#i cannot get over how good the shading is. goddamn

[frecklystars]

eronposts on twitter drew me and my starlight in our meadow!!! 🥺🥺🥺💖💓💗💝💝💕💘💓💓💖💘💟💕💝💗💗

#oh my god his fangs 😭💕💕 #wuhwuhwuguhgugh THE SOFTNESS IN HIS EYES #THE WAY HE'S CRADLING ME AGAINST HIS FACEPLATES??? #ive stared at these for so long the past few days #the scratches on his armor... the gotdam SHADING??? christ #im such a mess #he looks so happy and that is literally all that i will ever strive for #i am going to stare at these for five more hours now. #precious commissions tag #💕 Two falling stars ✨ #WE ARE REALLY JUST LAYING IN THE GRASS TOGETHER 😭😭💙💙💙💙💙 #I KNOW IM THE ONE WHO LITERALLY WROTE THE ENTIRE STORY BUT #SEEING OTHER PPL DRAW IT IS THE SWEETEST THING EVER #i cannot get over how good the shading is. goddamn #and the claws??? everything is so fucking detailed #HE IS SO GENTLE AND HE LOOKS SO HAPPY 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[ch6douin]

I was inspired by pictures of cats on the aftermath of meeting their owners or random people who love cats with lipstick on. Imagine players in their world with their lil plush counterparts and one night after being given a little too much booze by demi characters are seeing their plush counterparts covered in lipstick marks. Player is seen with smeared lipstick the same shade.

Victor is fucking unsure of what to do. He’s hiding in his room, face pushed into his pillow. Laying on his stomach and swinging his feet. Victors plush is seen admiring its kiss marks. Also wick probably got a kiss mark on his forehead. Everyone but victor getting a kiss smh

Andrew is still reeling from spotting his plush self coated in lil kiss marks. They make eye contact. Andrews like “Huh?????” His plush counterpart says nothing but lowers its head almost bashfully.

Ganji is both sorta flattered but also probably one of the ones trying to figure out how to clean his plushie off. Not until after he’s done marking this down in his memory tho.

Emma has the same reaction as victor. But probably is seen skipping around holding her plushie self. Is in a good mood for remaining week.

Also i wanna add Demi witnessed all of this and had the time of her life. The mighty player being a very very affectionate and cuddly drunk is one thing she had not been prepared for but my god. Cutest thing ever. Only one of the survivors to be given a kiss on her forehead. Got some good cuddles too.

Freddy plush is only one to be unkissed. Freddy plush is seen to be bitter about this and has been a bully. Freddy acts like he dont care but it keeps him up at night. Fuck freddy. All my homies hate freddy.

Oh god that is so cute anon (all my homies hate freddy too)

The thought that you spared some time to pepper kisses on the soft material of plushies that resemble them makes some of them absolutely smitten. Are you trying to send them an indirect message? Does that mean that you...you wanna kiss them? Are these your hidden intentions?

Thanks to you, they cannot help but panic whenever they are alone with you. Some of them are pretty good at pretending not to, but Andrew for example? Every time you move towards him you can see the way he looks away and scowls in embarrassment. Yes, embarrassment, he is not mad at you surprisingly. And clueless you don't even know why some of them are acting so weird because you don't remember anything. Demi is happy with the outcome, she had the privilege of seeing you in a vulnerable state no one else ever did, and she got real kisses too.

"There you go. Run around or whatever you have in mind..." Ganji murmurs, messily stuffing his pocket with the washcloth he was just using as his plushie jumps from his lap and scurries away with enthusiasm, Ganji figures out that it is about to run around the manor looking for you out of all people. Even he didn't know why the plushie was so attached to you, it was squirming out of his lap just a few seconds ago, earning an annoyed grunt from Ganji who just wished to clean the evident lipstick marks from its grumpy face. Why did that thing like you more than himself? No matter how much he contemplates, nothing comes up to soothe his confusion.

Then, he is thinking of these kisses much to his dismay. How they were scattered over its chin, cheeks, eyebrows, nose...lips. And he knows that it was you because he decided to pay attention to you and let his eyes linger and there it was, the same tone of those goddamn lipstick marks. He knows that you pressed your soft lips all over the little bundle of energy and let it stumble its way back to him, so dizzy and lovesick. Lucky thing—no, he did NOT just think that. There is nothing else to do besides slumping on his chair with a sigh, hands running through his curly hair.

He doesn't want to let his guard down, however, it's so painful not to think of having you plopping your lips against his instead.

(that was supposed to be MEE bro)

#idvselfaware #self aware au #idv x reader #asks #identity v x reader #ganji gupta x reader

[dameronscopilot]

okay hi, I hope this okay, but I saw your post about taking a shot at Santi's knees every time you write about him-- but hear me out. This man is a filthy mouthed heathen (and I say that with so much love), but you cannot tell me that he wouldn't turn to putty in your hands if you reversed the roles, and called him out for being so desperate that is willing to blow them out on the spot, just to touch you (or to be touched). Just wanted to share that thought!

(This is more than okay, my inbox is ALWAYS open for spicy thoughts thots)

I'm so obsessed with this concept that I actually blacked out and well...you'll see under the cut 😂 !

Santiago's Shitty Knees Be Damned

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!reader

Word Count: 700+ words of Santi's shitty ass knees versus the distraction of your goddamn sundress ✨

NSFW 18+ content below.

Santiago's spent the whole afternoon watching the way the short, teasing hem of your dress flutters delicately high up on your thighs as you flit about at the barbecue. And perhaps you've milked the whole situation just a tad, making sure he gets a generous peek underneath when you bend over directly in front of him.

He's ten shades of frustrated by the time the sun starts going down, so when you finally disappear into the house to use the bathroom, he makes a beeline to follow you.

Dick achingly hard in his pants, he's waiting outside the door for you when you finish. He crowds you right back inside the small room, pushing the door closed as his mouth latches onto yours immediately.

You idly begin to wonder what he has in mind, because the small sink has no counter for you to scoot up on top of. He takes notice of the predicament, and just when you're about to maneuver yourself to bend over the pedestal, you find yourself shoved up against the wall instead.

After shoving down his pants, Santi busies his lips with the swell of your breasts as he slides a hand up your dress, his palms running over the eager slick of arousal that's begun to drip down your thighs.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, palming at his thick, leaking cock with his other hand.

He presses up against you, rubbing his shaft through your slippery folds as his hands reach around to cup just under your ass, pulling you toward him.

He can't be fucking serious.

"Santi, what the fuck are you doing?"

He hefts you up, using his elbows to encourage you to wrap your legs around his waist. He grunts, and you don't have to look down to know his knees are bowing at the effort.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're two seconds from blowing out your shitty ass knees. This is why we don't have sex in this position."

You run a hand through his curls, and his eyes flutter shut for a moment as he leans his head into the touch. You can tell he's fighting off the pain by the way he pushes forward into you slightly.

As he moves, his shaft—which is trapped against his stomach—presses against your clit and tugs at your folds as it rubs against them, and you unconsciously buck your hips.

Santi's caught somewhere between a wince and a moan, but he ultimately grips you tighter, thrusting upward.

And it's hot. It's so fucking hot that this man is so desperate to fuck you, so desperate to get his cock inside of your wet cunt, that he's ready to destroy his busted ass knees just to fuck you up against a wall in the bathroom of a stranger's house.

You tell him as much, and he ruts against you again, nuzzling his nose against your neck, mouthing at the sensitive expanse of skin there.

He nods, and you continue, “You’re so pussy drunk already, Santi. You’ve spent all day thinking about how good it’ll feel to sink your fat dick inside of me when we get home. You’ve been imagining me riding you, my tits bouncing in your face, until you fill me up with cum.”

“Jesus Christ,” he chokes out, his hips trembling, more pre-cum dribbling out of his length.

“But you couldn’t even wait till we left, couldn't hold out to take me apart in the backseat of your truck, because you knew you’d blow your load right there in your pants if I bent over in front of you one more time.”

His breathing grows ragged as he rubs his forehead against your collarbone.

“So instead, you thought you’d fuck me right here, up against a wall, shitty fucking knees be damned."

You reach a hand between you, firmly squeezing his dick, and Santiago whines.

He fucking whines.

"Your legs are two seconds from giving out, and I bet all you can think about is my wet pussy clenching down on your cock."

You shift your hips and adjust his shaft, notching the head against your entrance, and your breath hitches at the teasing stretch to your fluttering hole. Santi's beard scratches your chin as he brings his face to meet yours, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss.

"You'll fight through the pain just so you can fuck me full of your cum and make me walk back out there with it sloshing around in my underwear."

A strangled sound leaves Santi's mouth, and he growls, "Fuck my knees," as he finally plunges his cock inside of you.

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» OSCAR ISAAC MASTERLIST » SANTIAGO GARCIA MASTERLIST

#answers from the cockpit #santiago garcia #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fanfiction #dee writes

[possumphobic]

For me

— pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader

— a.n.: a bit of smut i wrote for a friend. i didn't like it tbh, but they did so i'm posting it anyway. this is so bad but give me a discount, it was about 4am when i wrote it and i did not proof read it

— warnings: penetration, (poorly written) smut, praise kink, maybe a ooc eddie but who cares.( minors dni )

"Mhmm... Such a good girl, taking me so well, isn't she?" The praise leaves Eddie's lip with a smirk as he pounds into you, his hand firm on your hips, his eyes mesmerized by the way you get lost in pleasure, aching with every touch he gives you. "So good..." He groans, again and again as the thrusts on you, hitting just the spot.

He knows you well. Well enough to know just how to work you up, well enough to know every place he has to touch to turn you on. He knows exactly what he's doing to you, as his lips run hotly, leaving marks on your skin in shades of red and pink. He knows what he's doing as his fingers travel down your body with lust, his thumb massaging your clit as your body trembles with the stimulation.

"Eds..." The way his name fall off your lips make he questions how long he can take this. You say it like it's something holy, like a prayer, and at the same time, something profane.

He thinks he might be addicted to it.

"You like that?" He grins widely as he casts his gaze upon you. "You like that, pretty girl?"

"Y-yeah..." The word stutters to leave your mouth as you feel him speeding up.

"Now tell me what do you want." He orders.

"I want you to let me cum... Please, Eds."

There again. Eds. If anybody else were to give him a nickname as silly as this one, he would promptly disagree to it, maybe even go an extra mile and make the whole scene. But when the name rolled out of your lips for the first time, he knew it was the end of him. The way your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, covered with slick and glistening at him when you called him, he couldn't find it on him to go against you.

And god, he wanted to let you cum all over him.

"Not yet, sweetheart. Just hold it for me, can you do it?" He touched your face softly, your big eyes looking at him, lips parted as you let out a dozen dirty sounds that made him go crazy.

You looked at him, displeasure written all over your face.

"Please, Eds, I've been so good for you..." You whined to him.

"I know, darling, and I love that about you. But not just yet. We're not done playing."

You frowned at him. Or better saying, attempted to. It was hard to do anything when your mind couldn't think about anything else but Eddie. His hips thrusting faster and faster each time, his hands steadying you in place with enough strength to leave the marks of them on your skin, his messy curls tickling the crook of your neck each time he would lower himself to give you a love bite.

"P-Please, Eds..." You cannot think of another words as you feel your walls clenching around of him, the same thing playing again and again on your mind as you feel a familiar hotness gathering on your lower belly.

