#I am drunk I say things sometimes when I've been drinking

[leroiestmortvivelareine]

'Lack of plot' is a hilarious criticism. Apart from not being true, so what if it were? Plots are for books that don't have Jean Moreau. Plots are for poor, impoverished stories that lack even a single Fox. We will devour 300 pages of nothing but Jean snarking at complete strangers and still beg for more. Give us 300 pages of nothing but Neil cyberbullying Riko under an assumed name, we'll eat it up. We will immerse ourselves in 300 pages of Kevin locked in his own bedroom and seen through even the smallest keyhole, we will never want to emerge. These characters ARE plots. They are the path and the gateway to better versions of ourselves. Don't you see? We're living our lives with them inside of us, we've become the plot.

[antimony-medusa]

But what do you MEAN this fic where blorbo gets mind controlled might be kinky?

So I am kind of famous for saying that this fandom has a lot of untagged kinks and I get people in my notes pretty regularly going YES I"M BEGGING YOU TAG IT or YOU"RE DERANGED THIS IS PLATONIC, etc. Lots of strong emotions. But I also get people who are going uh, I knew something was going on, but I couldn't really identify it— what do you mean exactly? What kinks are you seeing?

So, this post is breaking down things I've seen and how in some cases, they start to cross the line into kink territory. These are all things that were being done platonically— no dicks were out, everybody's clothes were on (in most cases, not always with the dehumanization tropes)— but the focus of the narrative started to place special weight on specific features, experiences, or concepts— there were extended paragraphs that served no narrative purpose except to dwell on something— in a way that I started to go "the point of this fic is the squiggly feeling the author or reader gets on reading about this specific setup— this is getting kinky". And that is fine, I am not placing any moral weight on engaging in kinks— people just get wired sometimes to really like the concept of bondage— but a) sometimes it would be nice to get a heads up as a reader, b) if you like these things— there are tags out there that are FULL of this concept, you might like to do it or search it out on purpose.

So I asked some friends what things have they found in platonic fics that they went "ah. yeah. something is happening here", and this post is the result. A lot of these things don't exist in the real world or people don't necessarily want them to happen in the real world/to them, so it's understandable that a person can miss how they'd started to morph and become something new. But when we talk about kink in fiction we're often talking about things that either can't or we don't want to happen in real life, it's just that reading about them/writing them scratches our brain.

And also, to be clear, in no way do I mean that if you've written these concepts then you definitely have been writing kink. There are vanilla ways to do all of these concepts, and sometimes the idea of dehumanization is interesting to you from a narrative standpoint, for example. You can also engage with them in a non-sexual way— many ace people are very kinky— so I'm not saying that you've secretly been writing porn OR writing something you have a real desire to happen to you. Just to make that clear. However, if you keep coming back to a specific setup for writing or reading, it might be worth investigating if certain things scratch your brain in a specific way.

So.

Blorbo gets mind controlled and there's a detailed breakdown of their descent into this altered state and then they're just so biddable and out of it and vulnerable and the narrative places weight either on someone taking advantage of them in this state, taking care of them, or their own subjective experience having lost control: this is hypnokink. Hypnokink or mind control— lots of ways to do it, but there is a thriving hypnosis or hypnokink scene that you might want to look into. Sometimes this is played for horror, but even the horror stuff can be kinky if played in a certain way. This falls under a larger umbrella of "altered states" that is very popular.

Blorbo gets drugged/intoxicated, often against their will, and heavy narrative weight is placed on their experience while drunk/drugged and unable to control themselves or conceptualize what is happening: this is intox kink. Another altered state— and again this is sometimes used for horror, but even the horror can give you the special tinglies if the dread is mixed with something.

Blorbo is turned into a vampire or taken by a vampire, gets drunk from or drinks blood, and there's specific narrative focus on how good the blood tastes, blood from a wound trickling down over someone's body and maybe being licked up, a hunger being sated— so vampires are a longstanding trope that can be done in a strictly horror way, but a LOT of vampire tropes are deeply kinky along the ideas of possession, loss of bodily autonomy, fear/desire, and consumption. This, for example, I have definitely read dipping into bloodplay or consumption kink. Sometimes blood drinking scenes are directly metaphorical for sex, including narrative tension building to a release where someone feels so good, but also there are other elements, such as a focus on blood that gets kinky.

Blorbo has wings that get preened, and it feels so good they can't hold back instinctive movements and sounds (maybe bird sounds) and they're so grateful and bond so much with the person doing it with them— This is wing kink. This is actually the first trope in this fandom that I identified that some things were happening with, because I was reading these fics that had been recommended to me as family fluff going— am I crazy or is something else happening here? Wingfic has been broadly used as a platonic/familial trope in this fandom, however, the structure of the scenes in which it is written about sometimes has heavy crossover with wingfic in other fandoms, where they are using it as a smut trope— the fic just didn't have anyone literally orgasm at the end. But if there's involuntary sounds or movement from the person with the wings, a focus on how pleasurable it feels, a feeling of release or rightness that someone gives the person with wings, and then they cuddle afterwards— yeah.

Blorbo is terrified and chased by a monster of some kind, with a heavy focus on how frightened they are, how inexorable the monster is, and something bad going to happen, and/or the monster chasing them enjoying their terror— this can just be horror. OR it can be fear play or predator/prey. Sometimes it's both.

Blorbo is confronted by monsters (perhaps giants or aliens) who are much bigger than them and the threat of being eaten by them is narratively focused on, either bitten or swallowed whole. Sometimes in the narrative the eating happens, either safely or to their death— this is vore. Being eaten alive is also a horror trope so it isn't always vore, but it is sometimes most certainly vore.

Aliens or monsters/hybrids much bigger than blorbo have them as family/friends/romantic partners/captives: this is giant/tiny. Sometimes just a science fiction au but if there's a lot of weight being placed on how big they are and how small blorbo is, this could be g/t. Borrower aus can frequently start to fall into this category. If they're not THAT big but there's focus on things like "oh they can span my waist with one hand", this can be size kink, instead. (Note that to my knowledge the platonic version is giant/tiny and sexual is micro/macro— there's a thriving platonic scene I sometimes see when I'm cruising tags, so if you like this you might want to check that out.)

Blorbo is non-consensually touched, cuddled, or modified, and narrative focus is placed on this as a violation/outrage/loss of bodily autonomy: again, this is something that can just be a horror trope, but there is often a larger or smaller strain of consent issues in it. If blorbo doesn't want it at first but eventually feels at home in the nest and feels good, that's dubcon (dubious consent), and if they are fighting it and raging against it and will never be part of your family, that starts to overlap with noncon (non-consent). Blorbo's bodily autonomy is being non-consentually violated, which would put it under the consent issues umbrella. I think many people writing these tropes are simply focusing on captivity and bad things happening to blorbo— when one is a prisoner they automatically lose bodily autonomy, and I don't think that every fic set in a dungeon requires a consent issues tag— and additionally many people are writing from family settings that include bodily autonomy being violated (being forced to hug your aunt you don't want to hug, for example, is an example that many of us have experienced). Not every example of non-consensual touching is always consent issues. However, when the narrative focus is on the outrage and betrayal of it all, the loss of control, and/or the helplessness, this can start to serve a different narrative function in a story than simply illustrating that a family is touchy. I have read scenes that structurally function as a thinly-veiled metaphor for sexual assault, including things like blorbo being held down while they fight against what is being done to their body. Some of these could have used additional tagging. Note: because this is such a hot button topic I should mention that if you like writing or reading this I do not think that means you are a fan of violence happening in the real world— a) reading a bad thing happening on the page makes it containable and controllable in a way that the real world does not, people also like to read about murder and dismemberment— b) simply the presence of a happy ending tag on a fic contextualizes that the bad thing is something to be passed through in a way that again, the real world does not offer. This is a similar thing to torture, suicide, or slavery, where sometimes you want to see blorbo have a bad fictional time specifically in things that would be terrible in real life, and in your real life you do not condone police brutality or want these things to happen. Again, sometimes people like to read about people being eaten alive, and it does not mean they condone wolves on the streets.

Blorbo is captured by alien/fae and kept as a pet, sometimes kept in a cage or collared, unable to communicate with the people holding them: this is often tagged as dehumanization and it is that, but it also starts to contain elements of pet play. If there is an emphasis on having to eat pet food, be "trained" by their owner, leashing/collaring/crating— this may be pet play.

Adult or near-adult blorbo is adopted and take care of by a new dad who knows everything to keep them safe and loves them and can take care of them and they can just let go and be their new sonboy because Dad's got them: Right. So this is sometimes just someone writing a "wouldn't it be nice to be taken care of" fantasy. Sometimes this is Daddy kink. This is almost never tagged and in some cases that I have read it certainly deserves an additional tag. An adult Daddy or Mommy figure taking care of their adult Little who can just be taken care of and not worry is a d/s trope. In some cases, where you have an established adult with a job who gets taken by magical means who then finds their true home as a powerful being's new child where they don't have to worry about their former life and they mentally find comfort in their new role as sonboy, this may also be Caregiver/Little. Direct age regression (often written by people who experience it) is usually tagged appropriately, but narrative elements that nod to that while not actually being age regression, such as an adult being now treated as a child and the narrative presenting that as good, are remarkably common and often entirely untagged in certain tags/circles. If someone could look at your fic and expect adult peers and then this happens, you should consider tagging or phrasing your summary differently.

Blorbo has hybrid instincts that overcome their cognitive functioning and make them revert to an instinctive form such that they can only be calmed/soothed by another hybrid of a different type: now this at this point is basically its own trope and I am fascinated to see if this trope expands out of MCYT as people move to new fandoms. However, it shares a startling amount of overlap with omegaverse. One of the primary draws of omegaverse for many people is the biologically determined altered states and the fated-mates aspect, and hybrids reverting to instincts and needing particular care from a perfect family is often beat for beat things I've read in omegaverse, just platonic. When you have a biologically determined "protector" figure and a biologically determined "runt" whose job is to be taken care of and to submit to the protector, and this is required to calm the protector, it also has strong overlap with BDSM aus.

Blorbo is captured or contained and tied up, and narrative emphasis is placed on their experience of being bound and struggling against restraints or just how impossible to escape from the restraints are: this is bondage. I have had friends who are into this mention that they used to tie up their barbies as children, so again, as with all of these, this can be perfectly platonic— but something about that concept just seems particularly satisfying to the writer, perhaps it is more than just set dressing.

Blorbo is captured and there is strong emphasis on them being hurt or the waves of pain rolling over them as they are tortured: this is just an honourable whump trope, but a lot of whump tropes if handled in a specific way have strong crossover with BDSM. Lack of ability to move or restriction of senses, loss of control— or, as with this, an emphasis on pain or inflicting pain, which can cover sadism or masochism depending on our POV.

Blorbo is overwhelmed and only finds comfort in submitting to the authority of someone who they completely trust, whether because of past trauma or because of hybrid instincts: this is d/s, or domination/submission. If there's specific emphasis on allowing someone to take control finally makes blorbo's head go quiet, that's subspace.

Blorbo is marked or indicated as belonging to someone, either through something like an earring or a brand/tattoo or a magical mark, so that anyone who looks at them will know that they belong to someone: again, this can just be horror, but especially if it's framed as a good/satisfying thing, it also can contain strong crossover with BDSM, especially master/slave elements.

Blorbo is transformed and corrupted, often being bodily changed into a new form by aliens or fae or mobs: this is obviously body horror, but this can also be transformation kink. This is a narrative trope in SF and horror so someone can approach this completely innocently, but when handled in less of a horror way, it can take on other undertones. If there is a strong emphasis on the innocence and unprepared nature of blorbo before being changed into what someone wants them to be, this can be corruption kink as well.

Blorbo dresses up for a fancy event and there's emphasis on how specifically they look, or maybe blorbo is looking at someone else and thinking about how THEY look in their formalwear: sometimes this is just description and/or the author likes textiles. I have also read things where I think the author would get a lot of joy out of pursuing the formalwear kink tag.

Blorbo finally gets told that they did a good job and everyone is complimentary or a specific trusted figure is complimentary, they're appreciated and loved and good: sometimes this is just someone writing a fantasy of blorbo being appreciated. Sometimes this is praise kink. If blorbo is being held by their parent or mentor or trusted elder sibling who is telling them that they're good, everyone is wrong about them, they know that they're good, this could be praise kink.

Touch-starved blorbo finally is given good touch and they are overwhelmed and don't know how to handle it and it feels so good: I did even know this was a thing until I asked for examples, but a friend let me know that this falls under the "touch sensitive" or "sensation play" umbrella. If you have spent time in a touch-starved tag, you have almost definitely seen this.

Blorbo is overwhelmed and bursts into tears and either cries a lot or heavy narrative weight is placed on them crying at important moments when it all becomes too much: this is not always, but can certainly be, dacryphilia.

Blorbo fucks up and is made fun of by all their peers, placed on centre stage and just mercilessly mocked: sometimes you are just whumping the character, and sometimes this can be humiliation kink.

Blorbo is tickled. That's the whole scene/fic. Okay so you actually may know this if you cruise character tags, but tickling is a kink and there are several blogs devoted to it on this website. If the whole point of this scene is the tickling, the character losing control and being overwhelmed, the person doing it to them having them at their control— this may be the kink.

Blorbo just keeps sneezing at inopportune times, they keep losing control and can't keep themselves from being overwhelmed by this: this can be sneeze kink.

Blorbo has finally made it to safety, maybe after a time of privation and starvation, and then there's whole scenes with an emphasis on how much they eat, how full and round they're getting, maybe them eating to the point of getting sick, maybe burping, maybe them having difficulty moving because of how much they've eaten. Food as part of recovery or safety can just be a healing trope, and food as a metaphor for love and community is a favoured tag of many of us in the fandom, but if the emphasis is especially on the eating and the getting full, how full the person feels, how much they can eat— this could be feederism.

Blorbo is injured or killed and there's a huge emphasis on the wounds, dismemberment, focus on gore and how bad it is and how much they're coming to pieces: this can be guro. If the person dies at the end of it and there's emphasis on that, this can also be snuff. Or maybe it's just gore/MCD, but some fics and some scenes dwell on it in such a way that you start to ask if this is intended to be horror or if something else is happening.

Blorbo is dressed up beautifully and looks so good in their new outfit, maybe to the point that the person who dressed them doesn't want them to move, just sit and be admired: this can be dollification, or kinking specifically on being dressed.

Blorbo is going through a medical examination and specific focus is placed on the impersonal aspect, being manhandled or examined by tools or gloved hands, they are the somewhat-dehumanized medical subject of professionals: this is sometimes horror or dehumanization, but it can also be medical kink.

Blorbo and blorbo's friend are ride or die beyond reason, they're a crew, they're found family (not biological), there is Two Of Them (or Five Of Them), they have each other's backs to the end. So loyalty is just a great character beat to hit that people have visited since time immemorial. You can also loyalty kink, when a person refusing to abandon their person(s) just hits just right. I'm not saying that everything under the found family umbrella falls under this, cause it doesn't, but if you have a particular attachment to works tagged [blorbo] & [blorbo] are best friends, or Loyalty, or crew as family, or [blorbo group] is a family but exploring nuclear-family aspects of this is not what makes a fic light up neon in your mind, it might might be worth considering if this is something you'd want to add to your list of likes.

Blorbo is really good at their job, and either respected for it and save the day with their skills or underestimated and show everybody by having the perfect skill at the right moment. More people are tangentially aware of this because of the TV show Leverage, which popularized the concept of "competence porn", or "non-sexual examples of scenes of people being very very good at their job but just makes you oooooo nice job", but if part of what draws you to a character is their niche skillset, or you enjoy stories that turn on characters being masters of their skills, competence kink might be something that resonates with you. Note, this sometimes just overlaps with power fantasies, because not everything in the BAMF [blorbo], tag is focused on competence per say, but if you really love your fave character being skillful, (or alternately, fics in which they are rendered powerless or pathetic tend to grate on you), you might want to explore the competence kink tag.

Blorbo is captured or pinned and rendered unable to breathe, and there is focus on pressure building in their chest, only being able to gasp for sips of air, or the person choking them having power over them, and this is presented as a narrative climax of a scene. This is choking kink, or breathplay. Also can be noted when there is particular narrative fascination with a character's hand at or on another's neck, even if pressure is not being applied.

Blorbo enters the narrative as a dude and is turned into a woman or treated as a woman, whether willingly or unwillingly, and finds this to be either a positive or negative experience. So this is sometimes a gender exploration that is deeply personal to the creator. Sometimes this is forcefem, or forced feminization. Sometimes it's both—exploring that tension between different gender paths can be both emotionally fulfilling and kinky for someone, and that's fine. And again, this can be played for horror or euphoria, but both aspects, if treated a certain way, can be kinky. This is related to a whole family of gender play concepts— for example if dude!blorbo is just dressed in traditionally feminine clothing but is not treated as a woman either by characters or the narrative, it could be crossdressing. If blorbo is a woman being turned into a man, it could be forcemasc. I want to emphasize again that breaking down gender lines is often something someone embarks on for their own gender reasons— AND it's a popular trope across many forms of media— so it's not always a kink. But it's useful to point this one out both because if you bring it up outside of circles where it's normalized, it may not be viewed as appropriate, because these are not the bog-standard ways that everyone approaches gender, presentation, identity, societal expectations, etc, and also because if someone out of the blue asks you for this trope, it's good to be aware that they might be, (whether knowingly or unknowingly), asking for fetish content.

__

So. As you can see. There are a lot of possible kinks that can be handled in a platonic way, but this doesn't mean they aren't kinky. This isn't even everything possible, this is just what came up when I asked the group chat what they personally have seen where they feel that a platonic fic could have used additional tagging.

I am not saying that any of this is wrong to be interested in these kinks, either. People get wired a lot of different ways and sometimes you just feel a certain way about formalwear. Or bondage. Or vore. Or tickling. My point is just that if any of this resonates with you, you might want to consider adding extra tags to your work (you don't even have to tag "humiliation kink," "humiliation" works just fine), and you also might want to consider checking out some tags, because there is probably a vibrant community of people who also like that and who would both love your work and would love to share their work with you.

That's it. Go with god. Now if people are going to be in my notes going HOW CAN SOMETHING PLATONIC BE KINKY I have something to link them.

[hirukochan]

Can I please request a snape smut fic? The reader and him have been friends since school and she is in love with him only he does not know it or realize his feelings till Sirius is flirting with her and it leads to a fight between them leading to them confessing to their feelings. Maybe some dirty talk biting and rough smut

Sooo...I got a bit carried away with this...definetly not the roughest smut I've written, but I hope you like it anyway.

Severus and his sunshine

Pairing: Severus Snape x fem!reader

warnings: Smut, loss of virginity

Wordcount: 7402 (oops...)

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

“To the youngest Professor in the history of Hogwarts!” You cheer and raise your glass clumsily into the air, spilling half your drink down your arm. “Oops-” You giggle. 

It’s not the first drink of the evening and not the first time you toast to Severus’ new job - and certainly not the last. It bears repeating after all because how fucking awesome is this? You have always known that Severus is the most intelligent and brilliant and ingenious person you’d ever meet! It’s unfair - no, a bloody shame! - how many people never realised it just because Severus’ is a bit awkward and rude and- alright he’s a downright cunt sometimes but he has every bloody right to be with the road his life has taken so far! With a father like that and that awful Potter and his stupid goons!

“We need to cut you off.” He drawls, the corner of his lips curling, and tries to snatch your glass from you. You jump off the chair you're standing on and cradle your drink protectively to your chest, firewhiskey dripping down your arm.

“Try and I’ll bite your finger off!”

“You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.” Severus shakes his head but doesn’t try to get your drink again, instead focusing on his own (the second of the evening - what a bore). The pub is crowded and loud, nobody pays any attention to the two of you sitting at a table in the corner.

