#and almost all the comments were telling the person that they should clearly be eating less since they weren't thin

[mel-tokio]

they should invent a device that instantly subtracts a decade from a person's life every time they make a rude comment about another person's body and/or promote diet culture. and it should hurt more than childbirth.

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Two

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Two: Ghosts and Guardians

Summary: Saiki and (Y/N) meet a new transfer student.

            It was another day at school. (Y/N) and Saiki were sitting next to each other, watching as boys crowded around Teruhashi as usual. Apparently, she had met a boy on August sixth and developed a crush on him. Poor Saiki looked annoyed (more than usual, at least), and (Y/N) was amused since apparently his chance encounter with Teruhashi had garnered a lot of attention.

            That being said, (Y/N)’s stomach clenched strangely at the knowledge that the “perfect pretty girl” liked Saiki. They chose to classify that under “weird” because “my best friend who hates people dating would be weird.” At least Saiki seemed irritated at the attention.

            Other than Teruhashi’s crush, everything was normal at PK Academy (which wasn’t saying much. Nothing could be considered anywhere near normal there). At least, almost completely normal (by their standards).

            “Hey, Saiki, (Y/N), don’t you think Nendou is acting strange today?” asked Kaidou. “Normally, he’d be bugging us to go to a ramen place or something.”

            “True, he is acting a little strange.”

            “He looks sad,” said (Y/N) decidedly.

            “This is fishy. It does make me wonder what the deal is,” said Kaidou, “We should find out what.”

l

            How do I always get dragged into these things?

            Saiki was once again questioning his life choices. He was hiding around the corner from Nendou with Kaidou and (Y/N). They were tailing their friend who was acting odd. All-in-all, it was the usual concoction of terrible life choices leading him to be stuck with “friends.” At least (Y/N) and Saiki were acting relatively normal. Kaidou….was Kaidou. He had put on a coat, hat, and sunglasses to complete the spy look.

            “His house isn’t this way,” said Kaidou, “I bet something’s up.”

            “Why are you so excited about this? And why are you so used to tailing someone?” commented Saiki.

            “It’s a little creepy,…but hey, we’re not gonna hurt him!” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “Hm?” Kaidou noticed Nendou stop. “What’s he looking at?”

            Nendou gave a young girl a strange look.

            Creepy.

            Creepy.

            Creepy.

            All of them had the same thought.

            “Look, he entered a shop this time!” said (Y/N), pointing down the street.

            “Don’t start getting into this, too.” The last thing Saiki needed was (Y/N) going crazy.

            “I might as well have fun,” they remarked.

            “A flower shop? Don’t tell me he has a girlfriend…!” exclaimed Kaidou.

            “No offense to Nendou, but that’s probably not the reason,” said (Y/N), sweat-dropping.

            Nendou emerged with a bouquet of sunflowers.

            “No, that’s definitely not it.”

            “It’s too early to judge. There are many reasons to buy sunflowers,” said Kaidou.

            “He’s entering another shop!” alerted (Y/N).

            “A cake shop? Well, he definitely wouldn’t eat something like that, right?!” cried Kaidou. “Sunflowers, too. He clearly intends to give them to someone. But he doesn’t have a girlfriend to give them to!”

            “Let’s just ask him. This might end up being a little personal. He may prefer to tell us instead of us accidentally finding out,” said (Y/N).

            Saiki glanced at them from behind his glasses. Once again, (Y/N)’s apropos statement made his question whether or not they were a regular person or secretly a psychic. Maye they were just someone with common sense.

            He could directly relate to what they had just said. Saiki had a personal issue: being a psychic, and he didn’t want people to find out if he didn’t want them to (which was all the time).

            Strange…how do they manage to say just the right thing?

            (Y/N) ran up to Nendou. “Hey, Nendou!”

            “Oh, hey, pinky! Wow! Runt and pal are here, too.”

            “Yeah, we’re curious about what you’re up to,” explained (Y/N).

            Only mildly curious. It wouldn’t weigh on my mind.

            “Oh, that’s easy,” said Nendou.

l

            “Visiting a grave?” Kaidou was surprised. The group was now in a graveyard looking at the Nendou Family Grave.

            (Y/N) nodded in understanding. They had guessed that since Nendou definitely probably didn’t have a girlfriend, the flowers were likely for a relative. (Or that’s what they told themself. They actually didn’t really manage to guess anything).

            “Yeah, my dad’s,” explained Nendou, “Today is the anniversary of his death.”

            Kaidou made the connection. “Then the sunflowers and cake are…”

            “They’re offerings, of course.” Nendou smiled. “It’s common sense to bring flowers and snacks when visiting a grave.”

            “Of course,” agreed (Y/N). It was sweet. For all Nendou’s…stupidity, he had a good heart.

            “When did your dad die?” asked Kaidou.

            “Kaidou! That’s a really personal question,” admonished (Y/N), frowning.

            “Don’t worry, girlie. It’s okay. He died before I was born,” said Nendou, “He died trying to save a kid who ran out into the street.”

            “A hero,” said (Y/N) in awe. That explains where Nendou gets his helpful, sometimes impulsive, attitude.

            “B-but if he died before you were born, then he must’ve died really young,” said Kaidou.

            “Yeah. I think eighteen or nineteen. Do you wanna see his picture? I have it in my wallet.” Nendou looked excited.

            “Sure!” said (Y/N), grinning.

            Nendou showed off the picture. The pair were identical. It was kind of creepy.

            “What?! This is your picture, isn’t it?” cried Kaidou in disbelief.

            “I know, he looks like me, right?” Nendou smiled happily. “Mom says that I look more like him every year, too.”

            “It’s beyond that! You’re practically twins!” (Y/N) was surprised they were so similar.

            After looking over the picture, the group stood up and turned from the grave, readying to leave. Saiki, however, was staring slightly above the grave with a strange, slightly creeped out, look on his face.

            “Saiki?” called (Y/N), “Are you alright?”

            That vision of Nendou’s father was probably just my imagination. Saiki turned around with his usual blank face. “I’m fine.”

            “Great! Let’s go get some ramen!” said Nendou.

            As they began to walk, (Y/N) grinned at Saiki. “I’ve never seen you look like that before. It was almost like you saw a ghost.”

            “I don’t believe in ghosts,” said Saiki. No matter how unreal I am. Unfortunately, the world had a way of going against his desires. (He was not a favorite of any gods that existed).

l

            (Y/N) walked through the halls, heading to the library to check out some books. They stopped, however, when they spotted Saiki and the transfer student. They instantly became curious since rumors were circulating that he was a medium. Did they believe in psychics or anything? They weren’t sure. They hadn’t really seen any proof for or against the existence of psychics, so (Y/N) kept an open mind. And there was no harm in checking it out.

            “I don’t understand why you would want to hide it…” complained the purple-haired boy.

            “Hide what?” asked (Y/N), nearing the two.

            The transfer student jumped. “Oh-uh! S-Saiki and I are friends!”

            “We’re not,” denied Saiki.

            “Don’t think anything of it,” said (Y/N) to the purple-haired boy. They smiled and laughed. “Saiki never admits people are his friends.”

            “He’s really not,” emphasized Saiki. He really didn’t want (Y/N) to get the wrong idea.

            “Hush.” (Y/N) smiled to the transfer student. “I’m (Y/N) (L/N).”

            “I’m Toritsuka Reita.” Toritsuka smiled “innocently,” but his inner thoughts were very different. Wow, they’re totally hot! “And I’m a medium who can tell you all about your Guardian Spirit!” People love this stuff!

            Saiki leveled a deadly glare at Toritsuka. He sent a message directly to the pervert’s mind, making sure (Y/N) wouldn’t hear. “Stop.” He might not acknowledge (Y/N) was his friend, but he wouldn’t let Toritsuka try anything pervy with them. He didn’t like that idea. And (Y/N) didn’t deserve that.

            Not that that was the issue. It was just Toritsuka being weird that Saiki wasn’t a fan of. Not (Y/N) being bothered in particular.

            “I guess I am a bit curious,” admitted (Y/N), shrugging casually.

            “Hmm, it seems—Oh, whoa!” Toritsuka’s eyes widened.

            “What?” (Y/N) tilted their head.

            Curious himself, Saiki surreptitiously tapped Toritsuka while using his psychometry. Now, he could see the ghosts the medium did. Sure enough, (Y/N)’s Guardian Spirit garnered the reaction Toritsuka had.

            “They’re a sorcerer or a witch!” said Toritsuka. That's intimidating! Immediately, he took a step back. He wouldn’t try to mess with (Y/N) if that was their guardian spirit. Well, at least for a little.

            That explains why (Y/N) always gets out of messes. Saiki found it interesting that (Y/N) was friends with a psychic and had a witch as a Guardian Spirit. Maybe there was a correlation. If that was so, then there was a correlation between god hating him and his own psychic powers.

            “If what you say is true, then that’s pretty cool.” (Y/N) smiled at the idea of having someone looking out for them. “What’s Saiki’s guardian?”

            “I don’t care about it.”

            They shrugged. “Alright, if you say so.” They were pretty curious, but they wouldn’t push.

            Saiki was tempted to smile for a moment but held back. He liked that they respected him enough not to pry. Most of his friends people who bothered him would push for information, but (Y/N) understood that Saiki preferred to keep to himself. They even helped out people like Toritsuka who were especially bothersome (and definitely didn’t deserve their kindness). As usual, the universe decided to mess with Saiki right as he was feeling pleased since just at that moment Teruhashi walked by. Luckily for Saiki (he didn’t get to say that often) she was only passing by.

            However, it was enough for Toritsuka to fall in love (not that it was unusual for people to fall head-over-heels for Teruhashi at first sight). The blush on his face was evident to any passerby. “Wh-wh-wh-who’s that super pretty girl?!”

            “That’s Teruhashi. She just passed by you for no reason whatsoever. You should thank her.” For the first time, Saiki was glad the school’s idol appeared since it meant Toritsuka would stop flirting (and thinking) so much about (Y/N), especially in such perverse ways.

            That was a new thought.

            Did you see all the nooks and crannies on her body, Saiki?! thought Toritsuka.

            Suddenly, Saiki was glad that Toritsuka said stupid things so he could focus on that instead of whatever those thoughts were. “Don’t make it sound so perverted,” said Saiki.

            “Watch out, here comes a swarm of girls,” warned (Y/N).

            The crowd of girls mobbed Toritsuka with questions about their Guardian Spirit.

            (Y/N) chuckled. “He seems quite content with the attention.” They weren’t an idiot; they saw how Toritsuka looked at them and girls. They were polite, but they were careful.

            “Too much for my taste,” muttered Saiki.

            “He’s very…honest with the boys.” (Y/N) sweat-dropped as Toritsuka bluntly told the boys that their Guardian Spirits were “old hags” and an “old geezer.”

            “He’s very obvious,” said Saiki.

            “At least he seems to be honest,” remarked (Y/N), “since he was impressed by Hairo’s.”

            “You believe in psychics? And mediums and all that?” asked the pink-haired boy, glancing at them.

            (Y/N) shrugged. “I mean sure, why not.” They smiled. “Life is more fun with the fantastical involved, ya know.”

            I find it boring and annoying to have this much power. But I can understand their view. Saiki nodded.

            “Hey, what’s my Guardian Spirit?” Nendou appeared out of nowhere.

            “Now that’s something we can both say is interesting,” commented (Y/N).

            “Yes,” agreed Saiki.

            Toritsuka just ignored him.

            (Y/N) sighed. “Man, I really wanted to find out. If Toritsuka tells you, let me know. I’ll buy you coffee jelly in return.”

            Saiki would tell them if he found out anyways. When Toritsuka didn’t tell him later, the only reason Saiki wasn’t disappointed over losing coffee jelly was that he was too surprised to see Nendou’s father was Toritsuka’s Guardian Spirit. During the night, however, Saiki lamented the loss of coffee jelly.

            I’ll just have to go to Café Mami tomorrow and maybe encounter (Y/N).

l

            It seemed the following day, (Y/N) had the same idea. I wonder if Saiki would like some coffee jelly. What am I thinking? He’s always up for coffee jelly. (Y/N) smiled and went down to Saiki’s house. They rang the doorbell.

            Saiki opened it.

            “Hey, Saiki, I was wondering if you wanted to go to Café Mami with me,” said (Y/N).

            “I have a problem right now.”

            “It must be serious if it keeps you from coffee jelly. What is it?” asked (Y/N).

            “…” Saiki didn’t want to respond since he was slightly embarrassed about his extreme fear of insects.

            “Come on, I won’t tease you,” reassured (Y/N).

            “There’s a roach.”

            “Gross.” (Y/N) shivered at the thought before taking a deep breath and smiling bravely. “I’ll get it. You just hold open the door so I can make a run for it.”

            Saiki nodded and held the door, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the bug.

            (Y/N) tiptoed into corridor and looked around. Sure enough, there was a roach on the floor. (Y/N) took out their handkerchief and crept closer to the insect. Pouncing, they grabbed it quickly and rushed to the door. “Gross, gross, gross!” They tossed it outside, and then Saiki slammed the door.

            They both breathed a sigh of relief.

            “How about we wait a minute for it to leave the front walk and then go to Café Mami?” murmured (Y/N), their back against the door.

            “Are you an angel?” They perfectly anticipate what I’m thinking and make me feel comfortable. It was a strange thought but a true one. It seemed Saiki couldn’t avoid really being friends with (Y/N) and thinking of them as one.

            (Y/N)’s cheeks turned pink. They hadn’t anticipated that or their own reaction, and they stammered out a “Huh?”

            “Nothing.” Saiki avoided speaking again until they arrived at Café Mami.

Taglist:

@elaemae

@painstakingly-juno

@characterreaderwriter

@melovepurple

@sleep-7372

@w0mank1sser

@geminigengar

@noodleryworld

@leonardo-dabitchy

@janezee12751275

@xenop0p

@ex160-blog1

@futureittomainn

@boogiemansbitch

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day twenty-two: cunnilingus

>>> idk why i’m only here for yandere rough megumi sjdkfkffkg i mean he isn’t all the way yandere but it’s strongly implied, y’all enjoy!

>>> starring: megumi fushiguro x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: yandere-ish behavior, cunnilingus (f receiving) clearly, doggy, overstimulation, prone bone kinda, creampie, jealous megumi. >>> wc: 2.5k >>> event masterlist.

it really was his favorite place to be. being between your legs, face buried in your warm, wet and sweet-tasting cunt was so soothing and fulfilling to him he simply could not get enough. he wondered if he had an oral fixation specifically because of your pussy, almost concerned with how much he loves being on his knees wherever whenever just to get a taste of you. at the beginning of your relationship, megumi was a bit…nervous around you. it wasn’t like his mind wasn’t coursing with lewd thoughts about his pretty little curvy angelic goddess of a girlfriend, he just didn’t know how to tell you he craved your cunt on his face like normal men crave water. so yes, he had to come out of his sexual shell so to speak. but it seems this god forsaken get together at gojo’s was going to ease him out of it—and your cunt wouldn’t be his sweet release, it would be his sloppy playtoy by the end of the night.

not to say that megumi wasn’t pleasing you enough already, though, of course. he may be a bit routine about things, but he always took care of you. did you want him to be a little rougher from time to time? sure, but you’ve never been with someone so eager and passionate about eating you out either. that alone was worth his perhaps lack in kinkiness.

though your boyfriend has a bunch of his own ideas including a host of naughty things he wants to do to you as well as the ones spurring from his crippling jealousy. he’s not even quite sure where it comes from, gojo gave him everything he needed out of life and he never felt jealous of other kids growing up despite his unconventional upbringing. but when it came to you, he felt something sinister tug at him. maybe it was because you are so otherworldly beautiful that he can’t help but be on standby, waiting for someone to make a shitty comment about your body or stealing you away. maybe it’s because he knows he’s not doing enough to earn the pleasure of calling you his. but no one else could do any better than him, he knows that for sure.

so why is yuuta trying? he knows full well who you belong to—gojo’s famed favorite former pupil has you pulled aside, which doesn’t go unnoticed by your protective and sensitive boyfriend. it’s been years since you all had gojo-sensei’s class, but megumi still hated that yuuta okkotsu. his dad favored him as his successor over him, and even yuji took to him pretty quickly. those were reasons enough to hold a forever grudge, but watching the older man hold all your attention was driving him to murderous thoughts. having all the former sorcerers in one spot wasn’t a good idea—especially not when megumi had acquired an absolute babe in the time apart from his now young adult friends.

especially not when yuuta had you leaned against the wall, nervously chuckling to whatever he was saying, eyes darting around to look for your boyfriend. megumi was frozen in place, trying to settle the argument between the devil and angel on each shoulder. he could just approach yuuta and explain reasonably that you’re spoken for, and that he should keep it moving. but on the other hand, he thinks he should punch yuuta in the face because everyone knows you’re spoken for and that he’s your man. then he should drag you upstairs and fuck you sore and screaming until every person in attendance was uncomfortable. he can see you get increasingly anxious, so he makes the decision.

