#in the words of mary. he is such a loser

[yangjeongin]

HYUNJIN BIRTHDAY COUNTDOWN (2024): hyunjin in every letter... ↘ D-10 | UNFORTUNATE EVENTS

[lasats-are-lovely]

Eugh, can all the boring people complaining about having to watch rebels to understand Ashoka in the Star Wars rebels tag pls fling themselves into the sun?

[gyuuberryy]

love potions (but make it legal)!

pairing: tutor!jungwon x reader

summary: you had not been too excited about these tutoring sessions your potions professor had dropped on you. but, after meeting your tutor you couldn’t hope but think you both were brewing more than just potions, perhaps even love?

genre: hogwarts au, jungwon is a loser for the reader, initially slightly one sided pining, fluff, angst

warnings: some hogwarts lore references, mentions of failing a class, jealousy, angst, magic stuff, kissing, suggestive(ish)

note: they don’t actually make love potions in this but i liked the sound of it so i used it in the title hehe. i hope you guys enjoy this fic as you had given so much love to the heeseung one.

word count: 4.3kish

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

to the anon who requested a jungwon hogwarts au im sososoo sorry for publishing this like six months later. i had a terrible writer’s block with this one. i’m terribly sorry, this constantly ran through my mind but i couldn’t bring myself to begin. i hope you like this!

you were so screwed.

you felt like a deflated balloon looking at your mock NEWT results. you were literally failing your potions class. with all the time spent in balancing out your classes, quidditch and sessions at the room of requirement as a part of dumbledore’s army, you had not practised well enough for your classes that were practical based. 

seeing your grades drop from exemplary results to having mediocre grades and failing a class was depressing. so, your potions teacher had made you stay back to have a word with you which is why you stood off to the side. your head hung low in disappointment with yourself. if this continued, it would be hard to apply for an auror’s job, which was your dream. 

you were broken out of your thoughts by the sound of your professor clearing his throat. your head shot up and you looked around to see the room was now empty save for you both. he gestured to the seat next to his table, so you shuffled over.

he looked over the rim of his glasses as he scanned over your report card. you hated the pitiful look that crossed over his face, you were not used to this.

“you are one of my best students, i really wasn’t expecting this from you..”

you grimaced at his words, feeling worse about your situation. great, you were not the only one disappointed by yourself.

your professor must have noticed because his tone immediately became gentle as he gave you a comforting smile. 

“see, the only reason i asked you to stay back was because i know you can do better”, he shuffled through a register seemingly looking for something. “i’m sure you have your reasons as to why your performance went down. i know you can improve again.”

you nodded at his words, already starting to feel better, “yes professor i-”

“which is why i think you should get tutored”, he cut you off.

you froze. tutoring? this was so embarrassing, usually you were the one to provide tutoring to others, and now you have to be the one to receive it? no thank you.

you let out a small chuckle, “i understand professor, but i think i can handle it by myself.”

his brows creased at your words, “i don’t think you have enough time for that, the exams are nearing and you have managed to mess up even the basic things in the exam.”

you sighed at his words, silently accepting your fate because he wasn’t wrong. maybe you should swallow your ego and just get tutored, it was for your own good anyway.

taking a deep breath you put on a fake smile and gritted out, “okay.”

the rush of your mary jane clad feet filled the hallways of hogwarts with clopping sounds. your feet skidded to a stop in front of the library doors and you placed your hand over your chest, trying to catch your breath from the ten minute long run. you were late for your first tutoring session because your evening nap went a little longer than expected. 

brushing out stray hair strands from your face you opened the doors and stepped in, looking around for your tutor. the only person other than you was a boy with raven hair, sitting on a bench completely surrounded by bookshelves. 

you approached him, assuming he was your tutor. 

“uh hey!”, you called out in an unsure manner. “are you my assigned tutor for po-”

“yes”, he cut you off curtly, not even bothering to spare you a glance. “take a seat.”

you frowned in confusion at his cold behaviour and pulled out a chair to sit next to him. he seemed to be shuffling through some papers and organising them. a few seconds went by with him failing to acknowledge your presence. you cleared your throat awkwardly and introduced yourself, trying to get his attention. 

his head immediately shot up as soon as he heard your name, his eyes widening in what you could tell was surprise. confused at his reaction, you just gave him a small smile. he was silent for a while, giving you enough time to take in his features.

bangs fell over the smooth skin of his forehead and he looked at you through glasses which fit perfectly on his face, adding on to his handsome features. you had seen him around a few times as you shared a few classes with him. he was one of the smartest students, loved by all his teachers.

“uh i’m jungwon”, his voice broke through the awkward silence.

you nodded, “hey. i’ve seen you around.”

his lips pulled up into a smile at that as he let out a small laugh nervously. you raised your eyebrows at his sudden shift in demeanour. just a moment ago he didn’t care about your presence and now he was smiling? whatever.

“professor told me you had been facing some problems with potions”, he looked down and tapped his quill on the table. “what can i help you with?”

you explained how you messed up the practical test for your mocks. he listened intently, never breaking eye contact with you which made you a bit nervous. 

you came to an end of your rant but jungwon still maintained eye contact with you, his chin resting on his hand now. 

you cleared your throat, “so..?”

he still seemed to be staring at you, his eyes out of focus as he dreamily smiled at you.

frowning at his odd behaviour, you waved your hand in front of his face which broke him out of his thoughts. his eyes widened momentarily as he shook his head, a small blush spreading across his cheeks.

“are you sick?”

he chuckled nervously, “no no i was just planning out how i could help you”

he picked up a quill and started writing a plan for you in neat handwriting. once he was done, he passed the sheet over to you.

“we’ll follow this for the next two weeks. meet me in the potions class at four tomorrow.”

you gave a once over at what he had written and smiled at him. “will do, thanks jungwon!”

he nodded and started packing up his things. when he was done he looked at you expectantly, “it’s time for dinner, let’s go to the great hall together.”

you smiled and gathered your things as well.

it was the first day of your tutoring and you were early today.

or you thought so.

glancing around the potions classroom, you spotted jungwon already there. he was perched on a stool, arranging vials and flasks on the tables. unlike his usual composed demeanour in class, he seemed flustered, his bangs falling over his forehead as he fumbled with a particularly stubborn stopper.

he looked up as he heard you shuffle in, a relieved smile splitting his face.

"ah, there you are! i was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

"lost?" you repeated, a laugh escaping your lips. "in the potions classroom? hardly."

he chuckled, a nervous undertone to it. "right, of course. so, are you ready to tackle some invisibility potion today?"

you straightened your robes, a determined glint in your eyes. "ready as i'll ever be. though," you added, an unsure lilt in your voice, "considering my track record, maybe 'invisible' isn't the best thing to start off with."

jungwon's hummed, his cheeks flushing. "well, that's why we're practising, isn't it? to avoid another...disappearing act?"

you snorted. "exactly. though, to be fair, the professor did say my failed polyjuice potion was rather impressive in its...uniqueness."

he winced. "right. let's just focus on not achieving sentience with our cauldron this time, alright?"

the rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind of chopping netslime and muttering incantations. jungwon was a patient tutor, though his explanations sometimes devolved into nervous rambling when your eyes met. 

by the end of the session, your potion shimmered a faint, almost-invisible blue. not perfect, but a far cry from your previous disasters. jungwon beamed, his earlier awkwardness replaced by genuine pride.

"see? you're a natural! with a little more practice, you'll be brewing like snape in no time."

you laughed. "snape? now that's a terrifying image."

he chuckled, then cleared his throat, his gaze flickering away. "well, i should probably get going. i have herbology first thing tomorrow."

you nodded, gathering your things. "alright, see you then. and jungwon?"

he stopped at the door, his eyes questioning.

"thanks a lot for doing this. i already feel more confident.”

he smiled at that, making you do the same unconsciously.

the next two weeks flew by in a flurry of potion-making and stolen glances in your sessions, and outside of it whenever you both crossed paths. you had made a new friend and you were grateful for his help. you found yourself approaching the cauldron with newfound determination. your brews were improving steadily, and the playful banter during your sessions only added to the enjoyment.

one particularly chilly evening, you hurried down to the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for your secret DA practice sessions. you entered to find the familiar sight of your fellow students practising disarming spells and dodging jinxes. but amidst the chaos, you spotted an unexpected face – jungwon.

he was facing away from you, expertly deflecting a curse with a flick of his wand. you blinked, momentarily speechless. you never knew jungwon was a part of this! a warmth bloomed in your chest, a mixture of surprise and a strange sense of pride.

"nice one, jungwon!" , you called out, a wide grin on your face. jungwon turned, his eyes meeting yours. a flicker of surprise crossed his features before he broke into a wide grin.

"hey there," he said casually, striding over to you. "didn't expect to see you here."

"me neither," you admitted, a smile playing on your lips. "i guess you're not just a potions prodigy, huh?"

he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "turns out i have a few other hidden talents."

the rest of the evening flew by in a whirlwind of practice. seeing jungwon in this new light – confident, skilled, and fighting for a cause you both believed in – made your heart flutter. he was everything you admired and more.

admire? since when did that happen?

shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts, you got back to practising your charm. although, over the duration of the practise, your mind couldn’t help but wander towards jungwon’s recent behaviour. he had been sweet to you since the beginning, always ready to help out. and the way he blushed around you and quipped with you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe he also felt something? 

as the group started dispersing, you lingered near the room's entrance, feigning the need to adjust your cloak.

"hey," jungwon's voice startled you. he was packing his bag, a casual smile playing on his lips. "didn't head out yet?"

"actually," you began, fiddling with the strap of your bag, "there was something i wanted to ask you about."

his smile widened in invitation. "shoot."

you took a deep breath. "it's about dumbledore's army. we've been working on patronus charms lately, and well, i'm struggling a bit." shame tinged your cheeks. you weren't used to needing help with spells.

jungwon's expression softened with understanding. "a patronus charm, huh? tricky business, that. but hey, i might be able to offer some pointers."

relief washed over you. "really? that would be amazing!"

he gestured towards a secluded corner of the room. "come on, then. let's see what you're working with."

you settled onto the dusty floor, explaining your struggles. you could conjure a faint wisp of silvery light, but it was far from the actual form you needed. jungwon listened intently, occasionally asking clarifying questions.

"okay," he said once you finished, "it seems you've got the basic idea down. the key is focusing on a strong, happy memory. something that evokes a feeling of pure joy and warmth."

he saw your hesitant expression and chuckled. "don't worry, it's not a competition to see who has the most embarrassing childhood memory."

you forced a smile. "no, of course not." but your mind struggled to find that perfect memory.

jungwon seemed to sense your frustration. "close your eyes," he instructed gently. 

"take a deep breath and try to visualise a place that makes you feel truly happy. maybe a familiar place from your childhood, a special time with a friend, anything that brings a smile to your face."

you closed your eyes, following his guidance. images flickered through your mind ��� family picnics, winning a quidditch match, late-night talks with your best friend. but none of them seemed to spark the necessary warmth.

just as you were about to give up, a memory surfaced. a smile bloomed on your face. you opened your eyes and met jungwon's gaze. "i think i have it," you whispered.

he nodded encouragingly. "focus on that feeling. the warmth, the happiness, let it flow through you and into your wand."

you closed your eyes again, picturing the memory that brought you happiness. it was a little hazy as you tried to focus on the touch and sounds from that memory. with a deep breath, you pointed your wand forward and muttered the incantation.

a wisp of silvery light erupted from your wand, growing and solidifying into a shape. it wasn't perfect – the outline of a cat was more suggestion than a form – but it was a patronus. you had finally done it.

a cheer escaped your lips as you realised you had finally done it. you looked at jungwon, your heart brimming with gratitude. "i did it!"

he beamed, genuine pride radiating from him. "see? you're a natural. you just needed a little nudge in the right direction."

his words held a hint of something more, something that sent a shiver down your spine. you wanted to thank him properly, to express just how much his help meant to you. 

"thank you, jungwon," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. you wished, however, that your patronus could solidify into something more impressive, something that truly reflected the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

as if sensing your unspoken desire, jungwon stepped closer. his movements were subtle, almost hesitant. but before you could question it, he reached behind you, his hand gently wrapping around yours, enclosing both your hands and your wand within his hold.

a jolt of electricity shot through you at his touch. the air in the room crackled with a tension you hadn't noticed before. your focus on the patronus wavered momentarily, replaced by a hyper awareness of jungwon's warm torso pressed against your back, his fingers brushing against yours.

his warm breath fanned over your ear as he whispered even though there was no one around to hear you both, “now completely focus on that memory.”

the room seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with unspoken tension. you focused on the memory, it acting as a soothing anchor in the storm brewing inside you. but this time, something was different. the wispy light from your wand pulsed, growing brighter, solidifying. the faint outline of a cat sharpened, taking on a more defined form.

in the heightened focus, you were oblivious to everything except the memory and the warmth radiating from jungwon's hand on yours. the familiar nostalgia from the memory echoed in your mind, a beacon of happiness. with a burst of energy, a fully formed silver cat patronus materialised, leaping and frolicking around the room.

you gasped in awe, forgetting everything else. "it's perfect! it's actually a perfect patronus!" 

you jumped, unknowingly pushing yourself more into jungwon, making him wrap his hands loosely around you as he chuckled lowly. you spun around to share your joy with him.

but as you turned, your breath hitched. you were impossibly close to him, his hand still wrapped around yours, his face mere inches away. his eyes were dark and intense, a mirror of the emotions swirling within you. the air crackled with unspoken desire.

you leaned in, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. he tilted his head ever so slightly, his lips hovering a whisper away from yours. his breath hitched ever so slightly, as you both leaned in, the space between your lips closing with each passing second.

just as your lips were about to meet, jungwon pulled back abruptly. 

he cleared his throat, his hand falling away from yours. "that's... that's amazing," he stammered, his eyes flickering away from yours. "a perfect patronus. you really are something else."

his words held a strange distance, and a knot of unease tightened in your stomach. the electric tension that had thrummed in the air moments ago had dissipated, replaced by an awkward silence. you weren't sure what had happened, but embarrassment washed over you in suffocating waves. the joy of your achievement felt strangely hollow now.

your patronus immediately vanished into thin air, leaving a trail of sparkles behind.

the tension in the room receded as quickly as it had risen, leaving a bewildered silence in its wake. you blinked, confused and slightly disappointed. why did he stop?

"i, uh," he stammered, looking at his shoes, "i think it's getting late. maybe we should call it a night?"

did he regret the near kiss? or was there something else at play? 

you opened your mouth to ask, but the words wouldn't come. the magic of the patronus lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

"yeah," you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper. "it's getting late."

jungwon offered a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before gathering his things and hurrying towards the exit. you watched him go, a myriad of emotions swirling within you.

disappointment gnawed at you like a dementor during your potions class the next day. your potions professor, inspecting your bubbling concoction with a delighted smile, declared it "exactly by the book."

he beamed, announcing, "it appears the extra sessions have paid off! perhaps we can consider them concluded, wouldn't you agree?"

a lump formed in your throat. you glanced at jungwon, expecting a playful jab or a celebratory nod. but he simply shrugged, a noncommittal, ‘sounds good to me,’ escaping his lips.

the professor's words should have filled you with relief. you were back on track, independent once more. yet, as the class ended, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. you caught jungwon's eye for a fleeting moment, hoping for a familiar spark or a shared grin. instead, he averted his gaze, muttering a hurried goodbye and hurried out of the classroom.

this became a pattern over the next few days. in the hallways, where you once exchanged playful jibes, jungwon now seemed to melt into the background whenever you approached. shared classes were endured in a tense silence, his friendly demeanour replaced by a distant politeness. 

you replayed the scene in the room of requirement over and over in your head, desperately trying to pinpoint where you'd gone wrong. 

had you misread the tension? had you moved too fast, startled him with your sudden boldness?

one evening, you found yourself lingering outside the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for dumbledore's army. you weren't sure why you were there, perhaps a desperate hope that jungwon would appear. the door creaked open, and your best friend peeked out.

"lost something?" she asked, her brow quirked in concern.

you shook your head, the words refusing to form.

"everything alright?" she pressed gently, her perceptive eyes searching yours.

you sighed, finally blurting out, "it's jungwon. did i…did i do something wrong?"

her knowing smile softened the blow. "ah," she said, pulling you into a hug. "sometimes, the most powerful potions are brewed in silence, simmering with unspoken emotions."

her words offered little comfort, but they planted a seed in your mind. maybe rushing something as delicate as what you felt for jungwon wasn't the way. maybe patience, like the perfect potion, required time and the right balance of ingredients. you resolved to let things cool, to focus on mastering your spells and potions, hoping that maybe, one day, the right opportunity would present itself, and the spark you shared with jungwon wouldn't need words to reignite.

screw whatever you thought before. you couldn't wait for that ‘one day’ to come as you watched your classmate, a girl with hair like spun sunshine, practically cling to jungwon's arm in herbology. they were bent over, giggling like pixies at a particularly stubborn gillyweed.

fury replaced the embers of hope your friend had ignited. who was this girl? had he moved on that quickly? 

jealousy bubbled in your stomach as you stalked away from the window, hurt settling in your chest. but you were determined to make things right, even if it meant making your friendship(?) with him awkward, you needed to know what went wrong. 

the bell signalling the end of class was your cue. you bolted out, weaving through students, your eyes locked on jungwon. he noticed you coming, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but before he could react, you were upon him.

he was walking with the sunshine-haired girl, lost in their own conversation, until a breathless, "jungwon!" ripped him from it. he turned, eyes widening further when he saw your determined, (slightly crazed) expression.

"uh, hi?" he stammered, glancing between you and the girl who stood blinking at you both, confused.

"excuse me," you said politely through gritted teeth to the girl, who, thankfully, scurried off with a mumbled ‘see you later, jungwon.’

now, alone with the reason of your anger and surging jealousy, you grabbed his arm and steered him away from the castle grounds. you marched him past the greenhouses until you reached a secluded clearing near the black lake. there, with a flourish that would have earned you points in charms class, you pinned him against a sturdy oak tree.

he stared at you, bewildered, as your chest heaved. "okay," he started cautiously, "what's going on?"

"what's going on?" you sputtered, finally finding your voice. "what's going on is, i thought we had...something!" you gestured wildly towards the castle, where you could still see a flicker of sunshine hair disappear around a corner.

jungwon blinked, then a slow blush crept up his neck. "we...we do! we had potions tutoring sessions, remember?"

you threw your hands up in exasperation. "ugh, not tutoring! this…this unspoken thing we have!"

his blush deepened, and he mumbled something inaudible under his breath.

"what?" you demanded.

he took a deep breath. "look, about that night in the room of requirement..."

"yes?" you leaned in, heart pounding.

he cleared his throat. "maybe i… i overreacted. i wasn't sure what you were feeling, and…"

he trailed off, his gaze dropping to the ground. you gaped at him, realising the truth. you hadn't scared him off, he'd scared himself off! 

but there was more. a flicker of insecurity crossed his eyes. "and to be honest," he admitted sheepishly, "the real reason i've been avoiding you… well, it's because i was trying to figure out how to tell you something...something big."

you blinked. here you were, fuming about a nonexistent threat, while jungwon had been battling his own insecurities. the situation was hilarious, almost. but mostly, it was endearing.

a slow smile spread across your face. "well, spill it, jungwon. don't leave me in suspense."

he fumbled with his words, cheeks burning a fiery red. "it's about...well, ever since the beginning of this year, i’ve looked at you…in a different light."

your heart thrummed erratically now, hoping he was getting to where you wanted him to.

