#or she doesn't owe us anything

[javier-pena]

it's been six days since the vienna shows have been cancelled and london starts in 48 hours and taylor still hasn't said anything at all, and like ... even a "vienna 💔" would've been enough, this was supposed to be her first time playing in austria and now it didn't happen and she isn't even acknowledging it and it just sucks to feel so overlooked after everything

[tapakah0]

do u know cass personally? or is this a tumblr friendship? cuz its the most wholesome thing ive seen in my life

I don't even know their real name ~ But if I will be told that I have an extra liver, I will know at the exact same second to whom give it.

[thoumpingground]

So when Darcy went to fix the Lydia/Wickham situation, he first tried to get Lydia to return home, only bribing Wickham into marrying her when she wouldn't. This is sensible by modern standards, but we know from everyone else's reactions Lydia *failing* marrying Wickham would bring the Bennet family shame. Darcy knows this, and doubt he planned to leave the situation as is. So how did he originally plan to fix it?

I think Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was gonna channel his inner Emma Woodhouse (didn't have to dig far, they're very similar people) and play matchmaker. In my headcannon Darcy checked his "Possible Husbands for Georgie" list against his "People who owe me Gargantuan favours" list and offer whoever came up money to marry Lydia.

Now, he would want to spare the Bennets of as much of the scandal as possible, and wouldn't want to take the merit in front of Lizzie, so all would most likely happen discreetly through Mr. Gardiner, while Lydia was in London, and she would move to her husbands immediatly after.

However, I wanna propose a different scenario: Lydia returns to Meryton. Scandal ensues, the Bennets are disgraced. Then, within two weeks, a random well-off man shows up intent on courting Lydia and *only* Lydia. He heeds nobodys warnings and gives no explanations. Lydia loves it. Every other mum in Meryton is furious. The Bennets are confused and paranoid. Imagine the drama. The intrige. The million questions still unawnsered long after Lydia eventually gets married and leaves. Bingley marries Jane (cause of course Darcy still told him he'd been wrong to pull them apart, and Bingley would) and Darcy's still somewhat around. Maybe him and Lizzie get together, maybe not, but every time the topic comes up he gets all sheepish and awkward and she gets suspicious and it's a thing. It's their new dynamic.

[agardenintheshire]

ik we clown on sawyers sexism but we need to clown on jack as well bc hooo boy there's some covert misogyny happening there, especially regarding women he's romantically interested in (sarah, kate, juliet, ashara), where his saviour complex and protective syndrome WAY overshoots the line (re: stalking, obsessiveness, jealousy, not taking no for an answer when they won't tell him things, not letting them be capable etc). like with sawyer from his whole demeanour you'd expect it coming from him but with jack you wouldn't. until you're kate and he won't let you come on today's jungle trip even though he knows you're capable or when he corners ashara in her room and forces her to tattoo him. and of course this misogyny is soo tied up into his daddy issues & control issues etc. and i think he doesnt see himself as being sexist (not like sawyer is!!) and he'd probably be appalled if you told him.

anyway this isnt a well thought out analysis or smth it was just smth i've been thinking about the past few days and i wish the show had explored that aspect of it more...but to ask a 2000s american network tv show to meaningfully explore their male protagonist's sexism...i have to laugh.

[hazelkjt]

"Do not seek forgiveness, for it will not ease the burden. It weighs as it should."

Redemption Arc

Redemption Arc- "Your story had a pretty rough start and you did some things you're not proud of, but you made the choice to change. I won't go through how important it is to accept responsibility and keep striving to improve or whatever because you know that already. What I think you should know is that your fuel does not need to be shame. You don’t need to stand over the bathroom sink with your blood in your hands until you can no longer make out your reflection. You will look at your face and you will see the person you used to be, but that person no longer exists. Today, you are looking, and that makes all the difference."

tagged by @iron-sparrow tyty!! It was fun to try and think of a way for this to fit at least one version of Hazel and I think I got it.

Quiz can be found here

aaaand I will tag: @the-white-snake, @sparrowsong-7, @cindernet-explorer, @selnyam, @hinganskies

[adamshallperish]

the amount of people calling ethel cain "bitch" to her face on anon is insane to me. people like. come on. you're not her bestie, that's not like a term of endearment if it's from a stranger. also she's not going to fuck you!

[heymacy]

i had a dream last night that jenna marbles posted a quick little 2 minute update video on her channel and when i woke up it wasn't real and i cried a little

[sparksflys]

.

[thelasttime]

.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

give summer a character arc challenge

[kaerinio]

oh god, i just got hit with the fact that dany is naturally wary of staying with people rent-free, whatever that may be depending on world, verse, au. so like, if you tell her that she can come live with you (in whatever capacity that may be . . . specifically long term), she may stiffen a bit, and it's not because you've asked her, but it's the memory of being thrown out of the house with the big red door, the memory of being ejected from the houses and manses of those who got over the marvel of sheltering the last targaryens, of watching her brother grow crueler and crueler. it's that memory of the false safety she had in the past, of each severance. it's also very reminiscent of her very intense resistance to becoming a 'beggar' like her brother. she doesn't bring it up, but it's clear that something is obviously there in how she contributes. there's almost a hyper-vigilance. and there's also this . . . almost like a ticking clock.

[piracytheorist]

Idk I just really like that Twilight's reaction to being told "Your wife used to be a prostitute!" is to go like

and proceed to say how honourable and worthy of respect her dedication, self-sacrifice and mental fortitude are, and how we're shown he actually means that.

And then my girl Yor sees his reaction and hears his words and for the first time in her life she goes like "This is a man who literally just met me and has no connection to me yet he not only understands my position, he's also willing to bring himself out there and have my back when other people have free bait to judge me" and like damn how important that was to her, to have someone (who doesn't owe his survival to her like Yuri does) actually see her and respect her choices and have the absolute BEST of faiths in her. Like, what Camilla says there has the societal power to make her look like a pariah. Yet this dude comes over and without knowing anything about her, he vouches for her and immediately assumes her reasons were noble and altruistic. And though he doesn't know what profession he's actually vouching for, he's completely right in his assumption about her intentions, and considering how easily the general public judges sex workers, it's no surprise this support gives Yor the courage to believe Loid will understand her and won't think bad of her if she ever disappears on them due to her work, because he's open-minded enough for his first and immediate assumption about her is that she has good intentions.