You plop back down on your chair and take a sip of your drink. 

Severus’ eyes have gone distant again. That happens a lot lately. Like something is on his mind that he lacks the words to tell you. Social interactions aren’t his strong suit. You’re the ‘Severus-translator’ Lily used to joke when you three were still friends because you always knew what Severus wanted to say but couldn’t. You always made sure he was included in conversations, told others to shut up so he could speak or smooth over his rough edges whenever someone didn’t get Severus’ dry and dark sense of humour. 

One look at him from across the Great Hall during breakfast and you knew whether he was in a good or bad mood. You knew when he had a nightmare the night before and needed a gentler touch or when to bluntly tell him he’s being a cunt.

This you can’t seem to figure out. 

He smiles less these days. Even less than usual. The four years since you finished school have been hard, especially for him, especially with the war. 

Emotions are not Severus’ thing.

His long black hair falls into his face, hiding his grave expression from the world and you. His face has lost its boyish features. His jaw is more prominent, complementing his high cheekbones. His hooked nose suits him. It’s something about the proportions or symmetry of his face - you can’t quite put your finger on it. Most people seem to be put off by his appearance, but to you he has always held something uniquely beautiful.

He taps his finger against his glass repeatedly. His fingernails are still painted black…You made him let you paint them last time he was at your flat. It suits him.

You place your hand over his, stopping his fidgeting. You wish you’d know what’s going on in his head, clearly whatever it is puts him on edge, but you trust he’ll talk to you when he is ready. 

“You’ll be great.” You say. “I have no doubt. You’re a bloody genius, Severus! These kids are so lucky. They can learn so much from you!”

“I am certain they will share your attitude.” He says sardonically and you snort. Severus downs his drink and takes your empty glass to get another round (and probably a glass of water for you because he’s such a mum sometimes). You smirk as you watch him make his way through the crowd. 

He sticks out like a sore thumb in these new robes he got, but you think they too suit him. It’s probably the first time he isn’t wearing hand-me-downs. He’s wearing all black of course. The most colour you ever saw him wear was at Hogwarts in the form of his emerald green school tie. 

Severus looks intimidating. It makes him look older, stronger somehow. It’s such a stark difference to the beat up jeans, the The Cure bandshirt you gifted him one Christmas and the shabby leather jacket.

But not in a bad way.

He looks good. 

Maybe it’s the fact he has grown taller since graduation. He’s a head taller than he used to be and shed his bend over posture. Escaping both Hogwarts and his recently deceased father agrees with him. That and your continued effort of forcing him to eat three whole meals a day, every day.

His wide shoulders and dark hair disappear behind people and you rip your eyes from the spot you last saw him.

So much has changed in the last four years but that little flutter in your heart whenever you look at him has not changed. When it first started in your fourth year you didn’t even realise what it was about. You’d start stammering around him, earning you silent glares and raised eyebrows from Severus at which you’d blush. After an embarrassingly long time you finally accepted that you had developed a crush on your best friend. 

You’re too terrified of losing him as a friend to ever tell him though.

Severus isn’t good with feelings. They are too complicated. Too messy. He doesn’t need messy. His life is messy enough and so you swore to yourself to never tell him.

Your friendship was already a miracle. You are his polar opposite. You are outgoing and friendly, polite - too polite sometimes - bubbly and optimistic. Severus is - well Severus. He is grumpy and quiet and rude.

You decided to befriend him in your first year. You saw him during the sorting and something about him pulled you in. You really wanted to get to know him and when you heard him talk during your first potions class you made the decision to gain his friendship however long it would take.

You started by sitting at the table next to his in the library. You’d sit there everyday, quietly doing your homework and when he stopped shooting you irritated looks when he thought you weren’t looking, you moved to sitting at his table. You simply smiled at the befuddled Severus and did your work. 

You approached befriending Severus like one might approach gaining the trust of a wild animal. Over the year a truce-kind-of study group had formed between you.

Towards the end of term he asked for your help collecting some things from the forbidden forest - Lily would never break school rules, but you are certain Severus didn’t actually need help, he just didn’t know how to tell you he wanted to spend time with you.

During the summer you send him letters, even after not receiving any back from him and when you saw him by himself in the Hogwarts Express in September you sat down next to him and you’ve been friends since.

You know a romance is even less likely than your friendship was.

“Merlin! I almost didn’t fucking recognise you!” A familiar voice says and you throw up a little in your mouth.

“Black.” You say monotonous. As if he owns the place Black sits down opposite of you on Severus’ currently empty chair.

“You’re hot! How come we never snogged in school?”

“Because whenever I am forced to face the fact that you exist I want to smash my head against a wall.” You say with a honey-sweet tone of voice at which Black’s grin only grows. He doesn’t get the hint. 

“How come you’re drinking alone, gorgeous?” Black continues undeterred, a poised and arrogant grin on his lips.

“I’m not.” His grin wavers ever so slightly but Sirius Black has always believed himself so utterly irresistible that such small details don’t matter to him.

“I don’t see anyone.” He is wearing muggle clothes, trying just a tad too hard to look like a rockstar, but he talks and holds himself like a pureblood still. He might have run away from home but he is still living off of his family’s wealth and he hasn’t changed one bit since school.

Black is (as usual) utterly unaware that he isn’t welcome. Black’s eyes roam over your face and down to your chest like he is appraising you, determining how much effort you are worth putting into seducing you. 

“I think it’s fate we meet like this! You look-” He licks his lips and a shiver of disgust rushes over your arms. “So different. Bet you cut loose that tosser Snivellus. He was clearly dragging you under. A frown on such a pretty face should be considered a fucking crime.” You clench your fists under the table. You have your wand in your boot. It would be so easy to hex him-

“Someone as stunning as you- Oi! I was about to head to this club in Dublin that recently opened to meet Moony and Wormtail - You should join me!” He winks.

“As I said - I am here with someone.”

“But you could be with me!” He laughs as if he just made a joke but you know he is dead serious. He thinks you’d gladly ditched whomever you are here with for the chance of spending time with him. “Bring her too - the more the merrier.” There is a not so subtle suggestive tone to his words and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Come on gorgeous! Someone as sexy as you should not be so uptight! Let’s have some fun, let loose a little - it’ll be worthwhile to you, I swear.”

“What a compelling offer.” Sneers Severus and your heart drops. Great. “I wonder how many you made that promise to, Black, and how many you left disappointed.” Black’s grin falters for a split second.

That’s right.

Severus is different.

He stands taller. He’s fierce and strong and you aren’t at Hogwarts anymore where it’s four against one with the teachers turning a blind eye. You have no doubt Severus would pull out his nastiest curses on Black given the chance.

“Let’s leave, Sev.” 

“Come on, gorgeous!”

“That’s not her name, but one can hardly expect a simpleton like you to care for such fine details as names.”

“Sev.”

“No wonder she looked like somebody was fucking murdered in front of her eyes when I found her - how Lily could bear being close to you for so long I’ll never understand.” Black turns towards you. “Kick this dick to the curb - I’ll buy you a drink, gorgeous.”

“She does not need you for that-”

“I can buy my own drinks.” You hiss and when Severus still makes no move towards leaving, you grab your jacket and storm off. Let them duel like little children if they want, but you won’t get in the middle of that. 

The cold hair of the night hits you while you run down the street. Tears sting in your eyes and you feel so stupid and pathetic for crying. Nothing even happened. You don’t know what’s going on- that’s a lie. Severus sounded like he was about to suggest you’re with him and therefore don’t need Black to buy you drinks which…it’s not wrong. You were at the pub with Severus and you were going to make him pay (he’s a Professor now after all and from what Sev let on the pay isn’t bad) but it wasn’t a date. And Severus suggesting or intending to suggest that hurts. You want it to be a date goddamn! You’ve wanted it for over eight years!

Severus calls your name but you just wrap your arms tighter around yourself and continue down the empty street on the outskirts of London.

“Just wait!” He catches up to you. “What a fucking wanker.” He huffs.

“Mh.”

“What did he say to you? I should have hexed him! I knew it!”

“Drop it.”

“No, I will not drop it! He made you cry- come on tell me what he said and I’ll-”

“What?!” Abruptly you stop walking and spin around to face Severus. He looks at you perplexed, his cloak billowing behind him in the breeze. “You’ll go and start a duel? Why? I told you to drop it.”

“He’s a fucking cavemen! Just the way he looked at you-” Severus grimaces. A muscle in his jaw tenses and he flexes his wand hand.

“Why the fuck do you suddenly feel the need to defend my honour?! You just ignored me in there- nevermind. I’m tired. I want to go home.”

“Don’t let Black ruin our night-”

“You ruined our night! I asked you to leave, you ignored me. I ask you to drop it, you ignore me. I don’t want you to fight Black! We aren’t at school anymore - you’ll get arrested!” Something you have never before seen crosses through Severus’ eyes. Something dark. A cold shiver runs down your spine and you take an involuntary step back.

“I wouldn’t be arrested, Sunshine.” He says, voice low, rumbling like thunder, a muttered promise of destruction and ruin and heat pools in your belly. That he called you by his nickname for you which he uses very sparingly, if ever, doesn’t help the matter. Severus takes a step forward. The heat morphs into a twisting, curling mass that takes your breath away. Severus looms over you, shadows dancing over his pale skin, drawing his cheekbones into an even sharper contrast and you gulp.

“You think Luci is going to come and rescue you?”

“Lucius? I don’t need Lucius for that.”

“Do you even fucking hear yourself?!” Your voice echoes through the empty streets, thrown back off the house.

“He made you cry!”

“Why does it matter?!”

“Because-” He clenches his jaw, his fists shake with suppressed rage. His nostrils flare and for a split second a tingling sensation winds around your heart at the expression in his eyes - the softness in the middle of a raging storm. A lone, untouched, unbothered island in the midst of a roaring ocean. 

Severus exhales. Tension falls off his frame and the expression is gone.

“Fine.” He says quietly. “Let’s go then.” And he walks past you.

“No.” You can hear his steps stop behind you. Tears drip over your cheeks and you stubbornly wipe them away. “Say what you wanted to say.”

“I thought you’re tired.”

“Say it.”

“It’s- it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not moving until you say it.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. Behind you Severus sighs and you can practically hear him pinch the bridge of his nose like he does whenever you annoy him.

“You sound like a spoiled child.”

“Good practice then. You’ll have to deal with a lot of those, Professor.”

“Are you- I have the feeling you’re angry with me.” You spin around and glare at Severus. He’s not good with emotions, sure - but now he’s just being dense.

“What made you think that?” You deadpan. He rolls his eyes and his disregard for your feelings drives you mad. 

“Black’s a bastard-”

“This is Warren all over again!”

“Yeah and I was fucking right about Warren wasn’t I?” A vein on his forehead pulses, but you don’t give a shit. Warren was your first boyfriend and Severus behaved absolutely rotten towards you.

“Warren was a huge mistake, yes - but he was my mistake to make! What- do you actually fucking think I would ever fucking touch Black? Just the thought gives me an STD!” The barest flicker of amusement flashes over Severus’ features. “I just- I don’t get why you overreact like this everytime I talk to a guy. And it’s not like I was engaging Black there! The fucknugget is just to stupid to get a hint!”

“I-”

“There it is again! You did it again! What is it that you can’t tell me? Come on Sev! You can tell me everything. When did you start having secrets from me?” It’s a hit to your ego as much as you don’t like admitting it. 

You have always been Severus’ safespace. 

He told you things he never even told Lily! Something you didn’t know until third year when Lily asked whether Severus’ parents are ‘fighting again’ when you knew Tobias dickward Snape beat Sev with his belt the day before the Hogwarts Express left for the new term. You fucking healed him in you compartment because his ribs were broken and she asked whether they were fighting. 

Why can’t he tell you this?

Another tear slips over your lower lid and slides down your check. Your bottom lip quivers. You suppress a sniffle and nod. 

You have never felt further away from him than you do at this precise moment. It feels like Severus is sand slipping through your fingers and the harder you try to hold onto him, to the way it was before, the faster he slips away. Maybe too much has changed. Maybe he’s too different. Maybe this unlikely friendship was doomed from the beginning.

You know you’re about to start bawling and that’s the last you want Severus to see.

“Alright…I see.” You whisper. “Life’s different now. We’re keeping secrets now…”

“Sunshine-”

“No- no, ‘tis fine-” You roughly wipe your eyes. “See you- see you sometime….congratulations again.” You turn around to find a quiet alleyway to disapparate to your flat and break down there like a pathetic little teen that got her pathetic little heart broken without ever even working up the courage to confess her pathetic feelings. 

Your steps sound horribly loud in the dark, cold night and with every step you take away from Severus you feel like you’re losing him more, every step is another crack, another break, another insurmountable obstacle between you. The cold wind cuts through your clothes with ease and you shiver. 

“I love you.”

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart skips a beat or two or maybe it forgets how to work entirely. 

Severus’ voice is quiet, uncertain like it has not been since second year when he thought you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore after he lashed out at you.

“Sunshine- I knew Warren would only hurt you. That he’s not good enough for you. He bragged in the Slytherin common room that you showed him your boobs- He said all sorts of awful things and I- I just sat there. I should have said something, defended you, made him shut up but- Warren was two years above us and…” He takes a shuddering breath, dispelling old shame and insecurity from his voice. “Black’s just like that. He never cared for you before and now all of a sudden he is dying to go out with you? You don’t even realise it, Sunshine but- you- you are stunning. You have changed so much since school, you are- fuck I don’t know- words-” He sighs and rubs his hands over his face. 

You feel numb and like you’re on fire at the same time. Of course you knew Warren spread some shit about you around, it’s why you broke up and broke his nose in the process for good measure, earning three weeks detention with McGonagall, but you wished you would have known sooner... 

And- Severus loves you? No- that can’t be right- He’s in love with Lily- it’s always been Lily-

“You’re happier somehow- you- you’re radiant and beautiful and- you’ve grown up so much and- and- I love you. I’ve loved you for years- I want to protect you. I want to guard your happiness and yes I’d go back to knock out every single one of Black’s teeth for talking to you like that. You just have to say the word - sunshine - I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. And I know I’m not bloody good enough for you- I am rude and surly and miserable to be around - I don’t expect you to feel the same…I- fuck I don’t know-”

“You love me?”

“I love you.”

“I thought you love Lily.”

“Lily is- was- still is- I have no goddamn clue- she’s like a sister. I love her. And I think marrying Potter was a huge mistake and that she’ll divorce him in about three years - if she manages to stand him that long and when she does I hope- I hope we can mend our friendship…maybe- but- but I don’t love her like that. Not like I love you.”

Severus loves you.

Has loved you for years.

Severus loves you… You swirl around and before your anxiety can overpower your heart, screaming and aching and thrashing about in your chest you cup his face with your trembling hands and press your lips against his.

Severus stiffens. For a moment you just stand there, on your tiptoes to be able to reach him, holding onto him, feeling his heat against you, your lips exploding with electrifying tingling. Your stomach clenches and twists, flip flops and gives birth to a thousand erratic butterflies and all flutter around in a whirlwind of emotions that are too colourful, too many, too intense to ever find words worthy of describing the sensation.

Cautiously Severus puts his hands on your back and moves his lips against yours. You’re still crying, tears stream over your cheeks and run along the curves of your face to your lips. 

As if woken from an enchanted slumber, Severus drags you against his chest and kisses you fiercely. One arm wrapped around your back and clutching at your waist, and one hand cradling the back of your head, long slender fingers threading through your hair. You grab the front of his robes and cling to him. 

You both stumble a few steps and your back hits the brick wall of a house. Severus licks along the seam of your lips which you happily part for him. Your kiss grows sloppy and desperate. Your tongues meet gingerly at first but soon the slight air of discomfort and wariness at this development vanishes, flies away into the cool air of the night, gone and forgotten, as unimportant as your stupid fight.

Severus is kissing you. You are finally kissing Severus. He loves you. He has loved you for years.

Everything is good.

“Sev-” You whimper against his lips between two kisses. You try to break them, to wrench an inch of air between you but Severus is like a man dying of thirst that finally found a water source and is clenching his burning thirst. “Sev-” You push against his chest. Severus releases your lips, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t let go of you. 

He leans his forehead against yours and blinks back at you, his dark eyes seemingly trying to pervade yours, to find a direct path to your deepest thoughts, a link between you and him that is untouchable by anybody else, that runs deeper than any other connection between two people.

“Don’t you want to invite me back to your place?” You murmur and tug playfully at the button just above his throat. Severus’ eyes darken. A muscle in his jaw jumps. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Needy, desperate, wanting.

He clears his throat and steps back. How the fuck does he still look put together? How can he manage to reign in that storm in his eyes so expertly, so fast and clean while you’re a panting, sweaty, needy mess after just a few damn kisses?

“You won’t like what I’d do then.” He says, voice heavy with what he leaves unsaid. You push yourself off the wall and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You trail a few chaste kisses up the side of his jaw and flick the tip of your tongue over his earlobe. Severus inhales sharply and flexes his hands again.

“I don’t break easy, Sev.” You whisper and press a kiss to his ear. “You should know that.” He takes another shuddering breath and just when you think you’ll have to deal with the aftermath of his kiss on your own while picturing him nestled between your thighs (once again), he pulls you against his chest and holds you in a bone-breaking grip. You feel the familiar pull of side-along apparition and in the next moment you smell the even more familiar, dusty scent of Severus’ house. The smell of books is new, added after Severus renovated the house enough to evict his father’s influences and put his own touch to it - namely by adding a shittone of books.

Severus doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. He grabs your hand and pulls you up the stairs. You giggle and run to keep up with him. He practically kicks the door to his old room open (you know for a fact he has not even touched the door to his parents room since his father died) and crushes his lips against yours as soon as he pulls you over the threshold.

The burn marks from where Severus used to zap flies with his wand are still on the ceiling. The little pencil sketches you made near the baseboards are as well. He replaced his bed though. A brand new double which you are being steered towards now.

“Severus-” You moan against his lips and tear at the buttons of his new robes.

“Is this real?” He whispers back and leans his forehead against yours again, watching you struggle with his clothes. “I’ve pictured this so many times- thought about how I would feel to have you here- is this happening? Or am I sleeping?”

“It’s real.” You say, lips against his recently freed throat. “I’m here.”

“You’re here…”

“Severus-” You hesitate and pause your quest of revealing Severus’ body to your eyes. “I’ve never done this-” Suddenly you feel shaky and overwhelmed.

“Warren-?”

“Is full of shit. He lied- about all of it. Have you-” He nods, but there’s a distant expression in his eyes that tells you it’s not something he wants to talk about. Probably something he’s ashamed of. You know the kind of company Lucius, Mulciber, Rosier and the other’s like to keep and don’t pry further.

“I’ll trust you then.” You murmur and sit down on the bed, pulling Severus down with you.

“I’d never want to hurt you, Sunshine.” You kiss and between kisses scoot up the bed until your head is resting on the soft pillows and Severus’ lean body between your thighs. “I’ll take care of you.” He mutters against the corner of your mouth and kisses your cheek. “Such good care.” He trails down your jaw. “Like Black or Warren never fucking could.”

“I never wanted them.” You moan. Your body moves on its own, knowing precisely what you want and need even if your mind has yet to catch up. Your legs wrap around his hips, your back arches, pressing your breasts to his chest. You thread your fingers through his silky hair. “Only you.”

“Me?”

“Only you. Always you. Whenever I thought about it…when I pictured how it would feel while touching myself I only ever pictured you.”

“Oh sunshine-” He groans and rolls his hips against you.

“Sev-” Severus draws his wand and mutters a quick spell. Something curls in your stomach, it’s the weirdest sensation and for a second you are utterly confused, but then your gaze meets Severus’ and you understand. Contraception spell. You didn’t even think of that. Of course Severus did. You smile. 