"...and, well, you're not just funny and smart, you're kind and brave, and the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, it just makes me..." his voice trailed off, his eyes pleading with yours. 

his rambling was adorable, but the knot of frustration in your stomach tightened with every nervous stammer. you couldn't take it anymore.

grabbing him by the collar, you silenced him with a kiss. it started desperate, fueled by the need to know his true feelings, but as his lips met yours, it melted into something sweeter. you poured your unspoken emotions into that kiss, the frustration, the longing, the dawning hope. 

suddenly, jungwon spun you around, switching your positions so that you were pushed against the tree now. your breath hitched in surprise at his sudden show of confidence. he dove back into the kiss, his soft lips moving against yours in fervour. the intensity of your kiss increased along with your pulse and you were pretty sure jungwon could feel it with the way he was pressed up against you

when he finally pulled back, breathless and dizzy, a different kind of silence hung in the air.

jungwon stared at you as your cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson, mirroring the sunset bleeding across the lake. finally, a smile bloomed on his face, genuine and relieved. 

"see," he breathed, voice husky, "that was much easier than all that."

you laughed, a genuine sound that echoed through the clearing. relief washed over you, warm and tingly. "i should be the one saying that" you teased.

“yeah well i chickened out”, he scratched his head in embarrassment, “i wanted my confession to be perfect.”

you smirked, “yeah well what you pulled right now was very romantic. i didn’t know you had that in you.”

he rolled his eyes playfully and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “you liked it though. let’s head back now, it’s almost time for dinner.”

you smiled as you walked in step with him, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. he squeezed your hand with a cheeky grin on his face.  you returned the squeeze looking up at him in question, when his next words had a blush blooming on your face.

“i hope you’re going to pay me back for those lessons with more of such kisses.”

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[julietsbody]

divine figures — luke castellan + reader : nothing could steer luke off his path to god now, until you came along. 

tags : southern setting au, small town setting, loser!luke, idolization, christian religious references & imagery, religious inconsistencies, church sex, religious guilt, body worship, sex but poetic, cannibalistic imagery…………..

a/n : heavily inspired by the lovely @murdrdocs!! 

luke castellan was never one to follow a religion, well, not at first he wasn’t. he thought it was all bullshit, to put your all into someone nobody is sure even exists, it’s bullshit. but then his mom began insisting that he went, that he needed to find god, they both did, so he went.   

luke lacked a father figure, so when he stared up at the statue perched at the apse of the church, he found the man he always lacked in his life, no matter how much the statue ignored his gaze, never bothering to look his way. he was quick to read the bible like it was a drug he just couldn’t get enough of, he sat straight with his eyes forward during each sermon, he kept himself pure. 

and he stuck true to that, until you came. 

he never really noticed you at first, but you were always there. 

always looking over your shoulder to his place in the pew, always smiling at him when he accidentally glances your way, always passing by his house on your bike on hot summer days in hopes of seeing him outside, shirtless and working on his mother’s car. 

you hadn’t mustered up the proper courage to speak to him, not until your parents have tugged you over to where he stood with his mother in the nave. your mother and father immediately sparked up conversation with his mother, leaving you to awkwardly look around the church in hopes of finding something worthy of speaking of. nothing, there was nothing. so you just mumbled out a, “hey.” 

he hesitates for a second, “hi.” 

“did you like the sermon?” your southern drawl, along with your sugar coated smile, luke can feel the thumping of his heart against his knit sweater. 

“‘course,” he smiles shyly, “i always do— um.. did you?” 

you nod at him, your ability to hold eye contact so well had him feeling nervous, constantly breaking it to glance around the room, “are you excited for easter?”

luke’s lips curve to a brighter smile, one that proves that he hopes that with jesus’ return, there will be a proper savior for him, his prayers will finally be listened to, maybe for once the statue on the wall will glance his way. 

jesus molded everything about luke, at this point, if he couldn’t believe in his father, jesus was going to take that place— and he did, luke was taught everything by the bible, all he ever relied on was the words of the lord, everything he ever did was a representation of what lied in those scriptures. he never worshipped another god, never said the lord’s name in vain, always remembered sabbath day, as well as honored his mother and… father. 

he didn’t commit adultery, in fact, he never spoke to women, really. his mother kept him sheltered, he was only allowed to speak to the women at church, not any of the women who rode on their bikes past his house, or smiled at him in the library. he just stared at them for a minute and looked away, contemplating how different things would be if he was able to speak to them. 

at the thought of women, luke’s mind races back to you, who is currently blinking at him and thinking he didn’t hear you. “i am excited— for easter, will you be at— the um.. the church that day?” 

another nod, then an awkward silence as you find nothing more to say, and neither does he. the church was a beautiful place, decorated with swirls of gold and dark wood, colorful stained glass windows that painted pictures of jesus, or virgin mary. if luke could move out of his home and live somewhere he genuinely enjoyed, it would be the church. 

there was something so comforting about it, maybe the faint music that played in the background, or the way it smelled of old books and floral perfumes, or the fact that it was just a place where so many people went to put their faith into someone. god was just so important, if luke didn’t know any better, he’d envy him. 

“you should come on sabbath days,” you interject his thoughts, leaning in to his vision. 

he blinks, eyes refocusing on your face, and he awkwardly chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “i thought they were for relaxation?” 

“and worship,” you correct, and he crystalizes the memory of how each word sounds on your tongue, how it flows out so well, how it makes him swallow. 

“right, right,” he wets his lips nervously, “i’ll just— ask my mom. mama?” 

as soon as he asks his mom, she’s all smiles at him, nodding and even shaking your hand, thanking you for urging him to go to church more. 

“i’ll see you there,” is the last thing you say to luke that day. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

luke would be a liar to say he wasn’t riddled with visions of you in the darkest parts of the night, they started from the day you first spoke to him, and never left him since. he hated how much it plagued him, because it tempted him so well. it was like you were eve, offering him, adam, the apple. you reassure him that it’s sweet, that there’s no harm in taking a bite, and luke is parting his lips, ready to taste it, when he finally wakes up. 

the heat of the room is beating down on him, even in the cool of the night. his skin is sticky from sweat, and all he can ever think about is you. it should be a crime, really, how much you had consumed his every waking thought. for once, he wasn’t thinking of the bible verses he would be reading that day, what prayer he would be saying. 

luke didn’t know one thing about women, but the way you spoke to him, the way you smiled at him, the glints in your eyes, it had him wondering how he could make your face twist up in pleasure— fuck. he shouldn’t be thinking like this, it’s unholy, it’s weird, but he’s already in too deep. 

he’s already fed the memory of how pink your lips are, how soft they look, they probably feel the same. is it a sin to wonder how well you kiss? would you be all - consuming? or slow, sweet? luke doesn’t know why he prefers if you’d be hungry, if you’d bite and nip at him like you’re hungry, like he’s the last supper. 

his boxers feel tight on his skin, dick twitching in the confines of them. luke hardly knows this feeling well, he wasn’t one to allow himself to get hard, nor was he one to properly take care of it. but something about the idea of your teeth clashing against his when you kiss him, pushing your tongue into his mouth to taste him properly— it had his fingers pushing underneath the waistband of his underwear. 

when his fingertips graze his cock, he immediately shudders, lashes fluttering. every time luke touched himself, it felt like the first time, only now it felt.. better. better because he was thinking of you. luke had never watched porn, he hardly knows what it is, so the idea of what sex would be like is.. a gray area for him. 

but he works with what his mind is capable of, which is dry humping. the first setting that comes to mind is the church, which leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, but he goes with it. it comes to vividly, you on his lap, wet patch evident on his jeans from where your hips push down, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. when you moan, he does, when you whimper, he does, when you roll your hips, he does. 

everything was in sync, and it was all so sinful. masturbation itself wasn’t a sin, unless you thought of someone, and for the longest time, luke never thought of anyone, but you were a parasite he couldn’t shake, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to. 

luke wonders how much the priest will judge him when he utters these thoughts, these events in the confessional tomorrow. he has only ever uttered small, pitiful confessions, i didn’t help my mom with dinner, i turned in a book to the library late, i forgot to pray. he’s never had to confess anything larger. 

heat bubbles in luke’s stomach, it’s pleasant, sweet, but it curls, and curls until it’s suffocating, until his wrist is hurting from the fast pumps of his cock, sweat glistening on his skin, cheeks flushed. he can feel a whine scratching up his throat, in the confines of his mind, something is screaming at him, telling him to stop, but it’s too late, he can barely hear it over the blood pumping in his ears. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

when luke comes into the church the next day, it’s a saturday, a sabbath day. typically on these days, he would be spending his time lounging around his house, reading some piece of classical literature that he has hidden from his mother, wishing to keep the inked pictures of statues reeking of desire for one another a secret. 

but he was here, and so, he prayed. 

the sun had barely risen over the horizon (courtesy of daylight savings), yet the candles in the church were lit, leaving an orange hue to project around the empty room. 

luke felt gross, corrupt, unholy. 

for once, luke feels as though the statue above is glaring down on him, and he tries his best to not shrink into himself under the piercing gaze. he knows. his mouth is dry with each prayer, fingers sweaty around the rosary, but he wouldn’t allow himself to falter once more. 

as soon as he starts his fifth prayer, he hears the creak of the floorboards that he knows all too well, eyes fluttering open so he can look back to see who was there, hoping they hadn’t heard his last confessions in his prayers. 

you. his mind is tugged to a halt, every prayer he had rehearsed on his way to the church, completely forgotten. it was all just.. you. you seared on his skin, burned him until he was nothing but smoke. your gaze softens on him, a stark contrast to jesus’ pointed glares, “i didn’t think you’d come.” 

his voice is coarse from the nonstop prayers, “of course i would.” 

all he can think about is you underneath him, his own skin bitten and scratched, decorated in mulberry and deep pinks, he’s practically salivating at the idea. he wonders if, behind the confines of the church walls, would anyone hear you? would the priests dare to look for whoever is letting out such unholy noises? 

luke feels frozen the second he comes back to reality, dick hardening underneath the fabric beyond his control, his mind is tearing itself apart before he can even realize you’re speaking to him. 

“— wondering if you’d like to sit next to me tomorrow,” you pose, seemingly unaware of the bulge in luke’s pants that he is desperately trying to naturally cover with his hands. but you knew, you knew the effect you had on him, and he had the same effect on you. 

is it so cruel to only tease him harder? 

luke swallows the remaining saliva in his drying mouth, quickly moving to a stand, rosary bringing more attention to his covered crotch, “sure, yes— um.. i need to— go.” 

before you can even say anything, he is pushing past you, hand moving only to chastly grab your waist for a mere second as he passes, an instinct of trying to keep you stable, but it only makes a heat between your legs grow. 

desires go both ways, and it’s only a matter of time before they snap. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

easter was once luke’s most anticipated day of the year, but now it was the day of his nightmares. he barely slept last night, kept himself awake with chores, prayers, and reading the bible until it made him sick. he couldn’t have another dream, he couldn’t let you get to him anymore. he thought it would be easy to avoid you today, but he was cursed with his own mistakes as you sat down next to him in the pew. 

the worst part wasn’t that you sat down next to it, it’s that his mind was riddled with disgusting thoughts as soon as he saw how your dress brushed up your thighs, it was so simple, such a small act, but it just made him think the worst possible things. 

you bent over the pew, the bottom of your dress tugged up to show your panties, his hands are gripping your hips like his life depends on it, crotch pressed to your clothed pussy from behind. 

luke blinks back with his cheeks hot, noticing the bible in your hands. when he speaks, he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying, it’s like he’s possessed, “what verse are you reading?” 

“luke 22:40,” you say it so simply, a smile barely teasing your lips. 

on reaching the place, 

he said to them, “pray that you 

will not fall into temptation.” 

the saliva on luke’s tongue is sour, near poisonous, his lips were stained maroon from the skin of the apple. luke 22:40 was the exact line he had been reciting to himself, luke was his name. the serpent was squeezing him tight, his breath felt swiped away from his lungs. 

luke is quiet for the rest of the evening, even through the sermon, when he should be smiling when everyone else is, clapping when everyone else is— he is just silent, blank - faced. 

you can’t decipher what he’s feeling until everyone has gone off to eat after the sermon, and he’s tugging you back into the pew once it’s vacant, fingers forming a tight grip around your wrist, “why are you doing this?” 

he’s out of breath, and no matter how tough he tries to seem, he sounds pathetic, his voice a near whimper, like he’s pleading with you. 

“doing what?” you blink up at him, doe eyes making his teeth press together. 

“you’re tempting me— this, this isn’t fair, why?” his breath is shaky when he exhales. 

“i’m not doing anything, luke.” 

“you’re making me think— making me imagine things.. sinful things.” 

“what exactly are you thinking?” your voice is softer, and the heat of the sun is seeping into the church. 

“i..” how can he explain himself? every image that he wants to communicate is all too disgusting, a mixture of hunger and desire, it seemed luke wanted you to eat him alive, “you know what i’m thinking.” 

“why don’t you show it to me?” 

absolution; 

formal release from guilt, 

obligation, or punishment. 

or.. 

an ecclesiastical declaration

of forgiveness of sins.

morals trickle down luke’s back when he kisses you, he knows it’s all wrong, he knows he could just leave it at a kiss, but he didn’t want to be haunted with these visions any longer, maybe if he made them a reality, they would just leave. he could be himself again, the picture - perfect religious boy he was always supposed to be. the kiss is small at first, the hesitant movement of lips, the adjusting to the feeling, but it quickly grows into something hungry. 

luke didn’t know how to properly kiss, so he just followed your lead, and soon enough, he was kissing you like a starving man. from tongues clashing, to his hand mindlessly moving to your hip, body pressing against yours, it was everything he saw in the pictures printed in those books he read. 

when luke falls back into his seat on the pew, you had pulled away from him, admiring how flushed his lips are. when your hand meets his jaw, luke forgets who his god is supposed to be, all he can think about is you, even on the day dedicated to the man he has spent all of his life worshiping. 

“please,” it’s barely even audible, only made out by the slight flick of his tongue from the l. 

“tell me what you want.” 

it felt like luke was sitting in the confessional, admitting all of his nastiest desires when his lips part, finally being able to say his thoughts out loud, “can you— ride me? or.. if you don’t want to— that’s okay.” does luke know what riding is? only from the overheard gossip of other men, but he was told it was something he had to try, when he got married, of course. 

“i want to,” it’s as if you aren’t in a church, as if nobody could just walk in and see how you’re moving onto his lap, moving his hands to your ass, letting his desperate fingers tug your dress up. his purity bracelet brushes against your skin when you move to guide his hands to your ass, watching the nervous look in his eyes when he squeezes the flesh. 

he has no idea what he’s doing, he just wants to please you, to make you feel as good as he made himself feel to the idea of you the other night. maybe, at this point, luke isn’t praying to jesus, maybe he never was, because you were always in the back of his mind. no matter how guilty it made him feel, how many times he had squeezed his tear - ridden eyes shut and wished he was different, wished he wasn’t so easy to fall for temptation. 

god is watching, is what his mind tells him, but your eyes tell him to keep going, watching as he moves his hands to unbuckle his belt, the sound of metal clinging being so improper for the walls ridden with crosses, but it just felt so right. he sucks in a sharp breath when he pulls out his dick, the cool air searing his delicate skin, pupils blown wide when they watch your lips slightly part at the sight. 

 “you’re so big,” is all you can manage out. 

luke’s lips twitch around a small smile, “is that a good thing?” 

“if it fits,” you move through a few twists to properly take your panties off, letting them hang off your ankle when you reposition yourself to have your entrance pressing against the tip of his dick, “then yes.” 

luke’s lips press together as soon as you start sinking down on him, you’re so slow with it it’s almost torturous. the holy water he had dipped his water in and pressed to his skin, was now scorching him with each inch that filled your velvet walls. when you reached the hilt, it was safe to say you felt stuffed, and luke was making more noise than you. 

whimpers, grunts, he tried to hide them all behind the confines of his lips, but they dug their nails into his throat and crawled their way up until it was impossible for him to hold them back. as soon as you began moving, luke was purely fighting for his life against the own noises leaving him to the point of where he had to sit up, pressing his lips to your neck, he was quick to press his lips against the sensitive areas, biting, sucking— he wasn’t even sure if he was doing it properly, but he was just so desperate. 

he wanted you to shatter him like fine porcelain, to snap off his glass parts and crush them underneath your fingers with pure ease, to deconstruct every inch of him that he had taken years to build. no matter how empty he would feel in the end, to put himself in your hands, like a lump of clay in the hands of a goddess, he trusted your instincts. 

“i want you to ruin me,” he mumbles against the flesh of your neck, barely audible. 

“what?” your voice is breathless between moans, walls tightening around his dick with each movement of your hips. 

he whimpers out a simple, “sorry.” 

you didn’t forget his words, though, in fact, you let your fingers run through his dark curls, tangling through them until you tugged him back from your neck, just so you can take his place, now the one pressing your lips to his neck. he felt small underneath you, but he didn’t hate it, he liked the way that your lips felt on his skin, enough for him to lean his head back to provide you more blank canvas. 

you painted him in maroons and mulberries, blooming rose petals on his skin, marking him as your own. no matter how much luke knew he would be praying for forgiveness tonight, in this moment, everything he’s ever stood for has fallen off his broad shoulders. his hair is messy and sticking to his sweaty forehead, skin peppered with bite marks, deep reds, purples, every color in between and beyond.

“‘m gonna—“ luke’s words come out choked, dick pulsing inside of you, “gonna cum—“ 

luke’s orgasm hits him hard enough to have tears pooling into his eyes, maybe it was the guilt, or the everlasting pleasure, he wasn’t entirely sure, how could he even be? all he could think of was you, now. 

“do you still believe in god?” you offer him once you’re off him and he’s putting his belt back on. 

he stares at you for a second, hesitating, then his lips part, “yes.” 

[moonstruckme]

Remus is the type to keep a rubberband or a scrunchie on his wrist for his s/o

I believe that he started keeping it when sirius's hair got long in 4th year and he used to forget a hair tie everywhere.

When remus started dating reader he began keeping one particularly in their favorite colour but never let anyone know.

I can just imagine reader at a house party going around asking each girl for a rubberband cuz she forgot hers and he just pulls one out of nowhere and hands it to them wordlessly (or just holds his wrist in front of them and their eyes light up)

Would be awesome if you write smth abt this <3

Thanks for requesting :)

cw: alcohol, reader has hair long enough to tie back

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 560 words

Remus’ eyes track you as you ping-pong around the party, stopping to talk to people for only a handful of seconds before finding another target. He’s not trying to be a creep, but you’ve reached a stage of the night where a bit of supervision is necessary. Your eyes are alight and your smile comes easy, and when you pivot and a bit of punch sloshes onto your hand you don’t even notice. 