“c’mon okkotsu. you know that’s my girl.” you hear the ice drip from his tone. he’s not playing any games, and that’s clear by his unamused scowl and the way he folds his arms over his chest. you’re relieved to see him, smiling softly at the man you’ve always known to be your stoic and calm boyfriend. but the look in his eyes as he slides them over to look at you sends a shiver down your spine. yuuta chuckles nervously, blaming the alcohol and your cute dress for his lack of sense.

megumi growls at that, rearing his hand back to start a real problem. this was practically his house, he didn’t care about any potential repercussions—but your voice comes over him to invoke reason.

“hey hey, point made. he’s gone.” you know it’s true based off the shuffling of yuji and toge getting off the couch to ensure that yuuta and megumi are separated before it can come to blows. you lean into his chest, but his gaze only follows the group of boys as they shift upstairs.

his arms fall around your waist, and he wonders if he actually even heard what you said or if your voice alone was enough to make him hesitate. the rest of the party guests still watch the scene—wondering if it gets better or worse from here. some of them had experienced megumi’s temper before, some knew it was a horrific mix of nurture and nature, both his father and the man who raised him horrifically jealous beasts of nature. and the apple doesn’t fall far.

“go upstairs. find a room.” he snarls, daring anyone in attendance to speak up against him. your cheeks flush at his command. he’s only ever spoken to you with a gentle tone, with patience and understanding and all the warmth a man like himself can convey. but you’ve yearned for this other side—this gruffness in his voice and the unwavering dominance in his eyes. he doesn’t care that everyone’s watching—in fact, he wants them to. you nod eagerly, turning tail to find an unoccupied spare room in gojo’s giant house.

he only loiters behind long enough to let everyone watch you obey him—the prettiest woman in the universe, who could easily have anyone she ever wanted, caters to his every whim and order. he lags behind you just a bit, but you can feel his presence. it’s dark. he’s always been a distant, more guarded man. because of that, he’s always been regarded as cold. but his light never felt daunting until now. he never felt oppressive or controlling or possessive; you don’t have to look over your shoulder to know he’s close. it makes heat lick up your stomach walls and bubble down your legs as you wobble towards a room at the end of the hall that was sure to be vacant. you knock to be sure anyway, but megumi reaches around your waist to open the door anyway. his other hand grips your hip, pushing your forward with the pressure of his pelvis against your ass.

you gasp and stumble into the darkness, giggling a little in excitement as you find the bed. megumi’s fingers find the light switch, and you turn to look at his anger riddled features, something only jealousy could produce.

“yuuta okkotsu, huh?” he asks, pulling his shirt over his head. it messes up the spiky tendrils of his hair, but you don’t notice over the crazed look in his eyes. he’s pale and lean, dips along his slender abdomen indicating the strength hiding beneath. he fiddles with his belt next. “you have a voice. why didn’t you tell him to back off?”

you flush with embarrassment, anxiety rippling at your core to mix with the burning excitement. “i—i was try—“

“i—i” megumi mocked, licking his teeth. he walked closer to you, taking over that tiny little sundress you wore that was no doubt the only layer keeping him or anyone else away from your drooling cunt. it aggravates him. you look this beautiful out in public all the time—and it really didn’t matter if you were in this slutty dress or a goddamn burlap sack, anyone with eyes in their head could tell that you were an angel among mortal men. “you’re too nice for your own good. you almost got his ass kicked because you don’t know how to speak up for yourself.”

you bite your lip, nodding along to his scolding. you know you should apologize to him, but you can’t deny how much it turns you on to see him so angry. especially when he approaches you, pushing your sitting form in to a laying one so he could yank you by the hips to the bottom of the bed. he flips your sundress up, snarling again when he finds you bare—and soaking fucking wet.

“oh i see. you’re cute enough to parade around like this but can’t tell other boys you have a man?” he spits on your pussy, sliding it around your hood and lips with his middle and ring fingers. “i’ll help you find your voice.”

he shoves your thighs apart and keeps them like that, rolling his eyes as you squirm and writhe. it’s only in excitement, though. your hands find his hair to prove it as he dives toward your cunt, lapping at you eagerly. he can’t help but moan at your taste—no matter how many tried only he got to experience this moment, the way you look with his mouth suckling on your clit; brows draw up in ecstasy, lip already swollen and puffy from your teeth repeatedly gnawing into it. he couldn’t help but be obsessed with you, anyone would be—it was clear that pretty much everyone was.

but you remind him of your love when you clutch your thighs around his face, tugging his hair so hard he has no choice but to bury his face deeper, sucking and biting on your clit so roughly you whimper—big hands that always stay cool to the touch paw at the meat of your thighs to let you know just how much he enjoys being one that pleasures you. he needs to hear you scream his name—needs you to let everyone know who it is that’s got you seeing stars and arching off the mattress.

“meg—gonna cum, oh sh—“ your stomach burns, and you lurch and crumple to try to relieve it, but megumi holds you down. he grunts to egg you on, demanding your orgasm to come quicker as he nibbles on the very source of your pleasure, sending colorful orbs flashing across your vision as you wail his name. you’re getting there, but he knows you can get louder.

“don’t hold back now, do better.” he seems agitated as he hooks his arms around your thighs—pulling your cunt to his face without any means of escape. he slides his tongue back in your hole, intense jaded emerald eyes watching your contorted face of deliriousness. you were brainless already, chants of ‘megumi—megumi—megu—meg-megumi!’ roll past your lips as he slides his tongue along your entire slit, nose bumping against your swollen and oversensitive clit so hard he almost feels bad for all his old classmates and friends listening to your guttural cries. almost.

you’re weightless, suspended in space—floating in a river of unending bliss. it’s too much. you’re finally getting what you’ve always asked for and you can’t handle it—and his pants are still on. the only things tying you to the planet are: the feeling of his soft hair clenched tight in between your fingers, the tears stinging at the corners of your eyes from the sheer pressure of his mouth milking your pussy, and his delicious grunts of demand. you can’t deny him, and your hips clearly beg for more as they hump his face to push you towards your second edge in just a few minutes.

he hopes yuuta and all those other motherfuckers that have ever thought about toeing the line get the fucking message—you’re certainly being loud and clear. your vision darkens completely, mouth dropped in a permanent yell of his name. it’s perfect, and megumi lacks the patience to be gentle, for once. he shoves you back, lips glistening with your slick, cheeks red from his hard work and eyes flickering with a cold flame so hot your whole body burns for him.

he shrugs, shoving his pants down and tugging at the hand of his solid black briefs next. “face down, ass up.” you bite your lip in anticipation, rolling to your stomach in the pretty arch he requested. he nods at your obedience, getting up on the bed with you. his cool touch finds your hips at the same time his fat cockhead finds your entrance—and he’s pulling you down on him mercilessly. “don’t you dare quiet yourself. i want them to hear everything.”

his growl affects you almoat as much as his rough strokes, curved pale length stabbing through to your cervix without any breaks in between. megumi cursed under his breath, pulling your arms behind your back to ensure that you struggled to obey him. it was cute watching you turn your face in the covers so he—and everyone else—could hear your animalistic cries. he pins your wrists in one massive trap of his own hand, his other still leveraging a hold on your hip to keep you from escaping his brutal ruts.

it’s no wonder he’s a jealous fucking freak over you at all. your pussy was magical, soaking wet and beaten into the shape of him and him alone—you gripped him like his own personal mold. he couldn’t stomach anyone even thinking about having you in the way he has you right now. it messes with him that he can’t stop that—but maybe your gorgeous curses of his name will be enough to ward off such worries for a while. he fills you so perfectly you could never think about another man anyway—even if he was only soft and gentle and tender with you, a far cry from what he is right now, you’d never stray. but especially with this performance, with your brain jolting around in your head and nothing but fire and ice flooding your senses—you can only scream out your love for him just like he wants.

“that’s what i’m talking about. scream and cum, babe.” he encouraged, letting your hands go so he could yank on your hair. he tugs hard, and it sends electricity shooting down your spine. his voice is so raspy and needy as his cock twitches inside your walls—as unforgiving and tight as they were since you were fluttering close to your release. “i said cum.”

you gasp out, feeling him pinch your clit again, the final push you needed as you reach out for the headboard. he keeps you from crawling away by knocking you flat to the bed, hand sprawled across your back to make you take it. you’re a goner, only able to feel the ridges of his cock abusing your worn hole—scraping against the entrance to your womb from this angle. his speed dies down and warmth floods your cunt, making a dumb little smile spread across your face. he rolls his hips into your ass slower, riding out your high. he’s panting, running a hand through his sweaty hair before he leans over to kiss you. he’s still needy, eagerly finding your mouth and kissing you with a beautiful mix of passion and aggression.

it sinks in then just how rough he’s been with you, and his eyes flash with regret. his lips move to form an apology—but a knock on the door cuts him off.

“hey junior—you done? everyone’s traumatized. great work.” gojo snickers—clearly proud of his boy.

[wingedjellyfishflight]

A Forgotten Birthday

"How old is y/n then?" The new recruit is always trying to flirt with Soap by asking him gossip and facts about the team.

"Twenty-six." He answers her so easily. It feels like a stab to your heart all over again.

"Twenty-seven." You correct, voice conspicuously devoid of emotion.

"No, your birthday isn't until May, and it's..." His face pales. He whips around to look at you. "We missed it. How did we miss it?" You shrug, not meeting his eyes.

"Some things just aren't important." Your food tastes like sawdust. You give up trying to eat and toss it in the trash on the way out. Maybe hitting the gym will help. No, you know he's going to tell everyone, and you don't want to deal with their pity-filled stares and questions about making it up to you now that they've finally remembered.

Running the trail system near the base is a favorite of yours normally. Today, it isn't relaxing, but anger-inducing. You were on a mission in a forest just like this across the world for your birthday. It was almost two weeks after the day that you got back, and you eagerly waited for the surprise party that Soap, Gaz, and Price always set up for each person's birthday, but... nothing. After three weeks, you gave up all hope for one and steeled yourself to give nothing away. Can't let them see you hurt over a stupid birthday. Can't make the team lose focus or lose your own. You're an adult, after all.

Zoned out, you don't realize how far you have run until it's nearly too dark to see the path. Sitting on a stump, you give in and have a cry about the whole thing. Self-pity taking you over for just a few minutes. Wiping your eyes, you startle when a hand touches your back. You leap up and move to a defensive crouch only to see Ghost's balaclava looming out of the darkness at you.

"Luv, what's wrong?"

"N-nothing. Just, I don't know. Needed a cry, I guess. Didn't think anyone would see me."

"You certainly didn't see anyone. I've been running behind you for nearly five minutes. I could have been anyone. You need to be more aware of things." Your hurt and confusion turns to anger at the lecture he is spouting off.

"Ya, I guess I do need to be more aware. Clearly, I am the problem." You stomp away from him, starting back to base, muttering to yourself about transfers to other teams who might care more. Ghost wraps his hand around your arm and pulls you to a stop.

"What, I make one comment, and you're just going to quit on us? What is actually going on, pet? Someone piss you off or something? Do I need to knock teeth out?"

"I... everyone forgot," you mumble. Ghost glances around to ensure you're alone and tugs you against his chest, rubbing your back. "I was in the shit and when I got back, nobody remembered my birthday." He freezes, hands cradling you.

"They forgot? How could they forget? Your birthday is always at the beginning of the mission season. I thought you guys had it when I was down range. I was gutted to have missed it. Sent you flowers as a sorry." His grip tightens to an almost painful level, and you grip back, remembering the beautiful bouquet that had been left for you without a note. "We will just have to make Soap and Captain pay for forgetting then." You glance up and see his eyes glimmering at you in the moonlight.

"We should probably find our way home first."

"Home, that sounds good." His phone suddenly goes off, making you jump. "Group text. 'SOS emergency meeting. Do not tell y/n.' They ain't even tryin' to be subtle at this point." He guides the two of you down the path, walking quick and assured. Within minutes, he is getting an avalanche of phone calls and texts to the point that he is tempted to throw it into the woods around you, but you turn it off and slip it into his pocket for him.

"Last time you threw one and broke it, Captain said he would glue the new one to your hand, and I'm pretty sure he was serious." Ghost ruffles your hair.

"That was a private meeting, Luv. How did you hear him say that?"

You scoff. "You'd be lucky if the entire fuckin' base didn't hear him tell you that with how loud he was shouting." He just chuckles and guides you both home. He drops you off at the women's barracks and storms into the team meeting, slamming the door into the wall.

"Finally you show up! We forgot y/n's birthday and we are planning a party to make up for it."

"No. You are not."

"What?! We can't just ignore it. We forgot! It's been months!"

"You're not going to force her to accept a pity party to make you feel better about what you did."

"Ghost, I know you hate parties, but she still deserves to know we care."

"So, show her. Before she makes good on transferring out. But no party. I will handle her party from now on since you fucks can't be trusted to remember." He walks out without another word, the room behind him in chaos.

"Why is he acting like he didn't forget, too?" Gaz asks incredulously.

"Because the bawbag didn't. He sent the mystery flowers that made her cry. It was right after he got back from down range. Can't believe I didn't catch it earlier."

Price stubs out his cigar. "So, no party. And she is thinking about leaving. We really cocked this one up, boys." He stands and walks to the door, pausing on the threshold. "No flowers, no gifts. Make it up to her. And Soap," he turns to look the Scottish man in the eye, "sleep with one eye open. Ghost is absolutely going to make us pay for making her cry." He walks away, no pep in his step, now.

"Cry? How does he know she cried?" Gaz seems baffled by the Captain's surety.

"Course she cried. Everyone does when they are forgotten or abandoned."

"Ghost doesn't, though. We never celebrate his birthday."

"We being the key there, mate. Remember last month when she shoved a new set of gloves and a mask at him? Told him the ones he was wearing were manky as fuck. That was his birthday gift." He runs a hand through his hair. "Anyway, I'm off. Need t'think about how I'm gonna beg forgiveness from both of 'em."

[ashleyfilm]

Seeing Clearly - Chapter 2. Jackson

Please leave comments, I'd love to know your thoughts. And if you feel inclined to reblog, that would be so nice.

Chapter Warnings: cursing, There Will Be Smut, eventually) Minors - DNI

Characters: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader Plus Size. F!OC was recommended to me since there's a lot of description of her but I'm writing her as You (Reader) so hopefully you can still imagine yourself. Black hair, glasses, tattoos, big body, wears dark clothes, won't stop talking. Joel is tv show Jackson Joel.

Story Summary: Joel just saved your life, begrudgingly. He doesn't know exactly why but he brings you back to Jackson and you ingratiate yourself into his very small circle and his life. This takes place after season 1 of TLOU and season 2 doesn't exist in my brain because no.

Chapter Summary: You meet “the miller family” and get your sleeping arrangements. 1K Words.

Chapter 1 Here

Chapter 2. Jackson

Hours later, you approach the giant wooden gates of “Jackson” the community Joel had told you very little about on your journey here. Joel said approximately three sentences to you the entire time and you were so fucking exhausted you stayed quiet too. Surely to his relief. You see guards with rifles at the top of the gate staring you down and some on the other side of the gate as it opens. You look to Joel with fear and confusion in your eyes to which he just nods. What the fuck is all this, are you being walked to your inevitable execution, has this all been a ploy to get you here to use you for public entertainment, gladiator-style. Why did you agree, at least out there you could starve to death in peace.

Once inside the gates, a man with dark black hair, the same shade as yours but without your gray approaches with a charming smile but also a confused look on his face and he speaks with another southern drawl, “Howdy there, honey, you doin’ alright?” Looking between him and Joel, you realize how similar they look and how the younger man seems like the only person around who isn’t terrified of Joel. Who seems like he must be the town boogeyman by the looks on people’s faces with him around. “I’m Tommy, the handsome younger brother of your walking partner, here.” Again, looking at Joel with the mischievous treachery you imagine he did when the two boys were young, and Tommy was trying get under Joel’s skin.

“I’m uh,” you stumble over your words not sure if you should even tell these people your given name, but before you can decide what to say, Joel answers for you. “This is Ash, found her out there starvin’, alone, figured you could help her. Also, saw a clicker out there, took care of it.” You clock that Joel didn’t mention the clicker almost ripped your head off your neck and that he valiantly saved your life. Interesting, what’s his angle, to hold it over your head, make you think you owe him something. But he’s not even looking at you, he's looking down, avoiding you both. Tommy pipes in, “Okay… just out of the goodness of your heart, for me to help, okay, Joel. Well, Ash. Welcome to Jackson.”

He waves an arm out to the side and behind him to gesture to the town. You realize that you hadn’t even taken in your surroundings inside the gates, too overwhelmed by Tommy and Joel and everything you’re learning about this man who saved you. Jackson is a whole ass working fucking town. Lights, wait, LIGHTS? Electricity…is that a dog, like someone’s fucking pet. Oh my god, food, you smell food. Laughing, holy shit, people laughing. People, lots of them, old people, kids? Is that woman fucking pregnant and smiling and walking over here? “Hi, I’m Maria. I see you met my husband, Tommy.” You look at her stomach again, and her smile and her and Tommy’s hands when they entwine them together and your face, you know, is scrunched in confusion bordering on disgust, “I know, it’s overwhelming, take a deep breath, why don’t we get you something to eat,” Maria says calmly looking you over. Tommy let’s out a chuckle at your facial expression and seems to pick up on the fact that you can’t control your face and that it tells your every thought right on the surface. You nod and let them lead you to the dining hall.

