#I'll try to write something with actual effort this weekend

[notjustjavierpena]

you mentioned wife being the first person javi opened up to about his mother.

imagine him walking with her around his fathers ranch and just showing her all the places from his childhood, his favourite hiding spots etc and causally just mentioning his mum here and there. reader is clinging to his arm and just basking in the day.

at night they’re staying in his childhood bedroom since it got late and they had quite a few beers with Chucho and eventually javi is holding wife/then girlfriend close and just says “i’ve never told anyone about my mother before like this” or something like that ahhh

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A/N: This is extremely personal for me to write about as a person who knows what it is like to lose a parent when you are young. I have written this with utmost gratitude to Hubby Javi because I can process some feelings through him. I hope you enjoy this harsh thing. I hope you know that this heals me and I hope it heals other people too. It might not be completely how you wanted it but I hope you like it better.

Summary: Javier opens up about the loss of his mother inside his childhood bedroom.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, angst, talk about abusive parenting, talk about grief, descriptions of a child experiencing grief and the loss of a parent, descriptions of cancer and its effects physically and emotionally, talk about death obviously, hurt/comfort, love confessions, openness is beautiful!!! kisses, clit stim, sex to deal with emotions

Word count: 4.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56911576

Open

About two months ago, you promised Chucho Peña that you would help him with the annual apple harvest and suddenly, the leaves are turning brown, and September begins with magazines filling up with apple pie recipes. 

Today, you have dressed the part for a weekend on your father-in-law’s ranch with your boyfriend. Dressing the part means that you have gone out to buy yourself a pair of denim overalls that make you look mostly like a caricature of a farm girl. Javier promises that he finds it sort of endearing, reassuring you every time you bring it up with embarrassment on your face. 

“Stop worrying,” he says as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, standing on a ladder that you are holding whilst he plucks apples off what seems like the millionth tree in the orchard, “He likes you, baby.”

“I should have just gone with my usual clothes,” you argue with a little sigh. Javier doesn’t know how much it means to you that you aren’t seen as foolish, how much it would hurt to find out that you are seen as the butt of a joke behind closed doors. He doesn’t know how much you need this approval because Chucho Peña is the kindest and most gentle and attentive older man you have ever met, treating you like his own child with a soft mija (my girl/daughter) that had been enough for you to excuse yourself for a moment the first time you had heard it. He is not at all like your own father. 

“You’re making an effort that doesn’t go unnoticed,” Javier offers as a consolation after you have stayed silent for a little too long, stepping down the ladder and taking off his work gloves. He stuffs them into his belt and kisses you with another reassuring smile, “He likes you.”

“I guess I'll just have to trust you,” you sigh dramatically and Javier pulls you into an embrace, the chuckle he lets out vibrating against your chest. You feel his lips pull into a smile as he rests his mouth against your cheek.

“You are kind and honest,” he compliments and sways you from side to side as he holds you close. You wrap yourself around him too, listening to his sweet words and breathing in his scent, “And he thinks the world of you. I might actually start to feel a little jealous.”

A little smile forms on your face as he squeezes you tighter and when he pulls back just a bit to kiss you, you nod at him, trying to play it cool despite thoughts of self-doubt nagging at you, “I did warn you about how I get around parents..” 

“I know, mi amor (my love), I know,” he acknowledges and holds you close again, “But you did enough to charm him the first time to be invited back. And the overalls really do sell it.”

“Shut up,” you groan as he snickers in your ear. He always manages to make your heart flutter in your chest, teasing you relentlessly but grounding you as he does it. None of your baggage is too big for him, even as you present it with trembling hands from how heavy it feels to you.

“Just a few more minutes here and we can have a well-earned fucking break. I love you but not enough to skive off in my Dad’s garden,” he tells you and starts to loosen you from his embrace, “That okay?”

You nod and then you finally break apart. Javier gets back onto the ladder to pick the remaining apples off the tree in front of you. He starts the repetitive task once again, handing each one to you so you can carefully put them in the basket on the ground so they don’t bruise. While you do it, you find your mind drifting to the day you met Chucho. 

You remember the drive to the ranch, your heart pounding in your chest at a million miles per hour, and the fake smile you had given Javier each time he had asked if you were okay. During your stay for dinner and drinks, and as you smiled and charmed, you hid the anxiety until you were all the way back at Javier’s apartment once more, only then letting your facade crumble and telling him that the dizzying nervousness he had seen on the drive back had nothing to do with his father and everything to do with your own. 

Javier had asked you if your parents had ever hurt you and with a shaky voice, you’d had to explain that while the answer was no, what you received instead of deliberate cruelty was cruel indifference. 

“I don’t know what’s worse,” you had said with stinging tears in your eyes, “Being hurt or being invisible.”

“You’re not invisible to me,” Javier had whispered into your hair. He had held you tightly that evening, right in his hallway, feet planted on the floorboards that have become yours too, his arms a harbor of reassurance that things will never be like that again, “I will never allow anyone to treat you like that again.”

Now, as you place another apple gently in the basket, you think about how different Chucho Peña is from your father. Chucho’s attention is genuine and warm, listening to you with the same interest as Javier shows too, letting you know where some of your boyfriend’s mannerisms come from, whereas your parents’ show of care was always fleeting and conditional to the point where you wondered why they even decided to have you. 

“Hey,” Javier’s voice breaks through your thoughts. He’s looking down at you from the ladder, concern on his face and gloves already off again, “¿Estás bien? (You okay?)”

“Yeah, sorry,” you feel embarrassed that it’s so evident on your face that you aren’t at ease but decide to be honest, “Just thinking about parents and overalls.”

Javier steps down onto the gravel again, laying the gloves on the top step of the ladder. He tuts, face serious for a moment. 

“C’mon, you’ve been standing in the sun too long. Let’s take a break now and go for a walk in the garden. Still got a lot to show you,” he says with his hand reaching out for you. You take it with an unsure smile, but as you are interlocking your fingers and gently swaying your arms between your bodies as you start walking, you find that it feels more than alright to let yourself be comforted by him. 

Javier leads you through the apple trees until you are out of the orchard completely. He talks quietly about the ranch but there’s a slight hesitation to dig deeper than the materials and the construction of his childhood home. You decide not to push it, knowing that it was not easy to reveal your secrets, and instead admire the many flowers that will bloom in next year’s Spring. 

Javier seems to notice you taking in all the different bushes and flowers and you’ll never admit to seeing his shoulders slump slightly just before he starts talking again, “Mom loved this garden, you know. She spent hours here, tending to every single plant until her fingertips were green and dirt-smudged. I used to follow her around, pretending to help but mostly just getting in the way.”

“Didn’t get into trouble, did you?” You tease and lean into him as you walk. 

“Loads and I would hide up there when she got angry with me,” he points to an old and slightly weathered oak tree, a rope ladder in even worse condition hanging down the trunk, “But she’d always soften if I apologized. Once she said she liked her hyacinths without their heads to make me feel better.”

“I’d swap parents in a heartbeat,” you sigh with your head on his shoulders and he moves to let you hold onto his arm instead. He goes a little quieter and you allow him to hold onto her memory by himself for a moment, looking up to see a slight crinkle on his forehead. 

“Even when you’d only have one?” He eventually murmurs into your hair and from the way he exhales, you know that he regrets saying it, “I mean… I know you would.”

“You have beautiful memories of her, I can tell,” you say as gently as possible, “If you ever want to tell me more about her, I’m here to listen, you know.”

Javier clears his throat, “Thank you.”

A moment passes but nothing more happens. This would be the perfect opportunity but the silence stretches out until you walk beside him again, holding his hand instead of basking in his half-embrace. You want to say something but you are at a loss, searching for the right words to comfort him but failing just long enough for him to change the subject. 

“We should go see how far Pop has gotten,” he suggests lightheartedly and steers you back where you came from, out of what used to be his sanctuary with his mother. 

“Yeah, sure, baby,” you reply. 

Another time then.

—

When the sun has gone down behind the horizon and the cicadas have come out from their hiding places, singing their hearts out, Javier takes you to his old room upstairs. The both of you have had alcohol with dinner and while Javier had offered to take a cab, his father had scolded him for even thinking about such nonsense, telling him that it was a joy to have him home so wholeheartedly. Your father-in-law had looked at you with a warm smile as he had said it. 

Now, you lie in Javier’s old bed - just a little bit too small for the both of you - with the quilted bedspread lying neatly folded in the end. It somehow feels more intimate to be in his childhood bedroom than it would be to go through his underwear drawer. 

Right above you, several posters are pinned to the ceiling and overlapping each other. The corners of the posters curl slightly and their colors have dulled since the 70s but they display the men of rock bands like Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd. Some display the band logos too, they exist on the CDs that you have found in Javier’s glove compartment but he never listens to them when he drives you around. You make a mental note to casually put one of them on during your drive home tomorrow. 

Seeing those iconic faces from the 70s stare down at you, you can’t help but glance fondly at Javier when he isn’t looking but instead standing by the open window on the opposite wall, smoking a cigarette. Suddenly, his wardrobe consisting of denim jeans, colorful shirts, and leather jackets makes sense. 

You try to imagine Don Chucho coming in here with the determination to put out the cigarette in his son’s hand, holding in a lecture that would only have made the teenager roll his eyes. Then the snark that would have come out of Javier’s mouth, his face mustache-free and full of spots, and you smile so much that you turn around onto your stomach to hide your expression in his pillow. 

It smells faintly of sweat and the cheap cologne only a teenager would have bought, so you turn to peek at your boyfriend again. He taps his fingers on the window sill, overlooking the garden that you have come to learn so much about earlier. 

You spot small pieces of who he is everywhere; a stack of sociology books, paperback horror books with titles in both English and Spanish. The most worn down and loved one is El Resplandor which you guess to be The Shining. There’s also a corkboard on the wall with ticket stubs and polaroids, a framed photograph on the desk that you haven’t had the courage or chance to look at yet, beside it a figurine of La Virgen de Guadalupe that’s been tipped over in what seems to be frustration. Your smile drops a little as you feel the weight of the unfairness he must have felt. 

From the window, Javier exhales a puff of smoke and reaches up to rub his eye with his free hand. You glance again at the photograph on the desk, curiosity getting the better of you as you rise from the bed and walk over to it. 

As expected, the picture is of Javier's mother. What you didn’t expect is seeing your boyfriend at the age of what you calculate to be younger than ten. The resemblance is striking; her features are mirrored in his even with how much he still looks like his father. 

You chew on the inside of your cheek as you pick up the religious figurine next to the picture, placing her upright once more so her head is tipped toward Javier and his mother. There’s a surge of emotion in your stomach that you try to suppress, a sense of urgency to reach through the photograph and comfort the little boy who has lost half of himself. 

You hear him stub out his cigarette on the wood paneling outside, followed by the dry sound of him trying to brush the ashes off the wood again with his calloused hands. In his late thirties and still acting as if he’ll get caught by his father. 

He turns back towards you and you act like nothing has happened, holding out your hand for him to take. He glances in the direction of his mother’s photo but decides not to say anything even as he notices the figurine standing upright once again. You flex your fingers to draw attention to your hovering hand, “Come to bed.” 

You’ve both already been in your underwear for a while since it’s late and you’re alone - the overalls hang on the back of his door, scowling at you - so he simply takes your hand and you walk backward until the edge hits the back of your legs. You let yourself fall down onto the bed and into the mattress, moving backward until there’s room for him too. 

