#maybe if i fix that it will get easier to deny myself things

[meme-loving-stuck]

the hardest part about having an addictive personality is like. you KNOW you can try to discipline yourself or just keep facing the consequences of the bad thing until you finally steel yourself and say 'no. no more bad thing. because it makes me feel bad'

like you KNOW youre capable of doing it. everyone is. and youve done it... maybe once? twice?

but for you, that resolve to finally stop and recover is locked behind a door that everyone SWEARS has a key and you just need to discipline yourself to find it. but you have disciplined yourself and you have tried everything and your fucking door doesnt have a key. it just doesnt. so you can hardly remember a time when you got to just... say no. and unlock the door

and you know that at SOME rare points in your life you have had something so catastrophically bad happen related to the addiction (usually involving hospitalization or something equally serious) that you broke the fucking locked door down and finally stopped. so you know it CAN be open and you CAN see the other side of that door.

it's just way fucking harder when the key to yours doesnt exist.

[my-patron-saint-is-jimmy]

There are a lot of companies and people to boycott because of their support for Israel. That list gets even longer when you factor in the companies that are exploiting and oppressing the Congolese people. When I first started boycotting for Palestine, I felt it because I very rarely buy myself extras and I couldn't have a rare treat anymore.

But here's the thing.

Buy local.

You don't need to go to Starbucks or Tim Hortons or McDonald's for a coffee - there is generally always a locally owned cafe for that. If you're hungry, go to the local restaurant or food truck. If you're struggling because you can't go to McDonald's in the morning for your breakfast before work, leave a bit earlier and hit a cafe or do meal prep to make your life easier. Fuck, buying a second hand coffee maker from a local thrift store can save you time and money and most of them have a timer you can set so it'll be ready for when you wake up.

There are businesses that are really hard to avoid (like Walmart, especially for us rural folks), but there are a lot of small lifestyle changes you can make to boycott shitty corps without constantly denying yourself the things that make life worth living in this post-capitalist hellscape. Buying local is better than buying from large companies anyways and with the COVID and current economic crisis combo, most small businesses are still hurting for revenue.

Buying second hand is also a great way to avoid supporting Israel or giving a market to the exploitation in Congo. Using things until their actually fucked beyond repair is a good way too. Learn how to sew, make things from scratch, basic repairs and maintenance on important items... Finding or building a community of like-minded people is so important too because maybe you don't have the expertise or equipment to fix your fridge, but you know a guy who'll trade you fridge repairs for repairs and reinforcements on his kids' winter gear. With that trade, you no longer need a new fridge and they no longer need new winter coats or snowpants.

Especially in North America, we are very consumerist, which I think relates back to when the colonizers and immigrants first came over to find a land of such abundance when they were used to living in relative scarcity. We need to shake our consumerism for the sake of not just the exploited and occupied, but also for the environment. Corps should have never gotten so big as they have, and we can take away their ability to make massive decisions (such as lobbying govts for changes in businesses' favour and helping fund genocide) by not giving them so much power in our individual lives and funding them. By weaponizing ourselves with knowledge, community, and the desire to reject extreme consumerism, corps will need to change their business models and product catalogs to reflect our spending habits and they'll have less money to fuck us over with in the end.

[emblazons]

this is likely so personal and just. way to much info but there is no where else in my life I could possibly put it and...weirdly, I trust y'all lmfao

There's something so painfully unnerving about having someone be genuinely interested in you after being single for so long, and I don't think—for all of my internal belief that I was ready for "the right relationship" when it came for me—I was prepared for how much there is a very real part of me that desperately wants to run and hide from it solely because it challenges my internal status quo.

The thing is....when I last had a meaningful breakup with a semi-serious partner (2019), I treated being single as a temporary state; something to "get through" until I found a new partner, and I went through the classic dating app gambit and saw men and women and tried to "put myself out there" the way they tell you to do. Then, after realizing how little I wanted to deal with casual dating and hookups—and after being told on my birthday a man I'd been talking to for four months already had a GF of two years—I lost a taste for trying to make something out of nothing and just put sex and dating entirely on the back burner, instead taking the "you can only control you" advice I'd always seen so I could focus figuring out who I was without a partner to constantly distract me from that.

From probably the beginning of COVID, that meant focusing on ...just every single aspect of myself. From healing the mental anguish of burning out of my (then) previous job, finding the bravery to do things I would always do with partners by myself (going to the movies, going out to eat, even shit like solo international travel) and even just letting my "inner nerd" come to the fore because I didn't have anyone looking at me funny for doing things like spending hours writing Stranger Things analysis or learning to make gifs (lol), I've spent nearly the last four years just...learning to like all the random corners of myself as myself, finding out what it felt like to go to sleep alone and content with the woman staring at me in the mirror.

In doing that though...so much fell into place for me in so many areas it never managed to when romance was a priority. I got a job that I absolutely love, and make more money than I even thought possible ever, nevermind before 30. I went from having roommates and shit credit to having my own apartment and fixing a lot of the financial mistakes I made in my early 20s. I learned to take better care of my body—going to all the doctors i had avoided for years, taking accountability the aspects of my health I could control, and losing the nearly 60 lbs I gained from illness and medicine (and poor habits) in that previous 4 year period. I traveled to New Zealand for the first time, went to all the concerts and music festivals and events that growing up poor had denied me, and learned how to be comfortable doing everything from buying cars to making serious appointments all alone. All of that happened because I was single, not in spite of it—and as I realized how much mental space "the pursuit of love" had taken from everything else, being single slowly started to feel like a boon from the universe in a way my formerly partnered or "crushing" or "dating" self could not have even dreamed.

Granted—that was not an easy process. Even right now I'm not sure it would be honest to say I always enjoyed it, especially at first. Some days being "single and not looking" felt like the world was crushing me under the weight of being alone, from how much easier it seemed emotionally, mentally and even financially for my partnered friends (because "a burden shared is a burden halved" as they say) to the way when the walls closed in and life got really hard, the only other being in the room was my cat and....maybe God.

Learning not to be annoyed when one of my friends found someone they loved and wanted to be with seriously—often moving toward marriage, because that's the era of life I'm in—was still a challenge, and not wanting to bite people's heads off when they said "but aren't you lonely" still happened a fair amount. Slowly becoming desensitized to my body as a sexual entity felt strange at first, but then it slowly changed into something comforting as I realized that a lot of the sex I was having before wasn't rooted in an expression of affection or desire for my partner, but expectation, habit, and a refusal to accept that I was actually pretty fucking demisexual. I started looking at my own relationship history and other people's as something to be studied and considered not emotionally, but logically—and slowly slipped into a version of myself the me of my early 20s could not have ever fathomed.

It wasn't even until I was in New York in May that I realized, probably for the first time in all that time, that I had accomplished all of what my "intentionally single era" was designed to do. I was a featured speaker on a panel with one of the largest design magazines in the entire world—but more than that, I was someone I liked, respected, and wanted to be, because when I looked in the mirror, who stared back made me happy as fuck to know.

So, I said I would be more open to meeting new people again. And within—I shit you not—three weeks, this man shows up on my birthday of all days and within five meetings wheedles his way not just into "oh he's kind of cute" territory, but all the way to me kissing his cheek, saying his mispronunciation of a word he's only read is cute and holding his hand at a concert on a random Wednesday.

I literally cannot tell you how unnerving that feels. I cannot tell you how much I can feel the walls of my four years of singleness wanting to shut him out despite all the green flags he's managed to present at record fucking speed, especially compared to all the partners I had before him. I cannot tell you how much even the usually nice feeling of liking someone feels sullied by my own sincere doubt this is going to work out in the long run, or how even the smallest things he does that aren't like me feel like giant red flags because I've spent so much time focusing solely on myself even a smidgen of someone else in that space feels enormous.

I cannot tell you how weird it feels to have someone look at me with desire, both for my body and to know me more; how weird it feels to sense the starting of attraction in myself because someone has laid so much of themselves at my feet and still stayed present despite my overwhelming desire to isolate and intellectualize. To me, its been four seconds of my life since I met this man—someone who I honestly didn't even think I would like that much, and who made me defensive solely because he was reaching for something I wasn't even sure I was ready to give—and him being intentional about seeing me, remembering things about me and complementing me feels like an overstep...even though it's probably one of the healthiest things that could be happening to me.

Even the fact that I told him about my family, my struggle with anxiety and my distancing myself from sex for so long feels fucking insane to ME, and I'm the one who did it. It feels like this little lonely, touch-starved gremlin inside of me has been let out of her cage on a leash and still managed to run to the front of the deck and start barking directions. Two inches forward feels like a mile when you've spent just under half a decade not moving at all—and while I don't feel overwhelmed by it yet, this whole thing gives me anxiety even as I'm nearly desperate at this point to let myself explore it.

I don't know. I might regret even say this, though I don't think so; even if it doesn't work out, it was going to happen sometime and with someone. I just. Its new. Its different. It is just about as far out of my comfort zone as I could get, and that feels weird to say considering how the me of "before" would have laughed at how little has actually been done. There really isn't anything to do at this point but see it through as far as it makes sense to—and to accept the want that it returns to me, no matter how horrifying that seems in the moment...and as he texts me, as I write this even now.

I'm nervous, I'm anxious, and I'm excited. Right now, I think that's all i've got.

[mimi-is-so-horny]

this weekend was almost blurry. i think the heatwave (and me feeling foggy and tired all the time when it's hot, owing to my mountain-village upbringing) did not help. still, i can't complain.

last Tuesday, Sir visited me to fuck me. i love it when He fucks me on my bed. I have kept Anna's favourite sheets - they're very pretty and feel very luxurious, indeed. He fucked my pussy. He held my jaw so tightly He bruised a small spot. fucked my mouth with His fingers - the AC that is constantly on makes my lips dry, so it was easy for a tear to happen. i loved waking up extra early on Wednesday to do my makeup for work and having to cover up His use. i felt so young.

He bruised my cervix. this is so special, because when pain comes from the skin (spanking, caning), it's different; the pain comes from the outside. your suit. but when you are fucked rough in the cunt or the ass - the pain comes from the inside. so, i had Him in me for days. how many people can say they've been used so well? not many. i'm so lucky. He cuddled me in His clothes while i was totally naked. He had printed some photos of me on His home printer - screen captures from my videos so far. i felt like a schoolgirl.

"see how you look here? here? this one? next time you shouldn't hide your face like that." "next time, keep your eyes open when you're in pain - like here, in this photo." "see how you hold your stomach here? you hide. no. don't do that."

i nodded attentively each time. i was dripping.

i don't like porn because it's so foreign to my experience. the actresses are so proudly eager performing for the camera. i am eager, and i am desperately in need to serve most of the time; but i'm also ashamed of it. i started thinking of it as performing a function, and things got more matter-of-factly and easy. but, it's not like you can serve winking at the camera, right? i want to be a slave. i want to be useful. i want to be marked. but i am also becoming more quiet in the process. i think that accepting some stuff has made it easier for me to stop doing drugs, trying to be on a constant caloric deficit, tapping my fingers impatiently in the elevator, drinking... a lot. denying i wanted my abuser dead, then denied i missed him when he miraculously died in a car accident. admitting i want love, even if i don't know if it is like, a real thing. technically, i'm healthier, and will probably live longer (maybe). i could never imagine allowing myself to live past a certain point. now, i do.

throughout the next few days i felt my cunt... dry. i was worried. why are you denying your nature? fuck. thankfully a conversation with a special someone here made me wet just in time for Friday.

Friday afternoon, Sir picked me up from home. drove me to the empty parking lot He likes and i gave Him a blowjob after being ordered to take my top off. His cum tasted delicious this time, and i told Him. i swallowed and let Him fix His zipper. kept my top off (i think some men my age noticed, but Sir's car is kinda high and the seats deep. so, i don't feel visible, and He is very relaxed about it. in any case, it made me feel cheap and when i told Him, He chuckled).

Anna had already arrived at His place. we sat in the family room with the large TV and we watched both my most recent caning and my painal sessions. Sir and Anna on the sofa - i was seated by Anna's feet. Anna was moved to tears, as she found them both beautiful; she looked like she was watching a horror film. scared. i saw her eyes watching me get ass fucked and caned. it was revulsion, fear. i don't think she's a painslut. she thanked me for letting Sir explore that with me, and i deflected: i just do what i want. what i want is His. did you ever thank your toys after playing with them, Anna? i don't think so.

Sir was so sweet. He carried me to the bathroom to let me pee. He wiped my cunt clean. He fucked my pussy like He really needed it - He didn't come for a long time so it left me feeling sore. Anna worshipped my tits and thanked me for letting Sir "take it out on me". i kissed her hands and told her it was my pleasure and my pleasure is my purpose. there is no trade-off, as Sir respects consent very much. i have just accepted Him. just me and all of my cunt.

Anna and Sir left to dine out, leaving me home alone. i ate, brushed my teeth, read a little. when they came back, they used my mouth on the sofa. first Anna - she leaked all over my chin and i thanked her. Sir said one orgasm was enough for her. His turn: He ordered me to keep His balls in my mouth for as long as i could. fuck. Sir is big. He's not too long, but He's really thick. and His balls are bigger than my ex's. balls are so weird - soft and lumpy, but not lumpy like some tits. i tried to keep them in and my effort was lousy - but i was so tired. He did the most humiliating thing: He pumped on my tongue. it felt so gross, like cheating. but i also didn't care. i swallowed.

i kneeled and let my nose touch the floor to thank them for their cum, yet no words came out and my eyelids felt heavy. i felt tired enough to sleep on the floor and Sir gave me two light slaps to get up and sleep in my bed. He tucked me in and turned on the AC. He kisses my hand. i think i chuckled but i was quickly asleep.

Saturday morning was much less passive. i woke up determined to make up for last night. i'd beg to get my ass fucked. Sir fucked my pussy first, then my ass. He came in my ass - it felt so intrusive. i told Him, chuckling.

"repeat what you said."

"it feels intrusive... why cum there?"

"is this yellow, honey? what colour is it?"

"no, no. i don't mind it. I just don't see the point."

"you don't *mind* it, but do you feel good? does it feel good, Mimi?"

Pause.

my denied cunt looks at me, its lips open.

"it doesn't feel good, Sir."

"great."

Anna chimed in. she's not supposed to cum till Monday and she's not happy.

"it's not supposed to feel good. fucking whore. whore", she pouts.

i nodded. Sir looks serious. He's regretting going too far. He looks a bit frozen. regretful. fuck.

"Sir. permission to hug your knees, Sir?"

He nodded. i hugged His knees and nuzzled into His thigh. He wore jeans and i only wore my heels. i'm so naked, i wish He could feel my nipples brush on Him.

"it doesn't feel good, Sir. but i feel great about it. my stomach tells me when things aren't good, because it feels tight down there. like when you slapped me too hard in May, remember?"

He nodded.

"but i told you. right?"

He nodded.

"i'd love more of your cum in my asshole, Sir."

He hugged me. He ordered Anna to cuddle me till He finished with some work.

Anna kept His cum in with a butt plug, and cupped my neck, and kissed my tits. we hugged and cuddled for an hour.

Anna pumped my cunt. Sir took pictures and said it looked cute but almost fake. i loved the result so much i ordered a pussy pump - i hope it arrives soon. my clit was very neglected and Sir wanted me to edge with an ice cube - but Anna, of all people, talked Him out of it. throbby clit, leaky cunt. cunt wiped by Anna; Mimi is humiliated.

Sir only fucked Anna later that day, and asked me (very kindly) to lick and swallow His cum off her pussy. i kissed her pussy and did it. she mocked me for kissing her pussy to take Sir's gift, but i told her good whores are kind and don't make a mess. good whores are kind and don't make a mess. good whores are kind and don't make a mess. hypnotic.

Anna is also trying to experiment with body writing, so i went to bed looking extra special. she went to a very posh school so of course - the writing was in French.

she wrote "son dieu en debasement" ("her god in debasement") over my ass on my lower back, an arrow pointing towards my ass crack. she wrote that because we had a long discussion about what i consider my purpose in use to be (anal use, throat use, denial, body modifications, etc). she concluded that while women listen to their pussies for what they want, i as a bottom cunt listen to something far more degrading: my asshole. i just lowered my head and said "yes" quietly to most stuff she said. our whole discussion was her enthusiastically suggesting things about me and me just adding a little or saying yes. childlike.

an arrow pointing to the edge of my cunt slit and "putain fermée" written on my lower stomach (means "locked whore").

she wanted to write on my tits, too - but Sir didn't let her. Sir listened a bit (He was busy reading something) and then got up to see what Anna was about to write, indicating where the arrow should end right above my slit. to be accurate but also "elegant". like i'm an object.

