmyprevioususername​ @whump-me-all-night-long​ @whumpsorbetism @lonesome--hunter

[formulatrash]

What are your thoughts on fanfic writing in the f1 fandom? I am pretty sure I saw you tweet about it at some point something small but I was too scared to interact with you on it over at twitter :D

So, this is a hotter topic than I’d really like it to be on my Tumblr and it’s my own fault but. Here we go.

RPF has some questionable ethics and some even more questionable origins. I’m ancient enough that it just used to get straight-up published as a ‘5 minute fantasy’ in young women and girls’ magazines where you’d get like, some 15 year old’s daydream about meeting a boyband member on holiday and falling in love and this was for some reason just treated as an absolutely normal bit of publishing not like ‘what the hell, that would be illegal’ and ‘why is this the fantasy we are encouraging girls to have as an ambition when it comes to sports or even pop success’ and y’know. 

Anyway, the 90s: really can’t emphasise enough how fucking weird having only a few sources to get your media from makes them.

Back to RPF; its roots are in political obscenity, if you want to talk about the bawdy stuff. The French Revolution, in particularly, wrote lots of erotica (the kinkier the better) about the royal family as part of refusing to acknowledge their divine rights under the church. It was an anarchical refusal to accept the situation as it was and to undermine it. 

Beyond that you’ve got historical fiction - Thucydides was all about working up a really good narrative take* on the Peloponnesian war back in the fifth century BC. Extra scenes, big dialogue, you know. If he’d known about self-lubricating buttholes then you BET Herodotus would have put them in the Histories.

Point is: writing fiction about real people isn’t really that weird, Shakespeare did a load of it. But we tend to problematise RPF and consider it strange, even amongst fanfiction.

Now, to 21st century sports and specifically F1. We speak here on Tumblr dot com, the audience where F1 fans skew most largely LGBT, non-cis and female or non binary rather than every other platform which is full of cis het men. Here is where we talk about fanfic. Because they don’t know we’re here, I assume, is the logic.

(they kinda don’t, to be fair)

Most of us do not see ourselves in sports. Most sports media is not aimed at the way that a lot of us were socialised to engage with stuff and most of us - lucky buggers like me aside - do not get to write the narratives of the way sport is engaged with or talked about or who does it. 

A lot of us who live here on god’s abandoned internet have drifted in and out of fandoms and a lot of that will have involved engaging with fanfiction. Fanfiction is a really fun sandbox to play in, as an adult - we get told to stop playing, as we grow up and it’s no surprise that we still want to. 

There’s a six monthly cycle of some AAA game that asks the question “is shooting people bad?” that prompts 10 broadsheet newspaper pieces on Videogames: Not Just For Kids Anymore (and sub in comics/superheroes/etc for games there) that makes everyone who knows that roll their eyes. Games and comics and superheroes are big, legitimised industries now that turnover hundreds of billions of dollars.

Fanfiction is an outlier, as the purest form of play in a lot of senses. Unfettered, it’s the democratic media platform; there’s no minimum standard for publishing, there’s no real limits beyond your own ethics on what you can publish. it doesn’t turn a profit, by its very definition and it allows lots of games and versions of itself within that. 

For something with a ludicrously broad definition that encapsulates hugely different types of works, it has defined forms; from drabbles to wingfic, as structural formats, we also recognise fluff or hurt/comfort as genre. Fanfiction isn’t really the thing itself, it’s the bookshop and what you find in it will vary on where you look and often, the advice of the bookseller or friends you speak to.

If you’ve enjoyed wandering that bookstore and adding to its shelves as part of the way you engage with media and then you come to a sports fandom? Well, you’re gonna look for the fic. If you don’t see yourself in the sport, as a woman or a queer person then you can write yourself in. It’s sad that we sideline the fantasies where we exist - given they’re entirely normal to have - into places where we jealously guard them away from the reality we daren’t intrude on but that is how it is.

And fuck: if your whole reason for liking F1 is cus you wanna marry a driver and you’re writing those 15 minute fantasies about them like you’re 15 and they’re a poster then it’s not doing any harm - it’s a lot healthier than stalking them. You might even work out what you really want or more things about yourself, in the process.

(if it’s ‘to marry an F1 driver’ then I suggest you take some boring swimwear snaps somewhere that looks expensive, stick ‘em on Insta and wait for the DM slide)

One of the things I like best in fanfic is the possibility of a queer narrative without complications, of telling queer stories without having to justify them as Issues, of letting us see ourselves and our own awakenings because fuck, you know the big book shop (if such things still exist) has one shelf of expensive, niche published novels you find difficult to related to and three sex ed books.

F1 fanfic was one of the ways I wandered back to the F1 fandom and one of the reasons I work in the industry now. It was enough of an in to make me want to really think, to have that new crush energy of obsession and enjoyment, about motorsport in a way I’d drifted away from as I felt sidelined from the sport through my early-to-mid 20s. I found brocedes much more compelling, as an interpretation and a way of processing the intense rivalry between Lewis and Nico - even knowing it was fictional conjecture - than I did the equally fictional conjecture about their psychological states and potential weaknesses published in the sports papers.