You go from Lily, to Sirius, to Marlene, to Alice, back to Lily, and then aim for the kitchen. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” Remus intercepts you, setting a hand on your shoulder and steering you discretely away from any potential refills. “Having a good time?” 

“Mhm.” You grin up at him, distracted by the movement of his hand up your shoulder to cup the side of your neck. You shrug and tilt your head, squishing his hand between them, and Remus indulges you by poking your dimple with his thumb. You giggle, delighted. “I’m looking for Mary. Have you seen her?” 

He thinks for a moment. “Not lately, no. Want help looking?” 

“Sure.” You catch at his other hand with both of yours, intertwining your fingers messily. “I just need to ask her something.”

“What’s that?” he asks as you start to tug him towards the kitchen. 

“I’m sick of my hair.” You blow a piece of it away from your face, vexation twinging in your features. “I wanna know if she has a hair tie I can borrow.” 

“Oh, wait.” He stops, pulling you closer before taking his hand from between yours. “Hold on a second.” 

You look up at Remus curiously, not protesting when he turns you around by your shoulders and begins gathering your hair in his hands. He takes care to comb the errant strands around your face and the nape of your neck up with the rest, confining it all to a loose ponytail. 

“S’that alright?” 

“I didn’t know you carry a hair tie,” you murmur, almost to yourself, as you go towards a small mirror mounted on the wall. “Remus!” Your voice goes up an octave, elated. “It’s my favorite color!” 

“I know,” he says, a bit smug. It only worsens when you spin around and throw your arms around his waist. Remus hums contentedly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and you tilt your head back, chin digging into his sternum as you beam up at him. 

“You’re so good to me,” you gloat. “How long’ve you been carrying that around for?” 

“A while,” he says vaguely, because Since you told me your favorite color makes him sound like a loser and in your current state he’s not entirely sure you wouldn't start crying. “I’m used to having one for Sirius anyway, so it was really just a color adjustment.” 

Your eyes go all soft and smitten, your bottom lip jutting out a bit even through your smile. “You’re the sweetest boy I ever met,” you tell him, sincerity coating your words like honey. 

Remus rolls his eyes to dodge the compliment, opting instead to take your face between his hands and squishing your cheeks together. You let him without complaint, your smile going mushy. “You make me do sweet things,” he says. 

You hum like you know the truth but you’ll let him get away with it anyway.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Talk Too Much

Pairing: Remus Lupin x loud but shy!reader

Cw: college!au, fluff, kind of friends to lovers, obliviousness by Remus for a while, drinking (mentioned), smoking (cigarettes), I think that’s it

Wc: 2.2k

You’re a loudmouth. Through and through. Of all your friends, you honestly think you and James would be the ones to never shut up or run out of words.

That is until Remus transfers into the school and infiltrates your friend group and suddenly you find the words can run out.

It’s not on purpose.

It seems to take you over purely by coincidence- the way your throat gets dry and your tongue seems too heavy to form the words you want to get out when Remus seems to be paying attention to only you. His gaze isn’t unwelcome- that’s the entire problem.

You like the feeling of being what he looks at, but it feels too good, too natural.

His honey eyes that are just lightly flecked with green, and his sharp jawline that’s adorned with silvery scar tissue that somehow makes him even more handsome.

He’s also always got a cigarette to fiddle with.

You’ve only seen him smoke twice, and had been mesmerised by the way his cheeks hollow and how he blows the smoke out and it seems to curl around him like it’s unable to obey his exhales in the opposite direction.

He reminds you in a way of Charlie Dalton and Stephen Meeks.

Fctional characters who Remus seems to emulate in his confidence (from Charlie) and a sort of confidence that’s self-assured yet mild at the same time (a mix of the two) and that in itself makes you fall a little more for him.

It’s overwhelming- this attraction to him. It confuses you and has you tripping over words in your head, far less for if you voiced them and all that was heard were clunky excuses for sentences.

What makes your sudden bouts of silence obvious is the fact that your friends have caught onto you.

It’s not like it’s exceptionally hard to decipher either- you’re not really good at being subtle.

You suspect James and Sirius are taking bets on when it’ll all be too obvious for everyone to walk around it and you desperately hope that it takes months while simultaneously hoping it takes only weeks.

Remus notices the way your body freezes when you realise you’ve caught his attention in your storytelling. In his mind, it’s because you don’t like him.

The way you shrink down and suddenly go silent the moment his eyes set upon you, the way you remain quiet even though he sees the way the corners of your mouth twitch with something to say.

He thinks he’s put you off somehow, especially when the second he’s gone a little ways away to get a drink or get his lunch, you seem to perk right back up and dive into storytelling once more.

It bothers him so much he asks Sirius about it- a mistake in itself, because Sirius only pokes fun at his friend.

“If you can’t realise why she goes silent the moment you stare at her Lupin, I can’t help you.” Sirius walks off leaving Remus even more perplexed, moreso when he hears Sirius says, “How’s he so thick for someone doing so many higher classes?”

It bewilders Remus for weeks, your always sudden vows of silence and then your equally sudden broken vows.

You’re all at a house party when it comes to an almost end.

You’re dressed pretty like always, a skirt that hugs all the places Remus longs to touch and a top that shows a sliver of your stomach and Remus catches a glimpse of jewellery hanging in your navel.

Your ears have a pair of hanging bat earrings, and your necklace is your standard one- he’s sure he’s never seen you without it.

You’re smiling and laughing with Marlene and Mary as you walk in. Remus wants to figure out why you dislike him so, he desperately wants to change your sour opinion of him. He’s going to at least try to do so tonight, if you can stomach looking at him.

“C’mon losers,” James’ loud voice is unmistakable, “We’re playing seven minutes in heaven.”

Remus is only approaching when he hears your teasing,

“Are we taking a blast back to Year 9 Jamie?”

James nods, “Yeah we are, and would you look at that you and Lupin are up first.” You’re sure there’s an evil little grin on James’ face when you look up and find Remus standing there in his soft brown sweater and jeans.

You can smell a little of the cigarette he’d smoked before coming in, but mostly you smell his citrus, pepper and amber cologne.

It’s heady and you swear your brain gets a little drunk on it.

“Get going you two,” Sirius teases and you sigh standing.

Remus’ mind is reeling, wondering how he’s going to get back at Sirius and James and the rest of your friends that he knows are in on this too.

Out of ear shot of your friends as you both go to the nearest room, Remus says lowly, “You don’t have to come in. I’ll just tell them we talked.”

You look up at him, eyes wide and Remus takes your surprise as a moment to admire you up close. He counts three beauty marks near your right eye, another on your neck just under your chin, and one on your nose. He’s distracted by you for a good long while that he doesn’t register you’ve spoken till he sees you walk into the room and gesture for him to follow.

It’s tense, a silence neither of you are sure how to break.

You think Remus is the most gorgeous man to be placed on the Earth, and Remus thinks you find him repulsive.

You watch Remus climb onto the bed, his long legs crossed at the ankles as his back presses against the headboard.

His casualness makes him look even more attractive and while you’re aware that you’re staring at him, you can’t make yourself stop.

‘Now or never,’ he thinks to himself before asking, “Have I offended you somehow?”

There it is, laid open and bare. The question hangs in the air, like the most tantalising yet foreign fruit you’ve ever seen.

“No?” It comes out like a question. One Remus takes as a chance to explain.

“It’s just that you’re always talking or telling a story with the others, and as soon as I’m near earshot you go silent and you can’t meet my eyes. So I’ve been thinking that maybe I’ve offended you, and I just wanted to say sorry for if I did- directly or indirectly.”

Remus’ attractiveness has been upped by a thousand- you’re sure all the love deities are having a laugh at your hopelessness.

You can’t meet his eyes now, even as you sit on the bed, so close to him that your biceps brush each other’s. “You haven’t offended me.”

Your voice is much softer than he’s ever heard it. Remus thinks this must be the softest you’ve ever spoken in your whole life.

“I haven’t?” he asks and you shake your head. Hazarding a glance at him, you find Remus leaning his shoulder down, his chin tucked as his eyes roam your frame.

“N-no,” your stutter gives you away slowly. “You’re just different from the others.” It’s not a clearer explanation, but the gears are turning in Remus’ head all the same and you can tell.

“Different how?” Remus doesn’t want to assume anything and that’s what causes the gears to come to a screeching halt.

You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. Remus has never seen you this unsure. Everything you do is with confidence and ease, like you were just made to walk, talk and move the way that you do. Like it was as easy as breathing.

Maybe it’s the way you take your time to consider your words, or the way you fiddle with your clothes or even the way your breathing changes as he leans just a bit closer that makes Remus smile a little.

“Will you look at me for a second, darling gwerthfawr?” The softness of his tone and the way his accent changes to something a little more melodic makes you more jelly-like than you usually are in his presence.

“Hm?” you hum and Remus smirks. Silvery slithers of scar tissue moving with his mouth and making him look wicked in a way that has you falling a little more in love with him.

“Why don’t you like looking or speaking to me?”

Remus doesn’t let you turn away, doesn’t let you tuck your cheek to your shoulder as you deliberate what you want to say. No, instead, the menace holds your chin and stares at you, holding your gaze and making your brain cloud even more as his cologne and attention wash over you.

“I like looking at you,” you admit shyly, the confession coming from your lips with hesitation. Like Remus will be repulsed by the fact that you like looking at him. “But you make me nervous.”

The words are suspended in the quiet of the room. All there is the muffled sounds of the party going on in the living room, and then yours and Remus’ breathing.

“I make you nervous?”

Sirius and James burst through the door, wide smiles that turn into shocked smirks at your positions.

“Well love birds, sorry but your seven minutes are up.” Remus staggers in letting your chin go, but when his fingers slacken, you leave the room, belly in knots in the almost wordy confession.

“So, how’d that go?” James asks him as you bend the corner- he’s sure that Lily and the other girls will be doing the same with you.

Remus flops on the bed, “Nothing that concerns you two gits.” His mind is racing with possibilities of finishing this conversation.

Sirius boos, “After all that planning to get you two in here and snogging each other’s faces off, that’s the thanks we get?” Walking out with James who’s shaking his head.

-

“But you make me nervous,” repeats in his head for days. He’s not dense by a mile, but Remus has a hard time figuring out what about him makes you nervous.

Sure he’s tall and a little serious, but he’s not as intimidating as he’d first thought Sirius was. Remus doesn’t want to turn to his friends, sure they’d tease him endlessly for being ‘thick,’ and then more than likely tell you and that would just make you even more nervous to look or speak to him at the very least.

What Remus does do, is consult the best person he knows that will give him impartial advice; books.

There’s always a book for any occasion, so he delves deep. Behavioural analysis books, books on people with social anxiety (which he doesn’t think you have because it’s just him that gets the selective mutism) and even at the end of it, he turns to romance novels. Something must stand out.

It comes to a head when Remus comes to the library when you’re busy typing away at your essay. You feel the presence, the warmth of his pepper and amber cologne as he pulls the seat out beside you.

Remus doesn’t say a word as he sits down. Instead, he pulls out his laptop and begins typing at the same essay prompt you’re working on.

You’re hyper aware of everything he’s doing- every breath, every sigh, every harsh backspace and enter.

Remus doesn’t seem to be half as affected as you are and it has you whispering, “What are you doing here, Remus?”

He hums, tapping his forefinger near the touchpad. He finishes his sentence and then turns to you. “Working on that essay due tomorrow.”

You frown, lips pulled downwards as you think of your next words. “You know what I mean, why are you sitting beside me?”

Remus sighs, head hanging off the back of the chair. “I want you to not be nervous around me anymore. I also want to know why I make you nervous.”

You swallow, mouth suddenly dry.

Remus turns to look at you and the amber lighting of the library makes his skin look sunkissed and supple. His honey and sage eyes blink owlishly at you, no sign of rushing you along for an answer.

That was something you had learnt while silently watching Remus. He’s always actually listening- not just listening to respond.

“Because,” you start, eyes darting all over his face in search of any insecurity in it. “You always seem so hyper focused on what it is I’m going to say next and it flusters me.”

Remus’ face morphs into a smile, his lazy expression from before melting away as his eyes warm to your embarrassed whisper.

“So it’s not dislike?” He asks, hands itching to tip your chin up like he had the other night.

“Are you going to make me say it out loud?”

“Poor girl,” he feels much more confident now. Now that he knows for sure that you don’t hate him and that you might actually like him as much as he likes you, he can be a little more flirty.

His hand reaches for your wrist, thumb running back and forth around your pulse.

You scowl, more than a little bashful to have exposed your feelings to Remus. He doesn’t mind.

No, Remus feels over the moon. Enough so that his hand moves from your wrist and his forefinger hooks under your chin so you’re making eye contact again.

“I like you too. Just as much,” it’s his turn for a whispered confession and you hope to all hell that he can’t feel the thundering of your pulse. “Maybe more.”

You feel your body buzz under his attention. Remus leans in closer, “Let me take you out after this? We can go somewhere quiet and have a proper ‘first’ conversation.”

[kyometeru]

ft. YANDERE LOSER.

Tw; gn reader, suggestive, size difference, mentions of edging,

Minors DNI, below this point below includes suggestive wording, disturbing content and nsfw parts and such.

Mari's Notes ; realll sorry i haven't posted in four days, i promise I'll pop these out more

➤ # masterlist

✎ YANDERE LOSER who can't seem to get your scent and touch to leave his mind.

✎ YANDERE LOSER who would lick the dirt on your shoes and lick your spit if you ever were to spit anywhere.(you must wonder wha goes in my head.)

✎ YANDERE LOSER likes it when you drag him somewhere private and do things that'll pleasure both you and him. He would bawl his eyes out to be inside you. Edging isn't much of a problem for him since he's used to it

✎ YANDERE LOSER who follows you every just to make you snap at him. He gets frequent nosebleeds usually when you yell at him. Also a growing erection.

✎ YANDERE LOSER hates it when your friends talk about your “relationship” you have with. He grits his teeth when you say 'it's nothing' or 'it's not like that'.

✎ YANDERE LOSER is the one for you right? Then why aren't you paying attention and bullying others?

✎ YANDERE LOSER who adores the height difference you two share. You can be short or tall he'll still fall head over heels in love with you.

✎ YANDERE LOSER who loves the way you change your demeanor. It could vary from dom, sub, or just wanting him to cuddle in your arms. He knows it's very wholesome.

✎ YANDERE LOSER who tries to dom you but you'll eventually get bored and dom him. Either way it still feels amazing even though he can't cum inside.

✎ YANDERE LOSER gets hot and bothered too much. Even if you think of him only as a sex slave, he can't get the previous sessions out of his mind. You do something to him.

[corruptedcaps]

The Devil in the Details

Tasha had been working at her new job for nearly a year now and found it desperately hard to get promoted. She was smart and great at her job but the office slut Victoria always took credit for her work. Tasha didn’t speak up for fear of repercussions from Victoria and her two equally bad friends Marie and Lisa. She knew if she kept at it eventually the higher ups would notice. Tasha knew Victoria and her bitchy cohort were bad but not evil.

That changed when one night after working late at the office she overheard them in a disused conference room preparing to do some real evil. Satanic ritual evil. They had moved the table and chairs to one side and drew a pentagram on the floor. Kneeling in the unholy symbol was the queen bitch herself Victoria.

"Are you sure about this Vic? This seems a little too much even for us." Said Lisa starting to question their plan.

"Dont back out now loser, once I summon the demon and he makes me a succubus then I'll enslave our little CEO to do my bidding and we will run this place. You two will have a place by my side and can have all the money and cock you want." Victoria replied. Lisa and Marie looked at each other and smiled, liking the sound of what they were hearing.

"Now let's chant so our new lives can start." Victoria said with a wicked smile and the three began to chant in a language Tasha had never heard before. Tasha had snuck into the room and was hiding behind the mound of tables and chairs. She took out her phone and began recording. She didn't believe in magic or demons but knew this sort of thing would be worthy of a firing so she needed the proof.

As the chanting became louder Tasha felt a chill in the air then suddenly the candles surrounding the pentagram blew out. A blast of hellfire erupted in front of Victoria and there appeared a demon. He had long black horns adorn his red head and a pointed tail floated behind him with almost a mind of its own. The three women bowed before him in reverance.

"Why do mere mortals summon I, Zepar demon of lust, greed and power?" The demon snarled.

“I seek magnificent power my lord. I wish to have my body and soul corrupted into that of a succubus, one fit for an evil queen. I will be your conduit on earth for you to receive the souls of the innocent so you can grow powerful and return to earth as king.” Victoria said. Zepar looked her up and down for a moment, seemingly intrigued by her offer but then let out a deep and dark laugh.

“I have no doubt that is what you desire but my dark magic chooses the host, not the other way around. However I do detect one of you mortals are worthy of my gift. Only the one the magic chooses will become my succubus queen, the others must serve her. Do you agree to my terms?” Zepar said with a mischievous grin. Victoria smiled back at him. She knew she was the one worthy of his power. Her two friends were pathetic next to her.

“We of course accept your terms.” Victoria said. As the words left her mouth, a surge of dark energy pulsed through the room, causing the floor to tremble and the air to thicken. The candles reignited with an eerie, blue flame, casting long, wavering shadows across the walls. Victoria's eyes gleamed with anticipation as she stood, facing the demon with unwavering confidence.

Zepar extended his hand, and a swirling vortex of black smoke began to form in his palm. "Let the ritual begin." He commanded, his voice reverberating through the room. Tasha, still hidden behind the mound of furniture, felt her heart race. She knew she had to do something, but fear paralyzed her. Her phone continued recording, capturing every sinister word and action.

Victoria stretched her arms out wide, waiting for the dark magic to take her but to her and everyone's surprise it suddenly shot across the room to Tasha's hiding spot.

The black smoke enveloped Tasha, lifting her off the ground. Her body convulsed as the dark magic took hold, reshaping her form into something otherworldly yet darkly beautiful. Her eyes turned a deep, mesmerizing violet, and her tits grew fuller. Her nails elongated into elegant, sharp points, painted obsidian black and her hair cascaded down in long, dark, straight waves. Her lips became plump and enticing, a deep shade of crimson.

At first, fear gripped Tasha's mind, her thoughts a whirlwind of panic. What was happening to her? She could feel the dark magic coursing through her veins, twisting her mind. But as the transformation continued, the fear began to fade, replaced by a strange sense of superiority. This power, this strength, it was exactly what she needed to finally rise above Victoria and her cronies.

As she embraced the darkness inside of her now, two small red horns grew painfully out from the top of her head. The pain was now comforting to her, it made her feel more alive than she ever had been before.

Her boring work clothes ignited and disintegrated, replaced by tight black latex that clung to her newly transformed figure, accentuating every curve. She landed gracefully, exuding an aura of seductive power that made the air around her crackle with intensity.

Zepar's gaze shifted from Victoria to Tasha, who moved to the demon’s side with a smirk. "It seems the darkness has chosen." He declared, his voice filled with a sinister glee. Victoria's confident smile faltered, replaced by a look of shock and disbelief.

"No!" Victoria screamed, her face contorting with rage. "It was supposed to be me!" She lunged towards Tasha, but Tasha raised her hand, sending a wave of dark energy that knocked her back.

"Your ambition blinded you, Victoria." Tasha said coldly. "The power goes to the one most worthy. Me."