And I just wanna SCREAM because she has absolutely no idea how little he will judge her about her assassin gig. She already considers herself lucky she's come across someone who is compassionate enough to think the best out of someone who works in a profession that is not considered "morally acceptable" by the public. But she has no idea the actual jackpot she's hit, because his own profession is far more dark and sinister yet he still has the kindness and empathy in his heart to understand people who do the same as he does.

Like, that's it with her character, isn't it? She sacrificed her own youth and morality to help Yuri grow up and be educated, and that caused him to idolize her, and because he was the only family she had left, she has been desperate to not cause any of her ties with him to break. But it also caused her impostor syndrome, and she had no confidence in any of her abilities aside from killing and cleaning up after her work, because she lives in a misogynistic society that is suspicious of unmarried women (like, that judgment alone, considering unmarried men don't experience such scrutiny, can be enough to damage a woman's psyche) and because she has been working under a man cruel enough to hire orphaned teenagers as assassins and nearly kill them in tests of their abilities ever since she was a teenager. For her it was either "I'm either perfect in something or I'm completely useless and I deserve people's judgment". Because if Yuri sees she doesn't have the perfect record, she thinks he will be horrified and she'll lose the ties to her last remaining family. And she will think she deserved that. If her killing skills waver in the slightest, she will be killed, either by enemies or by the Shopkeeper doing his little "tests". And she will think she deserved that. And if she doesn't abide by the society's expectations, she will at best be judged and mocked (for not cooking at home) and at worst get arrested (for being suspected as a spy). And she will think she deserved that.

Yet again, this stranger comes along, is told she's worked a socially shameful profession, knows she's shy and with so few connections that she can't even find someone to act as her pretend boyfriend for a party, and he supports her. And then he finds out how socially unskilled she is, how terrible she is at cooking, how she can't even pretend to kiss him for their mutual benefit, how she has the tendency to get so drunk she accidentally kicks him unconscious... And those things that she considers fatal flaws of her, he says are parts of her that she doesn't need to pretend don't exist. That's who she is, and there's nothing to fix, and she can just accept them without feeling bad or ashamed of it, that pretending she's someone else, someone perfect, will only make her miserable and exhausted.

And like... fuck. How can she not feel glad she got to marry that guy?

And how much will her heart break when she finds out he's a spy and will immediately doubt all the supportive words he's told her? And how astonishing will it be when she finds out that he actually meant pretty much everything he's told her, and that he really resonates with her and believes in her?

(anime only here, don't spoil me for the manga)

[punkshort]

Just Friends

Thank you @brittmb115 for this prompt!

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Accompanying your friend Javier to his holiday work party seemed simple enough until it gets a little too hard to just pretend to be dating.

Warnings: language, fake dating, one bed trope, sexual tension, jealousy, flirting, cigarette use, alcohol use, friends to lovers, reader has insecurities about her looks, fingering, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex

WC: 6.4K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

"Please, cariño, it's just one night. The party's at a casino about two hours outside the city. The DEA paid for hotel rooms 'cause they're worried about people drinking and driving. We'll be back by noon on Saturday, you'll still have your whole weekend to mope around over Travis," Javi begged as he followed you around your kitchen.

"Trent," you corrected with a glare over your shoulder. Javi just waved you off.

"Yeah, whatever. His name doesn't matter anymore, now does it?" he countered with an arched brow. You frowned and continued to put your dishes away.

Javier was right - Trent's name didn't matter anymore. Not after he dumped you out of the blue, two weeks before Christmas. He probably didn't want to buy you a gift, Javier had said when you called him up crying. It wasn't exactly the most comforting thing to hear, but at least he made you laugh.

"And why is it you don't want to attend this event by yourself? I thought you would have wanted to take some poor secretary back to your room for the evening," you said, flipping the dishwasher closed before playfully adding, "This better not be some sick move to try to get into my pants again." Javi pulled out his carton of cigarettes and began to anxiously tap it against his palm. When you whisked by, you smacked it out of his hand with a warning: do not smoke in my house.

"You've made it very clear I won't be touching your pants, hermosa," he chuckled, recalling a handful of failed attempts to get you into bed before giving up entirely. "But, uh, I've been taking one too many secretaries home lately," Javi admitted with a lopsided grin. "Got one real pissed at me for not calling her back. Had to make up a lie that I had gotten back together with an ex, so..."

Your jaw dropped and you stared daggers at him with your hands on your hips.

"So not only are you asking me to go with you to this party, but I'm supposed to pretend we're dating?" you clarified, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. When he nodded sheepishly, you tossed your hands in the hair and began to curse under your breath.

"Oh, come on! It won't be that bad! It's not like she's gonna say anything. It's just for looks. Hell, you never know. Maybe you'll meet someone at this thing. I could be doing you the favor of a lifetime," he said before hopping up to sit on your kitchen island. You smacked his knee when you walked past and he grinned.

"I have barstools, you know."

"Yeah, but I like it up here. Better view," he winked and jutted his chin towards your v-neck shirt.

"Gross," you scowled, making him laugh. He took a handful of nuts from the bowl on your counter and shook them in his hand like dice.

"So? What's it gonna be? You in?"

You watched him tip his head back, pouring some peanuts in his mouth, and you sighed. What the hell. You didn't have anything better to do.

"Fine."

Javier jumped off the counter excitedly. "Thank you! I owe you one!" he exclaimed before heading for your door. "I gotta run. I'll pick you up around noon on Friday. And, hey - bring a dress. The party is a little formal."

You rolled your eyes and groaned, then shooed him out your door. "Thanks. Now I have to figure out a damn outfit."

"You're the best!" he shouted happily from his car. You shut your door and turned around to sag against the wood, finally surrounded with silence. Something you thought you were craving until you had it, and then suddenly you realized you had never felt more alone in your life.

"Where the hell is this place?" you asked, staring out the passenger seat of Javier's jeep. It felt like the car kept climbing higher and higher, and the way your ears were popping, you were thinking your hunch was right.

"It's a hotel slash casino up in the hills," he said with a nod towards the open, winding road. "Supposed to have a hell of a view."

"Yeah, guess so," you muttered, then gasped when a clearing came into view and you saw just how high up you really were. "Oh, my god! Javi - look!"