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

You’re seated in a relatively empty dining hall with Maria and Tommy, Joel hanging back by the door like a watch dog or bouncer. Is he protecting the town from you? God, as if you could hurt anyone here, a bit outnumbered. Prick.  You try not to eat like you’re as starved as you are but it’s very difficult. Maria and Tommy smile politely like two leaders that get a lot of enjoyment out of this moment, watching someone eat and relax before their eyes, it’s what they get to provide. It should freak you out but it all just feels so genuine. “JOEL! There you are!” A girl, with a low brown ponytail and a hoodie, who could be described as like Christina Ricci in Now and Then that tapes her boobs down and punches boys for sport, runs up to Joel and hugs him tight. Okay, he has a fucking kid. That hugs him like that and he’s still that big of an asshole? “Hey, hey baby girl,” he says softly petting her hair, “I’m okay, just got caught up in somethin’ out there on my way back but I’m okay, everythin’s okay.”  You can’t tear your eyes away from this absolutely shocking interaction and the girl’s eyes catch you and you quickly go back to eating only to see your plate is empty, so you look back up at Joel and the girl. She slaps his arm as hard as she can, “How long have you been back and why didn’t you come tell me you were here, you dick and who is that woman staring at us?”

You cough, panicked, Maria and Tommy still watching you and sharing knowing smiles like they’re watching a damn play. Joel sternly says, “Ellie. Don’t-.” But she’s already stalking toward you, “Hello there, why don’t you take a picture, it’ll last longer.” And you don’t know what comes over you, but you burst out laughing. Like a full belly laugh, tears in your eyes laughing. Maria and Tommy follow quickly and Ellie eventually starts up too despite trying to act tough moments earlier. Joel makes his way over frowning at all of you like you’ve lost it. Still giggling, you ask, “How the hell do you know that saying it’s from like 30 years ago. People don’t even have cameras anymore; wait, do you guys have cameras here?” Ellie laughs, “I like you, who are you?” “Hi, I’m Ash,” Joel looks up at you when you use his nickname for you, “Nice to meet you. Your dad saved my life from a clicker and brought me here.” Tommy and Maria look stunned at your admission and all three of them whip their heads around to Joel who just clears his throat, frowns and shakes his head.

“He’s not technically my dad but..cool. Well, I’m glad you’re here and not dead,” Ellie smiles big and turns to Joel, shoulder-checking him. “Look at you, ya old softy, saving lives and bringing in newbies, who woulda thought. I’m heading home, see ya later, old man. See you around, Ash!” As Ellie leaves, Joel and you exchange a look, you can’t read exactly what’s going on in those eyes of his but he’s clearly fighting something, maybe he’s pissed you saw him interact like that, soft and nurturing with his daughter. But it wasn’t your fault, you’re just… there. Still feeling his eyes on you is burning you up from the inside, awakening something you haven’t felt in a long, long time. Something that feels an awful lot like desire.

Tommy walks over to Joel and quietly says something you can’t make out. All you hear is Joel saying “No” and Tommy saying “Please” and then Joel sighing, again. Tommy then turns to speak to you, “Look Ash, we’ve got limited space at the moment, we’re working on clearing some small apartments above the shops on main street for people living alone but it’s a few weeks before that’ll be done. For now, we’d like you to stay in the guest room at Joel and Ellie’s. She’s staying in the garage out back so you’ll be in the main house with Joel till we can get you into a new place.” You immediately look at Joel whose eyes are staring daggers at you and if he wasn’t so fucking hot, you might have been scared, but instead you feel the heat of whatever this is between you right at the apex of your legs. Then, your face betrays you, like it always does and all you can do is smirk, you actually fucking smirk at him, and he turns and walks away so fast you almost have to run to catch up.

[nightlyrequiem]

The Other Side of Paradise

8) To Bond

Cross posted from AO3

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9, Ch.10, Ch.11

You try to make the best of your life working at a small bakery in a city with rising cartel violence. One slower day, a man starts harassing your coworker. Despite the obvious threat, you stand up to him anyway. Unbeknownst to you, Valeria just so happened to be there to witness it.

A/N- All chapters containing smut will be labeled mature. The fic is fully written with the whole thing on AO3 but chapters on Tumblr will be posted one a day.

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Dual POV, Happy Ending, Plot with Porn, Graphic Violence, Inappropriate Use of a Knife, Masturbation, WLW

'What are we?' That's the newest question burning through your mind. You have to stop yourself from blurting it out when she visits you occasionally at work. You have to stop yourself from texting the question whenever you pick up the phone. Lest you come off as needy and desperate. The budding romance between you two is still new and delicate and you'd hate to scare her off by springing a question like that on her. If you pretend to be chill and relaxed and let things progress naturally then everything will happen like it should.

That being said, you take extra care to make yourself look nice. More than usual. You go about your workday with a little more energy. Just the chance that Valeria will come in to visit you is enough to make you feel giddy. To give you a renewed sense of purpose. You wash dishes and pack up baked goods with a small smile. Whether or not anyone notices your slightly more upbeat energy, they don't comment on it. Although you almost wish someone would ask you about it. You'd love to gush about your feelings to another person. To talk endlessly about Valeria. It's all you can think about. She's all you can think about.

You wipe down the tables and keep an ear out for the sound of the door opening. At one point, it did, and you turned with a smile only to see some guy. Your disappointment was immeasurable, and you were glad he already knew what he wanted so he'd leave faster. The door opens again, and you look, trying not to be too excited in case it isn't who you're hoping for. It is, and you smile. Resisting the urge to drop the rag and bound over to her like a puppy. Instead, Valeria walks over to you and leans against the wall. Immediately you can tell she's had a rough week. There are slight dark circles under her eyes and just a general aura of exhaustion radiating off of her.

You set the rag down and turn to face her fully.

"I'm glad to see you." You say softly. Hoping to provide at least the smallest amount of comfort. Valeria runs a hand through her shiny black hair.

"Yeah." She replies. "It's nice to be here." You plant your palms on the table and hoist yourself up so you're sitting on it. You'll have to wipe it down again later, but you don't mind.

"Especially near closing." You reply.

"Mhm, it's always so quiet." She murmurs. Her hand reaches out for yours and she casually interlaces your fingers with hers. Your heart acts like it's the most exciting thing to have happened to you.

"I know, I used to come here after school to do homework." You reminisce. You did more eating and reading than actual work, but the details aren't important. You still passed after all.

"I'd seen you a few times, actually." Valeria says quietly. Turning her head to look at you. "My friends used to make fun of you for being by yourself.

You blink. Not entirely sure how to respond to that information.

"Oh. Well... did you ever... participate in that?" You ask awkwardly. Valeria stares at you silently for a few seconds before replying.

"No." You aren't sure how true that is but that was back in high school. She's clearly changed if she's willing to be here with you right now. You're holding hands. Why let that ruin a good thing? Forgive and forget, right?

"How has your day been?" You ask. Switching topics. You're starting to really like the casual small talk with her. It feels domestic.

"Long." She sighs.

You give her hand a slight squeeze.

"How about we go for a walk after I finish cleaning up?" You suggest.

"Doesn't your shift end at ten?" She asks. Furrowing her brows. You just shrug after getting off the table.

"It's only an hour, I'm sure Mateo won't be too mad." You remark. Grabbing the rag to re-wipe the table. Valeria watches you work. You can feel her gaze on the side of your face. It makes you feel a little self-conscious.

"A walk would be nice." She finally says. "We should go down to the creek." Valeria doesn't have to specify which creek. Everyone who grew up in Las Almas knows which creek. It's where children held mock wars and swam. It's where teenagers made it to fourth base and partied. Well, some teenagers anyway. You didn't know enough people to get invited to parties.

You finish up with closing duties and lock down the bakery. You and Valeria decide to walk towards the stretch of woods housing the creek instead of driving. The bakery isn't that far and the whole point of this outing is to walk. To your surprise, your hands stay connected while you two traverse the nearly empty streets. It helps reassure you that your feelings aren't just one sided, as if making out and heavy petting didn't make it clear enough. You make it to the woods and walk along the path in comfortable silence. You forgot about the bug population and have to keep slapping at your own limbs to fend off against hungry mosquitos.

You and Valeria arrive at the creek and sit down in the soft grass beneath a large oak tree. It's dark and a little cool out so you lean against Valeria for warmth. She wraps an arm around your shoulder and holds you. You feel content. You feel happy.

"I used to come down to catch frogs and salamanders." You murmur. You weren't ever successful. Not even with a net.

"I used to play hide and seek; I had this big group of friends when I was ten." Valeria replies. She turns her head to look at you. "I was an excellent hider, always the last to be caught."

"But you were caught eventually, or did you have to come out once everyone gave up looking for you?" Valeria smiles. You catch the glint of her white teeth as she speaks.

"The kids I played with didn't know how to give up." She says. "I was always good at hiding but I couldn't stay hidden forever."

You smile, amused.

"I used to love playing hide and seek, I didn't have many people to play with though and that number dropped significantly once I reached high school."

"I would've played with you." Valeria murmurs. You rest you head on her shoulder.

"No, you wouldn't have." She scoffs but doesn't rebuke your comment. You both know you're right.

"If I were less afraid over what people would've thought of me then I would have." You pause. A little caught off guard by the admission. Valeria never struck you as the type of woman to care what others thought. She was always confident, an a little mean if you're being honest.

You stare off at the glittering water.

"You worried over what people thought of you?" You ask.

"I was a teenage girl, of course I cared." She replies quietly. "I always cared. I always worried I wasn't good enough, not pretty enough, not feminine enough." She admits. She sounds uncomfortable. Valeria straightens up a bit. Her tone hardening. "I'm more than enough now though." You're still surprised over her revelation. Hearing that the woman you've always been a little envious of was probably just as insecure as you had come as a shock.

She doesn't speak again, and you don't ask. You just enjoy her company while you two look out at a shared childhood hotspot. After a while she removes her arm from your shoulder and stands up.

"We should go." She says. You wouldn't mind staying for a little while longer but if she's not staying you don't want to. Being out in the dark woods on your own isn't ideal. You stand up and follow her back to the path. She doesn't hold your hand this time.

[ravenelyx]

I Love You In Every Timeline - Sebastian Sallow

The Repertoire Of Memory is Worn

Fic masterlist

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name appearance for the reader

Themes: angst, temporarily unrequited love, pining, some form of transference¹, developing relationship, slow burn, explicit (eventually)

Summary: "He turned around, and the world seemed to stop around him. She had followed him: into another timeline, into another universe." In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: The last edited chapter before we get to the real new stuff, right after ONE YEAR OF ILYET! Happy brithday to this fic!!

AO3 - Wattpad

--

Perhaps Sebastian should have given the Gryffindor Prefects less credit after all. He should take back the bonus sapphires he had reluctantly given to the red gryphon for his "hospitality."

Because at that moment, it felt like anything but.

He remembered the look Hermione had given you when you were about to tell him your secret. Maybe a deep and dark one, the kind of secret that can only be shared through hushed whispers and damp breaths. The kind of secret that you’d only disclose to a trusted person.

Or, well, perhaps that was too far-fetched.

In any case, your tone of voice and the look in your eyes clearly showed that whatever you wished to disclose to him wasn't something you would have told Umbridge — or any other less preposterous teacher. And he wasn’t worthy either, apparently.

Sebastian wasn't looking for validation, nor was he fishing for pity; but maybe he did wish to be seen.

All things considered, no one in his new circle of friends — which looked more like a segment and a dot, given he didn't yet know where he stood with you — knew of his his deep and dark secret: his misadventure, nor of the reason he occasionally tugged at his sleeves when the cardigan itched at his wrists.

Sebastian didn’t know what to make of that burning longing sliding up and down his throat.

He wanted to tell Daphne.

He wanted to tell you.

He wanted to tell everyone.

Hell, he'd have even told Draco Malfoy if it meant that at least someone would acknowledge his standing, no matter how asinine and annoying their comments might be.

"...unless it's absolutely necessary," he recalled, echoing in his mind like an eerie consciousness. But where was it that he could draw the line between necessary and extremely-and-idiotically-self-indulgent?

It had been, reluctantly, two weeks since the Artefact had brought him there. Two weeks in which he hadn't seen Ominis or Anne — not that they wanted him around anyway. Two weeks without hearing her voice. Two weeks since he’d basked in a short wave of comfort that almost bordered friendship with you that day. Two weeks in which you hadn't visited the Undercroft, not even once.

Sebastian was there all the time, much to his dismay. If he sat there long enough, he could almost pretend nothing had really changed. He could almost trick himself into waiting for her to walk in and practise Confringo with him. He could almost hear Ominis and Anne's laughter as the Gobstones splashed him with their juice.

Almost.

Sebastian wanted to ask you to practise some spells with him there. Maybe, just maybe, if you placed your body at a certain angle and shrugged off your Gryffindor robes, he could have seen her.

But your hair was shorter. Just a little.

He had noticed it the day before when you'd turned around to collect your potion ingredients, and it had been eating at him ever since. Stupid, really, because your hair should have been the last, meaningless point on his list of discrepancies between you two.

As demonstrated by your escapade in the Library, it was quite obvious that, aside from some physical features and your last name, you two were like chalk and cheese. He recalled it all with tears prickling the corners of his eyes, because as much as he wished he could mould and fix and shape, he couldn’t. It was a mismatched proposition he was being lured into like a lake of sirens; showing him exactly what he wanted, before the real trick came out.

He wasn’t the guide.

"I can be sneaky, let's go," she had said, naively.

"Hold on, now," he had answered her with a small, knowing smile.

"Is it always this easy to sneak in?" he heard his voice say again.

"The Library is closed at this hour, so no. It's not."

He wasn’t the protector.

"You said the librarian would be gone by now!"

"I said usually!"

"It's five to eight. That means we have twenty minutes, at max, before Madam Pince returns," and he had nodded in understanding.

He was nothing he used to be and everything he loathed the most. Just as he had been that day in the Catacombs.

Sebastian took a loud, deep breath that sounded more like a choked gasp.

Everything felt wrong. Everything was wrong. It felt like the Universe (or that damn Supreme Being that had been toying with him since he arrived in this world) had swapped your places. And the more he looked at you, the less he saw her.

And that scared him, because if one thing was true about Sebastian Sallow, it was that he was a selfish, heedless bastard when it came to matters of the heart, and if the only way to have her back by his side was to love her vicariously through you, he wasn't going to budge.

Read more

[f0point5]

I think the inherent idea of body positivity was good, but it just took a weird turn.

Like yes, you don’t know anyone’s story, so don’t be a fucking asshole and comment on anyone’s body. (Should be common sense)

Yes, you don’t have to starve yourself and look like a Victoria’s Secret super model.

But then it just turned toxic in all directions. People who were into fitness suddenly got called fat-phobic. And serious health issues regarding being overweight just got dismissed by body positivity.

A few years ago I got sick, eating was hard for a long time, and since I’ve always been skinny, I quickly got underweight. Then I got prescribed different medications with the side effect of weight gain. Went down almost ten kilos in the beginning, and up almost 30 kilos in the end.

Is it better than dying? Absolutely. But once the underlying issue was solved, weighing more than you should just isn’t fun. And no one can tell me it is.

And people around you are absolutely lying about it to you. Once I started losing weight when I was done with my treatment, everyone and their mother told me how great it is to see the kilos disappear and how great I look.

I guess what annoyed me about it was that the beauty standards never really changed…but we were just pressured into not acknowledging that? Like sorry to say it but what is considered “beautiful” and “attractive” never changed. Men didn’t suddenly start find thicc girls hot, they always did, hourglass was always the preferred body shape out in the real world. Heroin chic was a fashion industry trend. There was no seismic shift, as someone who dared during this period and knows people who did…the standard never changed.

It’s just suddenly it became illegal to acknowledge that your body does play a role in how you are perceived in the world, and that there are body types that are considered less desirable by society at large. And should that be the case? Maybe not. But it never stopped being the case, we just stopped being allowed to say it. Everyone got bullied into toeing the party line and it was so disingenuous. We all just had to start lying to each other (and some people to themselves) about what we actually thought about our bodies.

Sooo many “body positive” people took ozempic the first chance they had. And no hate for that, but you were lying when you said you adored your body, weren’t you? It’s okay to be uncomfortable in your skin - I don’t know a single woman who isn’t - but to be like “I like being size X” and then take the first option out of there is like…mkay.

If you love your body, whether thin or not, you should be able to say that. Thin people should be allowed to like the way they look and enjoy being the beauty standard the same way people should be allowed to enjoy their money. And I say this as someone who isn’t thin. I’m not built to be thin, and I don’t want to do the work to get toned. But I don’t begrudge people born with the body I wish I had, or the people who work for it.

And yeah everyone is lying about it. I mean I don’t know about literally everyone but I lost a noticeable amount of weight and everyone who always told me I was gorgeous was falling over themselves to tell me how good I looked. And everyone was finally comfortable enough to make fun of overweight people around me because they didn’t have to worry I’d get offended. And I get to be included in the “well we have self control because we abstain from food” conversations now. And the whole time everyone kept their comments to themselves but clearly there was this whole part of their thoughts I wasn’t privy to because I wasn’t “in”. And that’s just people I knew personally.