He mutters another charm and your clothes vanish. You squeak, blush and hide your face behind your hands.

You can hear the clanking of wood hitting wood as Severus tosses his wand onto the nightstand.

“You- fuck…” Cautiously you peek between your fingers. A faint pink tinge has spread over Severus’ cheeks and nose, down to his now fully exposed neck. He looks cute. Adorable. You take a deep breath and drop your hands. This is Severus. Your Severus. There is nothing to be afraid of with him. “You put to shame all great beauties of the comprehensive history of this world.” His words brush over your skin like a tender caress and make you shiver and burn with embarrassed heat at the same time.

“Severus-”

“It’s true. The old greek masters wish they would have had a model like you sit for their marmour statues. Such beauty has to be preserved for the ages - but you…you are just mine.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my stammering, cute, insecure Severus?” You tease. Severus’ eyes are still pinned to your breasts. He visibly snaps out of his thoughts and looks up to you. There he is. Flashing through his impossibly dark eyes for the flicker of a second before they return to the heavy gaze, consumed by carnal desire that has been ignored for too long and has now broken free with demanding force.

“He knows he’s about to find out how you feel.”

“Come and find out then.” You shoot him a challenging grin. Severus kisses you in response. He kisses you and settles more of his weight on you. His very much hard cock presses against your exposed cunt. You gasp and clutch at Severus.

“Shit- Severus- that won’t fit!”

“It will.”

“You sure?” He chuckles, his eyes lighting up with amusement like they do so rarely and you relax.

“I’m sure.” You trust him. You love him. You want him. He’ll take care of you. 

You let him take control. Severus kisses you more. He seems determined to cover every inch of your body with all the confessions of his love he has missed out on. All the elapsed opportunities. All the kisses you could have shared if you both had had just a little more courage. But it doesn’t matter. You are here now. You are together in his bed, skin pressed against skin, breathing the same air, staring into each other’s eyes longingly while his hand slips between your thighs.

You’re soaked and whimper when his slender fingers gather your slickness, brushing your aching cunt with featherlight touches. He draws gentle, slow circles over your clit. Pressure and heat build in your belly and deep inside your cunt fast. You cling to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin without even noticing.

“I wondered so many times how you’d look…” He murmurs. His lips brush over yours as he speaks. His breath dances across your cheeks.

“...in the throes of pleasure.” Severus’ voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. A smoky rumble that goes straight to your core.

He teases your entrance until you’re squirming and rolling your hips against his touch before finally plunging a finger inside you. “I wondered how you’d sound…how I would feel knowing it was me making you feel like that…” You give him the answer promptly. Moaning and whining, gasping for air.

“Sev!” You throw your head back and arch your back. The pressure keeps building and building, beyond anything you ever managed yourself. He adds a second finger and with it a delicious, stinging stretch. He curls his fingers and presses the heel of his palm to your clit. You squirm under Severus’ intense gaze that seems to look right through you, through your skin down to your very soul. He watches every flicker of pleasure and desperation he paints onto your face with utter, devoted, undisturbed attention to you and nothing else. Nothing else matters.

Severus knows you like no other. It feels right to share this with him as well.

He loves you.

You still can’t believe it. 

“Sev!”

“Cum for me, sunshine. Cum on my fingers. I want to know- I’m done wondering. I want to know.” You do. Crying out and panting his name, thrashing about beneath him as waves upon waves of intense pleasure run havoc over you, but it’s fine. You can let go with Severus.

“I need you Sev- please-” You gasp even before your orgasm has released you from its clutches. “Please please please- Sev-” He groans. 

“Fuck and I thought you sounded needy in my head.” Severus mutters and aligns himself with you. He takes his time, giving you time to adjust to his girth, slowly pushing deeper and deeper into your still spasming channel, forcing it to give way to him. He grunts and whispers praise, how tight you are, how good you feel for him, how well you’re taking him. You whimper and hold onto him, leaving red streaks across his back. Severus doesn’t even bat an eye at it.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and savours your every sound, every twitch and throb of your cunt finally, finally gloved around him.

“Sunshine-”

“Severus…” More words aren’t needed. He rests there, deep inside you, his body pressed to your trembling smaller one, shielding you from the cold of his room and the world itself and you know there is a promise in there somewhere.

“I can’t believe it-” He murmurs and kisses your collarbone, down to your sternum. He kisses and licks, sucks, grazes your skin with his teeth. “You feel…incredible…you’re so good for me sunshine-” He kisses your breasts, flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, licks broad strokes and teasingly closes his lips around them.

When Severus finally moves again he does so in slow, measured thrusts. He watches your expression with hidden wariness, watches your every reaction. He can’t hide from you though. He is waiting for you to regret this. To tell him to stop. He’s afraid of letting go, afraid of scaring you off, of losing you.

But he’ll never lose you.

You buck your hips and whine impatiently. “Come on Sev.” You whimper. “Fuck me like you really want to fuck me.”

“It’s your first time I will not-”

“It’s done, Sev. Bye bye virginity! That train of stupid little things society places far too much worth in has left the station indefinitely. Now fuck me.”

“Sun-”

“Severus Snape! Fuck. me. properly.” He groans. His eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fine.” Severus grunts and a rush of excitement pulses through your stomach and drenches his throbbing cock in more fluids. “I warned you.”

The bed creaks dangerously under his thrusts. His hips slap against yours with a wet, fleshy sound that drives you crazy.

“Oh fuck yes- yes- just like that- that’s-” You babble more nonsense, moaning and shredding Severus’ back with your nails. He fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, spearing you open with his cock with each hard thrust. Your entire body trembles under his thorough attention. Your cunt yields to him in wet, fluttering excitement. It cherishes the promise of soreness his thrusts leave behind. 

Any attempt at grasping for and trying to hold onto one of the many thoughts rushing through your fuzzy, hazy mind is a fruitless endeavour.

“Fuck! Ahhh- so good…” Severus mutters against your collarbone and plunges his cock into your drenched cunt again before pulling out almost completely and driving back in with such force he knocks your head against the headboard. You both laugh.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You weave your fingers through his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You gasp and moan into the kiss and drink up the way Severus continues to lose the iron grip on his emotions he had cultivated since graduation, revealing more and more of the love-starved, unapologetic, fierce man you know him as. The man that feels so freely, so intensely, so deeply that it hurts him so much.

Every thrust, every kiss, every exploring hand gliding over your sweaty skin, squeezing your breasts in testing, careful motions is a testament to how deep his feelings for you run and have been running for so long. 

It breaks free of him in violent bursts and buries you beneath roaring pleasure. 

Severus is not good with words.

But he will be damned if he doesn’t show you what he can’t figure out how to say.

“Severus-” You moan, joining the creaking bed and his grunts, the symphony of your love. This would not be a pretty, romantic, fairytale like love. You are both messy and broken in your own ways. It will be hard. It will take work and compassion and will seem impossible at moments, especially in the midst of a war, but Severus is worth it.

To you he is worth it.

He always was and will always be.

You whine in protest when Severus pulls out of you but before you have a chance to voice it otherwise or even glare at him, Severus flips you over.

“Put your hands on the headboard.” He rasps in your ear. You are shaking and struggle to keep yourself upright, but Severus’ arms around your waist stabilise you. You hold onto the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white. Severus is kissing your neck, nibbling and sucking, painting his marks onto you as if to say ‘I was here’ or maybe ‘back off’. Maybe both. Maybe more.

He fills you up again, reaching much deeper than before and you gasp at the unfamiliar, intense feeling.

“Your cunt clutches me so hard-” He grunts and bottoms out. “Sucks me in- all soaked and desperate.”

“Sev-”

“Hmm…yes. I’m here…” He sucks the delicate skin on your neck into his mouth and bites down gently, at which a loud, wanton moan breaks free of you and he bites down harder. 

You meet his thrust with your hips, his cockhead hits a spot inside you it previously missed and you fall apart. His grip around your waist turns bruising and Severus pulls you back. Your grip around the headboard goes slack. You melt into his touch, twitching and shivering, whimpering, mind fuzzy with always new, higher, stronger, more intense levels of pleasure.

Severus holds you to his chest, your thighs on either side of his, useless, hands helplessly holding onto his arms, and moves your body up and down his hard shaft. Using you and the fluttering of your cunt as your orgasm continues to coarse through you. He grunts and bites your shoulder, harder than before and a particularly strong spasm shakes your body. You drop your head onto his shoulder, melting further against him.

“Again-” You rasp and present your neck to him. A grin flashes over Severus’ lips. Sweaty strands of hair stick to his forehead, his eyes are glazed over with hazy lust.

“My pleasure.” He coos, but instead of indulging you, he kisses you. One small, chaste peck after another. You squirm against his grip, claw at his arms, painting more red streaks on his pale skin.

“You never told me you got a tattoo-” You murmur. The sight of the jet black snake and skull on Severus’ left inner arm pulls your mind out of its haze and into a brief moment of clarity. Severus hesitates ever so slightly in his thorough, teasing attention he’s paying to your neck. Something about the tattoo unsettles you, though you can’t exactly decide why.

“Must have forgotten. It’s new.”

“Hmm…very metal.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Why’d you get it then?”

“I thought I would.” Severus sucks on your neck and that plummets you back into mind-numbing, all-consuming, ecstatic pleasure.

“Maybe we should go to Dublin after.” Severus purrs in your ear. “Show Black all your pretty marks.”

“Idiot.” You giggle.

“I’m going to cum-”

“Cum inside me.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Please, Sev! Cum in me.” Severus pushes you forward and you fall face first into the mattress with a tiny outrages squeal. Severus laughs at you and grips your hips, adjusting them to sit flush with his own. He fucks you roughly into the pillows. You clutch at the sheets. Severus loses more and more of what little composure he still had. He mutters things you can’t make out.

His thrusts are accompanied with lewd, wet noises and the headboard hitting the wall.

“Severus!”

“I’ll fill you up ahh- with my cum- leave you dripping-”

“Yesyesyes-” He moves your hips with each thrust, pulling you back into him as he buries his cock inside you. His balls hit your sensitive cunt. His fingers dig into your skin, sure to be leaving bruises. 

Severus cums with your name on his lips, tumbling over them in a low, reverent, lust-drenched prayer which you join with your own faint, desperate whimpers.

Feeling the hot spurts of cum hit your inner walls violently kicks you over the edge for the third time. Severus slumps above you, pressing his forehead to your back between your shoulder blades, panting and spent.

You stay like that for a while. Both of you trying to catch your breath, relishing in the buzzing glow of your aftershock and the feeling of each other’s love on your skin and warming you from the inside.

Gently Severus pulls his softening cock from you and lies down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Sorry.” He murmurs in your hair and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I hurt you.”

“I liked it.” You murmur back and place your hands against his chest, nuzzling your face to his neck. “Why did it take us so bloody long to finally do this?” He chuckles. He tugs a strand of messy hair behind your ear. You look up to meet his gaze. It’s heavy with emotions, a swirling storm of love and care and fear. You reach out to him in a futile attempt of soothing it. The pads of your fingers meet his cheek and he shudders under your touch, before leaning into it. His eyes fall closed and for a brief moment he looks at peace. Content. Home.

“I-” He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it again. His brows pull together into a frown, a deep crease forming between them. His lips go white as he presses them together into a thin line. His jaw tenses. “I’ve made a terrible mistake-” His voice is hoarse from unshed tears and the effort of suppressing them. He loses. One escapes from between his closed lids and slides down his cheek, meeting your fingers. You wipe it away, but more follow. 

“I’m trying to fix it- I am! But I-”

“It’s ok.” You whisper and press a tender kiss to his jaw. 

So he did it…You had your suspicions, of course you did, but a part of you refused to believe Severus capable of those horrible acts committed by the Death Eaters. And you were right. The pain, regret and self-loathing is so evident in his face. He can’t bear to look at you.

“We’ll fix it. Together. It’ll be fine.”

You are there when the Aurors storm his house to arrest him. You were sitting on the threadbare sofa in his arms as he read to you. 

You tell him not to resist, to not tell them anything.

You send an owl to Dumbledore.

You are at the trial, sitting on one of the benches. Severus looks miserable sitting in the middle of the courtroom, deep shadows under his eyes, a tremor in his wand hand. The chains of the chair are wrapped tightly around his arms. He avoids your eyes.

Dumbledore defends him passionately. Recounting Severus’ turning spy for him, reporting you-know-who’s steps to Dumbledore, how invaluable his intel had been. He recounts the dangers Severus was willing to face. He demands he is released. And he is. The Wizengamot clears him of all charges and you walk out of the Ministry with him, holding his still trembling hand in your own.

“Is this real?” He whispers and you bite the inside of your cheek to not start crying. You want to be strong for him.

“Yes.” You kiss his cheek and wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s real. You’re a free man. I’m here. I will always be here. We’ll figure this out.”

“Together?”

“Together. I love you, Severus.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

[mpregandproud]

The man of my dreams

Getting pregnant was the best thing I've ever done in my life. I used to be the invisible kid in class. I was skinny, unattractive, nobody noticed me. I never had a boyfriend, and I had a hard time finding a guy to fuck. But sometimes life has surprises in store.

One night at a fraternity party I got drunk and woke up the next day naked on a bed. I didn't remember anything that had happened the day before, but something in me felt different.

It took me a couple of weeks to figure out what it was. That night I don't remember I got pregnant. I was carrying a baby.

A month into the pregnancy, my belly was already showing a little. My skin glowed, my hair looked better than ever and my body grew. Something clicked with my fellow faculty members because from that day on I started getting visitors in my room or they would offer to accompany me to the bathrooms every time I had to leave class to pee. And it only got better as the months went by.

Frank, Isaak, Daniel, David, Aaron, Scott, Bruce, Bob… there wasn't a guy who didn't approach me since I got pregnant. Tall, muscular, blondes, brunettes, attractive, and with huge dicks. My ass had never had such a good time as it had these past few months.

But there was only one problem. The one guy I'd always liked, the one I'd been talking to at that party nine months ago, George, was the only one who hadn't paid any attention to me. He was the most handsome man I'd ever seen. Tall, athletic, intelligent, dark hair and beard. Someone mysterious, but successful. The man of my life, even if he didn't know it yet.

These last few weeks, on the other hand, my sexual activity has slowed down quite a bit. My huge belly, I am expecting triplets after all, prevents me from going to class every day. The doctor has recommended me to rest, so my encounters have gone. My pleasure lately is to eat like a pig, while lying in my underwear on the couch watching episodes of Friends.

One of these days, while I was devouring two huge pizzas, the doorbell rang. With great difficulty I got up and approached the door. I had to stop a couple of times, because for the last couple of days the contractions have started. I'm about to give birth, it's nothing unusual.

When I opened the door my water almost broke. The man that was waiting only lives in my dreams. George was standing there, wearing a tight white T-shirt that showed all his muscles. I didn't know how to react, I didn't know what to say, I was speechless:

- "Hello, handsome" - He said to me with a perfect smile.

- "H... h... hi. What are you doing here?" - I answered with a blush on my face. Was that a dream I was seeing?

- "I think you have something that's mine… ours. Don't you?"

- "What do you mean?" - I was speechless again. What would I want to say.

- "Nine months ago we were together... don't you remember? I was scared after fucking you, it was my first time with a man and I never felt that good with someone. I was stupid, I ran away and I haven't dared to come back here".

- "You? Was it you? Did you get me pregnant?"

- "Yes, I think I did. I spent the night with you, we were together all the time and after many drinks you took me to bed."

- "Thank you. I couldn't say anything else..."

- "Thank you?"

- "Yes, thank you for giving me the greatest gift of my life." - We were both crying and smiling at the same time.

- "Get the over here!" - He grabbed my face with his two strong hands and kissed me with a passion I had never felt before.

We kissed and went to the bed. He helped me take off my boxers and ate my whole cock. Fuck, what is this, I've never been so hard. If I didn't cum four times I didn't cum any, and this had only just begun.

With the same confidence with which he appeared in my house he grabbed my belly on both sides and kissed every inch of my skin and sucked my breasts that were already a considerable size with milk. My body was filled with an electricity that I had never experienced before. I was in heaven. This is real love.

When I thought it was all over, he opened my legs and pushed his penis in. A slow, gentle movement. The gentleness, the pleasure, the rhythm. Again, this man is a sex god, and the father of my children. He is mine. He is mine. HE IS MINE.

And then... the waters broke. A whirlwind of water rushed out of me. The three little people who united us forever were coming. In the end I will not give birth alone, George is here with me. Dad and daddy, finally together.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

Why does Monkey live with Leah and not her own family?

— monkey's past | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

despite her wild and chaotic antics, the girl's background is actually pretty sad and she doesn't like to talk much about it.

the nightmares from monkey's past at night haunt her sometimes.

monkey always considered her relationship with her parents her father to be challenging and hard, while the relationship with her mother is pretty much non-exsistant.

she finds it hard to talk about them things.

her mother abandoned her only child when she was little, no explanation - one day monkey woke up and the women had fled.

there was no goodbye, no note, nothing.

the resentment for the women was still is there and whenever monkey is asked about her mother, she's always quick to drop the subject.

the team have learned that the hard way in the past.

"my mother is dead,"

"is she really?"

"no, but... well, she might as well be,"

monkey's relationship with her father was complicated to say the least, the man had to raise her alone when his wife walked out on them when monkey was just shy of 2 for a whole new family.

her father had a few various different coping mechanisms - throwing himself into his work and drinking, sometimes even drugs.

the man definitely did have a temper and the scars on monkey's back prove it, unfortunately.

"i'm sorry dad,"

"sorry isn't good enough. you should know better!"

"dad,"

"your nothing but a disappointment, your mother had the right idea to leave you when she did. get out of my sight, now!"

if the man wasn't passed out on the sofa drunk or lashing out at his daughter with his fists, he was throwing himself into his work.

monkey was completely neglected and alone, but he was clever and always made it seem like he was the caring doting father, so he was to never get caught out.

monkey never got to escape her fathers' clutches until she was 16

when arsenal scouted monkey, the man was more than happy enough to sign the papers and all but washed his hands off her.

"i've washed my hands off her, shes' your problem now."

there was never any contact from that day.

not even on birthday or christmases.

monkey should have felt a sense of freedom, but instead she was lost.

the man who had so much hatred for his daughter and all she wanted craved was his approval.

monkey has always been a life-long gooner, joining the academy when she turned 8 and it felt like a dream come true, her dad was a gooner as well - it's in her blood, she lives and breathes arsenal.

being only 16 when she signed, she was taken under the wing of the older girls, more so specifically leah who she moved in with, along with kim, the two she formed a pretty close bond with.

"your my person, you both are. i love you."

"we've always got your back here, monkey."

"and your never alone, you have family here."

"we love you too, menace."

it was at the age of 18 when monkey found out her dad died, not that it made any difference at all.

"ha, well guess that i really am an orphan now, right?"

"monkey,"

"was it the drinking or drugs that killed him? it was only a matter of time,"

after all, monkey thinks that dark humor is the way to make things better.

it's become her coping mechanism.

"should i care? he didn't care about me when i was alive, why should i care about him when he's dead?"

it's safe to say that monkey's past is pretty haunting to her, but with the stability that she has around her, its' better now she has the arsenal girls to look out for her.

monkey has her chosen family, she is protected and loved by all of the older girls, despite how much of a menace she can be at times.

I didn't plan for this to be so sad, but here we go. feel free to continue to send me hc's for this little world i'm creating!

[cryptomiracle]

more creepypasta headcanons

(+ marble hornets)

WARNINGS:

Ooc? Idk

I started this at 2 am and you can tell

Cursing

I write on my phone so the format may be a little weird

Any brands, games, or characters mentioned in this do NOT belong to me, nor am I sponsored by them in any way.