"I'm driving, cariño," he reminded you with a smirk, but his eyes still flickered quickly over the ridge.

"Wow," you said breathlessly. The view was spectacular. Miles and miles of hills and trees surrounded a sprawling hotel/casino. If you were closer to the edge, you would be able to see a lazy river snaking around the bottom of the mountain.

"Alright. So what's the story?" you asked when you settled back in your seat. There was still a ways to go until you reached the casino, but you could see it from the road nestled into the landscape.

"What story?"

"Our story," you said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You told a girl you got back together with an ex. So, why did we originally break up?"

"Oh," Javi said, scratching his chin. "I don't know. You really think it matters?"

"Maybe. Who knows? Probably a good idea we at least talk about it," you shrugged.

Javi thought about it for a minute before snapping his fingers. "You wanted marriage and I didn't."

You made a face and shook your head.

"That would imply we're on the path to getting engaged. You really think you can fake a whole marriage because you pissed off a girl at work?"

"Yeah, good point," he mumbled before falling quiet to think about it some more. After a few minutes, he came up with another idea. "How about you were gonna move away for a job and we didn't want to do long distance, but the job fell through and you stayed?"

You nodded slowly, rolling the idea around in your head.

"Yeah, that's good. That'll work. Then one day to explain why you're single again, you can say I got another job offer out of state or something."

"Exactly."

"Alright. Easy enough," you hummed, then turned to gaze out your window again. Javi watched you for a few minutes out of the corner of his eye, his jaw working back and forth while he tried to come up with the right words to express his gratitude.

"Hey, uh," he said, clearing his throat. You turned to look at him expectantly. "I just wanna thank you again. I know you're going through a tough time and all that-"

"Don't mention it," you said dismissively. "It's not a big deal. Plenty of guys out there, right?"

Javi gave you a tight smile. "Yeah. Sure."

One thing that you didn't have a chance to fully think through was the sleeping situation. As Javi checked you in and you heard the girl at the front desk confirm one king sized bed, you felt yourself stiffen. He signed and grabbed the keys, then shot you a warm smile before gesturing towards the elevators. From the looks of it, Javier didn't mind one bit. Then, of course, it was Javier...

"No funny business," you declared when you entered your room and Javier flopped down tiredly on the huge bed. "You stick to your side, I'll stick to mine."

"Whatever you say, cariño," he replied with his eyes closed. "I'll be reminding you of that later tonight when you're all over me after a few drinks."

"That was one time and I told you I was sorry!" you exclaimed, cheeks burning from the memory.

Your relationship in the past with Javier was... complicated. When you first met, it felt like you kept seeking each other out at all the worst times. Whenever you made a move, he was unavailable, and vice versa. Eventually, you had decided to just be friends and left it at that. And it worked well. You had an easy relationship where it felt effortless and natural to go to the other with some exciting news, and sought a shoulder to cry on if something bad happened. It just seemed to work better without the romantic element.

All of that aside, at the crux of the issue was you were a romantic, through and through. You liked being in long term relationships. You enjoyed the comfort and peace it brought. Javier, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. You couldn't even remember the last time he brought the same girl out for drinks more than once and you had a suspicion he had never been in love.

"I'm just messing with you. Can't help it, I like when you're all flustered," Javi said before sitting up with a groan. When he stretched, you found your eyes drifting down to where his shirt rode up, revealing a small sliver of bronzed skin. You swallowed and forced yourself to look away because no matter how many times you reminded yourself it would never work between you, it didn't stop you from being unbearably attracted to him.

It was the confidence that he exuded. That was what you had finally decided was the thing that kept you drawn to him in a decidedly less-than-friendly way. But of course, you were quick to remember you weren't the only one who was attracted to his charm. Half the women in the city noticed it, too. You had just gotten very good at hiding it.

"What time's the party start?" you asked, hauling your duffel bag onto the bed so you could begin to unpack your toiletries. The first thing you did was take out the dark red slinky dress you bought so you could steam out the wrinkles with the iron packed away in the coat closet. What you didn't notice was the way Javier's eyes greedily locked onto the fabric while you moved around the room.

"Uh..." he murmured, his pulse quickening when he saw the plunging neckline of your dress. "That new?"

You furrowed your brow and turned around. "Yeah. I didn't exactly have anything suitable so I went shopping. Why? You don't like it?"

"No, no... it's perfect," he assured you. Javier blinked a few times, snapping himself out of it, and looked at you. "Very... festive."

You grinned and hung up the dress on the back of the bathroom door. "Thanks. I thought so, too. So... the party? What time?"

"Oh, right. Cocktail hour starts at five, dinner's at seven then dancing or whatever til who knows when."

You glanced at your watch and made a face after you did a quick pass with the iron.

"I better get in the shower, then," you said, grabbing your things. Javier leaned back onto the headboard and flicked on the television with the ease of a man who didn't intend on putting in much work on his appearance for evening. However, once you finished your hair and makeup and stepped out of the bathroom in that damn dress, he suddenly felt like he should have tried a little harder.

"Maybe I should put something in my hair," he muttered, his fingers flicking through the dark locks as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. You appeared in the doorway of the bathroom looking way too fucking attractive to be his date, let alone masquerading as his girlfriend. Your brows pinched together as you looked at his hair and it took every last ounce of willpower not to let his eyes fall to your cleavage in that tight dress.

"I think your hair looks good," you said. When you reached up to fix a stray piece of his hair, he cleared his throat and twisted away.

"Alright, let's get this thing over with," he mumbled as he slid past you and headed towards the door.

"What's got you so grumpy?"

"Nothing. Just need a drink and a smoke."

"You're gonna abandon me with a bunch of DEA agents to go smoke for ten minutes?" you whined, following him out of your hotel room towards the elevators.

"You could always join me. You'd look like Bette Davis smoking a cigarette and wearing that dress," he replied when you both stepped inside the elevator. He tapped the lobby button and grinned down at you.

"You and Bette Davis," you laughed, rolling your eyes.

"What? She made smoking look so damn cool."

"Yeah, well, I think I'm going to pass," you told him. "I'll get a drink and mingle. Maybe find one of the girls you pissed off and have a cat fight."

Javi chuckled and shook his head. "That's a long list, baby. Shouldn't be too hard."

When the elevator doors slid open, you could hear the music thumping from the ballroom and laughter echoing off the walls.

