#Self-Indulge Moodboard? ofc

[aiza-luna]

Assassin's Creed Syndicate Ship: Solob Aesthetic

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"... But in this Handmade Heaven, I come alive

Blue Birds forever, color the sky

In this Handmade Heaven, we forget the time

'Cause Birds of a Feather fly together..."

- Handmade Heaven, Marina and the Diamonds -

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"Mr. Frye... Please understand, this is ludicrous! We..."

"Solange, the only ludicrous thing is trying to deny what we both feel... What the both of us desire."

"Do you not see, Mr. Frye? This is simply our instincts talking, thinking about yourself! What good would be persuing a sick woman such as myself?"

"Solange, please, stop this! Do not speak of yourself like that! I don't care! I don't care if you have Vitiligo! I love you, and I'll keep loving you! I would love you even if you were a damn leper!"

"I... Jacob..."

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Another Aesthetic bc I'm in the AC brainrot while cooking Sol's refs!! This time, I decided to build in Aesthetic of my dear OTP that I have been presenting for a while: SOLOB! Solange and Jacob! 🥹🤲🏽💛💚

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I absolutely LOVE their relationship dynamic! From strangers, to friends, to lovers! It's so nice seeing their relationship evolve as the story progresses, how they both balance each other out and how both support each other through their issues... Their love is something that warms my heart and I'm so excited to work with them in the future!

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As always, Credit Time for some creators that inspired me to post my work and ship (yipeee) 🥹🥰🙏🏽

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CREDITS:

Aesthetic/ Moodboard inspos: @nemo-of-house-hamartia / @thatcrazycrowgirl / @mattness and their shipps with Jacob Frye ( Dorothea x Jacob / Magnolia x Jacob / Gwendolyn x Jacob respectivelly 🩵)

Images from Pinterest, all credits to their original posters/ creators.

Solange Cotoner's Faceclaim: Jihane Kidari (Moroccan Actress)

Jacob Frye and Assassin's Creed Syndicate by Ubisoft

Master Assassin/ Lady Solange Teresa Vivianne Cotoner-Artois (OC) by yours truly 🫶🏽🩵

[bemysinphony]

My pretty girl

pairing: txt yeonjun x f!reader

genre: os, au, (very sweet) smut

summary: you're working on your insecurities about your body and your boyfriend has been playing a key role in it, helping in making you feel loved, comfortable, and grateful most of all.

warnings under the cut!

warnings: reader is insecure about her body – particularly her thighs, yj's lips have a central role in this 🤚, cunnilingus (ofc), fingering, pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, love), praising – yj's has a praising kink (ofc), both reader and yj's love language is words of affirmation <3

word count: 1,5k

notes: guess who's back with a fic!! unbelievable i know 🙃 this is very sweet and soft as always but also self-indulgent and vulnerable..where's my partner that's gonna love me, desire me and cherish me like yeonjun does with y/n?! 😓hope you enjoy <3

just a quick disclaimer that the third picture in the moodboard above is not the most fitting for reader's body type but it's the only one i could find that almost perfectly represented the image in my mind while i was writing, so i went for it 🙏

Your hands are on his shoulders, pushing him down until he sits on the edge of the bed. He immediately spreads his legs to make room for you and his hands caress your hips inviting you in. You take the opportunity instead to bring your knee to his crotch, applying a slight pressure. Slight, but enough to make him delightfully groan for you.

"I love your sounds" you whisper, teasingly tracing his collarbones with your fingertips, your other hand resting on his thigh to keep you balanced as you lean over him.

He's trying to calm down his already labored breath, his hungry gaze on your mouth further confirming his desires. His left hand reaches for your face, bringing you closer to him again. "You and your gorgeous lips...", with his thumb he brushes the skin.

"Yours are definitely prettier than mine" your eyebrows furrow, "I've nerver saw a man with lips this pretty in my life" you insist, caressing them too with the tips of your fingers, bewitched by their natural color and puffyness.

He blushes, even the tips of his ears are turning red. He hopes that the almost darkness of the room hides it but, as soon as your smile gets wider, he knows you definitely noticed. It's not his fault he loves praise so much, he really can't help it, it makes the butterflies in his stomach turn into a rousing tornado.

"Well, I don't agree with your first statement... but it feels good knowing you think that." He doesn't leave you time to complain, finally capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss.

Your hands slide up to his face, fingers playing with his velvety lobes turning him on even more while you bite and suck on his lips.

The urge to feel his skin on yours is growing by the second and he's clearly feeling the same way, confirming it by grabbing your hips to pull you forward. He's been trying not to seem as disperate as he in fact is, but he can't take it anymore. Turning your shared needs into words, he whispers, "I need you closer..."

"Me too..." you nod breathing heavily, "can I get rid of these?" you ask playing with the button of his pants.

"Yeah, please" he rises his hips to help you remove them, biting his lip when you graze his bulge.

Once he guides you to sit on his lap, the fabric of your dress rises, revealing most of your thighs in all their glory. They are so cute and soft that he'd like to bend over and pepper them with kisses right away. Instead he strokes them, triggering chills all over your back. "So pretty..."

Your cheeks heat up, embarrassed because you're still somewhat insicure of them, yet pleased he's able to help you feel more comfortable in your own skin. To thank him, you slowly start to roll your hips against his, making him unable to keep his moans from escaping his lips. He can't believe you're already making a whimpering mess out of him and nothing really happened yet. Moving on to cupping your ass cheeks and playing with the hems of your panties, he speaks his mind again: "I want to eat you out so bad... can I?"

Your heartbeat quickens, filling your ears and your chest, and you can feel it in your stomach as well, right were it meets the pulsations of your core.

"Please do it."

"Yeah?" He giggles at the urgency of your tone. "Are you comfortable with that?" He's surprised by how sure you are about it this time.

"Absolutely, yes, mmh mmh" you stroke the nape of his neck and give him a reassuring smile.

You're tired of shying away from something you want more than just from time to time. You saw and heard multiple times the way he feels about your body, you know it's all in your head, you want to stop depriving yourself of pleasure because of insecurities.

He gets up holding your legs - that immediately wrap around his waist - and gently lays your back on the mattress. "Tell me if you feel uncomfortable, alright? Anytime you can stop me" he makes sure, eyes looking straight into yours.

"Yeah" you nod and take a deep breath, "I promise".

He pushes the hem of the dress up to your lower stomach and starts peppering kisses all over it, making you giggle. Discending to the the front of your thighs, he leaves some kitten licks on the flush skin. "My pretty girl" he mutters against it.

You keep your hands over your mouth, losely closed in fists, hypnotised by the view of his plump lips coming in contact with your body. Your is heart in your throat, anticipating his next move.

When his eyes flutter open, he takes in your rosy cheeks and your sparkling eyes before staring into them again. "Are you okay with me going on?"

"I am" you breathly confirm, "one hundred percent."

"Good, just promise me you're going to let me hear all your lovely sounds too" he asks referencing your hands, shooting you a wink. A warm smile spreading in between your cheeks, you assure him you will.

He slowly slides your panties down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to his gaze. Once again the look he gifts you is eager, and it fills your chest with confidence. His hands are now sprawled on your thighs, gently spreading them apart. He wastes no time and lowers his face closer to your heat, his warm breath fanning over your glistening lips. He's only giving you some experimental licks but you're already blissfully moaning. "J-junnie give me more please, I need more" you beg him even though you know you don't have to get what you want: Yeonjun is always ready to fulfill your desires, no matter how small or big they are.

He looks up smirking before starting to give attention to your neglected bud above, alternatively sucking and drawing little circles with his skilled tongue. When he detaches his lips for a second to breathe, he notices you clenching and your arousal gushing out, and he can't help but growing harder in his boxers. "Fuck baby, you are so hot..."

"ah- I am actually... can you help me get out of this dress?" you jokingly answer surprising him.

"Sure" he chuckles moving closer to help you carefully pull it off your head. He's so glad you felt comfortable enough to wear it to dinner that night. You looked absolutely beautiful with the smooth fabric hugging your curves in all the right ways. That dress was basically made for you to wear, it would have been a shame for if to keep staying in your closet forever, waiting for the day you will finally wear it like you always dreamed of. The last thing he wanted though was for you to feel pressured: "trust me when i say you're breathtaking in it, but i don't want to you to force yourself to wear it if you don't feel like it, sweetheart", he told you the day you decided to try it once again while you where reorganising your closet. It took you some time to finally wear it in public, but the day came, and he was so glad he got to experience seeing your face light up with joy and relief when you looked at yourself in the mirror and liked how you looked. Step by step, day by day, you've come so far and he was so proud of you.

With the fabric gone, he happly admires the view in front of him: your hair scattered on the comforter framing your crimson cheeks, the delicate plush skin of your breasts gathered in your lovely lacy bra, your cute soft belly, the tender curve of your hips... no amount of "pretty, gorgeous, lovely, hot" is ever going to be enough to emphasize how beautiful you are to his eyes, so he decides to show you. He returns to his previous ministrations, dividing his attention to different parts of your body: his mouth on your core, his right fingers tickling your entrance - it doesn't take much before they slip inside hitting your velvety walls just right - while his left hand strokes your thigh, reaching to cup one of your breasts moments later.

All type of sounds can't stop falling out of your mouth, the pleasure spreading and reaching every single corner of your body. Every time he groans, the vibrations he produces brings you closer to the edge. Your heart is galloping in your ribcage, you ask yourself if he's able to hear it too.

"You taste so good sweetheart" he savours, "it's never enough".

As you come undone, your hands run to his, busy massaging your breasts, squeezing it while a trail of his repeated name - "jun, jun, jun, oh my god" - leaves your lips.

"My sweet baby, you did so good, look at you" he praises massaging your shaking hips. "Did you enjoy it?" despite the clear reaction of your body, he wanted to hear you say it.

"A lot...", you smile contently, "thank u love". You reach for his shoulders, inviting him to come closer and hug you, and when your arms fold around him, holding him tightly to your warm chest, he swears his heart could burst.

He looks up at you, his juicy lips glistening with traces of your arousal, looking incredibly inviting. He starts licking them and immediately catches the disappointed expression on your face: he rushes to your own mouth to share a kiss and let you taste yourself on his.

"Better?" he asks.

"Yeah" you answer.

You're smiling to yourself, asking how the hell were you so lucky to find someone that's truly head over heels for you, that makes you feel so loved and cherished and appreciated. You feel like crying with joy.

"Baby, is everything okay?" His tender voice asks. He noticed your glossy eyes.

"Yeah, i'm just thinking about how lucky i am... to have of you in my life", you say as if it was a stupid reaction he should pay no mind to, running your fingers over your eyelids to quickly chase the tears away. But he stops you, taking your face into his hands and stroking your cheeks lovingly. "Oh sweetheart... me too".

He starts planting a series of soft kisses all over them, letting your tears roll down freely. "You don't even imagine how happy and proud you make me."

feedback is always appreciated, thank u for reading!! <3

[starrydaycare]

Self indulgent puppy age regression moodboard based off of myself when I'm a girl 🎀

None of the photos above belong to me ofc! 🎀🧁

[mouthwilloing]

Polle Says ... (Un)Emotional Support Animal Mocktail + Painkillers !

⟣ self-indulgent ! this is one of our absolute FAVORITE songs ,,, our core always rlly liked it for kin stuff and we figured we could do with a little ginger freak hanging around headspace again (not trying to replace the core, ofc) ⟢

Name

Andreas , Archer , Cassius , Torben , Evander , Calix , Damien , Ryker , Trace , Whit , Castor , Pollux , Corbin , Arden , Adrian , Caim , Dexter , Remy , Calder , Killian , Roman , Colby

Pronouns

he / him , hx / hxm , they / them , thxy / thxm , it / its , xe / xem , scrap / scraps , fight / fights , cig / cigs , aux / auxes , dog / dogs , bark / barks , bite / bites , 💥 / 💥s , 💢 / 💢s , 🐕 / 🐕s , 🦷 / 🦷s , 🩸 / 🩸s , 🚬 / 🚬s

Age

teenager (14-17)

Species

human

Gender

masc , neu , transgender , demiboy , neoboy

Attraction

bisexual , asexual

Role

Avenger , Anger Holder , Last Resort , Skullcrusher , Advocate

Likes

dogs , personal space , people taking the time to understand them

Dislikes

assumptions being made about them , being talked about like they're not in the room , being ordered around , authority figures

Interests

history , psychology , thanatology , music

Personality (simple)

short-tempered , scrappy , aggressive , quick to lash out , slow to trust , very open once they like you

Faceclaims

1 ⟡ 2 ⟡ 3

Moodboard

Signoffs

💥🐕 , 🦷🩸 , 👊💥 , 🦴🔊 , 🔒💥 , ⛓️🦷 , 🩸⛓️

[sunspearesque]

Masterlist:

minors dni (!) most of the work is intended for individuals aged 18 and above.