I just think, 100% we shouldn’t be commenting on random people’s bodies negatively. If you have nothing to say, stay quiet, it’s free. But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with acknowledging what we find attractive/beautiful and the fact that not everyone fits into that very narrow mould. That’s not everyone’s path in life. Some people are at the pointy end of the bell curve, and we seem to be moving towards a world where it’s not okay to admit that and I hate it (it’s happening with intelligence too).

[lottiepumpkinofficial]

day 22

chap’s 13,14

i’m in a funky mood, pls note my annotations may be strange/sparse today ALSO pls note there will be mentions of diet culture within this post- it will be labeled red as it starts and green as it ends, but please feel free to scroll if you don’t want to read that

i love ellie’s growing girl comment, i love that she constantly says and does things that flip gender on its head

tw diet culture. okay but it’s so fucking sad to me that jamie clearly only sees food as fuel, means to an end. he judges ellie for her food choices because he doesn’t care about the enjoyment or soul nourishment from food, he sees his body as a tool and therefore food as a means to make that tool work. he doesn’t even eat cupcakes for gods sake (i will never believe him that he doesn’t like sweet foods, i think he’s kidding himself) okay sad rant over

🌹

ooh friendly reminder that @rosewoodconch has created oscar’s diary and you can read it on ao3

stay fucking vigilant, that word is said to lottie almost as much as unprecedented was said during covid

i’m glad percy has counselling, but i wonder how it works for him, of course they’d have to have a counsellor who’s fluent in bsl or an interpreter, but i’m more curious about what he actually says, because he’s very private with his issues and if he doesn’t remember the kidnapping at all, what does he say? does he make up stuff? does he say nothing at all? does he talk about some stuff but not other stuff?

and the biggest question of all- if rosewood has counselling facilities, why the fuck do the royal trio not use them? lottie at least should, she was kidnapped for fucks sake

small classes are the best, i took two languages at gcse and only 9 of us were in the double language french class

i mean only two people you know have shown up lottie

lottie 🤝 binah

autistic

interesting that her tiara had been growing heavy for her but the second she sees something similar to her tiara it glows and her wolf pendant grows heavy

what happened to her? uh well she cut off her hair and founded the school you’re sat in

i love love love the parallels between ellie and liliana

also for anyone who does not know me, i am lottie and i am also william tufty 🩷🩷🩷

i also love that liliana is basically ellie and lottie smushed together as a person

okay so all the people in that class saw liliana wearing the tiara, and presumably they saw photos of lottie in it at the ball, how did nobody but professor devine and binah put two and two together

i’m also mildly confused that lottie’s vegetarian but she has a leather workbook, that feels very against her vibe but maybe that’s just me as a vegan

i wish we got more about binahs family, i know we get some stuff later on but i wish we got moreeee

heavy pendant=lottie connecting to herself

i think even from so early in the series, it’s a warning about giving up your own life for the service of someone else, no matter how much you love them- lottie and jamie giving up their own lives makes it so so much harder when inevitably it comes crashing down, because it had to, there was no way ever that things would be sustainable as they were. jamie needed to find himself, even if that meant briefly joining a terrorist organisation; and lottie needed to take her friends (especially ollie), her future and most importantly, her own feelings into account

again with lottie’s thoughts, i don’t think this is in her own voice, i think she’s imagining jamie telling her off

also the foreshadowing from this about jamie, she responds as herself, the princess does have a cousin

do we think binah knows about jamie at this point? is there anything binah doesn’t know?

okay clearly i do have a lot to say today

so there’s lilies everywhere- lilies=liliana and professor devine says lottie is connected to the flowers, i think if you pay attention there are so many floral hints in the books

also lilies symbolise purity and rebirth- do we think there’s a significance in this

oh of course he’s reading hamlet (princely reference?)

malevolent minx, i love it

well clearly she did summon up the spirit of liliana, she manifested lottie and she manifested going to rosewood

YES ELLIE DID SUMMON SOMEONE- YOU

howling- wolfy hints

this bit reminds me of carmilla (if you know what i’m talking about omg pls tell me)

uh oh, you’re halfway there to figuring it out lottie

pls lottie think of one other time you’ve smelt that without lola and micky present

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 157 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: baking something in the kitchen, most likely with apples...

JON: "Martin has left it here to let me know that whatever the situation is with Peter Lukas, it is entering its final act, and he needs my help." Jon does not consider the option of Martin leaving the tape to say goodbye. The accompanying statement would say otherwise because it kind of says the Extinction does not exist in the ways they thought after all. But at this point Jon doesn't know/Know the content of the statement yet.

JON: "Alternatively, Peter may have left here to… goad me into action? Or just to gloat, to highlight my helplessness at everything." Or to tell Jon to stay away because Martin has made his choice. Still, this only works without the knowledge of the statement.

Just a small bit on the pronunciation of Klanxbüll, the Umlaut is a bitch of course, so I’m leaving that out. But I'm putting this in because of the double L. These usually mean the vowel before them is short (I say usually because there a short vowels without a double letter afterwards...). It should be like "bull", not like "cool". Which is funny that Jonny would pronounce it like "cool" because I think this works very similar in English? He's always been very good in German pronunciation.

"Combined with its extremely disturbing symptoms, which caused the skin and muscles to become loose and malleable until they sloughed completely off the body, leaving only a skeleton and organs…" Urgh this sounds horrible... Corruption/Flesh cooperation!

"Thin trails of blood and skin crisscrossed to the streets, and the walls and windows of nearby buildings were coated in a fine sheen of discarded gore." Not gonna lie, body horror has never done much to me (when it's not about eyes... and feet, actually...) but this is different... It sounds so alienating, probably because it has a supernatural cause and is not just an axe murderer going berserk. It's like Alex said, you can kick those. How would you kick the darkness for example? (Though I think Alex also referred to the Corruption when he was talking about kicking the Fears and this one is the Corruption...)

"It didn’t take me long to find my first victim, wrapped around a lamppost. He had clearly tried to lean on it for support in his distress, but his flesh had begun to spread and fuse over it in thick, ropey tendrils. His bones were almost bare to the elements. But it was then that I saw the thing that, to my mind, is perhaps the worst of it. His heart was exposed. It was beating fast, so fast, despite the awful green decay that seemed to be eating at it." Ahhh, you know what this reminds me of! Annihilation again! (Already talked about that one in MAG 149, also a supposed Extinction statement.) The once-a-person fused with the wall (I think that was that dude the previous team cut open... Actually you know what, that one was also so alienating and crazy, it made me nauseous! That is very rare in horror movies... Annihilation was just awesome...)

"an old man whose bright eyes still stared out of his skull, watching the television, though the rest of him lay pooled on the floor." Hmm, a comment on the generation now almost living in front of the TV despite having preached not to watch TV so much 25 years ago...?

I don't recall us ever finding out who left the tape with this statement for Jon... Definitely not Peter, I'd say, that leaves Martin or a itsy bitsy Spider. And after all, Jon needed to go after Martin.

JON: "Really? Where’s all her stuff?" Lol, this "gotcha!" tone...

GEORGIE: "Bedroom. Why?" JON: "No, I just…" [TELLTALE STATIC CRACKLING OF THE EYE SOUNDS AS JOHN FITS THE PIECES TOGETHER.] JON: "Oh. Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t – I didn’t realize you were to-together." GEORGIE: "That’s ‘cause it’s none of your business. Now leave." Ah yes, the Eye never disappoints to go after personal information.

MELANIE: "It’s – it’s been good for me though I feel alright. I’m – I’m not scared anymore." MMMMHHMMM!!

Also quality content of the Admiral!

JON: "I don’t have time for this. What is at the cen–" [A SOUND LIKE A BLADE BEING DRAWN AS THE ARCHIVIST BEGINS CHOKING. A SHARP, UNSETTLING TONE BEGINS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.] HELEN: "No. We’re not playing your game. Now don’t forget how sharp I can be, Archivist. Perhaps here, now, you’re powerful enough to learn what you want from me, but if you try, I promise you I will resist. And only one of us is going to survive the attempt." Helen really shows her true colors here. First she's amused of how hopeless and desperate Jon is but then she switches to actually flat out antagonizing him. Helen does sometimes call him Archivist, but here right now it’s not a coincident.

JON: "Just tell me what’s going on. Please." HELEN: (gleefully) "Bad things, Archivist. Really bad things." Ah, this is such a good prelude to the finale!

@a-mag-a-day

[a-lil-strawberry]

I can't with her anymore. I really can't. Today some women in my family, including my mom and sister, went shopping around at Amish greenhouses and such. I didn't want to go bc I'm not a plant person and I don't want to spend time with my mom, even among other family members that I love. When my sister and mom were on the way back they called and asked if I wanted food. I said sure (I shouldn't say yes to offers like this anymore from my mother. It's low-key love bombing, plus "well I got you fast food, so that means you owe me all this work around the house taking care of my years of hoarding). So anyways they get home with the food and I sit down with them bc I love my sister and I don't see her often. My mom makes some homophobic comment (I'm side b bisexual and of course she can't know), makes a comment about how people are entitled for expecting $19 per hour, then ironically also despairs over how the cost of living is so high. Whatever, these are common with her and the least of my troubles regarding her. She's a closed minded and stubborn old conservative. Whatever. Actually what led to the housing cost comment is worth noting. My sister and her were talking about doing a crop share thing, and how they would meet in order to share the crops (my sister lives two hours away). I'm just sitting there stimming zoning out bc my fight or flight is always on around her. Suddenly I'm brought in when my mom says "or maybe kaity would drive and meet you some of the times" in a tone that was like she was basically saying "maybe kaity will do something for me for once" and my only response to this could be "well I'm probably moving out soon" then my mom instantly starting describing how bad costs are and how high rent is and how if me and my brother move out she'll probably have to get a renter bc costs are so high. Okay so first of all. That was clearly an attempt to dissuade me from moving out by planting fear in me about costs, and also by placing guilt on me by saying once we move out she will struggle. I had no inkling at all before that my rent money that I paid her was helping her out in such a notable way. It's almost like she kept that under her sleeve to use as a last ditch effort like this. She never ever acknowledged or made it known that I was helping her by paying her rent. In fact, she used to passive aggressively hint that I should be paying her more. I'm pretty sure my brother did end up increasing what he pays her due to this.

Anyways, then I'm fed up bc I know all this underlying stuff just happened and I don't wish to sit there anymore, so I get up and start to go to my room. Then my mom interrupts herself to catch me and say "we're going to carry all the plants in and split them up. I'm probably going to put mine on the porch and cover them with a sheet" I say "okay?" She says "do you want to help us?" I say "no" then I don't remember what she did or said but then I said "are you asking me to help you?" And I think she said no idk. Then I keep walking and she says "thank you for eating with us" like it's some grand thing that I never bestow up on her. I snorted, incredulous. You have to understand, she's not genuinely thanking me for eating with them. She's saying "I'm surprised you ate with us because you shut yourself out and you never help me and you are the problem" she has absolutely no awareness that the reason I don't readily help her anymore, and the reason i don't like sitting down at a meal with her anymore, is her. She hurts me. She guilt trips me. I also love her usage of "us" there. I love sitting and eating with my sister. If my sister asked me to help her with anything I'd be eager to. It's her. She, her behavior, attitude, and way she talks is the problem. She has zero awareness of that. And I can't tell her that because she gets critically defensive when I even bring up safety concerns I have for my cat in the house. I can't bring up mundane, but important, issues that aren't about her let alone tell her that I have a huge problem with her in general. There's just no fixing it. Meanwhile she just thinks I'm being a bad kid.

[lyon-amore]

What if...? Duskwood Chapter 6

Chapter 5  -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   

*Macie POV*

It was horrible when I got back to work. I had to listen to Christian tell me that I shouldn't turn in anything again without going through him first. It was clearly an abuse of power, because I didn't have to tell Christian if he accepted my news or not. Someday I'll make him eat all the words about him, but… Ugh… The boss's favorite because he attracts all eyes.

Well, the positive is Cleo's information. It seems that Alfie, the son of Mrs. Walter has seen a live legend 'The Man Without a Face', carrying her friend. I like legends, but clearly a legend can't exist, so that means there might be a witness to the kidnapping. Cleo told me to ask Jessy about the legend and she opened a chat for Richy, her and me, but since he and I were busy, we left it for later.

I'm reviewing the latest news I've been given and Aiden walks over to my table.    "Something tells me from the look on your face that Christian has told you how important he is and that you must be below him." He leans against my table, sitting down at the end.    "It's amazing that you have the same position so high and you are nicer." I commented, looking up from the computer.    "Not all famous journalists are as self-centered as he is, Macie." He winks at me and I laugh. "But you're the only worthwhile person in this place-"    "What she what?" Lian comes out behind him, placing a hand on her shoulder "Did I miss something between you two?"   I roll my eyes. She really has a sixth sense for romance. Either that or it's about married life, she wants to see her friends get married too.    "There's nothing between us," I replied with a laugh, "we're just friends, right Aiden?"    “Of course yes.” Aiden gets up from the table awkwardly. "Well, I have to go, I have to give the sport. See you later Macie. "    "See you later."    I return to the computer, but Lian still hasn't left my desk. I look at her and see that smile she always puts on when she's curious. Luckily it's Aiden and not Mister Hacker, surely there she would be jumping excitedly if she could, since with her pregnancy, she wants to be careful.    “Did you know that Aiden has been in love with you for a long time?” she asks me, tapping my shoulder.    “No way! I would have noticed.”    "Of course you know, you just don't care to know."    "Well, he's… cute."    ”Yes, his resemblance to Zack Efron in High School Musical 3 has them all drooling remembering their adolescence."     I let out a laugh and a co-worker looks at us badly for not working.    "You could give it a try," if she turns to see him walk away, "at least he's got a nice ass."    "Nah, I don't think so." I answered, looking at him, while I thought about the hacker. "But is that what you think when I should give him a chance?"    "It's the pregnancy hormones, what do you want me to do to it?" Her cell phone rings and she starts reading the message "Great!"    "Brian?"    "Yes, the poor guy has spent four years in an investigation that doesn't give him a day off, but… soon they'll give him at least one day aaaaand…. It coincides with the day of the party!"     I see her so happy talking about her husband, it makes me die of sweetness. They make me very envious, but at the same time she makes me happy that she has someone that she loves so much that she can hardly see him because of his work. Brian's job is government investigations, so he's always busy looking for criminals. He is another great friend of mine, almost like a brother. He also cares a lot about me.    "Connors! Bring us coffee!" A superior shouts.     I closed my eyes taking a deep breath. Lian pats me on the head.    "Don't get upset, it's not good for the skin." she jokes.    "I'm grateful that tomorrow is the weekend." I get up from the table, grabbing my bag and jacket.    "Why? You have something to do?"     The hacker goes through my mind. I could pay him a visit and bring him breakfast, I think after today, I think I should excuse me.    "You already know my plans: The Vampire Diaries series, a glass of wine and a couple of cupcakes."    "Macie, friend, leave Damon Salvatore and find yourself a real one, a vampire is not going to fill you-"     "See you later Lian!"      I want her to stop being pregnant, damn hormones. 

 I finally got to speak in the group and learn about the legend of The Man Without a Face. The story of a punisher of sinners who lives in the deep of the forest. His mark: Paint a raven on the door houses of those he is going to punish. He takes the victims to the forest forever.    "Um…so did Hannah do something?" I think after listening to Jessy “why else would a man who takes sinners go after her?"     I must write it down. While on Cleo's side, Mrs. Sully saw Hannah coming out of the pharmacy, maybe it has something to do with the photo I found of the prescription?    "What was wrong with you, Hannah?" I ask myself, somewhat worried about this whole situation.

  I got up early and talked to Jessy. The more I talked to her, the more I analyzed her. She didn't seem to be one to hurt anyone. Sorry Mister Hacker, I find Jessy a good friend, I can't suspect that she is the culprit. 

I take two coffees and go upstairs. I haven't found anything interesting unfortunately. He open the door again before I knock.    "But this time I went up in silence." I say surprised.    "No, you still need practice" he sighs, raising a hand to his head "What are you doing here?"    "First of all, good morning," I say with a small smile, "and second, I wanted to apologize for how I behaved yesterday, I'm not one to have a childish attitude." I hand him the coffee and he accepts it, letting me pass.     I hear him let out a lazy laugh. It's like he controls himself every time he laughs.    “You really care about nothing,” he tells me, moving closer to me “and you haven't sent any clues."    “But I have to write what I've found and besides“ I tuck my hair behind my ear, getting a little nervous “maybe I think it's not bad to keep you some company.“     He goes to his table with coffee in hand. I follow him and sit in my chair, at the same time as him.    "I don't need company," he tells me, even though his eyes say otherwise. I notice too much loneliness and sadness in them. “And surely you have more important things to do.“    "Believe me, for me, being here is much better than anywhere."    "Too much stress being popular?" He drinks his coffee raising her eyebrows. Little funny.    "Well, no," I replied, blowing on the coffee. “Because I like spending time with you even though you are Mister Grumpy.“     I watch as his cheeks turn pink. Now it has been my turn after his words yesterday. 