"Sounds like they didn't waste any time," you said to Javier.

"Are you kidding? When the government gives you an open bar, you fucking milk it," he replied before taking one step towards the front doors. "You sure you're good for a few?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," you said, waving him off. He nodded and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. Before he even made it to the door, he slipped one in between his lips.

The ballroom was pretty full already, Javi was right: when government employees have a chance to let loose, they jump at the opportunity. The entire room was decorated in Christmas lights, garland, and at least five different trees. The DJ was cycling through a mix of Christmas carols, pop music, and classic rock. Some people already shaking their hips on the dance floor with drinks in their hands. You spotted two different bars set up, so you made your way to the nearest one and ordered a white wine. As you waited, you bopped your head along to the beat of Last Christmas while mindlessly scrolling on your phone.

"Jack Daniels, neat," a man's deep voice said from beside you when the bartender placed your wine glass on a coaster. You thanked him and slid a few dollars across the bar before taking a sip.

"Excuse me... have we met?"

You turned to look at your neighbor and slowly shook your head. He was cute. Blonde hair parted to one side, mustache, lean but strong physique and sparkling blue eyes.

"No, we haven't," you said before offering your hand and name.

"Steve," he grinned, giving your hand a firm shake before accepting his drink with a nod and a couple bucks in the tip jar. "What department do you work in?"

"Oh, I don't work for the DEA, I'm here with someone," you said, leaning closer. You watched his face fall when you implied you weren't single and you pursed your lips. How the hell would Javi expect you to meet anyone when you had to pretend to be his girlfriend?

"I mean, just a friend. A good friend," you added, praying you didn't blow Javi's cover the first time you opened your mouth. "Uh, what do you do?"

"I'm an agent," he told you, chest puffing with pride. "Takin' down drug rings one scumbag at a time."

"Wow. That's so impressive," you gushed. You saw the way his cheeks flushed a bit and preened when he glanced down at your chest. "That must be so hard. What's your favorite part about the job?"

"Goin' to the Christmas party and meeting beautiful women like you," he shot back smoothly, making you giggle and toss your hair flirtatiously over your shoulder. Steve's gaze dragged up and down your dress appreciatively before adding, "I mean it. You look stunning. Should've known someone like you didn't work for the DEA."

"Oh, stop," you giggled, feeling your face warm from his compliment.

"Where are you sitting? Maybe I can convince you to dance after dinner? Now fair warning, I got two left feet, but I got a feeling no one's gonna be lookin' at me," Steve grinned, taking a step closer and grazing his thumb along your bare arm.

"Hmm, that sounds-"

"Murphy."

You both twisted around to find Javier storming across the room. And storming was really the only word for it. His fists were clenched and his jaw pulled tight like he was about to take a swing at Steve.

"Javi," you greeted him sweetly with a smile. At the same time, Steve said, "Peña."

"What's going on here?" he asked, sidling up so he could wedge himself between you and Steve.

"Nothing. Steve and I were just talking," you said innocently.

"Looked like more than that," Javier huffed. His tone and the serious look on his face made you falter. Did you do something wrong?

"Well-"

"I was just asking her for a dance after dinner. Relax, Jav," Steve joked with a playful punch to his shoulder. When Javi remained stoic and unmoving at your side, the smile slowly slipped from Steve's face.

"Oh, shit. Sorry. I thought you were just friends."

"We are," you said quickly, but Steve was already backing away.

"Enjoy your night! It was lovely to meet you," Steve said with a wink before disappearing into the crowd. You swiveled on your heel to glare at Javi.

"Why didn't you correct him?" you seethed.

Javi just shrugged, his relaxed demeanor slipping back in place, and leaned up against the bar to flag down a bartender. "You can do better than Steve."

"Who are you to say?" you argued back after he ordered a whiskey. "We were clicking! And he's cute, why-"

"'Cause I don't want you fucking my partner, hermosa, that's why," Javi snapped. Your eyes widened and you clamped your mouth shut for a moment.

"He's your partner? Why didn't you ever introduce us before? He's-"

"C'mon, let's go find the appetizers or something," he said after snatching his glass from the bar top. It was very evident you wouldn't be getting any more information out of Javier so you decided to drop the subject. But as the happy hour inched along with your third drink in your hand and Javi's arm finding a permanent home around your waist as he introduced you to his coworkers, your mind kept drifting back to that hardened look he had given you and Steve. The butterflies in your stomach churned to life every time you thought about it, your memory twisting things so you could pretend he was jealous over you flirting with another man. It wasn't that hard to imagine, really. He could hardly keep himself from touching either your waist or lower back or grabbing your hand. It fed the little fantasy in your head, deluding yourself into thinking he was subtly trying to claim you in front of the whole party, warning others to stay away.

You had given up reminding yourself that the fake relationship schtick was just an act by the end of dinner. It was too nice to pretend otherwise.

Javi had been wrapped up in a long winded conversation with the man seated on the other side of him, but your heart was fluttering the whole time because from the moment he set his silverware down, his hand hadn't once left your leg.

With a dreamy smile plastered across your face, your eyes casually drifted around the room. People were already beginning to dance but many still remained at their dinner tables chatting. You had been quietly admiring the artwork on the walls and sipping from your glass when you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It was hard to explain, but you just felt like someone was staring at you. Doing your best to be subtle, you shifted in your seat and let your gaze wander around the room again until you found the source.

There was a table to your left, half of which was empty, but five young women remained staring in your direction. Some had drinks dangling from their fingers, one had a scowl and another was leaning in to whisper something in her ear.

There was no question one of the girls must have been one of Javi's scorned lovers. If not all of them. Your heart sunk a little when you saw how beautiful they were and you forced yourself to look away.

Javier was handsome, he had charm, and he was funny. A lethal combination that managed to get him in bed with some extremely drop dead gorgeous women. It was then you felt your insecurities flare up. How could anyone buy you were a couple when he was used to having girls like that on his arm?

With Javier still talking, you stood up from your chair, suddenly feeling flustered and overwhelmed.

He stopped speaking mid sentence to look up and ask, "Where are you going?"

"Uh," you glanced around and swallowed nervously. "I think I just need some fresh air. I'll be right back."

"I'll go with you," he said, immediately standing. "I'll catch up with you later, Jim," Javi added over his shoulder before hurrying to catch up with you. When his palm pressed against your back, your feet automatically slowed.