AO3 • moodboards • art

Series:

Whispers Of Vendetta (coming soon)

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC

Summary: “The Septons and the Singers like to say that the snakes did not bite, but the truth is very different”

OR

my self-indulgent AU

One Shots:

The Bereaved Dunes

Summary: a headcanon depicting the moment Oberyn received the news of Elia's death and how his mind grappled with such a profound tragedy.

Fruitful

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC from WoV

Summary: Oberyn Martell, a lover of great generosity, expresses his love primarily through acts of service. With a keen memory, he spares no effort to exceed expectations in bringing joy to his beloved.

OR

“the orange theory” headcanon

Nectar

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC from WoV

Summary: by the Old Gods and the New, there exists no greater solace than the taste of one's lover following a wearisome day.

Forbidden Fervor

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC from WoV

Summary: Douse the fervor raging within, bestow upon me the forbidden release, frigid and honed, dripping with crimson... Let it carve through my dread as relentlessly as time erodes the vigor from an aged soul.

‘Tis You, My Great Love

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC from WoV

Summary: I've been betrothed to fear since the mists of memory, “the bride of despair,” they named me. And there, by the shore, you found me… sorrow veiling my face, and wounds blooming like tulips in my hands. But lo, you, my great love, now stand, lifting the veil and bidding my fears depart with each tender kiss. “Stay,” I say, “stay for all eternity.”

[boneyboyy]

Could I pretty please request you make a self indulgent flag, icon set, moodboard, headcanons, whatever your heart desires for yourself? - 🐇💕

yes ofc! i would love to do smth self indulgent :3 Decided to do a Beth Greene icon set bc she's so so me !

◞ㅤ@wildereg 's puppyreg & ㅤㅤ@plushself 's toddler regressor X3

[zepskies]

Funnily enough, this is the first time I've ever written a professor AU! But thank you, lovely!! I loooooove the color scheme of the moodboard Liane created. It matched my personal aesthetic so well and the classic lit in there just provided the perfect creative fuel! lol 💕💕

thissssss is such a beautiful and bittersweet description 💗💗

Oh thank you!! 🙏🏽 I worked really hard on that little intro - really helped me set the scene.

this was such a clever “meet cute” !! 😩 (I mean not really given they are very aware of each other but like, personal meet cute?) and yeah judging by sir-stares-a-lot off to the side, i’m glad dean was there to assist her <33 public transportation can be exhausting sometimes fr 🤦🏽‍♀️

ehehe yes it's a kind of "meet cute" for sure! Oh God yeah, Dean was really needed there to assist in multiple ways lol. Public transportation can be scary for a woman alone, especially late at night!

I actually ended up having to withdraw from college a while ago (:/) but man if I had him as a professor ??? I would’ve had perfect attendance for sure 🫠💓

Oh no! I'm sorry to hear that. 😥

Very much agree though lol. If Dean were my professor, I'd never miss a class. 😏 And I'd have to record every lecture bc I probably wouldn't be able to catch everything he was saying lolll.

i went from aww to real to aw :/ and finally to how the hell did those girls find out 😭 but I will say my nosey ass is intrigued 👀 lmao

Oh you know how news like that travels. 🥲 That's definitely going to be a subject explored in the series!

boy if you don’t watch out :| i’d pull my taser out idc 😭

LMAO that gif of disappointed grandma killed me! 🤣 But yes, I'd threaten to tase him in the dick idc either 🙃

literally!! the other day this guy got unnecessarily close to me at the bus stop so i gave him a dead stare and asked if i can help him with something in a flat tone as I backed away from him, then he tried playing dumb like mannn I ain’t trying to hear all that, move !!🤚🏽

omgggg guys really do try it, don't they? So creepy. lmfao and you pulled out the "Can I help you??" 🤣

Sometimes you really do gotta --

I personally adore when someone talks about something they’re passionate about. it’s so refreshing because they actually care and you can see it, hear it. like personally I don’t really have a passion for anything anymore lol which i’m fine with now, it just makes it that much better when I encounter someone who does have that passionate spark, like yesss pls tell me all about that subject 🙂‍↕️♥️ i mean correct me if i’m wrong (<3) but you seem to have such a big passion for writing, like it shows how much you love to do this, how much you care and all the effort that goes into the entire process. it all reflects in your writing !! every time you write interesting tidbits and fun facts I find them so interesting. you seem like the chill english teachers i’d get along with, in the best way ofc !!💘 (ex-teacher’s pet here 😔😂) also I hope i’m making sense lovely, brady isn’t the only pothead here lmfao 😭🫶🏽

Yesss I feel the same way! I love it when people are passionate about a subject. I'm sorry you don't feel like you have that passion for something right now, but I hope you do discover something new to enjoy and geek out about. 💗💗

Oh you're very right about that lol. Writing and storytelling is my passion and one of my key creative outlets, so I've studied it and tried to make it my career too. Fanfic though is very self-indulgent for me lol. It's mainly where I come for escapism and to try new things creatively in my writing. I'm so glad you find the "tidbits/fun facts" interesting!! 🥹💕💕 Since I also teach English, this was a really fun story for me to write lol. I think I'd love to have you in my class! I'm on the whole very chill with my college peeps (though I can't be as much with high school 🤣).

lmaooo girl no worries, you're making perfect sense 😘

yesssss keep gathering her up in your warm strong arms dean 🙂‍↕️🙏🏽 lmfao

Right? Even I melted while writing that part~

this was truly such a wonderrrrfull story 💛 the mutal pining is killing me but it’s so good!🫠 idiots in love…except they’re both really smart and it’s not love yet, they’re just pining…but still!🤠

Aww thank you, my lovely!! 🥹💓💓 I'm so glad you enjoyed it! The mutual pining is gonna be tough to start with, but I think these two are going to "give in" sooner than you might think. We'll see when I actually start writing the rest of this. 🤣

10 'Til Midnight

Pairing: Professor!Dean Winchester x Student!Reader

Summary: A chance encounter outside of the classroom shifts the way you see your professor. Forever.

AN: Here’s a one-shot for @chevroletdean's 500 follower celebration! This also fulfills a request for one of my lovely Patreon members, @redhoodieone, who wanted to see AU Professor!Dean with a plus-sized student!reader. The reader is a graduate student (mid-20s) and Dean is in his 30s in this, so not really a wide age gap, but we’re still flirting with a gray area here lol.

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: graduate student!reader, plus-sized!reader, Shakespeare geekery, mythology and other nerdy classic lit. references, AU Brady sighting, sexual tension, mutual pining(?)

The ash cloud of exhaust rose up from the sidewalk steam grates. It infiltrated your nose as you hurried down a few well-worn concrete steps and into the bowels of the subway, a transition into deeper darkness.

To you, that acrid, mini plume of pollution was the smell of New York City; old cigarette buds and weed hash, fresh tequeños and hot dogs wafting from the open door of the bodega on the corner, mixed with a whiff of piss.

This was the city of broke creatives clinging to their fragile dreams with both hands, usually while the natives rolled their eyes. You were one of those shiny happy people with a dream and the battle-tested will to make it happen, especially tonight. You finally got to see a play on Broadway, an excellent production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

You replayed your favorite scenes in your mind like 1940s movie reel, except it was live in technicolor. An unconscious smile spread across your lips, but you had to hurry. Your train was about to leave in…

You checked the time on your phone—ten minutes to midnight—and compared it to the digital sign up ahead. Your eyes widened.

Shit! One minute?!

You had no choice but to try and run in your heels. That had you skidding to the open doors as they began to close, but you just managed to slip inside, albeit literally slipping with a yelp.

A man saved you by grabbing hold of your arm and waist before you fell, bunching the fabric of your coat beneath his hand. You gasped when you stared up at a familiar face. A sharp jawline covered with stubble, just neat enough to be respectable; dark brows shaded over green eyes, trained on you; bowed lips pursed with confusion.

“Professor?” you said, breathless and shocked.

He was just as baffled, but he finished helping you up as your name fell from his lips.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded and thanked him for the save, still catching your breath.

“Here, sit down,” he said, gesturing to a couple of empty seats on the subway. You joined him in sitting, though you ignored the stare of the guy standing closest to you who was holding onto a rail. He wore jeans and dirty hipster Vans, a brown bomber jacket and a gray beanie. The stench of weed and cheap cologne clung to him.

And his gaze followed you until you sat down. Slightly unsettled, you were subtle in the way you angled yourself toward the man beside you.

Professor Dean Winchester.

He really was the last person you expected to see on your way home tonight. You still couldn’t believe you ran right into him!

But then, you noticed the playbill sticking out of his coat pocket (his coat looked more expensive, a dark charcoal gray with a high collar, and it suited him).

“Oh, you…you saw the play too?” you said in excitement, showing him your own playbill that you fished out of your purse. You’d told him about it a month ago, after his lecture on fairy lore. You thought he might enjoy a play that was all about the convergence between the fairy realm and the human realm.

He’d admitted that he’d never seen a Shakespeare play live, but he said he’d look into it. You didn’t think he was actually taking you seriously though.

“Uh, yeah, I did. I’ve never been a big Shakespeare guy, truth be told, but you hooked me,” he said. When he smiled, it made the corner of his eyes crinkle a little.

You couldn’t help but smile too every time you noticed that…even though it made your cheeks warm in a blush. He really had no business being this handsome. And the suit? All crisp and black, paired with a classic, off-white dress shirt and a black pinstripe tie.

Clearly he’d dressed for the occasion of going to the theater, because usually he was one of the chillest professors you knew. He showed up to class in jeans, boots, plain henleys and jackets, though never without his watch, a classic leather time piece with a silver watch face and bold black numbers. It was so vintage, you’d asked about it once when you met with him to talk about one of your essays on Native American burial practices. He’d told you that the watch belonged to his father, who passed away a few years ago now.

“So what’d you think?” you asked. “Weren’t the sets beautiful? It was so ominous and creepy in the ‘forest,’ and ethereal too, like the fairy realm part of it.”

He nodded, smiling slightly wider at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, was a good production. The actors were top-notch.”

“Oh, incredible. That was the best Bottom I’ve ever seen.” You paused, realizing what you said, and a nervous giggle tumbled out of your mouth. “Well, the character. Not the ass—donkey—whatever. You know what I mean.”

The man laughed, rich and deep and washing over you pleasantly, even though you half covered your face in embarrassment.

“Can’t argue with you there. The ass was hilarious,” he smirked.

Another giggle, and you flipped through the playbill again to distract yourself from looking at his ruggedly chiseled face. Why, oh why did he have to be so fucking attractive? And somehow he was still single. You’d heard some of the girls in your class whispering about it after class one day—a full-on engagement that fell apart two years ago.

“But really, the actors who played the couples in the love quadrangle were awesome,” you said. “Helena was my favorite.”

He raised his dark brows. “Really? The girl who gets shit on the most in the play?”

That was another thing. He didn’t really talk like any professor you’d met in your life. You let out a snort of laughter.

“I don’t want to be her, I just think she did so well at showing that vulnerability,” you explained. “There’s nothing worse than being in love with someone who doesn’t even see you, you know?”

He tilted his head, his amusement fading as he listened. You felt emboldened to continue your thought.

“In her mind, she’s probably thinking, ‘Well, even if he’s yelling at me, at least he’s acknowledging I exist,’” you said, “which is incredibly sad and isn’t giving Shakespeare many brownie points for feminism, but it’s a reality that some women go through.”

After a moment, he seemed to see your point with a nod of his head.

“That’s fair,” he said, arching a brow. “Though I gotta hope you don’t let any guy talk to you like that.”

You shook your head with a smile, but before you could answer him, your phone slipped off your lap and tumbled to the dirty subway floor. You twisted away so you could reach down and grab it, but you caught that whiff of cheap cologne again. Gray beanie guy let go of the rail and bent down to scoop up your phone before you could. You offered a polite thank you and went to take it back, but he held it out of reach at the last second, giving you a teasing smile.

“How about I put my number in first, so you can call me when you get home,” he said. “I’m Brady, by the way.”