This is very unserious, I've noticed that a lot of my other hcs usually take a "dark" turn and so I decided to make some that didn't.

You could even say they're a bit... silly.

You should totally check out my masterlist for more hcs (it's pinned)

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Characters: masky, hoodie, ticci toby, jeff the killer, and BEN DROWNED.

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Jeff:

he's extremely hard headed, he WILL argue/fight with someone over the dumbest things and he'll never stop arguing, even if he knows the other person is right.

He has an "emo accent"

He likes to start drama between people, and then leave the crime scene.

He is so ashy you could strike a match off of his elbow

He's been wearing the same beat up converse since 2012, them things are being held together by duct tape and a prayer.

His favorite animal is a raccoon, he says they're sneaky and nocturnal like him.

He refuses to get a new phone, he won't even steal one.

He curses all the time just cause he can, sometimes he'll even jumble random curse words together.

BEN:

He listens to vocaloid and he doesn't play about miku

He runs one of those "rage bait" accounts that are painfully obviously bait

Still quotes old memes and refuses to let them die

Example: yeet, t-posing, and "sanic the hedgehog"

He scams old people on Facebook and e-daters, he doesn't feel bad about it either.

He uses the money he gets from scamming to buy v-bucks and overwatch coins

He once doxxed someone for dissing miku

slender had to take away his mic privileges because he was keeping everyone up at night by yelling bloody murder at people on fortnite/overwatch

once showed up at someones house because they emoted on him after killing him in game

Toby:

He vapes, and thinks he's so cool cause he can do "vape tricks" and he makes people watch him while he does them

Someone once gave him apple cider, told him it was alcohol, and he pretended to be drunk.

His phone gallery is filled with random photos, like there'll be a low quality picture of a tree and then right beside it a picture of a ceiling. Just random stuff

Mint chocolate chip ice cream enjoyer

He's really flexible, although he has bad posture he can do back bends, the splits, etc

more on his terrible posture; when he sits he literally looks like this: ) )

When he first started working for slenderman, he REFUSED to live in the manor and lived outside. While he lived outside he became friends with a lot of the wildlife, slender eventually made him move into the manor because there was a rumor that toby was going to make a "possum army" and try to overthrow slender

He will fight anyone and anything he really doesn't care about his, or their well-being.

Had a "weeb" phase when he was in middle school and he still has nightmares about "naruto running" away from his bullies.

Hoodie:

He can make a killer sandwich (lol) he's not the best at cooking other things, but if you get him to make you a sandwich, he'll bless your taste buds.

He loves karaoke, he can't sing for shit but he still does it anyway

He acts like a millennial (I'm sorry) not to the point where it's completely unbearable, but he will send people "relatable memes" every now and then

He enjoys online arguments, he'll never participate but he will scroll through different threads of people arguing for hours on end

He likes for people to say stuff like "GO WHITE BOY GO" to him

He blushes when he lies, he's a scarily good liar but if you ever want to catch him in a lie, point out the fact that his cheeks are red.

Whenever he has a drink with a straw, he holds the straw in-between his tooth gap.

he sends streaks.

Masky:

He has a NASTYYY side eye, and sometimes he'll scrunch up his nose while side eyeing someone just to make it sting even more

Contemplated getting a mullet once, he never went through with it though.

He coughs like someone's grandfather who smoked three packs of cigarettes a day for 40 years

If someone says a word that reminds him lf a song he likes, it'll automatically get stuck in his head and he'll hum it all day after that.

he isn't weak when it comes to stinky smells, but if it's stinky enough to make him gag he's extremely overdramatic.

he learned how to sew because of how much he ripped his jeans, shirts, etc.

Sleeps so hard sometimes people think he's dead, he'll just be laying there looking casket ready but everyone is too scared to check on him cause he gets super grumpy when woken up.

he always keeps a little money hidden somewhere, even if it's just a 5 dollar bill.

he's superstitious, if he sees you attempt to walk under a ladder he will physically drag you back and make you walk around it.

he has a pair of brass knuckles which he only saves for "special occasions" they're his favorite things ever, he even named them.

he only uses his phone to call, text, or search something up, and that's it.

he doesn't even have YouTube installed.

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I will be reading over this to check for any errors, ty for reading - M

[arroganceisherfavoritecolor]

I will take ANYTHING with colin and/or rodrick (#I'm desperate i've read everything twice) Sorry if thats vague, but I'm like a garbage disposal and will take anything atp. Thank you if you look at this, have a great day/night!

Something about whats-her-name

"Mr. Heffley, whats got you daydreaming away in my class, hm?" Rodrick snapped back to reality, the brittle voice of his teacher shattering his thoughts about- wait... what was her name again? Oh, that's right, Y/n. Y/n L/n, how could he have already been in his 3rd year of high school and barely notice her? "Oh, sorry, it wont happen again" Rodrick said, like an idiot. The teacher simply rolled her eyes and went back to the lecture. As the teacher was talking, Rodrick went back to thinking of Y/n. Since they had just came back from winter break, Y/n must have moved her schedule around and ended up getting put into his 4th period English class. The seating chart app must have been on Rodrick's side when it was determining the new seating chart for the remainder of the year, because it had placed Y/n one person above him, but still in the row next to his, giving him a perfect view.

She was more than just gorgeous, more than ethereal, more than any word that Rodrick's pea-sized brain could come up with. She wasn't like all the other girls Rodrick had liked in the past, most of them quite prissy and rude. But Y/n? Y/n was cool, stylish and you could tell she was NOT just another brick in the wall. Although she was seen hanging out with Heather and her goons sometimes, you could tell she was nice. Rodrick knew she had an amazing personality, and he wasn't just saying that because he was totally head over heels for her. Every time he saw her from across the campus during lunch, she had that gorgeous smile of hers on her face. When he had asked his friends about Y/n, they had only good things to say about her. After a few weeks, Rodrick decided he HAD to get to know her, so he set up a plan.

Rodrick had came to the conclusion that he was going to throw a party that weekend. Since his parents and youngest brother would be gone, Rodrick felt it was the perfect (and probably only) opportunity to throw a sick ass party and impress the girl of his dreams. He sent out a group text in his schools group chat, which soon got screenshotted and posted on various social networking's. Most of the time, Rodrick didn't give a damn about what his peers thought of him. He had gone through all 11 years of school being seen as a dorky, emo weirdo. But now that Y/n was in the picture, Rodrick gave every damn and a bag of chips. He knew this kickback of his had to be off the hook, it was really his only chance to get Y/n to fall for him.. because y'know, he cant just go up to her and ask for her number or something... boy logic.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The Heffley household was PACKED. Teenagers coming in like ants marching. 30 minutes after the party started, Rodrick chose to stop answering the door, and just leave it wide open. People were drunk, some partying it up inside the house, and others passed out in the yard. As he surfed through seas of people, Rodrick made his way to the backyard. There, he saw Y/n sitting on the porch, alone. He opened the sliding glass door, feeling the fresh air on his skin. Y/n turned around, eyes widened. They soon softened when she saw Rodrick. He stood there, looking down at Y/n. She smiled, scooting over to make some room for Rodrick. He smiled, sitting down next to her. Finally, he broke the silence. "So... am I interrupting something? Or are you only out here 'cus my party's lame?" Y/n smiled, Rodrick swore he could feel his pupils dilate. "Nah, of course not. It just really stuffy in there, needed a breath of fresh air." She broke eye contact with him, looking down at her drink. Rodrick saw it wasn't even beer, it was Coke. As he continued to stare at her, Rodrick realized that Y/n is even prettier up close. She turned her head to look at him, which made Rodrick snap out of his trance. "Is there something wrong?" Asked Y/n, her head cocked to the side. What kind of question was that? Of course there was something wrong. Rodrick is sitting outside with the girl hes been damn near stalking, ALONE, and he probably creeped her out because he can't keep his eyes off of her for two seconds. "No, nothing wrong. You're just.." Rodrick couldn't find it in himself to spit out what he so badly wanted to say. "I'm just what?" Y/n's eyebrows were furrowed, a confused expression on her face. "You're so beautiful" Oh shit. It just slipped out, he didn't even mean to say it. Her eyes were wide, her once confused face now turned surprised. "Oh- oh my god. I'm.. i-i'm so sorry Y/n i ju-" Rodrick's stammering of nonsense was cut off by Y/n's soft lips kissing his. Her hands found his face and thumbs gently began to stroke his cheek. Y/n pulled away, a sweet smile on her face. Rodrick's mouth was hanging open, speechless from what had just happened. "Whoa, okay uh, alright." Rodrick said, which made Y/n giggle, eyes scrunching up and sparkling. "I don't wanna sound conceited, but I know everything Rodrick. I can feel you staring at me during 4th period, I notice how you purposely walk by my table during lunch, I even see all the profile views you leave on my socials." With every word that came out of your mouth, Rodrick could feel his face getting warmer and warmer. "O-oh my god Y/n, I'm sorry." He covered his face with his hands, trying to hide the blush. You laughed and softly grasped his wrists, uncovering his cute face. Y/n looked into Rodrick's eyes, deep and dark and desperate looking. "I don't mind at all, Rodrick." She said, eyes switching from looking at his eyes to his lips. "Why didn't you ever talk to me sooner, Rodrick?" Oh lord, hearing his name coming from your voice sounded like music to his ears. "Well I mean, you're just so... I cant even think of a word. I guess I've just been intimidated by you, I didn't know how to approach you." Y/n's eyebrows raised. "Oh, is it because i'm just sooo scary and discouraging, that it took you 6 months to have a conversation with me?" Rodrick laughed, feeling the tension wearing off. "Well, I guess you cant be THAT scary since you just ate my face" Y/n rolled her eyes, gently slapping his arm. "Seriously though, I really like you Y/n, I know i'm a wuss for not talking to you sooner." Y/n smiled at him as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Kiss me again, Rodrick."

And so he did.

A/N: THIS IS NOT MY BEST WORK GUYS! Lowkey rushed bc school stuff lol (i'm dying inside) PLEASEEE request more stuff!! thank u so much for requesting @my-sibling-wears-a-muumuu !!

[elminx]

Kitchen Witchery: Elminx's Anti-anxietea

In honor of eclipse season, I wanted to share a recipe to bring your buzz down a notch (or two). I've been drinking this nervine tea for nearly five years now; it features all of my favorite herbal flavors! I'm not going to go into detailed herbal profiles for each of these botanicals, but I suggest looking into them more if you are curious. I think learning the basics of herbalism can greatly benefit the kitchen witch.

Each of these ingredients can be found in any decent grocery store, bought online, or grown yourself. The combination is designed with flavor and herbal actions in mind; it's not a measure of exact ingredients - mix with your heart. All of these botanicals are well tolerated and can be drunk regularly by most people. Please be careful when trying new herbs; allergic or other adverse reactions can occur.

Hibiscus, Hibiscus sabdariffa Hibiscus is the primary flavoring agent in this blend. It gives our tea its Cool, Moist, and Sour properties. Please keep in mind that hibiscus will stain anything it comes into contact with, including clothing, wooden spoons, and even countertops. If you don't think you're familiar with hibiscus, it is the primary flavor in all "Zinger" teas. It tastes tart and inexplicably red.

Peppermint, Mentha piperito

Peppermint is the first of our gentle nervines to be added to our tea. Nervines do exactly what you expect them to: they calm your nerves. In addition to being a nervine (primary benefit), Peppermint adds its properties of Pungent, Sweet, Cool, Warm, and Dry to our tea. I'm sure you're all familiar with peppermint; you could probably substitute a different mint here with similar effect.

Lemon Balm, Melissa officinalis

Lemon balm is a nervine and a mild sedative. It brings the properties of Sour, Cool, and Dry to our tea. Some people don't like the taste of lemon balm, saying that it tastes like Pledge. If that's you, just omit it from this drink. The taste of hibiscus strongly overpowers the lemon balm, though, so maybe try it first.

Tulsi (Holy Basil), Ocimun santum

Tulsi is a nervine and adaptogenic herb, which means that it helps the body manage stress better. Its properties are Pungent, Sweet, Bitter, and Warm. With its heady, peppery notes, Tulsi is certainly an acquired flavor. If you get along with this herb, you will know almost immediately upon drinking it for the first time. A little goes a long way; you don't need to overdo it.

Dried Apple, Malus sp.

Although apple is primarily a flavoring agent (and sometimes a sweetening agent) in this blend, it does have mild sedative effects that lend themselves to the overall feel of this tea. I suggest using the apples you would eat in this recipe; you can dry slices of apples by putting them in your oven at 225F for 1.5 to 2 hours. Use a sweeter apple if you want a sweeter tea.

Minx's Anti-Anxietea

2 parts hibiscus

1 part peppermint

1 part lemon balm

1-2 parts dried apple

.5 part tulsi

Start by adding 1 tsp tea to hot water and steeping for 8 minutes. Adjust to your tastes from there.

This drink tastes great, hot or cold.

I've never sweetened this tea because I like my drinks bitter like my soul, but I bet a dollop of honey would be lovely in this—especially a nice summery wildflower honey. I've added sweetened cranberries in the past (1-2 parts) for more sweetness. And honestly, I don't measure. I know when it smells right.

I apply this drink liberally, but some people may find it too strong a diuretic to consume more than once daily. I drink it any time that I feel especially anxious or when I know I am going to be under a lot of stress. My partner likes to drink it before bedtime and claims it's one of the only things that will calm them down when they feel like they have too many thoughts.

You can witch this up (it's a verb now!) as little or as much as you like. I like to work calming energy into the drink step by step as I create the mixture by working with each botanical individually. You could charge this with a candle or sigil, dedicate it to one of your favorite gods or spirits, or store it on your altar. I create bindrunes for my favorite tea blends and use them as magical labels.

Do you like my work? You can tip me over on Kofi or sign up to be a monthly supporter of my writing.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for wanting to spend a night out with a guy?

I'm twenty, study in university and still live with my parents. I've been planning to move out since I was eighteen, but they told me to keep living at home and not get a job so I could focus on studying while they take care of me financially. This arrangement has worked mostly well in the past years save for a few small conflicts, but it's escalated in the past 3-4 months.

The issue is my time schedule. I have a very active social life, am active in the local art scene, do political work and a lot of extracurricular stuff for university (I'm a straight A student, I might add!). Because of this, and because I'm a natural night owl, I usually come home late several days a week (between 10pm and 2am) and stay out all day for most of the week. This means I can't do a lot of chores, and usually there's a lot of housework because my mum has a bit of a cleaning anxiety and wants to make sure everything is spotless 24/7.

Enter this guy, I'll call him Tim. I met him at a festival last summer and we became long distance friends. Tim has visited me for a day several times before, but this weekend he offered to come over for two days and we agreed to spend the night stargazing together without sleeping. I loved the idea and immediately said yes. It was gonna be just us, a couple energy drinks, and some bench in the city center, and I was really looking forward to it.

The thing is, my mum does not like Tim. Like, at all. She thinks he seems very sleazy and generally distrusts him because he feels "too nice" for her. Mind you, he's just a somewhat shady looking guy who is generally pretty anxious he might make a bad impression, so he overperforms the whole "respectable member of society" act a bit around new people. I've introduced him to my friend group and even the more sceptical people absolutely love him and think he's a very sweet, helpful person. In basically every stressful situation I've ever seen him in he's been deescalating, protective and helpful, and he has on several occasions been my first source of comfort when things went to hell.

Today I told my mum in an offhanded comment that I won't come home between Sunday and Monday and the situation escalated completely. She was crying, accusing me of ruining her month, saying I didn't care about this family, it got ugly. The main point she had was that I was staying out all night with someone who's a total stranger to her and she doesn't trust him at all. In the end we compromised that Tim and I would spend the night awake, but not in the city, at home.

I feel really humiliated by this whole situation and honestly, kind of betrayed, because I was promised stuff like this wouldn't happen, and it just hits in a much safer situation than ones I've been in before (I used to get blackout drunk and sleep at parties a lot.). I'm a legal adult, have been for years now and it's so disappointing that my parents still treat me like a child sometimes and are so judgy towards my friends too. At the same time, I'm wondering whether I've acted wrong too by not telling her about this earlier and not taking her concerns that seriously. I forget sometimes that I talk to Tim every day for hours, but my parents only briefly ran into him once, so of course their view of him is skewed.

PS: I should add that when I told him about this, he immediately apologized, asked if I needed anything or wanted to change the plan and decided to dig out the least offensive outfit he could find so he'd make a good impression on my parents. So he's definitely trying his best.

[just-jordie-things]

i've got my mind on you - gojo satoru

word count: 9.7k warnings: heavy drinking, swearing, mentions of a toxic relationship (not reader’s) summary: whoever said drinking to forget works is a goddamn liar a/n: I've just been listening to say yes to heaven by lana del rey a lot lately so the vibe is kinda there (but I wouldn’t say it’s a songfic per se)

___

“So what’s your plan? You’ve either got to slow it down, or come up with a plan”

A giggle, a hiccup, and then a goofy smile spread across (y/n’s) face, before she leaned over the bar and pulled the straw in her margarita towards her mouth.

“Well, hic-” She’s barely gotten any real sentences out in the last fifteen minutes, but Ieiri still tried to get through to her.  “I’ll pro’lly jus’ stay a lil’ drunk forever- hic- so that I never get hungover”

Ieiri rolled her eyes with that tiny bit of affection that she feels sometimes.

And if she was going to feel affectionate towards anyone, it was going to be (y/n).  She didn’t have many friends, but she knew they didn’t deserve it.  (y/n) however… was going through a tough time.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” She sighed, twirling her own straw around the ice cubes left in her glass.  “I meant what’s the plan with Satoru?”

For a moment, a three second moment, the hiccuping and dopey smiles halted, and (y/n) stared down at her half empty glass.

The whole point of coming out tonight was to forget.  To forget him and his stupid face and his stupid voice and his whole stupid self that she was so damn in love with that it just about blinded her.  She couldn’t think when she was around him, she couldn’t breathe when she was around him.  

And she simply couldn’t have that.

“The plan’s right in front of ya” (y/n) replied, giggling again before taking a few more sips of her drink.

“Your plan is stupid, then,” Ieiri huffed, leaning her elbow on the bar, resting her chin in her palm.  “So you’ll drink forever?”

“Mmmhmmm” (y/n) hummed through her straw.

“And what about work? You gonna drink there too?”

(y/n) hummed again, looking up at the ceiling as though she were actually pondering the idea.

“We teach kids, dumbass,” Ieiri rolled her eyes, this time with less affection.  “Seriously.  You have to have some sort of plan.  Distance? Or maybe…”

(y/n’s) eyes shifted sideways, just barely glancing at her friend from the corner of her eye.

“Or maybe what?” She asked, quietly, her eyes returning to what was left of her drink.

She wasn’t sure how many of these overpriced mason jar-margaritas she’d had, but it still wasn’t enough to solve her issue.

Maybe two more? She wondered.

“You could always confess” Ieiri shrugged.

(y/n) swore she could fall off her stool right now.  The whole room was spinning.  Or was it just her?

Am I that drunk?

“You’re delusional” She snorted, shaking her head, before sliding off her seat, steadying herself with her hands on the bar.

“I’m delusional?” The brunette repeats, like it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard.

(And she’s put up with Satoru’s shit for a long, long time, so she was quite familiar with ridiculous)

“I’m going to the bathroom,” (y/n) sighed.  “Order me another one of those, would ya?” She asks, gesturing to the empty mason jar on the counter.

Ieiri shakes her head.

“I’m sure they’re done serving you, ‘ya drunk” She says, punctuated with another eye roll.

(y/n) blows it off, trying her best to walk in a straight line towards the bathroom.  She wobbles a bit, but at least makes it there.