Tasha looked down at Victoria, Lisa, and Marie, her violet eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and newfound authority. "Kneel before your queen." She said, her voice resonating with an eerie power.

Lisa and Marie, too frightened to defy this new Tasha, immediately dropped to their knees. Victoria, seething with fury, reluctantly followed suit, her eyes blazing with hatred.

Zepar turned to Tasha, a satisfied smile on his face. "Now, my succubus queen, you shall serve as my conduit on Earth. You will gather the souls of the innocent and corrupt them into weapons for our upcoming war. Once you have, I will return and together we shall bring chaos to this world."

"I look forward to your return my king." She said, her voice purring with affection for the demon as Zephar leaned in and the two kissed deep and long.

Zepar let out a dark, triumphant laugh before he vanished in a swirl of black smoke, leaving behind the lingering scent of sulfur.

Tasha stood tall in her new form, the room now filled with an eerie silence. She turned her gaze to the three women before her, who were still on their knees, trembling with a mix of fear and awe.

Tasha's lips curled into an evil smirk. She could feel the power coursing through her veins, the dark magic making her feel invincible. She took a step closer, her heels clicking ominously on the floor. "Before you can be worthy to serve me, you need to be punished. You must learn your place, and I will ensure you never forget it." She declared, her eyes gleaming with a sadistic pleasure.

With a wave of her hand she conjured an enormous strap on that wrapped tightly to her hips. Waving her other hand, dark tendrils of magic shot out, wrapping around the three women, binding them in place. "Let's begin with you Victoria." Tasha said in dark glee.

[hexedwinchester]

Supernatural characters I wish were never created or just overstayed their welcome

*Disclaimer: it's gonna be a lot of fan favorite characters. if your fav is in the list, don't mind me.. it's just my opinion.. you don't have to take my word for it.

Let's start easy, characters that overstayed their welcome

Meg 2.0: Meg 1.0 was amazing but Rachel's Meg fell flat. Didn't have the same cruel zing that Nicki brought

Castiel: you knew this was coming. His character only made sense until he exploded in the water reserve in S7. That should have been the end of it

Gabriel: his death at the end of season 5 was so amazing. He finally died for something he believed in. It was righteous. They ruined it by bringing him back

Lucifer: he was really good until they gave him this clownish character in the later seasons. He only made sense until they brought him back to kill Amara. Everything else after that was pretty annoying

Becky: didn't need her in the last season. Nuh-uh!

Characters I wish were never created

GhostFacers: sorry, were they supposed to be funny? Didn't chuckle even once. They were so annoying and did nothing for me

Bela Talbot: no seriously, why was she there apart from stealing the colt from the boys? She was narcissistic and selfish

Archangel Raphael: sorry, I could never take this guy seriously. He wasn't terrifying at all

Dick Roman: I ain't buying that he was introduced for anything other than dick jokes

Cole Trenton: this loser! He was lame, his vendetta was lame. What was he supposed to do?? Piss off demon dean? Newsflash, he was always pissed

Asmodeus: I only remember him for two things - his white suit and shedim but other than that what else??

Back from dead Mary Winchester: she added more punch when she died in the first season. She was never there for Sam, hell, she wasn't even around for Dean. She didn't add anything to the story

Sister jo: she was so annoying. God! She was another Bela Talbot but with angel grace and like all angels she was a douche

Kaia/dark Kaia, Claire Novak, Patience, Donna hanscum: ughh!

AU Bobby and Charlie: one word: why?

I know they added a lot of characters so Jared and Jensen could take some time off shooting but really these were the worst folks ever

[anyarose011]

Too Late To Turn Back Now {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: A dislocated shoulder, an insult to end all men, a few lies, going out to eat, and an unwanted revelation about Angus Tully. What a perfect way to celebrate Christmas Eve-Eve.

Part 4 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of arm injury, mentions of underage drinking, minor harassment, and discussion of cancer.

This was one of the more lighthearted and fun as hell chapters to write, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Word Count: 5.0k

Apparently, Angus Tully had gone on another adventure without you. One probably shouldn’t call it an adventure if he went to the chapel, and merely stared at the photo of your dead friend for hours on end.

“Do you think he was praying?” You asked Mary after she told you that while you were helping her make lunch.

“I think he’s just as religious as you.”

You scoffed. “He’d never become a priest.”

“You’d make a lousy nun.”

“I’d be a fun one.”

Once the four of you sat down to eat, your father tried to give you cookies you knew for a fact were given to you by Miss Crane. You also knew they were a week old at this point. Still, to spare your father’s feelings, you broke off a piece. You then put it in your mouth, nodding with a smile before bringing your napkin to your lips as if to clean them, when really you just spat the cookie into it.

Immediately, Angus asked to go to the bathroom, and you knew he wasn’t doing that, but you couldn’t blame him.

“I’m trying.” Your father shrugged, and all you and Mary could do was laugh.

You helped her was the dishes after that, and went back out to the dining hall, still seeing your dad sitting at the same table, alone.

“Everything alright?” You asked.

“Yes, just waiting on Mr. Tully.”

“You honestly can’t force him to learn today.” You scoffed, leaning against one of the chairs. “It’s Christmas Eve-Eve.”

“You always had lessons on Christmas Eve-Eve, and you didn’t complain.”

“I did.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Several times.”

He sighed. “I’ll let him out early by an hour; if you attend as well.”

“Never mind, let him rot.”

“I thought so.” He got up from his chair. “Where on God’s green earth is that boy?”

You watched him leave through the doors Angus took ten minutes ago, and as you were about to go into the kitchen to (lovingly) bother Mary some more, you heard shouting. Now of course, you were (and still are) a nosey bitch, so you had no choice but to also go through the doors leading out into the hallway. You heard Angus first.

“There’s nobody here, okay? Just us two losers, a grieving mom, and your-.”

His face and words fell once he saw you enter, and your father turned to see you standing in the doorframe, looking as if you wandered into something you shouldn’t have. Then, you threw on the attitude.

“What am I now?”

He looked away. “Nothing.”

“Oh, wow!” You began with fake enthusiasm.

“I didn’t mean-.”

“-No, no of course you didn’t.”

Your father stepped in. “That’s enough from the both of you. Mr. Tully, I can forgive you for using the phone without permission if-.”

“-If what?” He interrupted. “No, let’s cut the shit: You stay out of my way, and I stay out of yours.”

Of course, your father had detention slips in his back pocket, and of course he threw one up. “That’s a detention.”

Angus pushed past him, groaning and walking fast down the hall. You pursed your lips. “You really showed him.”

“Stuff it, Lady Macbeth.” He scolded, then called Angus. “You just earned yourself a detention, sir. Now, get back here!”

Angus looked back. “Being here with you is already one big fucking detention!”

“Son of a bitch, that’s another detention!”

In response, Angus knocked over a trash can, which caused your father to run like you’d never seen him run before. You should be ashamed that your first instinct was to laugh, but you weren’t and you still aren’t.

You should also have felt like a fool for deciding to run after them as if it were a game. Again, you didn’t feel like one then, and if you were to do it again as an old woman, you would in a heartbeat.

You saw as Angus tore off posters from the wall and would stop at corners just to taunt your father. Then, after running around more than half the school (you had no idea how much honestly, but it was enough for you), you stopped outside of the gym with the both of them. Even with Angus’s back turned, you knew he was contemplating the unthinkable.

“Don’t you even think about it, Mr. Tully.” Your father warned, panting from running. “You are a hair’s breadth from suspension. I’ll wash my hands of you, you hear me? Wash my hands.” Angus ignored him, stepping into the gym.

You followed your father as he kept going. “Stop right there, you know the gym is strictly off limits. This is your Rubicon. Do not cross the Rubicon.”

Angus took one look at the gym equipment, then back to the two of you. “Alea jacta est.”

He winked at you before springing towards the trampoline, bouncing off of it and over the balance beam. When his body landed with a hard ‘thud!’, you and your father were stricken with tense silence.

Which was then broken when an inhuman scream ripped from Angus’ throat.

Still, as your father looked on in horror, you said (being completely unbothered). “He’s faking it.”

When his screams didn’t subside, and you only heard them grow louder and he threw in more explicate language, your smile fell. It was when he got to his knees did you see how mangled his left arm looked, and you felt like you were going to throw up.

Angus Tully was one step ahead of you in that department, and that’s all we should say about that (not that he nearly puked on you; if anyone ever says that, they’re lying and should be shot on sight).

So, that was how, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve-Eve, you came to be standing outside of your father’s shitty 1964 Nova. You and Angus, who was crying while wearing half of his jacket, were shivering violently, waiting for your father to scrape off the car.

“Hurry up!” Both you and him would beg.

“I am hurrying!” Would be your father’s only response, and you saw his face grow redder every time either of you would yell.

Luckily, he managed to (somehow) scrape it all off and you three piled into the car. Even though you were going to anyway, you father insisted you sit in the front (more than likely because he knew you and Angus would probably try to kill each other in a high tense situation, and who would’ve figured he was right).

“I was on thin ice already.” Your father panicked at you as he stepped on the gas to the hospital. “If Woodrup finds out, the facts won’t matter, he’ll make it my fault.”

“It is your fault!” Angus cried from the back of the car, trying to hold his mangled arm up. “You were supposed to be looking after me!”

“I told you to stop!”

“You said you washed your hands of me!”

“No, I meant it metaphorically!”

“Of course you meant it metaphorically. What were you gonna do, actually go and wash your hands?!”

Your father turned back to the road. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable, I said I will wash my hands, never once did I say it in the present tense!”

“I don’t know, Pontius Pilate.” You shrugged. “This Jesus guy makes a good point.”

When he hissed your real name, you nearly shrank into your seat. “I don’t need any more of this from you. You were the one to tell me he was faking it anyway!”

“You said that?!” Angus yelled. “Jesus, I knew you hated all men.”

“Not true.” You turned around to look at him. “I would’ve said the exact same thing about a woman, especially if I heard her screaming from your room!”

Out of all the times you made a man cry and left him speechless, this one was and forever will be your favorite (obviously he was crying from his arm, but you liked to think your comment also did that). Your father scolded you for your foul mouth, but it was 100% worth it.

There you three sat in the emergency room, waiting for over an hour for a nurse to let you in, when your father started monologuing to himself.

“This is the end. They’ll inform the school, who will inform your parents, and then it’s curtains. You’re gonna get me fired; you.” He looked at Angus, then you. “I hope you like sleeping in the snow, Josephine.”

“I love it more than life itself.” You rolled your eyes.

Angus grumbled. “I’m the one about to lose an arm and all you can think about is yourself.”

“Hey, he was worried about me.” You pointed out.

He turned and glared at you, and you actually felt bad for the first time that day.

A nurse soon approached you, handing your father a clipboard and pen. “If you could just fill this out, please. Admissions and insurance.”

Your father, hesitantly, begins to fill it out. It sounded like a joke at first, having to sleep somewhere else, but honestly what were you going to do? You and your father lived in the faculty housing ever since-.

“-Excuse me?” Angus asked the nurse as she was walking away. “Is there any way we could skip this whole insurance thing?”

“It’s just standard procedure.”

“I understand. But look, we were over at Squantz pond playing hockey, and I slipped on the ice.”

Your father whispered. “Angus, what are you doing?”

But he kept going, glancing at you for a moment. “Our mom told him not to take us, but I made him. Our folks are divorced, and we don’t get to see each other very often. She’ll be mad as a hornet if she finds out.”

The nurse still didn’t let up. “Okay, that’s your business. But we just have certain protocols.”

“Yeah, protocols.” Your father tried to warn.

Angus didn’t listen to either. “Please, we ever get to see my dad. It was my fault, all mine. I don’t want to get him in trouble.” He looked at you. “We can’t have her dragging him to court again.”

You shook your head, swallowing a pretend lump in your throat. “No. Last time was…oh god.”

He looked back at the nurse.  “Can we skip the whole insurance thing? We can pay cash. Right, Dad?”

What a sucker; it took you and Angus to do ‘Kicked Puppy” eyes for a minute, and she was brining the three of you in to the see the doctor in three.

When they were removing his shirt, they told him first look away from the arm, but they didn’t inform you.

“Is it that bad?” He asked upon hearing your audible disgust.

“Not the worst thing I’ve seen in a hospital.”

Your father slugged you, but not hard enough for it to hurt. Still, the whole thing was a blur as they popped Angus’ arm back into its socket. It was dislocated, not broken, and a part of you selfishly wish that it had been just to spare you from the disgusting noises. That and also Angus’s screaming, as if you hadn’t been objectified to that enough.

The three of you were leaving after Angus' arm was tied in a sling, when your father spoke up.

“Barton men don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Angus asked, readjusting his sling.

"Lie."

“Well, I had momentum.”

“Mhm,” he looked at you. “what’s your excuse?”

You shrugged. “I don’t go to Barton, and I’m not a man. Thank God, by the way, considering I hate all of them.”

Even though you said that sarcastically, neither of the men said you were wrong.

When you three made it to the pharmacy, and your father handed over the prescription, the pharmacist went to search for it. Angus lowered his voice, saying to your dad.

“You said that if Woodrup finds out, you and her screwed. So now he won’t find out.”

“What if your parents ask?” You questioned.

“Never going to happen. Trust me.”

Your father raised his brows. “Okay, then. This all remains entre nous. Got it? You know what entre nous means?”

“Oui, monsieur.” He smirked “Now you owe me.”

“Owe you?” Your father gasped. “Do not try to leverage me, Mr. Tully.”

“All I’m looking for is little thank you that I did something nice for you. That’s all.”

You shrugged, deciding you wanted a treat too. “It is Christmas Eve-Eve.”

Your father took you all out to ‘The Winning Ticket’; the classiest tavern within 50 miles. Classy being the less dingy, place in Barton. As your father and ‘Friend of Some Sort’ had a minor debate on underage drinking, you saw the last waitress you wanted approach.

“Miss Crane, as I live and breathe.” Your father sounded amazed as if he saw Aphrodite herself. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hi guys!” She laughed “Yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“Well uh,” he gestured to Angus. “This is Mr. Tully.” Then to you beside him. “And this is-you already know my daughter.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “quite well. My niece knows her too if you can believe that.”

He laughed a little louder than he should have, and you wanted to crawl under the table and bang your head against the metal support until you split your skull open.

“Oh, and sure, I know you.” Miss Crane nodded to Angus.

“Angus Tully,” he smiled. “we met outside of Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet.”

“Well, I didn’t know about the ‘wrongly’ part. I just know that miss Hunham talks a lot about you when she visits.”

Aaand now you wanted to just take any of the silverware off the table (even the spoon would work) and stab yourself.

“Does she?” He teased.

You were quick with a comeback. “About how ridiculously annoying you are. I was baking cookies and Elise nearly crawled into the oven because the things I said about you were just too horrible for her to hear.”

“Now be nice.” Your father said.

“When have I never?”

The three of you ordered (after another discussion about alcohol and underage drinking with Miss Crane this time), and it did not escape you or Angus how your father’s eyes were still on her even after she left.

“Ouch,” Angus smiled. “you two have chemistry.”

“That’s the Percodan talking.” Your father pointed out.

“I don’t know, seeing her like this, I think she’s pretty attractive.”

You gagged, not even having the will to come up with a good comeback, you were so disgusted. Thankfully, your father had one.

“Listen, you hormonal vulgarian, that woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculation.”

You never gave it much thought; your father dating women after your mother died. He just never truly seemed that interested in anyone, and he said it himself, he never goes out. Still…while you do want him to be happy, the woman of interest is your best friend’s aunt-.

Angus pursed his lips. “May I at least go to the bathroom? Sir? “

“You mean the payphone?” Even when he saw Angus’ eyes darken, your father still was not stirred. “Jo March, accompany him, please.”

You sighed. “Why do I have to be his keeper?”

“Because I, Pontius Pilate, washed my hands of him, remember?”

With that being said, you walked with Angus over to the bathrooms, and waited outside with your arms crossed like a child being punished. After a few minutes, he came back out, and the first thing you asked was.

“How’d you lie so easily?”

He gave you a look. “When?”

“The hospital.” You clarified. “You came up with a whole story on the spot that was so convincing, you had a nurse wrapped around your finger within a minute.”

Angus shrugged, beginning to walk away. “You were honestly the icing on the cake.”

“Oh, thank you.” You spoke with sarcasm, following him. “But honestly, you-.”

“-Are you any good at pinball?”

Okay mister ‘Trying to Change the Subject’, you’d play this game (literally and figuratively). “Yeah, I think so.”

He grabbed two dimes from his pocket. “Wanna bet?”

“I guarantee you that’s all the money you have, so there’s nothing to bet.”

“Not exactly.” You both wandered over to the machines. “If I win, you owe me something, and vice versa.”

“And if I wanted you to get out of my life?”

“Done and done, but only If you win, which you won’t.” He put the dimes on top of the machine a guy was playing on.

“Sorry, kid. Next game’s taken.” The many said.

Angus furrowed his brow. “But I just put some dimes down.”

“Don’t care. My buddy’s up next.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“That’s how it works in here. Why don’t you go shoot the other fuckin’ machine?”

“Because I don’t want to shoot the other fuckin’ machine.”

You put your hand on his non-injured arm. “Angus, it’s fine.”

Before he could retaliate, the man lost the game, sighing. “Thanks for fuckin’ up my mojo. Kenny! You’re up.”

“Bullshit.” Angus shook his head. “I put my dimes down, so we’re up next.”

“What was that?” You both looked and saw ‘Kenny’, a drunk man with a hook for his right hand. Shit… “Hey, kiddies,” he snapped his fingers at the both of you. “my eyes are up here.”

His friend snorted. “Look at these fucking kids; spoiled little Barton boy and his prissy girlfriend.”

Not the first nor the last time you were a smartass to a man where it will almost get you killed. “I’ll have you know, gentlemen, he is not my boyfriend; he is the reason I hope every day I become an only child.”

“You know what?” Angus stepped in before Kenny could respond. “You can just take my dime.”

“Take it?” He taunted. “You want me to take your dime? Like it’s charity?”

“No, what I mean is, we could play together.” and let this be known that Angus Tully was not always great at thinking on his feet. “Yeah, you could be my left arm.”

“The fuck did you just say to me?!”

Flinching at his tone, you decided to actually use your brain, for once. “Oh my gosh, I think I hear Dad calling us.” You took Angus’ hand without thinking. “Come on Fitzwilliam, you fucked everything up as always.”

You didn’t care that two, pissed off men were following and yelling at you, you didn’t even care that you were holding Angus’ Tully’s hand and having him trip over his own feet as you pulled him back to your table, you just needed to get out of there.

“Papa,” you call out to your father. “can we go please?”

He hummed at your arrival (and the term of endearment, which you only use if something has gone array).  “Why?”

“Our favorite asshole got us in trouble.”

“Hey!” Kenny shouted at you and Angus. “Why’d you run off? We were just talking to you. Do they teach you manners at that school?”

Hook for hand be damned, your fight or flight instincts kicked in when he put his hand on Angus and you were about to be the reason he’d lose it. Then, Miss Crane stepped in.

“Kenneth, leave them alone, they just came in for some food.”

Still, he looked like he was about to charge the both of you.