"Is that all you can think about, love? Cumming? Cumming for me?" He asks you, his voice deep and filled with lust. You nod to him, mindlessly. "Good girl..." He says, stocking deeply inside of you. "Come for me, uhm darling? Be a good little girl and cum all over my cock."

And just like you were perfectly synchronized, you snap, letting yourself go of the denied orgasm and coating him with your slick, his name over and over leaving your lips amongst curse words and dirty moans, your mouth opened wide and Eddie's gaze upon you, same goddamn expression on his face.

#stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #why did i even post this

[honey-dewey]

So I spent the better part of the last three months (how long has it been since they announced Survivor?) absolutely throwing myself into a Cal Kestis cosplay because that’s what I do I guess. You can check it out on Friday on my Insta, honey_dewbear, but as I made the damn thing, I had questions! I noticed things! And I am sharing those things/questions with you all. Because, y’know, reasons. 

90% of his shirt (and presumably pant) seams are felled seams. This is both good and bad. Good because felled seams are incredibly sturdy and more likely to hold up over time, as they should in canon, so someone clearly did their research. Bad because I hate felling seams. It’s tedious and I hate it

I don’t think you all understand how desperately I want to know the canon materials used for Cal’s clothes. I have to know. I have to. I spent an hour looking for suitable fabrics. AN HOUR.

Why. Why. Why does Cal wear one sleeve rolled and the other down? Realistically I know it’s for east tattoo access but like. Roll the other one up too!!!

Cal’s gear padding is actually insulated with quilt batting. It’s very warm. And plush. And makes that leather thing actually comfortable. 

Cal’s sleeves have outer seams instead of inner. This is very annoying. Very very annoying. You can’t hide messy outer seams. 

Someone please tell me how BD-1 is staying on Cal’s back. Because there’s no grip, no straps, no nothing. 

fUCK FELLED SEAMS

Cal- Cal has- on his arm- he has-

Excuse me while I go cry

Words cannot describe how weird this pant material is. It looks like denim? But also canvas duck? I got canvas duck, but like what is it actually made of?????

Cal’s pants have leather patches on his ass. It’s probably to reinforce that commonly-used area. I think it’s just funny. 

There’s a red and blue patch on Cal’s left shoulder that I desperately want to know what it looks like. Does it have words??? What does it say????

Patch update because I found a real reference. It doesn’t say anything. It’s pure gibberish. I’m gonna vote that it’s a patch Cal found for that Huttese band because it’s written in Huttese. 

What the fuck is in all those goddamn canisters he carries around? Are they stims? Caffeine shots? Liquor? 

Someone please explain exactly what every single patch and canister and pouch on Cal’s outfit does/holds. I have to know. For science. 

tHE LITTLE ORANGE WATER BOTTLE MY BELOVED. I DIDNT HAVE ONE BUT ITS MY FAVORITE ACCESSORY PIECE

Unrelated to the costume but the concept art for Cal? Yeah he looks like a child in that. That’s a babey. I can believe that boy is eighteen at best. 

And we’ve come full circle to why the hell does Cal only wear one goddamn glove? AND ITS NOT EVEN HIS SABER HAND. 

The pink poncho is my favorite and I realized it’s the exact same shade of pink as two of the walls at my workplace. Crumbl Cookie Pink Poncho

Cal’s got a broad ass chest. Or maybe I’m just. Not broad-chested

I’m noticing very quickly that there aren’t many reference photos for Cal. Huh. 

Weathering this costume is gonna hurt because each sleeve took me a couple of hours. HOURS. 

Cal’s sleeve/shirt/pant patches are super funny to me because they’re thick and padded and to make them more comfortable for me (and also appropriately thick), I used bright pink fleece because it was what I had lying around. So that’s my new headcanon. Cal’s clothes are padded with a variety of funny colored fleece patches 

Cal has significantly longer proportions than I do (I’m short) and so everything looks absolutely tiny. But nope, it’s all right, I’m just not tall. 

It was at this stage in the game (just under halfway done) that I was debating making Cal’s glove by hand so the fabric would be the same. I will get back to you on whether or not I would soon regret this decision. 

The leather vest piece thing is my favorite part of this costume. It’s so cool!

It also stinks of foam and leather

Does Cal wear his pants cuffed? DOES HE????

Tried to make the glove and gave up immediately. Decided to just use the same one I had for Hera Syndulla. 

Cal’s pants are sectioned in a very odd way that I had a tough time replicating. Mid thigh seams???? I don’t understand.

Cal’s lightsaber is really cool, honestly one of my favorite designs in all of Star Wars, but, uh, how does he clip it to his belt?

We’re back to the fact that he has so many pouches and pockets and I desperately need to know what each one has in it. Does he keep little granola bars? Money? Tools? I have to know!

I’m still, literally still stuck up on what all the little identification rectangles on the shirt/belt/pant pocket are. Do they identify Cal’s clothes as his? Are they for funsies? A guild identification? WHAT ARE THEY?

#Star Wars #star wars jedi fallen order #jedi fallen order #cal ketsis #cosplay

[zozo-01]

HAPPY SUPER WILD CARD WEEKEND EVERYONE!!!!

[insert cricket noises]

No one knows what I'm talking about? Alright good. Anywhoooo, me and @sri-rachaa have very strong opinions on which teams the Redacted Boys are a fan of, and in honour the NFL playoffs, why not see how our insufferable cowboy is doing.

CW: Mentions of Brighteyes, Darlin' and Lovely OCs (Bright uses they/them pronouns, the other two use she/her pronouns), yes Zohniyya and Rennie make a comeback cuz I said so, Give Monroe a warm welcome, Zo is a Bills fan, Vincent is a San Diego Chargers fan (fight me on that) and Sam is appropriately a Cowboys fan (tis his only flaw)

--

"You think bein' raised 'round Cowboys fans would make me ready to date one."

"Zo, I don't think there is any preparing to date those heathens."

The vampire and werewolf sat on the coach, watching the southern man boast about how his team will go to the SuperBowl, something that both have heard over the years. Never happens though.

Vincent stood up, if he had to hear any more boasting, he'll go back in time and let a shade rip him to bits.

"WE GET IT!" He bellowed, letting out years of frustration from years of playoff futility. "THE COWBOYS ARE IN THE GODDAMN PLAYOFF AND THEY'RE GONNA LOSE IN THE DIVISIONAL ROUND!"

Sam smirked and cackled. "Oh excuuuuuse me, I ain't takin' shit from a team that hasn't made the playoffs for the last 5 goddamn years!"

"IT HAS NOT BEEN FIVE YEARS!"

"THE LAST TIME THEY MADE THE PLAYOFFS, THEY WERE STILL THE SAN DIEGO CHARGERS."

The vampire prince let out a horrified gasp. "THEY STILL ARE, YOU BASTARD."

Zohniyya was amused by the grown men fighting. 'Bitch please, we all know the Bills gonna win this year... I hope.'

Rennie, Monroe and Fred walked into the room, confused over the numerous animals Sam and Vincent were fighting over. Monroe spoke up first. "What are these bozos fighting over now?"

Zohniyya sighed and walked up to them. "Football playoff shit, just ignore 'em."

They let out a puzzled look. "I don't know how you can keep these teams straight." Monroe turned to Rennie. "And like, how did you deal with this growing up? Do you even know what's going on?"

Rennie shrugged. "No not really, I just watched for the halftime shows. Although, I always thought the Eagles were cool."

Immediately, silence filled the room. Zohniyya had a look of pity on her face. "Oh Rennie, what have you done-" She was cut off by Sam and Vincent.

"THE EAGLES? RENNIE I RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS!!!"

"WHAT HE SAID LOVELY, THIS IS BETRAYAL!!!"

While the men were berating Rehna on her poor choice of team, Zo looked at the young progenies. "Y'all take Vinny and I take Sammy?" They nodded, understanding the assignemnt and zipped to drag Vincent away.

She came in between the brother and sister. "OK! I thinkkk she gets it now, baby." She rubbed her hands soothingly over him, effectively calming him down.

"Darlin'. The Eagles. You cannot be defendin' those damn birds."

"I ain't defendin' shit. Besides. there're worst teams she can like, pyaari."

Rennie piped up. "Yea! I like other teams too! Like the Patriots-"

"FUCKING BOSTON???"

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #fem! darlin #fem! lovely #nb! brighteyes #gendered listener #teehee #if you haven't guessed it #it's zo screaming at the end #this is a boston hate club <333333 #im sorry but that city has put me fucking through ittttt #zo writes tingz #this is zo speaking

[kaayxshay]

My Morning Routine 😌✨:

i am in love with how perfect my life is… i still get amazed with how i have and get everything i want.

i love how happy & peaceful my life is; when i say there’s never a dull moment, there literally isn’t. i love waking up to my fresh smelling house, and getting up to let the shades up (i got them automatic shades that go out by themselves) i can’t sleep in the heat so my house is always cold so walking into my aesthetically pleasing bathroom that has marble floors i have to turn my heated floors on.

everytime i wake up & go into my bathroom seeing this fine ass face everyday just puts me in awe, cuz y tf am i so goddamn fineeee jeez i love it here and so does my man but we gon get into that ☺️ so yea after i stare at myself for a good 30-45 mins (yes conceited bitches like me be admiring my beauty everyday like this not my fault) i then do my morning routine, i don’t have a skincare routine because my skin is perfect and i literally cannot get acne or anything of that (skin always clean & clear over here) so yea i just wipe my face with cold water. then hop in the shower after i’m done brushing my teeth (which i don’t even have to do tht because my breath literally never stinks and my teeth are always pearly white- y’all being a master manifestor is amazing)

so then after ALL that i get dress in something comfy and go fix me some breakfast, yall y tf do i be making big ass breakfasts like im cooking for a damn family ?? i mean i be cooking for my man sometimes but he don’t be here all the time so anyway.

ima stop right here this is half of my morning routine, i do more than this but i got lazy i do not wanna type anything else lol.