So, yes, I have read some excellent Formula 1 RPF. I have written some frankly mediocre and in retrospect very poorly edited F1 RPF that I posted to Twitter in a drunken moment of excitement because I was happy I’d finished it and forgot, idk. I have a tricky relationship to being a Notable Person I guess, I hadn’t intended any harm and was mostly worried I’d get flack from the industry. Lol. Anyway, only saying it cus like; this isn’t just me talking about things theoretically.

There’s a lot of F1 RPF that is more insightful than a lot of columns about ‘inside the drivers’ minds’ working off very little more than the RPF is.

Some of it, I won’t lie, I find really fucking weird but I guess like, that ain’t for me. There are a lot of problems with RPF - it’s too male, too frequently misogynist, too keen to reinforce homophobic ideas, too often white and blonde, not radical enough but those issues are for the advanced class rather than the 101 overview I was aiming for here and go well beyond F1 or RPF.

Shit I should be writing the weather report. Fuck. I’m the worst. Err, there you go, that’s a whole thing.

(I don’t read very much - I am busy af - but occasionally and especially on long haul flights when the idea of anything other than soothing is impossible)

*Actually tbh Thucydides couldn’t write for fuck but it was early and you know how when a tag’s young you’ll read a lot of mediocre stuff?

[technoskittles]

Catradora fic rec list

I mentioned making one of these awhile ago and I’m finally sitting down and compiling some of my all-time favorite fics. I’ve read a lot (like, a LOT), but I feel like a few of those really deserve an extra shout out.

I’ll separate them between multi-chap and one shots, but other than that they won’t be in any particular order. I’ll also try my best to tag the authors here on tumblr if I can find them, but if not, just lemme know if you see your fic and I can edit this later.

I’ll also be including ratings/word count/trigger warnings/etc

(I’ll mostly be including common tw’s so please make sure you also read the tags for anything that may affect you personally! Also, if I miss any, please keep in mind that it’s been awhile since I’ve read some of these so I may not remember all of them!)

Key:

[E] - Explicit 

[M] - Mature

[T] - Teen & Up Audiences

[G] - General Audiences

And for the multi-chap fics:

(O) - Ongoing

(F) - Finished

(?) - Not finished and they haven’t updated in awhile so the author probably died

So let’s get started! (Get ready for a long post obviously)

Multi-chap fics:

1. upper west side by ceruleanstorm (F) [T] ~190,000 words

TW: past child abuse, alcohol abuse

@princessofgayskull

I feel like this is definitely one of the top must-reads for all Catradora fanfics. I know I’ve seen this on a couple different lists but I’m including it on mine as well because it really is just that good.

The chapters are lengthy (but in a good way!) and the story really takes its time to flesh itself out. The character development of the characters as individuals is beautifully done and wonderfully realistic. The pacing of the development of Catra and Adora’s relationship is also sweetly slow, a steady slowburn that invokes that deep-rooted yearning feeling mirrored by the characters themselves.

It’s a really clever premise that takes place in the modern world but implements the canon universe in the form of the book that Adora’s writing that ties back to her and Catra’s shared childhood. The way that aspects of the show were revamped into this fic are so creative and I just....ugh. LOVE.

This fic also has a oneshot compilation that takes place after the events of the final chapter which is currently ongoing and I HIGHLY suggest checking that out as well once you’ve finished this. 

The sister fic for those interested: she’s god (and I found her) (O) [T] ~40,000 words

2. The Devil Is In (The Details) by SeasInkarnadine (O) [M] ~58,000 words

TW: Graphic Depictions of Violence, child abuse, emotional abuse, use of recreational drugs, Major Character Death

@seasinkarnadine

This is a really great fic where Adora is an undercover cop who sidles her way into one of the largest gang syndicates to bust whoever killed Hordak, a big gang leader and drug trafficker, whose death was originally ruled as an accidental overdose. Her and Catra (one of the gang members) both know foul play was involved and work together to figure out the truth.

The dynamics between these two is so casual and hilarious but still has those gut-wrenching moments that really ground you and realize that their relationship is dysfunctional on a few levels. The exploration of Adora’s conflicting feelings towards Catra hurt in such a good way as she realizes that she does genuinely care for Catra, but also is aware that what she’s doing will eventually screw her over and land her in jail. It’s the best kind of underlying angst and I highly recommend it.

Another really great selling point that I particularly love is that Adora is deaf in this AU and the author really shows this in such a realistic and natural way that shows she really knows what she’s talking about. It makes the dynamic between the two even more interesting considering that Catra also knows sign language which give the two a lot of moments of mutual understanding that doesn’t extend to the other characters. It’s something that the two of them have that’s sort of just for them to be on that level of understanding and it’s so great.

Also, Morgan is just a great writer in general and I highly suggest checking out more of her stuff (her art too!). She’s one of the writers I’ve looked up to since my beginning days in the fandom and it’s still amazing seeing all the great stuff she puts out.

3. Skinny Love by Maychup (O) [M] ~100,000 words

TW: past child abuse

@maychup

Another staple of big fics in the catradora fandom but for good reason. This fic is a wonderful exploration of events taking place after S1 illustrating Catra & Adora’s relationship in a different path that the rest of the show takes. It focuses heavily on their past experiences with each other and how that affects their current situation being on opposite sides of the war. 

This fic is older, published just after S1, so canon divergence is an important aspect of its build. But the way the story is written is so beautiful and grounded that it’s still interesting even now knowing what really happens in the show. 