Your father stepped in next. “Kenneth, is that right? I don’t doubt that he did something to offend you. It’s his specialty. Perhaps I could purchase you gentlemen something to imbibe, and we could let whatever this unfortunate incident is go the way of the dodo.”

“The what?” The first guy playing pinball asked.

“The dodo,” Angus said. “it’s an extinct bird.”

“What he’s trying to say is,” Miss Crane translated. “he wants to buy you guys a beer.”

It didn’t take long for the two men to consider it. Kenny nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Same here.” His friend agreed. “I’ll have a Miller.”

“The champagne of beers.” Angus smiled, nodding.

It was when everything final cooled down, and as the two men and Miss Crane left to get their drinks, did you notice you were still holding Angus’ hand. Which you let go of as if you were holding fire in the palm of your hand.

He went back to his moody self after that, as you were walking back to the car after finishing dinner (no connection of course).

“Why’d you buy those guys beer? They’re assholes.”

Your father shrugged. “That’s one way to look at it. Here, catch.”

He tossed him the keys, which he caught. Your father continued his lecture, walking ahead of both of you.  “How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off? Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam. They go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not.”

Angus glanced at you. “Except for Curtis Lamb.”

“Except for Curtis Lamb.” Your father repeated his words when they stood outside the car.

“Were you ever in the military?”

“Yes, I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected-I have to get in over there.” He said after failing to open the door on the driver’s side. He walked over to the passenger’s (which you begrudgingly allowed Angus to have this time) side that Angus unlocked. “They made me an air raid warden. Gave me a whistle and everything. Helmet. Arm band.”

You opened the back door and slid into the seats, but Angus stayed outside, asking. “Before we get going, can I be candid with you?”

Your father already was used to that question from you, so he didn’t even look scared when he hummed his approval.

“You smell.” He got into the car. “And it’s really noticeable toward the end of the day. I even smell it on your coat. Mind if I crack the window?”

He didn’t even wait for his response before rolling the window down anyway. Before you could say something snarky to defend your father, he spoke first. “Trimethylaminuria.”

Angus furrowed his brow. “Huh?”

“Trimethylaminuria.” He repeated. “Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell. And uh, yes, more toward the end of the day.”

“Wow…your whole life?”

Your father nodded.

“No wonder you’re afraid of women.” Angus said your name, glancing back at you. “How did he marry your mom?”

Your jaw dropped, and only inaudible noises came out at first before you settled on. “I’m too sober for that conversation.”

“For the record,” Your dad interrupted, stunned. “I am not afraid of women, and you shouldn’t be asking a girl personal questions after insulting her father. Jesus.”

Angus nodded. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Dr. Getler says I should give more consideration to my audience.”

“Who’s Dr. Getler?” You asked.

“My shrink.”

Your father decided to jump in. “Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a good swift kick in the ass?

He scoffed. “Okay, now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.”

“Something negative about you?”

“Sure, just one thing.”

“Just one?” You and your father questioned.

He nodded, preparing for the absolute worst, but it never came. Your father merely turned back to the front, started the car, and began to make the long drive back to Barton. You weren’t even out of the neighborhood when Angus then asked.

“Fitzwilliam?” He looked at you. “What kind of name is that?”

Your father snickered. “That’s what you called him?”

You shrugged. “The guys thought he was a stuck-up rich boy, but he’s really awkward and looks like he wants to kill himself every time someone looks at him, I had to.”

“He strikes me more as a Hamlet.”

To anyone who didn’t know anything about Shakespeare, that would be a compliment. To you and your father specifically, it made you laugh. Of course Angus Tully would be one of the most overdramatic characters in theatre.

“Seriously,” the boy in question said tiredly. “who the hell is Fitzwilliam?”

Your father shook his head. “My advice, Mr. Tully? Brush up on the classics; Pride and Prejudice would be a good place to start.”

None of you had the strength to do much more that night besides spending time in your rooms before bed. It was as you were a few chapters into Little Women, did you wonder.

“Why were you and my dad yelling at each other this afternoon?”

Angus looked up from his copy of Popular Mechanics to see you in the doorway once you asked that question. You both were both just wearing your pajamas and socks; outfits you had only seen each other in for either a short number of times, in dimmed lighting, or with jackets over.

It felt different this time…stranger, even.

“Hello to you too.” He greeted, setting the magazine down.

“Well?”

Pursing his lips, he didn’t look at you at first before saying. “I was calling a hotel.”

“Your mom’s?”

“No, one in Boston.”

“Why would you…?” The look on his face said it all. That look of regret and pity that you didn’t understand what he meant right away. “Oh…”

You wanted nothing more than to have said it with disgust, but it was disappointment that laced the word. Then, with a mix of anger and even hurt.

“Am I that insufferable to be around?”

He shot his head up. “What? No.”

“Seems like it.” You scoffed, beginning to pace around the room. “What happened to ‘Friends of some sort’? I asked you if we were fine because I felt like you’d gone quiet, and you said we were. I get it; you asked me to tell you the craziest thing that happened to me, and I should’ve just said ‘I got slightly drunk at a party’, not everything. You barely tell me anything about yourself, and then I just go and throw out the shittiest things that have happened to me. It’s not fair, and I’m sorry-.”

“-My father’s dead.”

Nothing could’ve gotten you to shut up faster.

It caused you such a shock, that you sat down on the bed beside him, staring at him. His gaze changed in a matter of seconds; when he first told you and you looked at him, you’d never seen anyone surer. Then, as shock settled into you, discomfort did for him. You let the quietness between you linger for a moment, terrified of your own response.

“I…I had a feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were expecting him to immediately respond, but he didn’t. You debated on just sitting in the silence, or crawling back into your room and pretending this didn’t happen, when Angus finally spoke up.

“I was thirteen, he was…really, really sick for some time but then it just happened so fast and…I don’t really like talking about it, I’m sorry-.”

“-No, I shouldn’t have pressured you-.” You relented first, and ff the circumstances weren’t bleak, it would be funny how you both spoke over each other.

“-You weren’t, you told me something about yourself and I should’ve-.”

“-You aren’t in debt or some bullshit to share anything with me-.”

“-I just haven’t really told people that before-.”

“-Your arm wasn’t the worst thing I saw in a hospital.” You decided to break the loop, and it was successful. “My mother was sick too and…” You chuckled, but felt tears prick your eyes all of a sudden at the thought. “God, she’ll haunt me for this, but she was so skinny the last time I saw her…Cancer. She and my dad were debating on if I should see her like that before she goes, and I won the argument in the end that, yes, I needed to say goodbye. I’m glad I did, no, that’s not what I think of when I think of her but…it scared me. I was eleven.”

He nodded, listening without interruption; a skill that seemed he only acquired during these small moments of vulnerability. Well, you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself vulnerable; you were merely answering his questions truthfully based on your experiences (of course; no vulnerability whatsoever. You didn’t open yourself up to others outside of your father and Mary, why would you to Angus Tully?)

“I went to the chapel before anyone else woke up and I just couldn’t stop staring at the picture of Curtis Lamb…I can’t even say it got me thinking about death or anything like that I just…I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I felt weird and wanted to run away.”

“I get that.”

“I’m sorry for trying to get a hotel by the way,” he apologized again. “if that matters.”

You gave him a smile. “It does.”

For the first time in a while, you thought you saw him smile too; a genuine one, mind you, not the shit-eating grin he often gave you and everyone else. It was then you decided to get up and head to bed, bidding him goodnight. Then, again, you stopped in the doorway from another thought.

“What were you going to call me?”

“Huh?” He perked his head up.

“When you were crying about being stuck over here for Christmas?” You alluded. “You and my father are losers, Mary’s a grieving mom, but what am I?”

His eyes drifted in thought, then back to you. “‘Your know-it-all daughter.’ That’s what I was gonna say.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling as you backed out into your room. “I do know all, Angus Tully.”

You couldn’t see his face anymore when you went to your bed, but you heard his sarcastic ‘Goodnight’ with him saying your full name, and your chest felt lighter than it did the night prior to talking with him.

…What the hell was happening to you?

You were giddy, you giggled to yourself about nothing and had to hide your mouth under the blanket so Angus wouldn’t hear you in the other room. For a moment, when asking him what he would’ve called you, you wanted him to say ‘pretty’. So much shit happened that day, but the one thing, the one thing that your mind goes back to is taking his hand, and not letting go until you realized-…

…No…

No…

Oh, what the fuck?!

Oh god!

Once you were happy about having a newfound crush on Angus Tully, and now you were in absolute agony.

What a wonderful way to spend Christmas Eve-Eve.

[in-my-feels-probably]

Getting drunk with sirius and seeing who can go the longest without touching the other

Feeling

Request: Getting drunk with sirius and seeing who can go the longest without touching the other

Hi! I love this request, it’s such a cute idea. Thank you for sending it in. Sorry it’s a little short. I hope you enjoy it!

(Warnings: swearing, underage drinking, let me know if i missed anything)

—

“Merlin, get a room, you two!” James groaned, scrunching his nose up at the sight of you and Sirius. 

His voice was drowned out by the sound of your friends laughing as you covered your face. Your cheeks were burning, although that probably had more to do with the firewhiskey in your cup than the embarrassment from having all your friends snicker at you. Your friends were starting to feel the effects of the firewhiskey too, in a giggly haze. You were sitting on top of Sirius’s lap, his cheeks pink and his eyes glazed. His arms were secure tight around your waist, his cheek leaning against your arm. 

“Piss off,” Sirius laughed, looking up at you with a smile as he ran his finger under the hem of your shirt to trace his fingers along the base of your spine. “You’re just jealous. I’ve got the prettiest girl in the room.”

Lily, Marlene, and Mary feigned offense, though they didn’t take it personally. You did, however, slapping his shoulder. 

“Be nice! Don't say things that aren’t true so loudly.”

Sirius nuzzled into your side, gazing up at you with genuine adoration. “It’s true to me, my dear.”

Your eyes softened at his words, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. The girls cooed, making a fuss over the pair of you. The boys weren’t as easily impressed, however, groaning at the sight of their friend so love struck. 

“You’re ruining the game,” James whined, gesturing to your friends. “Pay attention, Pads. It’s your turn next.”

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. “Good luck getting him to pay attention long enough to take it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius challenged, raising a brow. 

“It means,” Remus said, leaning in with a smirk on his face. “That you two can’t keep your hands off each other for longer than a minute, let alone long enough to sit through the entire game.”

“That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it?” Lily grinned, gesturing to his arms secured around your waist. 

Sirius looked down at his hands, before looking up at you apprehensively. You smiled down at him, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. He groaned, lessening his hold. 

“You do make it hard, darling,” he said, releasing you. “But I will not be accosted by these two dickheads. What do you say? Can we make it the whole game?”

You grinned, promptly standing up from his lap. You placed yourself snug in between James and Remus, cooing when Sirius’s face turned into a pout.

“Don’t sulk, love. It is only temporary,” you said, smirking when your friends watched you with curious eyes. “I’ve got a game of my own.”

“Go on,” Sirius mused, already feeling himself wanting to reach for you. 

“We’ll beat their little game, that’s for sure. You lot can piss off if you think we’ll break that quickly.”

“We’ll see,” Remus said into his cup, taking a swig of his firewhiskey. “Five galleons on you losing, though. What’s your game, then?”

You set your hazy eyes on Sirius, feeling yourself warm as he looked back at you. It should be illegal for a man to look that pretty. It almost made you want to take back your proposition. But if there was going to be a game, it would be a game of your design. 

And you’d win.

“We’ll refrain from touching each other for the rest of the game. And after, we’ll see which of the two of us cracks first. Whoever caves and touches the other first is the loser.”

“Is there a consequence for losing? Anything at risk?” Sirius asked with eyes full of curiosity.

“Only your pride.” 

Your words made his grin widen, and he nodded, accepting your challenge. “You’re on, darling. I hope you’re prepared to lose.”

“In your dreams, Black.”

Mary grinned, clapping her hands together. “Alright! Let’s keep playing.”

—

You and Sirius worked together, successfully winning the bet your friends held against each other, much to their displeasure.

Amongst the sour faces, James was still grinning. “We may have lost our game, but one of them will lose theirs. I say Sirius caves first.”

“What? Why?” Sirius asked, whining. 

You laughed, patting James on the shoulder. “Thank you, James. It’s good to know someone believes in me.”

Marlene and Mary nodded, agreeing with James. But Lily shook her head, looking at you with uncertainty. Remus had the same look on his face. 

“You don’t think I can do it?” You asked, your question directed at Lily.

“I don’t think either of you can do it, but especially not you. You’re both ridiculously stubborn, but I think it’ll be you who caves first. You subconsciously reach for him after a while, it probably won’t even be an outright decision. You love him too much to hold out.” 

Remus nodded, agreeing. “All you gotta do is pay attention, Sirius. And do pay attention. I’m putting five galleons on you.” 

“I’ll take that bet. Five galleons on Y/N,” James grinned, holding his hand out for Remus to shake. 

They shook on it, and you rolled your eyes. Your friends had little faith in you. If they were getting money out of this, then you had to get something out of it, too. It’s not as if it would negatively affect Sirius. He had enough money that it wouldn’t matter how much he gave up. The only thing he’d be losing is his pride. And that seemed like a very fair price. 

“I think we should put money on it, Sirius. Whoever loses owes the other something from Hogsmeade the next time we go.”

Sirius had already begun wanting to give up the game entirely. He wanted you back in his lap, with his arms around your waist. But your friends were watching, and he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break. 

He nodded, leaning back into the couch cushions. “You’re on, darling. Prepare to lose.”

Marlene looked between the two of you, nearly rolling her eyes. “You both talk a big game. Let’s play another round and see how it goes, yeah?”

You nodded, and everyone continued on, getting progressively tipsier. 

—

You had all had your fill, and by end of the second round, the girls were beginning to yawn. Lily rubbed her eyes, standing up from where she was sitting. 

“Alright, I’m off to bed. You’ll have to let me know who won tomorrow. Goodnight,” she said, waving to everyone as she began climbing the stairs to her dorm. 

Mary nodded, reaching for Marlene as she stood. “Us too, darling. I don’t fancy falling asleep on this couch for all the first years to see us in the morning.”

“Me either,” Remus said, clapping Sirius on the shoulder before standing up too. “Good luck, mate.”

James scoffed, standing up and clapping you on the shoulder as well. “You all have no faith. Good luck, Y/N. I better be five galleons richer in the morning.”

You saluted him, letting him pass you to go up the stairs. “Yes sir. I’ll do my best.”

“Attagirl,” he called down the steps, before you heard the sound of a door closing. 

When they were all gone, you turned to Sirius. He was looking at you with hazy eyes, a grin plastered on his face. Like it was second nature, you scooted closer to him, wanting to be as close as you could be without actually touching him.

He groaned when he noticed, dramatically scooting away. “Stop it! You’re not going to win.”

“Might as well give it up now. You know you’re going to cave first.”

Sirius pouted, and you smiled, watching him intently. He looked tired. You grabbed the pillow next to you, tossing it into his lap. You laid back, letting your head rest against it.

He tensed up, raising his hands. “Is this not cheating?”

“It may be,” you smiled up at him. “But I’m not touching you, and you’re not touching me.”

“Feels like cheating.”

You groaned, sitting up. “It was a joke, darling. The pillow is for you, you look tired. Lay down.”

He grinned, tossing the pillow into your lap and laying his head down. You tried to hide your smile, letting him settle himself. Once he stilled, he looked up at you with unsure eyes. 

“What is it, love?” You asked, making him sigh. 

“This is remarkably less fun without your hand in my hair.”

You let out a laugh, nodding. “I agree. Should we do something about that?”

He said nothing, only gazing up at you. You took this time to look at him, really look at him. He was fucking stunning. So pretty, it actually hurt to look at him. And he was looking up at you with hazy eyes and pink cheeks, so adorable that you felt like you could burst into tears just looking at him. You were seconds away from caving, when he drew you from your thoughts.

It was his turn to ask now. “What is it?”

You sighed, hovering a finger just over the tip of his nose. “You’re beautiful, do you know that? So beautiful.” 

Sirius flushed a deeper pink, stilling as you ran your finger mere centimeters above his features. You traced them in the air, starting with his nose before moving to his eyes. Then over his cheekbones, and down to his chin. As you skimmed over his lips, Sirius let out a breath you didn’t know he was holding. 

“Don’t make a fuss,” he said, raising a hand. “Just let me do this.”

Gently, he took hold of your hand, pressing your finger down to meet his cheek. He sighed in relief, and you smiled, beginning to caress his face in the way you were desperate to just moments ago. You ran your thumb along his cheek, feeling his skin under your touch. Sirius reached for your free hand with his, intertwining your fingers.

“I’m so glad you did that,” you muttered as he held your hand.

“Why?”

“Because if you hadn’t broken first, I was seconds away from doing it myself,” you mused, moving your fingers from his face into his hair. “It’s a bit pathetic that we can't go more than a few hours without touching each other.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, closing his eyes as you began running your fingers through his hair. 

“No?”

“No. I love you, why shouldn’t I show it?”

You smiled, bending down to press a kiss into his hair. “I love you…even though you lost.”

“Fuck off,” Sirius laughed, reaching up to grab you by the shoulders, pulling you down into him. 

You laughed along with him, shifting down so that you were both laying down on the couch. You wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, pressing your face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, laying his cheek on top of your head. You relished in his touch, pressing yourself closer to him. 

“I vote we don’t fess up in the morning. I don’t want to give any of them the satisfaction. When they ask, we’ll call it a tie. Agreed?”

“You’d give up your bragging rights?” He asked, laughing when you slapped his arm. “Agreed, darling. Agreed.”

You leaned up to press a kiss into his shoulder, before settling back into his chest. “But I won…you’ll remember that, won’t you? You owe me something from Hogsmeade.”

You couldn’t see his smile, but you could hear it as he clutched you tighter to him. He stifled a laugh, feeling himself ease with you back in his arms. 

“Yes, my love. I’ll remember it.”

—

A/N - Hi! I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think!

[ifyouknowmenahyoudontt]

i miss soft remus

i miss smart james and sirius

i miss lily

i miss peter being acknowledged as part of the group

i miss when regulus was only part of "sirius' sucky family"

i miss the marauderettes ( they will pry marlene mary and dorcas out of my cold dead hands ) instead of slytherin skittles

i miss lily

i miss the fics about the marauders just after a full moon taking care of each other

i miss the pranks on slytherins fics

i miss the fix it fics where they're older and look back on how they used to be and either cringe or laugh

i miss the godric's hollow before That Night fics

i miss lily

i miss the sirius and james being brothers fics

i miss the fics of sirius the night he was on the potters' doorstep

i miss the summers at the potters' fics

i miss lily

i miss when people knew that james and sirius were dickhead bullies but grew up to be great men

i miss when people talked about andromeda and alphard and all the other people who were important to sirius and cast off the black family tapestry

i miss lily

i miss the wolfstar fics where sirius told james and james tries his hardest to get them together

i miss the jily fics where lily walks into a room and the other three marauders start mocking how james talks about her when she's not around

i miss lily

i miss the fics where lily had to realize her friend was a death eater and james was there for her

i miss the fics where they all raise harry together

i miss lily

this is so insanely real. lily evans the woman that you see this loser fandom does not deserve you.

all of this.word for word.