That oh-so-gracious offer was followed by a glance down your dress. You sat up straighter, adjusting the collar of your coat back over your neckline with a weary huff.

“Ah, you know what, I’m good with just my phone…please.”

This was why you kind of hated the subway. You didn’t know when you were going to have to interact with a creep trying to steal your phone, shoot his shot, or look down your dress as a consolation prize.

You held out your hand expectantly, but still, “Brady” didn’t take the hint.

“Aw, what, you have a boyfriend or something?” he asked.

“Oh my God. Are you fucking serious?” You sighed and decided a white lie was best here. “Yes, I have a boyfriend. Now give me my phone, please.”

“Hmm. Is it like beginning stages, or...?”

“Jesus Christ, dude.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, maybe we can grab a bite to eat, theeen you know. If things are going well, we could take things back to your place,” he said, his brows popping with sleazy suggestion. He still held the phone away from your grasping hand in frustration.

“Hey,” a deep voice cut in. 

You hesitated, glancing back at Professor Winchester. He glared up at Brady with a stony look that you’d never seen on him before.

“Give her the damn phone,” said the professor. His tone boded no argument.

Still, Brady pushed his luck.

“What, you her boyfriend or something?”

The professor didn’t bother to answer the question, but he stood from his seat, his long coat draped down all six feet and change of him, broad shoulders and calm confidence. He stared down at the lankier, scruffier pothead. Then he held out his hand.

Brady shifted back on his heels, seeming to realize that he didn’t want this version of Midnight on the Orient Express—the kind that ended up on the 6 o’clock news the next morning. With a roll of his eyes, Brady dropped the phone into your professor’s hand, complete with a dickish quirk of his lips. Professor Winchester gestured at him to fuck off.

“Walk away,” he said.

To your astonishment, the Brady just tossed him a “fuck you, bro,” and went to the other end of the car. You stood up too, just as the subway pulled to a stop. Professor Winchester handed you the phone.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

“Is this your stop?” he asked, still glancing back with a suspicious eye at the asshole still glaring at your backs.

You nodded, biting your lip.

“Okay, come on,” the professor said. He laid a guiding hand on the small of your back and joined you in stepping out of the subway car. To your relief, Brady stayed on the train.

“Thank you,” you said again. “Really, you didn’t have to miss your exit for me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said, with a shake of his head. His frown was still in place just thinking of that fucking loser. “I’ll have better peace of mind knowing you got home safe.”  

Once you told him that your apartment was another few blocks away, he knew he was going to be walking you home. You told him you weren’t that new to the city, but in his mind, it still wasn’t a safe neighborhood for a young woman to be walking around by herself at this time of night.

He had no other motive than that, however…

He’d been pleasantly surprised to see you tonight. You were a flash of scarlet that tumbled into his arms, the scent of your floral perfume teasing his nose before he caught sight of that little dress clinging to your curvy form, ending just a couple inches above the knee. But you drew your wool coat closer to your body, hiding the tantalizing flash of red from view.

It was for the best, he thought, as he cleared his throat and tried to find something else to focus his eyes on while you two walked together. He couldn’t help but land on your face again, on your pretty painted lips.

A deep, full-bodied red.

It was a familiar shade. You’d worn it before, while chewing the end of a pen absently in concentration during one of his lectures on the difference between skinwalkers and shapeshifters—those long, pointed nails tapping a quiet rhythm against the plastic. It was one of your many quirks, but only now did he realize how much he’d actually noticed about you. If nothing else, he always knew he had your attention.

He also knew you were getting a master’s degree in English, and you were taking his class as an elective. You’d actually sought him out before the semester started to make sure you got a spot in his class.

“Sorry, sir, I know it’s early. I’ve just been trying since last year to get into this class, and I really wanted the chance to take it before I graduate this year.”

He’d shifted in his swivel chair with his jean-clad legs casually crossed. He bounced a tennis ball against the wall, as was his habit. (Mostly because it bothered Benny, who had the office next to his.)

The repetitive bounce really helped him to think sometimes; it was basically his version of a fidget spinner.

“You like mythology that much, huh?” Dean asked.

“Oh, yeah!” you said, as your eyes lit up. “I find it so fascinating how every culture in the world has their own stories that have still survived for thousands of years. Some of them even overlap. Like, maybe it’s technically a different creature, but they have the same name, just in another language. Or it’s the same creature, different backstory. It’s like any novel I’ve ever read—similar tropes, but the style, the packaging. That’s what becomes new and creative.”

Amusement tugged at Dean’s lips.

“Same candy, different wrapper, right?” he offered. His reward was your bright smile.

“Yeah, exactly.”

He’d approved your request without a second thought. Unlike 95% of the students who came and went through his classes, you weren’t just smart. You cared. You had a passion for this stuff…and it mirrored his own.

“So, uh, you liked that play, huh?” he asked. Wanted to rub his hand over his face right after. Smooth, Winchester.

But it succeeded in brightening your eyes again.

“Oh yeah. People tend to think of it as one of Shakespeare’s sillier plays, but it drops some interesting ideas about love, for example.” All while you spoke, you spun vivid gestures with your hands.

Dean’s remained in his coat pockets, but watching you made his smile deepen. He liked when you got like this, so animated and alive with your thoughts. It threatened to draw him out of his somewhat jaded shell.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” he asked. Not because he really wanted to talk about what some sixteenth-century ye olde-y English douche thought about love, but because he wanted to hear you explain it.

You didn’t disappoint.

“Well, there’s the famous Lysander line, ‘The course of true love never did run smooth,’” you said, “but that’s not even my favorite. That’s boring. That’s every rom-com ever, from Harry Met Sally to While You Were Sleeping, all the way to He’s Just Not that Into You, and Crazy, Stupid Love.”

Dean had to interject. “You watch a lot of chick-flicks, don’t you?”

Your lips puckered, but the amusement in your eyes answered his question.

“Like I said, I think Helena is the most underrated tragic figure in the whole story. Yeah, she’s pretty much a doormat, following Demetrius around even though he claims he’s in love with her best friend. Even though he curses at her, threatens to kill her if she keeps annoying him, following him around like an abused puppy. We can agree, he’s like, the biggest asshole in existence, right?” you said.

“Oh, very much agree. You want some coffee?” Dean asked, pointing to a guy selling warm pretzels and drinks from his vendor cart on the side of the road. It had stopped snowing a few days ago, but the February air was still sharp and bitterly cold at this time of night. If only it were midsummer.

“Uh, you know what, I could go for some tea. Thank you,” you said. But you didn’t let that derail you from your thoughts on Shakespearean love. You were still waxing literary analysis while you dug into your purse to find your wallet, but by the time you got it out, Dean had already paid for both drinks and a large soft-baked pretzel.

Your brows furrowed. “Oh! I meant to pay for my part—”

“Don’t worry about it. Here, take half,” Dean said, and he shot you a smile while handing over your hot tea and half of his pretzel. He got your eyes to light up for a different reason as you took the treat. You thanked him with a sweeter smile.

Then you took a bite, and you kept talking.

“But then she says, ‘Love can transpose to form and dignity.’ It can make us act like idiots, right? I mean, back in high school I wrote my boyfriend’s essays for a whole year because I didn’t want him to fail English, and let’s face it, he could barely spell his own last name.”

“Yikes,” Dean chuckled. Sounded like a GED and a gas station job in that guy’s future.

“Right? And what did he do? He dumped me the week before prom because he knew Ruby Summers would put out.” You rolled your eyes, accepting Dean’s sympathies with a gracious nod and a dismissive hand wave. Still, he hoped all you’d given to that guy was your time.

"Well, the guy you're seeing now better be treating you better," he said.

You blinked, your brows furrowing a bit in confusion, until realization dawned on you.

"Oh, I don't have a boyfriend," you said with a small chuckle. "That's just what I tell pushy weirdos on subways."

Dean was tripped up for a second, but he eventually quirked a smile.

“So anyway, my favorite bar of the whole play is what Helena says in Act 1,” you said. “‘Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.’”

In that moment, Dean’s eyes were a little too captivated.

But you broke the spell.

You glanced ahead to continue along the crosswalk with him, taking another warm, soft bite of pretzel.

“And that’s why Cupid’s always painted like a blind baby…or something like that,” you said. You laughed a little, and you seemed to realize just how long you’d been yapping his ear off. You came to a stop at what he assumed was your apartment building, but you suddenly got quiet. Embarrassed.

“Sorry, once I open my mouth on this stuff, I can’t really stop unless someone stops me and tells me I’m literally killing them with words that don’t make sense.”

“You’re making a whole lotta sense to me,” Dean replied. And he realized that he meant it. He rubbed his chin in thought. “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. I like that.”

Your mind seemed to be a hamster wheel on steroids, but he kind of liked that too.

“Well, did you like the play?” you asked, smiling in embarrassment. “Sorry, can’t remember if I even asked you that yet.”

He chuckled. Even if you had, he didn’t mind answering again.

“I like it more now, hearing you talk about it,” he said. But maybe that was too honest. He padded it with something more appropriate, as your instructor. “It makes sense, since you’re an English major, but your passion always comes through in your essays. I’m really glad you decided to take my class this semester.”

You demured further at the praise. “Oh, thank you. It really is my favorite class so far this year, but…that’s because you’re the one teaching it. You're really good at telling stories. You make them simple and easy to understand, even when we're talking about hell hounds and old ghost stories, or the uh, Oedipus complex, or something.”

Dean chuckled, but it was his turn to be touched, even if it surprised him too. You were just so honest and free enough to speak your mind. It was refreshing.

“Well, thank you. Glad to hear at least one person’s getting something out of it,” he said, his smile warming for once.

You smiled too, looking at him through your lashes. “All right well, thanks again for walking me home. I’ll, um…see you on Monday-ayy!”

You stepped up onto the first stair leading up to your apartment and caught an icy patch with your red-bottomed heels. A gasp fell from your lips as your arms spun out to catch yourself on anything that could keep you from falling, and that happened to be Dean—specifically his coat, and then his biceps when he moved in fast to keep you upright.

He ended up gathering you into his arms while you clung to his coat. Your red nails bit into the dark fabric. In his mind’s eye, he could imagine them popping the buttons of his dress shirt, carving shaky lines of heat and pleasure across his skin.

Fuck. He bit the inside of his cheek hard to rid himself of that image, his jaw ticking in response. But another one just replaced it when his gaze met yours, half-lidded and shocked, but…contemplating.

Hot breaths mingled in between, puffing visibly on the cold air.

“God, I’m sorry!” you breathed.

“Don’t worry about it.” He cleared his throat past the slight roughness in his voice. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, um…Take Two,” you said, laughing weakly.

You aimed to let him go and continue on up the stairs by yourself, but Dean couldn’t stop himself from trying to help you. He held your elbow at least, with a hovering hand by your waist in case you slipped again. When you finally made it to the door, you paused and turned to look at him over your shoulder. Again, that look in your eyes said you were debating something in your mind.

“You okay?” he asked again.

You nodded. “Yeah, I just, um…you know what? Never mind. Uh, good night!”

Dean nodded, giving you a casual salute. He didn’t leave until you got in the building safely, but for his entire long walk home, your face wouldn’t leave his mind. That look of internal conflict, like you’d been weighing some kind of pros and cons. He had to wonder…

Had you been about to invite him up to your apartment?

But no. Fucking no. He dismissed that thought as soon as it came. He was almost ten years older than you.

Didn’t stop Catherine Zeta-Jones from hooking up with Michael Douglas. She’s barely pushing fifty while he’s halfway into Senior Depends.

Second problem. Career ending and reputation ruining and his own clock punch at the local 7/11—kind of a problem.

You were a student.

Grad student, came a whisper from the back of his mind.

In Greek mythology, the golden apples of Hesperides in Hera’s garden were guarded by a dragon. The Norse gods also believed in their own version of immortal golden apples, harvested by the goddess Idunn. Sounded a bit like Eden, right? As in, the Judeo-Christian Garden.

As in, forbidden fruit.

What did they all have in common? There was always a consequence for the taking and sampling part. The question was, is the price worth how good it tastes?

Remembering the feeling of your soft curves under his hands, Dean had a feeling it would be more than fucking worth it.

But he shook the thought from his head, his fingertips digging into the soft insides of his coat pockets.

He was your professor. That was where those thoughts should end.

You didn’t even see him that way…did you?