Sunday was beautiful.

i slept in, feeling lazy. it was my denied cunt that properly woke me up. i throbbed at the idea of writing about one of my fantasies. my fingers are too slow to get me close to ruin, but they have always been unreliable. i bumped into Sir on my way to use the bathroom. He watched me pee and lightly pinched my nipples: He politely asked me to brush my teeth. i said yes - i've probably never gotten my teeth brushed for me before. it felt sweet, especially as He gave me a kiss on the cheek. He let me kiss His knuckles.

i had breakfast and did some chores. Sir let me know He had ordered food from a proper restaurant for us today; He wants me to explore more refined cuisine or whatever. of course He ordered for me. Dijon and cognac tender-charred slices with sweet potatoes. He ran His hand up and down my back while i ate - He can be so mom-like sometimes. i loved the food but i was too distracted by my cunt to thank Him. He told me not to talk, and helped me lie down to use the pussy pump on me again. i welcomed it - i was beyond passive. i was melting and so, so happy. He really pushed my cunt this time. i've seen it a bit like this before but its folds were brought out in a way that made it look very new.

ages later (or at least my cunt says it was a decade later) i was led outside to be pissed on. i was laid on my back, closed my eyes, opened my mouth. Anna pissed right above my head. Sir sprayed me well. i could taste their sweet lemonade cocktails in their urine.

i feel so happy. warm, happy. cherished and blessed and warm. i've been sleeping more peacefully this past month. i've stopped constantly wanting to drink, or smoking as much as i used to. i feel more heard than when i sat for PhD vacancies' final-round interviews.

and my cunt is so wet all the time. thank You, Sir.

bises,

Mimi.

[justajsworkshop]

in the introduction to the power of now, eckhart tolle talks about his first experience in the void state.

it was actually born from a moment of profound emotional anguish; he was so consumed with his own suffering and had a moment of thinking to himself "i can't live with myself any longer."

this prompted him to ask himself... does this mean there are two selves? the "i" and the "self" that he can't live with. maybe only one is real. he was suddenly feeling himself being sucked into a vortex of energy, which deeply terrified him, and he was physically shaking. he heard the words "resist nothing as though spoken inside my chest."

he was pulled into a void that felt inside himself rather than outside himself. the physical world was gone, but next thing he knew, he woke up, and he was blanketed with a deep peace that he carried with himself for some time after.

michael singer also talks about a similar subtle but profound moment of awakening in the surrender experiment. he was sitting with a friend in an awkward moment of silence trying to come up with topics and things to say when he realized he was watching this voice trying to come up with how to fill the silence. he was no longer identifying with the voice but observing it.

he dedicated himself fully to understanding this voice (ideally, how to get rid of it), and this is how he found meditation. he meditated regularly and was incredibly devoted to his practice. some time later, when he was on a camping trip with his then wife and friends, he wandered off to meditate.

like the buddha, he sat underneath a tree by a stream, and he meditated. he was there for some time, and the energy flow got stronger and stronger. he reached a deep meditative state, but when his mind tried to resist, he heard this booming voice from behind/within him "do you want to know what lies beyond yourself?"

and he continued meditating until he suddenly found himself in a state of pure bliss, unaware of the physical. the way he describes it "i could not tell you where i was."

he, too, felt absolute peace that he carried with him for the following weeks.

i share these two anecdotes to show you two staunchly different paths to the same experience—yet they were both born of the same subtle shift: recognizing the Self is not the mind.

there's a reason people keep saying you are god, you are limitless, you are not the body/thoughts/feelings, you are pure consciousness, you are awareness, etc. the fundamental basis of true spirituality—outside religious dogma and dilution—is recognizing yourself as more than just this personal, individualized self (also known as the egoic mind).

so, instead of trying to fix or to change yourself, what if you focused on knowing yourself? because you're already here. there's no denying that. but who are you? who's the one experiencing everything you're experiencing? who is watching the thinker? when you think a thought, who hears it?

it becomes so much easier to stop identifying with the physical world, the physical body/senses, and physical mind when you realize that these are all experiences passing through your true self.

stop asking how, when, or if. start asking who.

who am i?

[sapphsorrows]

What do you think about asexual/aromantic people being in the community? Personally I never got it, and what’s even the point of coming out? Just tell your parents they aren’t getting grandkids I don’t see the deal

i don't even know at this point. historically, gay and bisexual people have been oppressed because of our same sex attraction and the fact that we have homosexual sex. idk where asexuals fit into that, especially since modern asexuals claim asexuality is spectrum (idk why. zero is not a spectrum), and also they've made asexuality cringe-y as hell.

i don't think there's really a need for asexual people to even "come out," it's nobody's business. the reason ssa people come out is to let their families know hey, i'm attracted the same sex and i'm very likely to bring home a partner of the same sex who i will want to be part of our family.

also a lot of asexuals on this website are straight up homophobic. "can you tag gay people kissing? it makes me uncomfy" idk can you go jump in a lake? you even asking that is making me uncomfy. "ew i hate pride it's so sexual" it's a celebration of our sexuality like if you're gonna 1. be homophobic and 2. make your entire personality the fact that you don't fuck anyone then like just go be a nun or something damn.

i'm like 99% sure that people who claim to be asexual are not actually asexual, our culture has just become so pornsick that anyone who doesn't want to fuck like rabbits all the time will probably feel alienated and feel like there's something wrong with them. i myself have felt this way for a long time. not only that but it feels great to be part of a community with a common interest. also i'm pretty sure quite a few asexual women only identify as asexual so that they can say no to men's advances. "i'm asexual" is a lot easier to digest than a flat out "no." and saying no to men as a woman is scary, i won't deny that.

i think if there are asexual people out there then they're very, very rare, and it might actually be a medical issue, like a hormonal imbalance. i'm not a doctor and i'm not saying you need to get this "fixed" but like if you have a really really /really/ low sex drive then it could be a medical thing. it's known that hormones as well as medications like antidepressants can affect sex drive.

i got an anon a while ago who claimed to have a very low sex drive and who was looking for medical resources on asexuality and all she found was ace pride blogs, which really sucks.

anyway if anyone who id's as asexual reads this: this is not an attack on you. this is not an attack on your identity. these are just my thoughts. i am not a doctor. i am not saying you have to "fix" yourself or go fuck anyone. just maybe stop being homophobic when gay people talk about their sex lives. you're acting like how straight people did in the 2000s i.e. "i'm fine with it i just wish they wouldn't shove it in my face all the time."

[inflatingnblue]

worried anon here again, but off anon this time bc fuck it, and also if we can’t be open about shit on our kink blogs, where can we??? 💜

I’ve felt and seen how seductive an ED can be; besides my own history of disordered eating and dysmorphia, the love of my life struggles with pretty serious anorexia, and it kills me to watch her be drawn back in again and again by this terrible thing that our culture only perpetuates, even now that she’s years into recovery. When she was at her worst, when she had almost convinced herself that the ED was “working,” she was so miserable and exhausted and listless and angry all the time, and she still hated her body to the point of suicidality. The weight she lost didn’t fix any of it, but it did make her incredibly hard to be around and made her life feel so small that she didn’t want to live it anymore. It makes me sick that the world we live in would rather we hurt and hate ourselves over and over again, systematically denying ourselves the nutrients we need to live, in order to make us think we’re doing right by our bodies and that people will think we’re beautiful. I’m sure you’ve heard all this kind of thing before, just as my fiancée has, from therapists and partners and friends and family and doctors, but I know from my experience that it’s easier to actually start to hear it when you’re not also exposing yourself to pro-ED voices. When I was in high school and at my most mentally ill, I had a whole secret blog where I posted and reblogged self-harm content, so I genuinely do get how that can make you feel less alone. When you’re at your lowest, the most important thing is to not isolate yourself, even if that means you’re in some darker online spaces. Obviously you can and should like whatever posts you want on here, and me and your other followers can easily protect ourselves by blocking pro-ana tags — I guess I just wanted you to know that someone who doesn’t even know you is genuinely worried about you, and hates to see you unable to see how beautiful and valuable you are.

I get the relapsing stuff too; I hadn’t restricted in almost 10 years, but then last December I went through some major life/career/medication changes and gained like 30 lbs in a couple of months, and all the ED and SH voices came right back. The best things I’ve done for myself since then are the simple ones: 1) remind myself that if it was my fiancée feeling this way I would be endlessly telling her how beautiful she is, 2) try to remember that gaining weight isn’t a moral or health failure and is actually a natural part of getting older, and 3) buy myself some cute new underwear and comfy new pants so I didn’t feel horrible every time I tried to get dressed for the day. It’s taken months, and in the mean time I got a new job, this weird old kink of mine resurfaced (possibly as a coping mechanism? idk man, the human brain is wild), and I yanked myself back into a healthier relationship with food and mirrors, but it was and continues to be fucking HARD.

Long story not-so-short, I am really proud of you for making it this far. I am proud of you for being here, and I am proud of every time you push back against those voices, alluring as they might be. Recovery is the toughest, weirdest thing, but it is so worth it. I hope your husband is loving on you lots, I hope you had a wonderful Halloween looking adorable in your Violet costume, and I hope you’ll reach out if you ever need someone to talk to. I’m leaving this as an ask bc I don’t wanna risk making you feel uncomfortable, but feel free to DM me instead of posting/answering it publicly if you’d rather.

💜💜💜

Hello Not So Anon Anymore,

I appreciate you reaching out again and for sharing some of your and your fiancee's stories. One thing I find helpful is hearing about other people's experiences, even if it's not ED related. Hearing how someone has fought and struggled and conquered is good inspiration that maybe not all is lost.

To be honest, I was taken aback by your first ask. When I started reading I was like this person is leaving a compliment, which took a left turn. Not a bad left turn, just an unexpected one. It made me face what I had been doing and it was a good example of how personal struggles don't only affect you.

Oof, I totally understand that crankiness and feeling irritated. I've snapped at people when not meaning to. When you've got a constant stream of thoughts bombarding you it can be easy to lose it, not that it's okay to do so.

Like you said isolation is no bueno. Thinking about my relapse, I did isolate. I'd think maybe I can reach out to a friend, but then I'd stop myself. They've got a lot going on and it always seems like something is wrong when I connect with them, how annoying of me, what a burden. I noticed that no one reached out to me. Not that I was expecting anyone to reach out, but usually friendships go both ways. Both people contact each other and no one did. My ED was like "see, they don't even like you." And that only made the isolation worse.

I also didn't talk to my husband because he had a lot going on and I didn't want to him to try to impede my "progress." Of course I finally told him after several months. He was upset because I wasn't talking to anyone about it, and I don't blame him for feeling that way. Who wouldn't want their significant other to be healthy?

The interesting thing is I was big and I was experiencing symptoms that someone would assume an underweight person faced. I was lightheaded a lot. There were times I wasn't near anything to hold on to so I would crouch to the floor. (I even had a dream of it happening out in public. Tried to will myself to keep walking, but eventually crouched down because I didn't want to fall.) I've never been that lightheaded ever, but I didn't lose much weight when I was younger which is why I never experienced that before. I was scared that my symptoms were increasing in frequency, but at the same time it was a sign that it was "working." I eventually fainted one night. I've never fainted and it was so scary. I didn't even know I had fainted when I first woke up. I literally thought I had somehow fallen out of bed. My memory came back quickly and I couldn't believe I had fainted. Me, overweight, had fainted? I always associated that with those who were underweight, who were actually sick, who actually looked the part of an anorexic. But something that the general population don't seem understand is that it doesn't matter your weight or size - EDs don't discriminate. Starving is starving, regardless of size the body needs energy and when you deplete it the body will respond like a car without gas. It will breakdown.

Also, I totally agree that paying more attention to the bloating and such is a coping mechanism. In a way I think I'm trying to beat "it" first. Like making fun of myself first before someone else can. Making myself big before recovery or my lipedema can. I wish this wasn't such a mind fuck.

I really appreciate your kind words of encouragement. Being vulnerable is challenging and it's brave you decided to not be Anon this time. And same - reach out to talk, even if you'd like to unpack what's going on with your fiancee. I really hope everything works out for you both. 💙

Thanks again.

[wawawawawawawawawawawawawa]

dont have aspd but i like never had emotional empathy growing up (yay mix of autism and childhood situations that caused me to unlearn/block off emotional empathy) and i've never felt remorse and i only get small twinges of guilt i can easily brush aside, but i watched drrr at age 17 and showed it to my family and having all of em be like "yo ur just like izaya" (my mum was like "yeah if i hadnt been super careful how i raised u, 100% u would've turned out worse than izaya" which. uh considering before izaya the chara i related most to was azula from atla. fun to hear). and it me caused me to be like "oh shit maybe i should like learn empathy". i didnt realise i had cognitive empathy or that it was even a thing so i spent a few years teaching myself emotional empathy and man it suuuucks. worst decision i ever made. now i spend time being like upset for other ppl? when i used to just, be able to intellectually understand things sucked for them and help em out w/o feeling anything and so i wasnt emotionally bothered/drained afterwards. whereas now i like, spend time crying over other ppl? exhausting and terrible. it hasnt improved me as a person at all, im dont actually care abt things any more than i used to, and i think cognitive empathy is by far the most useful and practical out of the two. im not saying u shouldnt listen to ur therapist, i just kinda wanted to get that off my chest and not be judged?

WANNA MAKE CLEAR i am not judging u i just have always always always wanted to use this meme for as long as i have known of its existence

and what ur describing is literally exactly why i worry abt emotional empathy and feeling remorse like. maybe i'm fine existing this way. maybe i don't want to be fixed!! i get that itd make me more palatable and easier to get along with or whatever but i'm a person too!! what about me?? everyone will have conflict at some point; what about me makes it so that all chances of that need to be hammered down?? i'm a person too- what about what i feel is right for my own emotional state???

fun facts my fiance liked me partly because i reminded him of izaya. idk if you know enough of my blog to know my Lore but: he knew me for a day thru roleplaying and i wanted to know him outside of a rp context, and he was talking abt liking psychology. i then challenged him to diagnose me, yaknow As You Do, and in a Public Server he went "oh you have aspd, don't you?" totally innocently, he had no idea abt the stigma

i ofc denied it because i wanted him to like me and also was sixteen, but oddly enuf the aspd traits are (partly) Why He Liked Me??? not in a fetishistic way but just like, accepting that was part of my personality that doesnt need to be hammered out and like, not acting like Total Full Remission It's Like It Was Never Even There is the only end goal worth chasing like. maybe i dont wanna fully remiss maybe thats my choice and i have fuckin, command over my own god damned mind body and life!!!???

also fwiw: i dont know the rest of your symptoms but you having autism and the symptoms coming from trauma don't negate the possibility that it's aspd so id suggest looking into it more! even if a therapist said you didnt have it, they can be kinda..... stupid about aspd lmfao! don't look on quora and don't look on reddit nothing good lies behind those walls

[ry0chann]

shopping for hair dye

bf!Ryomen Sukuna x gn!reader

↝ genre: fluff, slight comfort (?), modern au

↝ word count: 0.6k

↝ warnings: long haired Sukuna, grumpy!Kuna

↝ summary: Sukuna’s a natural blonde and it seems like he’s run out of dye to keep his luscious locks their familiar rosey pink.

↝ notes: here’s a little collab piece i did with @ry0m3n !! he wrote the actual “dying Sukuna’s hair” piece, so definitely give that a read :) it’s not an exact connection to this, bc obviously we each had our own ideas or whatever, but the concept is the same for the most part haha

Sukuna’s quiet the entire drive to the store, presumably because he’d rather not be going out with his hair a mess. He looked fine in your eyes, though he’d beg to differ. The pink in his hair had grown out more than he would’ve liked, leaving his dark, dirty blond roots exposed. It was something he was insecure about, whether he’d admit that to you or not. You weren’t sure why, though you never bothered to ask. That, however, was the reason he was “in a mood.” He’d rather not leave the house looking this way, but you didn’t know what dye he used. It’d be easier to accompany him than to go alone anyway, plus you’d never pass up an opportunity to spend time with him.

He pulls into a parking spot, sighing as the two of you ready yourselves to enter the store. 

“You look fine, Suku, trust me.” you reassure, taking his hand in yours. 

He grumbles something under his breath, eliciting a giggle from you. Sukuna was very stubborn. He already didn’t enjoy running errands, let alone going out in public while his hair was “in shambles.” Nonetheless, you walk through the aisles until you come across what you’re looking for.