#my lifestyle

[grimsneverendingfuneral]

Okay so I’m officially in love with your Rosekiller (they’re so ACCURATE), please indulge us in your Wolfstar headcanons 🎤

loooool ok anon youre cute so i'll do it but fucking hell wolfstar headcanons will be the death of me cause ive spent literally almost the same amount of time thinking about them as i have thinking about my own goddamn OCs

well the sirius i have in my head is a sickeningly blinding cosmic event (oh thatsgood). he's a walking paradox. he's impulsive and boisterous and laughs loudly but he's also intentional, fragile, vulnerable, dainty even. he walks like he knows exactly where he's going at all times, languid and relaxed, head held high. he wears whatever he wants. sometimes it's feminine, sometimes it's masculine, sometimes it's both. but even when he's wearing his blue jeans and leather jacket, he always looks regal, a little bit girlish, nose turned upwards and eyes twinkling with secret emotions only few people can decipher. he's loyal to a fault and it makes him crazy. the way he loves is testing. he's highly educated, writes only in cursive though he holds the pen with hatred. he grits his teeth in his sleep. has major anxiety. sometimes he can barely get a bite of food in him because he always feels sick. he hides it well but not so well. its all in his eyes, everything. you just gotta look. in my head he's half english half french, from la Corse. Corsica babyyyyy. he's a virtuoso with the piano and has a perfect ear. like, you could literally ask him what note your overheating laptop is making and he'll be like "hmm Si bémol." only knows music theory in french. he will kill for you but not die for you. he's almost nauseatingly driven. like, one track mind kind of person. if he has a goal, its getting done no matter how long it takes him. it gets him what he wants but it also makes him insufferable sometimes because there's no talking sense into him. he's sweet as a fucking button, though, my sirius. so so sweet. when he smiles you just wanna keep making him smile, when he laughs you just wanna get on your knees and beg he never stop. he's got the energy of a thousand suns, but has his moments of complete quiet and solitude. he needs those. at least once a day. he sleeps with the covers over his head, like an animal. if you're looking for sirius and you cant find him, look for a bump in the blankets. he'll be there. he also has crazy nightmares. like the type of person that just has nightmares every night. he's woken up at least once like in the movies, sprung up in bed screaming. also sleeps like he tosses and TURNS GOD and sometimes remus literally cannot stand it. the things he loves like music movies and books become his whole personality, he's very very obsessive with the things he loves. he'll talk your ear off about them if you ask him to. he like almost identifies with whatever he loves at that moment. he can cook. he's a good cook. homely stuff, like mashed potatoes and pie. he has the best table manners and doesnt really like people who dont. gives bombastic side eye in a way that makes it almost too funny not to laugh when you catch it. he loves to speak with his eyes, he's so good at it its scary.

remus. oh myyy goooooddd remus. no i just. i really really love him guys. okay my remus is half Polish half Welsh. his skin is fucking soft, idk thats just always sometimes that sits in my mind, like yes he has scars but the skin around them is just really fucking soft. he always smells kind of soft, too. contrary to sirius, who's all sharp features and contrasting hair on his pale skin, remus is just soft all over, actually. everything blends in real nice. his eyes are a shade of amber that is never quite the same in any lighting. watery eyes. sparkling eyes. Roman nose PLEASE. he's an avid smoker. he's a stoner, yes but he doesn't act like one. like he can hold his fuckin smoke. he has insomnia. his mind never stops. he takes in the world with wonder, always romanticizing everything. everything is beautiful and it breaks his heart. very protective of his heart but he wants so badly to just love freely and openly and avidly the way sirius does, or the way james does. he's not an asshole, but has asshole-ish tendencies. like he can be a bit dry and cold sometimes or aloof, but he doesn't really notice until someone mentions it then he's like oh shit my bad. he talks MAD SHIT. loves to talk shit. he's good at it too, you'll laugh with the digs he comes up with. RESTING BITCH FACE. please yes. he looks full of disdain, bored, but he's having the time of his life dont worry. sarcastic, always. but the funny kind, the silly kind. like youll ask him "hey can you get this thing for me" and he'l reply "no" while doing it. you never really know where you stand with him and its kind of his fatal flaw, like he always seems to have one foot out the door. when he loves you though, he is the LEAST judgmental person you'll ever meet. like seriously thats the way he loves. he embraces all parts of you, lets you evolve and change and make mistakes. he loves to be a guard dog. he is very protective. he's also mid. like looks wise, i love a mid remus. in the sense that, he's not striking, heads don't necessarily turn when he walks into a room, or they do but its only cause he's tall. but when he speaks, all solid cadence and a crinkly smile, you're like oh. oh. he's hot. also cant keep socks matched to save his life. they're always mismatched and even when he takes them out of the dryer, he doesnt bother to find the matching ones he just bunches them up together. drives sirius fucking mad.

i could keep going like its so bad. its so bad. im down bad

#ok pheewwwww #yall got me sweatin #thanks for your inquiry sweetness #this was fun #anon #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar

[miniscrew-anon]

The Cold War

@st0rmyskies HSH Edition because I cannot stop. I am shaking the whole household in my brain like it’s a snow globe

I dedicate this to everyone who knows The Struggle of home temperature regulation with roommates who span from radiators to lizard people.

———-

It starts with Warriors.

"78 degrees?" Wars looked down his nose at the temperature dial, perfectly manicured eyebrows cocked in offense. Having the heat pumping through the house in the middle of April was ridiculous. Especially when anything above 75 was sweating weather. He placed one hand on his hip and another to his head, sighing dramatically.

He did not spend 89 rupees of Time’s money just to have his foundation leak off his face, thank you very much!

Wars turns the temperature down to a much more reasonable number and nods contently to himself. He considers his good deed of the day done and returns to the kitchen table to steal the paper before Time can.

-----

74 degrees?!

Legend scowls, hands rubbing at his exposed knees furiously. He’d felt cold all morning but he thought it was just him. What kind of psycho would ever put it that low? That's goddamned sweater weather! And in April? When the winter chill was still in the air? What hairy mongrel could ever be comfortable in anything under 75? Does he live with goddamned yetis?

These assholes are lucky he doesn’t have the funds for black diamonds, or someone would be getting it in their charm bag for this.

The sullen young man turns it up, scowling all the while.

-----

"79? Are you for fucking real?" Wind hisses. He was already pissed that the whole house had central heating and only one thermostat that controlled the temperature everywhere. But having to trudge downstairs just to find someone actually set it to near 80 made it worse.

He’s sacrificed a lot of comfort to live with Twilight’s rejects, but this was too far. It’s like these assholes want his fucking computers to overheat.

Wind mutters angrily and twists the dial to something more reasonable.

----

"Okay, this is just ridiculous."

Twilight knows he's probably more used to the heat, being a country boy who spent his summers out in the field, but he finds it crazy that anyone could be comfortable at 72 degrees. Especially when it's still so nippy outside! Spring had only just begun, after all. And all of the shade from the nearby buildings made it that much cooler. Twilight had come in from the garden to warm up and he was not happy that warmth was nowhere to be found.

He grabs the dial and twists, putting it at 77. Then he pauses, thinking. It feels pretty cold outside now that the sun is setting - maybe he should turn it up a bit more to be safe. He turns the dial thrice more. There! Now the house will be nice and cozy.

------

Wild wipes sweat off his forehead and frowns at the dial. Someone must have accidentally bumped the thermostat - no one in their right mind would heat a house to 80.

Wild in particular liked it nice and cool, especially when he was busy cooking away over a hot stove. Which he had been for the last three hours while he made an experimental batch of pistachio and salsa cookies. He doesn't usually mind the heat but he's been baking all day, and opening the oven when it's already hot is like exposing himself to the gates of heck. He's pretty sure he's gotten a sunburn with how warm his face feels.

So he whistles cheerily and turns it down to a comfy 70, positive that everyone would be thankful he fixed it.

------

Hyrule shivers, wrapping his white coat around himself.

Maybe it was because the outside was so warm but the inside of the house felt cold. He takes off his crocs and hides them away in the back of the closet where Warriors wouldn't have to see them. Hyrule crosses the foyer and checks the temperature.

Apparently someone in the house is hot-blooded. Maybe a bit crazy, too, since 70 degrees for a house is a bit beyond the norm and pretty far from Hyrule's own range of comfort. Legends, too, now that he thinks of it.

Hyrule turns the heat up to 82. He wants to quickly warm the house before he has to go upstairs and listen to Legend no-doubly complain about the cold. But he'll turn it down before he goes upstairs so that he doesn't accidently cook his friends.

Hyrule goes into the kitchen for the first real meal of the day and promptly forgets about the thermostat in the face of homemade lasagna waiting in the fridge.

-----

Sky is Dying.

He'd gone to sleep on the couch in the living room and had woken up in the pits of Hell. He was panting and sweating, shirt soaked through and sticking to his body. When he'd gotten up from his nap he'd left a literal sweat stain on the upholstery.

Who set the temperature to 82?! Satan?!

He smacks the dial and turns it down until he can feel cool air start pouring out of the vents. Sky sighs in relief at the cold, leaving the thermostat to go sit down on the couch that sits directly under one of the air vents. He lays down, fully aware that he left the temperature a bit too low. He means to get up and turn it up, he really does, but the cool couch is so inviting. And when it does get a bit nippy he just pulls the blankets hanging over the back cushions and wraps himself up.

He promises himself that he'll get up and change it. Soon. Just after he closes his eyes for a bit. Just a few minutes, that’s all.

-----

Climbing up to the first floor felt less like walking up a flight of stairs and more like climbing the Hebra Mountains.

"Who the fuck turns a house into an ice box." Four hisses, staring at the thermostat from his self-made blanket burrito. The dial lay at a measly 67 degrees.

The mechanic had lugged his tools up from the garage with him because he'd been certain that the thermostat was broken. After all, what other explanation could there be for the house to suddenly become a part of the Arctic Circle?

But nope - turns out one of his housemates is just off their fucking rocker!

He reluctantly frees one hand and braves the arctic to dial up the heat. In retaliation for his numb fingers and chattering teeth, Four turns it up to 85. Both to piss off whatever abomination made the house that cold and also so that he'll regain feeling in his extremities faster. He returns to the garage, unapologetic of his actions.

------

In the middle of the night, a ferocious monster stalks the halls. Awoken from his slumber, sweat-drenched from the heat of the two winter blankets that had earlier been necessary, a killer searches for his prey. Down and down he travels, eyes glowing with embers of malice.

There, at the bottom of the stairs, he spots the target of his hatred. He stands before it and stares down, glowering and near foaming at the mouth in anger.

Funny how something so mundane could cause such fury. He takes hold of it, hands trembling with pure hatred, and twists.

Then, with all the strength, savagery and burning hot rage that has built within him over this last hellish day, he pulls his fist back and mercilessly sends the accursed thing straight to hell.

-----

The next morning, breakfast is unusually charged.

Wars is serving looks for breakfast, eyes narrowed and searching. Legend, in turn, lurked in the dark shadows of the room, startling housemates with his silent yet hair-raising presence. Wind had his phone out, scowling every time he felt eyes on him. Four, in an unusually sour mood, made bitter eye contact with everyone who happened to glance in his direction. Wild nervously served scrambled eggs with fresh veggies and pork sausages while Hyrule hovered near the coffee station with twitchy fingers. Twilight and Sky engaged in a conversation consisting entirely of eyebrow quirks and quick glances.

Time sips his coffee calmy, the picture of serenity despite his bruised knuckles.

And just outside those kitchen walls lay the latest victim of the Fierce Deity's wrath.

The thermostat: shattered, broken, and forever trapped on a mild 75 degrees.