[samfucker]

darlin's unempowered friend hcs :3 also masc darlin oc mentioned A LOT! (who's surprised)

his name is trevor o'connor. he's half korean (mom's side) and was born in northern ireland, belfast specifically, before moving to america around the same time that julius (darlin) came to Dahlia, so they quickly became friends because they were both new and had no clue what to do with themselves

he moved away because his mom abandoned him and his dad and his dad, tiernan, didn't really know what to do with himself and moved to america where his brother was. (tiernan is a triplet!) his dad eventually remarried to charlotte and is now extremely happy. trevor loves char!! he has younger siblings from her (that sounds weird? idk how else to word it) and she's overall just one of those mothers that radiate sunshine but does NOT play abt her kids

julius has a bunch of nicknames for him. It went from Trevor to Trev to T to TT (Tee-tee) then titty then Mr. Titty. It's like when you give your dog a nickname and then it escalates into something completely different 

neither of these dudes can walk straight. widawee. like they bump into each other or walk in front of each other and get mad like "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE FUCKING GOING, WHAT ARE YOU DOING??"

they were both losers... they were both pretty boys, but losers. like if they were extroverts and didn't have interests that were considered "weird" then they probably would've been more popular in school

before moving to america, trevor forgot to break up with the girl he was dating so it looked like he literally just disappeared. one time during lunch at school trevor did a big ol sigh like "SIGHH.... man i miss my gf.." and julius was like WHAT r u even talking about......

one time he buzzed and bleached his hair and julius called him eminem for a week and a half before trevor got mad and made julius dye it silver, and when it grew out he had those like tiny little spikes with dark roots and he thought he was the SHIT (he was.)

allergic to pineapple 

dyslexic

his favourite number is 8. julius' is 7. 

after being attacked by quinn, trevor never blamed julius

julius tried to cook for him when he got discharged from the hospital and trevor was like "what... even is this.." 

he didn't eat it. julius ordered him something and ate his creation himself cus he hates wasting food

monster lover, julius is a redbull lover

trevor is also a WHORE for a dr. pepper

one time when they were 14, they tried feeding a stray dog which lead to julius being bitten HARDDD like this dog held on for dear life. afterwards, they hopped on trevor's bike and went to marie's. halfway there trevor asked if julius was okay and julius was just like "are you serious."

they always argue over shit like soccer vs football, chips vs fries, scone vs biscuit, etc. all julius can say to defend himself is "im not from this country."

once he was caught in a lie and trevor replied with "i have an accent, you don't know what i said."

do not have a srs talk around these two. they'll make eye contact and lose their shit

julius wanted to start a band and trevor was like dude we have literally no friends what are you talking about

they used to cuddle platonically all the time, especially when all the quinn shit was going on

trevor has horrendous handwriting. julius makes fun of him when his own handwriting isnt any better, but he defends himself by saying you can read it and that's all that matters

julius : i made u a friendship bracelet :3

trev; thats gay

julius: ok fuck u damn give me it back

trev: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO PLEAAAAAAAAAASE

trevor has a ginger little cat with one eye who's called pearce 

one time julius and trev's apartment building caught on fire cus of shitty wiring and julius had to sit outside in just baggy sweatpants and trevor was sitting out there on the curb in just underwear and a pair of slippers cus it was like 2am

julius: ur so annoyi-

trevor: UR APARTMENT BURNED DOWN!!!!!

even tho it was his apartment too and they literally lose half their shit to the fire

trevor's little sister made him mad one time and he told her the tooth fairy wasn't real

they worked together for a while and both got fired cus they both have anger issues and were also so unserious. like they'd end up on the floor with laughter mid shift.

he hated david for a long ass time. he'd refer to him as bitch boy. he loved asher tho and thought milo was a little too intimidated for a short guy (sassy man apocalypse.)

he has an eyebrow piercing and a few small tattoos, he's scared of needles but wanted to look cool

he didn't know about magic until he got attacked by quinn and was about to pass out from blood loss and he fully thought it was a hallucination. then julius came to him in the hospital like you'll never believe this...

EVER SINCE THEN, julius has no peace.

werewolf reaction pics. dog jokes. julius' birthday gift after trev found out was a squaky toy and on halloween he dressed up as the most cliche werewolf ever and said he was julius. (creds to aster). he used to call it transforming instead of shifting and julius would be like THATS NOT WHAT ITS CALLEDDDDDDDDDDDDD.

"man, im bored... wanna go play fetch?" "ur hairs getting long... i'll take u to the dog groomers." "do u want a pedigree??"

THIS IS KINDA WHAT TREV LOOKS LIKE!! (awooga booga *hearts pop out of my eyes and my tongue drops out of my mouth and rolls across the grounf like a red carpet)

also this pic (ik it doesn't look like my darlin oc or Trev) is so them

DAMN CAN I YAP!!!

tags - (i lurv u guys)

@achios @aurorialwolf @infinitelovewiithoutfulfilmentt @tgckceo @astrodude-87 @krashkitty @cozy-collins @professionallyyappinabtangst @porters-fangs @n0r

cus u guys eat up my hcs.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

mary on a cross - m. murdock

a/n: guys i am so down bad for him. like i need him desperately. what the hell is happening to me. matthew just one chance. also this is dedicated to my friend morgan and everyone who loves matt but he's pathetic and a loser. i also wrote the second half of this fic high. im sorry about that. warnings: mean!matt, loser!matt, relationship is kind of toxic, reader is disgustingly down bad, porn, fingering, dirty talk, lowkey embarrassment kink, use of pet names (baby, honey, pup), smut with an angsty ending, matt burns the reader in a mean way, reader has no description or pronouns but they do have female anatomy! word count: 3.1k summary: you're not sure if matt loves you.. or if he's even your boyfriend. pairing: mean!loser!matt murdock x reader now playing: mary on a cross - ghost "your beauty never ever scared me/mary on a, mary on a cross/if you choose to run away with me/i will tickle you intnernally/and i see nothing wrong with that"

You try to convince yourself that Matt is a good boyfriend.

He—

Wait.

Is he your boyfriend?

You tell yourself he’s your boyfriend, really you try to believe it because he is so damn gorgeous you cannot fathom that you actually have someone like him interested in you.

Really, it’s not like you’re particularly a catch anyways. You’ve only had one boyfriend before Matt, and he never wanted to do much with you other than kiss you. You bake brownies from a box, you have a horrible smoking habit, and you cry over every little thing.

You’re licking leftover brownie batter from the spoon when he knocks on the door. Of course, you answer it. You greet him with a grin.

“Hey, Matt. What’s up?” You lick some of the batter off the spoon, and you watch as his head tilts and his nose twitches. He looks sort of sad and far away, like he’s trying to come to terms with death, or maybe he’s just sad looking. Maybe he looks older than he is and you’ll never know him as young.

A pit in your stomach that sits there most of the day, rocking your conscious and insides back and forth like a storm over a sea becomes warm and light.

What you do know is that you have got to have him.

As you stick the spoon in your mouth to hold it there, Matt listens to the way the metal clatters against your teeth. He thinks about you biting down on his cross to keep you quiet.

“Missed you.” Is all he responds, stepping into your apartment. He notices the way your heart stutters at such a small comment, but he says nothing. He sheds his jacket, then his hat, and he’s just in a sweater and black jeans. “Do I smell brownies?” He almost gags at the artificial smell that accompanies the brownies.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been spending too much money on little treats on the way home from work, so.. Brownies.” You shrug, and he just nods. Your apartment is small, but he’s been here enough times, and often enough, to know the layout. It’s pretty much a studio.

Your bed sits in the corner of the main room. It’s just a few feet from the doorway, and to the right of it is a small tv on a night stand. It’s just far enough for you to use your bed as a couch. The nightstand hugs the right wall, which has three large windows on it. Most of the wall is a window.

Then, around the corner from the doorway is your kitchen, with a small dining room table in the center. Your bathroom is in the back of the kitchen, right next your washer-dryer unit (one of your favorite aspects of the apartment).

But your apartment is also kind of messy—Clothes scattered across the floor, an ashtray on the windowsill, dishes in the sink, a stack of papers and mail on your counter. Candles everywhere.

You move to light one, and Matt hears the flick of your lighter.

“Which candle are you lighting?”

“Uh, the eucalyptus one I like.”

“Light the vanilla one instead. It’ll go better with the brownie smell.” He tells you as he sits on your bed. His fingers find the soft silk sheets, a suggestion he had made when he first started coming around. He fiddles with the blankets he’s planning on fucking you on, but his head tilts when his hand finds an unfamiliar fabric. He listens as you light the candle, as he tries to identify what it is he’s found. When he picks it up, he hears a light jingle of a bell. Then, it clicks. A smirk plays on his face as he asks, “Who is this?” He asks, and your head snaps over to him.

Oh, god.

“Wait, no, give me that—” You lunge at him, but he holds the stuffed dog just out of reach. You’re attempting to climb over him to grab the dog, insistent that you might be able to be faster, or maybe stronger than him, as he shakes the stuffed dog, tempting you with the jingle of the bell.

“Aw, tell me her name,” He requests gently, holding you back easily with one hand. “tell me her name and I’ll give her back.” You’re not sure why, but you find yourself letting out an exasperated whine.

“Him!” You demand, still reaching.

Something about the way your desperation makes his face twitch with desire.

“Okay, tell me his name, and I’ll give him back.” You frown and glare at him.

“You’re being mean!” You tell him, and before you can stop it, tears prick your eyes. He smells the salt in the air. He needs you.

“Just tell me his name.” He tells you, “Then I make everything better.”

“Fuck you.” You find yourself saying, and his free hand grips your chin.

“Tell me his name.” He demands, his grip tight. You’re ready to get down on your knees.

A beat.

“..Jellybean.”

Jellybean was the one thing you allowed yourself of your old life when you moved to New York. A small keepsake of the person you once were, of the little kid who dreamed of a big city apartment, a fancy job, and a loving boyfriend who was kind to you. You usually kept him under your bed, hidden away from Matt and all the things that you have brought into your life.

Matt was never ever supposed to find him, you just.. got upset last night. You got lonely and reached for your childhood friend, holding him close. But, between work and making brownies when you got home, you forgot to put him away.

Now you’d deal with the consequences of it.

“Aw, Jellybean,” Matt laughs, leaning his head back. “A little pup..” He coos, and he moves it towards you and rubs the soft fabric of the dog over your skin, and his cock twitches at the way you squirm under his touch.

“Matt—” You start to object but he gently hushes you.

“Here. Take it, little pup.” He says, handing you the dog. You take it back and grip it hard for a few minutes before leaning away to tuck him under your bed. He just smirks, leaning back, leaning on his hands. When you’re done, you find yourself climbing onto his lap, and your lips find his.

He kisses you back, his hands coming up to your jaw. His rough hands caress your face with so much gentleness that it almost takes you back. His finger gently rubs the back of your ear, and you hum softly into the kiss. He pulls away just to smirk at you.

“You know, most puppies like it when they get their ears scratched—”

“Oh my god,” You huff, pulling away from him to go walk away. He grabs your wrist to pull you in for a kiss, but you pull away after a few moments. You turn towards your window and pull out a cigarette and your lighter before cracking open the window.

Matt frowns and gets up, going over to you as he listens to you flick the lighter. Without another word, he takes the lighter from you.

“You shouldn’t smoke.”

“Are you gonna give me the ‘it’s bad for you’ talk? I’ve heard it all.”

“No,” He tells you, “It’s much more selfish than that. You taste like cigarette smoke after you smoke, I don’t like it.” That is Matt’s polite way of telling you he thinks it’s absolutely fucking disgusting, and he has been trying to think of a way to tell you that he’d rather swallow nails than taste another cigarette.

“You won’t kiss me if I smoke?” You ask, and he just scoffs.

“If I tell you yes, will you stop?”

“I don’t know.”

“Here.” He flicks the lighter and lights the cigarette, but before you can even inhale the smoke, he plucks it from your lips. You frown, and go to protest, but before you can, he gently presses the lit cigarette into your wrist. He listens to you yell, whine and squirm.

“Matt! What the fuck?!” You whimper, tears filling your eyes. He flicks your cigarette onto the ashtray. His hand comes up to wipe your tears, and you are ashamed to say how easily you lean into his touch. Matt has never hurt you before, but you have a feeling he’s trying to teach you something.

“Does that hurt?” he asks, tilting his head. His voice has an echo of condescension.

“Yes! Yes, it fucking hurts you dick!” You’re mad at him now, and you step away from him.

“Well, lung cancer hurts a whole lot more.” He tells you. “C’mon.” he requests gently, taking your free hand to guide you to the sink in your kitchen. He turns the cold water ends and takes your hand to run it under the cold water. “Aw, poor baby,” he tries to tease but you just glare.

“You’re mean to me.” You tell him.

“I’m sorry.” He tells you gently, his thumb rubbing your skin gently. “Your habit is bad. Do you know what I want for you, little pup?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“What?” you quietly ask the man that dictates the quality of your life.

“I want you to live until you’re one hundred and one years old. I want you to marry someone who will be good to you, someone safe. I want you to have three or four, or even five children. I want you to die old and warm in your bed. And I want you to live that life healthily. Maybe one day you’ll even make brownies from scratch. But you won’t get that if you keep smoking.”

You want to ask him why he can’t be that man. You want him to tell you that he’ll be the one to give you three or four, or even five children. You want him to be the one to hold your hand as you die, old and warm and one hundred and one years old.

But as if he can read your thoughts and he doesn’t want you to ask, or maybe he doesn’t want to answer, and he continues before you can speak.

“The brownies are burning, little pup. Pull them out and let them cool.” He requests gently, leaning forward to kiss your head and then going back to your bedroom.

You decide to take the time to cool down, give him a bit of space. But you can’t be away from him long, so you find yourself climbing on top of him as he lays against your blankets. His hands find your sides, and you lean down to kiss him gently.

“Still mad at me?” He mumbles against your lips. You just hum into his lips, and before you can react, Matt flips the pair of you over, his hand going to your leg to gently caress your thigh, silently asking you—telling you to bend your leg around his torso. You do without hesitation.

He deepens the kiss, finding himself grinding against you, as your hands move to try and pull off his sweater. It’s thrown somewhere else, somewhere far far away. His hands begin to sneak up your top, and he relishes in the way you squirm with giggles.

“Matt—” You whine, and he hushes you gently.

“Be a good pup for me, huh?” He requests, and you nod before he kisses you quick. Then, his hands slip your shirt off, and he leans down, starting to plant kisses down your neck. Your fingers fumble at the waistline of his pants, and he quickly kicks them off before starting to work on the waistband of both your shorts and underwear.

He’s leaving little bites and marks across your skin as his hand finds your clit, rubbing small circles into your skin—Slow, agonizing circles. He’s mostly interested in hearing all your little noses and feeling you squirm against him.

Your fingers tug at his hair gently, relishing the feeling of his teeth grazing against your skin as your fingers threaten to pull his mouth right off of your skin.

When a finger slips inside of you, you start to moan but Matt’s hand comes around your skin. He gently squeezes, and you feel like you’re in fucking heaven. Well, you were in fucking heaven, but your boyfriend-maybe-not-boyfriend lives in a church basement. Maybe don’t bring up God while you’re fucking. Or.. maybe he’s into that.

He pulls his face away to come up and kiss you as one hand fingers you, and the other gently squeezes your neck. As his fingers—two now—pump in and out of you, he licks your limps and recalls his thought about you biting down on his cross. Then another embarrassing idea comes to mind. He pulls away from your kiss to ask,

“You wanna cum, pup?” He asks, and you just let out a soft whimper of a moan. “Aw, I know.. Beg me. He asks.

“Fu—Matt, please.. Baby, please I wanna cum so bad.. Pretty please..” You breath out.

Matt smirks softly.

“Then bark.”

The question takes you out of it just for a moment.. But only for a moment.

“Stop being mean—”

“Oh, stop, I’m not being mean,” He tells you. He kisses you gently, “Just bark for me like a good puppy.” He requests, and your face is flushed. If only your good Christian parents back home could see their baby now, giving barks in exchange for an orgasm.

You bark quietly at first. But your boy is cruel.

“Honey, I can’t hear you,” he says, and you want to bite him because he somehow always fucking hears you. When you bark a little louder,  he just smirks against your lips, “Go on, puppy, let go for me.” He purrs, and you do not need to be told twice. Your legs begin to shake as his pace slows down gently.

He’s not always the nicest, but Matt knows you. Maybe better than anyone ever has. And damn if the man doesn’t know how to make you cum, doesn’t literally make you see stars. Oh, Matthew.. He is like the stars. Oh, so tempting.

After you take a few minutes to breath through your high, you look to the man whose phone number you do not know, and you feel like you’re melting, right under his touch.

And the man whose phone number you do not know and a last name that eludes you, gently presses his lips against your head after aggressively fingering,

“Ready to keep going, pup?” He asks sweetly, and you just grin at him.

“Totally.” You purr. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips. Then, he slowly slips into you, and you let out a gentle groan, leaning in so that your lips touch his. His pace starts out slow. He leans down and kisses the skin next to the burn scar from earlier.

Your fingers gently claw at his skin, and with that, his pace quickened, his grip on your thigh tight as he thrust everything into you—all of his frustrations, fears, trauma into you.

“Fuck…” You groan.

“I know, pup..” he huffs happily intro your ear.

And then you can’t keep it in. You’ve been slowly growing addicted to him. You cannot think straight. You immediately know you’ll regret it every day until you die.

“I love you.”

His pace does not slow, it does not stop, it barely stutters as his pace keeps on you. The only reaction you get is his hand moving down to massage your clit, and before you know it you’re clenching around his cock. His fingers massage faster, and without more effort than that, Matt bites down on your neck as the two of you cum at almost the same time.

Slowly, he lays down, right on top of you. He leans forward and kisses your head gently, before he lays his head down on your chest. You cradle him for a few minutes. When his breathing finally slows and his sweat stops..

Then, Matt sits up, and rubs his eyes gently. He slips on his boxers, taking a moment to tilt his head, listening to your heartbeat. He slips on his socks as he breaks that heart in the next six words he says.

“We can’t see each other anymore.”

You stop, sitting up.

“Wait, what?” You ask, baffled. Matt focuses on finding his pants.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

“Wait,” You grab one of his tee shirts and your shorts and slip them on. “Wait, is it—is it because I said I love you?” You question. “Because.. Because I didn’t mean it! That wasn’t an ‘I love you’ I love you, that was-  that was a mistake, a ‘stupid middle-of-sex’ I love you!”

He moves to slip his sweater on and you grab his arm like a child clawing to their parents leg as you get dragged off to your first day of school. He says your name gently, like he’s laying you to bed.

“I just.. it can’t happen, okay?” He mumbles, as he manages to lace up his shoes. You fumble out of the bed and grab his shoulders, then his jaw.

“Matt, please, I fucking promise, I don’t love you!” You whimper, tears running down your face. Matt leans forward and kisses your head gently. “Matt. I don’t love you.”

He doesn’t need his heightened senses to know you’re lying.

“I’m sorry, pup.” He says quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Matt..” You say quietly, as he moves to get his jacket and hat, not bothering to put them on as he opens the door and grabs his cane. You make one desperate attempt to pull him back into your apartment, tears clouding your vision.