You got caught up looking at the options, wondering what your pouting boyfriend would look like with a color other than pink. His eyes were fixated on all the boxes, quickly skimming them until he found the brand he uses. Distracted, you don’t notice him grab a box or two before hurriedly exiting the aisle. 

“Hey,” you call out, grabbing his wrist just before he leaves. “You don’t need that many boxes, you know.” He glares at you irritably, “If I get two, I won’t have to come back for a while. I’m thinking ahead.”

You hum, taking a look at the boxes in his hand. The color he picked wasn’t the one he normally chooses. You may not have been too familiar with specifically what he uses, but the color in his hand was darker than the pink his hair typically is.

“This color is off.” you murmur.

The man rolls his eyes, “I know. The one I use isn’t here.”

Sukuna turns from you, beginning to walk towards the registers. You quickly follow behind, entwining your fingers with his once more.

“We can go somewhere else, if you want. Maybe they’ll have it there.” you suggest, trying to lighten the mood.

He was clearly upset, that’s never been something he was good at hiding.

“No,” he mumbles, “This will do fine. I’d like to go home now anyway.” 

You sigh, agreeing to buy whatever he had just to keep him content. He pays for the dye and you’re soon in the car once more, sitting in silence for just a moment. Sukuna chews his lip, annoyed, tapping the steering wheel while he waits for the car to warm up. The littlest things would make him grouchy, you honestly found it cute. Your finger curls into his hair, twirling it flirtatiously, and you lean over to kiss his cheek. 

“It’ll still look great on you, I promise. I’ll even help you dye your hair, if you’d like.” you grin brightly, hoping your bubbly demeanor would fix his listless one.

He smirks subtly at your compliment, chuckling as he shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I can do it myself.”

Sukuna steals a kiss to your cheek as you adjust in your seat. “I appreciate the offer, darling.”

You weren’t upset that he denied you, though his gratitude was nice to hear. You’d still pester him about it later, anyway, knowing he’d give in to your nagging eventually.

[ @poe-daydreams ]

[mbti-notes]

Hello, mbti notes. I'm an F INFP. I have question, what is the best reaction to someone making fun of us?

Is it better to just stay quiet and ignore, deny it like "It's not true", or maybe just laugh it off?

It's quite embarrassing to say but my face is a bit unfortunate and I also have a seemingly malnourished body so from time to time, I would received hurtful words about my appearance. Usually I would just stay quiet and show poker face but it feels awkward. I don't want the situation to turn into conflict If I say something but I also don't want to make myself look pitiful/like a fool..

An important aspect of having good social skills is understanding context. For example:

1) What is the social situation? Is it a private, public, or professional interaction? Different social situations bring different social consequences to consider. You generally have more freedom to speak up when it's a personal relationship and the interaction happens in private. If the interaction takes place in public, you have to consider what the other people will think/do, e.g., whether they will "take sides" and potentially make the situation worse for you. A work situation is much more complicated because it depends on whether you have enough clout to speak up for yourself without suffering some form of retaliation.

2) Who are you dealing with? Does the person have higher/lower social status than you? The amount of power someone has over you and your life is important because you don't want to provoke or get entangled with the wrong people. If it's someone you don't know well or don't have much contact with, shrugging it off (and letting everyone forget it easily) is probably better than making a big production (that is burned into everyone's memory forever). If it's someone close to you who has formed a habit of putting you down, then you have to be assertive about setting and enforcing respectful relationship boundaries.

3) What is the person's underlying motive/intention? Are they just trying to be funny? Maybe laugh it off (to show that you have a sense of humor about yourself), but in a sarcastic/deadpan way (to show that you disapprove of petty insults). Do they speak without filter and have no clue about the impact of their words? Maybe you want to explain to them why it's hurtful. Do they believe their comments are "helpful"? Use your best judgment about whether to listen. Are they putting you down to prop themselves up? Maybe roll your eyes at their immaturity. Are they out to hurt you because of an old grudge? Bury the hatchet with them. Are they a bully and picking on you because you're an easy target? Maybe you need to step up and show some power in order to stop them.

You haven't provided enough detail for me to give you a detailed response. Your question pertains to social skills. The way you frame the question implies that you're looking for some kind of fixed rule to follow in every social interaction that will always lead to success. But socializing is rarely so simple.

I'm sorry that you have to experience such maltreatment. Nobody deserves to be teased or bullied for their appearance. It sounds like you are a little resigned to it. Perhaps take the initiative to surround yourself with more kind, positive, and supportive people, as that makes it easier to ignore the mean, negative, and judgmental people. Additionally, maybe spend more time focusing on your good aspects, such as building your skills or developing your talents, so that you feel more pride than shame in yourself. This also gives people more information to consider when evaluating you. Your critics won't get very far when you have much more interesting things to show for yourself than looks.

[definitelyseven]

hurts so good | twelve (final)

summary: growing up with Park Jinyoung was never easy and things are about to get worse when you’ve been asked to marry him

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve - final |

You sat down quietly across from him and next to your attorney. It had been three weeks since you last saw Jinyoung, three weeks since he agreed to the divorce. You only heard from him when he asked to meet to sign the papers.

“Thank you Mrs. Park for coming to meet us. My client said the both of you mutually agreed to sign today’s papers. Is that correct?” 

“Yes that’s correct,” you responded as Jinyoung’s lawyer slid over some papers. Your lawyer intercepts the papers and begins scanning the document. 

“My client is generously offering $20,000 a month for the next 40 years or a one time check of $10 million,” he revealed. You stared at Jinyoung in shock.

“No,” you denied. “No, I don’t want your money.”

“Mrs. Park, I urge you to reconsider this. It’s his responsibility to take care of you,” your lawyer reminded you.

“It’s Y/N and I can take care of myself,” you argued.

“How?” Jinyoung finally said. “You have no job, no house. Your father still gambles,” he exposed. 

“That is none of your concern. I will figure it out. I will find a job. I don’t want your money. I don’t want to owe you anything,” you continued to explain.

“Just take the fucking money, Y/N! Don’t be so stubborn,” he exclaimed. You glared at him. “I’m sorry,” he sighed, knowing he’s going to lose this battle against you.

“Moving on to the next thing-,” his lawyer began to speak before you interrupted him.

“I don’t want a single thing from him. I’m not interested in what else is on that list.” 

His lawyer looked over a Jinyoung, who had his arms crossed against his chest. He sighed again, nodding in agreement. He leans over to the table, “I want to talk to you alone.”

“No. My client will not be speaking with anyone without me present,” your lawyer declined.

“Don’t worry, we won’t be negotiating anything. My lawyer will leave to fix these papers, won’t you?” he instructed.

“Yes, that’s right. Mr. Lee, please follow me.”

“It’s alright. I’ll be okay,” you assured your lawyer. He nods leaving you alone with Jinyoung as he helps prepare the divorce papers. He stares at you in silence as you avoid his gaze. 

“You wanted to talk?” you asked him.

He sighed lightly before leaning forwards once again. “This may be the last time we ever speak to each other like this - face to face.”

You gave him a subtle smile, nodding in agreement. “I will always be thankful for you and your family. You saved us and that will never change, no matter what happens between us.”

“I appreciate that,” he said. “Father loved you, no matter how harsh he was.”

You smiled weakly, “He loved you too.”

There was another long silence between the both of you. Now that you think of it, you and Jinyoung never had a peaceful conversation before. If he wasn’t being mean to you, he was yelling at you. 

“I know Jisoo came to see you. I know she told you some stuff,” he said softly. “I should’ve been the one who told you and I’m sorry I never did. I’m sorry I never showed you.”

You held your breath. Never in a million years did you expect him to apologize.

“I hope the next person you love, you’ll be better to her than you were to me.”

His eyes began to swell, slightly turning pinkish. “She told me you thought I always loved her.” You looked down at your lap because you knew it was true even if they denied it. “Do you still believe that?”

“Look at where we’re at, Jinyoung. It doesn’t matter what I believe.” 

“It does! It does matter. I may have never showed or told you that I loved you but I never loved anyone else. Not once,” he confessed. 

“Every time we fought, you always ran to her. You always picked her, sided with her and I was the one in the way. What else was I supposed to think?” you questioned. 

Jinyoung sighed. “February 14, 2013.”

“W-what?,” you stuttered with tears in your eyes.

“It was our senior year of high school.” 

You remembered now. You had finally mustered enough courage to confess to Jinyoung. You hand-made heart shaped chocolates for him but he rejected you brutally even front of all your classmates.

“The night before - Jaebum stayed up all night making you chocolates. I overheard him confessing to the housekeeper that he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend. What gave him the right?” he asked, rhetorically.

“He never told me about this. I never received his chocolates,” you said, confused. 

“I was so angry at him. He took my father away from me and now he wanted you! He wanted to take everything...everyone away from me!” he shouted. “I knew I couldn’t let him have you so I had to beat him to it. I had to tell you I liked you before he did.”

“Then why did you reject me?” you asked. 

“I had this elaborate plan - to make you fall in love with me, to be together until Jaebum couldn’t handle it anymore and leave. But the moment I looked into your eyes that day, I didn’t have the guts to do it. I couldn’t confess to liking you out of spite,” he revealed. “But what I didn’t expect was for you to confess first.”

“You broke my heart then too.”

“I didn’t know if I liked you because I actually liked you or if I liked you to get back at Jaebum. You would’ve never forgiven me if you found out I confessed out of spite,” he said almost in tears. “I tried so hard to differentiate the two but I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried. I didn’t know what to do and it drove me nuts. A couple of days later, it finally came to me. I thought if I was meaner to you, maybe...just maybe I would stop having those feelings for you. Maybe I could finally stop thinking about you.”

You stared at him quietly, taking in every word he said. Tears rolled down your face as the droplets of tears landed on the table. 

“It worked,” he chuckled, bitterly. “The meaner I was to you, the easier it was to forget you. And every time I did something nice for you, I had to do something ten times worse the next time. Seeing how much pain you were in...it broke me but it always reminded me that my intentions were never pure to begin with. That’s why I always went to Jisoo. I confided in her.”

“Why did you ask me to marry you then?”

“He had already beat me at marriage - marrying the girl Father chose. Nothing would hurt him more than knowing I had you and he could never. I admit I ended up using you,” he revealed as tears fall from the corner of his eyes. You lifted your head up, staring at the ceiling as tears continued to fall down the side of your cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized. 

“H-how can you say you love me when you used me?!” you sobbed. 

“I knew it was wrong! I regretted it instantly but it was too late. You needed the money...” he whimpered. “If I could go back and change it I would. I would’ve loved you properly, cherished you..” he begged. 

“God!” you whimpered to yourself. “Why did you do this to me?! I was happy! I had a boyfriend!” you cried, angrily.

“I know. I know. I’m so sorry,” he continued to apologize.

“I’m not some fucking reward you can claim when you feel like it! I loved you! I thought if I worked harder, tried harder, that you would start to love me! I was praying you’d change for me!” you continued to shout. “Are you that damaged that you had to break someone else to make yourself feel better?”

“I was 16! I never felt the way I felt for you with anyone in my life! How was I supposed to react? Tell me! What was I supposed to do?!” he shouted back.

You sobbed into your hand.

“I know this doesn’t justify all the shitty things I’ve done to you. You endured things no one should have to experience,” he explained.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Y/N, I’m telling you not because I want you to forgive me! I’m going to sign the papers regardless. All I wanted was to be honest about my feelings for once in my goddamn life,” he said. 

You blinked slowly, letting the remaining tears in your eyes fall. You took a deep breath in. “When were you able to tell?”

“Our wedding night,” he answered. “Watching you walk down the aisle in that white dress. You took my breath away and in that moment I knew. I knew I loved you this whole time. It was never about competing with Jaebum. I was just afraid to let myself fall in love.”

“If you loved me so much, why did you sleep with other women? Why did you cheat?”

“Because with them, I never had to worry about falling in love. They mean nothing to me,” he explained.

“But they don’t know that! They think you like them that’s why they sleep with you, Jinyoung.”

“They know I’m married.”

“To someone you don’t love. They think they can Mrs. Park one day,” you sighed. “Stop playing with people’s feelings. Don’t hurt anyone else,” you asked, nicely. You paused, “If there’s one last thing you can do for me is learn to let go. What your Father did to your Mother was unfair and cruel but you don’t have to repeat the pattern. Learn to love the people you’re supposed to love. You’ll find that you have more people on your side than you know.”

“Will you be?”

“Oh Jinyoung…” you called out as you reached for his hand. You gripped it tightly. “I will always be on your side even if I’m not physically there with you.”

There was a light knock on the door. You let go of Jinyoung’s hand and wiped the leftover tears on your cheeks away.

“Come in,” he called.

“The papers are finalized. All that’s left is your signature.” The lawyers handed you each a pen. You scanned through the document until you reached the bottom of the page.

“I know you don’t want money but it will always be here if you need it. You just call me, okay?” Jinyoung asked, softly. You nodded but you knew you would never be calling him.

You uncapped the pen and began signing with Jinyoung following suite until you reached the final page. 

This was it. No more Jinyoung.

“If we can do this over again, would you?” Jinyoung asked, spontaneously. “If you knew what you know now, would you still have said yes to me?”

You looked up from the papers and stared at him - taking in all his features one the last time. “Yes.” You scribbled your signature on the last page before standing up. “Goodbye Jinyoung. Take care.”

Four months. Four months of no pain, no tears, no Jinyoung. You moved away from the city to get away from the fast pace lifestyle, the busy streets and the people. You were content here. You spent your days helping an old couple sell fruit and pies in a small shop by a rest stop. The pay wasn’t nearly as much as a corporation but it didn’t matter to you. You could finally be yourself. You didn’t have to worry about being the perfect wife or worry if your husband loved you enough to come home that night. All that seemed trivial here. 

“How much are the apple pies?” you hear someone asked. You scurried out to the front to greet the customer. 

“They’re $5-” you began to respond before coming to a stop as you laid eyes on the man in front of you. “I- how did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t,” he responded. “I was taking your advice and finally letting go. I gave up my position at the company and decided to move here to live a more simple life.”

“Why here?”

“I-I don’t know...this was the first place I thought of,” he mumbled. “I guess I remembered you saying how much you wanted to move here when it was time to retire.”

“You remembered that?”

“Of course I do. I remember everything you told me even if it seemed like I wasn’t listening,” he explained. “So how much are the pies?”

“$5 each,” you said hesitantly as you handed him a pie.

“I honestly didn’t come here to purposely look for you. I know the last thing you wanted was to see me. I can leave if it bothers you,” he offered.

“No...who am I to not allow you to be here.”

“Okay then. I’ll see you around then,” he smiled before waving goodbye.

You returned the smile and watched him drive away. You thought you would be angry seeing him; maybe even feel hurt. But nothing. You didn’t feel any of those things. In fact, your heart raced at the sight of him. 

Maybe this was fate. Maybe it was God’s way of telling you this is your second chance. 

Whatever it was, no matter how it ends this time, you knew it wasn’t going to hurt as much as the first. 

[rwprincess]

Head Over Feet (Brian Johnson x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Word Count: 4.8k

Synopsis: What’s that sound? It’s another anachronistic Brian Johnson songfic! (Based on Alanis Morissette’s Head Over Feet) You’re one of Bender’s trash-punk friends and things change drastically when he brings the scrawny brain from detention with him to meet you all. Set up in snippets, your relationship develops with Brian, even if you weren’t really looking for a relationship.

CW: Teenage smoking (including reader), swearing, parental abuse (being being kicked out), sexism, angst and fluff

“This is Johnson,” Bender indicated the boy he brought along to your group’s spot under the bleachers.

“Brian, please.” The kid corrected. You eyed the gangly youth from top to bottom; in his sweater over a crisply-ironed collared shirt and khakis, he definitely didn’t fit in here with you all. You’d be called grungy punks at best. You didn’t think any of you even owned an iron and crisp definitely wasn’t your style. You blew out a puff of smoke, exhaling the nicotine from your lungs and shifted your gaze to Bender, wondering what he was at with this. He wasn’t the best guy, but pranking this preppy little nerd by bringing him down to your hangout? That seemed beneath him.

“You, uh, running some kinda charity here, Bender? We’re not exactly Make-A-Wish material, kid.” Scorch told the blonde dweeb and you snorted at the thought.

“Shut the fuck up,” was all Bender said in response. The rest of the twenty minutes of Brian Johnson standing there was of course, incredibly awkward and it was clear to everyone that he didn’t fit in. But that didn’t stop him from coming back a week later. And again a few days after that. And again and again until, well, that dork had grown on the lot of you. While he didn’t partake in cigarette smoking like most of you, he did take Bender up on his weed on several occasions and was actually really funny while high. He did weirdly spot-on impressions and had a sense of humor that none of your group had anticipated.