#everybody tag yourself I’m Sky #HSH AU #Townhouse AU #crackfic #but also like #not really #also sorry for anyone who has to convert F to C #I did try to work it in but it hurt the flow

[stupidcanofpeaches]

okay okay so i just finished s2 of shadow and bone and again i have a Lot of Feelings about the matter. if you haven’t watched it yet please please just scroll down and past this one immediately bc here there be spoilers. you’ve been forwarned.

and now, the Feelings.

first of all, the ending. man. i know that jurda parem was in the books which i haven’t really read yet but im really excited about it bc i know from osmosis that something happens to nina and also we get to see more of the fan favorite barrel rat kaz and the rest of the crows which im always happy to. secondly, the ending. the Ending. finally some corrupt the cutie. i mostly like alina even despite certain mary sue shades but goddamn her slowly starting to slip into something way too similar to kirigan? hell yeah. that little smile she has when she straight up cuts the woman in half with the shadow cut, like straight up just kirigan’s shadow cut? Neat. that’s really Neat. i want to see how it works out for someone who’d witnessed how hunger for power works but also has totally the best intentions. give me a hint that a character is about to go a little nutty and all of a sudden im way more invested in the plotline.

and, of course, kaz and inej. tear my heart out why won’t you. also just gonna say that i appreciate all the kaz whump in s2! im definitely rewatching the pekka rollins scene. you know the one. the i’m begging you. are you? scene. the best a man can be is bloodied and unhinged. he gasps beautifully. yes i feel like a maniac writing this. and the magic drug hallucination scene? that fucking transition from him falling back and then sinking into the water with his arms open hhhhggngngng. also yeah it’s a little funny how the other crows hallucinate something somewhat nice, like jesper seeing his mom and gaining the resolve to be himself, or inej seeing kaz the way she’d like him to be - open, without his armor, able to touch her - and then there’s kaz just straight up hallucinating his dead brother pretty much waterboarding him and attempting to murder him. if i wanted to, i could probably also go into some way too deep analysis here and suggest that people on magic plant drugs tend to hallucinate things they want badly, and that kaz definitely has some sort of survivors guilt and a secret death wish. but i won’t. and the waking up scene! god. good god. that fleeing little second where he goes still and stares up at her, and his eyes are suspiciously wet. inej’s finger doing this little circle on his temple in an attempt to soothe him. the moment the reality hits him and you can see his brows furrow and then he cringes and twists away and inej immediately lets go of him. my heart my heart man why do you have to do this to me. and yeah i might have watched this scene a few times too many. 

and the finale ughhhhhhh. i will have you without armor or i will not have you at all. the fact that the scene takes place in the chapel with the stained glass saint looming over them. my only complaint is that is somewhat came off as inej almost blaming kaz for uhhhh. being traumatized? him not wanting to touch people without some sort of barrier between them, and sometimes even with the clothes acting as said barrier, is quite literally an involuntary trauma response, one he cannot control consciously - seemingly he can somewhat work with this if it’s a life or death situation, but not always (as shown by the scene where nina drags him by the scruff of his neck off to pekka rollins, which, on purpose or not, probably was not enjoyable and im almost sure nina touched his neck in the process)/ maybe im just reading too much into stuff. and no im not blaming inej for this - god knows she earned the right to have an equal partner who can be open with her. but her leaving and the longing look kaz gives her....... and the way he clearly wants to say something different but hesitates and then kind of blurts out the stupid thing about wanting to die buried in all the money he will hoard one day...... the way he can’t help but flinch away as inej holds his gloved hand...... that deep exhale and the look in his eyes as she leaves......

somebody send help i want another season of preferably just crows. ive got the crows brain rot. 

also david noooo why couldn’t you hide together with genya??? good god i swear he could’ve survived but no genya was not spared by the narrative. also good on her for getting the opportunity to torch kirigan’s body. genya deserved better.  

#also can we get nina and the crows breaking matthias out of prison #i mean i know how it goes in the books #bc im a stupid bitch and i already know all the spoilers #but come on please #thats enough of dead lovers #also i wanna see the ice court heist #which surprisingly i don't know much about? #aside from the fact that kaz almost drowns in the process ig?? #and i want a happier ending for kaz and inej #can we please see those two working through their respective traumas #together #and also alina can go a little apeshit #as a treat #peaches speaking #shadow and bone spoilers

[harley-style]

Reading the Homestuck Epilogues 2 (parts 11-20)

Ayo this time its parts 11-20 lets go!!

⬇️Click here to read part 1 ⬇️

Dave needs john to be way more specific than “you and karkat look cute together”, what a dumbass.

“You make cute friends” nevermind we have TWO (2) dumbasses.

Okay i will admit my bias for davekat is obvious here im sorry ill stop

Well if it makes you feel better dave im also very fucking in a mess about my own identity so

“Because jade” is such an apt fucking description.

JOHN YOU DO NOT FLIP A FUCKING COIN TO CHOOSE WHO YOU DATE W H A T

So this is off to a great start.

I cant even comment on part 12.

Oh no, what?

OH. OH NO. MOTHERFUCKER DONT DO IT.

THE HOE FUCKING DID IT. FUCK.

I’m sorry, they let Dave carry W h a t.

This is unsettling. Props to Dave and Roxy for heartfelt eulogies, but FUCK whatever gamzee’s up to.

Okay i caNNOT read his quirk, im sorry.

JOHN IM GONNA FUCKING STRANGLE YOU

Okay but as someone who 100% knows why dirk did what he did I fully endorse and support John slapping some pointy-shade-bastard’s ass into the fucking concrete. Dgmw i love dirk but. He has made several decisions that i happen to find “not-poggers”.

Oh, fuck. He lost them.

Getting hitched seems a bit too forward but ok

Catch the boquet or else is a red flag, folks.

John you’re right on the nose. I want jade to be happy with dave and kat but the way she’s doing it is. Forceful?

Oh. John and roxy did the. Oh.

Yeah uhm. I also. Really dont adore how davejadekat is going rn.

TEREZI IS THE LITERAL FUCKING BEST SHE’S SO SMART

John is losing it and honestly i dont blame him i would too

Jane. Baby. Sweetheart. N O.

Jane you are literally being so fucking xenophobic right now.

Jesus fucking christ gamzee. And jane. What the fuck.

I really do feel bad for jake. He’s like the butt of the meta joke all the time.

Okay but it concerns me that these kids arent even 30 and theyre thinking about kids? GUYS. YOU’RE YOUNG. CHILL OUT WITH THE CHILD REARING, GOOD LORD ABOVE.

Okay there is a corpse. Oh my god.

Also guys i know im davekat biased but it really is clear to me that out if everyone here they have the healthiest dynamic in that their only flaw is being in denial about there being a relationship. Like. Somethinf that can be fixed if theyre left alone by literally eveyrone else and their issues.

Oh we’re getting political

Yknow, part of why i like reading rn is because its escapism from really heavy issues? Yeah i uhm. Am struggling with part 20. But i love karkat and he is always right so.

Oh is this why davekat fell apart in candy

Why, Jane, don’t you know like calls to like? If you find yourself surrounded by clowns, that’s your own goddamn fault.

And that’s another reading sesh done folks! I’ll be honest I’m losing my goddamn mind. I’m genuinely worried about the fictional politics between these dumbasses and how theyre tearing this family apart. Where the fuck is Mr. Crocker and why is he not policing these kids??? Theyre CLEARLY in over their heads? God….

Okay i know i call them kids when theyre like three years older than i am but still.

Anyway thank you guys for joining me again i hope you had a laugh watching me rage over the homestuck caste being fucking idiots. I’ll see y’all next time in part 3! (Lmk if i should put any tags for y’all to be warned about i am a simple dumbass and cant catch everything)

#homestuck #homestuck epilogues #reading the homestuck epilogues #john egbert #dave strider #karkat vantas #jade harley #jane crocker #jake english #this cast brings me pain #cw unhealthy relationships #tw suicide #bc dirk….yeah. #cw xenophobia #tw corpse #character death #the salt of jane crocker #wait no should i salt jade and just bash jane #like i love jade but she isnt currently it rn #and jane is just #the less said about her behavior the better. #spoilers

[percontaion-points]

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 4

I am thirsty, but I think I just need a little liquid courage to not feel so out on display wearing what I’m wearing.

THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU 1) BUY IT AND 2) GO OUTSIDE YOUR HOUSE IN IT?!

I stand on my tippy toes and scan the line of men parading on stage. I notice the cowboy Ashlee dubbed as her soul mate and next to him is Evan. He looks so uncomfortable—a fish out of water. I should feel bad for him, but I don't. Payback is a bitch.

"The scared Tarzan—that's him." I point to Evan as Patrick makes him spin around for the crowd to really get a good look.

"This is Tarzalicious, my lovelies. Couldn't you just eat him with a spoon?" Patrick asks the party guests eyeing Evan up and down.

You notice how the narration only bothers to have them announce Evan in the “parade of male hotness”? (Ugh, I feel sick just writing that. Please, make it stop.)

Evan turns fifty shades of red.

CAN WE NOT.

Now I have two cheerleaders encouraging me and my heart swells at the prospect.

Chapter 4 summary: Evan and Zoey make their way to the bar, where Zoey starts drinking like a fish. I cannot. Anyway, the gay wonder twins show up and basically pressure Evan into joining a sexy Halloween costume contest for the guys. Despite him saying no. Zoey pressures him into doing it, and he leaves with the gay wonder twins. But not before the twins says that the women's contest is up next!  

As soon as he's gone, a man comes up and starts flirting with Zoey. He introduces himself as Griffin... Scraping the bottom of the name barrel here, are we? Anyway, the entire thing is so stilted and awkward and it makes me wonder if the author has ever had a conversation. Full stop. She acts like she's never once spoken to anybody in her entire life.

Griffin and Zoey get up closer to the stage, where they watch as people parade past. Voting is done by screaming the loudest for people you find the sexiest, so they announce that Evan is the winner. Which makes sense, seeing as how he's the only named character in the contest. The wonder twins put a crown and sash over him, and the grand prize is $500, which is legit not bad.

Evan comes over to Zoey, although at this point, she's just annoyed over his over-protectiveness. She thinks that she might have a chance with Griffin, and doesn't want Evan to ruin it. The two of them give Zoey a pep-talk about her going up onto the stage for the women's sexy costume contest, and the chapter ends there.

Chapter 5

"I don't want to enjoy this dance with you. I was enjoying dancing with Griffin before you so rudely interrupted."

She does know that she can refuse to dance with Evan... right? It's like she has zero agency, and literally just goes with whatever people around her tell her to do, even when she clearly doesn't want to.

"No. Despite what you think, I am just looking out for my best friend. You know, looking out for her best interest, making sure she doesn't do anything stupid, making sure no one hurts her in any shape or form, especially when that form is dressed like a gladiator."

He has a really good point, and it's hard to side with Zoey about this. Mainly because she met Griffin not even five minutes ago, and she's already playing tonsil hockey with him.

I mean, I am a grown-ass woman, and he knows nothing about Griffin.

To be fair, neither do you.

YOU LITERALLY MET HIM FIVE MINUTES AGO. CALM DOWN, GIRL. STOP PLANNING YOUR WEDDING.

"Oh, my God, I am so sorry," Ashlee apologizes, giving herself a V8 forehead smack.

What the fuck. Who the hell calls it that? WHAT GODDAMNED YEAR IS IT?! I don't even remember the last time I saw an ad for V8.

My best friend and I are going to have to have a little talk about his bodyguard assignment.

Soon…very soon.

Chapter 5 summary: Zoey goes over to the wonder twins, where an unholy amount of time is spent with her talking to them before the women's contest starts. And I'm just going to say it: whenever Geoffrey and Patrick show up on the page, my mind kind of starts to do this TV static thing. I literally cannot read this garbage.

Anyway, way too much time is spent on this, especially considering that barely five seconds were spent on the other contest. Nina wins, if anybody gives a shit.

Zoey goes back to Griffin, and he randomly kisses her. They start dancing, but the Evan is like “fuck off, bro. I'm going to dance with her!” This prompts a huge fight between Zoey and Evan that's basically like “You probably shouldn't suck-face with a guy you met literal minutes ago.” “SHUT UP! YOU'RE NOT MY DAD!”