Javier sighs the second he is lying down next to you, your shoulders touching from the missing width of the bed. He turns onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow and staring down at your face. 

“What?” You ask with a little smile.

There’s a flash of something in his eyes and the fact that he hasn’t said anything yet makes you want to squirm nervously. He reaches out with the arm he has been lying on, splaying his fingers against your cheek as his thumb rests underneath your chin, and then he crashes your mouths together in a kiss that you know is him resolving back to past methods of dealing with it all. 

However, you find yourself kissing him back at first, grabbing his wrist, and leaning into him to make out with him in a way that his younger self wouldn’t have believed was possible to experience. There’s a warm feeling in your stomach as you tangle your legs together, desire for him swirling below your belly button. 

You gasp against his lips when his free hand slips into your panties, your heart hammering in your chest as he smears some of your wetness over your clit. He rubs you off until you breathe heavily, fingertip dancing back and forth over the hard nub.

“You’re so wet,” he moans quietly and slowly increases the pressure of his fingers. He really wants you to come, it seems. You didn’t have getting laid in your boyfriend’s childhood bed down on this year’s bingo card but you can feel your orgasm approaching so damn quickly that it makes you not able to think straight. 

“Baby,” you babble, horny out of your mind from the intense emotions in the air, “I’m not gonna— in your dad’s house.”

“Yes, you fucking are,” he says in a low voice, kissing your open and panting mouth to shut you up. You might come but he won’t have you making noise loud enough to reveal what you are doing. He growls in the back of his throat, “You want my fingers? Don’t reply. Just nod or shake your head.”

You dig your nails into his wrist hard enough to create little crescent-shaped marks. You want to nod your head so badly but it feels wrong to be nothing but an outlet, a distraction from what you should be talking about. So instead, you shake your head with a moan, on the brink of bursting, “Stop, Javier. Stop.”

Javier raises his brow but immediately brings his hand to a halt, watching as you whimper from being edged. You clutch at your own chest, rolling away to not tempt him to fall back into his bad habit. 

“¿Qué pasa (What’s going on)?” He asks with a crease on his forehead. He tries to kiss you again but you put a hand on his chest to create some space between the two of you. He scowls, “What? You’re not having sex with me because we’re in my Pop’s house?” 

“That wasn’t sex,” you bite with frustration throughout your lower body, reaching down to fix the waistband of your underwear. The fabric sticks to you and your throbbing clit tells you to beg for forgiveness so it can have its release. You ignore it, “That was you avoiding the elephant in the room with intimacy and I don’t want to be a part of that.”

Javier lets himself fall onto his back, reaching up to push the heels of his hands into his eyes. He groans and lets his palms run down his face until his arms rest along his sides again. He heaves a big sigh, “Shit. Shit, sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you promise because it is. You aren’t even mad despite how you probably should be, only feeling the way your heart aches for the boy who had to grow up too fast. Without a word, you reach down to entwine your fingers and give his hand a reassuring squeeze, “I promise. It’s okay.”

“We talk about her but we don’t talk about her,” he says to the ceiling. You go quiet and choose to simply listen instead of breaking the streak of him opening up about something so vulnerable. Instead of using your words, you rub his hand in soothing circles. 

“Pop likes to mention her occasionally but it’s with a little smile on his face and a funny story,” he continues quietly, “And that’s fine. Really, it is. I like remembering the good but he says all the right things without making it hurt. It feels as though he expects me to keep all the bad in check and believe me, there was a lot of awful shit. So much that sometimes it feels like I can’t move when I am reminded of it. Hospitals with never-ending halls, that poisonous shit they shot into her veins, her losing her hair, even her goddamn eyelashes, and suddenly not—“

He stops for a moment and swallows thickly. You turn onto your side and rest your forehead against his shoulder, still clutching his hand to let him know you are not letting go. He clears his throat to sound as if his voice isn’t wavering, “Suddenly not recognizing her anymore. This terrible sight of her turning yellow during her last few weeks. I was just a kid and it was horrible and unfair. I wish he’d acknowledge how horrible and unfair it was.” 

You kiss his bare shoulder a few times. There are so many things you want to say but mostly, it is that you are so sorry for what he went through. 

“I think I learned that nothing lasts forever,” he adds without looking at you, staring down at where his fingers are entwined with yours. He is quiet for a moment and you feel your heart pick up in rhythm as you try to find something to fill the silence with, something that debunks that belief. However, just as you are about to say something, he speaks again, “But I would like this to be. I would like us to be forever.”

“Javi,” you finally say softly. 

He lifts his gaze to lock it onto yours. He looks at his most vulnerable, eyes brown and big as he waits for you to continue. You take just a moment too long and he is off again, suddenly very chatty.

“I know I haven’t asked you to marry me,” he says, “But I promise it’s coming. I just need to get it right.”

“You don’t have to talk about that right now. You know I love you and I know you love me too; I know it’s coming,” you say to reassure, pushing the idea of only letting him speak away because this topic is too big to stay silent on, “I’m not lying here with you because I want a ring on my finger, and I’m certainly not treating it like a condition for you to open up to me. I want to know you, Javier.”

“Thank you,” Javier looks grateful to hear that, saying nothing for a moment before looking at the ceiling again. He laughs softly, “You fucking terrified me, you know, the first time we sat down together.”

“I terrified you?” You furrow your brows, huffing out a laugh of disbelief.

“I pull my grief up to every table I share with a person I would like to have in my life, mi amor (my love). I was terrified the first time we were on a date,” he admits, “I kept thinking when you were going to ask about family… If I was close to my mother. I hated to imagine the way your smile and curiosity would drop but I don’t want to just focus on the way I want to remember her. You were so kind and thoughtful and damn bright-eyed - that was before I knew about your dad - and I didn’t want to share how I actually remember her because you might have not wanted to see me like that.”

“Javi,” you let go of his hand to put your palm against his cheek, turning his head towards you. You weigh your words, “I want to know everything about you. I want to know everything about her too. Especially if you’re gonna marry me.” 

“She was incredible, loved music, always honest even if it meant war, and read so many books that Pop had to build her bookcase after bookcase,” he tells you with a tremble in his voice and a tear that threatens to spill down his cheek even as he smiles in remembrance of her, “But as warm and loving as she was hard. Believe it or not, Pop used to be the softie of those two.”

“I can imagine,” you say fondly. You let your hand fall down to rest on his chest, palm laying just where his heart is. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen a woman so defiant in her ways but she grew up with a lot of expectations of how she should live her life,” he continues, “I think that hardened her a lot. I think it brought a lot of trouble too. She was so fiercely independent. She was fiercely protective of me and Dad too but sometimes even more of herself. I guess I know what it’s like to defend oneself from all the bullshit people give you.”

“Fiercely protective?” You tease, “Sounds like someone I know.”

“Yeah, I guess. Maybe I got that from her,” he admits with both pride and sadness. He puts a hand on your wrist, rubbing it with his thumb as a way to fidget, “That’s why it got so hard when she got sick because that defiance just crumbled. I was just a kid but I was old enough to see through the facade she put up every day. I was happy to eat takeout all the time - I was barely ten, so who wouldn’t be? - but I knew it was because she was too exhausted to cook. The music was too loud, the TV muted so she could sleep on the couch all the time or maybe it had the sound turned up all the way because she was throwing up in the bathroom.”

It seems he cannot stop himself now, hand tightening around your wrist and tears falling from his eyes, “She would look at Pop with a scared expression because she knew she had to leave him all alone with me. I don’t think we ever talked about that fact. I think I just realized it for myself one day.”

Your chest constricts at seeing him cry for the first time in your presence. You’ve seen him in the aftermath of it on the nights when Colombia creeps into his head as he sleeps, where he excuses himself to the bathroom and comes out a few minutes later with puffy eyes and a reddened nose. Seeing him now, upset like this, hits you harder than you thought it would and your heart aches as you listen to him talk about the loss of his life. 

It is years of bottled-up cruel pain and sorrow flowing out of him, so you follow your instincts and throw your arms around him even if his arm is still trapped between you. You hold him tightly and feel his reluctance for a millisecond before he allows himself to tremble in your embrace. 

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” you say softly, “You were just a little boy, and you had to watch your mom suffer. No one should have to go through that.”

Grief is a funny thing because as you close your eyes, feeling his shuddering breaths against your chest in the midst of his emotional motion sickness, you swear that it is not an adult Javier that you are hugging but rather the version of him that had to let go of his mother. 

When your muscles start to ache from squeezing him so hard, you pull back a little to stare into his tearful face, watching his eyes glisten. You wipe a tear away but it is just replaced by another. 

“I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to mess this up,” he says and you’re not sure if it’s him or the little boy in him that speaks. 

“You won’t,” you reassure him, your voice steady like a lifeline that he can hold onto, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

Javier sniffles with a hesitant smile. Like the instincts of a mother, you lift the hem of your shirt to wipe a few tears from his face. You lean close to kiss him afterward and then move to lie face-to-face with him, so close that your noses almost touch. Your voice is sincere, “I know she meant a lot to you and your dad, so thank you for telling me. It sounds like she was an amazing woman. I wish I could have met her.”

“She would have loved you,” Javier replies, “She had this way of seeing right through people, knowing if they were genuine or not. And you, you’re the most genuine person I’ve ever met.”

Despite the warmth outside, you feel a different kind flow through you at those words. You brush your lips against his in a tender kiss, “I need to make sure that I tell you that I love you even more when you are so open and gentle with me.” 

He looks tired now but it’s the tiredness that fills the body after relief, “I love you too.”

“I think you should get some sleep,” you say softly. 

“I’ve never talked to anyone about my mother like this before,” he adds, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You never have to find out,” you tell him and reach to rub a thumb between his eyebrows, “Close your eyes, baby.  I’ll stay awake until you’re asleep.”

He does as he is told and smiles until sleep takes over, his face relaxing, his mouth going slack, and his breaths slowing down. He is so beautiful like this, looking peaceful, looking like home.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[stxrrynightskies]

𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

°｡⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: k. kenma x reader

⋆｡° ✮ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: boyfriend headcanons for my first ever anime crush <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: i'll try to be more active from now on on this account! my inbox is open if you have anyone you would like me to write for!

♡ he was very straightforward when he confessed to you, although, it took him quite some time to actually blurt it out

♡ most date nights with him involve sitting on the couch or in his room with him and just enjoying each other's presence

♡ you make him want to put in as much effort as he can in the relationship

♡ he will never hesitate to compliment you whenever he can (which is pretty much everyday)

♡ his day gets better when he sees you, and his entire attitude changes (all of his teammates can see it)

♡ he likes it when you lay your head on him while he plays games

♡ would never tell you, but absolutely adores it when you play with his hair

♡ he'd let you dye parts of his hair any colour you want (within reason)

♡ always insists on paying for dates (and quite literally fights you to pay)

♡ always has the best stories to tell you about his team

♡ often insists on you to stay home when he has games because he doesn’t want to mess up in front of you (but he plays better when you watch)

♡ kuroo once asked you to walk with kenma to practice because he knows you're the only one who could ensure that he'd follow you, so it became a daily thing

♡ he will literally shoot the nastiest glare at anyone who tries to flirt with you

♡ not too big on pda, but doesn't mind the occasional hand-holding

♡ hugs > kisses (with the exception of forehead kisses)

♡ usually stays up pretty late but insists on you going to bed early

♡ on weekends, he'll think of fun things to do when it's late (baking, a trip to the convenience store, gaming, even just cuddling)

♡ sleepovers all the time

♡ and when you don't sleep over, you'll facetime until you fall asleep

♡ he likes noticing the small things about you that not many people notice (and he'll make sure you know that he knows)

♡ usually a dry texter, but when you guys have deep, late night chats, he's often the one who'll talk/text more

♡ sometimes feels bad for not being the best boyfriend he can be (or at least that what he thinks)

♡ he loves it when you wear his sweaters or t-shirts

♡ gets a little anxious when he's with you around your friends, but always agrees every time you invite him to go with you to hang outs

♡ enjoys laying his head on your lap a lot

♡ the two of you (mainly kenma) get teased a lot by his friends

♡ you would raise one of those digital pets together and he would bug you when you aren’t giving it enough attention

♡ pokes you or tugs at your clothes when he wants you to pay attention to him

♡ matching phone charms with him

♡ he always makes sure you’re hydrated and that you’ve eaten something proper everyday

♡ he’ll set for you if you ever want to practice hitting

♡ he lets you play with and style his hair when you’re bored while he’s gaming

♡ always tells you that claw machines are a scam, but he’d help you win a prize regardless (because for some reason, he pretty much always wins something)

♡ has been thinking about buying a promise ring for the two of you, but is afraid that it’ll be bad luck

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!