And, as much as you would vehemently deny it, you liked him when he was sober, too. He was incredibly smart and helpful and while his jokes were different without marijuana in his system, he could be amusing. That first awkward encounter was back in March, maybe April. But now you spent time with him without the convenience of school pulling you together. Now it was June and you sought to spend time with him, even without the group. Tonight, you were laying in a field not far from the high school, just the two of you. You liked to listen to him ramble on about the constellations and the myths about why they were named as they were. You remembered liking that as a kid, but you didn’t remember most of the stories. You knew you could ask him questions about the actual stars, too. Like, the science of it, and he would know. But you’d rather let him ramble and tackle one subject at a time. Even though he focused more on science and math, he was a pretty good storyteller, and right now that provided you with more of an escape than talking about the chemical composition of a star. When he finished his retelling of Ursa Minor’s story, however, he remained silent and didn’t start up a new piece of lore. After a moment, you looked at him to see what the hold up was, but you just caught his eye as his gaze was already fixed on you. Your heart started pounding in your chest because you knew what was coming.

“You know, we could go on an actual date some time.” Brian suggested, breaking the silence. You closed your eyes, almost wincing at the words. He was generally more subtle than this, but the same idea had been brought up before. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Brian. In general, you did, and in the honest depths of your soul, it was as more than a friend. But, every time it came down to this subject, you panicked. You had never been serious with anyone and the thought of dating was completely foreign to you. You had messed around with some guys before but you never had feelings for them. You didn’t know how to depend on another person, to have an actual relationship with them.

I had no choice but to hear you

You stated your case time and again

I thought about it

You sighed, your eyes still closed. You didn’t know what to tell him. Before, he always left it as more of a hint and it was easier to dodge. Now he was just coming out and saying it. Basically asking you out, so you would actually have to turn him down this time. The terrible thing was, you didn’t really want to. The conscious side of you wanted to agree and go out with him, on a proper date. But your subconscious kicked you into fight or flight mode and if you weren’t in the middle of a field, you might have picked flight and walked away. But that didn’t seem to be an option.

“Look, Johnson. It’s not that easy. Just...don’t waste your time on me.”

“I’m already wasting my time on you.” He pointed out, but when you took a peek at him, he didn’t seem upset about it. He was actually grinning about it. “We’re already wasting our time out here. Or at the library, or under the bleachers… So why not like, a movie theater or dinner, or my house?”

“Oh yeah, your mom would love having me around.” You joked, humorlessly. The smattering of times you had met Brian’s mother hadn’t gone swimmingly. You could read the derision in her voice and knew she did not approve of her good little baby hanging out with a ne’er-do-well like you.

“She’d come around. You’re different once someone actually gets to know you.” He meant it as a compliment, but you took it as your out.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You leapt up, indignantly and he just gaped at you like a fish out of water.

“I didn’t mean anything bad by it, I swear!” He put his hands up defensively as you looked down at him. “Forget it, I’m sorry.” You had victory, he dropped the subject and your friendship could last another night and you could try to pretend like he wasn’t right, that you two weren’t meant to be something more.

*~~~~*

You treat me like I'm a princess

I'm not used to liking that

You ask how my day was

For the most part, working at Bert’s auto shop felt worthwhile and valuable. Other days, it chewed you up and spit you out. It was hard being in such a masculine environment and not fitting into that type. Customers (mostly men, but even the women too) thought that you were less knowledgeable and handy than your cohorts. Bender’s teasing didn’t help that image, either.

Now you slid into the booth at Gino’s pizzeria utterly deflated and defeated. Of course, Brian took notice right away. “Rough day?” He inquired, pushing a menu towards you even though he knew you ordered the same thing every time.

“That’s not even the half of it. Why does Bender hafta be such a dick all the time?!” You asked, incredulously but sincerely, diving right into your problem.

“I don’t know. I think he thinks it’s part of his charm? Maybe it is. I mean, we’re still friends with him.” You nodded at his point, but clenched your fists just the same.

“I just wish he knew when to back off sometimes. Like, he never realizes he’s taking it too far and digging you further into a shithole.”

“What did he do this time?” Brian’s gaze on you was unbroken; it made you feel important, like your opinion, your story, was the only thing that mattered.

“So we got this old guy in the shop today. Beautiful car, so of course he was hesitant with me touching it.” You began and his eyebrows furrowed, already not liking the direction this was going. “And I’m trying to prove myself worthy to work on this car, even though I would just be doing an oil change, which isn’t like a big deal anyway, right? Simple stuff.” You looked to him to get acknowledgement to move forward.

“I mean, I guess. I don’t really know about oil changes or anything about cars. But I know you do.”

“Right, so Bender has to go and make a crack to the old guy about how they won’t let me near it and I’m just the secretary for the shop or whatever. Just a total dick move. But of course the guy believed him and laughed with him and sent me to go get him a cup of coffee? I mean, what the hell is that?”

“That’s not right. And you wear a mechanic’s uniform at work, why would he think--?”

“Because macho man Bender told him I was! He was more believable than me.” You sank back and put a hand up to brace your forehead as the waitress approached the table. You prepared to order your drink when she set down exactly what you would have ordered in front of you and walked away, promising to come back in a few minutes. You blinked at the cup as if it magically had appeared.

“I uh, figured you’d get the usual and you’d need it when you got here, so I ordered for you. I hope that’s okay.” Brian said and then looked away, suddenly embarrassed by the idea. Since he wasn’t looking at you anyway, you allowed your lips to twitch up into a smile threatening to break out on your face...but only for a moment.

“Yeah, whatever. So anyway, Bender…” you carried on, pretending nothing happened, but secretly cataloguing his gesture in your memory.

*~~~~*

The only thing worse than arguing with Brian or him pissing you off was him making you laugh. There were times that you would go home with sore sides and itchy eyes from the tears that formed while laughing so hard. Then you would always, always reflect on the hours you just spent together, feeling the warmth and butterflies tickle your insides and a nervous heat would prickle your skin as you thought about how happy Brian made you. He never pushed you to do anything; he liked you the way you were. Sure, he would drop hints here and there about how you should stop smoking or give you advice when you had a particularly bad argument with one of your friends, but overall, he just accepted you. And you knew how hard that was to find.

You had never been popular and when junior high rolled around, you accepted that you never would be. You found your own little group of outcasts who understood what it was like to be kicked down time and again, and now he had somehow joined that group too. You knew he understood how it felt. Even though he looked different and came from a very different social circle, he had been looked down upon by his peers all his life. You were guilty of judging him the same way when you first met him, but now you couldn’t imagine life without him. He was cut of the same cloth and you could see yourself in him, which is why you just clicked. And he was so kind and so patient with you. You tried to push him away dozens of times, to put up the barriers and the walls that worked so well for everyone that came before him; you couldn’t be hurt if you never got attached. Where most people gave up and only saw the cold, distant bitch you gave them, Brian always saw something more. He didn’t give up in breaking down those walls, and even accepted just being your friend. That made you love him even more.

Shit, wait. Did you just think about loving Brian? A crush is one thing. Having a buddy to fool around with is one thing. Being in love was quite another.

You've already won me over in spite of me

Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn't help it

It's all your fault

*~~~~*

Mercedes Johnson was all about keeping up appearances, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t hear her arguing with Brian on the other side of the door, about you. Again. You had known from the second you met her that she didn’t like you. She was instantly worried about the influence you’d have on her son; it was a common reaction from parents based on the way you looked and the company you kept. You would think you’d be used to it by now.

However, it truthfully bothered you more because this was Brian’s mother. You were hoping that she would be different and see the person underneath like her son had, or at the very least, that she would eventually warm up to you. You had no luck with either.

“I’m not comfortable with having her over at the house right now.” You could hear her tell Brian.

“She’s my friend, ma. Of course she’s going to come over--”

“I’m aware of that but you know I wish she weren’t. I would prefer that you keep the company of other friends.” The formality of her sentences while she was still cruelly putting you both down made you cringe.

“You don’t know her because you won’t give her a chance. She’s not that different from my other friends.”

“You have friends in the Physics Club, from Knowledge Bowl, Honor Students. You don’t need the association with a hoodlum like that or John Bender and I don’t know why you keep insisting on bringing them into my home when I have repeatedly told you no. I don’t want them around your sister, or even you!”

“Fine. Then we’ll leave.” You heard the door swing open harshly and Brian was motioning for you to follow him out of the house.

“Brian Ralph Johnson!” You heard his mother cry after the two of you. Brian held open the front door for you and you looked at him cautiously before rushing out. You knew you weren’t wanted there, but you were worried that he wouldn’t come with you. You were even more worried that he would. “You are not leaving this house.” Mercedes put on the most intimidating tone you had witnessed her use.

“No, I am. We are. I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t bother coming back tonight if you walk out of this house!” She was now pink-faced and losing all of the reserved, polished look you had seen her have. She had never been so...uncomposed.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Brian said and grabbed you by the elbow as he escorted you down the driveway to your car. He immediately got into the passenger seat and as you sunk behind the steering wheel, you glanced at him.

“Brian, this is stupid. You don’t have to---you shouldn’t do this.” The whole situation reminded you of the many times you had been kicked out of your house. This was just another home you weren’t welcome in.

He clenched his jaw in response. “Let’s just go. I’ll figure it out later. Please, just drive.”

Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole

You're so much braver than I gave you credit for

That's not lip service

“Your mom gave you a choice, you know. It’s not like she told you to get out. She actually told you not to leave.” You said as you both sat on the trunk of your car, looking out across the field that was slowly turning to a golden hue, both from the afternoon sun and the change into autumn. Neither of your houses were really an option to go to, so you just chose the empty field that you would look at stars in during the summer.

“It’s not like it was really a choice though, was it? I’m tired of her trying to control every part of my life. I need to start thinking for myself, doing things for myself. She needs to understand that I’m going to do what I want, and like who I want to like.” He looked at you meaningfully for a moment, but you looked away quickly. It was too heavy for you to process right now.

“That’s a big step. I’m really impressed with you for standing up for yourself.” You told him, and he gave you an appreciative, heart-stopping smile in return that caused your cheeks to flush. Your parents had shouted at you to leave so many times before, any time you were ‘inconvenient’ for them, that it was hard to relate to someone who chose not to stay. But you wanted to support him and you did feel proud of him today. You thought back to the most recent event in which you had been dismissed from your family, and how you had tried to take it out on Brian:

You slammed your locker and watched him almost jump out of his skin. “I don’t want to talk about this.” You growled at Brian.

“I understand that, but you need to. You can’t just--”

“Just what?”

“You can’t just act like nothing happened or run away from it...run away from here.” You had been disciplined at school yet again and your parents had had enough. You had a big fight with them the night prior and did not sleep in your own bed. The tiredness racked your body today and you were stiff from sleeping in your car. If it weren’t for the social aspect, you wouldn’t have bothered coming to school. But you quickly realized you weren’t in the mood to talk to anyone, and you were only making the situation worse.

“Like hell I can’t.” You stated, quickly turning to walk away.

“Y/N, don’t. Come on, talk to me. Tell me what happened. We can figure it out together.”

“There’s nothing to figure out, bucko. I’ll be fine. I’ll do this on my own. I’m used to that anyway.”

“But you don’t have to be alone, Y/N. That’s what I’m saying! That’s my whole point: I’m here for you!”

“I didn’t ask you to be, Brian.”

“No, because friends don’t have to ask.” His words scared you. Nobody had so adamantly offered to be a safety net to you before.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, “we’re great friends. We’ve bonded so much in the, what, four months you’ve known me?” You rolled your eyes, trying to make him feel uncomfortable, to drive a wedge between you. You only knew how to put up walls, how to run.

“You know we are.”

“Yeah, sure, right. Friends. Not like you want to sleep with me or anything.” You tried to drive another knife into him, to play it off like he was following you only because he had a crush on you, one you tried to pretend wasn’t reciprocated. “It’s not going to happen, Brian. So just accept that we’re not friends.”

He let you get about three steps away before you heard him say, “No. I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work. Sure, part of me wants something more, but...I care about you, Y/N. And if we can just be friends, I am happy with that, I swear. But don’t do this to me. Don’t try to shut me out or walk away or act like you’re fine. I know you well enough to know you’re not.” When you turned around, you could see that he had tears rimming his eyes, threatening to fall, which made your own tears spring up as well. “I am your friend. I’m not going to just let you go and do something stupid. You are going to talk about this. If not to me, then someone else. But you can’t just run away or sleep in your car or, or…”

“Okay.” You said, softly.

“Okay?”

“Fine, let’s talk about it. I screwed up again and my parents kicked me out. So what do I do?”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I...we’ll think of something.” He began to tell you, but you bit your lip and drowned him out in your own sobs. Everything crashed in on you at once; you hadn’t escaped in time. You slid down your locker wall and sat on the floor. Brian joined you and put his arm around you tentatively.

You are the bearer of unconditional things

You held your breath and the door for me

Thanks for your patience

After that day, you knew he wouldn’t let you go. You tried your best to brush him off, to hurt him, to land irreparable blows. But it was all in vain; he stuck by you. You admired how he stood up for you, for your relationship, whatever that meant. He didn’t back down, even though you knew he genuinely cared what you thought. He was willing to put everything on the line just to be with you, in whatever capacity you would allot him. And today, he had chosen you again. He had picked a fight with his mother and chosen you. He placed you above being safe and comfortable and at home right now.

“I’m sorry, this must seem so stupid to be complaining about. I know I don’t have it that bad, it’s just that--”

“No, your problems are valid, too. Your mom sucks.” You told him and he laughed, “But I would be lying if I said it wasn’t...weird to have someone be given the choice to stay instead of being yelled at to get out and that you’re worthless and---I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make this about me.” You said softly, looking down at your hands.

“No, I get it. It’s gotta be on your mind a lot, the uncertainty. Plus, I don’t mind talking about you.” He nudged your shoulder with his own, trying to be playful but you knew he meant that. He always put you first. You couldn’t help your next impulse as your hand shot up to cup his face and you leaned in and kissed him roughly. You weren’t entirely sure why you had done it. It would probably change everything and you couldn’t tell if you were doing it selfishly to feel like someone cared or to keep him around or because you truly wanted to. Of course, he kissed you back, and the feeling it gave you pushed a lot of those doubts from your mind.

You're the best listener that I've ever met

You're my best friend

Best friend with benefits

What took me so long?

*~~~~*

The kiss in the field still didn’t mean you were “together.” Realistically, it complicated things for a while. You avoided Brian for a couple of days and didn’t discuss it when you finally caved in to your desire to see him. He didn’t bring it up either, even though there were many times he would look at your lips like he wanted to make a move again, but you never talked about it. Things began to look “normal” after about two weeks. You spent time at the record shop, or under the bleachers with your friends or in the library with his friends. He nagged you about giving up smoking and you finally listened, much to his surprise.

“What made you finally decide to quit?” He asked, looking at the nicotine patch on your arm. You shrugged, not wanting to tell him the truth.

“I guess I just finally got tired of you being a broken record, mother hen.” You teased him, but he just smiled because he was happy with your choice. The truth of the matter was, you had done it for him. While you weren’t with him, you wanted to be. You didn’t want to keep doing something that bothered him so much, but you also knew that eventually, your habit of smoking would cost time with him and you didn’t want that. You lied to yourself that you didn’t want a relationship and weren’t thinking about a future with Brian, but you were. Every time he helped you study or encouraged you to do your best, the time your parents were out of town so he had made you his “specialty” of spaghetti in your kitchen, when you drove him around singing songs together on the radio...you thought about doing those things with him forever and instead of the fear you used to feel at such a thought, you felt happiness. You anticipated a future with him, something to look forward to.

I've never felt this healthy before

I've never wanted something rational

I am aware now

I am aware now

*~~~~*

“It’s kind of weird, yeah. But they’re cute together, I guess.” You had just returned from a movie with Bender and Claire. You were surprised at how long their relationship had lasted, especially since you had hated Claire at first. You assumed she was dating Bender as a statement, but it had been over six months and they were still together and it just seemed to work.

“It must be nice to have someone like that. Even if they don’t make sense, they care about each other. It just must be a nice thing to have a relationship like that.” Brian looked at you for a moment before backpedaling, realizing he must have made it sound like he was guilt-tripping you. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask you out again. I really just was complimenting them--”

“Well, maybe you should.” You cut him off.