Zoey then randomly thinks about going to prom, and watching her ex dance with, and I quote “the school slut”. They'd gone out for two months before he began to pressure her for sex. When she refused, he called her a “frigid cock-tease”, and quickly moved on. Evan stepped up to the plate when Zoey was left in near tears at the sight of her ex, and Evan danced with her.

Brett and Nina say that they want to go, so Zoey goes to say goodbye to Ashelee. Her latest boyfriend, Collin, promises to get her home safely. Way too much time is spent saying goodbye to the wonder twins. Griffin promises to call Zoey later. As she leaves, Zoey fumes about how shitty Evan is being about her dating. Although, I said what I said about that.

#A Four Letter Word #chapter 04 #chapter 05 #Zoey (A4LW) #Evan (A4LW) #i have no sympathy for you #i'm done goodbye #Let's Not #Griffin (A4LW) #you can't marry a man you just met #What Is Happening #Ashlee (A4LW)

[lovely-jily]

“she hated him!” “nah, she didn’t.”

hi, friends! basically for some context, this takes place after lily’s feelings for james is unexpectedly exposed. i originally wrote it to follow my amortentia one shot, but you don’t need to read that to understand this. as usual, enjoy and send me prompts haha. 

They always said that the line between love and hate was thin, but it couldn't be this thin. It felt like her heartbeat was shaking her entire body as Lily pieced every single piece together. She wasn't reacting to him out of hatred; it was because of her feelings for him. The tingles on her neck, the inability to breathe had nothing to do with hatred at all. She got goddamn butterflies from the git.

She placed her hands on the bathroom sink to steady herself as she looked up at herself. Her face matched the shade of her hair, which was wild and messy. She started to fix it, only realizing that she was doing it to look better to stupid Potter. She let out a sound of frustration, hitting the sink.

"How the flying fuck did this happen?" She stomped her foot. She had never been more furious with anyone than she was at herself at that moment.

The door opened, and in walked the first and the last person that Lily wanted to see.

"Go away."

"Now, Lily-"

"Don't call me that. Go away."

"Listen, I know that-"

"No, you listen, James Potter," she looked up at him, her hands on her hips, "I absolutely hate you."

His eyes widened, "Oh really?"

She nodded, "Yes. Completely."

He smirked a little, raising his chin. She hated when he did that.

"Yes, Potter," she walked towards him, jabbing her finger into his chest, "I hate your arrogance and that little strut you do in the quidditch pitch. You truly think that people only come to the games to watch you play in your whole outfit."

He leaned against the sink, trying his hardest to look at her intently and fight off a smirk. Lily hated that he looked so hot right now, "Well, what other reason is there to come to the games? Everyone knows how good I look in that uniform."

"Oh!" Lily let out a frustrated shriek as she rolled her eyes, "See, that is that narcissism that I absolutely hate, and I hate even more how you don't even try to mask it! Not everyone is going to get in your pants!"

His expression softened to a more genuine one as he placed his hand on her bicep, "Now, Lils, everyone knows that those are all just a laugh, I'm not actually serious-"

She shoved his hand off of her, ignoring how her arm craved his touch after it was gone, "Don't call me that. And that's the thing, Potter, is that I hate how you can't take any form of accountability! I hate that you just assume that everyone is fine with all your pranks and laughs and jokes."

He cocked his head to the side, placing his hand on his hip, "Go on, Evans, what else do you hate about me?"

She was enraged that he thought this whole thing was funny, "We haven't got the time, but while I'm thinking about it, I hate your intolerable inability to take anything seriously."

He smirked, head still tilted. He glanced her up and down. She had calmed down just a little, but he could still feel the rage coming from her, "Oh really?"

"Yes, and I hate that smirk of yours!" she said as she shoved his face with her palm, "Also, I absolutely cannot stand how obnoxious you are."

He ruffled his hair, smiling now. He was not even attempting to hide his amusement anymore, "Oh, I see."

"I hate how you wear your uniform," she gestured to his rolled-up sleeves and yanked his carelessly tied tie, so it became undone, "and I hate how you're better at Transfiguration than me."

"That one's not your fault, no one can beat me in Transfiguration, so there really is no point in trying to beat yourself up over it. But go on."

"Okay, fine." She straightened up and matched his eye contact, almost challenging him, "I hate that smirk of yours, and I hate how you mess up your hair all the time. And don't even get me started on that stupid jaw thing that you do when you're concentrating."

"Ooh, good one," he pursed his lips.

"Shut up. I hate how nice you are to all the first years, and I hate loyal you are to your friends. I hate how you look when you first wake up, and don't even get me started on your voice. I hate how sweet you can be at times, and I hate the way that your eyes look when you're tired."

She knew what she was saying, but she honestly didn't care anymore. She had just now come to the conclusion that she was tired of hating James Potter.

"I hate how jealous I get when you talk to other girls, and I hate how I like the way you look in that ridiculous uniform."

James had the urge to shout out that he knew she liked him in his quidditch uniform but decided that he wanted what she was saying much more and didn't dare make a move, in fear that it would stop her.

"I hate that I get butterflies around you, and I hate the way you make me feel, James Potter," She had completely relaxed now (although her face was back to a raging color of red, just for different reasons) and was glancing up, not looking at him. She sighed, "I hate the way you say my name, and I hate how I feel when you say it too. I hate how attractive you look with your uniform like that, and most of all-"

She looked at him, shy. He had a look of pure genuine and love about his face, and she couldn't help but smile slightly at it, "Most of all, James, I hate the way that you snuck up on me the way you did."

James bit his lip slightly, driving Lily insane. She supposed that she hated that as well. There was a few moments of quiet, leaving Lily uncomfortable. Was he really going to sit there and do absolutely nothing after all that?

"I hate how stupid you are too and how you're completely leaving me hanging-"

James didn't let her finish. He pulled her towards him by her hips so quickly that Lily didn't know what happened until his lips kissed hers. It was hard, passionate, and Lily loved every second of it.

"So, Evans," James said softly after a few moments of embracing, "Did you hate that too?"

#jily #harry potter fanfiction #jily fic #jily fandom #jily headcanon #jily fanfiction #jily textpost #jily fluff #jily oneshot #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar headcanon #wolfstar #wolfstar fluff #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #remus lupin #lily x james #james x lily #james potter #james potter x lily potter #james potter x lily evans #remus lupin x sirius black #sirius black x remus lupin #sirius black #lily evans #lily potter #mauraders era #mauraders #maurauders fanfic

[sweeterthansammy]

What Are We? || Sirius Black

Young!Sirius Black x Fem!Reader; Reader plays the role of Sirius’ ‘plaything’.

Genre: Angst & Fluff

Written in third person point of view. 

Summary: When pushed away in front of his friends, Y/N questions where her relationship with Sirius stands.

Warnings: Smoking, sexual innuendos (little to none in the beginning), brief mention of alcohol consumption, & mild language

Word count: 2.0k

Removing the cigarette from in between her lips, she let out a thick ball of smoke, running her tongue along her bottom lip before taking another pull. She rested against the edge of the Astronomy Tower, watching as the stars twinkled against the pitch black sky. 

Godric, where is he? It’s been over twenty minutes, she thought to herself, stepping on whatever remained of her cigarette once it hit the floor. 

“There you are! I was just about to leave,” she exclaimed, greeting Sirius with a hug.

He smelled strongly of sleeping draught, earning a furrow to the eyebrows from Y/N. It wasn’t his usual scent - sugary smoke. And then her eyes trailed further down, landing on the tiny mark beneath his jawline. Surely it was a hickey, yet she disregarded it. She hadn’t seen Sirius for over two nights.

He said that they were just “laying low,” as he didn’t want everyone to know that they’d been sneaking around for a few months. She looked back into his eyes and as he opened his mouth to speak, she attached her lips to his, easily pushing him against the cold stone-wall of the tower.

-

“Pads, don’t tell me that you don’t see the way Mooney looks at Minerva,” Peter chuckled, taking a sip of the fire whiskey in his flask.

“Shut up,” Remus groaned, frustratedly running his hands over his face.

“You’re only telling him to stop because you know it’s true,” James elbowed Sirius, the three boys erupting into a fit laughter all while Remus’ face grew red as a tomato.

Hearing her voice from the front door, the boys easily grinned to themselves, wanting nothing more than to tease Sirius for seriously falling in love with someone. Only they knew about Sirius’ deep infatuation with Y/N, yet he found it so hard to set his pride aside and just admit it to her.

“Hey, boys,” she mumbled, giving the boys their individual forehead kisses as she always did. 

As a greeting and a goodbye, they received forehead kisses. They wouldn’t trade it for the world. I mean, who would? Passing up a forehead kiss from the hottest girl at Hogwarts was something that someone stupid enough would do.

As she laced her fingers with Sirius’ raven locks, he tensed beneath her, cheeks flushing a bright pink as she leaned into his side, placing her forearm against the nape of his neck. Instinctively, his arm wrapped around her waist, protectively pulling her body closer to his.

Hearing a few snickers from the other boys instantly brought him back to reality, his eyes widening as he dropped his hand from around her waist. Y/N particularly chose to not be phased by the sudden change, continuing to engage in her discussion with James and Remus. She felt her chest tighten and her throat go dry when Sirius pushed her figure away from his.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

She glanced at Sirius abruptly before turning back to the boys, only to find that he was staring right into her soul.

Does he want me or not?

As the hour of 4 o’clock approached, she said her goodbyes to the boys, claiming that she was providing other students with help in Defense Against the Dark Arts, ignoring Sirius as he held his arms out for a hug. She simply walked away, not saying a word to the big black dog as she found her way out.

“And you, Sirius Black, have fucked up big time,” James stated, tutting as he slapped his hand onto Sirius’ back.

“W-what’d I do wrong?”

“Oh you goddamn idiot! You pushed her away from you when she was near you,” Remus explained, shaking his head as he folded his arms in front of his chest.

Sirius’ face dropped in realization, putting his head down while all of the boys urged him to make it up to her.

“I’m pretty sure that she hates me now, makes no sense trying to make anything up to her.”

“Sirius, you’re so utterly stupid, I have never been more amazed,” Peter sighed. 

All of the boys turned to him, eyebrows furrowing.

“Look who’s talking,” Sirius mumbled to himself, earning a snicker from James and Remus and a punch to the arm from Peter.

“She’s in love with you. I don’t know if there’s something wrong in your little head or if you can’t see the signs, but she would do anything for you. She’d literally die for you before anyone else,” Peter went on even further, trying to somehow make it make sense to Sirius. “All you have to do is acknowledge the fact that she’s trying to show you that she loves you. Stop pushing her away or else she’ll be gone for good.”

“And when did you suddenly become Cupid, Wormy?” James retorted, ignoring the deadly glare he was currently receiving from his best friend.

“But he is right, Padfoot. She left after a minor action, imagine what’ll happen when something more damageable happens,” Remus chimed in, looking back and forth between Sirius and Peter.

“So...w-what do I do? Do I just leave a bunch of flowers at her door and say sorry?” Sirius asked, allowing his tongue to toy with his teeth. 

“Why do women even go crazy over you?” James asked, squinting his eyes at Sirius.

“I’ve never been in a serious relationship!”