It’s empty, to her delight because she’s been swallowing a hot lump in her throat for the last half hour and she just can’t keep it to herself anymore.

Closing herself in a stall, she fell to the toilet seat and dropped her head in her hands.  Finally, a few tears could fall without the humiliation of being drunk and crying in public.

“Ya know, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met?” He says with that grin on his face that should make her want to smack him, but instead she’s lost in it, mirroring it on her own face.

“And you know you’re the cheesiest person I’ve ever met?” She replies smoothly.

“You calling me a liar?” He asks, leaning in closer, narrowing the space between them even more than he already had when he’d approached her.

She was trying to finish up her paperwork, making copies for the Kyoto school in the small copy room they had.  Of course he cornered her in here.  Just to flirt with her and fill her with a useless hope.

And yet here she was, following that hope, like an idiot.

“A liar? Gojo, I would never,” She smirks, before turning around to pluck her copies off the tray.  “See ya”

But she can feel him shadowing her as she struts out of the copy room and off to her small office.

“Why do I feel like you’re looking for something?” She muses, fighting the urge to glance over her shoulder at him.

“Can’t a guy just walk a girl back to her office?”

“And what’re you protecting me from?” (y/n) hums, her eyes catching a figure making his way in the opposite direction.  “Nanami?”

“Please, leave me out of it” The blonde man mutters, picking up the pace to his office.

“Don’t worry Nanamin, I’ll fill you in later!” Gojo calls down the hallway, before skipping up to walk at (y/n’s) side.  “Where to miss?” He asks, folding his hands behind his back as he stoops low to be at her ear level.

“My private space,” (y/n) replies.  “Or did you intend something else?”

“Intend…? Oh, no sweetheart you’ve got me all wrong!”

She stops walking then, turning to him, her copies held to her chest and her brow raised curiously.

“Do I?” She asked, staring up at him intently.

He pauses for a moment, which interests her because it’s not often that the great Gojo Satoru freezes, and here he was frozen because of her.  A smile blooms across her lips before she pats his arm and heads off to her office on her own.

“See ya, Satoru” She calls behind her.

She shouldn’t have felt so victorious walking away from him that day.  Because at the end of the day, nothing changed.  Whatever playful banter they had would remain just as it is.  Nothing.

With tears streaming down her face, (y/n’s) hands shook as she typed the passcode into her phone.  Her mind ran wild with scenario after scenario in which she found herself giving him another piece of her.  Another flirty comment, lingering touch, a stare that lasted just a second too long.  It was too much.

A tear hit her screen as she was scrolling through her contacts.  With poor motor skills she pulled the sleeve of her dress over her palm to wipe away the moisture, frustrated when it only spread it over the screen.

When she was finally able to type on the screen, she was scrolling through phone numbers again.  It took a minute before her shaky thumb selected- almost haphazardly- what she was searching for.

It only took one ring before he picked up.

“(y/n/n)?”

“Ya know you’re a real downer, right? Ya know that?”

A small chuckle came through, which for some reason only ignited her frustration in the moment.  Of course Satoru would find this funny.

“And while on the subject of stupid things, what’s the point of using mason jars for margaritas? The- hic- ridges makes all the salt fall off and then it’s not even really a margarita at that point is it?” She rants.  “Fuckin’ lame- hic- is the aesthetic really worth it to people?”

“The aesthetic is lame,” Satoru agreed with another chuckle.  “Where are you, sweetheart?  A bar somewhere?”

Now she knew she was wasted, as she could’ve easily mistaken his tone for concern.

“Yeah -hic- somewhere,” She slurred out.  “You wanna know -hic- what else is stupid?”

“What’s that?”

(y/n) leaned back on the seat, the alcohol in her system sending her back into the upper holding tank of the toilet roughly.  To her luck, she didn’t feel the pain of the rough smack of the ceramic into her back.  However the quick movement did leave her feeling a little dizzy.

“Ah- fuck” She muttered.

“You okay?” Satoru’s voice came through the phone a bit muffled but the concern was still there.

“I’m fucking fantastic.  I’m faaantastic y’know?”

“If you say so.  What was the bar you went to again?”

“Dunno,” (y/n) sighed, tilting her head back.  “Did you guess?”

“Guess what?”

(y/n) giggles.

“You,” She answered for him.  “You’re the stupid one”

Satoru snorts before letting out a short laugh.  It was hard to tell if he was annoyed or entertained, but she was too far gone to notice or care.

“I’m stupid?” He asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Yeah, you’re a total fuckin’ idiot” (y/n) sighed.

“You’re starting to sound like Kento,” Gojo laughs.  “I thought you went out with Ieiri”

“I did, she’s here.  She’s just still at the bar”

“You’re not at the bar?”

“I’m hiding in the bathroom”

“Hiding? Why?”

“I dunno.  I’m tired.  I’m tired of this”

It’s quiet on the line for a moment, leaving (y/n) to stare at the concerning green stain on the ceiling tile, her mind drifting off as she wondered what could have caused it, or how long it had been there.

“What’s goin’ on sweetheart?”

Why did he insist on calling her that? And why was it impossible to set fire to the butterflies in her stomach when he did?

“(y/n/n)? Ya still with me?”

“Yeah.  I’m here” She mumbled back, closing her eyes before the ceiling stain could make her nauseous.

“Look, I’m on my way.  Would you go wait with Ieiri? And drink some water?”

(y/n) sighs, before forcing herself to stand, only having to place her hand on the stall for a few seconds to keep herself upright.

“Alright,” She mumbles again.  “Fine”

“Drink some water.  See you s-”

She lowers her phone from her ear and presses the bright red END CALL before he could finish.  The alcohol was getting on top of her, and she was getting too tired to continue dancing this dance.

Stumbling out of the bathroom, she finds Shoko standing there next to the door, a water bottle in hand and a gentle smile on her face.

“You alright?” She asked, uncapping the bottle and handing it over to her.

“No,” (y/n) replied.  “Let’s just go”

Ieiri nods.

(y/n) can’t help but wonder where she’d gone so wrong.  Was it the first time they met? If only she’d ignored him, rolled her eyes at his flirtatious nature and walked away.  Maybe then she wouldn’t be stuck wallowing in self pity.  Fuck, was this ridiculous.

“Oh! And don’t kick yourself over Nanami not liking you.  He’s a nice guy.  Just a guy of few words, that’s all” Ijichi added a tiny piece of advice into his tour.  (y/n) chuckled.

“Good to know”

“And Ieiri is very nice, she’s a good friend” He adds, but this time there’s a slight pink on his face.  (y/n) laughs again.

“She pretty too?” She asks with a face splitting grin.  

Ijichi puts his head down, pushing his glasses up his nose and hoping the heat in his face would go away quickly.

And as (y/n’s) laughing to herself, tucking her hands into the pockets of the slacks, she catches sight of an odd, but indistinguishable character.

He’s walking in the opposite direction, with a phone to his ear, and he seems mildly annoyed from the way he shakes his head and waves his free hand around.  That’s the first thing she noticed.

The second thing she noticed was the sunglasses he wore, which was strange because they were inside, but she had to admit they were alluring, in that mysterious way.

She finds herself watching him as he walks closer towards them.  And she thinks that he sees her too, although it’s hard to tell with the dark lenses perched on his nose.

His hair was a shocking white, only adding to his allure.  (y/n) couldn’t tear her eyes off him if she’d wanted to.

And when he finally passed, all she could do was wonder to herself who he was.

She looks back a moment later, only to find him stopped in his tracks, phone still held up to his ear, but he was clearly staring at her now.  Her brows knot in confusion, watching him as still as she follows Ijichi down the hall.

Then he grins.  A wide, almost shit eating grin.

And despite herself, (y/n’s) face feels warm, and she can feel her lips tugging into a smile before she can even figure out why it is that she’s smiling back at him.

Turning back to Ijichi with eyes rounded from curiosity and a bit of excitement, she beamed.

“Who was that?”

“Maybe I should just get a dating app and settle down with the first eligible man I meet,”

Ieiri snorted in response, glancing up from her phone to give her friend a questioning look.

(y/n) slumped against the brick wall they had been standing at for a while.  It had been mostly silent while she was slowly drinking her water, and Ieiri smoked a cigarette.  Until now.

“I mean, there’s a ton of guys on there, right? So shouldn’t there at least be… like… a couple of hot ones?”

“I don’t know,” Ieiri sighs, crossing one arm over her chest while the other waves her cigarette around as she speaks.  “You don’t seem like the dating app type”

(y/n’s) brow furrows.

“Well, then what type do I seem?”

Shoko smirks, nodding her head off to the street.

(y/n) squints at her, before following her line of sight.  There she found a familiar black car pulling up to the curb.

Ieiri grins, expecting an elated reaction from her friend.  Instead (y/n) rolls her eyes.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me”

Gojo gets out of the driver’s seat, and jogs his way over to the wall.  With that stupid grin and those stupid sunglasses, (y/n) just wanted to tell him to get out of here.

“What’re you doing here?”

The white haired man laughs, tucking his hands in his pockets as he approaches the pair.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me?” He asks.

Her brows are furrowed and the annoyed look she’s trying to give him comes off as a pout, so of course he’s laughing.  His laughter pisses her off more.

She wants to tell him to get lost.  She wants to shove him by the shoulders until he gets back in that car and drives away so that she wouldn’t have to look at his stupid face anymore.

Stupid.

“She’s had a bit too much,” Ieiri breaks the silence.  “And she’s barely drinking her water”

Tattletale.

“I never knew you were such a party animal, (y/n/n),” Gojo teases.  He’s still smirking.  “Well let’s get ya home, hm?”

She doesn’t answer him.  He’s not sure if he’s been given the silent treatment, or if she was finally over the peak of her drunkenness- and now came the downfall of heavy drinking.  Either way, he’s slightly amused, as he’s never seen her in such a state.

There was the occasional work gathering, but they were few and far between, and at most they involved a beer or two.  Seeing (y/n) obliterated was a sight for sure.

(y/n) turns to Ieiri, her lips in a frown.

“Go on,” Her friend prompts in an uncharacteristically sweet tone of voice.  “You’re the one that called”

Stupid! (y/n) mentally face palms.  The conversation she’d had in the bathroom came back to her in hazy images.

“Fine,” She finally speaks, swiveling on her heel to face Gojo again.

He had jumped for a second upon her quick motion, because surely she was going to trip over the skinny heel on her foot, but she had faced him with surprising balance, not even a sliver of wavering in her body.

“Then let’s go”

He nods, moving to open the passenger side door without a word.  For a moment there, he thought he might have to throw her over his shoulder to get her to leave.  So this was a pleasant change in plan for him.

“Goodnight,” Ieiri calls with a wave.  “I’ll call you in the morning!”

(y/n) weakly returns the gesture, before Gojo shuts the car door.  He turns for a moment, just to give Ieiri a look.  Even behind his sunglasses, she knows the face he’s making.  She grins, before putting her cigarette out on the brick behind her, and heading off in the direction of her own car.

When Satoru gets into the car, (y/n’s) leaning against the cool glass of the window, with both of her hands wrapped around the seatbelt over her chest.

“You feeling alright?” He asks.

No response.

“If you’re sick, we can wait,” He suggests.  “I don’t want the drive to upset your-”

“I’m not sick”

Her words are small, and a little slurred, but he understood her nonetheless.

He nods, and puts the key into the ignition.

(y/n’s) eyes keep watch of the dark sidewalks they pass as he drives.  There’s few people out this late at night- she briefly wonders what time it even is- and the city seems so peculiar when it’s this quiet.  It almost makes her antsy, like the next corner they turn they’ll run into some sort of conflict.

But when he makes that left and it’s just another empty street, a calmness spreads over her insides.  She sinks down into her seat a little.

Gojo sees this, having kept an eye on her for the last few minutes they’d been in silence.  He waits for a minute, before he breaks that silence.

“Did I do something to upset you?”

She looks over at him, quiet for a few moments more as she tries to untangle her thoughts.

“Do you think you did?” She replies, thinking that’s the smoothest response she could have given him.

“No, I don’t,” He answers her straight away.  She frowns, because it’s the wrong answer and they both know it, but that doesn’t make it any less truthful.  “But then you called me, which you don’t do, and you called me names, which you sort of do, but you sounded really upset”

“Yeah” She sighs, before shrugging her shoulders.

Satoru waits for her to continue, his head constantly turning from the road to her, but she just sits there, clearly content with herself.

“Yeah?” He repeats, and he wants to scoff at her.  He wants to shake his head and call her childish and inconsiderate to his feelings because clearly she had troubled him.  She’d made him think something bad had happened, or he had hurt her somehow, he wasn’t sure what but she was the one that made him worry.  And now she wanted to sit there and shrug her shoulders and stare blankly at him like she couldn’t see the concern pouring out of him.

“Yeah,” (y/n) says again, but this time her voice was dripping with malice.  “I was upset”

His knuckles are white as they tighten around his steering wheel.  Sober (y/n) would have noticed, and probably called him on it.  Drunk (y/n) just glares him down.

“Okay, well, maybe you’d like to enlighten me then?” Satoru asks.  His throat is tight as he desperately works to maintain an even voice.

He can’t remember a time he’s ever been this upset with her.  He can’t remember a time he’s even been mildly annoyed with her.  But now here she is instigating and acting like-

No.

He looks over at her again, and although she looks like she could spit on him if he doesn’t choose his words carefully, his expression softens.  And soon after so does his grip.

He lets out a breath.

“Look, you worried me, okay?” He admits, keeping his eyes on the road.

When he looks straight ahead, she can almost see his eyes.  Something in her chest melts just a little bit.

“You never call”

“I don’t like phone calls” She mumbles in response.

“I know”

For a second, in her staggered breathing and slow blinks, she’s brought back to reality.  And the reality was Gojo Satoru knew her.  He’s known her for a while, and he knows her well.  And he’s here now.

She forces herself to look away, to go back to the window and try not to think about Gojo Satoru and whatever feelings led him to being here right now, driving her home.

And then it dawns on her.

“I can’t go back to my place”

“What?”

His neck was going to strain with how frantically he was looking from her to the road.

“I can’t go back to my place” (y/n) repeats.

“Yeah I got that part,” He clenches his jaw, and he’s racking his brain to remember some old breathing exercise Ieiri had told him about a long time ago.  His mind comes up empty.  “Why?”

“My roommate broke up with her boyfriend” (y/n) sighs, before leaning over in her seat, beginning to unbuckle the uncomfortable straps around her ankles.

“Okay?” Gojo’s shaking his head, desperate for context, but clearly (y/n) was more invested in pulling the heels off her feet.

“Oh, he lost his mind and trashed our apartment”

“What?”

“Yeah, broke all our glass dishes, ripped frames off the walls, it was insane”

“Did you call the police?”

“I was out, but my roommate did.  It’s fine, but my room is a mess still.  She’s been staying with her family for support”

“Jesus Christ”

“Yeah,” (y/n) sighed, leaning her head back against the seat.  “But she’ll be okay, I’ve got eyes on him,”

He glances over at her, just long enough to see a small smirk playing on the corner of her lips.

Right.  Her cursed technique.

“As soon as he has the intention of coming to that building again, he’s going to feel a very sharp pain on the left half of his body,” She hums, and then rolls her head to the side to look over at him.  “And that will be his spleen catching on fire”

Gojo lets out a low whistle.

“You’re gonna piss off the elders when he’s a medical mystery”

“Like you’ve ever given a shit what the elders think” (y/n) mutters.

He smiles to himself and doesn’t say anything more on the matter.

“Guess you’ll have to stay somewhere else then” He says instead.

“I’ve got a couch in my office that’s comfortable enough,” (y/n) shrugs.  “You can just drop me off back at the school”

“That’s ridiculous.  We’re not doing that”

(y/n) doesn’t say anything.  Her fingers curl around the heels of her shoes that she’s holding in her lap.

She turns her gaze back to the window, and keeps to herself the rest of the ride. ___

Rushing yourself when you’re already incredibly panicked was always the wrong way to go.  (y/n) knew that.  But slowing herself down would only make her more late.

Yet there she was, balancing her cup of coffee atop enough stacks of file folders to fill a whole cabinet, and running through the hallways at full speed.  Luckily years of rigorous training and acrobatics meant that her balance was impeccable.

Until a door opened right in her path, too close for her to stop herself in her tracks.

With a squeal her files were thrown up in the air as she threw her body to the side before she could run straight into it.

And like magic she caught all of her files, in perfect condition, not a single paper out of place.

“Ha! Yes!” She cheered to herself.

And just as quickly as she’d rejoiced, her shoulders slumped as she realized there was just one thing missing.

“Oh, no, my-”

“I think you dropped this”

She spun around upon hearing the voice of a stranger, and sure enough, there he was holding her paper cup, which was also perfectly intact.

But this wasn’t just any stranger.  This was the stranger that she saw yesterday on the phone.  With the strange white hair and strange sunglasses even though they were inside.

“Wow, thanks,” She breathed out, a bit embarrassed to have acted so crazy in front of him.  “Sorry for throwing it” She adds sheepishly.

“Nah, don’t be,” He replied with a nonchalant shrug.  “You must be (y/l/n)”

Something about him already knowing who she was only made her face feel hotter with embarrassment.

“Uh- yeah, just (y/n) though”

“Just (y/n),” The white haired man repeats with a click of his tongue.  “Gojo Satoru, most powerful man in the world, teacher, and now escort-e of women in need” He introduces.

Well, he’s clearly confident.

(y/n) chuckles.

“Well thank you, Gojo Satoru, but I’m sure there are women elsewhere in need of your services”

He seems thrown off guard as she plucks the coffee from his hands and places it back on her stack of folders.  With that she grins and heads back in the direction of her new office.

“You sure you don’t need help?” Gojo calls.

“Nope!” She hollers over her shoulder.  “But thank you! See you around!”

And just like that she was running off again, having not learned a single lesson.  But at least the mysterious and cute stranger she’d seen wasn’t a stranger anymore. ___

For some reason, she didn’t think to ask any questions when the car was parked.  She grabbed her shoes and unbuckled her seatbelt, just as Gojo had rounded the car to get the door for her.

It wasn’t until he was guiding her inside that she thought twice about their whereabouts at all.

This must’ve been his place.

Her suspicions were confirmed when he pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door.  She turned to him with wide eyes, a protest on the tip of her tongue.

But his head jerked in motion for her to go inside, and she couldn’t come up with a good enough reason not to, and so she found herself waltzing in as though she’d been there hundreds of times before.

Which in fact wasn’t close to true.  She’d never been to his place before- neither one of them had ever been to each other’s places.  And now she’s standing in the entryway looking into the living room and she’s… nervous.

“Bathroom’s down the hall to the left,” Satoru speaks, gesturing lamely in the direction he’d given her.  “I don’t have any makeup wipes but uh there’s tissues?”

(y/n) stares at him for a moment, unsure what to do with this information.

“Is that bad?” Gojo asks, mistaking her confusion for judgment.  “I could go buy some makeup wipes-?”

“No, no,” (y/n) shakes her head, turning to head off.  “Tissues are, um, fine”

“Okay, great,” Gojo nodded.  “I’m gonna try and find something for you to sleep in, since, yaknow, obviously..”

She couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark sunglasses, but she knew they were tracing the little mount of fabric of the dress that clung to her figure.  Normally she’d find her hands tugging at the hem, pretending that would lengthen it.  But instead of hiding in embarrassment, (y/n) glanced down at herself, admiring the pretty dress she’d chosen for her night out.  Black did always suit her.

“I don’t really care what I wear to sleep in,” She says.  And then maybe the alcohol gets on top of her a little bit before she continues with, “I don’t normally wear anything”

“Go,” Gojo points towards the bathroom, forcing himself to turn and walk away.  “And help yourself to a glass of water while you’re at it”

With that she finally walked away, her feet sore from the heels she’d been wearing all night, and her steps were a bit staggered, but she made it to the bathroom just fine.