[squinch-depraved]

plllsssss write more for that virgin au i fell in love with it!! i would love to read about schlatt finding out about charlie by accident

ok here's how schlatt finds out about what went down between you and charlie, v short just to get us to the next part where our boy teddy gets to have some fun so stay tuned for that :3

charlie is just. unable to look schlatt in the eyes.

like, he feels so guilty.

even though he didn't technically do anything wrong, charlie feels horrible for breaking down and asking you to sleep with him

and he's got a few hickeys visible, despite his best efforts at covering them up

so ted's all, "ooh, someone got some this weekend!"

and he tries to get charlie to open up about it

but he just mumbles something about not wanting to talk about it and moves on

schlatt flags this as weird, but ted just shrugs and says charlie doesn't have to talk about it if he doesn't want to

but schlatt just can't move on from it.

charlie looks guilty.

he never looks guilty.

what did he do?

schlatt has to figure it out; he's got this feeling in his gut that something's wrong about the whole situation

but he just keeps studying, waiting to see if he can gather any extra information

and he does.

charlie makes the mistake of leaving his phone out, face up, when he goes to talk to a friend about something that happened in one of their classes

a text from you lights up the screen, and ted, sitting next to charlie, reads it first

for schlatt, the phone is upside down, so it takes him a minute

but once he processes your message, he's piecing it together in his mind and his blood runs hot

"'i'm not going to be the one to tell him. you're the one who begged for it, you have to explain to him what we did.'"

he repeats the message out loud once more and slams his books closed, shoving his things into his bag and furiously slinging it over his shoulder

"dude, you aren't even together, you can't control them," ted reasons, trying to salvage the hangout

charlie saunters back over, face falling once he checks his phone and sees schlatt towering over the table with a scowl on his face

"hope it was worth it, man," he mutters, voice laced with anger

"i- i didn't mean to hurt-"

"doesn't matter. i'll see you guys later," schlatt spits out, stalking away from the table and slamming through the library doors

it's silent for a bit before ted speaks

"he'll get over it. give him some time."

"...i hope so."

"he will, he just needs time to realize he doesn't have any say in what y/n does and he'll be over it like that."

ted snaps his fingers with the last word and receives a shhh from an attendant shelving books nearby

"maybe. he really likes them, though. i think i might have actually fucked up this time, ted. it was incredible, but i don't know if it was worth losing schlatt's friendship."

charlie runs a hand through his hair and blows out a frustrated exhale

"maybe he would be less mad if i slept with them too?" ted asks, more wondering aloud to himself than anything

"because then he would have to be mad at both of us," he says as he works through his thought

"and then you wouldn't feel as bad about being the only one to do it!"

charlie just stares at him for a bit

"are you fucking serious, dude? you're gonna make it that much worse?"

"look, man, if i sleep with her, and tell him, he'll be mad at me too, thus taking some of the blame off you. do you see what i'm getting at?"

"yes, dude, i see what you're getting at, but it's a shitty plan and he's just gonna kill both of us."

"...we shall see," ted answers with a sense of finality, grinning as he packs up his stuff

"i'll let you know how it goes." he smirks down at charlie one last time before pulling his phone out of his pocket to check it

"you're an idiot!" charlie whisper-yells as ted struts away

but ted just raises one hand, middle finger sticking up, and exits the library, determined to get in on the bliss that his best friends had experienced so he would no longer be the only virgin in the group

he's humiliated that he's the last one left, but a trip to your apartment will surely change that

so he takes a deep breath, adjusts his bag, and walks to the side of campus that your home's on, excited to see how this whole situation will unfold

[a66-1]

Whiskey. Neat, please.

Simon x Bartender!Afab!Reader

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 |

⚠️tw⚠️ cursing, weird guys. (warming up on this one ::)))

a/n: first time in a while writing something longer. (I, me, my, pronouns.) Bear with me please :) (d'ya get what the title hints at? No? okay.)

Fucking busy night. Christ, should've let Christy take this shift..

I wiped down the bar from whatever other nasty people have been putting their unwashed hands on it before more eventually ruin my efforts. It was barely 11pm and the bar was already fucking packed with men and women determined to forget the rest of their weekend in this dingey place. My boss made me take a shift for someone, and Christy politely offered to take it, and I stupidly declined.

I needed the money, for christs sake.

The speaker surrounding the top of the main drink bar in the middle of the bar started playing too sweet by hoizer, and I hummed softly in approval. I slung the towel over my shoulder, walking back behind the bar to start wiping down some glasses that have been way overdue.

My co-worker, Shelby, bumped my hip with hers. I glance over to her, a what the hell? look on my face. She giggled, and oogled her eyes over to a group of people presumably, but I didnt follow her gaze.

"I fuckin love that we get those.. Military men from time to time.. God, makes me take the night shifts just to feed my eyes," she gave another laugh, before going to pour a glass, noticing my uninterested response.

"Oh come on, girl, you're such a loner, you need to get yourself out there! Don't tell me that old dickwad is still trying to get in your pants again-"

I cut her off, scoffing, "Jesus, Shelby, shut up. I'm not interested in your weird taste in men." *I moved away from her, heading to another full sink. I slid the clean cups to the guys pouring drinks, huffing softly. Jesus, they need to actually staff this place..

I hear a seat slide back, and then shift forward. I tilted my head up, and I'm met with a weirdo, his chin resting on his palm, almost impatiently. I shift my stance taller, giving him a once over. I'm used to picking theses guys out from a crowed, incase he fucks with any girls here.

"Ya need a drink?" I offered, tapping the cup against the counter. He gave a slow, sideways smile under his mask.

"O' course. Made my mouth all dry with that bitter gaze you got on you." The guy snickered, before waving his hand once he noticed my unamused expression. "Kidding. Take a joke, darling."

I scoffed under my breath, and I learned my throat. "Whaddya want, sir?"

"I mean, honestly? You baby.. But drink wise... Maybe a whiskey, on the rocks." He gave me a weird smile. I poured the whiskey, and droped some ice in there, sliding it to him. He drank from it as I cleaned out more glasses, his eyes keen on me.

I tried to shift once more to another side of the bar, but the guy fuckin grabbed me. I pulled back, cursing at him..

And this big ass motherfucker comes out from God knows we're, and sits the guy down. He's got a Skull mask on, and clad with military gear.

"Sit." Was the only word that left his mouth. The guy huffed and pushed him off, cursing things at him. The skull masked guy turned to me, bowing his head slightly. I rolled my eyes hesitantly.

"Okay, Mr. Big ego who need to save poor women. I can handle myself-" The guy huffs to silence me.

"Was jus' helpin' lovie." He sat in the guys old seat, nodding his head towards me. "'M Ghost. Mind gettin' me a drink?"

I let my eyes examine this new guy, before nodding. "Uh.. I.. Yeah. I'll.. Grab you a.. Uh..?" I motioned for him to tell me. He smirked, and shrugged.

"Nothin' wild. I want y'to remember my order." He drummed his fingers for a moment before snapping, like he got some bright idea. "Whiskey. Neat, please."

(not proof read) thank you for reading! I'm working in the other parts, and this one might be longer maybe idk I'm tired.

-a661

[princelylove]

Thank you your highness for answering all my questions on ranking yandere Joestar and Jobros. This time, can I ask for the Jofoe too? I can't rank them myself because all of them are so dangerous, I seriously see all of them have equal rank.

I'd love to hear your opinion on this, please enlighten me with your knowledge my prince ~

~ 🏵️ anon ~

I just realized I forgot funny valentine. That's on me. Oops. I don't know, have you considered just... not being american? Super easy to avoid him just get on a boat and don't come back. Kidding, I'll write something serious for him later on. They're all bad, but a general easiest to hardest:

Doppio is a hard worker. He devotes a good chunk of his time to carrying out orders for the boss, he doesn’t really have time for a darling, but… Boss will allow him to have a crush. It’s a little treat. As long as Doppio keeps his distance, it’s harmless. He spends his weekends following his darling around- he asks Diavolo to look into you for a little reward. He does well on a couple of jobs in a row? Here’s your favorite color, and what you wear for pajamas most nights. Doppio has a lot of self control, he’s not going to cave just because you’re gorgeous and he has some free time. He’ll keep his distance until Diavolo gives him permission to engage- which he won’t be receiving any time soon. Doppio’s darling- I feel as if  “crush” is significantly more appropriate- likely won’t know that they have a secret admirer who already knows every little detail about their life until it’s time for Doppio to receive a proper present. Maybe for Christmas Diavolo will let him bump into you in the street. 

Yoshikage Kira is safe if he’s obsessed enough. He’s a bit impulsive with collecting his girlfriends, but he doesn’t like you for your hands. He likes you, as a whole. Ugh. That’s so annoying. He doesn’t want to have a real partner- do you know how much effort it is to have one of those and keep up his streak of roughly fifteen years of killing? He’s not going to just let his little habit go, but… maybe you’re fine with him having something on the side, to hold himself over. Maybe. He’d have to ask after pursuing you normally, and if you say no, or Kira decides not to ask at all since ‘hey that’s weird and we’re trying to be as normal as possible here’… well. He’s been lying this long. Might as well add another to the lie bin.  Since he wants to be as normal as possible, he doesn’t express any of his yandere tendencies until much later on- and he can be satiated if you play into his fetishes and preferences enough. 

DIO has matured a lot in his life, surprisingly. He’s not going to kill off his darling just because he’s in a mood. He’ll do it for a proper reason. You’ll have warnings. You’ll have easy, simple rules established very early on in knowing him. Really, are you trying to provoke him into punishing you? Simply ask if that’s what you want. He spoils you so, doesn’t he. DIO cares a lot about his darling actually wanting him- if he’s forcing it, it ruins the experience. He understands you need to have a proper relationship with him, complete devotion won’t happen in a day. Make no mistake, you will be his, he’s just fine going slowly. He’s certainly got the time for it, and it’s not like he’s holding you captive. No, no, never captive. Possibly if he snaps because you keep outright rejecting him and it’s really setting his abandonment issues off. He’ll just send a little toy to keep you company when you feel the need to go on a little outing. Vanilla Ice will hold your bags for you, or maybe Mariah can show you around. If neither of them are someone you want to socialize with, he has options. Lots of options. 