You shucked your heels off as soon as you got inside your apartment. You heaved a deep sigh and shed your purse, your coat, your earrings and necklace, which you set down on the nightstand in your bedroom. You sat on the edge of the bed and fell back onto the creaky mattress.

Your hands came to rest lightly over your stomach, a safe place, while you thought back to how Professor Winchester held you so tight. Secure. Gentlemanly.

How he looked at you, his green-eyed gaze falling to your lips, like he was contemplating the best way to close that distance, bowing his head those last few inches and…

You forcibly shook your head. He was your goddamn teacher.

It didn’t matter that he was probably the youngest faculty member on campus, and you were a twenty-five-year-old graduate student. Whether or not the man was “age appropriate,” he was still your professor. You couldn’t think about him like that.

And he absolutely didn’t look at you like that…

Did he?

AN: Sorry again for all the nerdy lit. tidbits, but I had fun. 😂 I'm thinking about expanding this into an actual little series, so let me know what you think! ❤️

⋆˙⟡ Follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new chapter. ❤️

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Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1):

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @kaleldobrev

@globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

@waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @0ccvltism

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @cheynovak @jollyhunter

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005 @impala-dreamer @spnaquakindgdom

[the-interplay-of-sex-and-violins]

Because it's MY self-indulgent sideblog and I get to choose the content, some moodboards I made once. First, Kelyn ofc: former assassin turned bard, trying not to give in and murder the world because daddy said to.

Next, Yurissa, his teenage adopted daughter, who decided to be a warlock for reasons (reasons are "her dad mysteriously died and she wanted to find out the truth about that" and also "Raphael's a fucking dick")

And finally, Alythara, Kelyn's older sister who left the Underdark to find him, converted to Eilistraee, and finally DID find him...after being abducted aboard the nautiloid, and oh hey, when she found her baby brother again he didn't remember shit about fuck.

[posicplayhouse]

A collection of things to make the heart flutter.

[intheorangebedroom]

Pleased to meet you (a fairy tale)

Series, complete.

Summary: You meet Frankie Morales. Twice.

A 20-year-old French student, you're spending the summer of 1999 in New York with your best friend. When she drags you to a party in Brooklyn, you meet an aspiring pilot and the two of you spark an instant and intense connection. Separated by unfortunate events, you waste the next 15 years of your life longing for what you've lost, only to meet him again when your new boyfriend Benny introduces you to his best friend.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Gabrielle Tourneur (OFC)/French fem!Reader with a dash of Ben Miller x Gabrielle Tourneur (OFC)/French fem!Reader

Written in reader format but Reader is an OFC. There are sparse but still present physical descriptions, she is French and has a thorough background, and a name.

Rating: Explicit 🔞

Note: In 2023, I will stop apologising. Maybe. And anyway, I make no excuse. I'm in love with this pilot and obsessed by this movie so I'm making it everyone’s problem. This story is nothing if not a self-indulgent exploration of the soulmates ideal. Expect a lot of angst, and smut.

Every chapter is explicit and you should be 18+ to read this. The American university system remains a mystery to me, I googled "how to become a US Army pilot", and visas are not a thing in this AU. English is not my first language, but one I adore.

Welcome to the orange bedroom, hope you'll enjoy 🧡

Chapters

Chapter 1 - Lovesong

Chapter 2 - I Feel You

Drabble (chapter 3) - What lingers (you)

Drabble (chapter 4) - What lingers (Frankie)

Chapter 5 - Boy meets girl

Drabble - Proud Mary (Ben Miller x you)

Chapter 6 - That Brooklyn bathroom

Chapter 7 - Frankie

Chapter 8 - Shuffle Your Feet

Chapter 9 - The Way Young Lovers Do

Chapter 10 - The Deal

Chapter 11 - Sunday Morning

Chapter 12 - The Drive Home

Chapter 13 - Perfect Day

Chapter 14 - Love is blindness

Chapter 15 - Flaming June

Chapter 16 - Plainsong

Chapter 17 - Auf Achse

Drabble - What lingers (you&him)

Epilogue - Songbird

Drabbles

Road Trippin’ - inspired by one of Wildemaven’s beautiful weekly moodboard writing prompts 🔞

The ties that bind us

To Bring You My Love

More Than a Feeling

I <U SO - coming one day for sure

Headcannons

Frankie's high school locker

The TF boys' favourite things in life and how they like it done.

Benny and Gabrielle (better read between chapter 14 and 15 to avoid spoilers)

A PTMY Halloween 🎃

Playlist

[writingmyheartsout]

Happy holidays you beautiful people!

Sadly i wanted to give you a short fic about our beloved gentle giant but, it's not that short anymore...(seems like I got quite inspired by that)

But..i have something...a moodboard more specifically

Name: Fire and Fury

Pairing: König x afab plus size reader (originally her codename was Tank due to her size but I saw someone giving that codename to their reader so I'm changing it)

also my hc on how König looks like under the hood is THIS

Plot: you and your bestfriend are relaxing, having a beer in the quiet corner of an almost empty pub when someone else bothers you as soon as he walks away. ( I know the man has social anxiety and I have that too but, usually when out with people I completely trust, it seems i can relax a bit and enjoy a night out) Also slightly possessive and protective König ( i got obsessed with his voicelines esp. hands off, it's mine)

Sneak peek:

"Sleeping?"

"...."

"O c'mon big guy, i know you're not"

"What?"

"Oh there you are, why did you leave so soon? I thought you liked me :P"

"Sorry…i do..i do like you..but..i was tired"

"No you’re not, you wanted to say something didn’t you?”

“No..?”

“U sure about that? Want to rephrase that maybe? I swear i’ll come into your room and stab you"

That made König laugh, easing his mind before typing again

"I..well, i…nevermind, we better sleep..maus"

“Oh no.. you don't get away that easily, speak..now”

“Not safe, not right now…I could say things that I might regret later”

“What if you try? I’m not running away, that’s for sure”

“But you can still stab me, you said that yourself”

“That i could do..yeah, so speak”

“I don’t think…”

“Seriously Arthur, spit it out”

At that he just took a deep breath, hoping to not mess things up. Ironically he could take down an entire unit by himself without even flinching but when it comes to his mind and his feelings he’s a kid all over again, afraid to take a step further and lose everything.

_____________________________________________________

This is all by text, once both of them come back to base.

Overall this is plain cute and soft with just a hint of angst bc the man needs more soft things and I'll gladly give it to him.

Last but not least, as a plus size woman, this is ofc self indulgent

[mysterystarz]

OK SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO POST THIS I JUST WANTED TO ASK U SMTH RQ <3

i love your layout for your self ships sm!!! what I mean, is like having a small moodboard, songs, questions like the “how you met”, etc. and I was wondering if I could use that layout for my own self ships? i won’t copy the answers, pictures, or colors, but I loved your setup / layout and wanted to ask if it was ok if I did that? i can always tag you for inspo on it if you would feel more comfortable <3

TYSM!!!! :)))

YEAH YEAH OFC PLEASE go for it i adore selfships and honestly think that type of self indulgence is top tier

GO DO IT!!

it’s so sweet you asked but really i say you can absolutely do it ~

[buckstaposition]

I cling to your lips like gloss (3)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie  👋

tags&warnings: spoilers for season 3, wonky timelines & odd pacing, drinking, swearing, mentions of sex work, mentions of canon-typical violence, Miss Salome is back!, some mild domesticity, partial nudity, a lil’ bit of sexual & romantic tension, soft&protective!Javi today tomorrow and forever

words: 8906 🙃🤡🙃🤡

summary: “The United States government is buying you a dress because you being at that party is of strategic importance to this investigation.”

Author’s note: Thank you SO SO much everyone who read, reblogged, and commented! It means so much to me and I want you to know that I read those comments and reviews at least every other day 

Also this chapter was originally going to feature more as I was planning to move into the actual plot of the season, but then it just got longer and longer and I wanted to keep it under 10k words so that has all been moved to the beginning of ch4 instead. Anyway, remember it’s okay to take breaks in between, stay hydrated, and enjoy!

—

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries @fromthedeskoftheraven @shikin83​ @cinewhore​ @maddoggrahaml​

(message me if you want to be added to the list)

beautiful moodboard made by @huliabitch​ 

Masterlist

Prologue • Chapter 1 - The Informant • Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals

Chapter 3 - Swallow Pride and Anger

He made a habit of checking in with Miss Rivas regularly, usually on Wednesday evenings. It was late enough in the week for her to have gathered something to tell him, and for him to need interactions beyond dealing with pissy bureaucrats and the chorus of 'yes boss'es from his agents. That and he made the conscious choice to never bother her on Thursdays, seeing as how often she'd come back from a work day in the double digits, only to rise again with the sun on Friday mornings for her frequent trips back to Medellín. 

On this Wednesday, his self-imposed cigarette embargo inside his office combined with a slow and frustrating day had led him to go back to his apartment at an uncharacteristically early hour. He threw his jacket, wallet and keys down on the table, then loosened his tie and grabbed a beer from his fridge. He took a slow pull from the bottle, allowing himself to slump a bit against the kitchen counter. This apartment, while never what he would call a home, was still a sanctuary of sorts, even if most days he only came here to sleep and change clothes. He finished about half the bottle before clicking the bent cap back on haphazardly and placing it back in the fridge. He checked his watch and decided that a shower would, if not make him feel better, at least wash off the stale dryness of the embassy complex's aircon. 

His hair still damp, he exited the bathroom about half an hour later. He padded across the floor barefoot, shuffling around the few rooms a bit, pulling on a clean t-shirt and preparing a small meal in the kitchen. He didn't have much except for the usual staples, chosen by how easy they were to prepare and by how effectively they would fill his stomach, rather than for any considerations of taste. The only thing he allowed himself to indulge in was the selection of fresh fruit he picked up at the street market down the road. By the time he'd gotten something in his stomach it was nearing seven. Javier reckoned she would be home by now and would have had enough time to settle in. He grabbed his fruit plate and trudged over to his wall-mounted landline phone. After placing the plate on the low side table, he dialled the satphone's number and waited for the line to connect. 

"Agent Peña, good evening!" The sound quality was much better than with those tinny phone cells. It allowed him to hear how pleased she sounded as she greeted him, and how slightly out of breath. 

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, Miss Rivas. I can call back later?" It occurred to him that she might be in the process of making dinner herself. 

"Oh no, it's alright!" He heard the shuffling of steps and the hum of music in the background. "Hang on, let me finish on the landline, then I'm all yours." She must have set the satphone down right next to her stereo system. He could hear music more clearly now, still distant like not all of it survived the transmission, but distinct enough to make out a string section paired with electric guitar and words in an unfamiliar language. 

"Interesting music selection." He mused as she came back on the line.

"Huh? Oh yes, Angelika let me borrow some of her tapes. Newly historical contraband from behind the Iron Curtain." She laughed quietly, and Javier thought of how for some of his former CIA colleagues, that might have been reason enough to drag her in for an interrogation. He sneered at the notion, glad it was no longer relevant. "Not that I understand anything, but that's why music is called the universal language, I suppose."

"Your German friend." Javier hummed thoughtfully. He'd had to look up what that Stasi remark meant, embarassingly enough. Despite the added information included, he'd been made to change it to 'Calí KBG' in his preliminary report on the matter. 

"Yes. I'm sorry I couldn't convince her to help more. It's half the way she was brought up and half fear. I guess the thought of going up against a powerful drug cartel and helping the American government at the same time is just a bit too much. And with her and Julio now trying for a baby she just really doesn't want to risk it, you know?" 

"It's okay." Javier said reflexively, allowing himself to sit on the floor by his phone, his back against the wall. Angelika Florez-something-long-and-German-with-lots-of-umlauts that he wasn't even going to attempt to pronounce worked at the Calí phone company and would have been an invaluable asset, but then again she'd already placed herself in danger by allowing Diana to relay what she knew. Javier wasn't going to force anyone to become an informant. "Anything new on your end?" 

"New corner office." 

"Nice." 

"Oh, very."  He heard more soft rustling over the line, as if she was moving around, and then some light clicking noises that might have been a large window or door being opened. "Miguel Rodríguez did stop by yesterday. Unannounced, of course. Cut into my lunch break." 

Javier straightened, the hand with a piece of orange sinking back down from his lips. "Oh? What did he want?" Unfortunately it was nothing he could be nailed down for. The Rodríguez brothers did own that bank and had every right to be there, every once in a while. 

"Wanted to talk about the tax evasion scheme I devised. I swear, there's nothing rich people hate more than paying their taxes!" Her huff made him laugh softly, despite everything. "Nothing of substance to report, sadly."