Once she was out of sight Satoru let out a sigh, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head so that he could rub his eyes.

She clearly loved to torture him, by whatever means necessary.  And drunk (y/n) was rather cruel.

He’d yet to figure out what it was that had ruined her night, but he’d hoped that the playful change in attitude meant she was lightening up.

(Hoping she’d sober up didn’t seem probable, not until she passed out at least).

When he had texted Ieiri to try and figure out what (y/n’s) phone call was all about, she hadn’t given him any real answers.  Just to ‘be a grown man and figure it out himself’.  He’d tried asking her what the hell that meant but she set her phone to do not disturb pretty much after his first of many texts.

It wasn’t all that out of character for Ieiri to ignore him when he annoyed her too much.  (y/n) was the one acting out of character tonight.

Had she been upset with him for a while, and tonight was her breaking point? Maybe the alcohol got on top of her and she couldn’t contain her hatred for him anymore?

Satoru opened his dresser drawer a little more aggressively than he needed to, nearly pulling the whole thing clean out.  He sighed before carefully latching it back into place.

He just wanted to find what it was that he’d done so wrong. He was racking his brain of her behavior the last few weeks, trying to think of any little hint she could have given him that she wasn’t happy.  There was nothing that came to mind, she’d seemed her usual, happy, playful self.  Their friendship may have been based in nonsensical flirting, but it was a solid friendship.  She knew that he was there for her, right?

Staring down at the plain tee shirt and sweatpants that he’d grabbed for her, he wondered if that was the problem.  Maybe she was getting tired of his behavior.

The sinking feeling in his gut as soon as the thought crossed his mind told him that must’ve been it.

He hadn’t done anything, and that was just the problem, he hadn’t changed.  He hadn’t gotten better, which he should have, for her.

And he should have known this all along, because the minute he’d laid eyes on her he’d had a gut feeling about her.  He confirmed that feeling when they’d met, and every day since he’s found some excuse to be close to her, even if it meant bothering her, at least he’d get a smile with every annoyed eye roll she’d give him.

He held tightly onto the fabric in his hands.

He hadn’t been enough for her.

Something in him must have snapped, because with that thought he was heading right back out of his room.

And there was (y/n) standing in his living room, her back to him as she admired the only photo he had on the mantle.  It was an old picture of him and Ieiri, back when they were in school.  The picture was clearly folded, hiding someone behind itself.  It looked awkward in the frame, and he’d known for a while that he should just put a new picture in it, but he hadn’t brought himself to do so.

“I got you some clothes,” Satoru spoke, and (y/n) jumped a bit as she spun around.  “Sorry” He apologized on instinct.

“No, no I’m just surprised I didn’t hear you” She shook her head, before making her way over to him, taking the clothes from his hands.

She’d meant to take the offering and then leave, but something kept her there.  Maybe it was nerves, or maybe it was the fact that he’d left his sunglasses in his messy hair and she was able to look straight into his eyes, which was something that didn’t come around that often.

She thought maybe he’d say something, seeing as the longer the silence continued while they just stood there, the more awkward it became.  But he didn’t.  He just stared at her.  And he was the worst person to try to read, because he would never tell anyone what he was thinking, so there was never a chance in guessing.

With her teeth sawing into her cheek, (y/n) turns to make her way back to the bathroom to change.

Satoru waits in the living room, hands on his hips, in dead silence.

It remains silent when (y/n) returns from the bathroom, in a tee shirt that hangs on her like a dress and sweatpants that pool at her feet.  She looks like a toddler that had gotten into her parents’ closet.

Satoru can’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah.  Go ahead, make your jokes” (y/n) mutters, putting her hands up in mock surrender.

“What’s there to joke about?” He grins.  “It’s about time I got you in my clothes”

She raised a brow, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His grin falters, only for a moment, but long enough for her to catch it.  He just as quickly shakes his head, before pushing his sunglasses back down onto his nose.

“It means get to bed.  I’ll get you a glass of water, but you’ve got to drink all of it before you go to sleep, alright?”

(y/n) blinks.

“I’ll just stay here,” She says, elbow jutting towards the couch.  “Looks much nicer than the one in my office,” She adds, before taking account of the intricate details on the fine leather armrests.  “Probably costs more than the entire office actually” She mumbles.

“No, no, you’re staying in the bed,”

(y/n’s) not sure she’s ever heard him sound so firm.  She begins to think that she’ll just have to give in to the offer.

“Come on”

He beckons her to follow him, and without being told, her feet follow.  She finds herself walking on the tips of her toes, trying to remain as quiet as possible.

When they reach his doorway, she waits there, while he wanders in and pulls back the covers to his bed.

Even I have to admit that’s the most enticing bed I’ve ever seen in my life, she thinks, eyeing the plush comforter that covers the king-sized mattress.  Before he had pulled it open for her, it looked completely untouched.

“You don’t sleep here much, do you?” She asks as the thought crosses her mind.

She takes a few timid steps into the bedroom.

A small scoff escapes him before he turns back to her.

“Don’t sleep much at all”

She holds his gaze for a moment longer than she maybe should have, but she wasn’t expecting such a genuine, no, vulnerable, response.  It wasn’t often Satoru voiced how he really felt, but it seemed tonight he couldn’t help himself.

“Yeah,” (y/n) glances down at the floor, toes curling into the soft carpet.  “Me either”

With haste Gojo excuses himself from the room, muttering something about a glass of water.  (y/n) watches him go, feeling her shoulders slump.

Being left alone in his room makes a chill run down her spine.  It doesn’t quite feel right, like maybe she should stand in place, and not look at, and dare not touch anything.

Then there’s a part of her that presents itself, which begs her to act on her curiosities.

Luckily, the alcohol in her system was happy to be a little more impulsive than normal.

She wanders to his dresser first, eyeing the few things he had on top of it.  Her fingers slide across the smooth oak as she studies a framed photo.  It was a graduating class photo.  A small smile graced her lips at the sight of a familiar pair of sunglasses.  A young Shoko was also an amusing sight.

The sound of footsteps brought her back from her thoughts, and she quickly took a seat at the end of the bed.

Satoru strode in, glass of water in hand.

“Please try to drink all of this, okay?”

(y/n) simply nods, taking the glass, but she just stares down into it.  Gojo’s brows furrow.

“What, you need a lemon in it or something?”

“No,” She mumbles, before looking back at him.  “Satoru, I need to ask you something”

“No one ever likes hearing that, (y/n)” He chuckles.  But when he sticks his hands into his pockets, she takes it as her cue to go on.

“Why did you come?”

“To pick you up?” He asks.

He knows full well what she meant.

She nods her head in a small motion.

“I told you I was worried,” He answers.  “You should’ve heard yourself on the phone.  Pretty concerning stuff, (y/n/n).  Who knew you couldn’t hold your liquor”

Now (y/n) shakes her head.

“But why?”

Gojo shrugs, confused.  His lips purse and he doesn’t know what she expects him to say.

“Why?” He repeats, eyebrows forming a knot.  “Why was I worried?”

“Yeah,” (y/n’s) voice is as small as that of a child who’d just awoken from a nightmare.  “I mean, I was with Ieiri,” She adds.  “I would’ve been fine, it’s not like I was in any trouble”

“Well, it didn’t sound like it,” He sighs, and crouches down in front of her, so he could be at eye level with her as he spoke.  “After you called and then hung up on me, I reached out to her to try to figure out where you were and what was going on”

“You did?”

He nods, and hesitates a moment, before ultimately saying fuck it and continuing.

“Truth be told, she wasn’t much help either.  I think my two best girls had it out for me a little tonight, hm?”

His hand reaches out, taking a loose strand of her hair and carefully placing it behind her ear.  (y/n) hopes she’s not blushing, but she knows it’s a lost cause.  Satoru’s fingers linger near her jaw for a moment before he drops his hand.

“Is that why you were upset earlier?” He asks.  “You wanted to go with Ieiri? You were upset with me for coming?”

She stares into the dark glass that covers his eyes, getting lost in her own reflection as her drunken thoughts swirl around in her mind in a tornado of infatuation and fear.  She’s scared that if she opens her mouth too hastily, the wrong thing will come spilling out, and she’ll scare him off like a wild animal that didn’t know any better than to run.

And while it was difficult to navigate her thoughts at the moment, she knew that scaring him off was the last thing that she would ever want.

She reaches out to him this time.  She’s unsure if she’d be able to touch him, unsure if he would have put his infinity up as soon as he’d pulled his hand away from her just moments ago.

But to her surprise, she’s able to carefully take holds of his sunglasses.  She pauses, as if in shock, or maybe it was just her nerves, before she slowly begins to slide them off his face.  She was certain he would have told her to stop, or swat her hands away.  But again, tonight he was full of surprises, as he just sat there, and let her take them off.

As she folds them up and sets them on the mattress beside her, she’s careful not to dirty the lenses.

She gives herself just a few seconds to admire his eyes, before she finally answers him.

“No,”

Her voice is barely a whisper.  Satoru’s lucky he’s close enough to hear her.

“I was upset because…” (y/n’s) confidence was dwindling with every second that passed with his eyes on her like this.  

It was like she could see every bit of concern, and confusion, swirling within the pools of his irises.  It made her heart beat erratically in her chest.  It made her fingers curl into the edge of the mattress, gripping tightly to it like it were a lifeline.  It made her breaths short and every second longer than the last.

She was so hopelessly in love with him that sometimes it felt like she couldn’t even function.

“I’m drunk,” She sighs.

Gojo nods, dropping his gaze for a moment, defeated, certain that she was going to say forget it and bid him goodnight.  His eyes land on her hands, gripped around the edge of his mattress like a vice.  Her knuckles were white, and he thought she might even be trembling a bit.  He makes a mental note to grab her an extra blanket.

“And I hate everything,” She continues, instantly bringing his attention back to her.  Her eyes flicker between his, and her lips hesitate to say what she’s been dying to get off her chest for quite some time.  With a shaky breath, she mentally counts to three, and then whispers, “Everything except for you”

He’s frozen for a moment, staring at her with eyes so ablaze she could almost forget they were blue.  The corner of his lips tug ever so slightly upwards, and a sense of relief relaxes his tense muscles.

“I think that might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me, sweetheart,” He says.

His words are teasing, but his tone is as genuine as his smile.

He stands.

“Would you like me to tuck you in?” He asked, lifting the blanket next to her.

“Stay” She says, taking the blanket from him and pulling it back further, before sliding into the open space.

“What?” He asked, having heard her clearly.

“Stay,” (y/n) says again.  “With me”

He starts to shake his head, because it doesn’t exactly feel right.  She was drunk, she might not know what she’s saying, right?

But she pats the space next to her and gives him a small smile, and he thinks that she knows she’s making his heart melt.

“(y/n)-”

“Please?” She asks softly.  “Just till I fall asleep?”

He lets out a sigh, before nodding his head faintly.

(y/n) grins, and he quickly shoves her abandoned glass of water in her face.

“Take a few big drinks of this first,” He demands, which she quickly obliges to.  He almost laughs at how quickly she chugs half the glass down.  “Alright, alright, don’t choke” He chuckles, taking the cup back and setting it on his nightstand.

(y/n) shuffled under the covers before laying down.  She couldn’t contain the moan that came out upon laying her head on the most feathery pillow she’s ever felt.

Gojo looked over at her, with a brow raised and a wide smirk.

“This is the most comfortable pillow ever,” She breathed out.  “What is this, feathers?”

“I have no idea,” Satoru chuckles with amusement before sitting down on the bed.  “I’m glad you like it”

While he settles under the blanket, and tries his best to pretend like this was normal and they’d done this a thousand times before, (y/n) rolls onto her stomach to press her face into the feathery goodness.  She inhales deeply, taking in the clean smell of freshly washed sheets that always scratched the right itch in her mind.

Satoru admires her while she’s not paying attention to him.  Every one of his self-preserving instincts are telling him he needs to go- that she should be alone for the night and staying here with her couldn’t possibly be good.  It would make him look vulnerable if he stayed.

But then (y/n) rolls onto her back, her eyes catching his in the process, and he lays down, resting his head on his pillow.

It is pretty comfy.

“Okay if I turn the lights off now?” He asked.

(y/n) hums an affirmative tune, and Gojo doesn't even have to sit up to reach the lamp on the bedside table, tugging the little string and submerging them in darkness.

It’s silent for a moment, and he assumes that she also thinks that the dark added another layer of intimacy that neither one of them planned on for the evening.

After a minute or so, (y/n) shuffles around under tha blankets, rolling onto her side and facing him.  He turns his head to find her looking at him.  Even in the dark he can faintly make out the soft features of her face.

“Thank you, Satoru,” She says softly.  “I… I hate sleeping alone”

He nods back at her, before mirroring her position.  He hooks an arm under his pillow to get more comfortable before speaking.

“Anytime” He hums.

“That so?” She responds, raising an eyebrow curiously.

“Yeah,” He shrugs a shoulder.  “Might take a while to get your apartment fixed up.  If you need somewhere to crash for a while… you could stay here a bit longer”

(y/n’s) heart does a little backflip in her chest, or at least it feels like it.  She added ‘hospitality’ to her mental checklist of things that made him more attractive to her.

“Yeah, well, I dunno.  Appreciate it though,” She mumbles.  Her finger absentmindedly drew patterns on the sheets.  “I’ve kinda been a shitty guest so far, huh?”

“You?” He muses, and then shakes his head.  “You could never”

(y/n) lets out a humorless laugh.

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for seeing your place for the first time” She says, and she regrets it almost as soon as it leaves her mouth.

“Oh?” Satoru chimes.  “And what did you have in mind sweetheart? Less clothes perhaps? Hm, or perhaps more rose petals, a bit of wine-?”

“Yeah yeah laugh it up Satoru,” (y/n) rolls her eyes.  “That’s not what I meant”

“You maybe meant it a little like that though” He teases.

(y/n) shakes her head, looking up at the ceiling as if it were going to tell her how to handle this idiotically charming man.

“I would’ve liked it to be on better terms” She admits.

Satoru turns off the act, but his smile remains as he continues to pry her into opening up more.

“Well, what did you have in mind, then?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” (y/n) shrugs.  “Realistically it probably would’ve been you begging me to come help you with the paperwork you procrastinate so much on,” She muses, her imagination beginning to roll it’s film.  “But… a movie might have been nice.  Or drinks, or something”

Her thoughts get away from her for a bit as she imagines Satoru inviting her to his place, how he would have answered the door and ushered her in, taking her coat, showing her around his place.  He’d probably be over the top with his enthusiasm, but she would have found it charming like she always does.

“Sounds like a date” He hums.

Slowly, her gaze wanders from the ceiling to where he’s laying, still on his side, still studying her as though he were trying to complete a puzzle in the dark.

She laughs softly to herself.

He thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever heard.

“I don’t think you’re capable of such a thing,” She murmurs.  “That’s why I’m here now, like this” Her hand gestures vaguely in the air.

“Like this?” He repeats, hoping for clarity once again.

(y/n) hesitates, anxiety attacking her mind and her fondness-warmed heart.

“Don’t you think if we were to do such a ludicrous thing as a date, we would have done it by now?” She asks him.  “I don’t think that the Gojo Satoru can be tamed by just any one woman, after all” She adds with another short laugh, hoping to lighten the mood and clear her own anxieties.

He laughs with her, and she’s relieved that she didn’t upset him, but she can’t deny that her heart sinks a little in her chest.

His tongue darts out to wet his suddenly dry lips before he ignores his need to keep up a barrier with everyone he knows, and shuffles a little bit more towards her.  Her eyes noticeably widen as he does this, which he enjoys more than he should have.

“You’re not just any woman, sweetheart,” He murmurs.  

He’s close enough to her now that she can faintly feel his warm breath against her nose and lips.  Her heart can barely keep up with the gymnastics it was doing.

“But you’re right, I suppose, I don’t think I can be tamed either.  But I’d happily let you prove me wrong, any day.  Or, well, night”

It must be the alcohol, but she swore her entire body felt like someone had poured gasoline over her and dropped a match.

“You can’t do that” Her lips trembled.

“Can’t do what?”

“You can’t-” She takes in a short breath of air she didn’t realize she needed.  “You can’t just say things like that”

He chuckles, humored greatly by her nervous display.

“Why’s that?” He asks, his smirk only widening as he catches her gaze darting down towards his mouth, before meeting his eyes again.

A knot forms between (y/n’s) brows.

“Because tomorrow I’m going to wake up and you won’t be here, and tomorrow I’ll go home like none of this ever happened.  As if the whole point of going out tonight wasn’t to forget you, only for you to show up anyways and remind me of all the reasons why I should be forgetting you in the first place.  And then we’ll go back to work and you’ll continue to mess with me by flirting with me and I don’t know what to do anymore because- because it’s not funny anymore Satoru I’m actually-”

She stops herself before she could admit she actually was in love with him.  But it didn’t matter anyhow, because she’d already admitted enough to make him question her.

“You went out drinking to forget me?” He asks.

“No” She lies.

“That’s what you just said”

“No I didn’t”

“Yes… you did.  You said the whole point of going out tonight was to forget me,”

(y/n) doesn’t say anything.  It’s not like denying it was working, he’d obviously heard her, and even if she was a good liar, he was an even better lie detector.

“You got drunk to forget that you… you have feelings for me? Romantic feelings? You feel romantically about me?”

She stays silent.  It seems like the safest option at the moment.  She’d ruled out lying, and running away wasn’t exactly an option either.  Maybe she could pretend to fall asleep?

“(y/n),” His hand reaches out, resting on top of hers, halting her erratic doodling on the sheets.  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What was I supposed to say?” She whispers, a small, sad smile on her face.  “That I fell for the whole stupid act and couldn’t get over it?”

Gojo shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, what act?” He asks.  “I’ve been flirting with you since- well, since we met, I’m pretty sure down to the day.  It wasn’t some act, sweetheart.  Every compliment or innuendo or invitation, all of it, I meant all of it,”

(y/n) blinks, her lips parted as she tried to process what he was saying.  Her mind wasn’t as fuzzy as it was an hour and a half ago, but with all of the new information, she was having trouble processing all of it.

“You think I never meant it when I told you how beautiful you are? Or perfect? Or brilliant? Or strong? You thought I was just messing with you?”

“Satoru…” (y/n) shakes her head, the gears in her mind all jammed up by his words.

“Sweetheart, tell me, why in the world do you think I would drop everything in a heartbeat to come pick your drunk mopey ass from the shittiest bar in town? And do you really think I’m so terrible at getting my paperwork done that I need your help and only your help with it every week?” He chuckles to himself.  “Sweetheart, have a little more faith in me”

Her throat burns hot, and she realizes then that she’s been fighting the urge to let her eyes water.

“What are you-” Her words are almost whimpered, and she pauses to catch her breath before speaking again.  “What are you saying then, you’ve h-had feelings for me this whole time?”

His lips curl into a smile, and he takes his hand off of hers, so that he can reach closer, and lay his palm against her jaw, fingers brushing gently against her cheekbone.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” He murmurs, his eyes following his index finger as he draws small shapes into her skin.  “So… do you still want to forget about me?”

Her quivering lips curl into a smile, and a tear slips from her eye.

“It didn’t work anyways,” She says in a hushed whisper.  “I ended up calling you anyways, didn’t I?” She reminds him.  Her tear slides against his thumb, and he hurriedly brushes it away.  “I fear forgetting you isn’t going to work”

“Good,” He says, grinning ear to ear.  “So that means I can invite you to my place for drinks? Or to do my paperwork for me?”

“A date?” She hums.

He nods his head.