“I, for one, can definitely tell! You don’t just get her things, she’ll think that you want to buy her love. Think of something heartfelt. What does she like to do? Take her out on a date after figuring that out. Play with her hair, stargaze with her - I don’t know, just do something meaningful with the girl!” 

Everyone looked at James, stunned by his suggestion.

“Lily’s rubbing off on you, aye?” Peter asked.

“Well, she’s given me a few tips for when I’ve pissed her off,” James explained quickly and quietly. “Beside that, do you understand what I’m telling you, Sirius?”

All of the boys turned their attention to him, supportively patting his back while muttering words of motivation.

-

Astronomy Tower at 8? - Sirius

Y/N clutched dearly onto the note that Sirius had attached to his owl, sending the owl back once she’d given it a few feathery strokes to the head. Kicking back and laying in her house’s common room, she engaged in a conversation with a few boys that she was closer to than anyone else in her house - Orion, Gilderoy, and Augustus.

“So, what does it mean when a boy pushes you away? He shows all of the signs that he likes you but then he just changes and...doesn’t want to be near you at all.”

“Well, for one, he’s either in denial of his feelings for you,” Augustus started.

“Or two, he’s not interested in you at all and he just wants to be friends,” Orion continued.

“Oftentimes, it’s the first one - he’s not really sure of what to do about his feelings,” Gilderoy explained.

“Now, is this about Sirius Black - your best friend, boyfriend, whatever he is? Because if it is, then we cannot help you at all. He’s a closed book so it’s harder to tell where he wants to stand with your relationship.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Orion,” she groaned, remembering when everyone had teased her back in their third year when they had first discovered that she had a crush on Sirius. 

“Whatever he is, we all know that you two are in love but you’re afraid to admit it, more so Sirius than you.”

“And how do you know that?”

She peered down at Augustus, leaning on her elbows to get a glance at the trio sitting on the floor.

“Have you not seen the way he looks at you on a day to day basis?!” Gilderoy’s eyes were practically bulging out of its sockets as he looked at her in disbelief.

“How does he look at me?” 

Oh, how young and naive she was.

“He basically eye fucks you in every class that we have together,” Orion said bluntly, nonchalantly leaning back so he was resting against the foot of a sofa.

Her cheeks grew a bright shade of pink, her eyes widening for a moment before she turned back to the boys. 

“He asked me to meet later...what do I do?” she asked, panic clearly written on her face. 

“Go, silly! He obviously wants you to know that he’s got some sort of feelings in his heart bottled up for you,” Augustus suggested, leaning back onto Orion. 

She smiled at them, thanking the three of them for the advice.

-

A heavy trench coat kept her warm as she waited for Sirius, the rain coming down harder and harder.

I can’t do this again.

She was about to leave, droplets of rain soaking her from head to toe when she felt a pair of hands firmly position themselves on her waist.

“Sirius, I’m tired of doing this! I can’t keep coming up here and waiting for you!”

She competed with the sound of the rain pelting down onto the stone padded floor.

“Y/N, I-I need to tell you something,” he said, holding onto her wrists as she tried to pull away from him.

“What is it?!” she asked, trying to fight the tears that were flooding her eyes.

“The moment I laid my eyes on you, I fell in love. I knew I would love you forever. I didn’t know that I would have fallen in love with you any harder than I already had. Please, I need you to be by my side no matter what happens. Will you be my girlfriend?”

She was stricken by his words, her waterlines beginning to fail and letting her tears flow, mixing with the raindrops that lay upon her face. 

“Sirius, before I give you an answer, answer me this - why don’t you like being seen with me in public? You claim to have loved me so much yet I can’t figure out why you seem to be bothered by my existence half of the time.”

She watched as he dropped his head, sighing as he looked back up. 

“I never meant to make you feel that way. I-I thought that if I’d just push my feelings for you aside, it’d help, but...” he paused, motioning his arms around them. “Clearly it didn’t.”

“One more thing.”

“What is it?” 

“The hickey...the sleeping draught. Sirius, I know you were out with another girl, don’t even try to lie to me. You promised me that it was me and me only, even before you asked me to be your girlfriend. Why couldn’t it just be me?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I mean it. I just needed to get you off my mind for a couple of days but no matter who I was with, it wasn’t you so it didn’t help with anything. Y/N, I love you with all of my heart and I’m truly, truly sorry.”

With the soft look that rested on his face - the tip of his nose red, eyes glossy with tears, lips soft and pink - she couldn’t say no. She easily wrapped her arms around his neck, perfectly molding their lips together in a soft kiss.

His large hands dispersed over her back, holding her tightly to his body as they kissed under the rain. With a flick of his wand and a quick mutter of the word “apparition,” they appeared in the center of his dorm room, the boys laying in their own beds.

“So...I’m assuming she said ‘yes’?” Remus questioned, flipping the page of the book that rested in his lap.

“I had to. The eyes made me feel so weak,” she chuckled, sniffling as she wiped the teardrops and raindrops from her cheeks.

“Well, he is a dog after all. Their specialty is manipulating with the eyes,” James snickered.

“No it’s not,” Remus argued, eyes still pasted to his book. 

Taglist: @thatcatsit @apieceofuniverse @oleariaux @zhangyixingxing1 @arianabrashierstuff @ficticiouscreativity @milazka @snoopydoop1 @hufflrpuffforfred @adoregin @ilovejjmaybank @eunoia-kth @mrspadfoot4 @akalittletimmytim @kaitieskidmore1 @amourtentiaa @ftwert @wholebigboxofyikes @lainerain17 @cami05sworld @tomshollandz @taysiasworld @canibeoneofthepogues

#sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black imagines #sirius black angst #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #harry potter #marauders hp #marauders #marauders era #platonic!remus lupin x reader #platonic!james potter x reader #platonic!peter pettigrew x reader

[transhorrors]

holds mic out... actually there's nothing i would love more than hearing you talk about fandom's views of how trans men are allowed to exist in both fandom and transformative works :)

bestie............... thank you

honestly, doesn't it always come back to a/b/o and mpreg? and i felt this way before i was consciously trans and it's only gotten more pronounced as i've pushed forward into the non-fanworks world of fiction writing. there's a distinct lack of trans characters in both, but there is an especially noticeable lack of visibility and representation for ftm/transmasculine characters. i've speculated a lot about why this is (best i can come up with is the societal fear of a surprise phallus is greater than the surprise of a lack thereof, but this is a really hard thing to articulate and incredibly nuanced, and it'll take me way off topic), but people in general are just incredibly adverse to writing trans male characters, in particular trans male adults. adults who hold positions of power and adults who have sex and adults who fuck up.

and trust me: i have tried to read a/b/o. i have tried to understand the appeal. but i'm just like, goddamn, why are so many girlies choosing wet ass when you could just write a trans character and fucking have your cake and eat it too! trans men have dicks, natural and surgically! if you're that obsessed with needing two cocks, you can still have that with a trans character, and you don't need this gross, cissexist trope that requires ass pregnancies.

and that segues nicely into how fandom writes characters when they are actually written as trans which is... still woof. because it's never just normal. 80% of it is pregnancy whump, "woe to me, for i, a transsexual, am pregnant, and this is the worst thing that could ever happen to me". obviously there's nuance to this (hell, when i was a teen i wrote a polyam series where my trans character got pregnant. i also wrote a lot more porn than angst, though, it wasn't just endless angst), but when that's all there is?? and when it's not pregnancy angst, it's g or t-rated, which, fine, whatever, but why can't we have casual pwps? why is it so hard to get casual explicit stuff with a ftm character? fandom is full of all kinds of weird porn, but i have actually gotten yelled at by Fandom Girls for asking why people write a/b/o over making a character ftm lol.

obligatory "if people aren't comfortable writing trans characters, i would obviously rather ignore their weird cis porn than have to suffer through shitty trans fetishization". but also. people should learn how to write trans characters, in fandom and in general. a character can (and, imo, should) be trans without that being the whole plot. the problem is trans people still exist primarily as inspiration/tragedy porn in the cisgender eyeballs, and so we don't get to just... be a character. we don't get to have casual sex or get put into cutesy little au's or any of that.

(that's also why i'm happy that my chris/adrian series has been doing well because like..... this is not meant as shade to anyone in the ao3 tag. but right now, besides me, there's, like, 2 other trans adrian fics that i would go back and reread. everything else is a/b/o, and one tagged as "mpreg" that i refuse to touch on principle. but the two good ones are i think both t-rated. we have far more fic for breeding kink, which, fine, whatever. and i really want other people to write trans adrian, because i think combining his obsession with identity makes him FASCINATING to write as trans, and i want people to get fun and freaky with explicit stuff like they do when they write him as cis, but also i trust a maximum of 5 or 6 writers to do that decently. and at this point, i've dissected and analyzed so much fucking trans media that i just emotionally and mentally cannot. spare the time of day for people who are still doing it objectively wrong. lol)

#kdjfnsdkjgdgsnj genuine thank you because i feel like i keep. alluding to this frustration #without properly articulating it #this got embarrassingly long but! thank you for opening the dam now it's out of my system #and also trans people can write whatever they want. we're all working through our weird shit. but ao3 at least feels #very fandom mom/female dominated. im in the habit of checking the profiles of everyone i read now lol

[pascalpanic]

Cigarette Daydreams

Pairings: young Javier Peña x young f!reader

Inspiration: Cigarette Daydreams by Cage The Elephant

Summary: Javier drives all night in the rain, wondering what went wrong and where. How he lost you, the one woman he’d ever loved. 

W/C: 5.4k

Warnings: language, talk of death, lots of talk of sexual content but nothing explicit, lots of angst, emotions are running high here, talk of poor mental health. this handles some heavy topics so please be warned. set in the 60s so there’s a really brief mention of being drafted. 

A/N: So this is a song I like but it’s really emotional, as is this fic. I just wanted to explore what Javier would’ve been like when he was young. It’s not necessarily all in chronological order but I kind of think it makes sense... let me know if it doesn’t. thank you to all my friends/beta readers who helped me with this one, like @leonieb, @feelingmadclever, @theteddylupinexperience, and a bunch of others :)

Javier smoked his first cigarette with you. It would become a lifelong addiction: the cigarettes, that is. You, on the other hand, were a yearning he could never satisfy. An addiction is something you can feed; you can dull it by giving it exactly what it wants. Javier wanted you, still wants you desperately. The difference is that he cannot have you. 

It’s been years since he last saw you. Since he last heard your enchanting laugh, smelled the warm scent of your hair product as he kissed the top of your head. He thinks about you all the goddamn time. What life would be like now if you hadn’t gone your own way. He misses you like hell, but he’s sure you’re off and married and conquering the world in your own way. He’s never tried to find out. He’s too scared it’s true. 

-

Laredo was more of the place you told people you hailed from. The name was recognizable, easily: oh, you’re from the place where A&M’s other campus is located? Exactly, you’d respond, and it was much less of a hassle. In reality, you and Javier both grew up in a small community out in the farmlands near Laredo. 

You’d grown up with him. Everyone in the town knew you, and they knew Javi equally as well. He was an interest of your community: from the day you took those standardized tests in second grade, everyone knew that Peñita was going places, but his temper held him back. His emotions consumed him. 

He was blonde as a baby; you’d seen in photos, scattered around Chucho’s house. His hair gradually grew darker as he grew older, and your classmates all teased him. You didn’t remember a time where his hair was lighter than a dark blonde, being a child yourself. But it was an evolution that matched him, you had come to realize in your adult years. 