"We'll get them." Javier promised. "With your help, they'll go down like a bag of rocks in water."

She hummed, tapping her nails against the phone casing absently. He could hear the light click of it over the line. Javier let himself enjoy the reprieve this unassuming silence offered.

"I've been wondering," she started again after a moment, pensive, "how you met Gabriela. Was it when she was still at the brothel or after?" 

Actually screw reprieve. Javier felt like all his blood was now rushing to his ears and neck. "Umm..." he said, eloquently. "W-why d'you want to know?" And hadn't the other woman told her that detail, since they apparently shared everything? He had made it until now in forcibly not dwelling on what exactly this 'everything' would entail. 

"Sorry no, that came out wrong. I was just wondering if she'd ever been in any way involved in your... work. I'm sorry, this isn't... I just- I worry."  

Javier exhaled slowly, thinking back on the night he'd chanced upon the stunning redhead at a bar. He hadn't planned on it becoming a regular thing, and then before he knew it, the sporadic nights he spent with her were the only thing removed from the stress of his job. "No, never." 

"Dammit." 

That was... not what he'd expected. He frowned a moment before it dawned on him. 

"You're worried that by involving her when Maritza asked you for help you put her in danger."

"...Yes." She sounded glum now, not pleased and at ease enough to attempt to joke with him like before. He hated it. 

"Hey, it's alright. Nothing happened to her." At least to her. At least one person had come out of that nightmare mostly unscathed. It was something to be grateful for. "They're gone now. Escobar and his men are gone. She's safe." 

"Thank you, Agent Peña. I just-" Her voice sounded so small, suddenly. He frowned, plate of fruit long forgotten. "I couldn't bear it if I lost her, too. And while I didn't live in Medellín for all of it I ...you hear things." 

Unbidden, his mind flashed to the brothel on 23rd street in Envigado, all the women executed, La Quica putting bullets through their brains because one of them had been brave enough to call the Search Bloc and DEA on him. He thought of Helena. He thought of the dozens more who had the violence in their lives compounded tenfold because they'd dared to defy the narcos' terror. And often enough, through him. Sometimes the guilt ate Javier alive. 

"Hang on a moment." He said, already heaving himself up and striding over to the kitchen, grabbing his unfinished beer from the fridge, then doubling back over to the bar and grabbing a glass and a bottle of whiskey. Mixing the two was probably not a good idea. As much as drinking in general. He didn't care right now. Javier tried to be a better man than he had been, but there were times when he slipped. 

He poured himself a glass of the liquor as he sat back down and snatched the phone receiver back up from where it swung against the wall. 

"I'm back." He announced simply and took a swig. 

"I shouldn't have brought it up." She sighed long and drawn. "I'm sorry for... I suppose I just wanted to make myself feel better. That if something had happened to Gabi it wouldn't have been my fault, too. I didn't think- I cannot begin to imagine, Agent Peña-" 

"It's alright." Javier said, reflexively. The beer bottle was just one generous sip away from being empty now. His fingers played with the rim of it absently as he stretched his legs out in front of him, the tumbler of whiskey at his side. 

"It's not alright." Miss Rivas insisted, sounding even more distraught. He hated that, too. 

"Maybe. Maybe not. It is what it is." He scrubbed a palm over his face, rubbing at his burning eyes. The alcohol was beginning to swirl through his bloodstream. It helped, he supposed, that there was a sort of artificial distance through the telephone line. Otherwise the next words would likely never have left his lips. 

"Can I tell you something?" Javier Peña wasn't a religious man, but there were times when he saw the sense of a confessional. 

"Of course." Her voice was just the slightest bit shaky. "Should I get myself a drink, too?"

"If you want." He threw back the last bit of beer, following it up immediately with a gulp of whiskey, then pressed the still cold bottle against his flushed neck. He hesitated a moment, listening intently to the shuffling and rustling on the other end of the line. He felt his shoulders tighten and draw up, let his head fall back against the wall with a soft 'thud', his fingertips tracing the rim of the glass until he heard her soft affirmative. 

This was not a time to let shame hinder him. Hell, the fact that he paid women for sex was the first thing she ever knew about him. 

"You should know that I have a kind of... reputation." Javier began slowly. Like she didn't know that already. Like she couldn't guess. Like maybe this illusion where he could make this a confession instead of a confirmation was somehow more dignified. 

He'd gotten the idea a few months into coming down here. Or rather the idea had found him in the shape of a lovely, doe-eyed brunette who'd introduced herself as 'Aurélia'. And Javier had been hungry and lonely, his shame at his ruined wedding fresh and the frustration of running after leads into empty corners even fresher. And he doesn't even remember how he ended up inside her room, and while under no illusion that what was about to transpire was merely a business deal, a service rendered and compensated for, he'd found himself talking. Javier wasn't a talker, but she'd been so sweet in the way she carded her slender fingers through his hair and let him ramble on, probably wasting her time. 

"That's who you're here for?" Javier remembered still, with such distinct clarity, how her fingers had stuttered against his scalp. Javier had lifted his far-too-heavy head from her comfortable bosom and peered up at her, wondering whether disclosing all this had been a mistake. What kind of idiot walks into a brothel in Medellín half drunk and says he's a cop looking to take down Pablo fucking Escobar plus associates? 

"They come here sometimes. Those sicarios I mean." Aurélia had said, resuming her caresses. Sweet girl. Sweet, sad girl who kissed so softly. 

"Oh yeah?" Just his luck. "Not tonight though, hopefully." Suddenly he wasn't quite as drunk or tired anymore. 

"Not tonight, no. At least not that I know of. Anyway, it's not- I shouldn't tell you this." She'd tilted his head up and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. That girl could kiss like she was in love with you. 

That was that. Four days later he'd come back, with a proposal wrung from his superiors. Any information that could lead to the capture of one of the Cartel's sicarios for a generous chunk of solid American cash. 

"Aurélia?" Miss Rivas asked in a voice as if she was running calculations. "With curls or with a birthmark?"

"Umm, birthmark." A mole on her left cheek, just under the eye, like a rococo lady in every period piece about the French, except real. 

"Oh! Catalina Vasquez!" 

"You know her?" Of course she knew her. Apparently Medellín was actually a damn village and not a city of millions. 

"Yeah, the family lived just down the street growing up. I used to babysit them sometimes, her and her younger sisters." 

Javier hummed, unsure of how to reply. He pinned the receiver between his head and shoulder and shoved the freed hand up under the collar of his shirt to rub at the tension in the back of his neck. 

"Sorry for interrupting, do go on." 

It had taken some convincing. A whole lot of planning, too. But by the end of it he had one of Gacha's sicarios in custody. A large, brutish man who'd nicknamed himself 'Cobra'. Low-level and not especially bright, as it turned out, but not completely worthless. Javier had gone back to the brothel that night to give Aurélia her reward, and then he'd come back again the night after, when the high of success had worn off and he'd craved being kissed again like it meant something. Only, she'd been gone. Left without a trace, her erstwhile colleagues unwilling to divulge the whats and wheres and whys. Frustrated and anxious and in no small part betrayed, he'd drowned himself in a willing bottle blonde who could do extremely interesting things with her mouth. And that was that, the start of a career and a reputation. Not that he ever expected to be 'serviced' when he was there in a professional capacity. But when they offered, he found himself too weak to refuse. And they almost always offered. For whatever reason. 

Professional pride perhaps.  

"What happened to her?" It had been years but he had to ask, just on the off chance. 

"She took your money and cut loose, moved to the coast and got a job at a baker's. Last thing I heard she was married and had another baby on the way." 

"Good. That's ...good." He'd wondered, all these years... "Thank you."

"I didn't do anything." 

"For listening. For letting me ...unload." For lifting a bit of guilt and uncertainty off of me. "Just... you don't have  to do that. So thank you."

A short rustling, the squeak and groan of a chair, then: "I will listen to whatever you want to tell me, Agent Peña." 

Javier released a sigh, deep and weary, and set aside his glass and the bottle that was significantly lighter than it had been. His mind was somewhere in that soupy stage now, floating aimlessly on some sort of thick fog. It dulled the creeping pain in his back that told him he was too old to be sitting on the floor now. He mumbled something indistinct, rubbed his eyes and shook his head in an attempt to clear the haze. 

"Well, in any case, now you know." He'd only need to tell her about Lorraine, Helena, and Carillo, and he'd have shared all of his major sins. Huh.

"What are you asking for?" 

Absolution. "A verdict?" 

"I have no intention of judging you, Agent Peña. Not for this. You acquainted yourself with all the working girls in Bogotá and Medellín, and I married a man I did not love and stayed with him for years." 

"That's hardly the same." 

"Isn't it?" Her voice was soft and rueful, brimming with words not ready to be spoken quite yet. He sensed it, and agreed, and therefore decided that it was time to cut this heart-to-heart off here for both their sakes. 

"Hell, I don't know. Maybe, in a way." He was way too drunk for this. He shouldn't have drunk this much. Where had his threshold gone? It's like he'd spent years tempering his liver for nothing. 

"Well then, I'll let you know whether or not it'll be worth for you to come down to Medellín next weekend. Sleep well. And drink some water before then." 

Javier glanced at the clock mounted on the oppsite wall. When the hell had it gotten this late? No wonder his ass was numb and his back was killing him. There was a moment when the strangest words were just hanging on to the tip of his tongue, ready to plummet off. That it would always be worth it to see her. Even just to take a turn about a park with her and the kid. Javier swallowed thickly. Gathered his professionalism and detachment. 

"Until then, Miss Rivas. Good night." --- --- --- The phone rings insistently in a way that tells him it's been at it a while. Javier sighed while sliding the glass door of his office shut behind him. He hadn't planned on being all but ambushed by one of Stechner's CIA stooges under the guise of 'inter-agency liasing', and that was after getting caught up with a lenghty presentation one of his newly transferred agents had prepared for him. Feistl, he'd said his name was. The presentation was full of good ideas, too, just too involved. Javier had told the guy as much. If you can get your point across with ten words there's no point using fifty. 

Javier picked up the receiver, one hand rubbing at the dull throbbing that was just starting to build in his temple. 

"Peña."

"You're still at your office? It's past eight, you should go home." He smiles despite himself, and the chiding tone. 

"Got delayed." He offered by way of an explanation. She harrumphed softly. 

"Not that I'm not delighted to hear from you, but what's the occasion?" She rarely called him, he usually called her. She certainly didn't call on Thursday nights because when she wasn't preparing to drive up to Medellín she was usually exhausted enough at this point in the week to turn in early. 

"I hope you're sitting down." 

Javier perched himself on the edge of his desk where it wasn't piled high with reports and mind-numbing paperwork awaiting his signature. "I am." 

"They're having a party and I've been invited. Friday next week. They'll all be there; Santacruz is apparently coming down from New York for it. The chief accountant, the money launderer, everyone. And their wives, or other-" 

Javier's foot slipped a bit where he'd foolishly leaned a significant percentage of his weight on it. He caught himself as the desk gave a loud groan, slipping a bit on the linoleum floor. He righted himself quickly, sitting more firmly on the edge of the desk. 

"What do you know?" 

"Apparently there's going to be some sort of important announcement, but no one knows what it is, not even Miguel. Gilberto called it. All I know is that all four of them will be there, as well as everyone important in the organization. And then some. Likely every politician and law enforcement official in their pocket. Other cartels, too, but I don't know who exactly-"

"Miss Rivas, stop." Javier said firmly. Her voice had gotten that rambling, frantic quality that wore thin its natural pleasant rasp. "That's plenty. This is..." he twisted around and fished for his desk calendar, grabbing the nearest pen to circle the day, "This is huge. It could even be just the break we need."

She was silent for a moment, only her long, deliberate breaths crackling over the line. "You think so?"

"I think regardless of what it is, if it's important enough for a gathering this big, then yes."

"I don't suppose you could raid the party and arrest them all just like that?" She mused. 

"Only in my dreams, Miss Rivas." He allowed himself a second to picture it: surroundig what was no doubt a very large and fancy property, riding in like the cavalry, the dumbstruck faces as the Gentlemen of Calí and their associates realized their luck had run out, clapping the handcuffs on them - he'd want to do it himself, hear the gratifying click of metal on metal that would wipe the self-satisfied smirks off their faces. 