“Okay”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” She says again, smiling so wide it hurts.  “Yeah, okay, I’ll do that”

He’s smiling back at her, his thumb stroking gently back and forth against her cheek.  Her poor heart was about to combust.

She leans in closer to him, her nose brushing into his, prodding softly as she closes her eyes, letting all of her other senses take him in.  The warmth that bled from his hand against her jaw.  The way he smells like pine, and fruit.

Just as she’s about to close the distance, he beats her to it.

His lips slide over hers with ease, as though he’s kissed her infinite times before now.

She melts almost instantly, kissing him back as softly as she could, trying to contain the overwhelming sense of urgency inside of her.

Satoru drops his hand from her cheek, and it briefly rests on her shoulder before sliding to her hip, so that he can pull her in closer to him.  

Her lips, her body, they feel pleasantly warm against him in a way he’d never felt before.  

When she parts from him, her forehead resting against his as she tries to quietly catch her breath.  A small chuckle escapes him as he brings his hand back to her face, cupping her cheek and leaning back just enough that he can get a proper look at her.

“Sweetheart,” He hums.  “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that”

Her smile tells him she knows just how long it was.

He steals another kiss from her, and he tries to be quick, but he just can’t help but hold his breath a little longer, for just a few seconds more of her soft lips against his.

“Satoru,” She murmurs against his lips when they part again.  “I’m in love with you”

“I’m in love with you too, sweetheart,” He replies, punctuated with another kiss.  “Stay the week with me” He requests, before kissing her again.

“The whole week?” She hums in between another.

“Mhm” Is all he’s able to respond with, his mouth far too occupied to carry a conversation.  (y/n) giggles until he leans back.

“And you don’t think people will notice when I show up to work with you at the same time every day?” She muses.

“Let them notice” He sighs, prodding his nose against hers as his lips search for hers once more.  

“And our students?”

This time she steals a small kiss.

“You don’t think they’ll be happy for me?” He murmurs, and she giggles again.

“I think your students might tease you a bit” She suggests.

Gojo shakes his head, grinning at her.

“They’re just jealous,” He affirms.  “Because I’ve got the prettiest, dopest girl in the whole school”

She laughs louder, bursts of bubbling giggles filling the room as she shakes her head at his ridiculousness.  But as silly as it was, her cheeks were warm with a flattered blush.

“We can talk about you staying tomorrow,” Satoru tells her, tucking her hair behind her ear.  “Why don’t you get some rest tonight, and I’ll make you a nice breakfast to cure your hangover tomorrow, and we’ll talk about it then, hm?”

She sits there for a minute, smiling at him, at his sweet smile and pretty eyes.  Her heart has never felt more full than it was right now, and she thinks maybe this is the first time she’s ever truly loved someone.  She could sit here for hours and stare at him.  Unbeknownst to her, he was thinking the same thing.

“Sounds like a plan” She murmurs.

“Alright then,” Satoru has to bite on his cheek to keep himself from grinning like a madman.  “Get some beauty sleep.  I’ll be here when you wake up”

He rolls onto his back, sliding his arm around her shoulders to keep her close to him as he lets his eyes fall shut.

He can’t quite hear, but he can feel her lips move softly against his neck as she mumbles something he can only perceive as a bid goodnight.  With a smile on his face, he runs a hand through her hair, carefully untangling it with ease.  He only has to lean forward a little bit to press his lips to the crown of her head.

“Goodnight, sweetheart” He murmurs back to her, followed by another, softer kiss.

[ i’ve got my mind on you ] ___

a/n: squealed and kicked my feet thru most of writing this btw :3

[jfleamont]

never, sometimes, all the time

a snippet from my upcoming uni/band au - 1701 words

The kitchen is scarcely lit and there's a faint smell of burnt eggs. Someone cooked during the party, probably Marlene. Nevermind that this isn’t her flat; the boys don’t mind. They’ve known her for a couple of months, but they welcomed her with open arms, just like they did with Lily. They’re good, she thinks. These kids are good. They let her smoke inside the house tonight— well, James did. She only smokes every once in a while. Mostly when she’s nervous.

He's sitting across from her, one arm draped across the chair beside him, his head thrown back. His eyes are closed and his lips are slightly upturned; he looks content. Lily thinks he's smiling. 

No, he definitely is.

Maybe it's the alcohol in his system. Or the music, which is still playing, though at a much lower volume than before; the others are already in their rooms, passed out, so they don’t care. This is just for the two of them.

She doesn’t know why she hasn’t left.

“You didn't keep your word,” she tells him. He'd promised Sirius he wouldn't get drunk. They hadn't said why, and only exchanged what looked like a meaningful look that she couldn’t decipher. Not yet, at least.

He chuckles, his eyes still closed. “I've only had one drink. And I didn't know you paid so much attention to me.”

“Remind me not to do it again. Also, it was a Long Island Iced Tea. A strong one, from the looks of it.”

He shrugs. “The situation called for it.”

She leans forward on the table, lowering her voice just a little. “Is this about Peter?”

“No. Maybe. I don't know.”

She waits for him to continue. He does. “It's just that we were so close to being great.” A humourless laugh, “Maybe I'm kidding myself. We weren't close at all.”

She notes the perfectly relaxed line of his brows. Maybe it’s just because he’s tired, but there’s no hint of anger on his face. “You don't seem too bothered by this, though.”

“Oh, well, I'm doing okay now. It's not too bad, I suppose.”

Lily snorts, and knows that he isn’t lying. “Yeah?”

He opens his eyes - they’re tired and soft like she’s never seen them - and fixes them on her.

“Yeah.”

“Always the optimist, you.”

He mirrors her position, resting his chin on his palm. “I had a good night, that's all.”

“I don't think that's all.”

“You’re right, it's not,” he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. He laughs quietly, a hint of anxiety colours his voice.

“So? Tell me,” she prompts him.

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and looks behind her for a moment. “I have a plan. Mind you, not a good one, but it's a plan. It's sort of insane and if I'm being honest, it’s probably the worst idea I've ever had.”

“Are we still talking about the band or…?” 

“I found a solution for next week's gig,” he announces grandly, smiling from ear to ear. The only thing that is missing is the jazz hands.

“You found a bassist? That was quick. Who is it?” 

“You.”

She blinks. Several times. James’ smile has faded a little, and his expression looks careful.

“You've got to be joking.”

“Told you it was a crazy idea.”

Lily doesn’t want to think about the implications of this. Being friends with the people Severus couldn’t stand was one thing, but actually performing with them? That couldn’t happen. It’s not like she cares about him anymore. No, that’s not it. Maybe a part of her misses him still, and she used to be a people pleaser when she was around him, but this has nothing to do with that. It’s the fact that she has been questioning every single decision she has made ever since she left Severus behind. With him, it felt right… until it didn’t. Who’s to say that this won’t happen again? She doesn’t trust herself anymore, and this is brand new territory.

“You want me to join your band. You?”

James sits up straighter and gives her a funny look. “Why do you sound so surprised? You're brilliant.”

“But… I can't.”

“You can't or you won't?”

“Can't! How am I supposed to learn your entire setlist by next week?” she exclaims. She doesn’t mean to raise her voice, but she can’t help it. The more she thinks about this, the less confident she feels.

“Actually it would be better by Wednesday.”

He doesn’t look apologetic at all. Strange, since he was so worried about asking her a minute ago. Either he’s mad - and this is a very real possibility - or he just believes she can do it, which, really, is another form of insanity. 

She tells him so. “You're not right in the head.”

“Evans—”

“I've got two papers to submit by the end of next week! There's no way I can play with you,” she says in a whispered shout, and now she’s the one with her hands in her hair.

He’s grinning. “But you want to.”

She suppresses a smile at his bravado, but he’s right. “I want to help you. But I can't.”

He leans in conspiratorially, and his enthusiasm almost wins her over. Almost. “Come on, it would be fun! And it's just a one time thing, okay? Or at least until we find a new bassist.” 

“Can't believe you're asking me this.”

“Please?”

He’s not pouting, but he might as well be, and Lily can’t deny it: she’s thought about this exact scenario. She’s seen them on stage, she knows how good they are: they’re miles better than everyone else in their local music scene, really, and Lily can’t help but wonder if she’ll feel out of place up there. She loves performing, but being in a band with Severus showed her how awful it feels to be overshadowed by someone else, and she doesn’t want a repeat of that.

“… Can I think about it?”

James’ eyes light up. “Is this a yes?”

“It’s a question.”

“Of course you can think about it! Take a couple of days,” he waves a hand around and sits back in his chair, looking triumphant. Lily smiles; she’s about to burst his bubble. 

“Hmm,” she rubs her chin contemplatively, “What do I get in return, though?”

He furrows his brows, not expecting her question. “Oh… We're not getting paid for this gig, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I know, Potter,” she deadpans, rolling her eyes, but there’s no real annoyance in her tone. “I've performed there too. I'm talking about something else.”

The side of his mouth quirks up. Cheeky boy. “Anything in particular?”

“I'll let you know. After the gig,” she adds nonchalantly.

“What if I refuse?”

“These are my terms. Take it or leave it.”

James is thinking hard, by the looks of it. She doesn’t know what kind of favour she’ll ask him, but simply knowing that she has the upper hand in this situation makes her euphoric. He knows he’s signing away his soul if he agrees. She still hasn’t decided if she’s going to mess with him or not. Perhaps she’ll be nice about it.

“Fuck it. It's a deal,” he extends an arm to shake her hand and she’s about to do the same when a thought occurs.

“Hang on, did you say this was the worst idea you’ve ever had? What the fuck?”

“Shot myself in the foot, haven’t I?”

“I’m giving you one chance to recover from this. One.”

“Fuck,” he covers his face with his hands, and she thinks he’s blushing a little but she isn’t sure. “Remus is much better at this. He was supposed to broach the subject but he refused to, thinks I’m mental.”

She drops her smile and freezes. “Is he even okay with this? And Sirius?”

“Don’t worry, they both think you’re great. Sirius says you’re the female Flea.”

She beams at the compliment and relaxes into the seat. “Do you agree?”

His eyes roam around her face and Lily feels warm all over. It only lasts a moment, and then he’s smirking again. “You’re easier on the eyes, so…”

Right. He’s just messing with her. 

“Twat,” she responds, and kicks his chair.

His gaze softens. “But to me you’re more Macca than Flea,” James continues, tilting his head to the side as he studies her once again.

“He was fit when he was younger, not going to lie,” she deflects, because she knows she’s talented - she does! - but she feels the impostor syndrome kick in any time she is compared to another great bassist‒ she has a list; Paul McCartney is at the top. Wait, is James aware of this? She hopes not.

He laughs and nods vigorously. “Especially in the late ‘60s with that beard.”

“Shame he never grew it out again after that,” she sighs, and feels the tension dissipate.

James raises an eyebrow. “Wanna watch the Get Back documentary?”

She’s pretty sure he’s joking, but the last time she saw it she cried, and she doesn’t have the strength to hold back the tears in front of him. Besides, her eyelids feel so heavy that she would probably fall asleep ten minutes in, and she’d rather sleep in a bed tonight. “As much as I’d love to, you’re dead on your feet and I’m not doing much better so… I’d better walk home.”

James sits up straight, suddenly very alert. “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

He gets up from the chair and grabs the remote. “I don’t want to walk in the cold and neither do you,” he says with his back to her as he turns off the music, “so just do me a favour and use my bed.”

She can’t possibly sleep on James Potter’s bed. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s not up for debate,” his tone is resolute but he’s wagging his finger at her, which makes him look kind of ridiculous. “The sheets are clean, changed them this morning.”

“I can’t let you—”

“I’ll take the sofa, goodnight.”

And with that he walks to the bathroom and closes the door.

[i4longhairchris]

I HATE BOSTON - Chris sturniolo×Reader

Hey everyone!! This was the first time I wrote a story in English (which btw is not my first language) so I apologize for any mistakes and pls lemme know if you find any!! This is just a silly angst, don't be rude pls

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

The music drowned out the conversation, but I knew exactly what was going on. Chris was talking to a girl, smiling the same way he did when we first met.

As much as I try to forget, the memories are etched in my memory like fucking tattoos. The way he showed Boston with a smile on his face, so proud of his city, told stories from his childhood and showed off his strong accent.

We were just friends. I mean, we kiss sometimes, especially when the drink or neediness talks louder, but we never went beyond… friends. And Chris seemed happy with our situation. He kissed as many mouths as he wanted and there was always this idiot waiting for him when the party ended. On the other hand, I couldn't hide the way my heart broke every time I was forced to see him with other girls.

As I feel tears forming in my eyes, I decide that I'm just too tired of this shit. I walk towards the door as if my life depended on it, when I hear Chris calling my name, but I don't stop walking until I finally leave that party that seemed to take all the breath from my lungs.

I was staying at the Sturniolo house during my stay in Boston. I tiptoed until I reached the guest room, which, conveniently, was next to Chris's.

When the crying finally wears me out, sleep wins and I feel my eyes getting heavy, but a loud noise wakes me up. I hear a curse, and I know it's Chris even before he opens the door to my room.

"What's up? You seemed weird earlier at the party, you didn't even talk to me." Chris says, sitting down next to me in bed. His slightly messy hair, slurred speech and the smell of beer gave away his state.

"I'm just tired, Chris. You should go back to one of your girlfriends, I'm sure they're in a better mood than I am." I sigh, pulling the covers up to hide my face.

"Lucky for you, I want to stay right here, even with your bad mood." Chris laughs, pulling the covers up and grabbing my chin so I look at him. When I push his hand away and get up from the bed, the boy's eyebrows furrow. "What's your problem? You've been acting like an asshole all day!"

"My problem? You're my problem! I'm tired of being your consolation prize when the party's over, the beer's no longer fun and the pretty girls are gone." My voice comes out shaky. I was startled when I heard the words coming out of my lips. It was almost as if my conscience had lost the battle with my emotional side. Sure, I had planned that fight several times in my head, but I never thought I would have the courage. Having a little bit of Chris was better than having nothing.

"What the fuck, y/n! What is this all about? Are you mad at me because I didn't spend all fucking night with you or...?”

"I’m mad cause I don't want to be your fucking friend! I don't... I don't want to be just your friend, Chris. I've been in love with you since day one. When you showed me the most hidden places in Boston, I was so, so sure that we could work. And I still am! We could work if you just tried."

"You know damn well that I don't want to be in a relationship, y/n. I never gave you any expectations about it. I showed you Boston because you were like a tourist or some shit like that... If you imagined things, that's not my problem." Chris answers. My words seem to have affected him, but he doesn't allow any reaction to be shown for too long, soon returning to his neutral expression. I laugh, too tired of that shit. “You’re probably drunk… I should leave. Tomorrow we can try to talk if you're not acting all this crazy.”

"Actually, I should leave. I'll get a ticket back to New York and we don't have to have any fucking conversation in the morning. You should be happy, I mean, since you're so afraid of feeling any shit!”

Chris shakes his head in denial and stands up, holding my hand and murmuring "baby" in the tone that used to make me forget my own name.

“But if I can give you a advice before you leave this fucking town… When your friends get tired, the girls get sick of your games, and you're all alone, don't say I didn't try. Cause i tried so hard, Chris..."

"No! Please, y/n. I'll get better, I..." I could have sworn I saw tears in his blue eyes. He just hugs me.

"Chris, let me go.” I leave his arms wipe away the tears that ran down my cheeks. “And just so you know… I hate Boston! As far as I'm concerned, they should just burn this whole city down"

[redwayfarers]

house of grief and sunlight

fandom: wayfarer ship: cassander/aisanne characters: cassander inteus, aisanne bjornsdottir rating: gen words: 1625 note: this is my entry for @idrellegames' three year anniversary event! prompt i'd chosen is paramour - expected of me, i know - but i've hardly written about cass' bisexuality and i felt like it needed to be written about! excuse the ya-sounding title lmao i could not resist also, aisanne is a gw2 oc that i've ported to wayfarer. she lives over on @i-mybrunettelady most of the time :) divider credit

I am tired of grief.  I don’t know if it ever goes away, but for fuck’s sake, I’m so tired of it. It’s summer, though, and a part of me feels like the sun will chase it away, if only for a day or two. Our house needs the sun right now. Grief hangs over it like a veil, and we don’t speak of it, but maybe the rays that come through our window each morning help. 

Or so I hope. Hope’s a stupid thing by and large, because every time I hope something happens it decidedly doesn’t, as if the gods above or whoever sits and watches this farce of an existence keeps laughing at me and says, “Add more!” But I can’t help but wish, in my heart of hearts, that sometimes, maybe one day in this lifespan that’s entirely too long for one guy, I don’t feel like a tossed out, crapped on kitten on the streets. 

It’s summer. That feels important to repeat to self. I am feeling a little less grief. The room around me is loud and messy and sounds jump from one place to another like rabbits, in a cacophony ruled over by the harmonious noise of music. Sanne’s the one behind the harp, golden under the candlelight, and if she was a different woman, she’d be singing in a Meissandic temple. 

She cares little for the traditional rites, though. She cares little for the chants I’d attended once or twice when I was a kid. She looked at me all confused when I told her how courtly, Vestran services happen, and said, in a strange tone, “I don’t understand how people like that.” I don’t understand either, and thank fuck I’m not a Vestran aristocrat anymore. 

Her place is telling stories of heroes and events long gone, to be a musical wayfarer. She’s doing that tonight. I was drunk when we first met here and she had to hold my hair while I was throwing up, apparently. Can’t say I remember that attractive trait about myself. I’m not drunk right now, however, sitting near the small wooden stage, taking small sips of my cider. The drink is irrelevant; she captures my attention more than any alcohol could. 

She’s radiant and shiny, half covered in shadows, which makes her golden crest stand out. The bright sheen of her golden hair disappears and reappears after the movements of her head. I can’t see her freckles clearly from here, but I can see the ink on her neck, the roundness of her full lips, an occasional yellow in the blues of her eyes when the candlelight reflects off them. I’m not blind to beauty, but there’s beauty in a way a finely made building is beautiful, and a way a person is beautiful. 

You don’t wanna fuck buildings, do you? And if you do, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?

Others are looking at her too. That doesn’t matter, because it’s my bed who she comes to tonight. Or is it me coming to hers? Not fucking important. 

These feelings are new. For most of my life, interest like this fell to men. Part of me wonders if I’m just that desperate for any kind of tenderness in my life that my head would start making up attraction; but the way this feels can’t be anything but a solid fucking reality. Women were always beautiful the way buildings were, but now they’re flesh and bone and soul and personality and there’s something so weirdly appealing about that that it catches me off guard. 

Not all women are your mother, you dumb fuck. 

I know, but women have never been.. This. I think about Sanne when she’s away. I watch her practice for the performances, mesmerized. There’s peace and blood rushing to my face when we’re laughing in bed, or making lunch, or eating, or just existing in the same space. My insides get all twisted up, like I’m a kid again crushing on older Wayfarers. It’s like Senna again, and I simply forgot how it feels like to be crushing on someone this bad. 

Nothing will ever happen between us, however. It would be so crappy to prey on a widow’s feelings. She rarely speaks of her dead husband, but he’s not even that cold as far as dead people go; maybe a little more than us Wayfarers, but not by much. Our living together is a result of loneliness, desperation, not a desire to find a partner again. But I was dumb enough to pretend I didn't see it. 

She’s cooking, some days after her performance. Sun is shining through the window, leaving her figure in semi-shadows and catching on the ends of her shiny, metallic hair. She’s not as glamorous as she was at the show; right here is a Sanne that’s more down to earth, more solid, dressed comfortably, not worried about how she’s perceived. I’m folding clothes nearby and doing a half-assed job of it, too. It’s hard to concentrate some days over the deafening noise of all this fucking attraction confusion business. 