Their dynamic is kind of back-and-forth, with Catra figuring out what Adora means to her and vice versa and where the two of them want to go from that point. It has so many sweet moments and steamy ones as well (btw, there’s a lot of smut) and the exploration into each of the character’s pysches is so compelling and intriguing.

4. Faded With Feelings by yesimgay (F) [T] ~24,000 words

TW: recreational drug use

This was such a cute, short multi-chap fic. It’s a bit older but I think it’s still one of my top faves. 

A modern au, Catra & Adora are roommates post-college and trying to make their way in the adulting world. Catra has ADHD and smokes weed to help with that. One day Adora accidentally eats a couple of her edibles and cute shenanigans ensue. And that’s just the first two chapters.

The rest of the fic goes on to the girls figuring out their feelings for each other, especially Adora who, in this case, isn’t really sure of her sexuality. All-in-all, a really cute fic that’s a nice break from all the angst that typically saturates the fandom.

5. Chasing the Spotlight by holymountain (?) [T] ~20,000 words

This is an AU where Adora is hired to be Catra’s, a pop singer, bodyguard. There’s so many cute moments in this, though admittedly it’s been about 6 months since it’s last updated so be sure to keep that in mind.

6. we’ve been making shades of purple out of red and blue by darklady21 (?) [t] ~24,000 words

An “and they were ROOMMATES” au. In this one though, Catra and Adora don’t actually know each other and really only get to know each other over time. It’s cute and has a lot of interesting interactions between the two, but it hasn’t updated in about 7 months.

7. Tuning Out by FaiaHae (?) [T] ~2500 words

I actually really loved the whole concept of this fic but it hasn’t updated in like, an entire year so...only read if you’re okay with the fact that it probably won’t ever be finished haha

8. burnt sugar by jeserai (O) [G] ~11,000 words

@jeserai

Oh god YES this fic. The classic “fake dating” au except Catra is a rich kid inheriting a business who essentially hires Adora, a broke college student, to go on a date with her to this big business function. There’s not a lot to say about it other than that without giving too much away, but the fic is about halfway done at this point so it’s a pretty short read as of now.

Just be warned, it’s currently on a MASSIVE cliffhanger so if you wanna wait until it updates I totally understand lol

9. still waters by summerson (O) [M] ~28,000 words

TW: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, self harm

A “The Last of Us” AU. Personally, I’m not super familiar with TLOU because I could never get into the game myself, but this fic is so well done and the writing style is so interesting and well-executed that I still love this fic to bits. But obviously, for those of you who are aware of TLOU, you already know that this fic is going to contain quite the fair share of angst so be ready.

10. Whispering Dreams by dragonesdepapel (F) [T] ~7500 words

It’s been awhile since I’ve read this one so I don’t remember everything, but I do remember really enjoying the writing style and the construction of this fic. It’s a short read, but it’s totally worth it

11. please could you be tender by erce3 (F) [G] ~40,000 words

@figbian

please please PLEASE go read this fic. I’m actually begging y’all to go read this one I loved it so much it’s still one of my top 10 faves out there.

This fic is set in a modern setting where Adora & Catra were childhood friends and are in college and god it’s just SO. GOOD. The writing style and composition of the flashbacks with the present events is so beautifully done and organized and I really cannot hype this fic up enough GO READ IT

12. buried a hatchet (it’s coming up lavendar) by erce3 (O) [G] ~12,000 words

on the note of that last rec, I highly rec their other work which is currently in progress. It takes place after S3 but it’s an exploration on if Catra and Adora got trapped in the portal instead of Angella and FUCK this person is genuinely amazing go read their stuff

13. Senior Year by SimplyAbsolute (O) [E] ~98,000 words

@simplyabsolute

This is a really cute fic about Adora and Catra in their final year of college and I guess for me personally it really just hits hard because I’m also in my final year of college lol. But really, it’s a great fic and I suggest checking it out. It’s actually only got one more chapter left too so it’s almost done!

14. Assassinating Adora by Wicked42 (F) [T] ~13,000 words

@wicked-42

TW: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Jeez this fic was a real rollercoaster of emotions. I loved every bit of it. 

Basically, some people try to assassinate Adora and Catra stops one of them, but both girls are still inflicted by the poison and....it just gets crazier from there. Don’t wanna spoil it too much but this is a must-read for sure.

And this one may seem like cheating but I’m gonna plug one of my own multi-chap fics here

15. Pure Feeling (O) [T] ~30,000 words

TW: brief mention of sexual assault in Ch 5

This is a modern AU set after all the kids have been out of college for a few years. 

Adora and Catra were childhood friends but ended up drifting apart and falling out during their college years. Fast forward about 6 years and they run into each other again, except now Adora has a daughter and is struggling to balance her life as a single mother. Overtime the two girls work on rebuilding their friendship and somewhere along the way might even realize that they’re feelings for each other never really went away. But of course, like all things in life, this isn’t an easy process and they run into more than a few complications - internal and external.

One Shots:

(there’s so many of these I’ve loved so I’m really going to try and narrow it down to about 10. If yours didn’t make it, no offense! I just have WAY too many to include and this post is already so long haha)

1. The Interlude That Never Ends by FMLClexa [M] ~2500 words

TW: Major Character Death, brief mention of sexual assault

Okay I’m gonna be honest: If you ignore all the other fics on this list, READ THIS ONE. This is absolutely my #1 favorite without a doubt. It’s a soulmate/reincarnation au and it’s so wonderfully executed that I honestly cannot even begin to tell y’all how much I love this one. It’s old and one of the first fics I ever read, but it’s so timeless and excellent and I promise you won’t regret reading it. I know I’ve read this about a million times over.