"What's going on? Drink too much?"

"No. Well, maybe. I don't know," you rambled, eyes scanning for the exit. "I just feel like I don't fit in here."

"What? Why?" he asked, grabbing your arm and spinning you around. His face was filled with concern as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "You're doing great, cariño. I thought you were having fun."

"I was. I am," you stammered, and then your gaze landed on the table of girls, most of which had moved on to something else.

Before you could tear your eyes away, Javier noticed where you were looking and sighed.

"Yeah, sorry. I told you, I pissed off a woman or two here."

"It's not that," you mumbled, now staring down at the floor.

"Then what is it?"

You felt your cheeks flush and you couldn't look him in the eye when you finally admitted, "They're really pretty, Javi."

He just scoffed and took your hand in his.

"You're prettier."

You laughed lightly and shook your head. "Yeah, right. It's a good thing there's an open bar. Otherwise, I'm not sure people would believe we're together when you're usually seen with girls like that."

"Hey," Javi said softly. He hooked a finger under your chin and tilted it up so you would look at him. "Don't say that. You look better than anyone else here. If you weren't already, I'd be trying to get you up to my room right now," he said with a smirk. You giggled a little and sighed.

"Sorry. I guess I just had a moment or something," you said, breathing deep. Javi looked around the room and noticed how the dance floor was beginning to fill up.

"Wanna dance?"

You smiled and pulled your lower lip between your teeth as you watched others having fun on the dance floor. Without waiting for your answer, Javi tugged your hand and tilted his head, urging you to follow him. "C'mon, don't leave me hanging."

You laughed and let him lead you to the dance floor, weaving through the throngs of people until he found a little wiggle room, but right when he turned back to look at you with a big, goofy smile, the fast tempo switched to a much slower ballad. Javi cocked an eyebrow at you and extended a hand, unphased.

With a smile of your own, you took his hand and let him pull you in close. His fingers laced together with yours while his other arm wrapped around your middle and your free hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Hey, you can dance," he teased when you fell into rhythm with him effortlessly.

"Of course I can dance," you said, rolling your eyes. Being that close to him, you could smell his aftershave, the whiskey on his breath, and a faint hint of cigarette smoke from earlier. The smell you had unknowingly grown to love. The smell that was, simply put, Javier.

You gazed up at him, smiling at the little pink tinting his cheeks and the glassy look in his eye. He looked so fucking adorable it almost pained you.

"Can I ask you something, Javi?" you asked quietly. His eyes softened at your tone and he nodded. "Why were you so mad earlier when I was talking to Steve? Really?"

The corner of his mouth twitched and his eyes flickered somewhere behind you as he considered his answer.

"I think you know why."

When he looked back down at you, the playfulness was gone. His eyes carried something else in them. Something he couldn't bring himself to say. Then your heart skipped a beat and your breath caught in your throat when you saw it. The look you had been aching to see from him for years. The same look you were giving him at the very same time.

And then it hit you. Yeah, you knew why.

It turned out Javier was much more popular at work than you ever expected. You had spent the rest of your dance trying to come up with the right thing to say, but you panicked and lost your chance when Javier's boss nudged his shoulder while dancing with his wife. The four of you fell into a conversation - the men about work, you and his boss's wife about Christmas bargains - in the middle of the dance floor. When you realized you were in the way, the conversation moved to the bar. After that, an investigator joined in the conversation with her girlfriend and before you knew it, it was nearly midnight and the moment you had with Javi on the dance floor was long forgotten.

Or so you thought.

It had been a long night. You were exhausted and your feet ached from the new shoes you picked out to match your dress. You had hoped to possibly find an opening and talk to Javi about what you thought he implied during your dance, but while you were waiting for him to wash up, you passed out cold.

One thing you knew for certain was you were on your side of the bed when you fell asleep. You knew that because your side faced the bathroom and you had rolled over to wait for Javi before you fell asleep. However, you couldn't explain why you woke up around three in the morning with your cheek resting on his shoulder and your arm wrapped around his waist.

Well, maybe you could explain it. It was probably your subconscious trying to seek him out after spending the evening being so close to him. No matter the reason, you knew you had to sneak back to your side of the bed before he woke up, so you slowly began to extract your arm.

"Where're you goin'?" Javi murmured sleepily. Your eyes widened and your heart began to race.

"Nowhere, just go back to sleep," you whispered, pulling your arm away. Just as you were about to roll over, Javi's hand shot out to grab your wrist. You froze, cheek still pressed against his shoulder, and slowly lifted your eyes up to meet his.

It was hard to see in the dark, but from what you could tell, he was wide awake. His dark brown eyes continued to study your face while you fumbled for words.

"Javi?" you said, voice sounding so small in the quiet room. His eyes flickered anxiously between yours for another moment before he came to his decision. In one quick movement, he had rolled you onto your back, his hips fitting perfectly between your legs as he caged you in.

"Javi," you said again, although this time sounding far more breathless and aroused than you intended.

He swallowed tightly, gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips before he whispered, "Do you feel it too, cariño?"

You shifted underneath him, eyelids fluttering when you felt his arousal pressing up against the inside of your thigh.

"Yes," you whispered back.

His mouth crashed against yours in an instant. It was rougher than you expected it to be but you didn't mind. You understood because you felt it, too. All that time wasted, dancing around something that was right in front of you the entire time. It was bound to drive anyone a little crazy, a little hungry.

Before you knew it, your fingers were in his hair, dragging down his shoulders, and then tugging at his shirt, and all the while his mouth remained cemented against yours. He had to pull away to yank his white tshirt over his head and you heard yourself make a pathetic little noise, like you couldn't possibly survive without his kiss, not even for one second.

"Take this off," he panted, lifting your oversized shirt halfway up your torso. You didn't need to be told twice. You flung it off and pulled Javier back down before he even had a chance to take a good look at your bare chest.

Everything was moving so fast but given the amount of time it took you to get there, it felt like a fucking eternity. He expertly tugged your shorts and underwear off while your tongues fought for dominance in each other's mouths. It wasn't even until you felt his fingers brush against your cunt that you realized you were entirely undressed.

"Oh, god... Javi!" you cried out brokenly when he slipped two fingers inside of you.

His mouth fell to your chin and he made a strangled sound, curling his fingers when he said, "Fuck, baby, when you say my name like that..."