Every so often she turns back to look at me with a strange smile on her face. “That’s what I wore to Kiaran’s funeral,” she says suddenly. I jerk and drop my gaze to the dress in my hands. Sunlight washes away its dark color in places. There are little holes in it that I want to sew shut, but I don’t have her consent to. She’s weirdly sentimental about it. 

My Spire didn’t have a funeral, and us survivors only have ashes as funerary garb. 

“What’s this stain again?” I ask, raising the dress and jerking my head in the direction of the big, grayish blob on the skirt. “I keep forgetting!” 

She sighs and throws a full, peeled onion at me. It hits me right in the forehead and the poor plant, already under threat, pricks my eyes. “You’re horrible,” I say in mock offense. “You don’t want your dress to stink, do you?” 

“I’m not burying anyone anytime soon,” she says lowly, in a tone that implies I’m hitting a boundary. I wince and put the dress down, careful of the location of the onion. 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I approach, gently placing the vegetable on the table. She gives me a hard look. “I shouldn’t have joked about the dress. It means a lot to you and I tend to joke around, right, about the things that I’m sensitive about so people don’t attack me for it first? Offense is the best defense kinda thing? And I forget that sometimes - a lot of the time - people don’t function the way my fucked up head does?”

Shut up, Cassander. You’re making it worse.

Something tightens my throat, like hands choking me from the inside out. I grip the table and swallow thickly. My stomach twists up, and the smell and feel of onion fills the kitchen and I can only focus on the dents in the dark wood beneath my fingers and the uneven pattern freckles of my hand. 

“Cassander,” Sanne says. Her tone is too much for me to analyze right now, try as I might. “Cass.” 

“What?” 

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” 

“Picking at your scar. Stop it.” 

I lower my hand from my face and grip the edges of my tunic. The edges of my braid - I need to take care of those ugly fucking ends one of these days - tickles my hand. You’re scaring people. Enjoy your lifetime of solitude, whether you’re actually into women or not. Who would want someone as shaky and deranged as you are? 

Vestra should’ve killed you, if you were so determined to go back. 

“I’m sorry,” I murmur to my feet. 

“I’m not angry. If you pushed, I would’ve been, greatly so. But you didn’t. Stop shaking like a leaf.” There’s something in her tone that feels like cold water to the face. I breathe out and blink away a small selection of tears. Saltiest one always drops first! I’m imagining a little tear race now, little tear spectators cheering the racers on, tear savants testing the levels of salt in each one. The thought makes me giggle and I bury my head in my hands as I laugh. 

“I’m not angry with you,” she repeats, gentler than before. Her voice is still as steely, though. “Go finish the laundry while I make lunch.”

Without a word, I retreat to my location at the corner of the room, where still wet clothes wait to be sorted and hung to dry. I put the dress to the side and continue sorting through the clothes; sometimes, I look at her, her back turned to me, and the shaking of my hands grows for a split second. 

I try my best not to cry. Better save that energy for the worst of the shitshow that I know is yet to come.

I’ve forgotten that this is a house of grief and no sunlight can fix it. And I’ve walked over her grief in the same way I would walk over my own, but where I’m used to it, she isn’t. And even when we go to the same bed that night, seemingly forgetting what happened, and even when the sun rises the morning after, this is still a place where two grieving people decided to seek comfort because being broken together is somehow better than being broken alone. 

No summer nor new kinds of sex can fix the holes in your heart. 

I am tired of grief.  I don’t know if it ever goes away, but for fuck’s everloving and everlasting sake, I’m so tired of it.

[yesbutmakeitgay]

Once Upon A Time I Used To Know A Girl

Chapter 18

Carol Danvers x Reader

Masterlist | This work's masterlist | AO3

Summary: Deep conversation with a hungover Carol Danvers.

Angst, Slow Burn, Amnesia.

Word count: 901

A/N: : @cordeliasdarling quite enjoyed this chapter when betaing it :)

Why Am I The One Falling Apart?

When you wake up again there's still light outside, but probably not for long. You take a shower and put on clean clothes after being in your tux for almost 24 hours.

You go to the kitchen to get an unhealthy snack and find a blonde head buried in its arms on the counter and a half empty sports drink beside her. You dig through the cabinets and find a cereal bar, the head moves making you turn around, "Are you sure you're alive?" you ask.

"No." the head mumbles.

"Did you throw up any more?" The head shakes 'no.' You start second guessing your conversation from last night, "What do you remember?" The irony of your question is not lost in you.

Carol finally lifts her head with her eyes tightly shut, "We got to the party, we were having a great time, all of a sudden you disappeared, I found the bar, had a few drinks, saw Val, started talking to her, next thing I know it's morning and you're in my room, but not in the fun way."

"Why'd you drink so much?"

She opens her eyes into a frown, "What are you, my father?"

"No, he's dead and I’m not."

"Fortunately." She downs the rest of her sports drink.

You sit right in front of her, "Why are you lying to me, Captain?" she squints, "When you woke up this morning you said, 'you're still here,' which means you knew I was there last night."

"I-" she's dumbfounded.

"What are you so afraid of?" You repeat her words back to her. She tries to leave but you stop her, "Uh-uh, I answered your question, now you have to answer mine."

She looks you dead in the eye, "You."

"Me? You kicked my ass twice just last week."

"When I found you after our last mission I realized that I didn't know what I would do if you didn't make it, I couldn't live with losing you like that," she pauses, "instead, I lost you like this. Sometimes I feel like it would have been easier to lose you like that, no offense."

"Non taken, I feel like that too." Your eyes go down to your lap.

"Hey, I’m glad you're alive, I’m glad you're getting better." She places her hand on yours making you lift your head again.

"Am I, though? I meant what I told you, no matter where I go or how long it's been I still feel like I’m missing something. At least before, I knew there was something they weren't telling me, but now, am I gonna be broken forever?"

"You're not broken, I’m sorry I wasn't here before, but I promise you I'm here now, for good." That is the first sincere thing you’ve heard her say since you met her again.

"See, that should make me feel better, but it doesn’t." You get up to leave.

"Come on, don’t go," Carol’s voice is sweet, her gaze alternating between your eyes.

"What’s the point of staying?" you sit back down, "They took you from me, that should make me angry, I should be hurt, but whenever I look at you all I feel is indifference," her heart drops to her stomach, "you know what the worst part is? I don't know if that's the result of what they did to me or if it is because you ran away." Your voice turns into a mere whisper.

"I was scared, I’m so sorry."

"Yeah, you said that when you were drunk."

"I meant it." Her features light up as she raises an eyebrow, "You didn't look so indifferent when I picked you up last night" You’re caught like a deer in headlights.

"That’s not fair, you know everything about me, I didn't even know your name until two weeks ago," you appeal.

"All is fair in love and war," she responds in an arrogant tone.

"This is neither! This is my life that you took away from me." You stop yourself from slamming your fist on the counter.

"You think I've been having a blast this whole time? I cried for weeks, I mourned you."

"I’m not dead!" you scream.

"But you will never be the person you were before. The amount of guilt I have in my heart I don't think I'll ever get rid of." You scoff, "When you couldn't remember me because I was gone, that was one thing, when no one would tell you about me, but now I’m here, you've seen me, we've talked, we've trained together and you still don't remember."

"That was the whole point, they took you from me to hurt you." It’s the first time you truly internalize what happened to you, you weren’t even the target of the aggression, yet, you’re the one suffering all its consequences.

After a moment of contemplating your words Carol speaks again, "I have this device that helps recover lost memories," she leaves out the part where it is usually employed for torture, "if you want I could lend you one, see if it helps."

"No, thank you," you’re quick to answer.

"Well, if you change your mind-"

"I won’t," you interrupt, "my recovery has been tampered with since day one, I want to feel like I’m in control." Carol knows exactly how that feels. The kindness behind her gesture hits a soft spot in your chest.

Chapter 19

👀👀

Tags: @graniairish @carols-photonblast @thelittleliars @unicorniusfallapatorius @prplepeony @eringranola

Let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

[hannahssimblr]

“Evan, can I sit?”

He glances up at me and shrugs, patting the ground next to him so I slump down heavily on it and take a healthy gulp from my bottle. 

“You good, man?”

“Yeah, amazing.”

“I, uh, I see you were chatting to Leah, there? You know each other?”

“Nah.”

“Really? Well... she’s a weirdo anyway, you’re better off getting away from her, like, I just sell her weed and stuff, I don’t really like when she hangs around too long.”

“Yeah, fair enough.” 

“Was she being weird with you?” 

“Nope.” 

We’re silent as we watch the flames. I begin to wonder what time it is, and whether I've stayed long enough now for it to be acceptable to go home. As I watch all of the other friends around the fire have fun together I’m struck by how much of an outsider I really am. Sure, Rob and Katie are nice, but will any of that niceness extend into normal life with the eyes of everyone else at school upon us? Surely they will go back to the steps at the back of the school while I go back to the rugby changing rooms, or the library, as it may be and things will resume as they are, as they've always been and always will be. Realistically, would they ever be seen with me? Would I ever be seen with them? There's this weird, empty feeling in me, a feeling that just compounds day after day, month after month, year after year, and it's like I don’t belong anywhere or to anyone. I'm just floating in the in-between, and who even am I? What does it mean to even-

“Hey,” Evan interrupts my spiralling inner dialogue, “I meant to say to you that it’s cool that you came along, you know, even when Jen and Michelle didn’t.”

This takes me by surprise, “You think?”

“Yeah, I mean, I suppose I kind of thought you were just hanging out with us sometimes because of them, and that you didn’t really want to be there, but,” a shrug, “I suppose that isn’t true.”

“No, I like hanging out with you.”

“And it’s not just because you’ve been ostracised by your other friends?”

I hesitate for a beat, “No.”

Evan laughs, “Wow, I’m so convinced!”

“No, come on,” I rock to the side and nudge his shoulder with mine, “Like, yeah, sometimes it’s nice to have Jen here, but I’m fine, I can handle myself around the emos… and as for Michelle, well, she hates me, so it’s actually kinda comfier when she’s not here, and- oh,” I realise immediately what I’ve said, “um, well I don’t really mean that, it-”

“No, it’s okay,” Evan says, “I know that you two aren’t exactly best friends or anything.”

“Ah, so she’s talked to you about me.” 

“Nah, you’ve honestly never come up in conversation.”

“Somehow that’s worse.”

He snickers. 

“How are, um,” I pick at the beer label with my thumb, “How are things going with you guys? Like, the last time we talked you were feeling kinda…”

A sigh, “Oh, yeah, it’s the same. Like, she’s so nice but sometimes I don’t feel like I get enough from her.”

“Uh huh.”

“I kind of get a bit annoyed about it sometimes, like, how are we supposed to be together properly if I hardly see her? Like, man, she’s allowed to come to my house like, once a week. In the afternoon. And that’s the only time we can… uh, hook up or whatever. It’s so annoying.”

“Just from an outsider's perspective, you know, you seem pretty happy.”

“Yeah. She’s definitely into me,” He musses up and fixes his fringe, “I dunno. It’s fine, just sometimes I wonder about shit. You know what I mean, right?”

“I’m probably not the best person to ask, seeing none of my relationships have worked out so far, and I’m also fairly drunk, so…”

“But you know what it’s like to be with someone who wouldn’t give you the things you needed, right?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“So you do get it.”

“Mm, I suppose,” as our conversation tapers off I let my mind drift into thoughts about love and loneliness and the hollow disappointment of all of my relationships. These are bitter, useless, self destructive thoughts as usual, made even worse by the fact that I’m not exactly capable of rational thought while inebriated. Is drinking bad for me? Am I a miserable drunk? I have to physically shake myself out of my own head before I start talking myself into a hole again.

I turn to Evan to start saying something else about, I don’t know, whether he’s ever tried pranking someone by turning their school bag inside out and putting the books back into it or something stupid like that, but I see he’s distracted by something else across the bonfire. 

It’s that girl with the pink hair. She’s leaning over a bag to rummage for more beer, and her short skirt rides up when she’s bent over like that so that her underwear is visible through the sheer material of her tights. I frown at the dirty little smirk on his face, the way hungry eyes follow her movements, and the look between them as she glances over her shoulder and sees him watching her. I nudge my knee against his to interrupt whatever is going on.

“Wow, nice legs, huh?” 

He looks at me, surprised, but lets out a rough laugh, “Yeah, for sure.”

“Is she into you or am I just seeing things?”

“Nah, I don’t know about that.”

“Oh, c’mon, no, I’m just messing with you, she just looked like… I dunno.”

“Like what?”

I shift awkwardly, “You know what, don’t mind me, I’ve had too much to drink, I thought I detected flirting, or whatever, I guess I was wrong.”

The girl kneels onto the ground and starts asking around for the bottle opener, and Evan doesn’t take his eyes away from her. “She’s pretty though, isn’t she?”

“Hm?”

“Carlie. That’s her name. She’s pretty, do you think?”

“She’s single?”

“Yep.”

“So are you trying to set me up with her or are you just pointing that out?”

“I’m not trying to set you up.” Evan seems agitated by this idea that I might try to date pretty Carlie, who, by the way, treats me like I am contagious. As though it’s any of his business what she does, as if he should even care. Something sour settles in my gut, but I can’t tell whether it’s that I'm weirded out by this conversation or if the alcohol is nauseating me. 

“Right, well, she’s not my type,” I watch his face carefully, “Is she yours?”

“She’s pretty hot.”

Maybe he's looking for my approval or my agreement, which I don’t give him on purpose. To see where it leads me I respond with a benign, “Oh, you think?”

“Uh huh,” They catch eyes again and she smiles coyly and quickly looks away to resume her conversation. That’s flirtation. She’s flirting with him, and him back, right in front of my face. 

“You know, a lot of people would consider your girlfriend to be pretty hot too.” It’s true, I’ve heard those rugby boys saying it before, the only time they ever had anything remotely complimentary to say about any of the emos was to point out the things they fancied about Michelle and what they might like to do to her if she A. wasn’t emo, or B. nobody knew, so that they wouldn’t have to suffer the social consequences. I feel disgusted again at this memory. I know where I was, sitting on the bench lacing up my boots and saying nothing while they spoke casual filth about a girl I know. 

It’s a similar feeling to the one I have now at this bonfire with Evan, and maybe this is how he is when he’s drunk, maybe he just gets a bit… leery, but when he stares across the fire at someone who isn’t his girlfriend I swear I am looking at Willy FitzHerbert. 

He waves my comment away, “Yeah but at least Carlie is interested in sex.”

“How do you know that?”

He leans closer, “Obviously because I’ve done it with her.”

“Yeah?” I say, “When?”

He smirks and says nothing.

I push him again. “A few years ago?”

He lowers his voice and looks at me with eyes that glitter with salacious excitement. I don’t think I’ve ever once seen another boy look so pleased with himself as he says: “Try a month ago.”

It takes all my self control not to react. I just pause for a second as a shock of revulsion rips through my body, I feel it from my feet to the top of my head, and then, when I decide to speak, my voice is strange to my own ears, “While you were with Michelle.”

A shrug, “It just happened on a night out when she wasn’t there. I dunno.”

“She doesn’t know?”

“Course not. She’d break up with me.”

“And... you don’t want that.”

“No, because we’re in love. This stuff with Carlie, it was just… you get what I mean. It’s not like that with her.”

I sigh, “Uh, yep.”

So it appears it is the same for Evan as it is for all the others. Michelle is the virgin, Carlie is the slut and he wants it all at the same time. A girl worthy of love, and a girl interested in sex, two things that cannot converge. There is no girl that can be both.

“It felt good to let loose with someone who knew what they were doing, and like, not have to think so hard about making the other person all safe and comfortable and, blah,” he rolls his eyes, “Carlie is cool.”

“Right, yeah, she seems it.”

“You get me, right? Guys like us, you know, we need to be able to just relax sometimes, not think so hard…”

“Yeah, for sure… Guys like us, huh?”

“Hell yeah!” He clinks his beer bottle against mine, “I knew you’d get it, honestly, I wasn’t sure if I should say something but I feel good now that you understand what I meant.”

I try to laugh but it sounds weird and strangled, so I bring the bottle to my lips in the hope that drinking will disguise my discomfort, or at the very least numb it a bit. I finish the last two thirds of it and toss it somewhere amongst the miscellaneous rubbish, remnants of a hundred other miserable bonfire nights on Dollymount strand.  

Then, after a minute or two Evan nudges me again. It’s hard to look at him but I force myself to because it is what I would do if this situation was normal, “You’re not going to say anything, right? Like, to Michelle or Jen? Like I know you probably won’t...” A laugh as he adjusts his fringe, “That'd be insane, I know, but I wanted to make sure.”

“Me? Nah,” I say, “Why would you even have to ask? Don’t worry about it,” I scratch the back of my head, “your, uh, your secret is safe with me.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[foxgirlintestines]

The one piece of advice I can really give to younger trans girls is that you really need to embrace the parts about you that you actually liked pre-transition. There is often that crushing weight of gloom and self loathing that comes with severe dysphoria that tells you that everything about you is wrong, but that can just your mind being clouded with negative emotions, and it becomes harder to see the positives. In the end, though, you probably aren't going to become a perfect barbie doll, and that's ok, but striving to become something like that can drive you crazy.

When I first transitioned, I just wanted to be a girl, no ambiguity, just look like a stereotype. It was never really possible, I'm almost 6 and a half feet tall, and the women in my family are not thin, when I got on estrogen I gained weight fast, and it did not go to all the right places. I wallowed in bed a lot, and I just kind of kept getting worse. Oddly enough, it was getting into fetish content where less standard body types were lusted after more than regular anime proportion waifus where I started to see some of the more positive aspects of being amab. I was tall, strong, could be threatening and having a big squishy gut was actually quite attractive. I started to remember things about me when I was younger that I kind of pushed out of my mind. I was the "guy" who would run the mile in PE then casually walk along-side my friends and keep them company so that they didn't get teased, and one time I picked up my overweight friend and just carried her the last bit of the way because she was exhausted and the teacher couldn't really do anything about it because even as a young teenager I towered over him. In theater when there were heavy props to move I just lifted them up and tossed them around when we didn't have grip present. When we were out drinking in college, I was the "safety" who intimidated people so they would not try and take advantage of the drunk girls. I am big, and even if is not very feminine, I like that about me.

I changed my transition goals, I started working out again, not just cardio exercises to lose weight, but weightlifting, squats while holing a barbell, throwing around a medicine ball, and doing laps around my backyard while holding a ~150lb dead tree I ripped out of the ground while doing yardwork on my shoulder. I got healthier, I got happier, and much to my new endocrinologist's chagrin I've been gaining more weight, though now it's muscle. There are still plenty of things that I changed to be feminine, I wear my hair long, I wear girly clothes, often cute shirts with open tops that show off my large arms shoulders and cleavage, and mini-skirts. I put on make-up, lots of bold goth get-ups with heavy eyeliner black lipstick and glittery deep grey eyeshadow. Long painted nails, jewelry, hell sometimes a sparkly rhinestone tiara when I really want to ham it up, cute open toe heels when not wearing my big stompy boots, and of course the biggest one (pun intended) my massive boobs that I got the largest implants legal to be used in the US to make me busty as hell. I don't look like a barbie, and I no longer want to. I'm to the point that people often don't know whether to call me sir or ma'am, but the fact that people say sir or ma'am meekly like they are afraid of getting it wrong is way better gender confirmation than being called "lady."

I am happy now, well, at least happy with my body, there is plenty of shit in the world that still makes me depressed as hell. At least I no longer feel that dysphoria, and it makes those other things a bit more manageable. I think even if I did achieve my original transition goals, I would not be as happy with my body as I am now. You got to find that about yourself too, sometimes you will actually miss things about who you used to be, even if those times were overall worse.

As a silly little comparison, these two pictures of my fursona (which reflect my ideal body type) were made before and after I accepted the things about my body that I didn't want to change.