Not only was he smart, he was a born athlete. Javier was always a bit smaller than the other boys, but damn was he quick. He could run and run and no one could match him. That’s what made him so successful in early football training. From the start, Chucho enrolled him in football, despite Alejandra’s weak protests. She gave in when she saw her baby in a helmet and massive shoulder pads, grinning at her with one front tooth. 

You and Javier were not in the same circles as children. He played with the boys on the field, always the running back when they played football or the offense when they played soccer. He had a temper, though. If there was ever a scuffle on the soccer pitch, you could bet Javier was one of the fighters. You, on the other hand, sat in the shade of the elementary school building, reading book after book. 

His mother was beautiful. She had long dark hair that smelled of something exotic and warm, and she had a smile with a dimple in one cheek. She brought treats to your class on his birthday, which was in November. She read books to your class on her assigned story days, Javier cuddled into her side. He adored her. 

Alejandra Peña died when you were in sixth grade. You can remember the way the class was silent the next morning, Javier’s desk empty. You nearly threw up from the emotion when you heard that she was gone. Your eyes blurred with tears. The loss was inconceivable to your twelve-year-old brain. 

You rode your bike past his house that night. There was a lamp on in the room you knew to be his. His silhouette paced back and forth through the small, second-floor bedroom. You didn’t know what you could do or say, and so you rode off through the neighborhood. 

His hair grew even darker after that. What had been a dark blonde became a light brown as middle school progressed. His anger flared up. He would throw punches when the kid acting as referee made a call Javier deemed to be bullshit. 

You were something different. Javier found you fascinating the first time you truly interacted, seated together for a class. You were fourteen then, his face just starting to grow a bit of dark hair on his jaw. You were absorbed by your books, hardly talking to anyone and even sneaking it under the table during lectures. 

One day, he called your name to catch your attention. You didn’t notice it, lost in your own world. He snatched the book from your hands and slammed it on the table. “Hey. Princesa, we got work to do.”

You frowned. “Give it back, Peñita.”

“Only after we finish this assignment. I don’t want homework tonight.” He stuffed the book in his backpack and tossed you a pencil. 

“I won’t do it until you give it back,” you bartered coolly, crossing your arms and sitting back in the chair. “And I have more willpower than you. That’s a fact.”

He glared at you for a moment, the both of you staring the other down. It lasted quite a while, more than you expected. Javier broke first, handing you your book and grumbling over the worksheet. 

You became better partners after that. Javier even apologized for it two weeks later. You forgave him, and something about his smile made your heart flutter around in your ribcage. 

That started the friendship. You’d walk together in the halls, chatting about your parents and sports and homework for the night. Then middle school became high school and things changed between you, even though nothing you did was different.  

Javier had always been a good athlete. He became the first-string running back for the high school, leading them to state his freshman year. When you walked together in the halls now, there was an expectation from the others. Boys and girls only walked together if they were couples, and a star football player was a coveted date. 

You’d explained that to him. “Javi, as much as I love you, and you know I do, people are gonna think we’re together. I don’t want you to have to deal with that,” you’d pleaded. “I’d be ruining your chances. I think it’s better if we walk separately now.”

Javier nodded. He had to play along. He couldn’t let you know that in the past few months, he’d begun to feel things for you he’d never felt before. He had dreams about you at night, the kind where he’d wake up to damp sheets. He’d noticed your body changing, and his changed too. He thought about you when he’d lie awake at night, his hand in his boxers. The hormones were beginning to pump through Javier’s blood in a way that may have never really ever stopped. 

From then on, you’d walk alone in the hall. Your nose was buried in a book at first, navigating it alone. Then you’d made friends, and you’d talk with people as you slammed your locker shut. You’d give Javier a wave, leading him to be roughhoused by his teammates who took him in as one of their own. 

You became different from him. You were known for being an artist and a writer. You embraced the loving spirit of the 60s’ culture and made warm oil paintings of fields and flowers, wrote poetry that won awards, and even wrote a collection of short stories. You weren’t a hippie, but you were artsy. Javi became a bit of a jock. 

The pressure grew to be too much in the middle of Javier’s junior season. It was the end of fall. You were both 17. You’d stopped maintaining a friendship now, far from as close as you’d been in the earlier days. You waved at him in the hall and that was it. It changed when the stress of being an athlete pushed on Javier’s brain until it popped. He quit the team, spending his time after school in his bedroom at home. He no longer proudly wore the team’s t-shirts or his letter jacket. 

You heard about it through rumors. You didn’t talk to Javier. He kept his head down in the halls now. There were dark circles under his eyes. He’d sit in the library for hours, forcing himself to cram knowledge into his brain. If he wouldn’t be going to college for football now, he figured, he’d better get smart fast. 

You’d sat at a table across the library as you worked on your chemistry homework. You glanced up. Javier looked down. He’d been looking at you. You stared at him until he looked up again. “Can I sit with you?” You’d mouthed, and he nodded. A small smile graced his face. 

Packing up your textbook and papers, you dragged a chair over. “Hi, Javi,” you said. Your voice was quiet and painfully soft. 

He smiles a little. “Hey, princesa.”

It’s quiet for a moment, the both of you staring at your papers and pretending like you were working. You weren’t. “I missed you,” you finally admitted after the silence passed. 

His heart skipped a beat. “I missed you too. Probably more than you missed me.”

You shook your head. “I was wrong. I liked walking with you in the halls. I miss that, I miss us,” you admit, your hand resting over his. He looked up at you with the big brown eyes you’ve always loved, and your smile softened. “Your hair is so dark now, Peñita.”

He nodded a little. “It just keeps going. I don’t know if it will ever stop.”

“You’re funny,” you chuckled and retracted your hand. “How have you been? I heard about the football thing.”

He sighed softly. “It was too much. Not me, not anymore. I hated it.”

“Who are you now, then?” You asked quietly. 

He looked up at you. “I don’t know.”

You’d smiled. “I can help you find out.”

-

That’s how your friendship began again.

It wasn’t a friendship for long, not with how you noticed Javier had changed. His hair was that warm, dark, chocolate color, his nose finally fit his face, he’d grown stronger and leaner and taller. He’d acquired a different sense of confidence, a different posture and walk. But it was clear: he was still your Javi. The one who stole your book all those years ago. 

You’d grown even more beautiful over your time apart, he noticed. You’d become self assured and confident too and it showed. You had a little mean streak, and Javier loved it more than life itself. He got a little weak at the knees when you’d tease him. 

He’d become a social outcast, essentially abandoning his place in the social hierarchy that high schools provide. When you knocked on his door a few days later, Chucho answered, slightly confused. “Hello.”

“Hi,” you said, smiling apologetically. “I’m a friend of Javi’s, I’m here to study with him.”

The older man was a mirror of Javier many years from now. He had a strong nose too, and a worn face. It made lines when he’d smiled. “I didn’t know Javi had many friends anymore.”

You shrugged. “Well, I think you’re right. But… I’m here.”

Javi jogged down the stairs, frowning when he saw his father at the door. You came inside and studied and Javier couldn’t help but to beam at you. Studying wasn’t much of studying. As you’d sidetracked the work and started conversing, Javier leaned in as if he was going to kiss you. You stopped him, but kept his face close. “Not now, Javi. I want it to be perfect. But I do want to kiss you.”

He’d panicked when you’d stopped him, but your words reassured him, and he breathed a chuckle. “Sneak out with me tonight.”

You agreed. 

12:30 A.M. rolled around. You pocketed a pack of your dad’s cigarettes and a lighter and rode your bike to the pond nearby. 

Javier sat there waiting. He was wrapped in a leather jacket, jeans covering his long legs as he sat by the side of the pond. Crickets chirped and birds called and when he looked at you, your heart fell apart in your chest. It never really glued itself back together. Not even to this day. 

You sat next to him, and he put an arm around your shoulders. You couldn’t wait any longer, and you leaned in and kissed him and he was absolutely perfect. His soft lips pressed back against yours, those hands buried themselves in your hair. You broke away a second later and both of you grinned at each other. It was only seconds more before he pulled you in for the second kiss you’d ever had in your life. 

That night was not only Javier’s first kiss but the first time he smoked a cigarette. You pulled one thin stick from the pack and placed it between his lips, lighting the end. 

He was a natural at it, unlike you, who’d tried before and choked and spluttered on the smoke. You were better at it now, able to handle yourself. He breathed in and out and passed it to you, and he looked so effortlessly cool and sexy and beautiful that you didn’t take a drag, you grabbed his face and kissed him again. 

You were so many firsts for Javier. His first kiss, his first cigarette, his first fuck. You’d done it in the back of his truck, on a hot night where you parked in a field far from the town and rolled all of the windows down. You finally got to feel his strong body, got to feel his passion for you as he tugged on your lip with his teeth and pushed inside of you. It was sheer bliss for both of you, even if he never made you orgasm that night. 

It didn’t take long for the two of you to figure that out. Javier was a natural, his hands wandering and feeling everything your body had to offer until they found just the right spot to make you cry his name into the hot Texas night. You snuck out with him often, smoked and fucked in his house when Chucho was gone, or by that pond. 

You talked a lot after. You were the first he opened up to about his mother. He missed her like hell. He told you that he wanted to work in some kind of law enforcement. He thought drug enforcement might suit him. You opened up about your own trauma to him, and he held you as you cried into his body. He’d kissed your forehead and told you he promised that nothing would ever happen to you when he’s around, and it was completely believable because Javier was like some deity to you. He was strong and warm and loving and kind and beautiful and you thought, truly, that he could do no wrong. 

He never betrayed that trust either. Javier was a wonderful boyfriend to you in the daylight hours too. You’d study together, go on bike rides or just drive around in his truck. You spent almost every weekend with him. Chucho adored you too, loved your humor and kindness and most of all, your love for his son. Your family didn’t like Javier much, so you simply avoided your house with him. 

Javier was so proud when he first pulled up your driveway in his truck soon after you began again. He worked for the Villafañes down the road as a farmhand, a summertime assistant to the aging man who lived there. He saved his earnings all summer and split the cost with Chucho. He’d had it for 8 months and it had been on the verge of the junkyard the entire time. 

It was a piece of shit, and you both knew it. It was a deep red, rusty and broken down. The shocks were terrible and made it bounce like a bull in a ring. It didn’t matter, because it was his.

He’d pick you up in that truck and drive all night. The two of you sang along to the radio, then would talk, then make out in the backseat and drive again. You loved Javier, and you admitted it quickly. He said it immediately after you. 

People looked at you like you were crazy when you held Javier’s hands in the hall. Wasn’t he a mental case? Who would give up something like he had, and for no apparent reason? You didn’t give a shit, even if your friends told you Javier was no good. They didn’t know him, didn’t know that his middle name was Fernando and he hated it and that his mother’s favorite gem, ruby, was yours too, that Chucho told you Javi wanted to marry you someday or that Javier loved to nudge your neck with his nose after sex, both of you warm with the hot Texan air flowing through his open windows. 

You told them they didn’t get it, and they said you were the one who didn’t. You’ve got everything going for you. Why risk it with the nut job?

Javier remained a pariah, an outcast, but you didn’t give a shit. You called out his name in the hall and waved, sat with him at lunch and laughed until you choked on the terrible school meal. You were loud and affectionate, and it brought Javi back from the fringes of high school society he’d been banished to. 