It’s been a whole year and this has held my #1 fave position the entire time. READ. IT.

2. after party by summerson [M] ~2000 words

TW: recreational drug use

God this fic was so great I read it last night and I’m still in awe in how well it was written and the emotions it managed to invoke in me. My favorite scene is the part where Catra tells Adora “I love you” because it’s so raw and desperate and I vibed with it so hard. It’s really difficult trying to tell someone how much you love them with just a few simple words because they really just don’t convey how much you love them and it’s so frustrating and GAH this fic was fucking great please read it.

3. jigsaw by jeserai [G] ~2500 words

@jeserai

This fic is so great and I felt so warm inside reading it. Definitely read if you want sweet, slow friends to lovers burn.

4. Vicious by SeasInkarnadine [M] ~3500 words

TW: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

I really highly recommend this one if you can get past the trigger warnings. It was so well written and very suspenseful with the juxtaposition of the timeline between current events and snippets of what had happened just hours before. But the ending is really sweet and the way that Catra cares for Adora after the whole thing squeezed my heart to pieces.

This is one I’ve read a few times over because of how much I love it. Def in my top 3.

5. Basement by spookyscaryskeletons [G] ~2800 words

This was such a great rendition of “Adora and Catra are forced to talk” and the emotions were raw and bleeding and I love the character portrayals. 

6. Coming Apart by Whorls [E] ~13,000 words (or ~6,000 words each chap)

@crazy-pages

Okay this fic technically has two chapters but I’m including it here in the oneshots because the chapters are identical in the sense of story but the only difference is that in chapter one Catra is a cis woman and in chapter two she’s a trans woman pre-op. Other than that the chapters are identical so it’s mostly based off which experience you would rather have while reading.

This fic was. So. Fucking. Good. Sen did such a fantastic job with both aspects of this story and I love it to bits and pieces. The smut in the beginning is delicious as can be, but then towards the latter half it absolutely sucker punches you with feelings but in a good way. I really, really fucking love this fic and I think it needs more attention than it initially got so I’m imploring you all to please go read this fic. It’s fantastic.

7. Seconds That I Cannot Replace by Mogatrat [M] ~7800 words

TW: child abuse, underage(?)

This is a really heartbreaking fic set before canon. It’s about all the times that Catra and Adora started a romantic relationship only for Shadow Weaver to come in and ruin everything by constantly erasing and resetting Adora’s memory. I still think about this fic from time to time. Give it a go.

8. Come morning light by dragonesdepapel [T] ~1800 words

TW: Major Character Death

Another one that’s technically two chapters but it’s the same events, just covers the perspective of each girl. Adora’s dying and asks Catra to stay with her.

Basically this fic ripped my heart out and I still think about it sometimes.

9. someone you like by caela [T] ~5100 words

oh fuck me yes this fic. A modern au where Catra sorta stalks Adora on instagram and accidentally likes an old picture. Fluffiness galore.

10. When You Came Calling by ActuallyMe [E] ~5200 words

TW: Major Character Death

A 1940′s Mob AU where Catra is a private eye and Adora married high-ranking mob boss Hordak...who’s just been murdered.

Really great one shot. Personally I would’ve loved to see more come of this but it’s great on its own.

And once again, this is cheating but here’s a couple oneshots of my own that I wanna plug real quick

11. hang tight (all you) [T] ~9200 words

Modern AU fic set when Catra and Adora are in high school. Adora struggles to come to terms with her sexuality in an discouraging environment as well as the fact that she’s had a crush on her best friend since middle school. Personally I think this was one of my best works and a lot of other people seem to have liked it too so yeah!

12. as my World d[ivides] [E] ~2500 words

TW: Rape/Non-Con, Underage

One of my darker fics, but still one I’m pretty proud of. Without giving too much away, Adora suffers from a trauma and engages in unhealthy coping mechanisms and Catra enables her because no one’s taught them any different.

[splendidlyimperfect]

When Natsu runs into five-year-old Sting and Rogue at the Grand Magic Games, he thinks they're cute kids with a serious case of hero worship. But when it turns out that they're both Dragon Slayers and they belong to the ruthless Sabertooth Guild, something doesn't feel quite right. Natsu and Gray quickly grow protective of the two little kids, and they do their best to build a relationship with them to try to keep them safe and figure out what exactly is going on at Sabertooth.

alternate chapter art here

Chapter Summary: Natsu and Gray are both unsettled by the revelation about Sting and Rogue's dragon slaying powers, and Gray realizes he has something in common with Rogue.

Chapters (2/?): 1 | 2 Fandom: Fairy Tail Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine Additional Tags: Canon Universe, Not Canon Compliant, like not even close, Dai Matou Enbu | Grand Magic Games Arc, Sort Of, Childhood Friends, Cute Kids, Hero Worship, Fairy Tail Dragon Slayers, Protectiveness, protective Natsu, Protective Gray, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Parenthood, sorta - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Character, Nonbinary Character, Trans Gray, Trans Sting, Nonbinary Rogue, they're just adorable baby dragon slayers and Natsu wants to adopt them, and kind of does, Mutual Pining, because Gray and Natsu are idiots

-----

The walk back to the inn was quiet. Erza and Lucy quickly slipped into a recap of the day’s events, but Natsu was edgy and distracted, still trying his hardest to figure out what had felt wrong about the two boys.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you think too hard.” Gray appeared beside Natsu and bumped his shoulder, knocking him out of step.