You realized how rare a find like Brian truly was. He always put you before himself; he listened to all of your problems and knew when to offer solutions and when to just listen. He was endlessly supportive, and kind. He kept taking giant risks just to be with you, to show you that you mattered to him. You knew, without him saying it, that he loved you. Why else would someone go to the lengths he did, just to make you happy? You had tried everything to shake him, to get rid of him so neither one of you would be in too deep to get hurt. But he stayed, and now, you wouldn’t want him to go anyway. It was too late; you were both already in too deep.

He just blinked at you, sure he had heard incorrectly. “Wh-what?”

“I said, maybe you should. Ask me out again.”

“Y/N, do you want to go out with me?” He asked, unsure. It felt like a setup, but he knew you wouldn’t do something so cruel to him.

“Yes.” You replied, softly.

“Why?” He asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“I don’t know. I guess you won me over.” You chuckled, but he failed to see the humor in it, so you changed to a more serious tone. “Brian, I thought that these feelings would go away, that you would go away. Lord knows how hard I’ve tried to push you. But...you didn’t and the feelings didn’t. I-I love you. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to keep loving you, I don’t want to waste my time with anyone else. And...And I think that you love me.”

“I do.” He breathed quietly, with zero hesitation.

“So, why fight it any more? I was afraid that I would hurt you, but I think I’ve already done that and you’ve stuck around.” He nodded in confirmation of that fact. “And I was scared that I would get hurt but...but I’ve realized that you won’t do that to me, either.”

You've already won me over in spite of me

Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet

And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn't help it

It's all your fault

He took your hands in his, “You’re serious? You really want this? Because, you know how I feel. How I’ve always felt.” You nodded in response, tears quickly filling your eyes, which was a rarity for you. He leaned in towards you to kiss you, for the first time since your conversation in the field over a month ago. He waited for you to be ready in every aspect of your relationship and you had never known so much love and respect before. It took some adjusting to, but he had pulled you in and made you fall for him again and again.

Just gonna tag my buddy...

@90sinequity

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Mute

Prompt: I absolutely adore your writing! Could I ask for a request too, please? I was thinking of a back-and-forth between Janus and Logan, just lies after truths after lies, until one snaps and accidentally causes the other to lose the ability to speak? Since they can both technically change the reality around them. Either the recipient becomes forcibly mute or the very angsty "sowed up mouth" method. Whoever caused the other to lose their speech freaks out and tries their best to fix their mess while apologising. Either a platonic or romantic ending -whichever you decide- but with at least a happy ending please? - willowaudreykeyes

Thanks for the prompts, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic janus, logan gets his mouth sewn shut but it's okay we fix it

Pairings: can be platonic or romantic I don't care, but we hit logince, rociet, lociet

Word Count: 2922

He doesn’t even remember how it started.

Or, an argument between Logan and Janus spirals dangerously out of hand, and powers in the Mindscape are sometimes more curses than blessings.

It hadn’t been something Thomas knew about, it hadn’t been a group discussion—he doesn’t think the others know where they are. Virgil is probably in his room, Roman is working in the Imagination, Patton is baking with Remus.

He doesn’t remember how it started.

He does know how they got here.

“I fail to see what use this is,” Logan had grumbled, standing up from the library table, “I will be better off figuring this out myself.”

“Oh, yes, of course, because that’s always gone so well for you in the past.”

Logan’s eyes had flashed with anger he still denies he has. “I fail to see what gives you the opinion that you have any right to complain.”

“Because I’m certainly the one saying that I’ve done all my best work alone.”

Janus had smirked cruelly as Logan shoved his glasses back up his nose and pointed a finger at him. “Your track record, may I remind you, has certainly shown that.”

Janus had thrown his head back and cackled, filled with mirth that sat like rot in the pit of his stomach. “And yet I managed to do so much more in the few times I appeared than you.”

“Oh, like that’s the same thing.”

He had held his hand to his mouth in a mock gasp. “Why, Logan, surely you can’t be insinuating that you think the others are incompetent. How hurtful, what on earth would they say?”

“I did not say that.”

“But you meant it, didn’t you?” Janus had morphed his expression into a mock pout. “They’re all so slow, so irrational, all they do is get in the way, they’re so irritating.”

“You’re attempting to convince me that I said something I did not,” Logan had said firmly, “it will not work. The meaning of my remark, as you are aware, was that you, as your role in the videos, have an easier time disrupting the flow of conversation that I do as a member of the main cast.”

Logan had ignored—or perhaps not noticed—the subtle tightening of Janus’s fist. He had simply sniffed and looked down his nose.

“And even then, it’s a surprise you haven’t been more capable.”

Janus had bared his teeth. “Yes, because obviously, you could’ve done better.”

“Oh, please.” Logan had tucked his notebook into the crook of his arm. “Can you name one of your haphazard schemes that actually worked?”

Janus had gritted his teeth as Logan opened the notebook and began to read down the list.

“Your attempt to get Thomas to lie to Joan failed when Roman started to believe that lying was wrong as well, leading to Thomas discovering your true identity.”

“By all means,” Janus had growled, “keep going.”

“Most notably, your attempt to get Thomas to go to the callback backfired quite spectacularly—something that wouldn’t have happened in quite the same fashion had you actually let me participate—“

“Keep talking, Logan,” he’d said again, inching closer to the nerd, “that’s a wonderful idea.”

“—and of course, led to what is the most disruptive event in recent memory,” Logan had continued, undaunted, “the wedding.”

Janus hadn’t even bothered with words this time, reaching for the notebook with a growl. Logan had tucked it away before he could reach it.

“Tell me,” he had said, “was it worth it? Knowing how much it cost us?”

“Surely,” Janus had growled back, “then you know it’s not because you didn’t do your job well enough.”

Logan had stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

“Well surely you haven’t realized that the reason I was able to make it into that video in the first place,” Janus had said smoothly, sliding back into the ‘villain’ persona Logan has so graciously cast him in, “was that you were so painfully easy to replace.”

“Falsehood,” Logan had said lowly.

Janus had raised his hand again. “Oh, so you did notice. Splendid. Then you know that when it comes to pushing blame around the Mindscape—“

He had leaned closer.

“—you’re where we should be looking too.”

“I am—“

“Easy to overlook,” Janus had sung, prowling around Logan in a circle, “easy to silence. And surely there’s no correlation between when you attempt to override the others and when Thomas gets hurt. You want to talk about my failures? Then let’s not forget getting the others trapped in Patton’s room, shall we?”

Logan’s fists had tightened. “That’s not—“

“After all,” Janus had continued, speaking over him to illustrate his point, “if I’m to blame for knocking all the dominos down, you certainly didn’t give me a hand setting them up.”

“As if that in any way equivocates to what you did,” Logan had spat, the emotionless facade finally giving way as he whirled of Janus, “I did not use, manipulate, and lie to get the others to do what I want.”

“Oh, of course you didn’t.”

“And if I did, my lies would be nowhere near as comically obvious.”

“Ah, yes, of course you’re never comical.” Janus had tapped Logan’s flushed cheek. “The possibilities of you being a joke have always been…infinitesimal.”

Logan had bared his teeth as Janus chuckled. “At least my concept of a joke never hurt anyone.”

Logan’s mouth had tugged up cruelly too.

“Setting Remus loose on Thomas when you knew he was already upset, pushing the others to follow on whatever path you decided was best. And let’s not even start on what you did to Roman.”

Janus had flinched.

“Have you ever apologized?” Logan had shaken his head. “For everything that you’ve done to hurt him?”

“Have you?”

The room had dropped several degrees.

Janus had dropped the villain persona, staring directly at Logan.

“You want to talk about hurting the others, hurting Roman,” he had said lowly, “what do you think it is that you do?”

Logan had opened his mouth to speak but Janus had raised a finger.

“No. Do you know how much you’ve hurt him? Over how many years you’ve made him ashamed of who he is?” He had shaken his head. “I know I’ve hurt him. But you don’t seem to recognize it.”

He had looked Logan up and down, mouth curled in disgust.

“Maybe I’m not good enough at my job for your liking, but I sure was good at yours.” He had raised an eyebrow. “Maybe they wanted you silenced permanently. They did press the ‘skip’ button, after all.”

He had looked for the shadow of the bruise on Logan’s neck.

“And it was so easy to replace you. To silence you properly.”

He had turned away, not bothering to look at Logan’s face.

“Maybe I should do them a favor and keep you quiet.”

There had been a strangled gasp behind him.

“Oh, what,” Janus had drawled, turning around, “did you finally realize you don’t have a smart comeback for…”

The room had frozen.

…so that’s how they got here.

Janus, standing a few paces from Logan, turning back to face him, the sharp quip dying on the edge of his lips as his mouth drops open in horror, staring back.

Logan, his eyes wide, shining with unshed tears, glasses blurred and obscured by the bright light shining from the golden stitches that sew his mouth shut.

Logan raises trembling hands to his mouth, feeling the stitches, tears rolling down his face. His fingers disappear into the bright golden light as he fumbles with his mouth, until he realizes that he can’t.

The strangled scream lingers in Janus’s head long after Logan shrinks into a crouch on the floor.

No.

No.

No, no, no, no—no, not Logan. Not Logan.

“Oh, god—“ Logan’s hands keep pressing fruitlessly against his mouth— “no, oh, god, Logan—“

He runs back, ready to crouch and pry Logan’s hands away before he hurts himself, chest splitting open from the ache of hurting the poor thing like this.

He doesn’t think it could hurt more.

Like so many other times today, he’s wrong.

The instant Logan catches a glimpse of him moving toward him, he shoves himself away, scrambling backward until his back hits the wall. Eyes wide, breathing as heavily as he can through the stitches, utterly terrified.

As he has every right to be.

“No, no, Logan,” he murmurs frantically, “no, it’s okay, I’m not trying to hurt you—“

Does it matter that you’re not trying? You certainly were earlier.

“—I promise, Logan, please, I’m—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Through the pants, the sobs, the shakiness of his chest, Logan huffs, disbelieving.

“I didn’t, Logan, I promise.” Janus drops to his knees in front of the crying man. “I—we went too far. I’m sorry, I didn’t know this would happen, I didn’t mean to, please—“

The poor thing presses himself further against the wall. Janus swallows, feeling guilt press hot and heavy against the underside of his tongue. He reaches out, trying desperately to show him that he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to, he doesn’t actually believe anything he just said, he’s nothing but a liar, a horrible liar, please—

“I didn’t mean it, Logan, I promise, you’re—you’re not replaceable, I don’t want you silenced, the others don’t hate you, they don’t want you gone, I’m sorry—“

Slowly, too slowly, and not slowly enough, Logan’s breathing begins to settle. His eyes lose that awful whiteness and he slumps a little against the wall. His cheeks are damp, his glasses knocked askew, but he stares at Janus and slowly, slowly, nods.

“L-Logan?”

Another nod, a little less hesitant.

Janus’s shoulders slump. “Oh, Logan, why does it always end up with you being the better person?”

A tiny quirk of the eyebrow, nowhere near Logan’s typical sass levels, but it’s enough. It’s enough. Enough to make a weak smile come to Janus’s face.

“Can I come over, please? Can I come help?”

Logan nods, still wary as Janus shuffles across the floor. Before he makes it all the way there, he tugs off his gloves and stuffs them in his pocket.

“There,” he says quietly, wiggling his fingers to get used to it, “don’t want the fibers getting caught on anything.”

Logan’s wide-eyed stare tells him he knows why Janus really took the gloves off. Something Janus confirms a moment later.

“And I want you to know that I mean it.” He reaches forward. “Can I touch?”

Logan still flinches when Janus runs his thumb carefully over the cruel stitches sewing Logan’s mouth shut. He winces as he takes in how taut the thread is, how many stitches there are.

“Oh, Logan, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, “does it hurt very badly?”

Another miserable nod.

Then it clicks.

Logan.

The one who submits least to the Imagination. The one who tethers himself tightly to the fact that they are metaphysical, they are subjective, they need not subject themselves to real-world consequences of whatever nonsense the other Sides pull.

Logan still has the stitches.

It threatens to break Janus’s heart all over again.

“Oh, sweetie,” he murmurs, cupping Logan’s face and slipping his glasses to the top of his head, “I’ve hurt you more than this, haven’t I?”

For indeed, if Logan is too upset to remember how to pull himself out of turns of phrase, then the poor thing is distraught.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, gently wiping away Logan’s tears, “it’s okay, sweetie, I’m not going to hurt you, it’s over, I’m not angry, I’m going to take care of you.”

And oh, the way Logan pushes shyly into his hands feels warm.

“Does this help, sweetie, is this alright?” At Logan’s nod, he moves, tucking Logan’s legs across his lap with his other hands. “Come here, yes—that’s it, shh, I’ve got you, you just focus on me.”

Logan’s eyes fall closed and a muffled whimper comes from his throat.

“I’ve got you, sweetie, I’m right here,” Janus murmurs, still cupping the poor thing’s head as it leans into him, “shh, shh, let’s get you a little calmer before we have a look, okay?”

Logan gives a huff of ‘what do you think I’m trying to do?’

“I know you know that, sweetie,” he chuckles, lifting Logan’s head to gently knock their foreheads together, “you’re clever. Our resident brain cell.”

He wraps one hand around the back of his neck.

“It’s just like what you taught us, remember? Object impermanence. This won’t last forever. I’m right here. You were so brave, you are so brave, so wonderful, so sweet…just give yourself time, sweetie, it’s okay.”

Logan relaxes a little in his hold as he keeps talking quietly. The poor thing gets over his hesitation and buries his face shamelessly in the crook of Janus’s neck.

“Shh, shh, that’s it, sweetie, easy now—“ Janus cradles him as he sets his glasses out of the way— “I’ve got you. I’m right here, sweetie, I’ve got you. It’s almost over, now, you can do it, shh.”

Another muffled noise from Logan.

“You’re not easily replaceable,” Janus says firmly, “you’re not unwanted. You’re not a joke, the others know how much you care about them, how much you help them, how important they are to you, how important you are to them.”

He tilts his head to press a kiss to Logan’s temple.

“How important you are to me.”

The golden light dims, sputters, and vanishes.

“…sweetie?”

Logan pulls back, carefully rubbing his fingers over his stitch-free mouth. He opens and closes a few times.

“Ouch.”

“Are you alright, sweet? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“I know,” Logan says quietly, “I’m sorry too. That…escalated very quickly. I did not mean the things I said either.”

He squints.

“Oh, here—“ Janus passes him his glasses.

“Thank you. But that’s not why I—what were we arguing about, to begin with?”

Janus huffs a laugh. “I had been meaning to ask you that question.”

“Well, whatever it is, it must not have been very important.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry too,” Logan repeats after that pause, “you are not just a villain, you are not incompetent, and you…you are not to blame for everything that has gone wrong.”

Janus chucks him lightly under the chin. “Neither are you.”

“I know that, intellectually, and yet…somehow, it remains difficult for me to grasp.”

“Because even though you’re Logic, sweetie,” Janus says, “you’re Thomas’s Logic.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because Thomas is, frankly, something of a dumbass.”

It startles a laugh out of him at any rate.

“I mean, that also makes you a dumbass.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly aware.”

Logan’s smile is wonderful. “What is it that Roman is quite fond of saying?”

“That he’s pure of heart, dumb of ass?”

“That’s is.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“It is.” Logan frowns. “Even if he’s far more intelligent than he gets credit for.”

Janus nudges him. “I hope you know that you can be big of brain and dumb of ass at the same time.”

“Ah. I see.”

There’s another moment of silence as they reflect on what’s been said. Then Logan nervously adjusts his tie.

“Speaking of Roman…”

“I was about to say.” Janus gives his knee a pat. “Shall we see if we can find him?”

“I believe his business in the Imagination should be done.” They help each other to stand, Logan keeping a grip on Janus’s sleeve. “Should we check his room first?”

“I think so.”

Roman, of course, swings open the door with a cheerful greeting, the role of the pompous prince firmly in place until he takes in their tear-stained faces and he melts, dropping the act almost immediately.

“Oh, my darlings,” he coos, cupping each of their faces in a hand, “what’s the matter? Why do you look so upset?”

“May we come in, please?” Indeed, poor Logan looks as if he’s about to melt into Roman’s arms. Janus can’t talk, though, he’s about to do the same.

“Of course, come on, let’s get you sat down—“

Roman bustles about the room, fetching them a glass of water, sitting on his bed with them, almost bursting into tears himself when he hears what’s happened and promptly telling them they’re going to spend the rest of the day right here, in comfy clothes, watching ridiculously obscure documentaries until Patton and Remus call them down for dinner. They keep a hand on each other at all times, laughing at Janus’s snarky responses to awful narrators, Logan’s quick corrections when the information is out of date, and Roman’s impersonations of the strange wildlife. Roman’s room is pleasantly noisy and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

He doesn’t remember how it started, but he will always remember how it ended.