The warrants for the Calí godfathers existed, that wasn't the problem. The problems started with finding the location, circumventing their no doubt expert security, getting the lot of them without anyone escaping... Then there was the trouble of getting a search warrant for the property, even if they did know the address, and it was going to be a whole lot more complicated if the guy who signed those warrants was at that party himself. Then there was the fact that for all the valuable intel Miss Rivas had provided already, it wasn't nearly enough to nail the godfathers beyond what their army of slippery attorneys could weasel them right back out of. What they really needed was for someone to talk. Someone who had been there for longer and knew the operations of the cartel more intimately than Miss Rivas ever could (or than he would want her to, if Javier was being honest). The mysterious money launderer perhaps, or the chief accountant. Either would be good, both would be better - then again, the immunity deals that usually came with these kinds of cooperations didn't sit too well with Javier. 

"Hell, I don't even have a plus one. Do I really have to go? I could pretend to be sick." She sighed and scoffed, and muttered something about not having anything to wear. 

"I think you know." And if these people didn't know his face (and would put a bullet through it on sight) he'd gladly offer to be her plus one, if only to keep her safe. He hated knowing she'd be all alone there, among the wolves. It didn't make what he still had to ask of her any easier.  

"Yes, I know. Miguel called me the 'third corner of their finance trifecta'." A bitter laugh, not that Javier needed that cue to know. He could tell from her voice alone how much she despised it. "In any case, now you know, so you can make whatever arrangements you need. I'll see you tomorrow?" Ah yes, about that. 

"I'm afraid I can't make lunch. Urgent meeting called by the ambassador." Urgent and useless, but when the new president and minister of justice wanted a briefing he had to oblige. "Sorry."

"That's alright. Dinner then? My aunt will be in the hospital overnight." 

"I'll see what I can do." There was just one more thing. "Miss Rivas?"

"Yes?"

"Would you be willing to wear a wire? To the party?" 

"Well, I was thinking a cocktail dress would be more appropriate-" 

Javier scoffed. "You know what I mean." He could picture her grin on the other end of the line, pleased at her little joke. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I suppose I might as well, seeing as I'm not getting out of this-" 

"Thank you."

"Best bring the necessary ...equipment with you. I need to go dress shopping this weekend." 

He promised that he would. He promised to call as soon as he knew when he'd be in Medellín. And he promised to go home for the day as soon as they said their good-byes.

He intended to do just that; he only needed to file away some things first. 

"Boss?" Another one of the new transfers poked his head in after knocking. Why was he still here at this hour? Javier struggled to recall his name. 

"Yeah, what is it, uh..." He did feel bad about it, too. A little bit at least. 

"Van Ness, sir." 

"What is it, Van Ness?" 

"Duffy just faxed this over." Van Ness leaned further into Javier's office, holding himself steady on the doorframe, and handed him the flimsy sheet of paper. "They've gotten a lead through Cornerstone." 

--- --- ---

Dinner instead turned into an apologetic phonecall during a meeting break and then a red eye flight out to Medellín. Then there's another meeting at the Search Bloc home base with Colombian National Police representatives and the only high point of it is that he briefly sees Hugo Jr who looks well. So by the time Javier finally starts out to Envigado it's lunchtime again. He makes it there just slightly after. 

He walked up to the small house, past the flowerbeds on the windowsills, and knocked on the door. That side of the house was south-facing and it was a hot, cloudless day that has him sweating in his suit in no time. He's just about to knock again, thinking perhaps the first time he'd been too soft to be heard so as not to disturb the aunt who must be resting after her overnight stay at the hospital, but then he hears the quick tap of feet and the door is yanked open by an out-of-breath Diana. "Hey." 

She was wearing a wide smile and cut-off denim shorts with a simple blue cotton blouse and her hair was loose and much longer than when they'd first met. It seemed like no time at all had passed since then when in reality it had been close to a year now. 

"Hi," Javier breathed, "Sorry for the delay." 

She waved it off. "Come on in, I saved you a plate." She turned and walked back the short and narrow hallway. Stop gawking at her legs.

"That's not necessary." He tried to deflect, toeing off his shoes near the door and loosening his tie and shirt collar, just the top button. 

"Nonsense, unless you've eaten?" She looked over her shoulder before turning into the small kitchen. 

"I haven't, no." Javier conceded, following behind. It wasn't exactly spacious, a round table squished to one wall with just enough space for three chairs. Little Salome sat at one, drawing with an array of colorful crayons. She acknowledged him silently before going back to her drawing and Javier sat down. 

"Coffee?" Diana asked over the hum of the microwave, already pulling two mugs from a cupboard. 

"Please." Javier stretched his legs out as far as he could without becoming a tripping hazard. "How's your aunt?" 

"Resting now. She's been better recently, but overall she's been declining so I don't know-" She gave a helpless shrug, then brought over the mugs, shortly followed by the steaming plate which she set in front of him. He'd learned a while ago that even the most minute resistance was futile anyway. Besides, he actually was really rather hungry. Catering wasn't a priority for the CNP. 

He waited until she sat down in the chair opposite to start eating. They talked quietly, not exactly smalltalk, but nothing too heavy either. It was strange sort of almost-domesticity if one looked over the fact that he was being snuck in like a teenage delinquent boyfriend whenever the aunt was out or asleep (which was fine by him as he had no desire to meet the woman whose only daughter he'd gotten killed). 

"So how does that whole wire situation work in real life?" Diana asked after she'd cleared away the dishes (and physically slapping his hand away when he moved to help). 

"Well it's... there's a literal wire, a microphone on one end, and a recording device on the other. And a battery." Javier began haltingly. 

"And it needs to be concealed under the clothes, obviously." 

"Obviously." 

"Hmm, I see. How big?" She sat back down again, brushing a hand through Salome's hair affectionately. "And how do I secure it under the dress? I need to know these things so I can pick out one that'll cover it all, you see." 

Javier nodded. "Did you want to leave soon? Because I was thinking it's probably easiest if I just came along." 

At this, she seemed surprised, but recovered quickly. "You sure?"

He sipped the last of his now tepid coffee and nodded again. "Yeah, let's go buy you a dress."

"There's no need to buy me a dress, Agent Peña." He recognized that tone by now, how testy she got at any allusion of charity. It was an ingrained reflex that he knew better than to be irked by. 

"The United States government is buying you a dress because you being at that party is of strategic importance to this investigation." He stood to put the empty mug in the sink before she could beat him to it, then returned to the table, standing behind the seat he'd previously occupied and gripping the back of it. "Besides, more of American taxpayer money is spent on worse things." Like Stechner's salary, he thought. She gave him a look that said they'd have more words on this, probably when they reached the checkout, then stood, saying she'd go say goodbye to her aunt. 

Javier nodded, watching her leave. A little noise caught his attention. Salome still didn't speak much, but she knew how to make herself known nonetheless. "What is it, Miss Salome?" Javier stooped to get closer to eye level with the kid. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes and held up a scrap of the paper she'd been drawing on. 

"Oh, what's this?" She shook the paper insistently in her tiny fist, an adorable frown creasing between her brows, as if miffed that he was being slow. And it's... he's gotten more relaxed around the little girl by now, but it still always lingers that he's part of the reason she's an orphan, and traumatised into a selective mutism that apparently even the average counselor or child psychiatrist doesn't quite know how to deal with to boot, that leaves him with a lingering apprehension that manifests in the kind of awkward hesitation that now has her scrambling off the chair and patting his leg as she holds the paper up for him to take. 

"Want me to take a look?" He bends and takes it gently. Is answered by a sort of long-suffering sigh. The scrap is barely the size of his palm, covered in colorful blobs of red and orange and yellow and blue, pink and green and purple swirls in between. 

"Very pretty." He decrees and attempts to hand it back just as Miss Rivas is poking her head back the room. 

"Can you please grab the car seat?" 

"Huh?" It's not very eloquent, but then again he's engaged in a game of impromptu reverse tug-of-war with a toddler. "She's coming with?" She's also pushing the paper back at him again, pouting. 

"Yes of course she is. The car seat? It's on the shelf behind you." There is no argument to be had with the women in this family, so he doesn't even attempt it, just straightens and looks for the car seat which is indeed in the described spot. "And that drawing is for you so just take it." 

"For me?" It's still clutched in his hand, and Salome is heaving a huff as if to say 'Duh. Idiot.' His throat feels tight all of a sudden. "Well, thank you very much." He makes a show of tucking it very carefully into the pocket of his suit jacket, then turns to retrieve the car seat. Together they make their way out. It takes a moment to set up the car seat in the back, another to wrestle the stroller into the trunk, but eventually they're on their way downtown.

--- --- ---

They have entered a world of ruffles. And sequins. For a moment Javier thinks he's having flashbacks to Lorraine's endless sessions discussing bridesmaid's dresses all those years ago. He exchanges a look with Miss Rivas, her expression stony and tense. 

"Alright, quick in and out. If at all possible, I want to be out of here again before Salome wakes up." Javier nodded, tightening his grip on the stroller handles. Salome had dozed off in the car on the drive over and was now out cold, not even stirring throughout the transferral from car seat to stroller. Javier eyed the sea of satins and gulped, then turned to the woman at his side. "What's your plan?" 

"I'm going to find a shop assistant." She narrowed her eyes, gaze flitting over the masses of racks. 

"Good plan." Javier mumbled. He had an inkling that they'd be here forever if they attempted to brave this ocean of dresses alone. 

"Right, you can..." she trailed off as her eyes fixed on a woman some feet away, her head just bobbing up from between two racks where she was rearranging some very bright red and very small garments, "...um, wait by the changing rooms?"

"It's fine." Javier replied, starting to push the stroller in that direction. If nothing else he figured he could function as a temporary clothing rack or something. On instinct, he scans the perimeter while Miss Rivas elucidates to the shop assistant what she is looking for and the younger woman, perhaps in her mid- to late twenties, snaps her fingers in triumph before announcing that she has 'just what you're looking for' and starts marching away. They follow her like ducklings from rack to rack, and a good ten minutes later they have an armful of cocktail dresses of varying lengths, cuts, and colors. It's the kind of brutal efficiency that even Search Bloc could only dream of, all in the petite shape of this eager retail employee with a side pony.

"Let me know if you need help." She chirps as she deftly deposits them in the changing room area before returning to her other tasks. 

It's an almost enclosed space, five curtained cabins in an open half-circle arrangement with a long-ish bench in the middle and some tall mirrors on the spaces between. He wheels the stroller beside the bench and sits a moment later, so that the both of them are facing the changing room where the shop assistant had hung up the dress selection. Shrugs off his suit jacket, then drapes it carefully over the sleeping child to block out the light and muffle the noise of shoppers. Miss Rivas looked at him expectantly, one hand on the curtain that was half drawn. 

"What?" 

"You're gonna have to show me how to put on the wire thingy." She jerked her head towards the changing room. Javier gulped, the implication dawning on him. Looked at the stroller helplessly. There was nothing but an effectively timed baby snore and a twitch of one little ladybug-socked foot. 

"Come on, the sooner we get this over with the sooner we can leave." As previously stated, there is no arguing with the women of this family, especially when they're right, so he resigns himself, dives for the case that holds the machinery, and stands. Miss Rivas stepped aside, drawing up the curtain after a furtive glance around. "We're both adults." 

"Yeah." Javier agreed, his throat tight. At least these cabins were decently sized or they'd be squished in there like sardines in a can. 

Javier turned away to give her some privacy, fiddling with the wire instead, pretending it had gotten more tangled than it was. At her soft confirmation that she's ready he turns around, making a conscious effort not to look... anywhere really. At least she'd only chucked her top; the shorts are still on. 

"Agent Peña, I would assume that you have seen women in their underwear before." She sounded amused, and clearly more relaxed about this than he could ever pretend to be. He gives a terse nod, making his eyeline give a wide berth until his gaze lands squarely on her face where a bemused smirk just barely masks something more uncertain. 

"Sorry, there is a real dearth of female agents or this would be much less awkward." Javier stepped closer, holding the wire in his hands like the world's flimsiest shield. She's right of course, the sight of a woman's brassiere hasn't been new to him since he was a teenager sneakily perusing clothing catalogues in his bedroom after dark. Hers isn't even... it's... functional, off-white, unwired and unembellished, and reveals just the edge of a tan line, something he quickly drags his gaze away from. The problem is of course, that the path his eyes take is further down her body, suddenly snagging on a raised line down at the very edge of her ribcage on the left side. 