His hand maintained a steady rhythm between your legs, reaching for that spot that made your back curl off the bed every time he thrusted inside. His other hand got lost in your hair, tipping your face so he could feverishly lock his lips with yours while dragging your first orgasm to the surface with a few circles over your sensitive clit.

"Javi! Wait... I'm gonna - I'm gonna come -" you gasped, unable to stop your hips from rolling up and meeting his hand.

"Go ahead, hermosa. I got you."

"No," you whimpered, muscles going tense. You were getting to the point of no return and you needed to stop him. "I wanna - I want you to fuck me, Javi. I - I wanna -"

Your head fell back into the pillow, unable to complete your sentence.

"I am. I'm gonna fuck you," he assured you, lips ghosting the shell of your ear and wrist snapping faster between your thighs. "I'll make you come on my cock, don't worry, baby. Just let go, c'mon, you can do that for me, right?"

"Oh, fuck," you gasped, eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck, fuck, fu- yes, Javi, yes! More... please-"

"Christ, cariño, you're gonna wake the whole fucking hotel," he chuckled, but you were too far gone to care. You tilted your chin to the ceiling, his name echoing off the walls as you came. It felt like your heart was going to beat right out of your chest, like your legs were so weak you may never walk again, yet somehow it wasn't enough. Not for either of you. In fact, it only seemed to make you each more desperate.

Your kisses on his skin became messy, both of you so eager to have the other that there was no room to worry about being too fast or abrasive. Your teeth clashed together when your arm curved around his neck, yanking him down to your level. Your shared hot breaths mingled with each pant and gasp. When you reached down to wrap your fingers around the heavy weight of his cock, he moaned into your open mouth and slid his fingers from your pussy so you could line him up with your entrance, neither of you in any mood to wait a second longer.

"Fu-uck," he groaned when he pushed inside of you, burying himself to the hilt in one go. You gasped and sharply bit down on his shoulder when tears sprung up and threatened to spill down your cheeks.

"You okay?" he panted, planting weak kisses against the side of your face. All you could do was nod. He filled you and stretched you so perfectly that it took your breath away and left you speechless. He nodded, too, lips parted as he puffed for air, then began to rock his hips. Slow at first, then steady and deep.

"Javi," you moaned in his ear, sending a shiver through his body. "Shit, just like that. Oh my god, Javi, just like that!"

Javier smirked into your shoulder, fucking you with deep, long strokes as you continued to fill the room with your cries and moans.

"Never thought you'd be so goddamn loud, baby," he teased, nipping playfully at your shoulder.

"Sorry," you whined into the air. Your jaw was clenched tight, fingers clawing uselessly at his broad shoulders while he continued to pump in and out a little bit harder, a little bit faster, setting loose one of the tears that welled up in your eyes.

"Don't be sorry, I fucking love it," he groaned. He lifted himself up so he could watch your face contort with each devastating thrust. "Fucking love how you say my name. Dreamed about it for so long, you have no idea-"

"Me, too," you moaned, a second tear trickling down your cheek. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him tightly as he began to fuck you faster. His eyes flickered down to your bare chest, breasts bouncing from the force of his thrusts. Craning his neck down, he latched onto one with a groan, teeth grazing enticingly over your nipple before sucking the other one into his mouth.

"God, you're so perfect," he mumbled into the space between your breasts. "So fucking perfect, hermosa. Drove me fucking crazy all night."

Your heart stuttered before grabbing the sides of his head and pulling him up for a deep kiss. Every time he slammed inside of you, it had you seeing stars. You felt completely at his mercy, unable to think about anything else except him, him, him.

"Tell me you want more," he demanded, pulling away from your kiss so he could look you in the eye. His eyes were blown wide with lust and a few dark hairs were beginning to stick to his forehead, the image so captivating that he had you nodding dumbly to his request.

"Yes, Javi, please," you moaned, "more, please, fuck me-"

"No, I mean-"

His hips slowed and he cupped your face, chest heaving and lips parted for air as he stared down at you imploringly. "I mean, tell me you want more than just tonight. Tell me there's something else here."

You blinked rapidly and nodded, stunned he would even have to ask when you had always been the one to prefer relationships. Hardly trusting yourself to speak, you whispered, "Yeah. I want more than just tonight. I want more than just this."

A smile stretched across his face right before he lunged down to capture your lips with his own. His hips resumed their pace, snapping steadily into you and pushing you higher and higher until you stiffened and cried out his name.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, shit," he muttered, hips stuttering against you, his name still tumbling from your mouth as the last of your orgasm rippled through your body. "Baby - look at me," he begged, and it wasn't until that moment you realized your eyelids had even shut.

Tiredly, you opened your eyes to gaze up at him. The way he was looking at you caused a lump to form in your throat and you had to suppress a shiver. It was too intense all of the sudden, the air thickening between you in a matter of seconds.

"Come for me, Javi," you murmured lowly. You brought a shaky hand up to card through his damp hair, watching as his eyebrows pinched and his chin dropped, pulling out of you quickly and sitting back on his heels to fist his cock. Your hand fell back to the cool sheets beside you, unable to look away. He was hunched above you, one fist pressed into the mattress and the other jerking himself off until he stilled with a deep groan, painting your stomach with his sticky release. You couldn't even let yourself blink, doing your best to commit every detail to memory until he collapsed next to you with a heavy sigh.

"Fucking Christ," he grumbled, forearm tossed over his eyes. You giggled, face warming when you heard how raspy you sounded. Javier removed his arm and turned his head to look at you with a lopsided grin.

"You're a screamer, hermosa."

"Javi!" you cried out softly, but your broken voice only further proved his argument. He chuckled and rolled onto his side to push some hair away from your eyes.

"I was expecting a phone call from the front desk ten minutes ago."

"Shut up, Javi!" you whined, covering your face with your palms.

"Don't be embarrassed, baby, I love it," he said while pulling your hands away. You bit your lip and peered up at him, searching his face for any sign of regret and finding none. Then his face softened and he swallowed nervously before adding, "I'm in love with you."

He said it so quietly, so sweetly, that it had you wondering if you were hearing things. But then you saw the anxious look in his eye and your pulse skyrocketed.

"Really?" you asked in disbelief. Slowly, he nodded.