“Hilarious.” Natsu nudged him back, but it lacked the usual enthusiasm of their bickering.

“I try.” Gray shoved his hands into his pockets, staying next to Natsu as they made their way through the dark streets. He didn’t say anything, which wasn’t unusual for him, but Natsu felt like there was a weight behind the lack of words.

“It doesn’t feel right,” Natsu finally said once they had arrived at the inn and the girls had headed in to sleep. He leaned against the wall next to Gray and stared up at the sky. The sun had set, and the sky was a dark tapestry littered with pinpricks of stars. “I dunno why it’s bugging me so much. We weren’t much older when we joined Fairy Tail.”

Gray nodded, absently patting his pocket where he used to keep his cigarettes. Natsu batted his hand away, trying to ignore the warm spark when their fingers touched.

It doesn’t mean anything, Natsu thought as he pulled his hand back and shoved it in his pocket. He’s your best friend.

Continue reading on AO3

Gray didn’t answer for a while. The silence that settled between them was easy and familiar, and Natsu felt himself unconsciously leaning closer to Gray. Everyone always teased Natsu about how much he talked, but when he was alone with Gray, it didn’t feel necessary. The urgent need to fill the air with cheerful words was replaced by a deep, quiet sense of familiarity that felt like home.

“I think,” Gray said after a while, keeping his gaze on the sky, “it feels wrong because they’re alone. I mean, not alone, but there aren’t any other kids in their guild.” He kicked at a rock, watching it bounce across the street and clatter down into the gutter. “They’re so young. And nobody’s looking out for them.”

“Yukino is,” Natsu pointed out, and Gray nodded. “But she seems…”

“Afraid?”

“Mm. She doesn’t really fit with them either.” Natsu sighed, prodding at a bruise that was still forming on his ribs. It was courtesy of a vicious kick from Orga during their fight that morning – one that Natsu and Gray had nearly lost to Sabertooth’s ruthless tactics.

Silence fell between them again. The soft chill that normally radiated from Gray was tempered by Natsu’s heat, keeping them both comfortably warm in the cool spring air. Natsu absently held out his hand and summoned a small flame, running it back and forth across his knuckles. Gray blew a stream of frosty air at it, and it froze for a second, glinting orange and gold in the dim light of the streetlamp.

“I think Sting’s trans,” Gray said as the flame went out.

Natsu raised an eyebrow, tipping his head to look at the soft expression on Gray’s face. Natsu still remembered the day he’d come out, even though it was years ago. They’d been nine or ten, sparring as usual, and Droy had told Natsu that he shouldn’t hit girls. Gray had yelled that he wasn’t a girl, said some words that he’d probably picked up from Gildarts, then punched Droy and stormed away from the guild. Natsu had followed him down to the river and they’d spent the afternoon together, carefully holding hands and watching the water sparkle in the afternoon sun.

Nothing had changed. Gray was still Gray, and Natsu had still loved him just as fiercely.

“How do you know?”

Gray shrugged. “I dunno, something…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely. Natsu nodded. He’d known right away that Rogue wasn’t a boy or a girl, just like Freed, but he couldn’t quite explain how.

“I wish they could come with us,” Natsu said. “There’s something off – not just about Sabertooth, about them. I can’t figure it out and it’s driving me crazy.”

“You could try to talk to Yukino,” Gray suggested. “Not to take them or anything, just to maybe, I dunno, offer to help them. Train them, I mean. With the dragon slayer stuff. Jiemma might go for that if that’s what he’s… keeping them for.”

“That’s… actually a good idea.”

“I happen to have those sometimes.”

“Only when you’re inspired by my brilliance.”

Gray laughed – a rare, quiet sound that made Natsu’s cheeks warm and his stomach twist in a gentle, familiar way.

“C’mon,” Gray said, pushing himself off the wall and nudging Natsu’s arm. “It’s late, let’s go to bed.”

Natsu swallowed back the disappointment that washed over him – he wanted to stay here, shoulders touching, talking quietly in the night. He liked having Gray to himself. It happened so rarely now that they were adults, and Natsu missed the afternoons they used to spend by the river. He missed holding hands. He missed falling asleep together under the afternoon sun and waking up with his head on Gray’s shoulder.

“I’ll be right in,” he said, forcing himself to smile.

Gray frowned. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Natsu said quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

~

“You shouldn’t drink so much of that; you’re going to have a heart attack.”

Gray glared half-heartedly at Lucy over his fourth cup of coffee. Even with that much caffeine flowing through him, he was still exhausted. Sleep had evaded him for most of the night. At first, he’d spent his time waiting for Natsu to come inside, wishing he’d stayed out with him. Then, once Natsu had finally crawled into the bed across from Gray and was snoring softly, the nightmares had started.

Gray hadn’t dreamed about his mom in a long time. He’d woken up in the early hours of the morning, skin and sheets covered in a thick layer of frost, and had been surprised to find tears frozen to his cheeks.

“’m fine,” he mumbled. “Stupid beds are uncomfortable.”