"What's this?" His thumb drags across the raised skin instinctually. It's a thin, straight line of scar tissue, around half the length of his index finger and sitting right on the lowest rib. Diana gasped softly and he snatched his hand away like he'd touched one of the electric fences back on the ranch. "Sorry." 

"It's fine, it's just a scar." She took a steadying breath and retraced the path his finger had just taken on her skin with her own, pensive. "I got caught in a shootout on my way home when I was home for summer from university once. It's just a graze." Just a graze that would have been more than that if it had hit just a few inches to the side. Javier felt faint at the thought. 

"Do you have any?"

"Huh?" His brain is lagging on something, hence the eloquent reply. 

"You said you get shot at a lot in this job. Ever been hit?" She ducks her head a little, looking up at him through her lashes from where she's leaning back against the wall. "Come on, I showed you mine, you show me yours." It's clearly a joke, and one she obviously regrets as soon as the words are out, judging by the pained expression that comes right after the statement. 

"Just one." Javier said, tapping his leg about a handwidth above the knee. "Went right through. Apparently missed the main artery by less than half an inch." 

"Hmm, " she hummed, "Looks like we're both lucky then." 

"Yeah," Javier agreed, his voice soft and low, "lucky." 

The changing rooms really were not cramped, but with two fully grown adults inside, they were just about spacious enough. They stood barely an arm's length apart, mirror to one side and thick faux-velvet curtain to the other. Javier felt heat prickle from the base of his neck downwards, and he wasn't even the one with half his chest out. He'd only rolled up his shirtsleeves to his elbows, leaving his forearms bare. 

Her hand brushed over one gently, curling around his wrist and startling him out of whatever feverish reverie he'd zoned out into. 

"So," she trailed her fingertips further down, over his knuckles and the wire slung around them, before tapping against the small black cylinder that housed the recording device and battery, "does this thing get hot?" 

Pull yourself together and be fucking professional! "It shouldn't." 

"Right, well let's get it on then." 

He handed her the microphone end first. Explained ideal placement, the closer to the face the better. This was a modified necktie bug, small and discreet, secured against the skin with tape if necessary. She took it, pinned the mic to the strap of her bra, high up on the shoulder. The wire itself was long enough to wind around her torso once with some slack. The slim casing that held the battery and recording device she tucked into her bra for now. Listened intently as he explained how to turn the device on and off. 

"I'll keep this on for the rest of the day, just to get used to the feeling." Her smile was a bit wobbly as she spoke. 

"Yeah, that's ...uh, a good idea." Javier fidgeted a moment, not sure what to do with his hands. "Right, I'll leave you to your-" 

She gripped his hands just as he was about to turn and leave. Alarmed, he stilled. Watched he lip wobble and the rims of her eyes redden under furrowed brows. "Hey, what is it?, What's wrong?"

She heaved a deep and shaky breath that ended in an even shakier laugh. "I'm sorry I'm just... I'm scared."

"You don't have to do this if you don't feel safe." Javier was quick to offer. "You've helped us so much already."

She swallowed hard. "No, I do want to! Do this, help you. I want to bring them down! Besides, I'm going to be there anyway, so it would be a waste not to-" 

She was trembling now, unaware of her own body's reaction until it was brought into sharp relief by his large warm hands on her shoulders. 

"Hey," he said, thumbs rubbing gently at her collarbones, "It's going to be alright. I won't let anything happen to you, okay?" 

She knew, realistically, that there was only so far he could carry a promise like that, but her nerves calmed nonetheless. It was silly, really. This relationship was just a professional alliance, no matter how many deep secrets they'd shared with one another. Officially of course they couldn't ever be associated, at least as long as any of the 'Gentlemen' of Calí still roamed free. And yet, she trusted him.  

"I know. I'm sorry." She babbled, nerves imploring her to externalize her anxiety through words. "I came to you; I wanted this... want this. I'm in. I'll try to be brave."

He squeezed her shoulders gently. "You're one of the bravest people I know." And that was the crux of it, wasn't it? Because deep down he didn't want her to be brave. Helena had been brave too, and what did it get her? 

"I'm just… I'm tired of being afraid." She steadied herself on him, hands gripping his biceps now. 

"Sometimes being afraid is what keeps us alive." He murmured, bringing one hand up to tilt her face to meet his gaze. "Listen to me. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you're safe, okay? Whatever I can, I promise. I can't have you on my conscience as well." The last part was whispered so softly that she barely caught it, but she nodded, pulling herself together and schooling her breathing.  

"Thank you." She squeezed her hands once and let go. Javier searched her face for a moment longer, thumb brushing over her cheekbone absently, before he remembered himself and drew back.

"You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "yeah I'll be fine." 

"Okay." Javier breathed, straightening, hand going for the curtain. "I'll wait outside."

Her answering smile was still shaky, but not quite as much so.

When Javier ducked out of the changing room his first glance is towards the stroller, where Salome is still napping peacefully. His second glance is directed towards the shop assistant sorting through the returns rack, directed there by the woman's disapproving huff. It's not the same one who helped them pick out dresses, but a slightly older woman, one who carries the gravitas of authority derived by experience with her. 

"Did your wife need help?" She quips while untangling garments from hangers. Out of all that's happened over the past quarter of an hour or so, this is what really makes Javier's ears burn. 

"Yes, with the um... zipper." He stutters, wishing for the first time that day since leaving the base that he could have a smoke. 

"Hmm," the shop assistant resumed her folding, "You would not believe the kinds of things people get up to in there." Her disapproving stare moved to the stroller where Salome was still blissfully asleep under his blazer. He snatches the garment away guiltily, but Salome doesn't even stir, just slumbers on cutely. At last, the woman's eyes soften. 

"Yes, well... call me or any of my colleagues if you need further... assistance." 

"Thanks." He clears his throat and sits as she sails off with an armful of clothes. Miss Rivas poked her head out not a second later. 

"I'm sorry, your what?" 

At least she was laughing again, even if her eyes were still slightly red-rimmed and watery. 

"Sorry, next time I'll be sure to clarify that you are my confidential informant and we're taking down the world's biggest drug cartel together." He retorts, and she breaks out into a wide grin accompanied by a snorty burst of laughter. 

"Well, if you put it like that it sounds almost romantic." Now it's his turn to snort. "I do actually need help with this zipper, though." 

She stepped half out of the little alcove, clad in a floor-length, wine-red halter gown with intricate beading all over, and a slit so high it makes his brain short-circuit. Which causes him to just stare at her dumbly for a long moment, even after she's already turned to present the high back of it. 

"Agent Peña?" She throws over her shoulder, somewhere between amused and slightly concerned. He jumps and strides over, fingers fidgeting with the zipper tab until he gets a decent grip and starts to pull it up the rest of the way. 

"Uh, no I meant down." Her voice is as strained as he feels. He pulls the tab down, desperately trying not to focus on the skin being revealed as he does. She releases a relieved breath when he's done and turns, stepping back inside the changing room. 

"Thanks."

"This one good?" He asks with a non-committal shrug, nodding towards the dress without really looking at it. 

"No, I think I do need to be able to breathe. And also I'd like to be able to walk without flashing everyone. I do work with these people, after all." She smiled, one hand on the curtain ready to draw it back shut. "I'll be quick with the rest, but you can take Salome for a turn if you want, maybe have a smoke outside? We can meet back here or by the registers." 

They both look at the little girl's sleeping form simultaneously, watch her eyes move rapidly under her lids as she is lost in dreams. 

"Thanks, but it's alright. I can stay in case you need further...help."

It really isn't long after that. She hurries, but they also make light conversation while she tries on another five or six dresses. She doesn't come out with most of them but narrates all their flaws very entertainingly. Javier once again enjoys how forward she is, not censoring herself in the least as she complains about everything from odd sizing to itchy material to unfortunate placement of embellishments. 

"Okay, last one." She announces and then draws back the curtain with a flourish and Javier... just gapes. The dress is midnight blue, so dark it looks almost black until light hits the silky fabric and reflects off of it. The color compliments the deep bronze tan of her skin like it had been chosen specifically for her. It's slim-cut, body-hugging and high-collared with thin spaghetti straps and subtle beading on the bodice. A tasteful slit goes to just above the knee and the hem brushes just over the tops of her feet. 

"I think this will work." 

'Oh it definitely works.' Luckily Javier's mouth is currently too dry for these words to slip out, so he just nods, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

"Great! Let me change back real quick and let's get out of here." 

He's just adjusting his suit jacket to lie over the still blissfully sleeping toddler like a blanket when Diana steps back out, back on her shorts and top. 

"Looks like the American taxpayers are in luck. It's discounted." She said as she read the tag, then draped the blue dress over the top of the stroller. "Twenty percent. Not bad." 

Javier snorted. Took the other dresses and hung them up on the returns rack. Grabbed the stroller handles and gently set the vehicle in motion. Salome stirred a moment, then bunched a chubby hand in the fabric sheltering her from the chilly air-conditioning and settled back down. Diana's gaze is soft upon her niece, and soft still when she raises her eyes to meet Javier's. 

They make their way down to the registers, walking from the top floor of the department store downwards, weaving around racks and shelves and other shoppers. Javier is pushing the stroller, Miss Rivas at his side where possible, her hand loosely hooked into the crook of his elbow again as she likes to do. It's two floors down, as they traverse the men's section, that she suddenly sidetracks, half disentangling herself, half pulling him over to a wall display. Neckties. He raises a questioning eyebrow. 

"Since we're here already." She shrugs, like that explains everything. It doesn't. The eyebrw remains up and quizzical. 

"Explain." 

There's a dangerous glint in her eye as she lets her fingertips glide over the assorted fabrics. 

"Gabi said you only have ugly ties." Has she now.

"She's only seen two!" Javier protests without heat. She eyes him critically, eyes the tie he put on this morning at the asscrack of dawn for his damn meetings. He has half a mind to argue that he didn't feel like dressing up all pretty for some pissy general at half past four in the morning. 

"Was this one of them?" Though truth be told perhaps his tie selection is a bit... outdated. This one is several brownish tones in a very 70s pattern, if he's being honest. 

"No?" But this one was also one of the old ones that had been gifts from Lorraine he'd never gotten rid of. 

"Then you have three ugly ties." There is no arguing with this woman. So, he submits. "You'll have to make announcements on national television sooner or later; you'll need to look decent." 

"I'm not arguing, am I?" He figures what's the point. What's the worst that could happen. And she knows she's won, too. Gleefully starts peering through the selection before them. 

"Is this revenge? For this?" He motioned to the dress still draped over the stroller, his meaning clear between them. Is this for making you go to a party with the world's most powerful drug bosses with a wire up your boobs.

"No." She lied, picking up a solid charcoal tie and holding it up to his collar. "Of course not." 

She picks out four, two solid and two patterned.

By the time he parks the car back on a side street in Envigado Salome is awake and very grumpy. A snack of peach slices and crackers mollifies her somewhat, but just enough to get her in the house and distracted by her toys before throwing a fit. Javier carried in the car seat and then the stroller, after Diana's signal that the coast was clear, and lastly he grabs her shopping bag and stuffs the last item on his itinerary for this visit inside, before he forgets again. 

"Another coffee?" He wants to, he really does, but if he ingests any caffeine now he knows he won't sleep until well after midnight. So he shakes his head, apologetic. He's tired, sure, but he'll power through until he reaches his hotel (and then promptly collapse on the bed there.)

"I have one last... I brought you something, just in case." He hands her the bag, and she looks at him quizzically. Until she looks inside, that is. 

"What's this?" She holds the garment up in question, turns it in her hands a a few times. Javier clears his throat.

"Bulletproof vest." 

She gulps. Pales imperceptibly, eyes flitting between him and the vest. 

"You really think this is neces-"

"Just in case." He insists. It probably wouldn't- it's a newer model, thinner and more discreet than the tac vests they use out in the field, but likely still too bulky to be hidden under her normal work clothes, even though she favors looser cuts. He takes it from her gently, motions for her to put her arms up so he can lower the vest over her head and do it up at the sides. Explains how it needs to be secured tight to the body so it doesn't shift. 

"It won't work under my normal work clothes." Miss Rivas frowns, hands smoothing down over the front of it, calculating. Probably going through her wardrobe mentally. Doing an admirable job of not letting fear grip her again like that earlier hiccup. "It's too bulky."

"No, you're right." Javier conceded, hands still at her sides where his fingers are hooked into the clasps of the vest. "You should still take it. Who knows when it'll come in handy."