He doesn’t say anything. He just pulls away from you and closes the door behind himself.

He’s a shitty boyfriend. He always has been, even before that building fell on him. Never enough time for them, always off at work or being Daredevil.

But he has a sneaking suspicion that he’s hit a record low as he walks towards the entrance of the apartment, trying to drown out your sobs.

[piratekane]

Their phones go off at the same time, a tiny ding that echoes across their apartment. Mary frowns at Shannon’s phone, Shannon frowns at Mary’s, and they both reach at the same time.

“Beatrice,” Mary reads off Shannon’s phone.

Shannon turns Mary’s phone right side up and purses her lips. “Ava.”

Mary groans and lets her head fall back against the couch. “What did they get themselves into this time?”

Shannon pats her leg gently before she steals a chip right out of the bag Mary is still clutching. She throws one back, mouth puckering at the salt and vinegar taste. “Between the two of them? It could be anything.”

Mary blindly thumbs her passcode out and the screen brightens. Shannon opens her messages app. 

Their larger group message - F is for friends who do things together - sits towards the top of Shannon’s messages list, just below the other group message that lists her, Lilith, and Beatrice as its only members. 

Mary’s messages also has a group message named lilith stop changing the group name back to something boring between her, Ava, and Lilith.

“On three?”

They both open their individual messages at the same time. Mary hums something unintelligible. Shannon frowns.

“Ava went-”

“-on a date.”

Shannon leans over to read Mary’s screen.

Ava (8:41 PM): halp i went on a date

Bea (8:41 PM): Ava went on a date last week.

“Did you-”

“-know Ava was seeing someone?” Mary shakes her head. “Did you-”

“-know Ava was interested in seeing anyone?” Shannon shakes her head this time.

Mary hums again, interest piqued. She abandons the bag of chips, brushing her hand off on her dark jeans. Shannon absently reaches over and brushes the crumbs onto the floor. They can vacuum later. When Mary cradles her phone and sinks back against the couch again, Shannon follows her, pulling her legs up under herself as she leans into Mary’s side.

“What are you going to say?”

Mary regards her. “What are you going to say?”

Shannon shrugs. “I’m going to ask Beatrice who the date was with.”

“I’m going to ask Ava that too.”

It’s a race to see who can text back first, and Mary beats Shannon by a few strikes of her thumb against the glass screen. Shannon pulls Mary’s phone over so she can read it.

Mary (8:43 PM): who?

“Who?” she reads. “That’s all you said?”

Mary shrugs, unbothered. “What did you say?”

Shannon (8:43 PM): Who did she go out with?

“I used a full sentence.”

“It’s texting, babe. Full sentences are for-” Mary stops when Shannon arches an eyebrow in a challenge. She smiles, all teeth. “Full sentences are for losers.”

“This loser makes your dinner,” Shannon reminds her.

Mary is still grinning. “I can dial a phone, you know. A whole world of food, right at my fingertips. Besides, don’t pretend like I don’t make a mean chili.” She nods knowingly when Shannon rolls her eyes. “That’s half the reason you’re in love with me, admit it.”

“Yeah, the other half is because of your humility.” Shannon doesn’t bother softening it and Mary laughs. “So humble.”

Mary’s next words are swallowed up by the ding of her phone, Shannon’s phone is half a second behind.

“Who is JC?” Mary asks.

“Someone in Ava’s biology class,” Shannon answers, reading off her phone. “At least, I’m assuming? Bea said Ava went out with someone from her biology class.”

Mary snorts. “Figures that if Ava isn’t giving me all the pieces, Bea is giving the rest to you.”

Shannon smacks Mary’s knee gently. “Don’t be mean. She’s trying.”

“Who, Bea?”

“Ava.”

Mary shakes her head, hiding the smile on her face. “She’s something, that’s for sure.”

Shannon snorts. “Don’t pretend like that kid isn’t one of your favorite people. You have a terrible poker face.” 

Mary’s smile sours into a meaningless scowl. “No, I don’t.” She pulls her phone away from Shannon and thinks for a minute.

Mary (8:44 PM): scale of 1 to 10.

“That’s what you’re going with?” Shannon’s fingers hover over the phone, thinking. “A hotness scale?” 

Mary shrugs. “What’re you going to say?”

“Well I’m not going to ask if he’s cute.”

Mary shrugs again. “Of course not. Bea doesn’t care if he’s hot or not.” She nods at Shannon’s phone. “What’ve you got, Masters?”

“I’ve got a girl in love with her best friend at the other end of these messages. So I need to be… delicate.” 

Mary softens when Shannon looks back at her. “I know.” 

She watches as Shannon turns back to her phone, forehead wrinkling in thought.

Shannon (8:44 PM): How do you think that went?

Satisfied, Shannon sinks further into Mary’s side, warm and soft. Mary smiles, her hand curling around Shannon’s knee, pressing gently against a scar left behind after an ACL tear when she was younger.

They’ve always slotted together so perfectly. They knew it from the moment they met, two terrified freshmen on a large campus with no friends. The study sessions, the lunch breaks between classes. When Shannon finally leaned in, finally curled her fingers around Mary’s jaw and closed her eyes, they each felt something click. A world opened up. Study sessions turned into makeout sessions. Lunch breaks that felt like dates became actual dates. 

Mary had been looking for a home for years. She finally knew what it was like to have one.

Shannon walks her fingers over Mary’s knee. “Do you think they realize we’re sitting right next to each other? I feel like they don’t—otherwise they wouldn’t be talking to us about this.”

Mary shrugs. “It’s Tuesday. You usually work on Tuesday nights. So I’m sure Bea thinks you’re just killing time on your shift, and Ava assumes I’m looking for some kind of entertainment.” 

“Is this entertaining for you?”

Mary grins. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Their phones beep almost simultaneously.

Ava (8:44 PM): mid-8 nice smile

Bea (8:44 PM): She said it wasn’t groundbreaking.

“Groundbreaking,” Mary repeats. “Ava said it wasn’t groundbreaking?”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Shannon shrugs and reaches for the bag of chips again. She doesn’t like salt and vinegar, but she’s also committed to not getting up for anything short of an apocalypse. “Beatrice doesn’t usually misquote people, though.”

Mary makes a face. “Kid surprises me every day.” She hums quietly.

Mary (8:45 PM): and it took you this long to tell me?

Ava (8:45 PM): okay in my defense Ava (8:45 PM): no i’ve got nothing

Mary (8:46 PM): what happened?

She knows Ava. Something had to have happened for her to bring this up. Because she probably buried a terrible date, said forget about it, and focused on other things. Like her next iced coffee. Or Bea.

Ava (8:46 PM): we ran into JC at dinner tonight Ava (8:46 PM): it was weird Ava (8:46 PM): bea has been idk  Ava (8:46 PM): quiet 

Mary snorts. “No shit,” she says out loud. But her brow wrinkles in concern.

Mary (8:46 PM): was he a dick?

Ava (8:47 PM): no, definitely not he’s really nice

Mary nods to herself. Good. Because she’s been short on gym sessions this week, and she could go a few rounds with someone to make up for the difference. Shannon nudges her, catching her attention. “Right. Okay.”

Mary (8:47 PM): going out again?

Shannon rolls her eyes. “You’re so verbose.”

“Don’t be using those million dollar words on me. We’re not all in school for this kind of stuff.”

“Ha.” Shannon elbows Mary gently, soothing the sting of it with a quick press of her lips to Mary’s shoulder. “This kind of stuff is just talking to people, Mary. It’s not limited to just future social workers.”

“Maybe I’m not good at that.”

“I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

“Well I think-” Mary cuts off when Shannon’s elbow digs into her side again. She huffs. “Fine. We’re both incredible. I can already see the headlines when you win social worker of the year.”

“That’s not actually a thing,” Shannon points out.

Mary’s face softens, her eyes going somewhere far away for a moment. “It should be. Could have used someone like you when I was in the system.” Shannon’s hand spreads out against Mary’s thigh, warm and weighted. Mary meets Shannon’s eyes, a hesitant smile on her face. “But I know you’ll make sure they’ve got it better than I did.”

“Of course,” Shannon promises quietly.

For a long moment, the air stills between them. Shannon can picture Mary in her freshman year - hard-headed and brash and walls pulled up to her chin. She’s still hard-headed, still brash. But the walls are knee-height now and crumbling every day as Mary lets herself breathe, surrounded by their friends. 

Mary finally smiles and squeezes Shannon’s knee, pouring a thousand unsaid words into her touch. She wants Shannon to know that she saved her life, but sometimes the words don’t come out the right way. So she puts it into touch and hopes that Shannon gets it.

Bea (8:48 PM): Shannon? You still there?

Shannon blinks, the world rushing back in on her. Ava, Bea. Their back and forth high wire act where each of them are afraid to fall - even if Ava doesn’t know that yet.

Shannon (8:48 PM): Sorry, just needed a moment. Shannon (8:48 PM): Does a date need to be groundbreaking?

Bea (8:48 PM) According to Ava, it’s a requirement.

“Want takeout tonight?” Mary asks as they wait. She opens her mouth but the words are cut off as her phone goes off.

Ava (8:48 PM): no, no more dates for me. he’s nice but it’s not groundbreaking

Mary holds up her phone. “Guess Bea wasn’t kidding.”

“Told you,” Shannon says, preening only a little bit. 

Mary (8:49 PM): that’s a lot of expectation going into a first date

Ava (8:49 PM): can’t i have a great romance?

Mary pauses. Of course Ava deserves a great romance. But what is that, exactly? Because she’s sat through movie nights with Ava, people-watched with Ava. She knows Ava thinks The Notebook is romantic and that’s toxic as hell. She knows Ava thinks the two guys who sit under the tree at the quad and share a single iced coffee is romantic, and that’s just gross. 

She knows Ava thinks what she has with Shannon is romantic, and she’s not wrong about that.

“Ask Bea what Ava thinks is ‘groundbreaking’,” she instructs Shannon. She’s curious what the rating system is here.

Shannon (8:49 PM): What does Ava think is groundbreaking? 

Bea (8:49 PM): Leaving the orphanage. Meeting us.

Mary shakes her head. “No way Ava didn’t actually say ‘meeting Beatrice.”

Shannon (8:50 PM): Are you sure she didn’t mean meeting you?

Mary raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Nice and direct there, Masters. I thought you were being delicate.” 

Shannon shrugs and waits patiently for Bea’s response. Sometimes Bea reminds her of the fawn she came across once as a child. Skittish, awkward limbs everywhere as it tried to find its footing and run. But when Shannon approached it, hand out and open, it let her get close. It took a few minutes, Shannon suspended in the middle of the woods. But it slowly approached her and let her touch it, nuzzling into her hand. Beatrice can be like that: skittish, but seeking out comforting touches.

She always thought that it was the best way to approach Bea: slowly, hand open. Ava proved her wrong, crash-landing into Bea’s life with a gracelessness that was endearing from the very beginning. Maybe Bea just needed the right person to cut through her trepidation and bring her out of her shell.

“You can be delicate and still be direct. It just has to be a precision hit,” she replies.

“Hammer vs scalpel,” Mary says nodding. It’s just funny because she and Shannon are always so careful around Bea, whereas Ava always seems to need more of a blunt punch of truth. 

Speaking of which. Okay, so if that’s what Ava thinks…Mary cycles through things in her mind. How does she go about this? If meeting Bea was groundbreaking, then a great romance has to be the same thing. Synonymous, like Mary and Shannon. Her eyes flutter closed as she thinks. Maybe Shannon has a point on blending her approach. 

Ava always thought that mopey girl meeting the vampire was a great romance. And she knows this, but Ava has terrible taste in movies. She really needs to watch something of substance. Like Love and Basketball. But she can work with this.

Mary (8:50 PM): thought great romances were reserved for your vampire book

Mary has a plan. She’s easing Ava into a conversation. Because Mary knows that Ava wants a great romance. More importantly, she deserves it. She just might not know that she wants - and deserves it - with Beatrice.

Their phones ding in double time, the replies chasing after each other. 

Bea (8:51 PM): I’m sure she meant ‘us’ and not me.

Ava (8:51 PM): bella isn’t the only one who deserves a sparkly love interest

Mary puts her phone down for a moment. “How are we doing this?”

Shannon thinks about it for a minute. “I’m not sure,” she admits.

Mary sighs. “Ava can be as dense as that meatloaf you made once and - hey! It was!” She ducks the hand Shannon sends towards her shoulder. “I just mean, she’s either sitting behind a huge wall named Denial, or she really doesn’t get it. So we need to, like, be smart about this.” She sighs. “Why are we doing this?”

“Because Lilith would do a horrible job at it?”

Mary snorts. “You got that right.”

At least Ava knows she deserves happiness. Kid hasn’t had a lot of love in her life, with the raw deal she got growing up. Mary knows something about that. So maybe Ava doesn’t need a delicate touch, but a little positive reinforcement and reassurance that she does deserve love from someone who gets it doesn’t hurt.

Mary (8:53 PM) no kid, you do too

“Bea is just as bad.” Shannon holds up her phone. “I know for a fact that Ava said Bea and not us, but she’s going to pretend like that isn’t true because that means she has to face a reality where Ava feels the same way about her as she does about Ava.”

“Maybe you should have gone into psychology.”

Shannon makes a face. “Absolutely not.” 

Shannon (8:53 PM): Bea. Even if she didn’t say you, you’re allowed to want her to have.  Shannon (8:53 PM): And if she did, you’re allowed to acknowledge what that means.

Bea (8:54 PM): I’m not sure what it means.

Shannon groans as she reads Bea’s response. She takes a deep, steadying breath. She loves Beatrice. She’s loved her from the minute they crossed paths in their English seminar - a sophomore level class that Bea tested into. But for someone so smart, she sometimes tends to miss signs right in front of her face. 

No, Shannon thinks. She can read the signs. But the years with her parents… Maybe she just doesn’t want to see them. Maybe she doesn’t trust them. Maybe she just needs a little nudge.

Shannon (8:55 PM): I think you know what it means.

Mary breaks her concentration as she reads Ava’s text out loud, forehead pinched in thought. 

Ava (8:55 PM): i just don’t know if i’ll get it.

Mary sighs. “Are we sure Lilith can’t do this?” She goes to text back, but three grey dots pop up before she can, so she waits.

Ava (8:55 PM): but i think Ava (8:55 PM): i think i realized something

She shoves her phone under Shannon’s nose, all thoughts of Lilith taking over flying out of her mind. “Babe.”

Shannon’s reply is swallowed up by Bea’s next message. 

Bea (8:56 PM): Correction: I don’t think I’m allowed to want it to mean what I think it means.

Shannon sighs. “Oh, Bea.”

Mary doesn’t hear her, too wrapped up as she frantically types, backspaces, types, and backspaces again. “Do I play dumb?” she asks herself. “Or do I just say finally?” She types something out and erases it one more time before she sends something.

Mary (8:56 PM): what’s that?

Shannon (8:57 PM): And in a perfect world, what do you want it to mean?”

Three grey dots pop up on Mary’s screen and linger there long enough that Mary puts her phone down and picks through her bag of chips until she finds one big enough that when she fits the whole thing in her mouth, she has to blow out her cheeks to keep it in there. Shannon makes a noise of mild disgust.

Shannon’s phone beeps first. 

Bea (8:58 PM): I think you know.

Shannon (8:58 PM) Lightning won’t strike you down if you say it.

“Might,” Mary mumbles through a mouthful of chips. Shannon’s eyes cut to her. “What? You know Bea is thinking it.” 

Shannon can’t really argue with that, so she doesn’t try. She just waits for Bea’s response, which comes quicker than she thought it might. 

Bea (8:59 PM): I want her to mean that I’m groundbreaking.

“Atta girl,” Shannon whispers to herself.

Shannon (8:59 PM): You are.

Mary’s phone finally beeps. 

Ava (8:59 PM): i was thinking about it and Ava (8:59 PM): bea is groundbreaking, you know?

Mary (9:00 PM): obviously

It’s a gut reaction, but Mary texts back before she can stop herself. She almost follows it up with something softer to cut the edge off it. 

But she’s been watching Ava trip over herself the last few months and honestly, it’s a bit exhausting to not want to sit her down and bop her over the head with a printed book of all the texts Ava has sent her talking about how Bea looks today, or what Bea said today, or how she wants to do something, but has to check with Bea first.

The book would cost her an insane amount of money to print and it would be bigger than the Shakespeare text she uses as a door stopper since she spilled orange juice on it and can’t sell it back.

Ava (9:00 PM): what do you mean obviously?! Ava (9:00 PM): mary Ava (9:00 PM): mARY Ava (9:00 PM): what does THAT mean?!

Mary stifles a laugh, lets a sigh slip through, and closes her phone. She lets her head fall to the back of the couch and takes a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Mary’s phone goes off again, beep after beep after beep after beep. She doesn’t dare pick it up. 

Shannon picks up Mary’s phone, types in the passcode, and chuckles as she catches up on Ava’s messages. “You really shouldn’t have.”

Then her own phone dings, catching her attention.

Bea (9:02 PM) But I’m not sure she really feels that way. Surely, she would say something.

“Do you ever want to wrap them up in, like, the world’s tightest hug?” Shannon asks.

“Sometimes I want to wrap them to a post and leave them there until they figure their shit out.”

Mary’s phone goes off again and she picks it up this time, opening her messages.

Ava (9:02 PM): there’s nothing OBVIOUS about it Ava (9:02 PM): it’s rude actually Ava (9:02 PM): to say something like that and just NOT ANSWER UR MESSAGES Ava (9:02 PM): Mary pick up your phone. Ava (9:01 PM): at least when i told bea it wasn’t groundbreaking she didn’t go RADIO SILENT Ava (9:01 PM): in fact we went out for coffee because i got bea one but Ava (9:01 PM): wait

Mary smiles slowly. There it is.

Shannon glances at Mary, most of her attention still on her conversation with Bea. She’s making headway, she can feel it. Bea at least admitting that Ava could maybe feel the same way about her is step one. Step two is getting Bea to just say it out loud.

Shannon (9:03 PM): She can’t say something if she doesn’t know.

Bea (9:03 PM): I certainly can’t tell her.

Mary reads over her shoulder. “She certainly should. Because it would save all of us a lot of trouble.”

Ava (9:04 PM): Mary.

Mary (9:04 PM): Ava

“How do you tell someone that the person they’re hopelessly in love with is hopelessly in love with them? Asking for a friend.”

Shannon ignores her.

Shannon (9:05 PM): Bea, you don’t need to tell her right now. Shannon (9:05 PM): But you should think about it.

“What do you think the odds are that they’re sitting next to each other on the couch right now?”

Shannon snorts. “That sounds exactly like something they would do.”

“Picture it,” Mary continues. “Sitting on opposite ends of the couch but you know Ava’s got her feet all over Bea which is disgusting. And they’re probably having a charged conversation where they talk about the weather being nice, but Ava is really talking about Bea’s eyes or whatever. And they’re just… texting us about each other.”

Shannon laughs this time. “How did we end up like this? Mom-ing two helplessly in-love-with-each-other - and I say this affectionately - idiots?”