"Yeah. I think I've been in love with you for a while," he admitted, tracing an invisible line down your cheek.

You laughed and two fresh tears fell when you said, "I love you, too."

His mouth crashed against yours in relief and you wrapped your arms around his neck, matching smiles pressing together in stunned happiness.

"I'm sorry I wasted so much time and didn't tell you sooner," he murmured while stroking your hair.

"It doesn't matter," you replied, "we have each other now."

Javi smiled and kissed the tip of your nose.

"So, now what?" he asked.

"Now? Now I would really like to take a shower," you said, then grinned when you added, "and maybe in the morning we can do this all over again."

He laughed and rolled to his side so you could get out of bed. When his eyes locked onto your ass as you made your way to the bathroom in the dark, he flung the covers off and leapt out of bed to follow you.

"I think we're gonna need a late check out."

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[guinevereslancelot]

can't find my little ikea greenhouse anywhere so i bought a new one 🤡

[hairmetal666]

Eddie owns a record store, gets to talk about music everyday. Life is good. Great, actually.

He's consolidating the Christian rock section on a quiet Wednesday morning when it happens. A man with swoopy dark hair, tight dark blue jeans, and a plum Member's Only jacket walks in, and doesn't take his Ray Bans off even once he's solidly inside.

Eddie is awestruck. This dude is gorgeous. Heart stopping. He watches him browse in quiet astonishment, unable to say anything until he blurts, "Can I help you find something?"

The man smiles--Eddie's heart stops--and he says, "Nah, just browsing. Your sign caught my eye."

And he's still not quite with the program, the rich honey of the man's voice taking him totally by surprise. "Ah, oh, it did?" He manages after a few long beats. "Painted it myself."

"No shit? It's great."

"Thanks, man. I also think it's some of my finest work."

The guy laughs. "How can I know unless I see some of your other pieces?"

Eddie's face heats, but he's never been known for having good impulse control. "Maybe you'll get lucky."

Spots of pink bloom on the man's cheeks and the tips of his ears. "And here I was, thinking I was getting special treatment."

Eddie cocks his head, smiles big. "Well, the day's still young." It's so risky and stupid; no way this guy is queer, but he grins at Eddie, laughs a little too.

"That right? Well, tell me your latest recommendations."

"For you?" Eddie eyes him up and down. "Wham!"

The guy's laugh is warm and rich and Eddie wants to drown in it. "Big of you to say for a someone who's only listened to Enter Sandman for the last four months."

Eddie cackles, points a be-ringed finger. "It's a good song! A great record."

"Hey, I've got no problem with Metallica. I just don't think you should be casting aspersions on Wham!."

"Casting aspersions, do you have a word of the day calendar or some shit?"

"No! It's toilet paper."

Their snickers grow until they're both hysterical, needing to lean against a display to stay upright.

It's like he's living in a dream, hitting it off with a beautiful man who just happened to stumble into his store. They catch their breath and Eddie uses the time to grab a record off a nearby shelf.

"Here," he says. "Try this."

"Joni Mitchell?"

"Don't tell me, Wham! fan, that you're too cool for Joni."

"Nah, she's my best friend's favorite. How much do I owe you?"

"On the house," Eddie shrugs.

"Shit, that's generous. Thanks, man. Now, about your art--" He glances at the shiny watch on his wrist. "Fuck, is it really 3:15? Goddamnit, I gotta get going."

And Eddie wants to call him back, doesn't want this dream encounter to end, but he's dashing to the door--

And just like that, the man is gone, the only evidence it ever happened the lingering chime of the bell over the door.

The bell clatters again, and his head wrenches up hard enough it hurts his neck.

"Was that Steve Harrington?" the customer shrieks.

"No," he scoffs. Except. Except. The hair and the clothes and sunglasses and the face and his lips--

"No!?" He feels the way his eyes have gone wide with panic. He didn't just flirt with Steve Harrington. Of course not. Not ever. He would've recognized--

He runs to the racks of magazines in front of the register, grabbing the latest issue of People. The cover features a glossy, polished photo of the man who just left the store. The one who had the highest grossing movie of the summer alongside his co-star, Julia Roberts. The one who, according to the article within, is in Chicago right now shooting a new movie. The one who Eddie flirted with. The one who flirted back.

He groans and covers his face with his hands. At least he'll never see Steve Harrington again.

---

Harrington comes back.

The second time, he's wearing a jewel blue polo and fitted slacks, Ray Bans nowhere to be seen.

"Got anymore recommendations?" Steve asks.

"What?" Eddie's still trying to accept that Harrington came back.

"I finished Joni. It was good. Recommend something else for me."

Fully with the program, he reaches to the rack behind him, handing the vinyl to Steve without ever taking his eyes off him.

"Seriously?" Steve deadpans.

"Tell me you don't deserve it after last time."

Steve studies the cover of Metallica, a complicated look on his face. "Fine, but you have to listen to the album George Michael released last year."

He mimics getting shot in the heart. "After my magnanimous first suggestion, you dare to punish me with Freedom?"

"Think of it more as an opportunity."

"To regret every decision I've ever made?"

"To expand your musical horizons."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Fiiiine. It's a deal."

Steve beams. "Good! Ring me up."

And Eddie, he'd comp it again, but Steve gives him this look that tells him not to try it.

As they pass the magazine racks, Eddie points at one featuring Steve on the cover. "That thing you wore to the Vanity Fair party last month was hideous."

Steve snorts, then laughs. "Thanks. My stylist decided to go for something--"

"--terrible?--"

"Avant garde."

"Oh, is that what they're calling it these days?"

Steve pays, throws Eddie one last smile, "next time?"

Eddie nods, already certain this time is the last one.

---

He keeps coming back.

Eddie tries not to read into it.

Steve is straight, famously has a girlfriend. former horror movie child star turned cinema wunderkind, Nancy Wheeler. They're always on the covers of the tabloids, in ever more improbable stories about affairs and secret babies and french countryside weddings.

But he keeps coming back. And eventually, they grab dinner. And that dinner becomes lunches, movies, clubs, concerts. Eddie's in paparazzi photos, and there's no speculation about their relationship. Steve has a girlfriend.

But sometimes. Sometimes Steve will rest his hand on Eddie's nape, his lower back, let it linger. He'll trace a finger down the tattoos on Eddie's forearms or the patches of his battle vest. He'll lean too close when they talk, unafraid to press their bodies together. And he catches Steve's eyes on his mouth more than once, his pupils wide.