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Author’s note cont’d: this is the song Javi is hearing over the phone in the first scene btw

learn about bugs and wires here (though I do admit that I am playing a bit fast and loose with this here ;)

this is what I based the first dress on:

and here’s the final dress: 

and yes, I hate about 90% of the ties they have him wear in the show and that is how that bit came about. Sorry to throw Lorraine under the bus a bit there but I’m sure they were fashionable at the time :/

Next Chapter

[tikiniki]

It’s soon time my dears! I will post the first chapter of my new fic, Princes of the Universe, on Monday. I intend to (read try) keep a schedule this time, posting one chapter every monday. 

Princes of the Universe is a space adventure featuring frian, dealor and ultimately poly!Queen (ofc, I mean it’s me). I’m so excited over this project. It’s very self indulgent but I hope at least some of you will enjoy the ride!

The moodboard show Mercury and May, one of the most famous bounty hunter teams in the galaxy.

[seoschangbin]

hehe totally understandable!!! also i forgot to compliment your mobile header!!! its super nice and pretty😊💞man i'll be wishing you best rachel n will be hoping those marks are better than you expect!😭💞and thank you! only got one more final left!!! luckily yes i enjoy my major, it's doable!!! omggg microbiology and immunology!!! Respect😤💞i have a cousin who majors in micro bio too so i know how tough it can be! so always wishing you the best with it😚do you enjoy your major? :0 -🎁💫

omg thank you msdjgsdkg things i do to avoid studying haha sorry for my late reply btw!! 😭 aah no hopes for those marks just want to not think about it 😩✋ you finished tuesday right! how was the last one! are you graduating soon? :O i enjoy parts of my major!! some parts i could do without (@biochem. Die) 

also i saw your final moodboard n recent text post ; ^ ; i hope you're doing well and that tomorrow is kinder to you!!! i'm cheering you on and sending you positive thoughts🙇🏻‍♀️💓and goodness that just makes the intros a lil more special then!💞oh you're right! :0 i remember seeing that interview!!! i hope felix can indulge in more song writing since he clearly seems to have a passion for it!💞gremlin rap i djsakjslka😭n oh gosh voices is so!!! beautiful n so emotional🥺-🎁💫

my final tomorrow morning.. prayer time... looked my prof in the eye as i left and i felt kinda like 😒 but thank u for your kind thoughts!! me too!! i feel like he wrote his own lyrics for the song they did on immortal songs and 😯 felix bls write more rap lyrics hehe .. i said what i said! he’s Gremlin! + i agree.. voices (also hellevator) always makes my heart hurt 😩

side effects!!!!! nice to know you're a cultured stay😎i loveeee side effects!!! i'm gonna have to say miroh is my favorite title tho bc it was their first title i listened to so i'm gonna remain sentimental about it for a while! even tho i reallyyyy love levanter🥺💓i feel like binnie would pull off plat blonde... but true who knows😣and wow we got even More changbin selfies yesterday... hes really blessing us huh🥺the binnie drought... she improving!!! oh and the group before was got7! -🎁💫

njasdg i love side effects.. the choreo... i’m always 😭 omg that’s fair!! i love miroh too it’s what brought me back into skz after a while so i’m always like ~hype~ about it too 😌 binnie drought back again.. winning 1st for levanter and bin only posting a hyunjin pic.. ok changbin.. i see how it is.... 

oh interesting got7!!!! hehe i had a phase w got7 too they’re lovely 😖

from all the things i've seen skz really are such sweeties🥺i'm SO slow tho i really gotta start watching more of their variety omg... tired of being a fake stay😔i watched that video the other day n i swear the transition to changbin getting his punishment sent me😭this may be too much wishful thinking but i am desperately wishing when they go to LA they can go to buzzfeed n see some pups or kittens🥺oct 2017!!! truly an og stay pls thats so cute😭💕happy late anniversary! -🎁💫

they really just are the biggest sweeties :( me watching their vlives just 😭 don’t be sweet i’ll.. i’ll fall in love with u boys stop that... if you haven’t already you should watch their reality show finding skz!! they’re so funny 😞 omg i would DIE for a buzzfeed interview now i want that too 😭the monsta x puppies one was so cute bls skz.. bls do one.. also thank u!! i’m ancient 🤦‍♀️

binnie's rap truly takes me out all the time... the talent inside this little man i just😳😳😳when i first saw the matroshyka perf i was!!!!! mind blown omg. i've always loved rappers in groups but changbin really won😭and ofc! take time with your list n do it only if you want!!!😊felix and hyunjin as wreckers!!! so cute i totally get it hehe since truthfully ot9 always gets to me! -🎁💫

omg “this little man” msdgj it’s true .. i always think abt how felix was like “yeah when i heard changbin say maaaatroshyka on the survival show i knew we won” like bro. ur right.. me too! changbin 🤝 changkyun best rappers. nd ur right! i rly cycle so much through ot9 wooj was rly climbing to the top and then the News 😫

so cheesy but when i heard channie singing to tenerife sea i just Knew he was the one🥺🤲🏼and when i saw a video of him just being his sweetie self in chan's room n talking about how we can always come to him n skz!!! i just admire his sweetness so much, idk he just inspires me a ton!💞hehe do you think chan is my only bias though? i'm not sure if its obvious, i feel like it is, but i'm double biased!!!😎💞even tho all of my friends say i should just claim to be ot9 biased🙇🏻‍♀️-🎁💫

omg cute!!! he rly is the sweetest boy :( his recent-ish live w felix sent me they’re just so pure nd just the goodest boys 😔💕 omg! double biased!! who’s the other! :O ot9 bias goes too hehe 

also hope you're doing well rachel!!! i'm doing okay🤗💞don't apologize for the late reply bc i totally understand! please take your time, its all good!💞💕(also dont mind the paragraphs at all! i send bunches too! its nice talking to you🥰💞)-🎁💫

me and chronic lateness.. terrible smh! but i guess you’d be on break now, do you have any fun plans? 😊

[simonarmstrcng]

heyo, i’m pepper, and i’m late as usual (who’s surprised?? not me lmao)! i am here to introduce you to my favourite mess, simon who was actually one of my first muses! i’m trying to revive him so atm he’s a bit bare bones but here’s hoping i can get through this intro coherently (unlikely, but i’ll try)

[ MUSE 3 ] ●● is that LUCAS JADE ZUMANN ? no, that’s just SIMON ARMSTRONG , the 16 year old CISMALE who is a HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR. some say they’re NERVOUS AND AWKWARD, but their family and friends will swear they’re INTELLIGENT AND COMPASSIONATE. when i think of them, i think of the smell of books, fingers indented by violin strings, freshly dusted spelling bee trophies, wrinkled noses, ironed socks, ink stained fingers, and notebooks filled with doodles. i wonder if their family know that HE is hiding that HE’S QUESTIONING HIS SEXUALITY. ●● ( pepper && twenty two && est && she/her )

BIO(ISH)

tl;dr he’s a soft anxious overachieving nerd who likes to draw. that’s it, that’s really it idk why i took so long to say that sdkjsdkj

here is an aesthetic moodboard for simon and here and here are a few personality one’s with gifs! also here is his pinterest board 

inspired by: seth cohen, stiles stilinski, amy santiago, hermione granger (and a bit of neville longbottom i’m ngl), spencer reid. 

simon has always been a bit high strung tbh i’m ngl. he was the kid on the playground who was always a bit too mature for the kids around him in the way that he’d be like five and stressing about his potential career paths or the state of global warming yk, always kind of had conversations with grown adults that made them do a double take just because very adult conversation coming out of a tiny kid can be kind of startling. that said, he never really quite fit in with his peers because of that, i feel like he may have even been bullied for it a bit in the past. he was definitely that kid who reminded the teacher about the homework i am not going to lie to you. 

 simon always took academics extremely seriously. he always puts pressure on himself to be perfect and get straight a’s and he is like the definition of a try hard, simon tries hard at freaking everything. his hard work pays off though, he’s been at the top of the honour roll for the past few years and he’s got more spelling bee, science fair, debate, and decathlon trophies decorating his room than he knows what to do with.

(not one for any athletics though,,, physical exercise was never simon’s strong suit)

also plays the violin and the piano, again, more evidence of him being a huge overachiever. he is actually quite talented honestly but he isn’t really incredibly passionate about either instrument. 

simon has asthma, is allergic to bees, has sleep paralysis and pretty bad anxiety. he used to get panic attacks as a child and while he hasn’t quite grown out of it, it’s not nearly as bad now. i feel like he is on medication for it though and he may even go to therapy. 

afraid of abandonment (irrational because i’m pretty sure he’s never been abandoned but it’s there) and he’s also afraid of failure, of being a disappointment to his family, of never living up to his potential (when he was younger he was advanced for his age academically so he has skipped a grade.) he fears that he’s a disappointment to his parents as a son considering he is the farthest thing one can be from a potential fbi agent, and considering he can’t even do a lap without wheezing he doesn’t think he ever will be, but he is trying to aim for forensics instead of anything in the actual field anywhere close to actual danger. kind of insecure despite his success and low, low, low, low low key kind of feels like the kid his dad brought home might be his new replacement as a son. 

one of his closest friends is the school guidance counselor atm. think edge of seventeen. he just goes in there, eats his lunch and talks to her about everything that’s going on with his life like it’s cheap therapy. 

wants to go to harvard and is a big ball of stress over it currently. he’s hit a whole new level of academic intensity and his sexuality crisis is not helping in the slightest, but it is very much happening and he doesn’t know what the hell to do about it thanks for asking. he may be bi or gay or pan or none of the above, he’s not sure and he’s not thinking about it because he doesn’t have time to be questioning his sexuality when college admissions are rearing their ugly head. 

a big introvert. can occasionally be very witty and funny if he’s comfortable you but if he’s not he tends to just be quiet and kind of awkward. tends to enjoy to spend a lot of time alone in his room playing animal crossing, or indulging in a very private hobby, drawing. 

simon has always loved art and comics and drawing but he knows they’re kind of pointless passions, like realistically he doesn’t think he will even actually become a comic book artist the odds are too low. and yet that hasn’t stopped him from doing it. drawing is really one of the only things that really calms his anxiety, and that he really enjoys doing. that and reading. so simon has secretly been drawing a comic. he hasn’t really shared it with anybody and would die if anyone found out about it. here is a moodboard for the comic (he’s going by the pen name orion kace like the nerd he is) and here are some headcannons about it. 

honestly a big sap. like lilo and stitch can still make him tear up even if he won’t admit it dkjdkj. he’s got a soft heart and kind of just wants to make sure everybody’s okay tbh. tends to worry more than he lets on which is saying something because he worries outwardly a lot too.

can be very tempermental/moody and selfish though, especially when stressed. he gets to a very self centered ‘woe is me i’m the only one with problems’ place when he’s stressed out. 

a big ass nerd! i feel that goes without saying but loves comics books, loves star wars, harry potter, and could probably recite the opening scene of game of thrones yk, that kind of nerd. 

has never gone to a party. has never smoked weed. has never snuck out. has never tasted more than a sip of alcohol. honestly, simon hasn’t done anything, and he’s okay with that. 

i think that’s it omg tHAT’S PROBABLY IT. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS ;

best friends - i feel like at least two of these would be fun! a little squad for my lonely boy (2/2) cailin, john

childhood friends - i will give you my left arm for a childhood friends plot. unlikely friends maybe? or just two nerds being dweebs together? friends who are still close as hell friends who had a falling out or just grew apart, idc i love it all please give it to me. cailin

the ex - i feel like simon maybe had ONE relationship in his lifetime if that and relationship might be stretching things. they could have held hands on the playground when they were six or dated in middle school (do you like me check yes or no sdkjsdk) kind of think like it could be that or it could be a high school thing, once again idc give it to me. 

student - someone who simon tutors maybe? simon is probably volunteering to do it to look good on his uni application so Yes free tutoring from your local nerd. skylar, aria, 

crush - like i said simon is questioning his sexuality so if anybody wants to volunteer to be the boy that simon has an inconvenient crush on please be my guest. scout

rival - an academic rival would be !!! so fun, because simon is lowkey quite competitive so this could be a really interesting connection. farrah

mentor - someone who simon looks up to a whole lot. this would likely have to be someone either really cool or really nerdy and this is open to older muses mostly, just older than simon tbh ajax

bad influence - someone who will get this boy to live a little! maybe drag him out to a party, get him a joint, get him drunk, the works! leo, andrew

those are just some ideas but ofc like this if you want to plot and i will come running! okay thank