Curled around each other, in the warmth and safety of the people who care about him.

General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb  @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions

if you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

[startanewdream]

The road home

Summary: Lily watches Harry and Ginny finding their way back to each other following the end of the war.

Note: For @madhulika18, who asked for more Hinny moments as seen by James and Lily. I could never decide if this is really part of Eyes Glistening (because Harry and Ginny have drama really, and I don't like them having drama), but it works either way, so I hope you enjoy these moments (also, I have a soft spot for Lily and Harry talking, so...)

_______

It’s all about the words that aren’t being said.

Once, a long time ago, Lily lived that with James. But it was different and, though, of course, it didn’t seem like that at the time, it was easier too. Her problems were unknowing her feelings, not understanding why she enjoyed his company and why she craved his smile, his light. She had fancied him for a long time before she understood what it was what she really felt for him — and until then it was only her heart beating faster when they would touch each other without meaning too (a brush of hands, sitting together closer than necessary), enjoying the perfume he’d left on his trace, finding excuses to be with him.

But after she had understood what she felt for him, somehow it had been easy. Awkward, sure, that first date when she was feeling stupid near him — until she remembered this was James, and being with him was good and blissful and then kissing him had felt as natural as breathing —, but there was never a question about how they felt about each other, never doubts that they would be together.

They had fought over many things, until they perfected the art of compromising, of understanding each other’s view, but there was never a breakup, never something that really kept them apart.

They are lucky on this, she knows.

Especially when she sees the look on Harry’s face, the way his eyes can’t help but follow Ginny as she walks around between the tables of the Great Hall, stopping to share words with her friends.

They haven’t talked yet. Lily knows this because Harry was gone with Ron and Hermione after the battle and then he slept for a full day. When he woke up, he called his parents and they talked then — the most difficult conversation Lily had ever had in her life and the one she knew she needed most. She and James. They needed to understand what had happened, why it had cost Harry’s life and what it had meant, but nothing had really prepared her to know her son had died.

Only the thought of it sends shivers through her body.

Harry is fine now, having come down to the Great Hall to lunch; there are fewer people at Hogwarts two days after the Battle, so they manage to find a place for them to sit quietly. It’s almost peaceful.

Except Harry is clearly not at peace.

‘Go talk to her,’ she whispers to him, and Harry turns to her with those eyes that are full of ghosts lately — he has seen and lived and died too much.

‘She doesn’t want me,’ he answers, breathing heavily as if the words are physically hurting him.

‘How do you know?’ James asks, exchanging a confused look with Lily.

‘Because she hasn’t come to talk to me.’

Lily thinks Harry didn’t go to her either, so maybe this is just a case of miscommunication. But she doesn’t say anything, because she believes things have to happen at the right time. And she has been watching Ginny too; every time Harry looks the other way, she glances in his direction, an expression on her face that Lily cannot understand exactly.

It seems to be ablaze.

_______

Later, Lily will define it as a dance where the dancers aren’t supposed to touch each other but still they synchronize their steps perfectly.

It’s unnerving, really, and she doesn’t know how they are really managing it, but if there is a quality she could attribute to both Harry and Ginny is stubbornness.

They can’t ignore each other, not really, not with how much they encounter each other — funerals and homages and dinners over the Burrow and rebuilding Hogwarts —, so instead they adopt a sort of relationship that’s just a shadow of how much they got along together.

Lily saw them before they even dated or had acknowledged their feelings for each other, and Harry and Ginny had shined together with chemistry as if they were two ingredients in a potion that demanded to be together. It was only friendship but there was sparkle and understanding and compassion and brightness. Lily remembers thinking that even if they didn’t develop romantic feelings for each other, they were truly soulmates.

And this is just one of the reasons why their current formal courtesy with each other bothers her so much. If they wanted to be only friends, there wasn’t much she could do. But they are not even friends lately, just two people who had gone through so much and hadn’t been able to share anything with each other despite wanting very much.

That’s the other thing that annoys her. They want more. Both of them.

She knows Harry, of course — he shares the same expressions and he wears his feelings on the same sleeve Lily does, so it’s easy —, and Lily likes to think she knows Ginny too, for the times they met, for all they’ve talked and for the fact that Ginny is usually blatant on her feelings when they are at the edge.

Usually. This time, it seems their stubbornness is getting the better of both of them.

They are alone most of the days of May. Hermione has gone to Australia to find her parents and Ron went with her, and Lily thinks this would be perfect for them to get together again – to have time to talk and to truly live their relationship without the threat of a storm above their heads.

But they don’t go to each other. They stay apart, even though Lily sees the cracks in their stubbornness when Harry breaks a glass after hearing Ginny talking about exchanging letters with an ex-boyfriend, and when Ginny suddenly leaves the room after Harry mentions Kingsley’s proposal to start the Aurors course.

James sees it too. He is always frowning when they are in the same room, and Lily knows no one rooted more for that relationship than James. So she is not surprised that he approaches her one morning when they are cleaning the mess the Death Eaters made in her office.

‘Do you remember when you forbade me from intervening in Harry’s love life?’ he asks in a nonchalant voice, cleaning a stain that looks a lot like blood on the carpet.

Lily nods with her head.

‘Maybe it’s time to change that rule?’ James asks then, now sounding hopeful.

Lily throws him the briefest of the looks, without turning away her attention from the cauldrons she is supposed to check if anything is worth saving.

‘Harry would hate it if we did anything.’

‘Harry would hate it if he knew we were doing anything.’

‘And James Potter can be discreet? How many detentions did you get just because you couldn’t help but flaunt your work?’

He raises his eyebrows challengingly.

‘That Slug Club dinner on my birthday. I was so discreet no one ever found out what we were doing.’

Lily blushes. He was absurdly quiet that night, indeed, despite her attempts otherwise.

‘Fine, you’ve got a point. Go on, but I’m warning you, if Ginny realizes what you are trying to do, she will hex you and I won’t stop.’

‘As long as she hexes me on their wedding day, I won’t complain,’ James says unabashedly, and Lily has to grin.

She is not feeling much confident — James’ love plans took him three years to her agree to date him, after all, and even then she had fallen in love with him when he had given up on any plan at all —, but she can’t deny James is creative and it’s better trying anything than watching Harry sigh all over the place, heartbroken and unhappy.

During the year they were out, their house has been searched over and over; their furniture is broken and there are spots of red ink — or blood — in every room, with curses or slurs written on every wall. They could just easily destroy the house and build a new one, but it feels good to clean the place; it feels like a new beginning.

Maybe this is what James is hoping to give Harry and Ginny because he asks for her help in rebuilding their house. Ginny accepts surprisingly quickly, probably guessing that Harry will still be occupied with the work at Hogwarts.

‘Thanks for the help,’ Lily says after she and Ginny manage to clean the debris away from the stairs, so now the first floor is available for them to start cleaning up the rooms.

‘No problem, it’s good to be out of the house,’ Ginny notes, drying the sweat on her face. ‘Sometimes it feels… too claustrophobic there.’

Lily raises her eyebrows, indicating around the hall, where the number of things still to be organized makes the corridor seem a lot smaller than it is. Ginny gives a small chuckle.

‘It’s just — Mom is trying to compensate, I think. Ron is not here and I am the youngest and she needs to take care of something, after — after everything that happened. So, yeah, I need some time to myself.’

‘Are you sure there is nothing else you would like to do?’ Lily asks, concerned now. Ginny just shrugs.

‘Since I can’t fly, this seems like the best available option,’ she says. ‘And it feels good to be doing something — and there is so much to do here. The Death Eaters made a mess.’

‘That could be said for everywhere.’

‘And everyone,’ Ginny adds softly, and she returns to the cabinet she is trying to fix without saying anything further, but Lily doesn’t think she needs to. She saw Neville’s bruises, she saw Luna’s scars and she has a pretty good idea of how it was at Hogwarts under Voldemort’s regime.

But Ginny keeps her marks quietly, and Lily knows there is only one person she will be able to talk to.

The next day, James comes home earlier from Hogwarts with Harry. There is an awkward moment when Harry and Ginny meet in the kitchen and James mentions that now the main work over Hogwarts is done, Harry volunteered to help get his home back again.

‘Any problem?’ James asks genially, making both Harry and Ginny jump.

‘No,’ they say at the same time, and it doesn’t convince anyone.

Lily never noticed how big their house was until she realizes Harry and Ginny still manage to avoid each other except during mealtimes, so she decides they can get past subtlety. She and James start to ask them for help for the same rooms until they eventually are paired in the same tasks.

She doesn’t hear them talking, but it seems to work, albeit at the slowest pace ever.

‘You won’t believe who asked Sirius for an interview,’ James says one night after they settled for the day and they are having dinner before Ginny returns to her house. ‘Rita Skeeter.’

‘What scoop does she want now?’ Harry asks, rolling his eyes. ‘I am still awaiting her biography about me.’

‘What will be called?’, Ginny asks, and Harry turns to her with his eyes already shining with the joke.

‘Easy. Harry Potter, chosen or undesirable one?’

She laughs – it’s a short tentative laugh, but it’s there, and Harry smiles too. James exchanges a look with Lily, but she shakes her head warningly to him.

‘What Skeeter wanted with Sirius?’ she asks, putting the conversation back into place. It was just a shared joke. There is still a long road ahead.

‘Oh, gossip on you and me, actually, which unfortunately is something Sirius thinks it’s too funny to pass – and also he has a soft spot for Skeeter.’

Harry chokes on his drink.

‘Soft spot?’

‘Oh, please, don’t tell me –‘ Ginny raises her eyebrows, exchanging a bewildered look with Harry. ‘Sirius and Rita Skeeter?’

James chuckles.

‘No, he just likes her because of the animagus stuff. He says he can’t fault her for being one.’

‘Oh, much better,’ Ginny sighs. Then she bits her lip before looking back at Harry. ‘Can you imagine them together? Rita Skeeter as your godmother?’

‘I would have to quit Sirius from his job as godfather,’ Harry says, pretending to gag. ‘He would clearly be underqualified.’

There is another small giggle and that’s it for the night.

They are talking again at least, even if it is still not like it used to be. There are no whispered words during their time together during the day and they don’t seem to be secretly snogging. But they talk sometimes, and once or twice Lily hears a laugh when she passes the room they are in.

But it’s only two weeks later that something seems to happen.

Lily is in her room, finishing to set up the bed so she and James will finally be able to sleep there, when the voices catch her up on her window.

‘You are bleeding.’

‘It’s just a cut, Harry, no big deal.’

‘It was a splinter, there can still be something there.’

‘I told you, I took everything off. I will just press it, it will stop bleeding in a minute.’

‘I can help you, I – I know a lot of healing spells.’

There is a pause.

‘Me too, but I also know that the bleeding will stop. It’s not deep.’

‘How do you –‘

‘Same way you know, Harry.’ There is a note of tension in Ginny’s voice. ‘I had to learn.’

‘Ginny –‘

‘What? Do you think you were the only one who had a hard time?’

And she storms inside, giving him no time to answer.

Harry is subdued that night, even more reserved than natural, and when she passes his room late at night, she sees the light is on. For a second Lily wonders if she should call James, but then she sighs and knocks on his door.

‘Harry?’

In answer, the door opens quietly. Lily enters his room to see Harry fully clothed on his bed; he is holding something and, with a start, she realizes it’s the Marauder’s Map. That’s a weird thing for Harry to be consulting in the middle of the night.

‘Can’t sleep?’ she asks, sitting on the edge of his bed and running her hand through his hair comfortingly. He shrugs. ‘Anything to do with that fight with Ginny?’

He raises his eyebrows.

‘Hearing behind doors, Mum?’

‘No need, you were talking under my window.’

‘Next fight I will make sure we are far,’ he says with a grimace.

‘There will be a next fight?’

‘I don’t know,’ he admits, and this prospect doesn’t seem to make him better. ‘If I asked you something, would you be honest with me?’

‘Wasn’t I always, Harry?’

He smiles for a second before his expression is grave and uncertain.

‘Do you think I am self-centred?’

Lily blinks.

‘No one would accuse you of being selfish, Harry, I mean –’

She doesn’t know where to begin, considering all the sacrifices she had seen Harry make over the years — he gave his life —, but Harry shakes his head.

‘Not selfish, I mean – the summer after my fourth year, when Voldemort was back, I said plenty of things –’

‘You were under a lot of stress, no one –’

‘I know, but I was complaining about how everything happened to me and now I am thinking that maybe, somehow, I never stopped to think that things happen to other people too.’

Lily squeezes his hand.

‘It is not a suffering competition, Harry.’

‘I don’t know if I see it that way. I mean, when I saw Neville for the first time, with all his bruises and looking so hurt, I still wished it could be me, staying at Hogwarts and fighting because it seemed easier and it never occurred to me that she could – they could – have had a difficult time too. It still seemed… just school.’

He pauses to pick up the Marauder’s Map, opening it even if there is no map showing there.

‘I used to take the Map last year to watch over her,’ he whispers, his face flushing. ‘And I saw her dot and I never thought that she could be in trouble. I knew they were rebelling, but… it didn’t feel like it was something real.’

‘Well, that’s why you should talk to each other. None of you will understand if you keep avoiding each other.’

‘She is mad at me.’

‘Of course she is. You are avoiding her.’

He doesn’t answer.

‘You need to talk, Harry. Go there. Try it.’

He blinks, a hint of a smile on his lips.

‘Are you suggesting that I go visit my ex-girlfriend in the middle of the night?’

‘I’m pretty sure you will just talk if she doesn’t hex you first,’ Lily says brightly. Then she smiles softly. ‘You could wait until tomorrow, Harry, but I have the feeling you both have been waiting too long. And this isn’t any of your styles. You are both people of action.’

Harry grins now, standing up.

‘I will go then. Thanks for the tip, Mum.’

Lily accepts the soft kiss he gives her on the cheek.

‘Just be safe, Harry.’

_______

Harry seems to be in a better mood the next morning, despite the fact that he slept a few hours that night — Lily knows he returned by five, just as the sun was rising.

But she doesn’t say anything, just smiling to herself when Harry’s face lights up when the fireplace erupts into emerald flames and Ginny appears, dusting her clothes. They exchange a look that it’s still not there yet, but it’s soft and promising. James looks in her direction, surprised, and she promises to explain later.

It’s not Summer yet, but the days of May and then June get warmer and then Harry and Ginny are spending more time outside, though there isn’t much to fix there.

At least, not material things.

James keeps an eye on them — he wouldn’t resist not doing so —, telling her that most of the time they just seem to be taking long strolls and talking.

One day they return from their walk holding hands, and Lily has to lock James inside the room so he doesn’t say anything. Harry and Ginny are still not there.

The road home takes time.

On the second weekend of June they have the hottest day yet and they take some time off; James transfigures a pool in the backyard that neither Harry nor Ginny seems to enjoy other than to sit at the edge of the pool and take off their shoes to wet their feet. Instead of helping to ease any tension, the pool seems to create some weight over them, making them more silent than usual, so James suggests they go flying instead.

‘My Firebolt is gone,’ Harry remembers, wincing, and Lily knows it’s not the broomstick he is really missing right now. Harry lost a friend that day.

‘Mine was burnt by the Carrows last year,’ Ginny adds, her voice casual as if it’s nothing important.

They don’t end up doing anything after that.

In the afternoon, James gets a call from Sirius and Lily decides to just stay home, finishing the Wolfsbane Potions she will need to deliver to Remus by the end of the week. She is quietly lost in her favourite potion world when she hears the voices, and it’s just because they are whispering, rather than talking normally, that it draws her attention.

‘Are you sure?’ Ginny is asking, her voice unusually hesitant.

‘Only if you are,’ he whispers, sounding just as unstable.

Lily approaches the window and withdraws the curtains as little as she needs. Harry and Ginny are still by the pool, standing facing each other, and without looking away from Harry, she takes off her shirt, to reveal her bikini under it.

Harry gasps, but Lily knows that what is taking his breath away are the marks on Ginny’s torso — faint scars of cuts and small yellowed bruises that remained from the battle, over a month ago.

Ginny bits her lip, her arms trembling as if she wants to cover herself. Harry finally takes a step in her direction, looking her in the eyes now.

'Thank you for showing me,’ he whispers and then he sighs. 'My turn'.

His hands are shaking as he goes to unbutton his shirt, until Ginny raises her hands.

'May I?'

Harry nods slowly.