Enrico cares less about you having a choice. To him, he knows better, and is often frustrated with your judgement. Please listen to his advice- he’s only here to provide you with the resources you need to flourish. If Enrico has no problem talking to DIO as his equal, then he certainly has no problem telling his darling ‘no’ directly. He recommends passages in the bible to read that directly coincide with what’s going on in your life- You often find little handwritten notes in your cell on your desk. The first time it happened, there was a bible sitting on your bed, with a note being used as a bookmark. It was between the pages of Isaiah- stuck in the pages about sin and confessions. It makes you gag how neat and proper his handwriting is, “My doors are always open for you.” When you don’t come, he leaves another note, with a page and paragraph you’re supposed to read before whatever it is he has to say. If the slightly passive aggressive notes don’t reach you, perhaps a more personal approach is needed. 

Dio in his youth is… unstable. He hasn’t learned that patience is king. He knows what he wants, and he’s going to get it now. Denying him is the stupidest move you could possibly make, he has all of this newfound power and confidence and isn’t going to waste it by letting you just get away. You may scurry off if he frightens you too much, he does love the chase. He just can’t help himself when he catches you- you look good trapped under him, he needs a little reward. It’s not going to hurt, it’s just a small bite… Have fun with a chunk of your neck missing because little dio got excited and couldn’t help biting as hard as he could. 

Diavolo is a classic creep. He’s a bit repressed. Over a decade of restraint will do that to you, but Diavolo doesn’t realize that touching himself to the cameras he placed in your room and the places you frequent isn’t going to satisfy him entirely. Maybe Doppio can spell it out for him- he should indulge! Live a little! The last time he ‘lived a little’ he made the worst mistake someone in his position could possibly make, but hey. He was young, you can’t really fault him for that. Diavolo monitors you as if it’s part of his job- there’s absolutely nothing he doesn’t know about. Your other suitors are taken care of by la squadra esecuzioni, they have a bit of a running joke that they’re praying for you to get around a bit more, easy jobs are welcome when the boss works them like dogs. Diavolo is happy to watch you, he keeps a tab open of whatever you’re doing while he works. Indulges by having Doppio follow you on your errands, lightly suggesting he should record. You often receive expensive gifts from a ‘secret admirer,’ with typed notes attached. It’s only a matter of time until that isn’t enough to hold him over, and he sends someone to collect you. No, now that he’s thinking about it… No one will treat you as well as he would, it’s better not to leave you to the hands of someone just doing a job. Diavolo fully intends to love you, and won’t take a ‘no’ once he’s broken his streak of self control. 

Kars did not always want a mate. He’s not really the romantic type, or someone who clings to sentiment, but there’s just something so adorable about you. He loves life, although he normally isn’t fond of humans. He loves seeing the life in your eyes, the way your chest moves up and down in fear as he gets closer… He’s salivating at the thought. Kars tells himself he wants a pet at first- he already has a sizable family. He has a son figure, he has a… He’d call Santana a pet, really, he has someone his age to socialize with… He supposes he could use a mate. Kars hasn’t had one of those since he was just a little one, and it’s not really something he missed. When you express that you don’t want to bow down and give everything up for him, Kars is more than confused. You must be making a joke- he’s heard of humans telling obvious lies for humor. How amusing. Now, come when you’re called, or he’ll send Santana to retrieve you. He prompts you often, but you can tell he doesn’t really care about the answer. You bore him sometimes with your ‘Please don’t hurt me’ and your ‘Please, please, let me go’ nonsense, how could he be expected to always find it fun? Your resistance only amuses him when you do something about it. Good, you’re running. Kars would love to play chase with you. 

[rafesbby]

Right in Front of Me

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!kook!reader

Warnings: language, slight-cheating, kissing

Word Count: 1.0k+

Summary: Rafe and you have been best friends for as long as you can remember. What happens when one night he confesses his love for you?

A/N: Here's a simple one to get back into the swing of things. I'm gonna try and write more :)

----------

"Don't worry, if it's going horribly just text me and I'll save you." You chuckle as you watch Rafe, your best friend, get ready for his date.

"Can you save me even if it's going good?" Rafe replies, shooting you a smirk.

"No, tonight's a very important night for you. If this goes well, your days as a third wheel to me and Topper are over." You smile at him while you help adjust his tie.

Rafe and his date were going to River's Edge, a well-known and fancy restaurant that was popular amongst the kooks. You had suggested it when he said he had a date and he agreed.

"I regret saying yes to all of this." Rafe grimaces. "I'm putting way too much effort into it."

"Well, I think Nora will appreciate it." You look Rafe up and down. "She's one lucky girl."

"Yeah yeah, whatever." Rafe rolls his eyes. "Don't forget to save me later."

----------

It was around 8:30pm when your phone went off, no doubt that it was Rafe. You set down the book you were reading and grab your phone. Rafe's name along with a brief message was visible.

Rafe- save me

Y/n- that bad?

Rafe- save me now

Rafe- please

Y/n- okay I got you

You can't help but giggle as you dial Rafe's number. You really weren't expecting to have to rescue him this early, the date had only been going for an hour. When Rafe picks up you can hear a relieved exhale.

"Hey, Rafe. I know you're super busy right now, but I really need you to come home." You say jokingly.

"Shit, I'm actually in the middle of something. Will you be okay by yourself?" Rafe's acting sounds so believable you can't help but roll your eyes.

"No, I'm afraid I really need you." You can hear Rafe apologize and his chair scoot across the floor.

"Okay, I'll be right there." Rafe says rushed as he hangs up immediately.

----------

Fifteen minutes later Rafe is sitting on your bed spilling all the details about his unsuccessful date.

"Poor Rafe." You climb behind him on the bed and start rubbing his shoulders. "I'm sorry tonight was so weird. I thought she would be a good one." You frown.

Rafe's back leans into you as you continue his massage. From this angle you can see the soft smile on his lips and his closed eye lids.

"There are no good ones." Rafe groans. "The only good one is taken."

Your hands pause on his shoulders. His eyes open and glance up at you.

"What do you mean?" You ask. The mood in the room quickly shifts and Rafe sits up.

"Y/n...I'm tired of these stupid fucking dates every weekend when the girl I really want is right in front of me." Rafe turns around so he's facing you.

"Rafe, you know I'm with Topper. You know I would never do anything to hurt him." A panic swallows you whole.

"I'm not asking you to. I just want to know if you feel it too." Rafe brings his hand up to your cheek.

"Of course I do, Rafe. But that doesn't mean I don't love Topper, because I do." Rafe's hand drops away from your face and he looks away.

"Do you really think you belong with him?" Rafe's tone starts to sound angry. "You guys are horrible for each other."

"Rafe, where is this coming from?"

"I love you, Y/n. And I'm not going to apologize for it." When Rafe stands up, so do you.

He's waiting for you to say something. But you don't know what to say in this moment. You and Topper have been dating for almost two years. But you couldn't deny the attraction and feelings you felt towards Rafe.

Rafe reaches up and tucks a strand of your fallen hair behind your ear.

"Please say something. Anything. I just want to know what you're thinking." Both of Rafe's hands are cupped around your face, forcing you to look at him.

"I love you too." As soon as the words leave your mouth, you close your eyes. You hear Rafe's sigh of relief and then feel his forehead against your own.

"Y/n, thank fucking God. I don't know what I would have done if I didn't hear you say that." His thumbs sweep back and forth against your cheeks, his forehead still connected with yours, and his lips so close you could feel his breath.

A few seconds later and you feel Rafe's lips softly reach your own. He's gentle at first, almost hesitant as if to see if you would push away and resist. But you don't. You couldn't. You secretly have been waiting for this moment for years. The kiss becomes more fervent, more needy. Rafe's tongue meets yours and you get lost in the feel of his mouth on yours.

Your hands reach up to tug at his hair while Rafe's start to travel down your body. When he reaches the top of your shorts and begins to pull down, you step away.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this." Topper's face appears in your head. The guilt going straight to your stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Hey, it's okay." Rafe pulls you back in, wrapping his arms around your body. "I get it." He gives you a reassuring smile.

"Thank you for understanding." You rest your head on his chest, breathing in his sweet, intoxicating scent. Rafe kisses your forehead before picking you up and placing you on your bed.

"I should go. You need rest." Rafe begins to leave but in this moment all you want is his company.

"Rafe?" He stops and looks at you, his eyebrow raised in question as you continue. "Will you stay with me tonight?"

He smiles and shakes his head before making his way back and throwing himself on the bed.

"You don't have to ask me twice."

You reach up and switch the lamp off. Then you scoot closer to Rafe so you guys are facing each other.

"Thank you, Rafe." You kiss him one final time before snuggling into his neck. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, my love." His finger rubs gentle circles on your arm as you drift off to sleep. "I love you so much."

You fall asleep with a guilty smile on your face.

[starlightsuffered]

Snow Storms and Guessing Games

Pairing - Regulus Black/fem!reader

Warnings - smut, cockwarming, oral male and female receiving, mentions of masturbation, unprotected sex, friends to lovers

A/N - this was unexpectedly super fun to write for personal reasons. I am AFAB but identify as genderfluid so writing from a male perspective gave me a thrill. I hope you enjoy. Sorry about the format I'm on mobile.

"Hey there Mr. Black," she said plopping down across from me at The Three Broomsticks. She had no idea how beautiful she was as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and ordered from Rosmerta. My grip on my butter beer became tighter when I noticed her eyelashes were adorably flecked with snowflakes.

"So, I'll show you mine if you show me yours," she said wiggling her eyebrows before bursting into laughter at my expression. Being in love with your best friend was hard when she was never opposed to making dirty jokes, not to mention how carelessly touchy she could be.

Last week when I'd asked Y/N what we were doing in Hogsmede this weekend, since we always went together, she'd blushed. She told me Peter Pettigrew had asked her out and she'd said yes. I had wanted to throw something against the wall. Once again my stupid brother and his stupid friends were trying to steal something away from me. I had immediately scrambled to get a date so I wouldn't look so pitiful to her. I'd asked out Amelia Bones who had been mad for me since fifth year. It hadn't been hard to get a yes. Y/N and I agreed we would meet up later to compare notes and hang out as we usually did. I had been miserable on the date, as pretty and interesting as Amelia was, no one was Y/N.

"You go first," I said, taking a sip of butter beer wishing I was old enough to purchase fire whisky so I didn't have to be sober while hearing about this.

"He was as skittish as a rat," Y/N chuckled. "Which is kinda sweet I suppose."

"But," I smirked. I knew her well enough to know that 'but' was coming.

"He just isn't my type," she sighed. "I like confidence, and,"

"Quidditch players," I finished for her with a chuckle. It always took a concentrated amount of effort to not remind her that I was a Quidditch player when she said that.

"You know me too well Black," she said. She stretched and yawned, her chest was being pushed out as she bent back. It was hard to concentrate.

"It's a bit warm," she commented and took off her large winter coat. Underneath, she was wearing a sparkling dark blue velvet top that was very low cut. I nearly choked on my drink when I saw it. I now envied Pettigrew even more, he'd gotten to walk around with her in that.

I cleared my throat awkwardly, trying to act like I hadn't been staring. My grip on my mug was white knuckled. Could she really be so blind? Did she truly not know what she was doing to me?

"Reg?" She called, her voice finally breathing through my thoughts.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I said how did it go with Amelia?" She asked as she fiddled with a necklace I'd gotten her for Christmas the year prior.

