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gojoshooter · 5 months

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Hi bestie. I was at a party and saw this shit. Can you write a scenario/hc where gojo's crush uses his glasses as a reflective surface/mirror to put on her lipstick. Just curious how you think this would play out but this is somewhat so cute to me.

annon im snatching your brain 🏃 this is hella cute

Fifty Shades Of Friendship

an. both seem to like shades—you, on his eyes and him, on your lips

It's a chilly November night, and you're sitting by the bar counters in a little end-year party by your best friend and beloved classmate of Jujutsu High. The charming party host— no other than Gojo Satoru sits beside you on one of the stools and waves towards the under classmen messing around on the dance floor. It's not too late when his eyes land on your smudged petal pink lips, probably caused by the Martini you sipped with it's brim.

He snorts, sitting up his slacked back from the counter and pointing at your lip. “Look at that y/n, who did you make out with this time?” It's some sort of default setting of his phsycology to make remarks on his crush bestfriend, that is, you, like some damned antibody.

Raising your eyebrows, your fingertips reach for your lip by instinct. “Mm?” he rests his cheek on his knuckles, giving a soft smile “Yes your lips. Who was it, Nanami?” and he receives an eyer roll “Haibara. I knew it” “Martini, ’toru”

Then you're looking around the club, trying to find a quick reflecting surface... none. Hmm, you think, as you take out a wipe along with your rosy-coral lipstick. You're still looking around, when your eyes slide to Gojo's loud chortle watching his dorky juniors. An adorable laugh, and then, oh— there it is, makshift mirror.

Holding his cheeks by your fingers, your turn the white head and watch as a tiny tiny gasp slips out of your bosom buddy “’toru, can you look here for a second?” he binks, nodding unconsciously as his vision drops lower towards your lip that you jut out so adorably. He might just put his on yours.

Phew, if it wasn't for the club's lights, Gojo's red face would've been exposed. Dragging your bar stool, you slip closer to his shades and begin fixing your makeup. He watches your soft lips through the translucent black glasses, occasionally travelling to your puppy shaped eyes.

His cheeks almost match the colour of your lipstick by the time you're done and when your attention finally penetrates the surface of his glasses, you can almost make out his glacier eyes looking back at your softer browns... oh. Butterflies, butterflies in stomach.

Your leaning back straightens comically fast. Coming out of trance, Gojo blinks and looks away rubbing his warm neck. “Woah- woah...” oh gosh, and his pitch comes out way higher than it originally is? Did that little moment effect him someway? You tuck a strand of hair behind, wondering.

“Pretty, y/n... I like it” you smile lightly at his comment, taking your drink back from the counter. And just for the virtue of conformation, you reply softly “You like it ’toru?” a small lick on the corner of your lip, while you try to conceal your uncontrollable smile. Best friends to lovers doesn't sound like a bad trope afterall... “Would you not like to ruin it again?”

There it is—got him, not even the club lights can hide cheeks that red.

masterlist !!

ps. shy gojo >>>> also like and rbs are appreciated<333

tags. @anubisisthebomb @dianagracesworld @stellagrangerreads12 @momochina-sama @xxkay15xx @ruins-posts @4sat0ruu @therealjustpeachesback

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harlowcomehome · 1 month

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CALYPSO:

Warning: Smut.

A/N: Inspired by Bryson Tiller’s new song Calypso. I never write smut on my own page(only collaborations with other writers) so I’m nervous about this one.

Everything written is a work of fiction (AKA: not real in any way, shape or form.) Fan fiction is purely for entertainment purposes and not intended to offend/misrepresent anyone or be disrespectful in any way.

Jack scanned the room, peeking behind the curtain as he hoped to see your familiar face in the crowd. He knew you two hadn’t been on speaking terms for over a month but if he knew you, he knew you’d still show up and show him what he was missing.

“Fifty bucks says she’s not coming” Neelam whispered to Urban as they both watched Jack nervously pace around backstage.

“She’s on the guest list. She’ll be here” Urban smirked, knowing the routine like clockwork, and shaking Neelam's hand. You and Jack would be at each other's throats, fall off and then fuck out your aggressions before acting like nothing had ever happened. You were the reason he even agreed to a residency in California, he hated Pacific time zones but for you, he’d do just about anything.

Jack was anxious, as the time to take the stage was growing closer. You however were waiting in the parking lot with your friend Bria, knowing just how to play it.

“He starts here in like five minutes” Bria checked her phone for the third time. She was trying to follow your lead, but the heels she chose for the night were already killing her.

“I know, that’s why we aren’t going in there for another twenty” you giggled, knowing that your lack of time management would drive him crazy. You had a habit of pushing his buttons, knowing it would only benefit you once he took you to his hotel tonight.

“I have an extra pair of heels in my trunk” You opened the trunk of your car as she eagerly hopped out of the passenger seat.

“You have extra everything in here” Bria giggled essentially finding your second wardrobe, as she changed into your shoes.

“Have to be prepared for anything” you smirked as you applied your lip gloss a final time, the sounds of Jack's second song ringing in your eardrums. “Ready?”

As soon as you entered the club you checked your silenced notifications from Jack, he had text you three times since he had gotten to California early this morning and he hated being ignored, clicking notify anyway with no shame.

His eyes were on the entrance of the club as he performed, eagerly still searching for you. A smile he was unable to hide spread across his face once he saw you enter the room. You got butterflies as soon as you heard his voice coming through the speakers, as much as you tried to deny it you were captivated by him and absolutely in love with him.

He wanted nothing more than to jump off that stage and make his way over to you, his desperation obvious as sweat rolled down the side of his face. He was only a few songs in and promised to do a 45-minute set.