I smile happily. If I could, I too would have brought Henry to meet him and is it crazy to say spend all day here?    "I'm the worst option to pass the time" his words from him leave me curious. I don't think that way.    "I don’t think so."    "And if I don't like that you come to keep me company?    "You wouldn't have opened the door for me."    "I could kick you out now."    "You're not going to do it."    "Why do you think that?"    "Because you like that I'm here talking to you."     I place my hands under my chin, smiling a little mischievously. He leans back, looking to the side.    "Well?" I ask, waiting for his counterattack response.     He turns a little to look me directly in the eyes. I manage to see a small smile although he tries to be serious    "In a couple of investigators there always has to be a joker, someone has to be touched.    “Are you implying that I'm the clown?” I frowned, pretending to be offended.     I finally hear his laugh for real. Sincere. I like it a lot.    "Don't laugh." I replied, but I ended up laughing with him.     Yesterday's anger with Christian fades and I feel strangely happy. Seeing him smile makes my heart race. It's true, I've never felt this way for anyone. I like him and I don't even know his name. For now, I'll wait until I can ask him at the right time. 

I get a chat notification and Mister Hacker makes a surprised sound. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Thomas Dan?

 Dan What the hell? Where have you been?!

 Thomas You know what, doesn’t matter

 Dan What the hell is going on with you??

 Thomas You still holding up your end of the deal? Shit Dan, I am serious!

 Dan Yes! Yes I am. Of couse

 Thomas Thanks

 Dan Don’t make me regret this ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Mister Hacker and I looked at each other.    “What was that all about?” he asks me, though he seems a little more to himself.    "Whatever it was, it sounded highly suspicious."     He looks back at the screen, concentrating on the text.    "It sure did." He rubs his chin in thought, and then he looks at me. "Maybe we will be able to figure out together what it means" I try not to get emotional listening to 'Together', it's not good for my feelings if I'm disappointed later. "I thought it was more than odd that Thomas disappeared after the news of the dead body surfaced. "    "Maybe he was just devastated." I replied, gripping the phone tightly.     But of course, I'm curious where Thomas has been, if he doesn't want to be suspected, he shouldn't have disappeared like that.    "Wait, something else is happening."     With those words from him, I look at my phone again, curious. This time it was Dan talking to a man named Poke. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Poke How are you doing today Mr. Anderson! I’ve got your little message

 Dan Then why the hell are you texting me then?

 Poke I just wanted to make sure You are as paranoid as ever see

 Dan How about you cut it out?

 Poke Ok ok calm down You know the time and the place

 Dan Of course

 Poke Perfect

 Dan 350

 Poke You got it

 Dan 300?

 Poke No way

 Dan Asshole

 Poke Likewise Oh and Dan?

 Dan What

 Poke I am sorry about the girl

 Dan Me too ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I immediately got up from the chair going to the whiteboard to write it down. Too much information.    "Mmh... What do you think all of this could mean?" I turn to look at him, he has gotten up and started to walk around the room.    "It appears Dan is buying something from the stranger." I start to write under Dan the new information and the name of the man called Poke "And for  that he is asking for €350"  I write between question marks 'Drugs?', suspecting that for that amount, it can only be one thing. Maybe Thomas got into some drug thing and Hannah knew about it?     M.H. read the notes I posted.    "That’s exactly what I think." I look at him and he smiles at me. "Good job."    "Thanks." I smile back.    "Beside that, I am sure they referring to something highly illegal," he walks around the room again. "Dan was bending over backwards to make sure that object in question was not mentioned by name."    "We have to get to the bottom of this!"    "I know." I watch as he puts his hand to his head, scratching his hair desperately. "Let me think."     I keep looking at him worried. Is he okay?    "I am going to get the stranger’s phone number."    "Good idea, I will contact him and I take care of it." I notice my decision in my voice. I know I'll get something out, I have to do it for Hannah.    "That's the right attitude." I notice him excited, with that brightness that I had seen when I received the call from the kidnapper, only now he seems much more motivated. Will he do it to make up for what happened? "Give me a little time to find out the number."     He returns to the table and starts typing and moving the mouse fast.

 The image, the Poke number, looking for Hannah… I look again at the clean kitchen and since he's distracted, I walk around the house to see where he sleeps. In the room I only see a backpack, a blanket and next to it a small chronometer, will he rest well this way? The bathroom almost looks unused, but some soap can be seen. I open the faucet to check if at least it has hot water…    "How can he live here?" I wonder when I notice that cold water comes out but not hot. 

I return to the living room and look at him concerned.    "Hey Mister Hacker..."    "Yes?"    "Sure you don't want to be in a better place? Like for example... I can let you have a room in my house."     He looks up and seems alarmed. I haven't said anything bad either    "I'm fine here, don't worry."    "But-"    "Don't worry so much, Macie," the voice... It sounds soft, as if he wanted to reassure me for worrying, "I'm perfectly here and..."     He remains silent and looks at me doubtfully. He always does that. He is silent when he wants to say something important, he hides something from me.    "I'll come tomorrow" I change the subject, to avoid discomfort "Do you mind if I come for lunch? I just wanted to spend the morning with my son."     Mister Hacker chokes upon hearing my last words. I couldn't help it, I wanted to break the tension a bit.    "Your what?"    "My son."    "Do you have…" he looks at me alarmed "But why didn't you tell me before?"    "Because the subject hasn't come up." I take out my phone and approach him. "Look, this is Henry. "    "I don't want to see him" he turns away avoiding seeing the mobile screen.    "Come on, look."     Surreptitiously, I see how he looks at the photo on my screen, seeing my dear and cute rabbit. He lets out a relieved sigh, picking up my phone to look at the screen better...    "Now I understand everything." He doesn't look away, I even see a smile escape him. "He must be too important to you to have it as your wallpaper." he hands me back my phone and now I look at the screen.    "It was a gift from my friends," I smile looking at him. "I don't feel alone with Henry, I tell him all my secrets."    "Oh, then I don't have to worry."     He smiles at me and I feel like I melt at his little joke.    “No, he keeps them pretty well."     I can't believe he's laughing at what I just said. The joke I have made is bad.    “Then don't linger so long,” he tells me, relaxing in his chair. "Returns home with your son."    "Thanks, you're the best boss I've ever had." I teased, picking up my things.    "See you tomorrow then?" He asks me a little shyly, surprising me.    "Yes, I'll come tomorrow."     He returns to the computer and his bangs cover his eyes. But not his smile.    "See you tomorrow then, Macie."    "See you tomorrow, Mister Hacker." 

I can't wait for tomorrow to arrive. *Jake POV*

She really loves to make me nervous. It almost give me a heart attack when she told me that she has a son, I didn't expect her to talk about her pet. It had been a long time since I had so much fun with someone.

 When it comes, I forget what my life is really like. It might just be an hour to forget why I'm really hiding, but it made me feel relieved. Unfortunately, I have to remember that she won't be around for long, after all, she lives in the light, while I hide in the shadows. It could never work. I couldn't put her in that danger.    "Instead here I am, forgetting it every time we see each other." I look at Macie's cell phone screen, now understanding that the rabbit was her pet. I smiles again when I remembers how she had looked at the photo. "You have a very adorable son, Macie."

Chapter 7

[angelbluediary]

Red Flags I Hadn't Seen

June 30, 2020: "But it does hurt when it feels like I can’t do enough, can’t do anything right, even on days I actively try. I’d been so proud of feeling genuinely happy and creative this past week. I vacuumed today and then got absorbed into Youtube videos and online shopping and all of a sudden Rob is upset because it’s past the time he likes to eat and I’m at my computer. And then when I went downstairs to make it and he suggests an alternative, and I ask if he’d still like my food tomorrow, and his reply is “Will you actually make it?” effectively tugging on all my exposed insecurities and guilt. It’s moments like that, that make all the other little accomplishments fly right out the door because clearly I’m not doing something right, which means everything else is wrong. I love him so much but sometimes I think about how maybe if I were alone i wouldn’t feel so guilty and bad about myself all the time. Because if I didn’t cook and ate shitty little throw-together meals instead from the pantry or whatever, it would only reflect on me, it wouldn’t influence anyone else." This entry was prefaced with "Wakeup calls never come gently." I was scolding myself in this writing.

Aug. 30, 2020: "[Rob's dad] wants to sell this place by the end of the year, apparently. That gives me a matter of months. To figure out what the fuck I’m going to do. And all Rob really says is, “I can’t help you because I can’t sign any leases until I get a job.” And then goes to play video games with his friends. I mean, he seems almost completely unconcerned, to the point that I feel strange for freaking out about this. What the hell? You’re… going to tell me I’m basically being kicked out, with no specified date just SOON, look for other housing even though that’s probably impossible, days before you move away and leave me alone here? I never want to feel this fucking way again. I never want my life to be in someone else’s hands. I should never feel scared of losing my home and not having a place to live."

May 27: In all those years, he never once bought me flowers. And on one rare day I decided to treat myself to a bouquet of roses, he’d asked critically, “Do you really need those?”

May 27: Throughout all those years, he liked to invade my personal space in ways that made me very uncomfortable. Ways I described as making me uncomfortable. Boundaries I tried to set, but perhaps not well at first because I’d never had cause (or permission) to do so. He would loom over me with his body until I cowered, then laugh. He would intentionally ruin my masturbation sessions; he found it funny to frustrate me when I was finally on the verge of release. He would use my body for pleasure and then leave me, but only after listening to me beg for anything, any help in getting there (the lightest touch of fingertips on my nipples or even my hip–truly, anything), and refuse. 

He would make comments. About how the thing I’d set my sights on, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. That my feelings about a certain matter were wrong. He would argue with me about women’s experiences. He’d laugh at rape jokes in movies while my body seized up and my mind began a shrieking alarm. He would purposefully scare me while I listened to music and believed myself alone. He’d report on the noises I wasn’t aware I was making under my breath. If I was in the midst of stretching my body, he’d come up from behind, push my face into the floor, and mime fucking into me.

[bitchpleasebitchthankyou]

Miss Manners on: Body Comments

Q: I am a plus-sized lady. I eat healthy foods, I exercise and I take pretty good care of myself. Due to things beyond my control (a medical condition), I will always be plus-sized. Without the exercise and healthy lifestyle, I would be two or three times bigger than I am now. Because I'm big, people seem to think it's OK to comment on my size by saying things like, "You could probably lose some of that weight if you stopped eating bread," or "You should start exercising. That weight would come right off if you did!" Sometimes they say things like, "At least you have a pretty face." A perfect stranger who was behind me in line at the checkout said, "You know, if you drink more water and do some walking, you will lose a ton of weight." I said to her, "All I drink is water and green tea, and I walk for an hour every day." She simply told me that I must not be walking fast enough. What is a polite way to tell them they're making false assumptions, overstepping boundaries, and that it's really none of their business?

Miss Manners says: In more subtle times, there were expressions for dealing with outrageous intrusiveness. You would exclaim in a forceful voice, "I beg your pardon!" Or, in cases of crude intrusion, "How dare you?" Nowadays, people tend to take such expressions literally, Miss Manners realizes. She can already hear them asking why they should apologize for someone else's rudeness. No, no, no. It was clearly understood to mean, "You had better beg MY pardon" or, more bluntly, "That is none of your business."

Your Head Bitch says: THESE BITCHES. What the hell. I have so many suggestions I'm almost overflowing (also almost overflowing with rage), but first let me start by saying you can't engage with these people's premise or, like the person with the water and walking, they'll just assume they're right. It's a response for logical people, and clearly anyone who would comment on a stranger's body in public is not logical. Please feel free to select any of the following that suit your mood: "I'm not sure if you've heard, but we don't comment on other people's bodies in public any more." "Please do not presume to know my health better than my doctor and I do." "I am not interested in engaging with your incorrect assumptions about my health." "I don't recall asking you for your input on my body, and I am not interested in hearing it." "How dare you speak to someone you don't know in this way?" "I came here for milk and eggs, not your thoughts on my body." "Please allow me to exist in public without commenting on my size, it's incredibly rude." "I certainly hope you're not speaking to me." "That's simply not an appropriate thing to say to me." or, if you prefer, just an unamused stare followed by, "Absolutely not interested." You have a lot of options, and if these run out of steam, feel free to contact me for more. But please rest assured in the knowledge that with each I am unequivocally telling these people to fuck directly off on your behalf.

Another good option.

[graftisms]

JOSHUA & DEJAN — DAY TWENTY-SEVEN

location :   night / post-dumping / bedroom

featuring :   @guttcd & @blondcs

JOSHUA

getting dejan and max out of the villa feels like a personal victory for josh. he’s not sure he’s felt this good since having sex in the villa for the first time, after a couple weeks of celibacy. josh has to give dejan a hand for one thing: he handles the dumping with stone-cold grace, proving once more that he had clearly never cared about being there all along. after all those comments dejan has made to josh over the near week (he hasn’t even known the guy a full week, insane), josh can’t resist getting one last dig it. he finds the dickhead packing his bags, leaning against the nearby wall as he watches him.  “do i get a hug goodbye?”  he smiles, all too pleased with himself.  “no speech from you tonight before going? i’m surprised. got nothing to say?”

DEJAN

what a fucking snooze fest! sitting through everyone's speeches  was perhaps one of the most dragged out experiences of his life and like most things, dejan was not shy about showing it. checking his watch, eyeing the producers, the occasional yawn midway through a someone talking , you know...typical  ‘can we get this over with’ behavior. his bags were already halfway packed, having wasted no time after being made aware of the possibility of him going home. just a few more things and he’s out of there. so close to the finish line, so close to leaving this shit villa behind when of course . . . josh walks in, 

 “up to the very end you still manage to be a pain in my ass.” he shakes his head in disbelief. it’s almost impressive how committed he was to being a thorn on dejan’s side.  if dejan was smart he would look the other way, maybe mutter some bullshit about how there are no hard feelings just for the sake of a smooth exit, but he was a man as we all know . . .  they’re pretty stupid. “guess it was a bit rude of me to walk off just like that. maybe i should go look for jenny and tell her what everyone is thinking again. think she’ll cry this time?”  an irrational wave of animosity courses through him seeing  josh  standing against the wall with an all too pleased , shit-eating smirk. as dejan’s final act in the villa, he would love to wipe it off his smug face. “man to man, do you actually like her or do you just like how easy she is?”

JOSHUA

josh's shit-eating grin only widens at the man's remarks, because pain in the ass is kind of what he's going for right now. this is the man that's been terrorizing romi, broke up them and marcus, made jenny cry, made naomi of all people lose control and slap him... so yeah, josh is going to enjoy this moment. maybe dejan wanted to do a nice quiet exit, but josh doesn't believe that for a minute. as a boxer, dejan is a performer at heart. and the glint in his eye he sees from dejan says enough: he wants this too. "tears of joy, maybe." the mention of jenny feels like a jab, knowing she's probably crying for a completely different reason right now, one that doesn't involve dejan going. that's something he's in no mood to get into with dejan of all people. "oh, fuck you. you're gonna spend your last few minutes on television slut shaming a girl who's not even here? do you have anymore goodbyes up your sleep? there's still time to apologize to romi about being a stalker tool before you go back to the real world." josh already knows hell would freeze over before he gets an apology out of dejan, but he's trying to steer away from the jenny talk. "do you think your career will survive after being an embarrassing reality star for five days and making girls cry on television?"

DEJAN

“i didn’t call her a slut.” the implication was there, but if twisting words was a sport dejan would be an olympian medalist. “i just think she made it too easy for you to snake your way back into her good graces. interesting that you didn’t jump to defend your feelings though. very interesting.” as josh speaks, dejan focus his attention on packing the remainder of his bags but he is still very much present in the conversation. very much in tune with how he smugness in  josh’s tone and painfully aware of how aggravating it sounds against his ear. a scoff escapes him at the drop of romi’s name. “right. she looked real beat up about it with her legs wrapped around maddox. the most amusing thing of it all was watching everyone act like her moving on like that was the most shocking thing ever but guess what, asshole? she’s fake. you're fake, every single one of you is either playing a game or being delusional.” whether it was true or not, dejan genuinely believes it.  “please, like you’re a fucking saint. wanna talk about embarrassing? kissing naomi in front of jenny like that was the most cringe thing i’ve seen, but you couldn’t help yourself could you?” he chuckles, “bet that bitch still has you wrapped around her nasty little finger. jenny looked like she was about to burst into tears at any moment so don’t come to me about making girls cry when you seem to have a knack for it yourself.” there's a pressing building inside his chest, anticipation for his departure souring at the impatience having to sit through everyone’s speeches and josh’s insults. so he looked at him, tone dipped as he warns, “  i’m getting real sick and tired of listening to you yap so im going to need you to get the fuck out of my way, you hypocritical son of a bitch.”

JOSHUA

"well you might it surprising that two people might like each other, i know, considering you only came here for... what? to piss off romi and get attention for your shitty career? yeah, i know that you're only here because you couldn't even fight jake paul," his lips curl into a satisfied smile. one of the producers may have let it slip who exactly he is, or enough to know he's not even that good of a boxer. "you think this is going to help you? i'd day people who watch love island is hardly your demographic, dude."  the first time his smile starts to falter is when dejan brings up romi. josh may have started it, but he's already regretting it. he wants to jump to her defense, but the last thing he wants is to give dejan that satisfaction. unfortunately, he's awfully good at pressing the right buttons. "i never said i'm a saint, but maybe i'll miss having you around after all, because you sure as hell made us all look good. like, you're literally gone right now, and you're still dragging everyone's names through the mud. how about you just leave right now, and this way you won't have to talk to any of us again. better yet, i don't want to hear any of our names in your fucking mouth again, yeah?" he takes a few steps closer until they're side by side, reaching out to slap shut the suitcase dejan has on his bed, nearly getting the guy's hand in the process. "you gonna threaten me, tough guy? i'm not afraid of you." he laughs, a cold sound. his hands are itching to throw a punch, to make use of how angry he is at how the last hour has gone, even with dejan leaving.