"Well, she didn't seem to like me very much once we actually went out."

Her laugh rang out like bells, making me smile as well.

"Did you go into typical Black brooding mode?" She asked.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"When you have a lot on your mind you get this look on your face."

"What kind of look?" I questioned.

"The best way to describe it is like a storm cloud became a human," she chuckled.

"That's harsh," I grinned.

"I'm just being honest my dear friend. Sirius does it too you know. If I didn't know you so well I wouldn't go near you when you have that face, I don't blame Amelia for being apprehensive."

"You're so kind to me," I stuck my tongue out at her and she returned the gesture. Oh the things I wished she'd do with that tongue. No, Regulus, focus, she'll definitely notice if you get a hard on, she knows you too well.

"So, who is next on your hit list?" I asked. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm not a praying mantis, I don't decapitate my mate."

"My bet is on Potter, you'll probably try to work your way through all the Marauders for bonus points."

"Don't be daft, Potter is so stuck on Evans he probably doesn't know I exist."

"Remus then," I suggested, wishing she'd tell me that it was only me she wanted.

"He's nice," she mused.

"Just not my brother."

"Oh La La, Sirius Black," she taunted. "He's got good hair, definitely has confidence. He doesn't play Quidditch, but maybe a few bedroom favors could convince him."

She was joking, I knew she was joking to bother me, but I felt sick to my stomach. The images she'd just put in my head weren't going to go away soon. I knew I'd be tossing and turning in my dorm tonight trying not to think about what she'd said.

"Actually, I do have my eye on someone," she said and for once she looked nervous. "I've had my eye on them for a while, but I don't think they'd like me."

"I don't see how they couldn't," I responded after gulping down my disappointment. "You're so-"

"Did you guys hear?" Suddenly Evan Rosier was skidding in front of our table.

"What?" Y/N asked.

"Potter and Black, got into another duel with Snape and Mulciber. Mulciber, the idiot, tried to blast ice and snow into Potter's chest but he missed and it must've hit a cloud or something because there's a huge blizzard. McGonagall is here and she said students should go to one of the inns and wait out the storm. She said Hogwarts is paying for all the students lodgings until it's safe to go back to the castle."

"Of course," I ran my hand down my face.

"Fuck, come on Reg," she said, getting her coat.

"Me?" I nearly squeaked.

"Yeah, come on," she held out her hand. "Before it gets too bad."

It ended up already being bad. The snow was so thick we could barely see in front of us. Good thing an inn was right next to the Three Broomsticks. Y/N clung to me the entire way over and I relished the way her fingers dug into my skin. I wished it were my back as I pounded into her, showing her how much she belonged with me and not whoever she was fantasizing about.

"Two from Hogwarts," she said at the cashier. The man's eyes drifted slowly to me. Y/N knew that I wasn't naturally confrontational, but it seemed people always thought of me that way. The name of Black carried a lot of weight, and some of that weight could be deadly.

"Oh Mr. Black no worries, I'll get you the finest room."

"It is really no problem, you must have many guests pouring in from Hogwarts." I tried to be nonchalant, but it irked me when people acted this way.

"No, no good sir, you and your friend shall have the best we can offer," he gave a toothy grin and handed me a slip of paper. On it was the password for the door.

"Thank you," I bowed slightly, and pulled her along.

"Fickle Feather," I said to the door once we'd reached the correctly numbered room.

Y/N opened the door to the room and her mouth dropped open. Everything was gilded, gold seemed to cover every surface. Almost every piece looked like it would empty out a normal wizard's Gringotts account. Of course, I was used to such lavishness, but Y/N came from a small town muggle family.

"So this is what the name Black does," she said in awe.

"I'd give it all up just to have you," I thought to myself just as I noticed a problem. The bed, singular, as in just one bed.

"Um, I can take the couch," I gestured lamely at the golden couch that did not look at all comfortable. Stupid rich wizards always choosing looks over comfort.

"Oh," Y/N was actually blushing, a sight that was rare to see.

"No, no Regulus, I can take the couch. We may not even need to stay overnight here."

"No way am I making you take the couch," I said folding my arms.

"Oh stop being so chivalrous," she rolled her eyes.

"I don't care what you say, I'm not letting you take the couch."

We stared at one another for a long moment. Eventually my curated Black glare won out. She shrugged her shoulders, but what she said next took me off guard.

"Guess we're sharing then huh."

"What?" I gasped.

"We're sharing if you want to be so difficult. The bed is the size of like four of the beds in the dorms anyway."

She ran over to the bed before I could respond and began jumping on it, giggling.

"Come on Reg!" She demanded. I sighed, knowing I'd literally do anything for this girl. I stepped up onto the bed and she immediately grabbed my hands. She urged me to jump with her.

"If you like this, you should let me take you on a broom ride," I offered.

"Sure Reggie," she said, smile growing and my heart was soaring. I was so focused on her I lost my footing. We tumbled down, and I was smart enough to turn us so that she landed on me.

"Sorry," I huffed.

"No problem," she cocked her head to the side, not moving.

"Bet Pettigrew wishes he were me right now," I chuckled. In reality I was breathless, trying my best not to give into temptation and wrap my arms around her.

"Oh hush," she rolled her eyes and got up. She adjusted her top and I had to force myself not to look again.

"Regulus," she said suddenly as I was running my hands through my hair to fix it.

"Yeah?" I asked turning to her, and felt the breath leave lungs from the way she was staring at me.

"Has anyone ever told you, you're really pretty," she was moving closer and my whole body felt like it was buzzing.

"Only you, several times," I gulped. She did tell me often, but it never ceased to make me feel like I was flying.

"Well you are, and there's no one I'd rather be stuck in a snowstorm with," she beamed.

"You're going to be the death of me," I thought to myself.

"Regulus, can you finish what you were going to say at the Three Broomsticks?" She asked in a near whisper.

"What was I saying?"

"You said you didn't see how my crush couldn't like me because I'm so, but we got interrupted."

"Oh," I cleared my throat awkwardly. "I mean, there's many ways I could end that sentence. You're so kind, you're so brave and loyal and smart."

"Yeah?" She was biting her lip, hope filling her lovely eyes.

"And you're very um...," I trailed off scratching the back of my neck awkwardly. "Let's just say you aren't hard to look at."

"Aww Reggie, are you saying I'm pretty?"

I felt a blush creep up my face, and I couldn't meet her eyes.

"Is that weird?"

"No, I just called you pretty," she reasoned.

"Yeah but you always give people compliments, I'm awkward with my words."

"Well I think you're great," she beamed at me and it took all I had to not pull her into a kiss.

"Who is it?" I blurted without thinking. I mentally cursed myself but it was eating away at me.

"Who is who?" She hedged but I could see she knew what I meant.

"The person you think you're not good enough for?"

"I don't wanna say," she looked away.

"Why? Is it embarrassing?"

"A bit yeah," she crinkled her nose.

"How about this, we'll play 20 questions and see if I can guess it."

"How does that benefit me?" she quipped. I thought for a moment of how I could convince her. My self deprecating mind was having trouble coming up with anything she'd want that I could give. That's when I remembered something I had in spades. Money.

"I'll buy you five books at the store," I offered quickly.

"Whichever ones I want?" She lit up like a firecracker at my suggestion. I nodded.

"Okay fine, guess," she folded her arms.

"Sirius," I hated myself for asking but I had to know. It was the one that would hurt the most.

"Nope," she popped the P and something in my chest loosened.

"Are they in our year?" He asked.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"So, not James then," I mused and she rolled her eyes.

"I told you already it wasn't James."

"Are they in Gryffindor?" I asked, it was likely since it was her house.

"No."

"Hufflepuff?"

"Wrong again."

"Ravenclaw?" I knew this had to be it.

"You have fifteen more questions loser," she said nudging me.

"No way, Y/N, no way they're in Slytherin," I gawked at her, the majority of my house were assholes.

"Is that a question?" She countered.

"Is it a muggle?" I asked curiously, still not ready to believe her crush was in Slytherin.

"Very much not a muggle," she chuckled.

"Oh fuck it, are they in Slytherin?"

"Yes."

I was wracking my brain now for any boy in our year that it could be.

"Please tell me it isn't Evan Rosier," I begged.

"No, not him," she smiled, knowing she was winning. "You're honestly getting colder as you go."

"I just can't..." I was floundering. I genuinely couldn't think of who it could be.

"You really don't know do you?" She asked.

"I give up, I'll buy you your books because I can't think of who it could be."

"Use your brain," she challenged now, seemingly changing her mind about wanting me to know.

"Avery?" I tried weakly though I'd hardly ever seen the two interact.

"Ugh," she threw her head into her hands dramatically.

"I'll take that as a no?"

"Yes! take it as a no. You're so stupid," she moaned from her hunched position.

"Ouch," I joked although it had hurt a bit.

"You idiot, you're going to make me say it," she said raising her head, her cheeks were flaming red.

"I guess so," I said in confusion. Why was she so mad.

"It's you, dummy."

My world stopped spinning. Had I imagined what she'd said? No she was looking at me intently, waiting for a response.

"M-Me?" It was all I could say.

"Yes, you," she responded looking as though she might cry.

"Me, Regulus Black?"

"Yes," she said in a sob. "This was such a bad idea, you're so weirded out." She was truly crying now, tears slipping down her cheeks with embarrassment.

"No, no!" I was such a fool, why hadn't I spoken up sooner?

"I'm sorry love, don't cry. I thought I was hearing you wrong is all," I told her, taking her hands away from her face.

"What does that mean?" She asked. "What do you feel?"

"I've been in love with you ever since you hexed Snape for saying I looked like a dementor."

"You have?"

I nodded, wiping the tears from her face. She smiled under my touch.

"I think I fell in love with you when you opened up to me about how much you missed Sirius at home."

"Really, not when I caught the snitch in the first ten minutes of the game that one time," I joked.

"No," she smirked. "But that is the first time I realized I wanted to fuck you."

My heart dropped into my stomach and my mouth went dry. She was always bold but this was a whole new level. She was never hotter than when she was pushing the boundaries.

"Regulus Black, I'm going to kiss you now," she said, eyes flicking to my lips.

"Please," I breathed and her lips were on mine. She was talented, lips expertly fitting into mine, her hands on my chest. Her touch ignited me. Just her lips had me needy and wanting.

She wound her fingers into my hair, pulling lightly. I couldn't help the whine that left my mouth. She began to kiss down my neck and I could barely catch my breath. She took my hands that were placed lightly on her back and guided them to her breasts.

"C-Can I?" I breathed, although she'd put them there.

"Please touch me Regulus."

That was all I needed. My hands were slipping up her top, feeling the skin of her breasts. She pulled my mouth back to hers, the kiss becoming more breathless and heated. Suddenly, she pushed my hands away and stripped off her top. My eyes were bulging out of my head as she reached for the hem of my shirt. I didn't resist as she pulled it off.

"You're amazing," I gasped, so taken with her boldness.

"Come here," she said, but ignored her own plea and straddled me.

"You are everything," I panted as she kissed all over my face while she pulled my hair.

"No," she replied. "You are, you don't even know what you do to me."

"Tell me," I begged, I needed to know if she was as addicted to me as I was to her.

"Touch me while I tell you," she demanded and I shuddered. My hand went to the clasp of her bra. Her breasts fell heavily as I threw her bra into the corner.

"Do you know how many times I've wanted to tackle you on the Quidditch field when you're all sweaty and cocky in your robes. I want to make out with you in front of the whole school so they know how sexy you are."