“I must have really pissed someone off in a past life.” 

Ava (9:05 PM): bea IS groundbreaking

Mary (9:05 PM): you’re repeating yourself

Ava (9:05 PM): i’ve always thought so

Mary (9:06 PM): i’m not going to argue with you

Mary leans into Shannon’s side. “Be honest. They would benefit from some professional help, wouldn’t they?” She dodges Shannon’s hand again. “Or at least someone like Camila. If Ava wants to go for a drink or throw some darts or fix an engine, I can do that.”

“Okay dad,” Shannon snorts.

Bea (9:07 PM): I can’t think about it. Because if I think about it, I’m going to tell her. And if I tell her and she doesn’t say it back, I don’t know what I’ll do.

Shannon (9:07 PM): You’ll do what you always do. Persevere.  Shannon (9:07 PM): But I don’t think you’ll need to.

Mary’s screen lights up with a text that she thinks about ignoring. She shouldn’t have opened this box, shouldn’t have pried at the lock that held back this little revelation. She should have just said it was nice that Ava went on a date and left it at this JC guy being an 8. She should have put down her phone and focused on wowing Shannon with the pico de gallo she managed to make earlier.

Ava (9:07 PM): she’s my favorite person, full offense

Mary (9:08 PM): like that’s going to offend me. i’m shannon’s

Ava (9:08 PM): do you think i’m bea’s

Mary drops her phone. “Nope. I’m not doing this.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Shannon picks up the abandoned phone and scrolls back a few messages, eyes tracking the conversation. She laughs at Ava’s last message, before handing the phone back to Mary. “Ava loves fishing for compliments, doesn’t she?”

“She’s fishing in the wrong pond,” Mary retorts, punching out a quick response. 

Mary (9:09 PM): focus, silva

“She should try the other side of her couch.”

Shannon glances at her own phone and considers what the person sitting on the other side of Ava’s couch is thinking at this very moment. A minute stretches on with nothing from Bea. Shannon starts to worry her bottom lip between her teeth. 

She’s not trying to push. But Bea deserves something amazing to happen to her. And they can all - even Mary - admit that Ava is the most amazing thing that’s happened to Beatrice.  A needed respite for all the ways the world has let Bea down in the past. She nearly drops her phone in relief when it goes off.

Bea (9:11 PM): I’m not ready.

Shannon (9:11 PM): No one is ever ready for love.

Bea (9:12 PM): What if I never am?

There’s a fluttering in Shannon’s chest where her heart skips a beat at Bea’s text. Bea is so much more ready than she thinks she is, Shannon knows it. But she also knows that Bea’s parents run deep in her mind and that’s hard to overcome. It doesn’t matter, though. If she knows anything about Ava, she knows that her patience with Bea is neverending.

Shannon (9:13 PM): Someone who loves you won’t worry about that. Someone who loves you will want you to take your time, if that’s what you need. Love isn’t linear, Bea.

Three dots appear on her screen for a long moment before they disappear. Shannon takes a deep breath and hopes she hasn’t pushed it. 

Needing something else to do, she peers at Mary’s phone. “Are you-” 

A beep cuts her off.

Ava (9:13 PM): right. but if SHE’S groundbreaking that means…

“She’s going to be the death of me,” Mary groans.

Mary (9:13 PM): that means…

Ava (9:14 PM): hypothetical question Ava (9:14 PM): how do you know if you’re in love with your best friend or not?

“Finally!!”

“Mary,” Shannon scolds.

Mary (9:14 PM) i’m sure there’s a buzzfeed quiz for that

“Mary.”

Ava (9:15 PM): mary 

Mary (9:15 PM): ava 

Ava (9:15 PM): i’m serious

Mary (9:16 PM) so am i  Mary (9:17 PM): but if you don’t want to dig through the internet to find one Mary (9:17 PM): let me tell you what your results would be Mary (9:17 PM): you are

Shannon’s phone goes off and she mistypes her passcode twice before she manages to get it open. Mary leans over, hooking her chin on Shannon’s shoulder to read the message with her.

Bea (9:18 PM): She deserves someone who isn’t afraid to be in love with her.

“That’s not fair,” Mary says quietly. “That’s not fair to her.”

Shannon frowns. “To Ava?”

“To Bea.”

Shannon (9:19 PM): You’re not afraid to be in love with her. You’re afraid of the world around your love. Your parents did a number on you, Bea. That takes time to get over.

Their phones go quiet for a while. So long that Mary gets up and puts away the chips, and Shannon tidies up the kitchen. They decide on getting Thai for dinner because Ava sent them a Snapchat of her leftovers this morning with Bea in the background wearing a disapproving face. Ava had captioned it: she doesn’t like it when i eat over the sink.

By the time she finishes setting out the plates for dinner, Mary is just about to give up on her conversation with Ava. It’s stalled out. Ava will swing by before her class tomorrow for pancakes at the student cafeteria, and they’ll talk about whatever Ava is obsessed with this week - last week it was the manatees she saw in a video when she was supposed to be studying for an exam. They’ll pretend like this never happened, like Ava didn’t come to some big revelation on a Tuesday night in the middle of February while Mary is in her socks with the little handcuffs on them.

She likes that idea. That works best for her. But just as she thinks it, her phone beeps.

Ava (9:31 PM): i am?

Mary (9:31 PM): do you not know that?

“Shannon, help me,” Mary groans, even as she starts texting back. 

Ava (9:32 PM): there’s a lot i’m realizing i don’t know right now

“Go fucking figure,” she mutters. Her fingers fly over the keyboard.

Mary (9:32 PM): let me break it down for you. you went out with this guy last week?

Ava (9:32 PM): tuesday yeah

Mary (9:33 PM): and it was okay Mary (9:33 PM): it wasn’t groundbreaking or earth-shattering or anything that totally rocked your world Mary (9:33 PM): but your best friend is someone who checks all those boxes?

There’s another long pause, another minute of three gray dots dancing on her screen before Ava’s text pops up in its place.

Ava (9:35 PM): you’ve met her

Mary (9:36 PM): but i don’t think the sun shines out of her ass Mary (9:36 PM): and she’s one of my best friends, but i don’t know if i’d call her earth-shaking or whatever  Mary (9:37 PM): because i’m not in love with her.  Mary (9:37 PM): i don’t spend every moment talking to her or about her or wishing i could do those things Mary (9:38 PM): but you…

Mary glances at Shannon but she’s too busy, bent over her phone. She doesn’t even notice the eye roll that Mary sends her phone. Or the tongue she sticks out. Or that she immediately goes to her internet browser, finds the picture she’s looking for, and saves Ava’s new contact image as a clown.

Across the room, Shannon sits back on the couch and stares intently at her screen, willing a message to come through even as it remains blank. She sends out a quiet prayer to whoever is listening that Beatrice allows herself to give into this feeling, to let herself feel like she deserves this kind of love. 

Finally, a bubble pops up.

Beatrice (9:39 PM): I should be over it.

Shannon frowns.

Shannon (9:39 PM): Show me the person who says you should be over it.

Beatrice (9:39 PM): I’m afraid I’d be looking in a mirror.

“Oh, Bea,” Shannon breathes. She has to take a minute. She has to breathe in slowly and count to 7 before she exhales and counts to 11, and in between those spaces she feels her heart break just a little bit.

Shannon (9: 40 PM): Then cover your mirrors and come talk to me instead.

Satisfied with her clown selection, Mary plops down next to Shannon and switches back to her conversation with Ava. She realizes she’s just dropping bomb after bomb right now, throwing them like firecrackers and imagining Ava dance around them. She can practically see them exploding in Ava’s eyes as Mary’s words rearrange what Ava had thought before this conversation.

This is big. This is Mary holding up a mirror to Ava’s face and telling her to look at the truth. Part of her knows she’s going to regret this. If Ava didn’t shut up about Bea before, now that Mary has said something, has opened the proverbial door… God, she’s going to be so annoying.

Ava (9:41 PM): there’s so much to say about her though Ava (9:41 PM): she’s funny and she’s insanely intelligent Ava (9:41 PM): and she’s the first person i want to talk to when something good happens Ava (9:42 PM): or something bad Ava (9:42 PM): or something funny  Ava (9:42 PM): oh. Ava (9:42 PM): shit. 

Something occurs to Mary, and she closes her messages, opening her phone’s calendar. She scrolls back a week and her eyes widen as she reads the date.

Mary (9:43 PM): girl, i just checked the calendar. you went out with this guy on valentine’s day?!

Ava (9:43 PM): i didn’t notice!

Mary (9:43 PM): and THEN you went home and took BEA out for coffee?

Ava (9:44 PM): which wasn’t a date

Mary (9:44 PM): from the sounds of it, coulda fooled me

Mary nearly throws her phone but the only place for it to go is over Shannon’s legs onto the other couch cushion. 

And Shannon has that look on her face like she wants to cry or scream or do both, so Mary’s priorities shift. She puts the phone down on the table and turns, sliding one arm across Shannon’s shoulders and rubs her fingers against the bone there.

“Hey,” she murmurs. “You okay?”

“I don’t know why she’s so hard on herself.” Shannon sighs. “I mean, I know why she is. And if I ever meet her parents-”

“There’s a line, I know.”

“And I’m at the front of it.”

Mary smiles humorlessly. “I think you might be second.”

“Good,” Shannon murmurs. “Bea needs as many people in her life as she can get.”

“Who she has is a good place to start.” Mary rubs at Shannon’s shoulder again and leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her head.

Bea (9:46 PM): Ava says that sometimes, she wishes she could fight my mind for me.

Shannon (9:46 PM): I think you should let her.

Bea (9:47 PM): I think she would win.

Shannon (9:47 PM): Good Shannon (9:47 PM): It’s because she loves you, Beatrice.

Bea (9: 48 PM): I’m worried that, if she ever did, that feeling would be long gone before I was ready.

Mary shifts away as Shannon focuses on her phone, tongue poked out between her teeth as she starts a long message. It’s been a minute since Ava texted her back. A long time for Ava, who fires off texts as quickly as her thoughts come. But this whole conversation has been filled with pauses. It’s a different side of Ava.

It’s an Ava who had the world shift and is now dealing with the fallout. Mary gets it.

But she wonders, is deciding to be in a relationship so hard for other people? 

Because it wasn’t hard for her. It was probably one of the easiest things she’s ever done in her life. It happened so naturally, so - what’s the word Camila says? Organically. She’s so in love with Shannon, even if she shrugs it off when people poke fun at her for it. She’s not above telling anyone how much Shannon means to her, but she is better at showing it. 

Acts of service, Camila told her, when they did some stupid quiz where they asked about love languages. She hadn’t even known there were so many of them. She always thought she was just kind of okay at loving Shannon. Turns out, she was doing better than she thought, giving Shannon what it seemed like she wanted and needed. And once she figured it out, it happened as naturally as their relationship did. Maybe they just got lucky to have it so easy. 

Her phone beeps and Mary rolls her eyes at Ava’s message. Or maybe she and Shannon were just smart enough to use their damn words.

Ava (9:48 PM): do you think she’d want to go out with me?

Mary (9:48 PM): i don’t get paid enough for this conversation.

Ava (9:49 PM): my friendship is payment enough

Shannon hears Mary huff, feels the air across her shoulder. But she’s too busy to turn and give her the attention, too focused to hear about whatever thing Ava said that made Mary feel like she needed to pretend to be annoyed. Because she’s trying to come up with something to make Bea understand that she is worth all the praise people bestow on her. She’s so brave, so committed to healing the wounds her parents etched into her.

Bea needs to know that despite them, she is coming into who she deserves to be. And she’s got someone she deserves to love within her reach.

Shannon (9:51 PM): Anyone who is worth your time will understand and hold that space for you until you’re ready for something so big. You ARE making progress, Bea. I remember you as a freshman, so afraid of your own shadow. And now you’re bold and strong. You’ve come so far. And Ava has been a big part of that. She’s brought out this part of you that everyone knew you had, but you were too afraid to show. Shannon (9:52 PM): She’s good for you.

And before Bea can say anything, Shannon texts her again.

Shannon (9:52 PM): I know you’d be good for her too.

Shannon bites her lip and thinks before she types out, “You should tell her how you feel. She won’t say no.” But she stops and erases it. Maybe it’s too much for Bea to handle right now. Maybe she needs to slow down.

But another part of her, a voice that whispers excitedly in her ear and sounds just like her mother before she gives away a particularly juicy bit of gossip, says, “You could say it.” 

She could. She could be the little push that gets the cart rolling. She could be the one at their wedding telling this story. She can see it in her mind: Bea, flushed with embarrassment. Ava, smiling fondly and teasing Bea for having a crush on her. She can hear the glasses clinking as people call for a kiss and feel the claps on her shoulder when people thank her for helping them take that first step.

Mary sinks further back into the couch and stretches her legs out on the coffee table. Shannon doesn’t even notice. She’s working something over in her mind, and she has this look on her face. Mary can see the wheels turning, recognizes exactly where she’s seen that look before, and she doesn’t like where they’re going.

“We’re not playing matchmaker,” she warns.

Shannon’s cheeks pinken slightly. “Did I say we were going to play matchmakers?”

“You didn’t have to. I can see it written all over your face.” Mary shakes her head when Shannon opens her mouth to argue, resolutely. “I’m not getting in the middle of this.”

“We’re already in the middle of this,” Shannon points out.

“Fine. We’re not getting more in the middle of this.” Mary says it firmly. “These two idiots need to figure the rest out on their own. They don’t need hand-holding.”

“I think that this conversation has proven they need hand-holding,” Shannon argues. 

Mary can’t tell her that’s not true, because it is. Ava is coming to a lot of realizations tonight, and she wouldn’t have gotten there without Mary sticking herself into the middle of it. She knows it. Shannon knows it. And that infuriatingly addictive smile slowly stretching across her face, transforming into a full blown grin means Shannon knows she knows it too. 

“No,” she warns. She opens her mouth to say more when her phone goes off again.

Ava (9:53 PM): mary, i can’t not think about this now

Mary (9: 54 PM): could you talk to me about it a little less?

Ava (9:55 PM): but you’re the only one who knows!

Mary snorts. “I don’t think you’re that slick, kid.”

Shannon laughs as she reads it. “No, the only one who doesn’t know is Bea.” Her head tilts to the side, a knowing look crossing her face. “You still think they don’t need a little nudge?” 

Mary sighs, surrendering to Shannon’s logic and gives in.

Mary (9:56 PM): listen, baby girl. don’t just think about it. do something about it! 

Ava (9:56 PM): i don’t want to do something she doesn’t want to do Ava (9:56 PM): this isn’t trying jamaican food from the burrito place Ava (9:56 PM): this is our friendship

This means the world to me, Mary reads between the lines. She can’t help but smile. Mary talks a lot of shit most days, grunts her way through conversations that require a bit more finesse than she’s comfortable with, but she’s got a soft spot for her friends. A softer spot for Ava.

Ava (9:57 PM): i don’t wanna fuck this up

Ava has a lot of them wrapped around her finger. Even Lilith, who would never admit it, even under penalty of death. But it’s there. It’s real. They’d all go to the ends of the Earth for Ava Silva. Beatrice would be leading the charge.

Mary (9:57 PM): then just hold onto it for now. you don’t have to say anything yet Mary (9:58 PM): but you should think about it Mary (9:58 PM): because i think you’d be good together.  Mary (9:59 PM): and you’re right. you deserve a sparkly love interest. and bea is miles better looking than that edward guy

Ava (9:59): i knew you were paying attention last weekend

Mary (9:59 PM): you don’t know shit

Ava sends back an emoji with its tongue hanging out and its eyes rolling around its head. Mary closes her phone. That’s enough for tonight.

Shannon opens her phone one last time. Bea probably won’t text her back tonight, but that’s okay. She doesn’t open herself up a lot, doesn’t always tell Shannon what she’s thinking. She hopes Bea does that with Ava. She hopes Bea lets Ava see all the parts of herself that she hides away from everyone else, afraid to look those parts of herself in the eyes. 

Because Bea deserves it. Bea, in Ava’s words, deserves her own great romance.

She deserves it with someone who loves her as much as Ava seems like she does.

And Ava might not have known it. Ava may have just figured it out tonight, pieces she didn’t notice independently coming together into a whole picture. But Ava does now. And Ava will continue to love Bea the way she deserves to be loved. Shannon knows it just by looking at the two of them together. The way they fit so easily, the way she fits with Mary.

Shannon (10:00 PM): Be honest. Be direct. Tell her how you feel. If you never say anything, you’ll never know and you might just miss your chance. Shannon (10:00 PM): Just use your words, Beatrice. You’ll be surprised what happens when you do.

She sighs, sinking down into the cushion and dropping her head down on Mary’s shoulder. “We’re totally the parents of the friend group.”

“I hate that.”

Shannon smiles as she turns her head, pressing it into Mary’s soft shirt and breathing in the smell of sandalwood and their laundry detergent. This is her favorite place to be in the world, tucked into Mary’s side like there’s no one else around. 

Her mind goes to Bea. Is that what she feels like when she’s with Ava? She hopes so. Everyone deserves to have this feeling at one point in their lives. For all of their life, if they’re lucky. 

“Think they’ll take our advice?” Mary asks quietly.

Shannon thinks about it. “In time. They’ll figure it out when they’re ready.”

“Lord help me, it better be before we graduate.” Mary shimmies down a little, catching the television remote with her foot and kicking it towards Shannon’s hand. “Because if they haven’t gotten it together by graduation night, I’m going to sic Lilith on them.”

Shannon laughs and presses the power button on the remote. “No you won’t.”

“No, I won’t,” Mary mumbles. “But I’ll want to.”

Shannon pats her knee gently. “I know, babe.”

Mary turns, presses her lips to the crown of Shannon’s head. “I love you.”

Something soft in Shannon’s chest melts even further. “I love you too.”

She feels Mary smile against her hair and then turn her attention back to the television. They’re done talking about feelings for the night and that’s okay. Mary will make her tea before bed and pull down her side of the comforter and leave the bathroom light on for her when she’s done brushing her teeth. And in the morning she’ll make Shannon breakfast even though she’s going to go eat with Ava, and she’ll say I love you a hundred different ways that aren’t those three little words.

Sometimes, that’s enough. But sometimes, Shannon likes to hear the way they sound coming out of Mary’s mouth. 

And she knows Ava will like the way they sound coming out of Bea’s mouth too. 

You can do it, Beatrice, she thinks to herself. Just be brave.

(more forever roomates)

[nadja-antipaxos]

you know, if "thunder road" was the only thing bruce springsteen ever wrote and released, that would be enough to categorize him as an amazing musician, but the fact he didn't stop there, incredible.

it's so familiar that i often forget the beauty of it. it took seeing him live to fully understand.

"show a little faith, there's magic in the night"

"make crosses for your lovers, throw roses in the rain"

"we got one last chance to make it real, to trade in these wings on some wheels"

"and I know you’re lonely, for words that I ain’t spoken, but tonight we’ll be free, all the promises’ll be broken"

"there were ghosts in eyes of all the boys you sent away"

"so Mary climb in, it’s a town full of losers, and I’m pulling out of here to win"

i included a recording of when he played it before the release of born to run at a bar in nyc. it's absolutely gorgeous.