DEJAN

dejan finds himself at a loss for words,  one part  because he’s just aching to leave and the other because he almost got his hand crushed under the force of josh closing his suitcase. he’s admittedly taken back both by his insults and by his gall but just like jake paul, josh was all talk and no bite. he can get as close to the edge as he wants but there's no question that there is a line that josh cannot cross. not while he’s confined to the bullshit villa. “back— “ he imitates josh’s humorless laugh with one of his own. “ — the fuck up.”  the tension brewing in the was palpable, two men mere inches apart, glaring daggers at each other. some real national geographic type shit, like two rams aiming to butt heads. or maybe this was the beginning of a mating ritual? unlikely. physically in many ways they were each other’s equal with only the slightest of differences. josh being only slightly taller than him and dejan combating that by having a little more girth to him. the scales were equally balanced, expect for one thing. dejan had no reason to fear getting kicked off anymore. so he brings his hands up to the other’s chest and he shoves. not too harshly, but enough to make it clear that he was more than willing to have his prior warning take a physical form. “or what? what the fuck are you going to do about it? ‘cus you bet your sweet ass  i’m going to keep talking shit about everyone in this goddamn villa. you, romi, jenny, naomi. even your weird little friend. rice or whatever his name is.” until he no longer makes money from it at least. until then, he’s gonna milk this cash cow dry, baby. he fills whatever gap that shove opened by getting up in his face again. “you can’t do shit. not here. not even out there. so  drop the fucking act already, okay?” another shove, this time he moves past him to grab another piece of his belongings. not without jabbing his shoulder sharply against josh of course.

JOSHUA

did he just push him? "did you just push me?" he snorts, as if it's funny, but there's a coldness to the way josh looks back at him with curled fists, cold eyes, and a nearly snarled lip. honestly, josh is tired of all these half-assed sissy fights for television. he knows that if he throws a punch, he's likely to get kicked off—the show had made that abundantly clear to the hockey player day one. but he can only punch so many walls to feel the satisfaction of a fight, different in the way throwing of words works. josh is no wordsmith, and dejan isn't either. but also—  "what are you, a girl? no wonder you lost to jake paul. i bet you used these moves on him." there's the temptation of more with riling dejan up, but mostly josh right now is thinking about how sick he is of hearing the names of the people he cares about most in dejan's mouth, thrown back at him like curses. josh has no doubt that he's going to slander all their names through the mud, especially his own. and while josh doesn't believe that anybody is going to believe dejan bennani of all people, the fact that he's going to be saying things about them that none of them will be able to hear until they get out of the villa makes his blood boil. before he can even finish butchering rhys' name, josh is giving him a shove back. he can't get in trouble for something that dejan did first, right?  "you're a fucking crazy person, and nobody is going to believe you. but i swear to god—" he's cut off by the oomph that escapes him when dejan shoves past him again, and josh's elbow makes contact with his ribcage, before he decides to shove something else: the unzipped half-packed suitcase off the bed, letting his things scatter around the floor.  "i swear to god," he says again, picking up where he left off,  "if i hear you reaching out to romi or naomi or any of us after this show finishes, i'm going to kick your ass. and i won't have this place to hold me back. i'm warning you now."

DEJAN

“oh don’t worry, i’ll give you a minute for your brain to catch up.” his tone is a bit lighthearted now that he thinks josh will step down. a smile even grows on his  face when josh shoves him back, but he doubts it will go further than that. it can’t. not unless josh wanted to crash his and max’s plan of getting mimosas at the airport.” your shit talking has gotten better” that jake paul comment and josh jabbing his ribcage manages to bubble some of that previous annoyance again but what really sets him off is the sound of his belongings being clashing against the floor. he looks back, eyes landing on his suitcase now one the floor then up at josh. “oh...” hand shoot up to smooth the wrinkles forming on his forehead, almost frozen in a moment of disbelief. dejan doesn’t catch everything that josh says, but the words ‘im going to kick your ass’ are so engrained in dejan’s psyche that they're near impossible to miss. “oh, you're going to kick my ass?   you're going to kick my ass? ” any feigned nonchalance in his tone is long gone, how replaced with a much harsher note. once again the distance is closed only this time his intent isn’t to shove. “i would love to see you try! c’mon pretty boy, let’s fucking dance.” there’s too much adrenaline, too much anger clouding his mind but once again he reminds himself that he has absolutely no reason to hold back anymore. the moment he is within range, his torso shifts to the left and in an all too familiar motion, dejan swings.  the sound of his knuckles making contact with josh’s right cheekbone fills the room, sharp and piercing like a crack of thunder and it’s so goddamn satisfying that dejan can’t help but chuckle immediately after. he takes a step back not to retreat but rather to present himself. “go on, then!” an undeniable challenge, but dejan finds it highly unlikely that josh will have the balls to follow through.

JOSHUA

he can tell exactly the moment that he's surprised dejan, when josh has him exactly where he wants him, and only them does his smile return on his features. unlike the frosty ones from earlier, it's back to being genuine and smug, just glad to see that something can make dejan react. if he had left with his head held high like it appeared like dejan was planning on, josh would've gone crazy. but he wants to see him a fraction of as rattled as the entire villa has been rattled by his presence, and josh can finally tell that he's gotten it. "aw you think i'm pretty? i'm—"  josh doesn't get a chance to finish that sentence, not when the wind is immediately knocked out of him in a punch that's only fitting of a fucking boxer. maybe it was all his comments about how poor he was against jake paul, but josh didn't expect him to be able to land a punch as well as he did. it didn't help, of course, that he had been in the middle of running his mouth the whole time. for a moment all josh can do is recoil, a groan escaping him as his hand goes to his eye. yeah, that's definitely going to leave a mark. "son of a..." this is the part where he should turn around with his tail between his legs and run back to the rest of the party, lest he get in trouble with production—or worse, his teeth knocked out. but there's an adrenaline that comes with the freedom of a fight, and dejan throwing the hand first makes it hard to even consider an alternative other than the one that comes next: right when dejan is expecting him to turn around, josh's fist slams into the side of his face, nearly identical to the shiner the other guy had just given him. maybe the chest would've done more damage, seeing as he's not a professional like dejan, despite havig used a punching bag numerous times before. but he's not looking to win the fight; he's looking to give dejan the punch in the fucking face that he deserves.  "who's the pretty boy now, you son of a bitch?"

DEJAN

he leans his face closer, a mocking smile ever so present on his features. “not so bad now are you, you fu— “ an all to familiar sensation cuts him off. his defenses are so down that the punch manages to make him stumble back a couple of steps. “fuck!” josh hit the side of his face with such precision that it send ripples of pain shooting through his entire head. his hand immediately grasps his jaw, massaging some of the stinging. it takes him an extra second to get his bearings and to move past the fact that josh actually struck back. there was no telling how much longer they had before production or god forbid, another islander walks through the door but at this point they were going to need an army to hold the two men back. “not baaad.” he muses. the expression on his face nothing short of animalistic. something between a grin and a snarl, altogether an unsettling display of anger and amusement oozing through his features. “didn’t think you had it in you. might make a boxer out of you yet.” despite being a little disoriented, his feet at still light as he goes into position. “rule number one? always keep your arms up to defend —"  final word is empathized by yet another strike, this time a jab, more calculated now that he’s assumed a stable stance. this time his fist lands square in the center of josh’s face.  there was no telling how much longer they had before production or god forbid, another islander walks through the door but at this point they were going to need an army to hold the two men back.  he retracts his fist from his face, only to send the other flying upward towards josh’s (frustratingly hard) stomach. rule number two was to protect your core at all times but dejan barely has time to relay that when the the faint sound hurried steps catches his attention. motherfucking producers moved fast.

JOSHUA

when dejan strikes him again, he's ready. josh isn't stupid enough to think he can do it without any repercussions. unfortunately, that doesn't mean he doesn't get hit—it's not like joshua can fight a professional boxer without losing, even if he has enough strength to keep him going longer than anyone else here would. he tries to duck only for it to not work, and from there, hell breaks loose. he can hear the scuffle of producers and potentially other islanders alike, voices in walkies telling everyone to break it up, but josh keeps swinging through it all. he misses dejan's abdomen but is able to make one final shot square in his mouth, already knowing it wasn't hard enough to break his teeth, but josh relishes knowing that tomorrow when dejan looks in the mirror, he'll see his bloody lip and think of josh. when two sets of arms are pulling him back, he's surprised to find that one of them is dylan, telling him how much it isn't worth it. and while he appreciates maybe the first decent thing the man has done to him in the villa, dylan is wrong: it was extremely worth it.  "stay the fuck away from romi outside of the villa!" is his parting words to dejan, probably loud enough for all the islanders to hear, before he's ushered away by producers. time to learn where naomi was kept during her slapping purgatory.

JENNY

she catches the tail end of naomi's relaying, a shared look with rhys before barreling through, elbowing past production for a glimpse into the scene—walkie talkies at the ready, staff mumbling things about EMTs on standby, blood (more than she expects to see) splattered on the floor, droplets of it leading to josh who's in the process of being escorted away. "what the fuck?" she asks of a producer, their arm instantly blocking her path leaving her craning her neck to see as he rounds out of sight.

DEJAN

metallic taste fills his mouth. he shifts to swing again but is stopped by two, no three arms holding on to him? one of each side gripping his arms and the other behind him, pulling him back.  he spits off to the side, mix of saliva and blood littering the floor. “fuck you! come find me outside if you're man enough to fight me without a safety blanket!” then he spots dylan. “ fuck you too you boring piece of shit! have fun being naomi’s little bitch!” a fourth guard is in from of him now, attempting to push him out of the room.

[ravenelyx]

I love you in every timeline - Chapter 4: The Repertoire of Memory is Worn

← Prologue

← Chapter 3

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Words: 8.8k

Chapter Warnings: pining, some angst, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name use for reader, some swearing, use of 2nd person for the reader, book dialogue

Summary: "It was as clear as day, no matter how many times he had brought his tie to his nose in the days that followed, that you had no interest in him.". In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: Basically a therapy session for him

You can read the whole fanfiction here on ao3

"The repertoire of your memory has shown me you yourself before you left. There were names of various countries, dates and sojourns and at the end a blank white page, but with rows of dots…as if to suggest, if it were possible: ‘to be continued’." -Eugenio Montale, The Repertoire

Perhaps he should have given the Gryffindor Prefects less credit after all. He should take back the bonus sapphires he had reluctantly given to the red gryphon for his "hospitality."

Because at that moment, it felt anything but.

He remembered the look Hermione had given you when you were about to tell him your deepest, darkest secret.

Okay, maybe that's too far-fetched.

But your tone of voice and the look in your eyes clearly showed that whatever you wished to disclose to him wasn't something you would have told Umbridge... or any other less preposterous teacher either.

He wasn't looking for validation, nor was he fishing for pity.

But maybe he did wish to be seen.

All things considered, no one in his new circle of friends — which looked more like a segment and a dot, given he didn't yet know where he stood with you — knew of his misadventure, nor of the reason he occasionally tugged at his sleeves when the cardigan itched at his wrists.

He wanted to tell Daphne.

He wanted to tell you.

He wanted to tell everyone.

Hell, he'd have even told Draco Malfoy if it meant that at least someone would acknowledge his standing, no matter how asinine and annoying their comments might be.

"...unless it's absolutely necessary," he recalled. But where was it that he could draw the line between necessary and extremely-and-idiotically-self-indulgent?

It had been two weeks since the Artefact had brought him there. Two weeks in which he hadn't seen Ominis or Anne — not that they wanted him around anyway. Two weeks without hearing her voice. Two weeks in which you hadn't visited the Undercroft, not even once.

He was there all the time, much to his dismay. If he sat there long enough, he could almost pretend nothing had really changed. He could almost trick himself into waiting for her to walk in and practise Confringo with him. He could almost hear Ominis and Anne's laughter as the Gobstones splashed him with their juice.

Almost.

He wanted to ask you to practise some spells with him there. Maybe, just maybe, if you placed your body at a certain angle and shrugged off your Gryffindor robes, he could see her.

Your hair was shorter. Just a little.

He had noticed it the day before when you'd turned around to collect your potion ingredients, and it had been eating at him ever since. Stupid, really, because your hair should have been the last point on his list of discrepancies between you two.

As demonstrated by your escapade in the Library, it was quite obvious that, aside from some physical features and your last name, you two were like chalk and cheese.

"I can be sneaky, let's go," she had said, naively.

"Hold on, now," he had answered her with a small, knowing smile.

"Is it always this easy to sneak in?" he heard his voice say again.

"The Library is closed at this hour, so no. It's not."

"You said the librarian would be gone by now!"

"I said usually!"

"It's five to eight. That means we have twenty minutes, at max , before Madam Pince returns," and he had nodded in understanding.

He took a loud, deep breath that sounded more like a choked gasp.

Everything felt wrong. Everything was wrong. It felt like the Universe (or that damn Supreme Being that had been toying with him since he arrived in this world) had swapped your places. And the more he looked at you, the less he saw her.

And that scared him.

Because if one thing was true about Sebastian Sallow, it was that he was a selfish, heedless bastard when it came to matters of the heart, and if the only way to have her back by his side was to love her vicariously through you, he wasn't going to budge.

But now he was starting to notice too many differences, and not just on a physical level. Because while he could ignore your eyes, especially when you were facing away from him, or the birthmark near your lip, or the crease which only showed when you drew your eyebrows together, he couldn't ignore your lacking presence in the Slytherin Common Room, or your sagacity and boldness, or your confidence and wit, or the way you appeared to know how everything worked to the brim.

Or how you always seemed to be one step ahead of him.

And yet, he had to reluctantly admit that he didn't completely hate it.

And that scared him, too. If not more so.

Because he felt like he was doing her a disservice by admiring you.

Sebastian wasn't stupid, he knew that the reason his heart leapt at your mere presence wasn't because of some real-life fairy tale about love at first sight: he'd never doubted that what was going on in his nervous system (and in his stomach, which for some reason couldn't get rid of those stings) was just the result of poor emotion regulation and transference (and also a form of intrigue, though he wouldn't admit it out loud). He was extremely self-aware, he prided himself on that, but in the last year, when he had let his feelings take the reins of his body, the results had almost always been disastrous.

And he was sure that this time would be no different.

So he thought back to his promise. To stay away from you, as he told himself. To find out what had happened to her, and then to ignore your presence and existence as best he could.

But how could he ignore you when you were everywhere now?

There had been days when he had scrubbed his hand more than once to get rid of your drawing, only to regret it the next day when he saw it fading more and more.

And so it went on, an alternating nightmare.

Two weeks of it.

He often caught himself staring at the seat next to him on the sofa near the fireplace in the Common Room: the seat where she always sat. Now Daphne occupied it most of the time.

"What are you staring at?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are my hips funny or ...?"

"What? No," he snapped out of it, and averted his eyes, only now realising exactly where he was staring.

To anyone else, it would have looked like he was gawking shamelessly. But it was Daphne he was talking to: some days she seemed to know him better than he knew himself. She was bloodily perspective in her own way, and he was more than willing to open up to her, against his better judgement.

If it weren't for her loose blonde hair and bright blue eyes, he would have seen Anne in her.

He seemed to be forgetting that it wasn't only you whom he shouldn't get attached to too much.

"I just spaced out."

She clicked her tongue as she smudged a little on her diagram. "I suppose the Chinese Chomping Cabbages aren't exactly piquing your interest, are they?"

He watched thoughtfully as she struggled against the ink, and the only answer he graced her with was a guttural sound at the back of his throat. She seemed too distracted to care.

"Why won't it stop dripping?" The blonde hissed, annoyed, and Sebastian half-smiled in amusement.

And then he reached into his pocket.

"Try this."

Daphne furrowed her eyebrows and picked up the weird stick he was holding.

"Is this a new kind of wand or…? Didn't know Ollivander had stepped up his game."

He rolled his eyes. "It's a pen. A… A muggle invention. Just press it on the paper and write. You won't need ink."

She looked at it suspiciously, as if asserting that it wasn't a Zonko product that would spray her with Bouncing Spider Juice when she least expected it. In the end, she seemed to trust him enough and shrugged.

And so she did as she was told.

"My, my!" The girl grinned. "You know I'm going to steal this from you, right?"

There was a pang in his chest, and his breath was cut short at the idea. He remembered the playful twinkle in your eyes and your smile as you handed him that same pen.

"No you won't," he retorted, his voice trembling slightly more than he had hoped.

"Ho ho," she said, keeping the pen tight in her hand and biting her lip to stop a sly grin from breaking onto her face. "Why not? Is it… special?"

He took in a sharp breath. "No. It's just my first muggle object… and I want to enjoy it."