I tentatively touched her nipples that were peaked. She moaned, and arched into my touch.

"All the times I've looked at your lips and wanted to kiss them, or suck them, or bite them."

"You should have," I whispered as I got more confident with my hands. I was pinching and rolling her nipples between my fingers.

"You don't even know how many times I've wanted to pull you into an empty classroom and get on my knees for you."

"Fuck," I moaned, my cock so hard it was throbbing. I leaned down to suck lightly on the hardened buds.

"Shit, Reg," she whimpered. "Imagine it Regulus, how many times I've woken up from a dream about you and my panties were soaked."

I could barely stand her words and the images they put in my head. My moans vibrated against her skin. She ground down on me and I nearly choked.

"I had to use my stupid fingers and pretend it was your hand, or your tongue, or your cock."

"I'm going to help you with that," I said as I popped off her breast, leaving wet circles in my wake. In seconds I had her on her back. I kissed down her body until she was right above her heat. I pulled down her panties with my teeth, and couldn't resist touching her with my fingers.

"Reg," she arched up as I pressed a finger into her.

"You're so wet," I shuddered with need.

"For you, all for you, only for you," she promised.

I began to move my finger in and out of her and her moans sounded like music. She was bucking upward, trying to ride my hand, and it was one of the most beautiful sights I'd ever seen.

I removed my finger, feeling an overwhelming desire to taste her. I dove in and was rewarded by her curses. She grabbed my hair, making me groan into her. My name and profanities were the only words on her lips as I lapped at her.

"I'm going to cum, please don't stop," she begged and I continued my assault gladly. She made the most erotic sound I'd ever heard when she came, her thighs clamping around my head.

"That was so good," she panted, sitting up. Her hands were immediately on my crotch.

"You're so hard," she whined and I felt dizzy with need for her. She pulled down my boxers and I watched as her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

"Regulus," she moaned out my name making it longer than usual.

"What?" I asked with concern.

"You're so fucking big baby," she complimented, and I swear I felt my chest swell. "Why didn't you tell me that's what you were packing?" She asked and I could nearly see her salivating.

"Not really a common friendly conversation topic," I joked.

"Sorry, I'll do the best I can," she said and I was confused about her meaning until she dove down, taking my cock in her mouth. I nearly screamed. She was right, she couldn't fit all of me down her throat but what she couldn't fit she worked with her hand.

I was in heaven. She took me so well I couldn't even describe it. Her mouth was causing wave after wave of bliss to wash over me. Not even winning the house cup felt this satisfying.

"Stop, stop," I begged. She popped off of me, my cock covered in saliva, her eyes slightly teary from gagging.

"What, are you okay?"

"I'm more than okay, I was so close, but I want to cum inside you angel."

"You say the most beautiful things," she sighed as she situated herself on the bed.

I hovered overtop of her. I couldn't help but stop and appreciate the moment. This was all I had wanted. She seemed to understand because she reached up to stroke my cheek and give me a chaste kiss.

I lined myself up with her and rolled my hips forward to sheath myself in her. We moaned in tandem. I began to thrust, and I watched in wonder as I disappeared inside her. How many times had I pictured this? How was it possible that it was better than my imagination.

"Regulus," she was gasping as I plunged into her, her nails were in fact clawing up my back just as I had wished earlier. I felt my chest swell with pride that I could make her come undone like this.

I attached my lips to her neck, needing to mark her as mine. She moaned as I suckled. Her legs came up to lock around my waist as I thrust, trying to get me closer.

"I need to stop," I groaned into her neck.

"Why?" She whined.

"I'm not going to last," I admitted. Her sounds, her breasts, her tight wet heat, it was all too much.

"I don't care, fill me Regulus. We can fuck all weekend for all I care, but I don't want you to pull out, I need you inside me."

Her words were all it took, one more thrust and I was gone, cumming inside her. She came from the sensation, her walls clenching deliciously around my cock. It was pleasure in its purest form.

"Fuck, don't pull out," she begged. "I've wanted to be close to you for so long, so please, don't leave me now."

I obliged her request happily, pulling her close to me. She was bright with the afterglow of sex. She was looking at me like I was a god among men and it took me a moment to stop tears from welling in my eyes. I wasn't used to looks of love of adoration. I was used to scathing glances, to sneers and insults. This is why I knew she was it for me, there would never be anyone else but her.

[flyingwargle]

countdown to origami hearts: 5 days!

it's just like every other day, but a package nestled deep in osamu's bag dictates otherwise.

he follows suna down the hallway and into his dorm room, kicking his shoes off after his friend. the lights switch on, and osamu is greeted by the multitude of paper cranes that crowd the windowsill and desk, to the point that suna does his work on the floor.

they fold their blazers on top of their bags and pull their notebooks and textbooks out. the faintest crinkle of plastic makes osamu freeze, and suna shoots him a look. he tries to be nonchalant, but... "hey, ya mind if we do somethin' first?"

"what?"

osamu retrieves the package, plastic rustling as he removes his spool of thread, pack of beads, and sewing needles. "i brought stuff ta string up yer cranes, if ya want." when he first saw suna fold them, he thought it was out of boredom, something to occupy him. he knows that isn't the case, that the truth is much more complex.

his friend stares at him, eyes widening with every blink. he pinches the thread between his fingers to examine, releases a staggered breath. "osamu, you really..."

he doesn't finish the sentence, simply shakes his head with a tiny smile. "sure. it beats doing math."

while he gathers his cranes, osamu opens the packages and threads a needle. "i watched a video how on this," he tells him. "it works best if all the cranes are the same size."

"well, that's too bad." suna gestures at his collection, cranes folded from actual origami paper, pages ripped from his notebook, and other handouts. "i guess i finally have a reason to toss the uglier ones."

they eventually fall into a rhythm, with suna picking which cranes to keep, and osamu poking them with his needle to pull the thread through, using a bead as a buffer between each crane. "d'ya remember when ya folded each crane?" he asks.

"not really. i think the uglier it is, the more anxious i was feeling." suna wrinkles his nose at one of them, folded from a paper towel. "i'm not keeping this."

most of the cranes that suna passes him are plain, but a few have writing on it. osamu can't help but read it. "ya used yer science notes?"

"i was...really stressed." he leans over for a closer look, a flicker of hurt crossing his face. "i think i used it after i came back from visiting home. i ran out of paper, but i still..."

he goes back to weeding, and osamu says nothing else, just pokes a hole and guides the needle through.

when he's threaded ten, he ends the first stream and stands, arm raised to show them off. "where d'ya want 'em?"

suna looks around. "maybe...in the corner by the window? i'll bring the chair over."

osamu uses a dozen strips of tape to reinforce it, then steps down to examine his handiwork. the cranes unknowingly alternate between colored origami paper and notebook paper, an intricate web of anxiety and art. he glances at suna, whose gaze is unreadable. "i have more," is all he says. "we can probably make two more streams."

they sit back down, and osamu puts more effort in the pattern. "why cranes?"

"my mom taught me." suna meticulously unfolds each crane before adding the sheet to his recycling bin. "at first, i just did it for fun, but somehow...it became more than that." he hands him a crane, another folded from his science notes. "riri is trying to fold a thousand. i told her that i'll help."

"an' yer just casually throwin' 'em out."

"i think the gods will accept it. i haven't used my desk in weeks." he holds a crane with delicate fingers. osamu watches him place it aside. "is that ten?"

the second stream is taped beside the first, and osamu prepares thread for the third. there aren't many cranes left.

in the end, they're missing two. suna doesn't hesitate to grab his pack of origami paper, and retrieves a sheet of green. he passes it to osamu, who picks gray. "my aunt wants me to visit over the weekend."

"you'll miss the send-off barbecue."

"yeah. i don't want to, but she said it's important. well, she said that last time and..." he shakes his head. "we don't have practice, at least."

osamu catches his eye. "i can come with ya, if ya'd like." the words fall spontaneously from his mouth a surprise for both of them. suna stares at him before lowering his gaze.

"aren't you in charge of cooking for the barbecue?"

"yeah, but that's not as important as makin' sure yer safe when ya visit. wouldn't want yer dad ta start somethin'."

"he won't be there." relief lightens his tone. "i asked. my aunt said he won't."

"that's good."

suna finishes his crane first, but osamu struggles to remember the last few steps. his friend guides him, points out where to fold and how to pull the wings out. at last, he threads the last two cranes and tapes the third stream to the ceiling.

he sits back down to admire them, can't help but steal a glance at suna, who watches them with an unrecognizable glint in his eye. he toys with a crane, eventually stands to place it back on his nightstand, where another resides. osamu asks, "d'ya remember where those cranes are from?"

"these are the first cranes that i folded with my sister, over a year ago now. i brought them as a reminder of what i have to do." suna turns away, retrieving their homework. "let's get this over with."

the night ends when he walks osamu out. "see ya tomorrow," he says with a wave.

"yeah." suna is about to close the door when he hesitates. "hey, osamu?"

he glances back at him, notices the faint blush in his cheeks, his shy eyes. then, in a quiet voice, "thank you."

[poke-entomology]

A Tentacool Story

Okay, chap 3 incoming. Last one for the week, I've got a dnd game tomorrow and then I'll get back to writing over the weekend. It's coming kinda slow, so I won't ask for reviews just yet. But starting chapter 4, the action should start ramping up a little.

Chapter 3: Cool water

*splash*

'It feels so good to be out of the heat. Something about that red light just... actually, it didn't hurt that much, but it gave me a wicked fever! Sure it was dusty in that old tomb, but I've never felt that thirsty in my life! Like my lungs were on fire!

Glad that's behind me now, ah, even the sun can't reach me down here. So cool... wait, SHIT! I NEED TO BREATHE!'

The man struggled and thrashed in the water uselessly. After minutes of trying, he finally held still and slowly, with great effort, put his two legs together and pushed off of the lake bottom.

*float... sink*

Again.

*float, sink, float, sink*

Again and again.

*float, sink, float, sink, float*

Finally finding a good rhythm, his head breached the water's surface. Lifting his head up felt unnaturally heavy, but not painfully so. It was possible to get his eyes above the water at least, but his head felt like jelly, sloshing and pulling back towards the water.

Forcing himself up as high as his body would go, he beheld the edge of the lake and slowly made his way across... His body made a wet slapping sound as he finally reached the bank.

"Ugh, professor? Need some help here. I think I got cursed by something... the Ruins of Alphabet soup curse." He spoke, sputtering up water with each syllable.

'Hell, that old man is probably getting high off powdered mummies again, or whatever it is rich guys do to pass the time.'

Breathing wasn't as much of a chore now as it was moments ago, but the man still felt an odd desire to return to the water once more. Taking one last look towards the ruins, he turned to see himself for the first time.

A blubbery looking Tentacool stared back as the weight of his head sent him crashing into the reflection and back to the cool depths.

[duhragonball]

Other Months

You know, I was sort of hoping that by now, there would be some sort of course correction from Nanowrimo. I mean, the backlash seems pretty substantial. I keep looking for updates on the situation, and I keep expecting Nano to issue some weak apology, or at least acknowledge the outcry. But instead, I just find news articles about the backlash, or sponsors pulling out because they can see which way the wind is blowing.

And I'm not entirely surprised, but I guess I thought the people running that organization were a little more savvy than this. Then again, all these pro-AI types only seem to know how to double-down, so I guess Nanowrimo has already demonstrated the depths of their incompetence. If they were smart enough try to clean up this mess they never would have issued that statement in the first place.