Lucy nodded sympathetically as she sat down at the table across from him. The inn had its own small kitchen, and Gray was grateful for the option to eat here, mostly alone, instead of heading to the market to find food with everyone else. He still felt unsettled and wasn’t quite ready to face the world.

“Are you okay?” Lucy’s gentle question made the fragile barrier around Gray’s heart splinter a little and he sighed, dropping his head into his hands. Somehow, she was always able to see past his bullshit.

“Just bad dreams.”

“Is it because of the kids?”

Gray peeked up at her. “You’re freakishly perceptive, you know that, right?”

Lucy laughed, poking at her pancakes. “So that’s a yes, then.”

“I guess.” Gray rubbed his face. “I dunno. They’re little and alone.” The words stuck in his throat and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself together. “It just…”

“Reminds you of yourself?”

“Would you stop that?”

“Nope.”

Gray groaned. “Yes, okay? And I know a lot of us had shitty childhoods, but it made me think about my mom, and how it sucks they don’t have their parents. That’s all.”

Lucy reached across the table and took Gray’s hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s okay to miss your mom,” she said gently. “I miss mine, too. And I know that Natsu’s thinking about his dad. You’re not alone, Gray.”

He let out a noisy breath and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah, I know.” He squeezed her hand, giving her a small half-smile before letting go and grabbing his coffee again. The taste was bitter as he downed it in one gulp, then stood up and pushed his chair away from the table.

“You’d better get going,” Lucy said, gesturing at the clock on the wall behind him. “I’m pretty sure you’re up first this morning.”

“Mm.” Gray stretched, then leaned across the table and quickly kissed the top of Lucy’s head. He pulled away before she could say anything, turning toward the door so she couldn’t see the redness in his cheeks. “See you later?” For some reason it came out as a question, almost seeking reassurance.

Of course, Lucy provided it. “I’ll be cheering for you,” she said. “Good luck!”

~

The fight was exhausting. Gray was matched one-on-one against someone named Renne from a guild he couldn’t even remember, and the lack of sleep caught up to him halfway through the fight. Something hit him hard in the forehead and he stumbled backward, blinking when blood dripped into his eyes.

C’mon, Princess. Natsu’s voice filled Gray’s mind and for a moment, he thought it was his imagination. Then he glanced up into the stands and realized that Natsu was staring down at him with Max by his side, borrowing his telepathic magic. You’ve got this.

Gray shook his head to clear his blurred vision, launching a barrage of ice blades from his hands as Renne teleported behind him. Another hit landed on his jaw and he grunted in pain, stumbling forward and cursing under his breath. Frustration and embarrassment washed over him as blood filled his mouth.

The kids are watching. Natsu’s voice appeared again. Look up.

Gray spun around, gaze moving from Natsu’s grinning face to the enormous screen that panned across the crowd. Right now, it was focused on Sabertooth, and there, leaning against the railing, were Sting and Rogue. Sting had a wild grin on his face and was bouncing up and down in excitement, turning to talk to Yukino as he pointed at Gray. Rogue was standing behind him, looking much more subdued, but when Gray realized they were still holding the snake he’d made, something warm flooded through him.

Fuck this, he thought, spitting blood onto the ground and turning back to Renne. I’m not gonna lose. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

As soon as he thought about it, the devil slayer magic he’d been ignoring for so long started to thrum under his skin. An anticipation grew along with the power, layered with an irritated almost-whisper of, why did you wait so long, let me out, let me free, let me destroy.

Gray gritted his teeth, pushing back against the destructive desires of the magic. It itched and stung, just like every time he called on it, pushing at him like it didn’t quite fit in his body. The black marks raced across his skin like ink on parchment, twisting in patterns that Gray still didn’t understand. He didn’t use the magic often – even after a year, the new powers still unsettled him.

He exhaled, letting the tension and fatigue flow out of his body, then looked up at Renne again. Everything about her was sharper. Gray could see her magic now; a purplish-blue aura that darted around her, quick and nimble. It tasted bitter, overpowering the coppery tang of blood that clung to the inside of his mouth.

A look of surprise appeared on her face that was quickly replaced by disgust, and she cursed as she charged at him. Her magic flowed just ahead of her, and Gray watched the movements carefully, stepping out of the way of her attack. She stumbled uncertainly, then glared at him as she disappeared in a burst of light.

Gray closed his eyes, letting the magic flow out of him like a sixth sense, feeling through the air until it found a heartbeat. He whipped around as the magic snapped back to him, crystallizing along his arms until sharp blades spread from his fingers to elbows. Renne appeared exactly where he’d expected, and her nasty grin was quickly replaced by a look of surprise when he caught her blow one-handed and tossed her to the ground.

A hungry sensation raced through Gray at the expression on her face, but he pushed it back, refusing to give in to the vicious desires of his magic. The commentators shouted something, and a cheer spread through the crowd, but it all turned to a dull roar as Gray pushed the magic out again, letting it crystallize into a group of wicked-looking ice shards that hung around Renne.

“What the hell kind of magic is this?” she hissed, pushing herself to her feet. The shards moved closer to her, bathing her in the bruised purple light of the devil slayer’s ice.

“Mine,” Gray said simply. Then he closed his fist and detonated the ice. It exploded into thousands of tiny fragments that whipped around Rennee, sharp and deadly. She swore as one of them nicked her arm, then scowled at Gray and teleported away.