"Your first muggle object, is it?" She shook her head. "You took it for a tattoo-making tool as well then, I reckon?"

"Tattoo-what?"

"Those weird marks Muggles draw on their skin. Permanently," Daphne shook her head, emphasising the last word disapprovingly. "But yours wasn't permanent, which means..."

"Mine? What are you talking about?" The boy leaned back on the armrest. "I've never visited a Muggle - er - tattoo-maker."

She sighed, seemingly exasperated, but her small, teasing smile told him otherwise. He felt cold sweat run down his spine.

"It might be gone now, but I remember that weird circle on your hand, and I don't suppose you've drawn it yourself, so either you joined a cult or… someone else who would possess muggle objects drew it for you."

He flushed and hid his hand by instinct, even if now the skin was smooth and unblemished again.

Just how perspective was Daphne Greengrass? Or was he just far too easy to read?

"I joined a cult."

She broke into a laugh. "Alright, then. I won't steal your most prized possession from you."

He loved and hated talking to her at the same time.

Sebastian watched musingly as his friend twirled the item in her hand, stopping now and then to draw symbols and write short words on the worn parchment, and he thought back to the wide range of abstruse sketches on your notebook, and on how he wished you would take that same notebook with you to the Undercroft when you would finally accept his invitation to study together.

He tried in vain to pull himself out of that reverie, to finally come to terms to what it really was: a whim he shouldn't indulge in. What was really important, and the only reason he should keep you in his company, was to find out what happened to her, what had made the wizarding world repute her achievements perfunctory and irrelevant enough to enshroud her existence to everyone.

It was a rickety plan you were both treading on, going from pillar to post those last few days with no success. You had told him you had visited the Restricted Section again, but that the only book who made mention of Ancient Magic had just said something about the hides of dragons and their protection.

His heart broke a little upon knowing you felt the need to do that alone without sending for him to accompany you: he thought you were in this together. On the whole, though, you had only been the bearer of bad news, but despite the crushing weight of repeated failures, he wouldn't acquiesce to the sinking reality of the impasses you were piling up. He was as stubborn as a mule and intended to remain so.

As always, you got away with no one being the wiser. He could not help but be envious and enticed at the same time.

Sebastian had always felt like he knew everything: what other people thought, what his environment was like and, above all, what he himself was like. He had an assertiveness that few people could master and many would emulate. He knew exactly what to say to make people tick. He knew better than anyone how the school worked. He had studied its rules and guidelines, and knew exactly how to put one over on them when he needed to.

And yet he had got caught.

You hadn't.

Neither that time, nor the previous times.

Now, he had kept Tracey Nettlebed at bay by fulfilling her stupid requests, and that seemed to prevent her from telling what happened that morning — how she knew was still a mystery to him — but, to anyone other than Sebastian, Daphne and Tracey, you still looked as if butter wouldn't melt in your mouth.

He wasn't even sure the Professors would believe Tracey if she had — as people around Hogwarts said — "dashed the dirt" on you two, given how much of a blabbermouth she was, but Dean definitely would have, and that was the reason you had been so adamant not to let your adventure out in the open.

So, despite his own reluctance in having to ask you to get those Snackboxes-whatever from the Gryffindor Common Room whenever Tracey cornered him near the slithery entrance of his own — and the constant twitching of his left eye whenever you mentioned said boy — he had decided to push his own qualms (and feelings) to the side and had yielded to your wishes.

He hadn't properly told you Tracey's exact words — having learned a bit later that the shocked expression you had worn, which had made the pit of his stomach drop to his knees, was due more to the fourth-year's tone of voice and threatening look when she'd said his name than to the 'your little crush' remark — and he had absolutely no intention of doing so.

It was as clear as day, no matter how many times he had brought his tie to his nose in the days that followed, that you had no interest in him.

And his marks on cricket darts seemed as appealing as squeezing Bubotuber Pus from its plant with his bare hands.

In the end, the house elves had been quicker, and had probably had enough of him and that damned tie lying biasedly on his bed day after day, and managed to snatch it and launder it properly.

The avocado was gone.

As he looked over at the girl copying her diagram — or, more specifically, at her hand to assure the pen wouldn't disappear into thin air — the familiar feeling of holes being bored into his head came back. He grimaced.

"Look behind me, see if she's staring," he whispered to Daphne, and the blonde lifted her head slightly to peer over his shoulder.

"She is."

He gave a world-weary sigh and rolled his eyes once more. "She is going to ask me for those damn boxes again."

"I say you cast Obliviate on her and end this nightmare."

His lip twitched up.

"Tough when you have to salvage your crush's reputation and hide her escapades from her other crush." She continued with an exaggerated sigh.

He grabbed the heaviest pillow he could find and threw it at her head, while she brought her hands up to protect her face. She laughed as her hair flew everywhere.

"Alright alright, sorry." She took a loud breath. "But seriously, I think Tracey might have been following you to know all that."

"Would you have guessed?" He replied sarcastically. "Stupid Library date, stupid Dean—"

"Is that what you asked of her? Where to find Dean?"

He cleared his throat and looked away.

"You know it's funny that if it weren't for Tracey, you two would have never been caught. Gryffindors have been outdoing us lately."

That was a low blow — not that Daphne knew any better.

Because in a way, in his twisted, homesick, lovestruck mind, that could just as easily add to the competition between you and her.

"What do you mean?"

"Let's say some people have been… tarnishing our reputation…" She shot a glance behind them and he followed her gaze to Malfoy and his group. "While Gryffindors are prospering with all kinds of renegades. Harry Potter for once: he has been basically rewriting the rules of this school ever since he arrived. Ron Weasley, his best friend? might appear a bit as a nitwit, but I assure you he's lost more points in his first year than I did in five of my own. Even Hermione Granger is a little sly one, despite her goody-two-shoes image. And the Weasley twins… don't get me started on them. They are the inventors of the Skiving Snackboxes your little friend loves so much: the Weasley products have been thriving in this school."

He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest, and hoped Daphne had forgotten about you, but she had decided to twist the knife deeper — inadvertently of course.

"Not to mention…" and she knowingly quirked her head to the side, lifting her eyebrows in the meantime, "she's just as reckless and slightly more cunning. If she hadn't been a Muggle-born, I'm pretty sure she would be sitting in my place on this sofa right now."

That wasn't a low blow, that was a whole punch in his gut. Part of him wanted the girl to just stop talking.

Part of him wanted to know more.

"What makes you say that?"

She shrugged. "Well, she was almost a Hatstall, after all. The hat kept going back and forth between the two."

His throat did a strange thing, blowing out air so quickly he choked on his breath. He tried to cough as quietly as he could.

"S-So… she could have been a Slytherin?" He asked, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Daphne seemed to ponder.

"To be honest… I think she could have. But I don't really see her as an ambitious gal, do you? I think she is a perfect Gryffindor after all…"

He nodded absent-mindedly.

Yet another thing he added to his list.

-

"Why have you never visited the Undercroft?"

"I—"

To tell the truth, you had wanted to... but only when he wasn't there. Good old inquiry for your worries and doubts.

But he was there all the time.

Whenever you approached the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower, you would see him wandering about, looking ever-so-suspicious as he pretended to strut nonchalantly through the hidden corridor.

He stood out like a Thestral in a herd of Unicorns.

It was a sight to see, really.

Once you had even approached him just as he was drawing his wand, and he had jumped up in alarm, as if you were a Muggle who had just seen him walk through the enchanted wall in King's Cross.

For a moment you thought he was going to erase your memories like some common Ministry minion.

He had obviously invited you in, with an expression on his face that you couldn't quite decipher: too welcoming and too afraid.

And a bit too hopeful.

But eventually you had to decline his offer, fearing another ambush by his fellow Rita Skeeter-wannabe Slytherin, and walked away.

You weren't quite sure what to make of the way his face seemed to fall faster than a Quidditch player hit by a bludger.

And whenever your separated Houses graced you with different planned lessons and, consequently, different free periods, it was either Umbridge strutting in that same corridor (albeit with a bit more authority and self-assurance than your classmate), Hermione dragging you back to the Common Room or the Library to study, or Fred and George cornering you to recruit you as a test subject for their new projects (from which you always managed to scurry away much to the twins' displeasure) that ruined your plans.

You were on your way to the Astronomy Tower when you saw the familiar head of messy brown waves walk towards you. And all your terrible luck and, quite frankly, not-so-nice neglect of that place Sebastian seemed to hold at heart had led you to this conversation.

"I mean, of course you don't have to come in if you don't want to, I just…"

He seemed at a loss for words, searching his mind for a reason to give you why you should visit the Undercroft with him.

And the way his eyes darted around as he turned his head slightly to the right and upwards told you that he perhaps had at least one, but one he'd rather keep to himself.

You didn't inquire.

"It's not that, I've just been… busy. O.W.L.s and stuff," you replied.

It was the most conventional answer a fifth-year could come up with, and frankly, most of the time it was rubbish, a fib of the highest order: any Hogwarts student could see through that lie like they could see through the numerous ghosts wandering out and about, and yet it was a silent agreement between the younglings to accept it as a reasonably polite excuse that most likely meant, 'I don't want to hang out with you'.

(Perhaps Hermione was the only exception: she actually meant it, but she didn't need to use it as an excuse either, because she tended to make it everyone's business. In a way, she saved the grades of most of her friends that way.)

Sebastian didn't seem to catch on, though — perhaps it was due to a cultural difference from his old school, you suspected — and you were actually glad of it, but he definitely had his difficulties reading between the lines and recognising the underlying implication.

"You… We… We could study there, though? I mean, McGonagall did tell me I needed a tutor."

(He had no care for tutors, he could catch up damn well on his own, thank you very much… but you didn't need to know that now, did you?)

"Isn't the Library better for that? Less dusty…"

"Less private," he replied with a playful smile.

You shook your head and let a chuckle escape your lips at his beckoning.

"Maybe… I usually need a special kind of environment to concentrate. As of now, the only three places that have lived up to that expectation were the Library, the Beech Tree and the Common Room," you answered honestly.

"The more the merrier, no?" He encouraged hopefully.

You almost gave in.

Almost.

In a way, you needed to talk to him about something important — he deserved to know as much as everyone else.

But not that night.

"We'll see, I suppose," you answered awkwardly, averting your eyes from his, not missing the way his face fell again.

-

Just the day after, though, as Sebastian was wallowing in self-pity at your conversation, as Sebastian was conveniently looking away from you as you sat next to him in Potion, you slipped him a piece of parchment on the table.

He did his best to ignore it, even going as far as pretending to swat it away as he reached for his Beetle Eyes, but in the end he couldn't keep his curiosity at bay.

'We need to talk.'

It was simple. Simply enervating. Simply invigorating.

Simple enough to make the Beetle Eyes fall from his hand.

He saw you frown at him as he quickly bent down to pick them up off the floor, and he would have gladly disappeared if you hadn't followed him to help.

"Butterfingers, eh?" You teased.

He couldn't stop the small smile on his face.

"What did you need to talk about?" Sebastian followed you out of the classroom as your fellow students walked to the Great Hall for lunch.

He stared frontwards and saw Hermione's head turn left and right in bewilderment. When he looked over at you to ask what she was searching for, you were gone.

Now, if he had also started to hallucinate you, he would have considered it his last straw.

But then Hermione turned back and your hand appeared from Salazar-knows-where to grab at his robes and pull him into another corridor.

You looked around urgently, assessing that no one was in earshot, before you turned back to him and conspiratorially whispered: "Hermione doesn't want me to tell you this..."

His eyebrows shot up, and so did his ego.

So you were about to tell him, even if Hermione didn't want you to.

His heart began waltzing again, and he wondered what sort of secret you wanted to share with him that was so important you were willing to betray your friend’s trust for it.

"What is it?" He asked, trying to appear nonchalant and level-headed, but letting the façade drop when you didn't buy it.

"Are you willing to break some rules? Well… again, I mean."

Now that he wasn't expecting, and a thousand scenarios of what 'breaking some rules again' meant for you crossed his mind.

He imagined another escapade in the Restricted Section, this time with no Tracey following you, but maybe involving that same wardrobe.

Or perhaps a journey into the Forbidden Forest, meeting Thestrals, fighting giant spiders, kissing against the trees.

He slapped his forehead and you flinched a bit.

"I'll… take that as a no?"

"I'm very keen on breaking rules," he moved that same hand through his hair, trying his best to ignore how stupid he must look with a red print the shape of his palm on his face, "just… er... just what do you mean?"

Another part of him dismissed his earlier thoughts of any intimacy and imagined you asking him to follow you on some sort of cloak-and-dagger adventure; imagined teaching you curses and spells, telling you his every thought and having you sharing yours in return, showing you every side of magic he was willing to explore still.

He wanted to pretend that you would follow him into the deep, dark abyss of immorality and sin, that you would take the Cruciatus Curse for him if he had asked, that you would forgive him if he had told you about Solomon, that you would stand by his side even after his soul had been warped and infected and lost, and that you would do your best to put it back together and keep it with you, safe in your arms.

Of course, that's not what happened.

"We're thinking about having secret Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons and we are supposed to meet this weekend in Hogsmeade to discuss the details. I figured, since you hate Umbridge just as much as the next person, that you deserved a chance."

His mouth fell open. Secret lessons?

"Like a secret club, or…?” He couldn’t help but think of Lucan Brattleby and how Crossed Wands would suffer without his presence. If any of them even noticed.

“We’re not sure yet, it's barely an idea. It’s just... you know how Umbridge has been treating our education, and given what has happened in the past few years, and especially last year, I think we should all be prepared for what’s out there.”

What's out there? Last year? How much did he still have to catch up on?

He knew about some Dark Wizard being around — Ron and Hermione had explained all about it his first day — but the way you spoke about it, the whole ordeal seemed far more serious than he had anticipated.

“Sure, count me in,” he simply said, clasping one hand in the other.

“Then we’ll meet this weekend and go to Hogsmeade together. Mind you, let’s stay away from Hermione at first, or she’ll become suspicious: it's better to ease her into the news once she has no way to moot… or argue.”

Sebastian didn’t want to let his thoughts wander.

But there was a certain word flying around in his mind that he desperately tried to keep under key.

“Is this a date?” He asked with a playful grin, letting the key fall with a clang.

You rolled your eyes. “Tell me why I knew you’d say that.”

That should have made him feel somewhat proud, but he only felt a painful twinge in his heart. Is that all you thought of him?

He bit the inside of his cheek.

“Do you have your permission slip?” You asked him, and he shrugged.

“I’m sure I’ll manage.”

-

The day came, just like any day when you live in a world where clocks just won’t stop.

And Sebastian dearly wished they would.

You were a few steps ahead of him — a well-conceived strategy not to let Hermione have her suspicions — and he just couldn’t stop staring at your hair.

And how it should be just a bit longer.

He wanted to slap his forehead again, but that would have drawn too much attention to himself, and, honestly, he could do with less attention lately. He already had too many holes in his skull from Tracey’s piercing eyes.

Add another one right through his glabella from Filch.

After the caretaker had ungracefully leaned in towards Harry Potter to smell him, he was now eyeing Sebastian up and down like he was a rat who stole cheese right under his nose.

His permission slip was perfectly valid, though, as Dumbledore himself had guaranteed for him given the circumstances.

He walked a few feet behind you, with Daphne following suit.

"So it's a date, or…?" She gave him a smirk.

"Not really." He replied curtly as he remembered your words.

As you reached the outskirts of Hogsmeade, you seemed to have found an excuse to separate yourself from the group, and he said goodbye to Daphne who in turn went and joined another Slytherin boy, whom Sebastian recognised from that day in Charms.

As soon as the trio was far enough that you could barely distinguish their shapes, you motioned Sebastian to join you, and he did so with a grin and a bouncing of his feet.

And a growing shame in his bones once he realised it.

"Well well, looks like you will be my tutor after all?" He tilted his head and let a small, teasing smile play on his lips.

You weren't looking at him, though, but at the spot on the ground right next to him, scrutinising it like it was the most interesting place in the Highlands. Your eyes then began running up and down under a frown, inspecting the air. He turned his head, half-expecting to see someone standing next to him, or at least anything more than the flying, rusty leaves.

"Are you seeing something I'm not?" He asked half-jokingly.

And then it hit him. Maybe you were seeing something he wasn't — maybe some white drops dancing on the ground, maybe traces of Ancient Magic, maybe your gift was actually there, only dormant, maybe—.

"Was Daphne not interested?" You interrupted his musing, finally gracing him with eye contact.

His chest seemed to deflate. "What?"

"In the lessons, I mean. I expected her to be, perhaps I was wrong."

Sebastian hadn't told Daphne what his meeting with you was for: he had thought it was a secret between you two. Sure, he knew Hermione would be there, and if she was, so would Ron and Harry, but it would have been easier to steal you away from three people than more.

He had even planned the lessons in his mind like a madman, dreaming of the day when he could teach you everything you didn't already know yourself.

"Uh... she had something else to do."

You nodded in acknowledgement. "We're meeting at the Hog's Head. It's a bit more hidden and away from prying eyes. No one would mind if a bunch of students suddenly came in there."

A bunch? How many people were supposed to intrude?

It's not intruding, he reminded himself. This wasn't his idea. He was the one intruding.