So I probably gave them too much credit, but... I mean, what other reaction could they have expected? Their whole deal depends on large numbers of human writers coming together to do this challenge every year. By refusing to condemn AI, they basically said that the efforts of the human writers are extraneous, when it's very much the other way around. The Nanowrimo organization thinks it's too big to fail, but without the writers' participation, they're nothing. Even if their sponsors are paying big bucks for AI promotion, it won't do any good if there's no one around to sell the products to. This seems blindingly obvious, but apparently Nanowrimo can't figure it out.

Anyway, enough about them. I'm planning to proceed on schedule from November 1-30, but I started thinking about what to do in the future. The rest of the world may settle on some agreed-upon "official month" to do the 50k challenge, but I'm more interested in picking something that works best for me. I'll run through some options under the cut.

NOVEMBER

Pro: Traditional. I'm familiar with this thrity-day span, so why rock the boat?

Con: The Thanksgiving four-day weekend is a pain in the ass to plan around. Also my mom's birthday is in November, and I usually drive to her place and take her out to lunch, so that's another day where I schedule minimal writing. Oh, and AEW runs the Full Gear PPV, and the NJPW World Tag League starts up in November, so it's actually kind of busy. My normal strategy is to try to get as big a lead as possible in the first week in order to finish well before all this other stuff can slow me down.

DECEMBER

Pro: None. This would suck.

Con: This would just be a harder version of November, since Christmas always falls on a different day of the week.

JANUARY/FEBRUARY

Pro: There's not much happening in these months, and I usually schedule some days off from work here just so I might miss a few lousy commutes in cold weather. February's only 28 days, but I've finished so many past 50k challenges early that it probably doesn't matter anymore.

Con: I've tried to do "Janwum" challenges in the past, but it's tough to get into gear so soon after completing one in November. I kind of had this vision of doing four writing months every year, but the non-November ones were always tough. Maybe January 2026 would be better if I didn't do any writing for November 2025. So that would push me towards...

MARCH-SEPTEMBER

Pro: I dunno.

Con: I feel like a lot of stuff happens during these months, which makes it difficult to make solid plans. Then again, this is probably just because I've devoted so much planning to making sure Novembers are as clear as I can make them.

OCTOBER

Pro: It's like November, but sooner. Fewer holidays, wrestling shows, and so forth.

Con: That's when OC-tober happens, and I really would like to keep doing that in October if I can. True, I've only done the challenge once in 2021, but I want to get back to it, so I need to start re-evaluating my priorities.

OCTOBER 20-NOVEMBER 18

Pro: This would mostly eliminate my problems with November. I always get a little anxious to start in the last week of October, so maybe I should just go ahead and start early.

Con: Well, the OC-tober stuff would still be a conflict, if nothing else.

I'm not sure I've come to any strong conclusions here, except that I might want to do these in January, but I need to schedule 2025's challenge for the middle of the year. Like... June-ish? Well, that would get it out of the way in time for the G1 Climax. Huh.

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

I just need to rant about my boyfriend so you can ignore this cause it's gonna be long

he's not a bad guy. he's not a bad boyfriend. I know he has a kind heart.

but COME ON.

I feel like I'm the crazy one here.

we talked last weekend and I gave him a whole spiel I typed out. I told him that I spent a lot of time and effort and mental/emotional energy to write out this long thing. When I finished, he was kind. he was understanding and receptive. But I told him that his understanding / openness doesn’t do anything for me unless he shows me with his actions that he actually listened.

So then last Sunday he came over and laid on my couch for a while while I studied. When we were gonna leave for dinner, he left the throw pillows from my couch on the ground. Just like always. Just like I've asked him not to do. Is it a massive deal? no. but literally just put them back! how hard is that?? So then I brought it to his attention and he was like “oh! wait! :) no! I’m not done yet!! :) I didn't forget!! :)” and he put them back. he was trying to be all cheeky and jokey but I didn’t find it funny bc its something that I have told him about a million times. Yeah, its small but like, just put the fucking pillows back where the belong? don't leave my things on the floor? It's simple. it's common sense- it should be second fucking nature.

He is THIRTY SEVEN! he should know better.

so I was annoyed at him for the rest of that night lol. And we had to have another talk that evening. It was kind of productive and made me feel better- but that's always how it goes. Every time we have these talks (which is often) I feel better after. But it never sticks. I'm not a confrontational person, so bringing up these kinds of things is not easy for me. It takes a lot of my energy and gives me anxiety. He knows this.

I expressed that I'm feeling very frustrated, very tired of these conversations.

So then he comes over this weekend (friday night) and takes a shower. After he got in bed, I went to the bathroom and there was some of his body lotion on the floor- like a few drops. Which, is bad for a few reasons. first of all, if my cat were to ingest it, it could hurt him. Bc everything is poison to cats. And i've explained this to my boyfriend a million times. second of all, I could've slipped and hurt myself. and third, that's just another thing he did that I had to clean up.

So I obviously was like dude, what the fuck. I didn’t get “mad”, I didn't yell. but I was clearly frustrated. Bc he walks around with his eyes closed. I have BEGGED him to be aware, to use his eyes, to be mindful, and he just doesn’t.

And I know he loves me but it’s hard for me not to be constantly annoyed at him when he just keeps fucking up. Like I said, the rose colored glasses are gone. destroyed. I'll never get them back.

He just keeps showing me that he doesn’t care. And it makes me feel like that bad guy when I keep bringing it up and getting frustrated at him. I feel bad for being so annoyed at him, for 'nagging' him. But im like, Jesus christ, it's been MONTHS of this shit.

Four months of me constantly cleaning up after him. Reminding him to do things or asking him not to do other things. Asking him to keep me and my happiness in mind. Asking him to respect my space and protect my cat.

It’s just so frustrating bc it feels so nitpicky and annoying, you know? But I’m just like DUDE. COME ON. I’m not asking him to move mountains or anything. I'm asking him to put things back when he uses them. to not put dirty things on my bed. To push his chair in after he's done sitting in it. etc etc. I'm asking him to be a normal human adult with basic manners.

And I dont know how many conversations we can have before I lose it

it's not fair. I have a lot of stress on my shoulders bc of school. And he adds to it by not making me feel cared for or respected.

it's so tough, bc he's sweet and has a great heart. I know he's a good person. But it's like he chooses not to use his brain. I'm not saying he has to be perfect. He doesn't have to like, vacuum my apartment or dust my baseboards when he comes over (I would never ask him to do anything like that). I just want him to leave my space either the same or better than he found it.

I've even asked him to frame my requests in different ways if it makes it easier for him to remember how to act at my place. I told him to frame it in such a way that "okay, if I do this it will make less work for hope" or "if I do this it will make hope less stressed" or even "if I do this, hope will be in a better mood and she'll be more inclined to have sex with me" (which is selfish and stupid and he shouldn't need to think that way- but I'm desperate).

and none of it has worked.

I find myself feeling so annoyed at him like 85% of the time, because we've had so many talks that haven't done shit. and its like, every time he comes over, I know there's gonna be something. Again, he does not have to be perfect.

And the things that I'm asking him to do are not hard or time consuming- I could very easily do these things for him. but I refuse to. I will not do them. I will not be his mother and clean up after him. I will not let him just traipse around my apartment leaving little messes in his wake like a toddler.

I need him to have basic respect for me, my cat, my things, and my apartment.

[oncetherenowhere]

They're mourning doves. We have lovely new mourning dove neighbors. One of them stays perched over our screen door, she doesn't flutter away when I come and go; she cocks her head and stares at me every time. I speak softly to her whenever I see her. Good morning. I'll be on my way.

Work is fine. My two immediate coworkers are still lovely. The other coworker is still frustrating.

It's really making me dread going to work, especially when my coworker M isn't there; he doesn't say anything to me in front of her, only on the days when she isn't working. That leads me to further believe that he's intentionally messing with me. She believes me, of course- she even told me that he'd done this to another employee a few years ago, and they quit out of frustration. She's actually pretty mad about it. It's kind of nice to have someone angry on my behalf. This is the first workplace where someone has been mean to me, and it isn't being brushed under the rug, so that's good at least. I asked her not to say anything yet, because I'm hoping I can try to resolve it myself.

My plan? The next time he snarks at me, or makes a rude comment, or micromanages, I'm just going to...say something. I've been practicing different things I can say. None of them are rude in turn, just firm and polite. If saying something doesn't work...or if I freeze again and just take it...I'll have to bring it to the owners.

The problem is, I think he's been particularly mean to be because I told the owners once before. He didn't get in trouble or anything like that; if anything, the owners seemed surprised, like they thought I had misinterpreted his behavior. They both told me they thought he was very nice and sweet. I agreed that he had the capacity to be so; part of why his actions had been disorienting was that we had been on good terms for months! We would chat, we were chill, then one day, his demeanor changed. I looked back into our last normal conversations to make sure I didn't say anything off, but to my knowledge, it feels like it happened for no reason.

I guess their comments do sound like it was being brushed under the rug after all, but M is fierce, and said she won't like it slide again. It...feels nice to have someone in my corner. She makes me feel protected, which is something I've very rarely felt.

I'm just afraid that if I try to resolve the situation, and it gets worse...I have issues with this job, but it's also very flexible, and I'm good at the work. I don't think I could find another job in the industry like this. The nature is laid back- or was, I guess- and I just don't think I can adjust to a new job in a new place with its own problems...not again, at least.

My ideal situation would be not having to work for a living in the first place. I'm tired all the time. I have so much I want to do that I just can't. All my hobbies during the week are self-care focused so I don't burn out. It leaves very little time to write or draw. I run, I stretch, because I know the exercise helps me regulate, but then the exercise takes me out, too. I feel like I spent every weekend doing very little to compensate.

I feel like that art piece...that machine that's constantly trying to sweep up its own oil spill. There's just always Something. I'm floundering to hold myself together, it takes constant effort. Regulating myself feels like a second full time job.

I've been having bad dreams about a different place I worked, where something similar to this happened. It started with comments and rude remarks. Then it turned into physical threats and genuine bullying. My boss at that time didn't believe me. It turned so hostile I had to quit. I just don't want that to happen again.

It's going to sound so self-pitying, but I don't know what it is about me that causes this to happen. I never tell people I'm autistic anymore because it leads to bad things, but it seems like people are just able to tell. I've gotten singled out to be bullied at every place I've ever worked, every year in school...

I think it's my looks, too. I look a bit strange. I have huge eyes, and a very small mouth, round cheeks- my nose was broken as a kid, so it's got a permanent tilt. I look awkward. I've always been told so. If I was attractive, I think I could get away with my oddities. The fact that I'm awkward and weird looking? Nuh-uh.

Anyways, I've got to get ready for work. So...we'll see how that goes. I really don't want to go today. Augh!

[halflingkima]

i was tagged by @mell0bee 💖 and much like them, i did this tag at least a year ago so i kinda wanna see what's changed.

Are you named after anyone? My paternal grandmother, but also the storybook character Madeline. (I have a theme song :D)

When was the last time you cried? Uhh like this past weekend, reading the acknowledgements of All the Hidden Paths by Foz Meadows. I was really just skimming it but uhh I guess I was in a vulnerable place after the story that the acknowledgements cut in there and Got me lol

Do you have kids? no but i have a new baby niece who is the light of my life :)))

Do you use sarcasm a lot? I think I actually use it less than average. Definitely less than I did as a snarky teen. Just feels mean nowadays.