Ginny keeps her head high, not looking away from Harry's eyes, until she finishes opening all the buttons from his shirt and taking it off.

Then her eyes fall to his chest and Ginny freezes.

Lily knows what she is seeing, even though Lily can't see it from her angle: Harry's new lightning scar, across his chest, over his heart, where the Killing Curse hit him for the second time in his life.

'Harry,’ Ginny sighs, pain evident in her voice. She raises her hand, looking at him, questioning him silently. Harry nods once more.

Then Ginny takes a step closer to him, touching his chest, and Lily knows that she must be feeling his heart over it.

She lets the curtain fall and returns to her potion.

She is not surprised when they return home holding hands and she only tells James later (so he doesn't say anything during dinner because she knows her husband) that Ginny kissed Harry softly on the lips when she thought no one was seeing them.

[mypoisonedvine]

how about a dark bucky x naive reader where he always gets nightmares and she is always trying to help him (making him tea, laying with him til he sleeps, etc.) and one night she laying beside him and he’s having a nightmare and he traps her and says “this is the way to help me” and then there’s non/dubcon since she does want to help him 😳🥺

oh my godddd i love this!!  anon your mind.... this idea has been living in my brain rent free ever since you sent it it.

noncon, yandere-ish bucky, breeding kink, slight somnophilia and more below the cut people, watch out

he would definitely be really sweet at first, even with his brooding and aura of mystery

so it’s impossible for you to resist trying to get to know him better even as he seems to avoid you sometimes

eventually he opens up enough to tell you about his nightmares, and you feel awful about it.  he struggles to get enough sleep and sometimes he’ll try to get you to hang out late and you realize it’s because he’s afraid of trying to sleep at all.

you tell him to spend the night in your room and you guys can hang out and have a classic high school-style sleepover with junk food and movies.  you figure maybe it’ll distract him and maybe he’ll stay up so late that when he’s exhausted, he’ll be able to fall asleep easily.

it’s a lot of fun but it doesn’t seem to help much.  and it gets awkward when he makes a move on you and you do your best to gently rebuff him.   i like you a lot but i don’t like you like that-- i just want to be your friend, if i can 

it’s never an easy conversation to have but he seems to take it well, or as well as he could be reasonably expected to

your next solution was tea with melatonin.  he got to bed easier but he still had terrible nightmares and you had to wake him up because he nearly choked you out in his sleep.

finally, he asked you to sleep beside him in his bed, and you felt a little conflicted about it.

I know the last time you were around me while I slept went... really poorly... but I promise, I won’t hurt you.  I could never hurt you.

you agree only because you want to help him so badly

at first it’s normal, even sweet.  you brush your teeth together in the bathroom, you change into your comfiest pajama set and try to ignore that he’s sleeping shirtless.

you fall asleep pretty easily, and hope that he’s doing the same

but not so much later, you wake up to metal fingers pushing up the bottom of your shirt, running over your hips and waist

you mumble through the haze of half-sleep to ask him what’s going on but stop when you feel his hand slide under the fabric and wrap around your breast.

you open your mouth to speak but no words come out. you're totally paralyzed.

he slides closer and you feel his entire body pressed against your back. he's so warm, it's almost hot to the touch. hottest of all is the hard outline of his cock pressing right into your ass.

he rolls his hips against you and lets out an incredibly soft moan-- that's when you realize that he must be having some very strange dream or nightmare, that he isn't meaning to do this to you.

bucky, wake up! you're having a nightmare...I think...

I'm awake, the voice right beside your ear informs you. that or I'm having the best dream of my life.

you stammer because you have no idea what is going on. w-wait...

this is the only thing that's helped. I never told you, but the nights where I tired myself out by jerking off and imagining you, those were the ones where I slept the best. but it didn't fix it completely. I just know if you help me, the nightmares will go away.

before you can even speak again he's talking over you, sounding less sweet and more stern.

don't you wanna help me, doll? don't you wanna help me feel good? don't worry, I'll make you feel good too...

the hairs on the back of your neck are standing up because you know something is horribly wrong, but you want to give him a chance. still, you're unsure. I don't know...

you don't know? you said you were my friend. friends help each other.

you gulp and answer sheepishly, o...okay...

thanks, doll. I knew I could count on you.

he grabs your hand and pulls it down. you gasp as he wraps it around his manhood-- it's thick, and hard yet silky.

you've never touched a cock before have you?

you feel embarrassed, you realize you must be doing something wrong already if he noticed your lack of experience.  um, no... I haven’t...

oh I don't mind! it's a good thing. your hands are really soft... so much softer than mine.

you stay still and let him fuck into your hand, your face burning with shame even though you began to feel arousal tingle between your legs.

after a little more of that, he moves you around until he’s hovering over you, his hips between your legs.

I wanna try something different-- it’ll be better.

before you can stop him he’s rubbing his cock against your crotch, through your flimsy little shorts, and the sensation sends shivers up your spine.  you had touched yourself before, but this felt totally different.  

with him on top of you like this, you feel so small. his body towers over and envelops yours, but even with all that strength his little moans sounded gentle and vulnerable.

he leans down and you can feel his breath on your neck, his long hair falling down and tickling your face while his stubble scratches against your cheek

fuck, I love you, he murmurs into your ear.

what?! you try to recoil but you're trapped between him and the bed.

don't you love me too? I know you do.

you shake your head, you can’t even believe what’s happening.  I told you, we're just friends

he grabs your jaw suddenly, forcing you to look at him, and even in the dark you can see his eyes burning with anger.

I know you love me. if you don't, you will.

he starts to move his hips back and pull your pajama shorts to the side, and for all your naivete you know exactly what's about to happen.

bucky, please-- don't put it in me-- no, stop, wait--!

he shoves into you, groaning as your unwilling body is forced to accept him

hnng, you're so tight doll. can't you feel how wet you are? that's how I know you love me. god, you feel so fucking good.

you sob and try to push at his shoulders but he's like fucking granite.

don't fight it, it’s gonna feel good for you soon... you just need time to get used to me.

you can’t imagine how this could ever feel good, it stings and makes you feel nauseous-- that is, until he reaches down and swipes his calloused thumb over your sensitive bud.  

your whole body jerks and your fingers dig into his shoulders.

oh, do you like that princess?  

you want to deny it but you’re too busy bucking your hips involuntarily, chasing more sensation

fuck, you’re a needy little thing, huh?  you need me so bad... don’t worry, I’m here to take care of you.  god, you don’t know how long I’ve waited for the chance to take care of you....

suddenly the burn inside you begins to subside and you feel the tip of his cock rubbing against something that makes your walls tighten around him with every thrust. 

you hear your whimpers of pain morph into moans of pleasure, and you can hardly believe the noises are coming from you.

feels good, doesn’t it?  god, you’re such a tease... inviting me for a sleepover-- you don’t even know what that means for adults, does it?

guilt burns in your stomach as you wonder if you really did lead him on, if it means something different than you thought and that’s why he came onto you.

and before that, spending nearly every day with me and talking with me about things I’d never told anyone before... you may have fooled yourself but I knew you wanted me so damn bad.

had you??  you couldn’t remember now.  of course you’d always thought he was cute, that was objectively true, but you were just trying to be his friend...

and now you act so shocked and confused when I fuck you, but within a few minutes you’re moaning and begging for more.  

you don’t remember any begging.

his thrusts get a little rougher and you choke on nothing.

I know you want it.  I know you need it-- need me.

you can tell you’re going to come, but it doesn’t feel like how it feels when you’re by yourself.  it feels so much more intense, electric even, and you’re not sure you’ll be able to handle it.

god, i’m so close-- you’re close too, aren’t you?  you feel so good, doll.  feel so good around my cock.  fuck, you want me to come inside?

no, buck, you can’t-- i’m not--

oh it’s gonna feel so fucking good to fill you up, doll... and i know you’re gonna love how it feels when i come inside you.

you start to cry again, terrified that he’s going to get you pregnant when you’ve never even had sex before now.  please-- stop... i’ll help you again tomorrow, i’ll help you whenever you want, just please don’t come inside me...

oh doll, you’re gonna help me every night now, don’t worry about that.  gonna fuck you again before the night’s over, more likely than not.  gotta keep those nightmares away until I can only dream of you.

against everything in you hoping not to, you come suddenly.  you feel yourself tightening and fluttering around him as your whole body convulses.  

when your back arches, he slips his arms under you and holds you close, fucking into you with brutal speed and force.

fuck, right there-- fuck, doll, i’m coming, oh fuck!

with a deep growl he pushes his hips against yours as hard as he can, burying himself in your pulsating warmth.  you whimper and cry as his cock flexes with each spurt of come emptied into you.  it feels like it goes on forever, his come coating your walls while he sucks on the crook where your neck meets your shoulder.

fuck, baby... you’re incredible...

you shiver, waiting for him to pull out and roll off of you, but he just relaxes and kisses all along your collarbone.

god, I could fall asleep like this.  I sure as hell couldn’t have any nightmares with you keeping my cock warm in my sleep.

bucky... what if you got me pregnant?

oh, don’t talk like that, he purrs, you’ll get me all worked up and I’ll have to fuck you again.

he kisses you on the nose and it’s so disgustingly intimate.

I think I’ll be able to sleep again, at least for a few hours. come on, let’s move over to my side of the bed and you can be my little spoon.

[axwalker]

CREEP 3: You're just like an angel

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC  (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

Synopsis: Drake is a hurt, angry teenager. After being rejected by Lexie, he spends two years bullying her until he discovers the horrible truth behind her rejection. 

MASTERLIST HERE

In this chapter: Lexie gets to know more about the boy hiding behind the monster. 

A/N: This is Lexie’s POV. We’ll be in Drake’s head in the following chapter. 

A/N 2: Thank you to my beautiful prereader @burnsoslow​

Your suggestions made all the difference! LOVE YOUU ❤️

A/N 3: Thank you to @mskaneko​ for the edit that closes this fic. It’s gorgeous! I love youu ❤️

Words: 5,108 🙈

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love, abuse, bullying. 

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express love. 

This is a dark love story. If you think this might trigger you, PLEASE do not read it.  

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS --As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapters. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic; please do not hesitate to ask!!

LEXIE

Watching Drake put my duffel bag on the back of his motorcycle, my pulse is getting out of control on my neck. This is happening. I’m leaving home. I’m getting out, and I’m never coming back. And Drake Walker, my tormentor, is helping me. He actually defended me. The fact that I’m being helped by the person who called me a future trophy wife this morning makes this moment even more surreal. He’s had this tormented expression on his face for the last half an hour that’s stupidly making me want to hug him or make him feel better. For what, though? I don’t know. I don’t owe him anything, and still, I have this pressing need to wrap my arms around his neck and tell him everything will be okay. 

When it comes to Drake, my emotions have never been truly logical. One second I hate him, and the next, I’m whispering his name in the darkness of my room, my fingers sawing against the wet cotton of my panties. My feelings for him are incredibly confusing…but I know asking him to back off was the right move. Even if I secretly miss his presence everywhere I turn. In my unstable world, there was something comforting about knowing he would always be there. Watching me. Hating me. Wanting me. That last part was never in doubt. He’s made that clear many times. That if I wanted, he would “give me a nice long hate-fuck in the back of his trailer.” And he’d always say, “No one has to know, baby,” in that deep, hoarse tone that keeps me up at night. Makes me shove my fingers down the front of my panties and struggle to breathe, sweating through my covers to an orgasm. I’m having those particularly sexual thoughts when he looks over at me, and I don’t quite manage to hide my lust. His movements slow, a dark eyebrow arching as he fixes on my mouth, my breasts. I’m a real hot mess right now. Beaten and bloody, but there’s no denying he’s still attracted. It’s always there in the rise and fall of his chest, the clicking of his jaw. The tenting of his jeans. How many times have I turned in class and—avoiding his gaze—locked eyes with his jeans instead? At least that’s one thing us poor fuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck.

 Well, if I thought sympathy was a strange emotion regarding this boy, jealousy is even more confusing. Why should I care that he’s been with other girls? Obviously, he must have been with hundreds of girls to get good at sex. It’s none of my business, is it? I’m almost rid of him. And I don’t want to be jealous. Still, when he holds out his hand to help me onto the bike, I ignore it with a raise of my chin and climb on myself. You’re almost rid of him, Lexie. Get a ride and say goodbye. Unfortunately, I may have been a little overenthusiastic in asking to be taken to a motel. I’ve never been to one, but I know a credit card is required—and I don’t have one of those. Nor do I have enough cash in my wallet for more than one night. I need to figure out an alternative plan fast. Still looking damned tortured, Drake places his helmet on my head and gently buckles the chinstrap. Swallowing loud enough to hear over the passing cars. Helmetless, he brings the engine to life, the vibration so exhilarating; I wrap my arms around his middle on reflex.

I can feel taking a deep breath. “Lexie…” He can’t see me, so I give in to the impulse to press my cheek to his leather jacket, absorbing the warmth and his smell, earthy and so masculine. 

“Yes?” Drake clears his throat, his voice even more profound. “My dad left me a cabin a few towns over. Near Portavira lake.” He pauses. “It’s very rustic, but I’ve been fixing it, so it’s clean, and it has a bed and some supplies. I could take you there. You’d be safe.” 

It’s dangerous to start accepting more favors from him, but what choice do I have? My father made sure that I’m helpless. He did it with my mother and now me. Isolated us from everyone who might be a friend. I’ll accept his offer, but only because here and now, I promise myself I’ll find a way to help myself in the future. To leave my father and his house of horrors in the past. Maybe it can’t be done entirely alone. Maybe accepting help is the only option. That doesn’t mean I’m forgetting the way he treated me. Yes, I’m attracted to him but I also hate him. He’s made my life miserable for two years and I won’t let him --or myself, forget that. Maybe he’s hiding right now but I know Drake--as my father, has a monster underneath. His monster might not slap me or make me bleed but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. Poisonous words can hurt as much as one well-delivered blow.  

“Okay,” I say, feeling him relax. “Thanks.” I’ll accept his help for now and leave as soon as I can. 

He responds by turning on the engine of the bike again. That’s when I hear my father yelling my name from the back door of the house. His hands are tied behind his back, and he’s limping, blood coming out his nose. 

“Alexis Jade O’Brien! You get your ass back here right now, or you’ll never be allowed back! You’ll be dead to me!” 

He has to be joking; he’s been dead to me since the first time he hit me. I look back at the pathetic old man with every ounce of rebellion I have. Baring my teeth, I give him the middle finger and dismiss him. Forever. 

“Good girl,” Drake murmurs a second before driving away. I don’t look back a single time. We drive for half an hour. After twenty minutes on the highway, the trees grow denser and denser, the road deserted. We don’t pass a single car on the way to the cabin, which comforts me when I should be worried. Shouldn’t I? I can’t allow the last two years of em2otional battle to mean nothing. To melt away in the face of tonight’s act of kindness. I meant what I said. I need Drake to leave me alone. To release the hold he has on me. I’ve cut one negative force out of my life tonight. The last thing I need is a replacement. But as I grow tired against his strong back, his woody and manly scent lulling me, encouraging the trust he doesn’t deserve, I worry leaving him might be easier said than done. Especially when we arrive at the cabin, and he lifts me off the bike, cradling me to his chest like I’m made of crystal, a moment too long before settling me onto my feet. It’s hard giving up his warmth, but I push off his chest, creating distance between us. He watches me back away like I’m breaking his heart. 

“There is a shower inside,” he says quietly. “You can finally get the, uh…” He blows a breath. “…the blood off.” The sun sets as we stand there. It’s nothing like the light of the night we kissed. This time it's brighter, more intense. It must be the higher elevation. 

“You’re not hurting anywhere else?” 

“I’ll be fine.” Why is he breathing so fast? “What’s wrong, Drake?” 

“What’s wrong?” He fights through a humorless laugh, sliding his hand through his hair. “Where do I start? Most urgent is…I know you’re going to want me to leave you here alone, and I don’t think I can. Look, if you want to lock the doors, I’ll sleep outside on the ground, Lexie, but please don’t ask me to go.” 

He’s right. I was going to tell him it’s OK to go back to his trailer. There was a convenience store with a payphone a mile down the road. If there is no working phone in the cabin, I can still make calls, if necessary. I’m not sure what my next move will be, now that I’ve run away from home. But I know I’ll never be able to think with a clear head as long as Drake is around, looking at me like that. “Drake…”

 “It’s just that once I leave, I know that’s it. You’re going to shut me out again. And this time, it’ll be your choice.” He paces away, still raking his fingers through his hair. “I deserve to be cut off. Fuck, I know that. Believe me when I say I hate myself right now, but if there was something I could do to make up the last two years to you, even just a little—” 

I shake my head. Nothing can make up for the two years I spent loving him while he tortured me. There will be nothing between us. 