Over the next few weeks, Steve's gaze on Eddie's mouth gets hotter, his looks longer, and it's killing him. All he wants to do, all he ever wants to do, is close the distance between them, appease the gnawing beast of desire in his chest.

But Steve has a girlfriend.

They don't talk about her, not even when he knows all about Steve's best friend, Robin, and the gang of kids who adopted him, or Joyce and Hopper, his surrogate parents. Never Nancy.

He tries not to read into it.

---

They're supposed to meet for dinner. Steve scored reservations at a trendy new restaurant, but Eddie's late. Astronomically, horrifically late. It's pouring rain, it takes fifteen minutes to get a cab, traffic is a nightmare.

Out of patience and time, he decides to run the last few blocks to the restaurant. By the time he reaches the building, he's soaked to the bone, spluttering harsh breaths through mouthfuls of rain.

Steve is walking in the opposite direction, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

"Steve?" He calls.

He turns and this is the first time Eddie's seen him angry. "You're late," Steve's eyes rake over him, and his face softens in an instant. He takes Eddie's wrist, leads him into an alley where the buildings are close enough to block some of the rain.

"What happened?"

"Traffic."

Steve's gaze go all soft and gentle, and Eddie's knees buckle a little. "You look like a drowned rat."

"Yeah, well." Eddie scoffs. "We can't all be beautiful movie stars."

"You're more beautiful than I could ever be, even soaking wet."

He shakes his head, ignoring the cascade of butterflies; Steve shouldn't say things like that. His vigorous movement sends wet strands of hair slapping him in the face.

Steve reaches out, softly brushes it back.

Eddie stops breathing.

Steve closes the distance between them.

What a thing, to be kissed by Steve Harrington. What a terrible, glorious thing.

He breaks it fast, face red, can't catch his breath. "Nancy," is all he can say.

"Nancy?"

"You have a girlfriend."

Steve's face scrunches. "She's not my girlfriend."

Eddie's mouth drops. "Yes, she is." They went to the Oscars together.

"Eddie." Steve takes a few steps back. "Eddie. I'm gay."

He laughs, an ugly honking thing. "C'mon. What could she possibly get out of that?"

Steve's eyes widen, eyebrows reaching his hairline, mouth pursed in a bitchy line. It takes Eddie a minute but, "Ohhhhh. So, it's all--?"

"It was the best way."

"But you're--?"

"I thought you clocked me immediately! Wham!???"

"That was because of the jacket!"

"Have you ever met a straight man who dresses like I do and likes George Michael??"

"That describes five dudes I see a day!"

"And you thought they were straight??"

Eddie stares into the middle distance, replaying some of those interactions, and--"Huh. Okay. I get hit on at work waaay more than I realized."

"For fuck's sake, Eddie!" He's shaking his head, but Eddie sees the way the corners of his mouth shake with suppressed laughter.

"I'm sorry! You have a very public straight relationship!"

Steve giggles, pulls Eddie close. "Is this okay?"

"So okay."

"You do like me back?"

"Are you kidding! Thought I was going insane, how much I want you."

"And now?"

"Come back to my place?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

And Eddie, he's seen Steve playing at love dozens of times, but this--right here, in a soggy, smelly alley where they're both soaking wet--it's more perfect than any movie.

[skys-archive]

I think in honor of pride month and also in general forever we should stop trying fit queer people into the identities we think they should call themselves.

And I know no one is going to see this because no one ever does but I'm going to talk about it anyway because this is important.

Bisexual doesn't mean you don't date trans people, it doesn't mean you like men and women, it doesn't mean you can't have a preference. Someone can identify as polysexual or bisexual or omnisexual and have no preference and you don't get to say that that means they're pansexual. Because no, if they don't identify as pansexual then they're not pansexual.

Transmasc doesn't mean you use he/him pronouns. It doesn't mean you identify as a man. Transfem doesn't mean you use she/her pronouns. It doesn't mean you identify as a woman. You can be nonbinary or genderqueer or agender or any gender that isn't binary and not use they/them pronouns. You can use any of those labels and still identify as a man or a woman. You can use different pronouns than is typically used for your birth sex and not consider yourself transgender. People can be gender non conforming and not he trans. People can be trans and not gender non conforming.

A trans man can be fem. A trans woman can be masc. Nonbinary people don't owe you androgyny. Intersex people don't owe you androgyny. Intersex people are people, they deserve way more attention than a way to one up transphobes. Intersex people face discrimination and body altering surgeries without their consent and then are only ever talked about to say "some cis women have penises" or "some people have an extra x chromosome" and then we never talk about the struggle they face as part of the queer community.

Asexuality and aromanticism is a spectrum. Some aces like sex, some aces are repulsed, some aces only experience sexual attraction to one person or once in their life, some aces need a deep emotional bond, some aces their attraction changes. Some aros change identities. Some aros are repulsed by romance unless it's a fictional character. Some aros have romantic feelings until they get to know someone. Some aros crave a romantic relationship but never have romantic feelings. You don't get to say someone isn't asexual or aromantic enough.

Asexuality and aromanticism is having a unique relationship with romance or sexual feelings and impulses. Someone who is transgender has a unique experience with gender. You don't get to decide that they don't have a unique experience. But guess what? You don't get to decide if they do either. Someone can have a unique experience and still not identify as asexual aromantic or transgender. You can cross dress and still fully feel like a man. You can use he/him pronouns as a cis women. You can have trauma around sex and not identify as asexual. You can never have a romantic relationship and not identify as aromantic.

You can have "contradicting" labels. I don't know as many of these because I don't personally identify as any but please fell welcome to add in reblogs. There are trans men lesbians and gay women. There are sex loving asexuals. I know there are others I just genuinely am not educated enough.

YOU DONT GET TO CHOOSE SOMEONES LABELS

ANYONE CAN EITHER IDENTIFY OR NOT IDENTIFY AS QUEER

Please feel welcome to add anything in reblogs. I'm sure there's things I've missed. I haven't talked about neopronouns I haven't talked enough about "contradicting" labels. I haven't talked about queer platonic relationships or kink or polyamory or enough about intersex people or pronouns vs gender. There's so much important things but at the end of the day it's just so important to not choose other people's labels.