What sports do you play? none at the moment, but historically soccer, volleyball, and dance, and still enjoy casual frolicking of those styles.

What’s the first thing you notice about people? Hair. Since I cut mine, I'm constantly thinking about my own, so I probably notice their hair.

What’s your eye color? bluuue

Scary movies or happy endings? happy endings. this question no doubt feels like apples and oranges, but i've never been a scary movie person, and i do love a cheesy romance novel.

Any special talents? uuuhhhhhhhhhhhh i'm rly good at staying awake. i think. does that count. what even counts as special.

Where were you born? I'm a cali girl......... in a cali world........

What are your hobbies? lately: reading, writing, crocheting, giffing, and D&D. also sewing off and on but the stars have to like align in a triple planet retrograde or something.

Do you have any pets? nope

How tall are you? 5'5

Favorite subject in school? depends on the year you asked me tbh. think i'm gonna cheat and say theatre bc my college degree involved classes in playwriting, history, costume/lighting/set design, stage management, and literature analysis, not to mention actual stage production experience. (I did the same in high school on a smaller scale.) Ironically, I think my theatre degree involved more writing than my creative writing degree.

Dream job? I do not dream of labor. jk jk lol. but i've been actively evaluating how my concept of work and jobs and how it's so very directly attached to who you know or are adjacent to because there's so many niche industries and abilities and how versatile humans are and anyone can do anything if they want to and invest their time/effort/energy. (like who you know + your specific experiences, not in a Networking way, but just. a not knowing what you don't know way.) i want to do anything/everything which is my primary strugglebus re: Future Thoughts. My cousin blames on my rising sign (sagittarius). i also have a deep fear that if i do something i actually like for a living, i'll ruin all enjoyment of that thing. that being said, i'd like to publish a novel. and design concert/band stage lights. i'd want to work somewhere in the fiber/fabric industry if conditions were fair (& not outsourced). my current job (library book van) is actually pretty great, but i'd like to work inside the building eventually. idk man i have less a dream job and more 'honestly, i'll try anything. i'll try harder if there's a benefits plan.'

sorry if i repeat tag anyone and of course feel free to ignore me lol. i'm tagging @politedemon @crushpdf @waitingforarthur @voiceoftheashari @wellthatswhatithought

[veratasswrites]

Cross-Post of Writeblr Intro!

Writeblr Re-Intro

(Originally posted to @directionoftime - just moving my writeblr to this blog!)

Hey Writeblr!! I attempted to join the community a few years back but way too quickly found myself overwhelmed and ended up fizzling out >.> but I'm back now and hoping to make a better (less stressed out) effort! A bit worried I might have burnt-off some of the writeblr folks by just kinda peace-ing out, but I really do hope to make a better go of it this time around and post/interact more often! (I have so many writeblr posts to catch up on, yikes!)

About me: Vera (she/her) I have been writing consistenly for a solid 15ish years now, have a creative writing master's behind me, (and over a million combined words in fan-fic LOL) and finally feel in a creative place where I'm ready to (hopefully) start publishing, in whatever form it takes!

So, onto the point here: Novel Intro!

YES! Some of you (might) remember my novel Sauvarin - well, it's back, babey! And about 95-99% complete!! Currently on my last round of scene-rewrites and line editing before I begin the horrifying task of querying!

Only been ten years in the making, lmao >.>

So, what the heck is SAUVARIN??

TLDR: fantasy post-apocalypse featuring an autistic blacksmith who is utterly oblivious to the local boot-legger Trying Very HArd to be her girlfriend (pray for Yenn, y'all! She is being SO brave about it!) Said blacksmith, Isaura, is instead on A Mission Of Great Importance to inter the ashes of her surrogate father, Soo-young, in his childhood home town. Except, no one's ever heard of this town, the internet's broken, and she accidenatlly discovers that METAL IS LIVING NOW???

Why do all "simple requests" always end up being the most cataclysmic???

Want to know more? Please go ahead, if not, thanks for looking in this far :)

Well, on to major themes and elements! We've got:

NON-DYSTOPIAN post-apocalypse (we're currently living in the dystopia, y'all!), set in the near distant future where the vast majority of humanity has fled climate change to an orbital space station leaving circa 10million people on earth. The endlings determined to protect what they still can, raise their children, protect their towns, and face whatever magic storms come their way. But right now? They have food, they have community, and there's always something silly to laugh at!

It is a LOW-FANTASY, meaning we've got: freaky and intelligent animals! A magic so new to the world, most people don't realise it's possible! The corpse of god! Cool mushrooms! A darkness that watches YOU! Baba-Yaga (she's a scientist now)! Old women who Take No Shit But Absolutely Know How To Harm!

NATURE mutating - what it "reclaims" in some areas, it mutates in others, or simply allows itself to start anew. Nature in this novel is very much embodiying the quote: "you cannot kill me in a way that matters". Freaky deer. Metal predators. Plants that grab onto YOU.

NOBODY WINS, BUT NO ONE LOSES EITHER the head of Department for Zoology took one look at the "provisional government" and just fucked off into the woods (Baba Yaga). "The Hero" of the orbital space station realising what their heroism actually cost the earth in raw materials. The dead are returned, but not to the life they remembered leaving. Sometimes you do, in fact, find the ghost of a child in the woods (it's okay if you are not sure what to do next).

Well, that's probably enough for now. I'll do some character intro posts (as memes!) hopefully over the weekend - it's a fairly big cast with a lot of minor-in-screen-time-but-major-in-plot characters so it'll be a bit of a series, I think.

Any questions? Feel free to ask! But I will be moving all writeblr stuff/posts about this blog over to my new side blog @veratasswrites so if you want to follow the posts, please follow that blog!

I'll tag some of the old writeblrs I'd followed/who were so awesome and welcoming the first time - but if you're not interested or anything I really mean NO PRESSURE!

@ryan-shepard-writes, @writeblrfantasy, @magic-is-something-we-create

Anyone's welcome to be +/- tag list!

Thank's so much for reading! :)



[matthewkniesys]

"Being able to resolve actual arguments because they both value the friendship too much." With Cale please

I just made it platonic cause that was the easiest to write :)

You pause outside of Cale's front door. You two had fought yesterday and hadn't talked it out. You both ALWAYS make sure to talk it out. so what was different about this time?

Maybe it was the fact that both of you, but especially Cale, were tired after the avs game. Or maybe you just wanted to be petty. Or maybe it was because it was your first time fighting about a guy.

You and one of your friends had started going out a couple weeks ago and nothing was serious yet but you wanted to do something with him and Cale so they could start getting to know each other, because you think this guy could be something long term.

With one last deep breath you lift your hand up to Cale's front door and knock. You hear a muffled voice on the other side of door and soon it's opening and you're standing right in front of Cale

"Um, hey y/n. Come in? Want coffee or tea?"

With a weak smile you respond tea and go to sit at the island.

Cale puts the kettle on and then looks at you. "Listen y/n, I just want to tell you that I am really sorry for what happened last night. I know i overstepped my boundaries and that wasn't okay. I won't do it again."

"It's okay. I know you were just trying to protect me and you only want what's best for me. Plus I know you spent all night feeling like shit so I think you're off the hook."

"I mean you aren't wrong. I didn't really sleep last night but it's all good. I kinda deserved it. I know you really like this guy so if it means so much to you, I'll give my best effort to get to know him.' Cale smiles at you.

"Can I ask you something?" You question Cale, wanting to know the answer to the question that had been circling your mind since last night.

"Always. Ask me whatever you want?"

"Cale, do you like me as more than just a friend?"

"Y/n, no. I never have and probably never will. I just love you so much that I don't want you to get hurt but I'm not jealous."

You exhale the breath you've been holding in. "I'm glad, cause this would've been really awkward if you were in love with me. I'm really happy that we're good enough of friends that we can talk shit out when we get into an argument cause I really don't wanna lose you."

"I don't wanna lose you either y/n."

thanks for reading and keep sending in🫶

claire's prompt weekend

[directionoftime]

Writeblr Re-Intro

Hey Writeblr!! I attempted to join the community a few years back but way too quickly found myself overwhelmed and eneded up fizzling out >.> but I'm back now and hoping to make a better (less stressed out) effort! A bit worried I might have burnt-off some of the writeblr folks by just kinda peace-ing out, but I really do hope to make a better go of it this time around and post/interact more often! (I have so many writeblr posts to catch up on, yikes!)

About me: Vera (she/her) I have been writing consistenly for a solid 15ish years now, have a creative writing master's behind me, (and over a million combined words in fan-fic LOL) and finally feel in a creative place where I'm ready to (hopefully) start publishing, in whatever form it takes!

So, onto the point here: Novel Intro!

YES! Some of you (might) remember my novel Sauvarin - well, it's back, babey! And about 95-99% complete!! Currently on my last round of scene-rewrites and line editing before I begin the horrifying task of querying!

Only been ten years in the making, lmao >.>

So, what the heck is SAUVARIN??

TLDR: fantasy post-apocalypse featuring an autistic blacksmith who is utterly oblivious to the local boot-legger Trying Very HArd to be her girlfriend (pray for Yenn, y'all! She is being SO brave about it!) Said blacksmith, Isaura, is instead on A Mission Of Great Importance to inter the ashes of her surrogate father, Soo-young, in his childhood home town. Except, no one's ever heard of this town, the internet's broken, and she accidenatlly discovers that METAL IS LIVING NOW???

Why do all "simple requests" always end up being the most cataclysmic???

Want to know more? Please go ahead, if not, thanks for looking in this far :)

Well, on to major themes and elements! We've got:

NON-DYSTOPIAN post-apocalypse (we're currently living in the dystopia, y'all!), set in the near distant future where the vast majority of humanity has fled climate change to an orbital space station leaving circa 10million people on earth. The endlings determined to protect what they still can, raise their children, protect their towns, and face whatever magic storms come their way. But right now? They have food, they have community, and there's always something silly to laugh at!

It is a LOW-FANTASY, meaning we've got: freaky and intelligent animals! A magic so new to the world, most people don't realise it's possible! The corpse of god! Cool mushrooms! A darkness that watches YOU! Baba-Yaga (she's a scientist now)! Old women who Take No Shit But Absolutely Know How To Harm!

NATURE mutating - what it "reclaims" in some areas, it mutates in others, or simply allows itself to start anew. Nature in this novel is very much embodiying the quote: "you cannot kill me in a way that matters". Freaky deer. Metal predators. Plants that grab onto YOU.

NOBODY WINS, BUT NO ONE LOSES EITHER the head of Department for Zoology took one look at the "provisional government" and just fucked off into the woods (Baba Yaga). "The Hero" of the orbital space station realising what their heroism actually cost the earth in raw materials. The dead are returned, but not to the life they remembered leaving. Sometimes you do, in fact, find the ghost of a child in the woods (it's okay if you are not sure what to do next).

Well, that's probably enough for now. I'll do some character intro posts (as memes!) hopefully over the weekend - it's a fairly big cast with a lot of minor-in-screen-time-but-major-in-plot characters so it'll be a bit of a series, I think.

Any questions? Feel free to ask! But I will be moving all writeblr stuff/posts about this blog over to my new side blog @veratasswrites so if you want to follow the posts, please follow that blog!

I'll tag some of the old writeblrs I'd followed/who were so awesome and welcoming the first time - but if you're not interested or anything I really mean NO PRESSURE!

@ryan-shepard-writes, @writeblrfantasy, @magic-is-something-we-create,