“I understand.” His fingers rake his hair one last time. “You can go in the cabin. I’ll sleep outside; that way, I’ll be sure your—father won’t be back.”

Despite myself and my better judgment, I worry about him. “Outside? It’s cold and dark; I can go to a motel.” At least for one night, I’ll figure out what I’ll do after tomorrow. 

“No way. Look, I won’t be able to sleep anyway. Just go inside and try to rest; I’ll be fine. I’m used to it.”

Used to what? Sleeping outside? “Isn’t there a couch or something?”

He shakes his head. “The cabin was in ruins until six months ago when I started working on it. There’s only one bed, but there’s a rug next to the fireplace. Please don’t leave. I—I need to know you’re safe.” 

I know Drake would never abuse me physically. I might be naïve, but I just know he would never do it. And as much as it’s difficult for me to understand why I feel safe with him here. Still, I have to be smart, my instincts tell me to trust him, but my instincts have been wrong about him before. 

“Does the room lock?”

“It does with a bolt that can’t be opened from outside. But you’re safe with me, Lexie. I swear.”

It’s his miserable look that makes me decide. “Okay, if it locks, I can stay here.”

We go inside, and he leads me to his room. When my bag hits the floor next to his bed, I get even more nervous. I just left everything I know behind me and have no idea what’s coming next. School will be over in a few weeks, but I can graduate earlier, thanks to my credits. I’ll need a job, save some money, get an apartment and apply for college in Cordonia. It’s overwhelming. 

I don’t want to cry in front of Drake. I don’t want to show him I feel weak, sad, and pathetic, but something inside of me suddenly breaks, and before I can’t do anything to stop it, I’m sobbing.

Drake is sitting on the bed in a second, and he’s pulling me into his lap, trying to calm me down. “Shh Lexie, it’s okay. Cry all you need to. I’m here. It’s okay,” he repeats in a litany as he rubs my shoulders, kisses my cheek, then my nose. Why do I feel so safe with him? Why, after everything he put me through, do I want to be here with him more than anywhere else? 

“Let it all out, Lex. You’re so strong, baby.” He takes a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and uses it to gently clean my tears. The piece of fabric seems so incongruous in his rough hands that I can’t help but smile a little. 

“Is this yours?”

He shrugs. “My dad collected them. After he died, my mom gave all his stuff away. This handkerchief is the only thing I have left of him. And this cabin.”

“I’m sorry, Drake. I don’t want to ruin it.”

He smiles. “Ruin it? Impossible. If anything, now it's even more special to me.” 

The softness in his eyes looks so sincere it scares the hell out of me. I can’t let myself forget who Drake really is. I stand up from his lap and put my bag on the bed. 

“I’m really tired; I’d better go to bed.” 

“Okay … can I just look at your wounds?” he asks as he inspects my face. “You have some nasty cuts,” he adds, his fist clenching. 

When I nod, he takes my hand and leads me to his bathroom. The room is as simple and modest as expected. Block walls, no tiles on the floor, no curtain on the shower, and an old toilet. A million years away from the white marble bathrooms in my house. 

He follows my gaze and blushes. “I’m sorry. This is not what you’re used to. I—uhm, I’m slowly putting it together when I have time and some money. I’m good with my hands.” I look at said hands, and there’s no doubt he’s good with them. They look big and calloused. Capable and rough but so gentle with me. I want them all around my body. As if he had listened to my silent demand, he grabs me by my waist and sits me on the counter next to the sink. My legs part on instinct, and he puts himself between them. We don’t talk for two long minutes until he opens the faucet and wets a towel. 

“I just got the water running this week; Come on.” Gently --almost reverently, he washes and cleans every cut, every injury. Softly he brushes his thumbs over my face. He doesn’t speak as he does, but there’s a tension between us. A raw feeling that has always been there. 

“Tell me about yourself,” I blurt out, desperate to break the moment. 

“There’s not much to say. Sorry, Lexie!” he exclaims when I wince. “Does this hurt?”

“A little. I. need a distraction. Why do you live alone? I know your dad is –uhm, gone, but where’s your mom?”

“Gone too.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Drake.”

“Don’t be. She was a bitch. She died in a car accident two years ago. She was living in Texas back then.”

“I don’t get it. Two years ago, you were here in Cordonia.” 

“Yeah, she left me after my dad died. Took my sister and left me here. Reminded her too much of my dad, she said.” 

I remember Jackson Walker. Everyone in Portavira does. He was Liam’s dad's bodyguard and died protecting him. But that was five years ago. If his mom left just after his passing, that means Drake has been living by himself since he’s thirteen years old. It can’t be.

Drake turns around and opens a box in the corner of the room. When he turns back, he’s holding a Band-Aid. 

“I keep these around. Construction can get nasty sometimes. Come here, Lex.” He cups my chin with one of his big hands while he cleans a cut next to my eyebrow. His touch is leaving goosebumps all over my skin. I hate to be this affected by him.  

I clear my throat to avoid the embarrassment of talking in a squeaky voice. “So, who were you living with?”

“No one. My aunt got custody when my mom left, but her husband didn’t want kids. He made her choose between him or me, so I’ve been living on my own since I’m thirteen.” My heart breaks then. Not only at the fact that he had to live by himself when he was still a child, but at the way he says it. Matter-of-factly. As if it was the most normal thing in the world that his mother, his aunt, and his uncle abandoned him. As horrible as my dad is, I’ve never had to fend for myself. And my mom loved me so much. If cancer hadn’t taken her away, she’d be here fighting for me. Drake has no one. I can’t help the tears glistening in my eyes. “Hey! Don’t cry, Lexie,” his thumb moves from my eyebrow to my cheek as he wipes the tears off my face. ”I prefer to live by myself than go to a foster house. And Leona checks on me now and then.”

“If your mom died, where’s your sister?”

He takes a deep breath but doesn’t pronounce a single word for a few minutes. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks. “Savvy was with my mom in the car. She died too.” 

I want to say something. Anything. But I can’t. Nothing seems like enough. Sorry is such an empty word—a stupid cliché. I’m horrified at my own muteness, so I do the only thing I can think of. I hug him. At first, he just stands there, his arms hanging at his sides. But soon, I can feel him giving in, his heart beating hard against my chest. He encircles his arms around me, wrapping me in the tightest hug possible. I don’t know who’s comforting whom anymore. I only know that I love being here, and I hope it’s giving him a little solace, this hug.

 It doesn’t mean I’ll forgive or even forget what he put me through, but no one deserves to go through that kind of pain alone. 

“I’ll be outside, Lexie,” he says when he finally lets me go. “If you need anything, anything at all, just call for me, okay?”

“Wait!’ I yell, so he turns around. “Are you really going to sleep on the floor?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. I just want to make sure you’re safe,” he hesitates as if he’s going to add something important. “Good night, Lexie.” 

“Wait,” I feel my cheeks redden just thinking about what I’m about to propose. “You can sleep here, I-I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Never,” he says, a determined look on his face. “I would never hurt you that way, and you have no idea how much I regret how I’ve treated you in the past. But I’ll be okay sleeping outside. I know you’ll feel better sleeping here by yourself.” 

I can’t deny that. I meant what I said about trusting him not to hurt me, but I can’t forget what he did either. “At least take this pillow and the blanket. I’ll manage with the pillow and the cover left.” He hesitates, so I insist. “Please. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”

After taking them and giving me one of the saddest smiles I’ve ever seen, he closes the door behind him and leaves me alone in the room. I lie on his bed, incapable of sleeping. The pain in his eyes when he told me about his little sister haunts me all night long. 

The following day I toss around in bed, confused and angry at myself. I can’t have feelings for Drake Walker. I can’t forget the insults or the anger in his eyes, the hurt that his words caused me every -single time. I just can’t. I hate what happened to him. I genuinely do, but iI have to think about myself. Denying that I’m attracted to him would be preposterous. Our chemistry is strong and undeniable, and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Maybe that’s it. Perhaps I just need one night with him, so I can move on with my life. Get him out of my system.

When I finally leave the bed, I find a note under my door: Went to buy some groceries, be back soon. DW

I go to the room where I assume he’s going to build the kitchen. For now, there’s only a more-than-a-few-years-old microwave and a cooler. I open the cabinets, but there’s barely anything there. 

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. I feel my heart slamming in my chest; if it’s my father, I have no means of defending myself. I’m about to escape through the back door when a woman’s voice starts yelling.

“Open up, Drake. I’m not in the mood today.” 

I open the door because the voice sounds familiar. I recognize Leona, the principal’s assistant. And I know she’s related to Drake.

Leona arches an eyebrow when she sees me. “Ms. O’Brien, what on earth are you in my nephew’s cabin? Does your father even know where you are?”

“I’m 18. I don’t have to tell my father where I am.” I answer in a much bolder tone than I feel.

She shrugs, clearly uninterested. “Well, I brought this to my nephew. Tell him I want those signed by next week. We’re not going to lose thousands of euros because of some dumb nostalgia.”

She hands me a big manila folder, I take it, but she doesn’t let go. “Maybe you’re the one who can convince him.”

“Convince him about what?”

“His father Jackson left him this piece of land, but it isn’t worth a dime without cattle or money to invest in it. But, a couple of months ago a big company approached us, they wanted to build a landfill here. Drake refuses to sell. He thinks he’s going to honor his dead father by rebuilding this old piece of crap, but he will never have the money to do it.” 

“Never.” The deep voice that comes from the entrance startles us both. “This was my dad’s dream. He wanted a ranch, and one day this place will be one,” Drake says, “I told you already, Leona. I won’t sell; I don’t care how much they’re offering you to convince me.”

“I’ve never denied that they’re offering me a commission for the sale, Drake. But I still think it’s the best move for you.” Leona leaves the papers on the table, turns and leaves the cabin. 

“You love this land?” I’m genuinely curious. 

He slowly nods. “It’s all I have left of my dad. He’s the only person that ever gave two damns about me.”

“That says more about your family than about you, Drake.”

He looks directly at me. His gaze doesn’t leave mine for a long minute. I want to get closer to him, to touch him. Not only to offer some comfort but because my body reacts to him in the wildest way. Just standing next to him in the kitchen, I feel my heart beating faster, my hands trembling harder, my sex getting wetter. The response he gets from me is maddening. And it’s making me insane. There’s no freaking way in hell; I’m going to have feelings for Drake Walker.

“I- I need to take a shower. I’ll eat later.” Without giving him any time to respond, I run to the bathroom and shut the door. I open the shower and get inside, desperate for some release, anything that’ll take my mind off him. His stupid perfect smirk and deep eyes. That voice of his, intense, soft, and deep at the same time. Those big hands, calloused and capable. Hands that I just know would know precisely how to touch me. Before I realize it, I’m coming as quietly as I can. Sadly, my relief only lasts a few minutes, my body needs him --Drake Walker, and no substitute would do. 

When I come out, he’s waiting for me with a hot cup of coffee and a couple of white chocolate-strawberry muffins---my favorite kind. 

We eat in silence, but I don’t feel the weight of it as I usually do. Ours is a companionable silence. 

After breakfast, we decide to take a hike next to the lake. A bit of exercise and the lake’s breathtaking landscape might be exactly what I need to stop thinking about my father and the confusing feelings I have for Drake. 

“I think I need a job. Do you know how I can get one?” I hate that I’m so spoiled, but I’ve never lifted a finger in my life. I have no idea how I can get a job. 

“Uhm sure. Here in Portavira?”

“Actually, I was thinking of moving to Cordonia city after graduation. “Drake stops walking for a second. “It’s too late to enroll for next semester, but I can get a job and start college next year.”

He finally starts walking again and nods slowly. “What do you want to do?” 

I blush. My dreams don’t include being famous or rich. All I want is a good, quiet life. Falling in love, having a family. Doing a job I’d enjoy and traveling as much as possible -even if it’s on a low budget. “You’ll think it’s dumb.”

Drake looks at me. “I swear I won’t, Lexie. There’s nothing you can say that I’ll find dumb. It’s just not possible.”

“I love books. They offer you new worlds. They allow you to escape and be someone else for a few pages. You can never be alone when you’re reading a book. I’d love to have a job where I would be surrounded by books. Maybe become a librarian and then open a bookstore one day.”

Drake nods but doesn’t reply. I knew he would find my dream stupid.

“I know it’s not much-“

He stands in front of me and tilts my chin until our eyes meet. “It’s amazing, Lexie. I was just thinking how great you’d be at it. Remember the top 5 assignment for Mr. Daniels?”

Of course, I do. Mr. Daniels, our English teacher, asked us to make a list of our five favorite books and recommend them to the class. 

I nod. “Yeah”

“Well, I read all the books on your list. I checked them out of the school’s library and fuck, I loved them all. Especially the one from that Krakauer guy.”

“Into the Wild?”

“Yep. I really enjoyed it. The way that guy Christopher reinvented himself spoke to me.” He holds my gaze. “You’d be an awesome librarian, Lex. You would also be an amazing writer. I remember that short story you wrote for Mr. Daniel’s class. The one about the lonely girl and how she traveled through time with her mind. You have no idea how much I loved it.”

I can’t believe he remembers that story. We had that assignment more than a year ago. “I’ve always wanted to write, but my dad thinks my stories aren’t good enough.”

“Your father is a dick. Your stories are amazing.” 

He looks at me in a way that makes my knees weak. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, so I feel it again. The connection with him. The desire. Maybe the only way this would go away is if I give in to it. 

“There is something you can do for me,” I say, surprising myself. As soon as those two words are out of my mouth, though, I know there is something I need from Drake. 

And he’s the only one who can give it to me. “Get you out of my system.” 

He stands still as a statue. “What?” 

“Get yourself out of my system.” It starts to rain, and it makes me speak louder, feel bolder and freer. “For two years, you provoked me, insulted me, stalked me, bullied me…” He makes a frantic sound, his eyes slamming shut. “And yet, I still—I still can’t stop thinking of your hands that night in my garden. How big and warm and rough they were. I can’t stop imagining you taking off my clothes. Even the ugliest things you’ve said to me, I imagine you saying them in my ear while you…while we…” 

Drake falls toward me a step, clutching the center of his chest. “Lexie—” 

“Please, get yourself out of my head. One night together. Okay, Drake? So I can get on with my life knowing fantasy was way better than reality. That I built up some unrealistic idea of what we’d be like together that we can’t possibly live up to.” My throat closes. “Get me on the road to forgetting you. Please.” As we walk, I can see the mixture of devastation and hope in his eyes. 

“And what if reality lives up to the fantasy?” 

“It won’t,” I say fast, with conviction. It couldn’t possibly live up to it. And yet I suck in a nervous breath when he crosses the divide between us, every cell in my body craving him. Fight or flight. In a matter of moments, he’s gone from wounded animal to determined predator, the rain causing his dark hair to hang low over one eye, dripping, his hands ready at his sides. 

“Are you so sure, Lexie?” 

Damn my hesitation. “Yes,” I whisper. “You’ll prove me right in one night. I can move forward without feeling like I’m leaving something behind.” 

“What if your fantasies come true tonight? Could we ever move forward as…as an us?”

 I can’t believe what he’s suggesting. “There can never be an us, Drake. Not after everything that’s happened. I’ll never change my mind about that.” I shake my head. “How can you think I would?” 

“Maybe I think if I want it hard enough, it’ll come true.” 

“It won’t,” I whisper, starting to ask myself if I’m making a mistake. Opening myself up for even more heartache and pinning for this man than I’ve already lived through. It feels like a lifetime’s worth. “One n-night.” 

“No backing out from this point on?” My heart beats urgently. 

“No backing out.” 

He’s silent so long; I’m not sure he’s going to respond. And then, all at once, he reaches me in two strides and scoops me up into his arms. I realize he’s going to bring me into the cabin, “I’ve been studying you for years, Lexie O’Brien. I’ve been hanging on to your every sigh, every expression, and mood. Years. If you don’t think I’ve obsessed weeks of my life away over how you’d like to be fucked, baby, you’re sorely mistaken.” We reach the house in a matter of minutes, and he doesn’t stop; he just keeps going until we’re in his room. And oh God, I have made a severe miscalculation. Because Drake’s showing me exactly what’s always been in my heart and mind when I thought of us together, it’s my fantasy come to life, the two of us wrapped in the arms of the other. And as he turns me, urging my legs around his waist, his ravenous mouth bearing down on mine, I realize I might never recover from this.