"Fine by me… so, how many people are we talking about?"

"A few… could be ten, could be twenty…" you shrugged.

That was a great deal more than a few.

"Good… all right…"

There was a beat of silence as the two of you set foot on the High Street.

“So, I had promised Hermione I’d meet them beforehand, so you’ll either come with me and witness her wrath, or you’ll come in with everybody else and endure the ugly stares they're going to throw your way.”

The boy stared at you for a moment. “You have an awful way of making people feel welcomed.”

"I'm glad," you smiled and cocked your head to the side. He sighed.

"Wouldn't I get ugly stares nonetheless?"

"Yes, probably, but in that case I'll be there, and I'll guarantee for you."

"I'll send you an owl next time I'll face trial in front of the Wizengamot."

You turned your head away with a dampened smile.

There were a few new houses around the village and fewer shops than in his time, at least on the main street.

"I assume the school has been lending you its supplies in the past two weeks?" You asked.

"It has, but McGonagall has advised me to buy my own earliest opportunity."

"Well, seems like an opportunity to me," you grinned up at him. "Come on, let's indulge in some calm before the storm."

He gave a low chuckle.

The two of you walked through the town, stopping every once in a while to greet other students or shop for supplies. He had a limited budget — he didn’t have his own money after all — and made sure to pay extra attention to the prices.

You didn't comment on it for which he was glad.

"Are those the infamous Weasley twins?" Sebastian asked when a tall, red-haired boy sent you a wave from the entrance of Zonko's Joke Shop.

"That's Fred, the other is George. Infamous, huh?" You waved back.

So they were the Fred and George you had mentioned.

After a last stop at J. Pippin's Potions, you suddenly turned towards him.

"It's time, I believe."

He felt the hairs stand on his neck and nodded, following you to a side street, towards a small, scruffy Inn with the picture of a severed boar’s head over its entrance sign.

“That looks cosy,” you muttered and pushed the door open.

Now he could understand the fuss about that Gryffindor boldness, because he would have happily hesitated outside a bit more.

Sebastian followed suit, stepping on the soft ground of the pub. He frowned slightly and looked down, confused as to why one would deprive himself of the privilege of a stone floor.

It turned out the only privilege the owner deprived himself of was hygiene.

“This place hasn’t been cleaned in centuries, has it?” He asked, kicking the dirt with the point of his shoes.

“Adds to the aesthetic I suppose.” You chuckled, handing him a dusty, dirty bottle of Butterbeer.

He frowned. “No glass?”

“Oh I don’t think you want a glass,” you sent a glance to the dirty rug resting in the transparent cups on the counter, “might as well chug from the bottle like real cool drunks.”

You cleaned the top with your sleeve and brought it between your teeth, cracking it open. He did the same.

“If only it were alcoholic.”

“Everything can be alcoholic if you bring extra aid.”

He chuckled, and then reached for his pocket. “How much do I owe you?”

“Just be quiet and let me do the talking. That’s my prize,” you whispered, sending a glance to the trio sitting at the far end of the bar, hidden behind the wall at the entrance which was mercifully still shielding you two from your ugly fate.

“Here goes nothing,” and you stepped forward, letting the three Gryffindors see you. Sebastian followed right after.

And while the trio seemed happy to see you, their expressions quickly changed upon landing eyes on the Slytherin boy. They sent you a look of disappointment and confusion that sent chills down his spine.

“Before you say a word,” you began, placing the dusty bottle on the table, “let me explain.”

“It was supposed to be private,” Hermione said between gritted teeth.

“No,” you interjected, now getting worked up. “You said it was open to anyone who wanted to learn, and he —” you pointed at the boy behind you, who would have most surely liked to be swallowed by the filthy ground under him, “— wants to learn.”

He gave them a tight-lipped smile, mustering as much poise and politeness as he could.

“But he… he’s —”

“He’s what?” You cocked an eyebrow daringly. “A Slytherin? Who gives a damn.”

Sebastian flinched at your harshness, but his chest warmed up nonetheless… and no, it wasn’t because of the Butterbeer. Hermione seemed to deflate in her seat, gasping once or twice before finally yielding.

“Fine… I— I suppose if you trust him…”

“I do.” You interrupted, and scooted closer to him for good measure. He couldn't have stopped his face from flushing even if he wanted to.

Harry and Ron only glanced at each other with wide eyes and buried their attention in the bottle in their hands.

"Well, that was easy enough," Sebastian whispered to you once you sat down, making sure the trio wouldn't be able to hear his words.

"Shut up. My heart's beating in my face," you sighed slowly, taking place next to him and downing half of your bottle in one go. He suppressed a chuckle, and you nudged his arm with your elbow in protest.

"You have Butterbeer on your lips," he observed, his lips stretched into a smirk.

Your eyes widened and you quickly wiped it away with the sleeve of your robes, a light blush on your cheeks. "If you breathe so much as a word..."

"You missed a spot," he taunted you further, grabbing a napkin from the table and leaning in to clean it for you, but you flinched away from it.

"I'm not putting that thing anywhere near my mouth." — you attempted to do it yourself, using your robes again — "There are probably traces of Spattergroit from the eighteen hundreds."

He rolled his eyes and tossed it back on the table. "Fair enough, although the eighteen hundreds aren't as far back as you think." He pushed his sleeve down to cover his palm, keeping it in place with his thumb, and gently brought it to your lips, holding your chin in place with his other hand.

You stared at him as he cleaned your lips. If he weren't so gentle in the way his fingers pressed on your jaw, and the way the fabric only lightly caressed your skin, you wouldn't have felt your breath hitch as it did. And your heart would probably be doing its own job properly instead of missing so many damn beats.

His eyes were tender as he examined your face, fleeting over your skin to find any drop he might have missed. "We wouldn't want you to make a bad impression at such an important meeting."

"Oh, shut up," you averted your eyes, feeling your cheeks burn at his words, and his gaze finally met yours. His eyebrows lifted slightly, and you felt a twinge of guilt at your harsh words. "Thank you."

Your voice was breathless and shaky, and you cursed yourself internally for it. Sebastian only suppressed a smirk as he let his eyes linger on your lips for a second more.

"You're welcome."

Much to his dismay, his eyes inadvertently shot to the trio next to the two of you, who had been watching it all unfold with wide eyes, looking between you and Sebastian like they had missed a crucial Charms lesson right before their O.W.L.s.

You cleared your throat and moved away from the boy, your finger tapping nervously on the bottle in your hands, and he let go of his sleeve, smoothing the wrinkles caused by his grip.

-

After some small talk, Sebastian heard the door opening and a crowd of people trooped into the pub. He noticed a bunch of Ravenclaw girls, followed by a group of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. No Slytherins came at the rear, much to his disappointment. Maybe he should have invited Daphne, after all.

One of the first people to enter, though, was Dean, and Sebastian immediately noticed the way your eyes seemed to light up at his sight. He took another swig and averted his eyes.

“A couple of people?” said Harry, his green eyes looking even wider behind his glasses as he stared at Hermione in bewilderment. “A couple of people?”

“Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular. Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?”

The red-head grunted and stood up. Sebastian had half a mind to help, but he couldn’t risk losing his seat next to you to Dean Thomas, so he stayed put.

One of the twins approached the counter with long strides and a charming smile. “Could we have —” he stopped to count his companions “— twenty-five Butterbeers, please?”

Poor barman, Sebastian thought as his eyes were lazily set on the man getting down and back up behind the counter twenty-five times.

“Cheers!” Said twin began handing them out. “Cough up, everyone, I haven’t got enough gold for all of these.”

The Slytherin boy watched in contemplation as the students began searching in their bags and purses for Sickles, and at the same time ignored the dirty and confused stares sent his way all the same.

“What have you been telling people?” he heard Harry whisper to Hermione urgently. “What are they expecting?”

“I’ve told you, they just want to hear what you’ve got to say. You don’t have to do anything yet, I’ll speak to them first.” She replied nervously.

After a few greetings here and there, the students finally sat down (there was an abnormally large distance between Sebastian’s seat and the Ravenclaw girl next to him, who seemed to eye him like he was a leper). Hermione took a deep breath and began to speak.

“Well — er — hi,” she gulped loudly. “Well… erm…. Well, you know why you’re here. W—Well, Harry here had the idea…” Said boy shot her an ugly glance and her voice became even more nervous as she backtracked on her words. “I mean… I had the idea that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts…. a-and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us, because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts—”

“Hear, hear,” a Hufflepuff boy interrupted the girl and she seemed to shrink onto herself.

“Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands… And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the real spells—” 

“You want to pass your Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?” said a Ravenclaw boy, quirking up an eyebrow.

“Of course I do,” Hermione replied indignantly. “But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because… because...”

Sebastian looked at her, his interest piqued when he saw your hands nervously crumple with each other under the table.

“Because Lord Voldemort’s back.”

There was an immediate reaction that made Sebastian frown, bemused. Some students shrieked, others spilled their drinks on themselves, others shuddered and murmured, afraid.

How could a name possibly incite such a response?

“Where’s the proof You-Know-Who’s back?” a blond Hufflepuff boy asked rather harshly.

“Well, Dumbledore believes it—”

“You mean, Dumbledore believes him,” he shot Harry a glance.

“Who are you?” Ron intruded defensively.

“Zacharias Smith, and I think we’ve got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who’s back.”

Hermione sighed and lowered her voice to a calm tone. “Look, that’s really not what this meeting was supposed to be about—”

“It’s okay, Hermione,” said Harry, his voice more alive than Sebastian had ever heard it. If a voice could drip venom, the Slytherin was sure there would be a puddle on the floor already.

“What makes me say You-Know-Who’s back? I saw him.” the black-haired boy said, staring straight at Zacharias Smith with unwavering eyes. “But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn’t believe him, you don’t believe me, and I’m not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone.”

Sebastian could see the tough facade begin to slip from the Hufflepuff’s face.

“All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory’s body back to Hogwarts. He didn’t give us details, he didn’t tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we’d all like to know —”

“If you’ve come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can’t help you. I don’t want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that’s what you’re here for, you might as well clear out.”

Sebastian faltered at his words and looked at you, hoping to meet your gaze. Something that could at least ease the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. But you didn't indulge him, your eyes trained on your friend, your hands clung to each other in your lap.

“So,” Hermione began again, her voice even more nervous after Harry sent a piercing, angry gaze towards her. “Like I was saying… if you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we’re going to do it, how often we’re going to meet, and where we’re going to —”

“Is it true that you can produce a Patronus?” A girl with long hair interrupted, aloof to Hermione's words, and looked at Harry, who confirmed it, still not lowering his guard. “A corporeal Patronus?”

Sebastian stared at Harry with curiosity as the girl introduced herself as Susan Bones. Producing a Corporeal Patronus in your fifth year was nothing short of impressive.

"You make a stag Patronus?”

“Yes,” said Harry.

“Blimey, Harry! I never knew that!” A Gryffindor boy grinned at him.

One of the twins chuckled. “Mum told Ron not to spread it around. She said you got enough attention as it was.”

“She’s not wrong….”

“And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore’s office?” asked a Ravenclaw rather excitedly. “That’s what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year…”

“Er — yeah, I did, yeah,” said Harry.

There was a murmur of surprise and approval, some whistles and "wow"s reaching Sebastian's ears. But he ignored them. His eyes widened as he looked at the boy, and then at you as if expecting you to turn around and tell him this was all a prank, or that people were just making up rumours as Hogwarts students tended to do.

But your face was hard as stone, your posture straight and unwavering as you looked at your friend proudly.

“And in our first year,” another Gryffindor — who Sebastian had heard being called Neville — added, excited to have something to include in the conversation, “he saved that Philological Stone —”

“Philosopher’s,” Hermione corrected.

“Yes, that, from You-Know-Who.”

“And that’s not to mention all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year — getting past Dragons and Merpeople and Acromantulas and things…” added a Ravenclaw girl with long black hair, sending Harry a soft glance.

Sebastian's hands trembled around the bottle as he spaced out looking at the dirty floor. Dragons… Acromantulas… all thpse seemed a bit too familiar for his comfort. He shot you a glance again, hoping you'd turn around that time and tell him that it was no big deal. That you could do more. That you could do more with him .

He didn't know if he was more shocked at the fact that Harry — a simple wizard with no Ancient Magic — could accomplish all of this on his own or the fact that you — her direct descendant — hadn't.

“Look, I…” Harry sighed, interrupting Sebastian's train of thoughts. “I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to be modest or anything, but I had a lot of help with all that stuff.”

“Not with the dragon, you didn’t,” the Ravenclaw boy sitting next to Ron’s sister spoke again. “That was a seriously cool bit of flying….”

“Yeah, well—”

“And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer,” said Susan Bones.

Dementors as well?

“No, no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I’m trying to make is —”

“Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?” said Zacharias Smith.

“Here’s an idea, why don’t you shut your mouth?” Ron said rudely, looking as if wanting to punch said boy right in the nose.

“Well, we’ve all turned up to learn from him, and now he’s telling us he can’t really do any of it,” Zacharias blushed.

Both the twins stepped in, taking out a large metal instrument they had bought from Zonko’s Joke Shop and branding it threateningly.

“That’s not what he said”

“Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?”

“Or any part of your body, really, we’re not fussy where we stick this.”

“Yes, well, moving on…” Hermione sighed tiredly, “the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?”

A murmur broke through the pub, but overall, everyone seemed to be in favour. And here went all of Sebastian's plans. He wondered how suited Harry was for this. Sure, he had accomplished a lot, but… how much did he really know? How many spells could he actually teach him? How many spells could he teach you?

And for the first time, he felt a pang of jealousy that wasn't directed towards Dean Thomas.

“Right." Hermione continued. "Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don’t think there’s any point in meeting less than once a week—”

“Hang on, we need to make sure this doesn’t clash with our Quidditch practice.” A tall Gryffindor girl interrupted solemnly.

“No, nor with ours.” Said the Ravenclaw girl.

“Nor ours,” added Zacharias Smith proudly.

Hermione seemed to refrain herself from rolling her eyes. “I’m sure we can find a night that suits everyone, but you know, this is rather important, we’re talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort’s Death Eaters—”

“Well said! Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we’ll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up!” Another Hufflepuff chimed in cheerfully, looking around his companions as if inciting a crowd. “I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. Obviously they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who , but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells —”

“We think the reason Umbridge doesn’t want us trained in Defence Against the Dark Arts is that she’s got some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he’d mobilise us against the Ministry.” Hermione explained.

Sebastian took another swig of his Butterbeer. Not only was Umbridge useless, she was also completely daft.

After some more discussion — and an argument initiated by a blonde Ravenclaw girl with big blue eyes about Heliopaths, a Ministry army and Spirits of fire Sebastian couldn’t care less about, they finally got to talk about where to meet.

“Hem, hem,” it was Ron’s sister who interrupted the argument, coughing in a perfect imitation of Umbridge that made Sebastian snort. “Weren’t we trying to decide how often we’re going to meet and get Defense lessons?”

“Yes  we were, you’re right. Well, the other thing to decide is where we’re going to meet...” Hermione sighed.

A few students began suggesting different places.

“Library?”

“I can’t see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library,” said Harry.

“Maybe an unused classroom?” said Dean, and your eyes shot to him immediately. Sebastian hid his scowl behind the bottle top.

“Yeah, McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practising for the Triwizard…” Ron said thoughtfully.

You sent Sebastian a side glance and he panicked, his heart skipping several beats. Were you about to suggest what he thought you were about to suggest?

He sent you a pleading look back, but you had already looked away from him and he braced for the worst. But you didn’t speak.

“Right, well, we’ll try to find somewhere. We’ll send a message round to everybody when we’ve got a time and a place for the first meeting.” Hermione said, taking a parchment and a quill from her bag. “I-I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here.”

There was some resistance from the students: many of them didn’t look too happy to put their name on a list that everyone could read (the Hufflepuff, for once, was pretty quick to backtrack on his statement), especially with something as delicate as this, given the circumstances.

The twins were the first to sign, and then you yourself took the parchment and wrote your name without hesitation. After that, the students seemed more and more convinced and lined up in front of the parchment. After everyone had finished, Sebastian had a strange feeling rising inside him, as if he had signed a contract he couldn't get out of. It worried him and he looked up suspiciously at Hermione and then down at you, who didn't seem fazed at all.

It wasn't long before the crowd began to disperse, and you too decided to leave the filthy inn and say goodbye to the trio. Sebastian followed you outside.

"For a moment I thought you were going to suggest the Undercroft as a place..." He chuckled gauzily.

"For a moment I thought so too," you replied, lost in thought.

His breath caught.

"S-So, is all that true? What they said - what Harry did?"

"Yes, of course," you turned to him, puzzled by his question about your friend's achievements. “You had never heard of him?”

Yet another mistake he had made: the lack of thorough research into his contemporary environment.

"Let us say that I ... never indulge in gossip."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Of course..."

"But I noticed the scar," he added, hoping you would tell him more.

You shrugged and turned back around. "Who hasn't?"

"Very peculiar shape."

"Yeah well, it's only one of the most powerful curses there is. Nothing too big." You retorted sarcastically.

He felt a cold wave wash over him as he confirmed his suspicions.

"The- The Killing Curse."

"The boy who lived."

His heart stopped in his chest.

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