He closed his eyes again, following the magic as it moved. It darted back and forth around him and through the air, leaving behind a sour, acidic smell, then stopped on near the edge of the stadium. Gray quickly dropped to one knee, pressing his hands to the ground and sending out a shockwave that culminated in a mass of razor-sharp ice spikes exploding underneath where Rennee reappeared.

She disappeared again and Gray could feel her anger and resentment, a dark blue color seething through the lines of her magic. It made her even easier to track. He kept his eyes closed, shifting to follow each teleport and block it with the hungry magic that flowed through him.

A few attempts later, he caught her. She materialized into a prison of dark purple ice that raced across her skin until it covered her torso and pinned her arms to her chest. She stumbled forward, landing on her knees and not standing again.

The commentator’s voices were fuzzy as a cheer raced through the stadium and the Fairy Tail logo filled the screen. Gray exhaled in relief as he released the magic around Renne, pulling it back to him and letting it dissolve. The marks quickly disappeared into his skin, leaving him worn out and oddly cold.

“Freak,” Renne hissed as she stumbled to her feet. “That magic is evil. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Gray didn’t have an answer for her, and he dropped his gaze to the ground as she turned on her heel and walked away.

I knew you could do it. Natsu’s voice appeared in Gray’s head again and he looked up to see the stupid, brilliant smile that always made his heart ache. You looked pretty badass, too. Gray was glad he was far enough away from Natsu that he couldn’t see the embarrassed flush that crept into his cheeks. I think you’ve got a new fan, Natsu added, nodding to the screen again.

The camera had panned to the left, but the edge of the screen still caught the Sabertooth viewing area. Sting had been cut out of the picture, but Rogue was still there, clutching the snake to their chest and gazing down at Gray with a wide-eyed look of adoration. The warm feeling from earlier swelled in Gray’s chest again – for some reason, that look was worth more than all the cheers from the rest of the stadium.

~

The dizzy, uncomfortable feeling that always appeared after using the devil slayer magic plagued Gray for the rest of the day. He tried his best to shake it off and cheer for his team, but the feeling dug its claws into him and wouldn’t let go.

Freak.

Evil.

Demon.

The echo of Renne’s voice drifted around in his mind, next to the headache and the unsettling feeling of his skin not fitting quite right.

“You okay?” Natsu asked once they’d left the stadium for the day. The evening sky was a soft pink and cast gentle shadows across the cobblestone street. The market was closed for the evening and the quiet was a calm reprieve from the shouts and excitement of the games.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Gray grumbled. “I’m fine.”

“Liar.” Natsu gave him a sideways look but Gray refused to return it. “You look like shit.”

Gray snorted. “Thanks.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” Gray caught Natsu’s grin out of the corner of his eye. “Seriously, though. You used the magic.”

Gray’s stomach twisted. “Of course I used magic,” he said quickly. “It’s called the Grand Magic Games.”

“That’s not what I meant, idiot, and you know it.”  

Gray sighed, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. He missed being able to hold Natsu’s hand. They’d done it for years, and the gentle warmth of Natsu’s palm against his had always been enough to make Gray feel safe. Then they’d grown up and it had started to feel like something else, and it hurt Gray too much to keep touching Natsu and knowing he couldn’t have him like that.  

“I just—”

Gray’s words were interrupted by a yell, and a familiar voice shouting, “Stop it!”

“Sting?” Gray frowned at Natsu, looking around the empty market for the little boy. It took a second and another shout for him to see the head of curly blond hair on the other side of the fountain in the center of the square.  

“Are they out here again by themselves?” Natsu asked, sighing in exasperation as they both quickened their pace and headed toward Sting. “I swear, I’m gonna—”

“Leave them alone!”

Sting yelled again, and they arrived at the fountain just in time to see someone shove him. It was a boy who looked to be a couple years older than Sting and Rogue, and an ugly look crossed his face as Sting stumbled backward.

“He’s stupid and you are too,” the boy said, hands clenching into fists. A terrified-looking Rogue stood just behind Sting, and a spark of protective anger flared in Gray’s chest. Sting’s cheeks were red, and he looked like he was about to cry, but he didn’t back down. His hands shook as the boy took a step toward him.

“Hey!” Natsu’s shout caught the boy’s attention as he stepped forward, and he whipped around to face them. His eyes widened when he realized who Natsu was. “What do you think you’re—”

Before Gray could grab him, the boy was gone, darting out of the market and into the maze of alleys that wound through the city.

There was a moment of silence, and then Sting burst into tears.

“Hey bud.” Natsu’s voice was gentle as he crouched down next to Sting. “Are you okay?” Sting shook his head, and Natsu made a sad sound, pulling the little boy into a hug. “It’s okay,” Natsu said softly as Sting pressed his face into his shoulder. “You’re safe.”

Gray turned to Rogue, who was staring uncertainly at Sting and Natsu. Gray hesitated, not quite sure if he should step in or let Natsu handle it. Kids weren’t his forte – even with Asuka he sometimes felt awkward and out of place, unsure of how to respond to her exuberance and desire to play.

Then Rogue rubbed their face and Gray realized they were about to cry as well.

“Hey, c’mere,” Gray said gently, holding out his hand. Rogue stared at Sting for a few more seconds, then cautiously took Gray’s hand and followed him over to the fountain. Gray sat down on the edge and lifted Rogue up to sit beside him, surprised by how light they were. Rogue quickly curled up against him as they sniffled and tried to hide their tears.