Javier worked in fields and barns to earn money, building his muscles. You worked in customer service, building your restraint. Your town had opened a drive-in restaurant a few years before, complete with roller-skating waitresses. Being a skilled skater, you signed up. 

It was fun, but a pain in the ass some days. Customer service was rarely enjoyable. 

The highlight of the summer after your junior year was Javier pulling up to the restaurant every few days. “Peñita!” You’d squeal and put in an order for just what he always wanted- strawberry milkshake, double patty cheeseburger, large fries. 

“Hey, Princesa,” he’d mumble back with a small smile, leaning in for a kiss. He looked like a Texan James Dean, white t-shirt cuffed and worn jeans. His dark hair was gelled back, though much of it fell loose from his long day of hauling crops for Don Villafañe. This coolness was contrasted by his shitty truck, dust caking the windows, and the fact that he was far from blonde now. 

You’d fold your arms over his open window and kiss him, tripping over your skates in your excitement. He’d laugh and tease you, and he’d always give you the cherry off the top of his milkshake. You began telling your coworkers to put two cherries on top, so that he could have one too. He still gave both to you. 

During your senior year, Javier gave you his class ring. It was large and bulky on your fingers, thinner than his, but it made you beam with pride as you walked through the halls. You’d cried when he gave it to you, promising he’d replace it with a diamond someday. You knew it would never last that long. 

Senior year was uneventful. You went to prom with Javier, wearing a peach colored dress. Javier wore his father’s tuxedo with a tie to match your color. The photo was awkward but sweet, the two of you clearly in love. You graduated equally uneventfully, and the two of you spent the night in his truck, out in a field, promising sweet nothings through the sound of skin slapping skin. “Here’s to the class of ‘66,” Javier murmured into your neck. 

You had big dreams, and Javier’s were far different. He planned on attending Texas A&M, not far away. You’d earned a fantastic scholarship at a small liberal arts college in Upstate New York. You both knew these things, but Javier seemed determined to make it work. He knew the two of you loved each other; shouldn’t that be enough?

You felt guilty the entire summer. You had anxiety attacks quite a bit, felt that you were leading Javier on. Then, another part of you thought, he must know. He must not believe you could pull off a long distance relationship with only letters and phone calls. 

Javier passed the summer blissfully unaware. He was young and in love: he thought there was nothing that could go wrong. You still spent time together, more than you ever had, in fact. Something gnawed away at your insides as the time passed. 

On the rare days neither of you worked, you’d find somewhere deserted and sit with your legs dangling from his tailgate. You’d nick liquor and cigarettes from your parents and share them, laughing and talking. Planning a future you knew wouldn’t come. 

The day before you left, you spent the day with your boyfriend. You had a picnic dinner, complete with some stolen beers from Chucho’s refrigerator. You sat on a blanket in a nearby field, watching as the afternoon dwindled down to an orange-hazed sky. 

As the sun set, tears formed in your eyes. “Javi?” You asked him softly, your voice cracking. 

“What is it, princesa?” He returned, pulling you closer into his side. The tall grass swayed around you, and you bit your lip to stop from choking out a sob. 

“I love you, Javier. And I always will.” But as you said the words, your actions said otherwise. You removed your class ring from your finger, placing it in his palm. “But, I think… I think we need to be our own people for a while. Maybe someday we’ll meet again. Maybe things will be different, but I’m going to New York and you’re staying here. Fuck, you could be drafted, and I-“

Javier stopped you, pulling away and looking at you in the face. His eyes showed his heartbreak. “I thought we were gonna get married, be together forever.”

You choked out a sob. “Javi, I want to. I do. But I can’t. I can’t live that kind of life.” You wanted to travel, to do things, to live freely and be whoever you wanted. Javier wanted to stay in Laredo and work in law enforcement. The two weren’t compatible.

“There’s nothing stopping you,” he begged, taking your hand in both of his. “Please, I’d move to New York with you, or you could go to A&M with me, please,” he asked, his eyes welling with tears. “You’re the love of my life, baby.”

You couldn’t look at him. The emotion was too much to bear. “Javier,” you whined and pulled your hand from his. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

His heartbroken stare makes you cry harder into your hands. You stood, ready to find your way to the road and walk home. 

Javier caught you by the waist, then removed your hands from your face. “I-I understand. I do. But… kiss me one last time?”

You stared at him, tears staining your face and his cheeks equally damp. You nodded and Javier cupped your face, kissing you slowly and lovingly. It was tender and bittersweet. It was not the way you’d kiss him at the drive-in restaurant or in the back of his truck. It was not the way you’d sneak a kiss goodbye in front of Chucho. It was desperate. You both knew what it meant. Maybe that’s why it lasted so long. 

You broke away and pressed your forehead to his before finding the dirt road and beginning the walk home. You needed to finish packing, and was getting dark. You didn’t dare to ask Javier to drive you home. You feared you might change your mind if you were around him a second longer.

-

Javier never saw you after that. It was partially serendipitous and partially out of effort. 

When he returned home on winter break or for Thanksgiving, he contained himself to Chucho’s house, or he’d see one or two friends he still had. That was about it. If he knew you weren’t in town, he’d go out and have a good time. It would all go downhill if you were there, and he knew it, so he resigned himself to long nights with his father. 

You wanted to see him again. You drove past his house many times when you were home from New York, seeing the light on in his old room again. Every time, you stopped just a little longer than you should have at the stop sign yards from his house. You contemplated pulling into the driveway and begging him to take you back. It never happened. 

Once or twice, you even caught a glimpse of dark-chocolate hair through the front windows of the house. It made your heart stop and your eyes tear up. 

You moved out of town when you graduated. You started a career near your college, far from your hometown that was almost considered Laredo. Your wish was fulfilled. 

Javier’s was too- well, only partially. He stayed in Laredo. He worked in law enforcement there for a while before he got picked to work with the DEA. It didn’t matter what kind of job he got. He didn’t have you, and that made him miserable. 

You’d been the one to save him. Now he didn’t even know if you still had the same last name you did when he slipped his class ring onto your finger, when he murmured your full name and promised one day that he’d get you a gorgeous ruby and diamond band instead of that class ring and he’d change that last name to Peña. 

-

Javier got a new truck recently. It’s nice. The first car he ever bought that wasn’t used, actually. It’s a deep red, the same color of his first car. Ruby, he named it. 

He thinks about you all the goddamn time. Nothing could change that, not time or hookups. He sighs as he thinks about the years since you’ve seen him, while he drives around in the pouring rain. Why? How?

He never slept around in college, too lovesick and still hoping you’d call and want to meet with him, would want to rekindle what you’d had. 

He forced himself to get moving after that. He had a few girlfriends when he worked for the Webb County Sheriff's Office. He even got serious with one. 

Lorraine was beautiful and kind and funny. He loved the way she’d shotgun a beer and then kiss him, her lips tasting of the fermented liquid. She was a good time, a great partier. He asked her out and things went well, he supposed. 

She wanted different things from Javier. He’d been starting to grow restless, wanting to leave Laredo. Lorraine, however, wanted to settle down. She wanted the whole thing: a big ranch-style, a fireplace in the living room, four or five babies with Javier’s brown eyes, running around and laughing. 

As much as he wanted it, he couldn’t. He nodded along and played the game, telling her that he’d do that for her. He’d provide for her and give her all the kids he wanted. He’d be a good father and a great husband and everything would be good. 

It was more to himself that he said those things. He wanted to believe they were true, really, but he had the feeling you’d had years ago. He wanted her, wanted such a calming life, but at the same time, he didn’t want it. He wanted to get out and do things and feared being fenced in. 

He proposed to Lorraine. Got her a nice diamond ring and everything. She’d cried and kissed him and he’d forced himself to smile but it wasn’t genuine. At least she didn’t know that. 

The wedding was planned. It was going to be a grand affair for the town, nearly everyone invited. Everyone was like family to the members of the town. Lorraine got an expensive, fluffy white dress and Javier bought a tuxedo. 

The ceremony was supposed to start at 5:00. Everyone sat patiently as the clock ticked past it. They didn’t know a thing. They didn’t know Lorraine was pacing the church basement, her heart clenched in fear. No one had seen Javier. Not even the groomsmen. 

Then it became 5:10, 5:30. At 5:45, Lorraine’s mother began to quietly tell the church that the ceremony wouldn’t be happening today. The disgruntled attendees left, wondering what happened. 

Javier had ran. He drove out of Laredo, straight for Dallas. He wanted out. He’d left early in the morning, not even saying goodbye to his father. He was already on a plane to Washington D.C. when the bride realized she was no longer getting married today. 

He got a job working for the DEA. They’d offered him one a few months ago, but he’d declined. He wanted to stay in Laredo with Lorraine, he’d bluffed. Things hit the fan when he began training for the new job. 

He fucked every woman in sight. He didn’t care who they were: if they wanted him, he wanted them. He never stopped smoking, developed a love and almost dependence on whiskey. When he went to Colombia, he paid for his first ever escort. 

It was what he deserved, he told himself. The one woman he’d ever loved left him. He had left the one person who ever gave a shit about him. Ruined her life and left her with a sense of anxiety whenever she was in that church’s basement as she remembered. 

He doesn’t deserve attachment. He doesn’t deserve someone caring for him. That’s why he sleeps around. That’s why he’s left so many lovers in the dust. 

Stop thinking about that, Javier tells himself. He whips a U-turn, opening the window and hanging a hand out of it. It forces himself to return to reality, to get out of his goddamn head and to not crash this new truck. The rain pelts his skin and he frowns. It never rains around Laredo, and it’s the one night he’s in town. 

He pulls into the old drive-in restaurant, thinking back to the happy days. He can still see your baby-faced grin as you skated over to him, long legs pushing you along. He could nearly taste the strawberry milkshake on his tongue. It’s closed for the night, since it’s in the early hours of the morning now. 

He jumps as a car pulls into the spot next to him. He looks down, knowing that whoever it is will likely recognize him. Everyone recognizes him around here. He’s not in the mood to talk.

“They’re closed,” a voice calls out from the other car, and Javier’s heart stops. He’d know that voice anywhere, even if it spoke a different language. 

He looks up and his eyes meet yours for the first time in twenty years. They’re still just as beautiful, still glimmering. “Peñita,” you breathe out as it clicks in your mind. 

He’s aged beautifully. His dark hair is neatly pushed back, though it’s a little shorter than he used to keep it. His face has lines now, heavy from the stress of his job. His eyes look weary and tired. 

You get out of your car. Javier does the same. You look at him, standing there, with a new truck that’s the same color of his very first piece of shit pickup. “Nice truck,” you comment. 

He smiles softly. “Thanks. It’s new.”

You walk around the front of your car, eyes wide in disbelief. There’s hurt on his face and you know you’re the cause of it. “Javier… I missed you.”

He looks down at you, now standing right in front of him. “I missed you more.”

You throw your arms around him and hug him tight. Your eyes water with tears as you squeeze him, wishing this moment would never end. He hugs you back, those arms still strong and protective. 

He presses a soft kiss to your head. He mutters his nickname for you quietly. His voice is different now, huskier and deeper. It’s a beautiful sound. His lips are buried in your hair but you can hear it all the same. “Princesa.”

-

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