“Is Sting in trouble?”

“Of course not,” Gray reassured them, wrapping his arm around them as they snuggled closer to him. The easy trust that Rogue seemed to have in him made Gray feel warm and important. “That kid was a jerk,” he said. “Neither of you did anything wrong. Did he hurt you?”

Rogue shook their head, sniffing and wiping their face with their sleeve. “He said my eyes was weird,” they said quietly. Anger flared up in Gray’s chest again and he contemplated chasing the kid down. “Sting telled him to go away but he didn’t listen. Why he was mean?”

“I don’t know,” Gray said honestly. “Sometimes people aren’t very nice and there isn’t a good reason for it.”

Rogue didn’t answer, just rested their head against Gray’s shoulder and played with the frayed edge of their sleeve. Gray looked back at Natsu, who was still crouched next to Sting with a hand on his arm. Sting had stopped crying and his face was set in a stubborn frown, and Gray almost laughed when he realized it was the same look Natsu had always worn at that age.

“You’re nice,” Rogue said, pulling Gray’s attention back to them. “I like you.”

Gray stilled, not quite sure why the words made his cheeks burn. “I like you too,” he said carefully. He looked back at Natsu, who had managed to get Sting to smile, then back down at Rogue. He felt wildly out of his element and he had no idea how to make Rogue feel better. Then he thought of the way Rogue’s face had lit up at the snake sculpture he’d made the day before.

“Hey, you wanna see something cool?”

Rogue looked up at him, half of their face hidden behind a curtain of dark hair. “See what?”

Gray held out both hands, summoning his magic as slowly as he could. Snowflakes drifted up and around his palms as they started to glow with a faint blue light. Rogue’s face immediately brightened with excitement and they leaned forward, staring at the magic.

“You can make a snake again?” they asked as they gazed at the soft blue light.

“Sure,” Gray said, relaxing as Rogue’s tearful expression transformed into a small, shy smile. “I can make anything you want.”

“Anything?” Rogue’s eyes widened further.

“Yep.” Gray moved his fingers and the ice twisted into a snake again, then into a thin, delicate snowflake, then into a small cat. Rogue watched the whole time, head tilted to the side, entranced by the movements.

“You can do it black?” they asked, looking down at their own hands.  

Gray frowned. “Black?” Rogue touched Gray’s forearm and his eyes widened as he realized they meant the devil slayer marks.

“That’s sort of—”

“Like mine.” Rogue held his palm out next to Gray’s and a tiny, black wisp appeared. “See?” Gray watched as it flickered and twisted, then dropped back down onto Rogue’s hand. A bit of it spread out under their skin for a moment, just like the marks on Gray’s arms. “It’s only little cause I did a big one and it scareded Yukino but it was an accident. I didn’t mean to.”

The uncertainty and shame in Rogue’s voice made Gray’s heart ache.

“I’m sure she was just surprised,” he reassured Rogue. Then he pushed away his exhaustion and slowly pulled at the devil slayer magic until a pattern of dark marks swirled across his arms. The soft blue glow in his palms darkened as he focused the magic, keeping it from overwhelming him. He jumped when he felt something on his wrist, but it was just Rogue’s fingertips, tracing the pattern of the marks.

“Show me yours again,” Gray said, nudging Rogue’s hands. They hesitated, then held up their palm next to Gray’s, summoning another wisp of shadow that danced along their fingers. “You can make it bigger,” Gray said. Rogue gave him a dubious look. “It’s okay, I promise.”

“’kay.” Rogue squirmed forward, bringing their other hand up as the shadow grew, spiraling and flickering until it was nearly the size of a house cat. Gray nudged it with his own magic, drawing the shadow into the cloud of dark snowflakes.

“See?” He smiled at the delighted expression on Rogue’s face. “It’s not scary. It’s pretty.” The marks on his arms shifted again and he felt the magic trying to stretch. “What should we make?” he asked, trying to ignore the sensation.

“A frog?” Rogue asked. “I like frogs.”

Gray laughed, shifting his magic alongside Rogue’s and molding it into the shape of a small frog that fit in the palm of their hand. Instead of the bright, clear blue from the other day, this one was deep purple, with wisps of shadow twisted inside the ice. It was beautiful, in a strange way.

“Thank you.” Rogue tipped their head onto Gray’s shoulder, letting out a happy sigh and snuggling close as they ran their fingers over the frog. He exhaled, letting the magic sink back into his skin as he wrapped his arm around Rogue again.

They sat in silence for a while as Gray watched Natsu and Sting. Natsu had moved to sit cross-legged on the ground and Sting was in his lap, still red-eyed but no longer crying. The soft, fond feelings that Gray tried so hard to keep to himself surfaced easily as he watched the two of them. Natsu’s smile was genuine and his hands were gentle, and he was beautiful in the shadows of the setting sun.

“All right, you two,” Natsu said eventually, standing and scooping Sting into his arms. “Oof, you’re heavy.”

“I’m five,” Sting said, managing to look indignant even while wrapping his arms around Natsu’s neck. “That’s big.”

“That is big,” Natsu agreed, giving Gray a soft smile as he stood as well, holding a sleepy Rogue in his arms. “Now, let’s go find Yukino.”