You and Bria ordered espresso martinis and made your way to the VIP lounge that Jack had set up for you both. You kept your eyes on him as you took off your blazer jacket, showing him the navy blue sequined dress you had on.

Jack sang one of his lyrics incorrectly, only you had noticed though as the club was loud and roaring the lyrics back at him. You sat down as Neelam, Urban and some of Jack's other friends joined you.

“Where’d you get that?” Neelam hugged you as you babied your martini glass, tapping your fresh acrylics against it.

“The bar! Do you want me to order you one?” You smiled as you noticed there were only champagne bottles in your section.

“I got it, I’ll order some for everyone” Neelam smiled at you and Bria as Urban sat down beside you with a smile on his face.

“What’s that about?” You hummed between sips.

“I just earned fifty bucks” Urban leaned over to talk in your ear as the music was increasingly louder.

“She never thinks I’ll show” You shook your head, before asking Urban if he wanted to try your drink.

He took the glass from you and took a sip. “To be fair, you were later than usual this time.”

“He made me madder than usual this time” You stole the drink back playfully before he finished the last gulp of it.

When Jack was finished with his set he went backstage and showered, he wanted to make you wait but was worried he’d miss you if he did. So he rushed, throwing on an extra set of clothes and making his way to the section but not before stopping and making a special song request to the DJ that was on after him.

Bria and Urban sat together as you watched him take long strides toward you, you did hate the toxicity but loved the way he wore a look of annoyance. His jaw was always tight, the crease between his eyebrows prominent as he made his emotions evident to you.

“You’re late” he spoke to you through gritted teeth, before swiftly pulling you in for a front-facing hug. His chest always felt like home to you, but you didn’t want to give in so easily, pulling back instinctively.

“Nice to see you too” You rolled your eyes, turning to the couch to grab your blazer, a power move as he held his arm out to stop you.

“Please” he begged, not too proud to. “Please, stay.” The lights in the club hit his baby blues perfectly.

You eyed him up and down as you gave in, moving closer to him. You saw the emotions in his face, knowing you had a lot to apologize for even if he wasn’t completely innocent.

“I’m sorry” you spoke loud enough for him to hear over the music.

With perfect timing, your song started playing, and a giggle escaped you. “You did this?”

He shook his head, “No, must be a divine coincidence.” You knew he wasn’t being truthful, but appreciated the soft gesture.

“I’m sorry too” he leaned into you, the smell of his cologne enticing you. You looked up to locate the cameras but Jack didn’t hesitate, his lips latched to your neck as his hands explored your backside.

“Jack, there are a lot of people here” You tried to subtly push him off of you as his friends crowded the two of you, making a human shield. “The cameras are going to spot us” you moaned into his lips as he kissed you passionately, the kisses growing sloppier by the second.

“I don’t give a fuck, let’s give them a show” he rasped knowing that’s exactly what you were looking for to let loose. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his tongue slipped inside your mouth. The music was your guide as you danced together, your bodies grinding against one another’s.

Jack turned you around, your hips grinding against his lap, as he kissed your neck. The smell of your sweet perfume mixed with sweat was pushing him to the edge.

You knew the look on his face too well, finding yourself palming his hard-on, making his breath hitch against your lips as he mumbled into them.

“Let’s go” he pleaded, his blue pupils blown and desperate.

You nodded, taking his hand and following him as he guided you backstage to grab his car keys. “Hotels about ten minutes away” he swallowed hard as he shoved his keys into his pocket but you didn’t want to waste any time, locking the door behind you.

Jack heard the door lock, turning to you for verification. You wasted no time as you unzipped and unbuttoned his pants for him.

“Baby? Here?” His breath hitched, knowing he wasn’t going to last long at all.

“I can’t wait another minute” you whispered as you hiked up your dress.

“Take it off” he licked his lips, knowing you were so eager was making it hard to control himself and the kisses you teased up his thighs weren’t helping.

“Can you say please?” You knew he was at his limits his legs trembling already.

“Now” he rasped, impatiently helping you get undressed for him, he kissed you as his fingers made their way to your thong, pulling it off easily as you loudly moaned into his kisses.

“Louder princess” he commanded, loving the sounds you made.

It was then that a knock on the door interrupted you, causing you to freeze. “Jack” you whispered in a panic, lightly pushing his shoulder.

“Didn’t I say let’s give them a show?” He smirked sliding his fingers into you and kissing you sloppily knowing how vocal you’d become.

#Jack Harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow concepts #Jack Harlow fanfic #warning: smut

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 11 months

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Would've Could've Should've | prologue

listen to: Would've Could've Should've- Taylor Swift| Happiness Is a Butterfly - Lana del Rey (playlist here)

warnings: power imbalance (teacher, student), 20+ years age gap, toxic relationships. Drinking. Implied smut. Grief. As the story progresses warnings will be added.

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!

He was already inside the bar, quite a while there before you entered it. You didn’t notice him at first, not really. You were too spent to notice him first. The dimly lit room, sparsely populated with only a few patrons scattered around didn’t allow you to get a good look at him.

He, instead, noticed you right away. There was something about you, a melancholy that he himself felt. It wasn’t per se that you’d made it obvious. No. The older he got, the more he simply knew things. Sometimes. Not all the time. Not really, right now as he nursed the whiskey in his hand, he only felt lost. He stole a glance at you, he noticed the way your face was contorting as you stared at your phone for a moment, the way you struggled not to cry for a single second. Eyes changing, a small kind smile, to Jimmy who asked you for your order.

“A Martini?”

He liked your voice. He enjoyed the way it was soft, the way you weren’t ordering anyone, he enjoyed the doubt, he relished in it. He enjoyed it when he was young and didn’t know much. It made you seem as if you hadn’t ordered it before. The corners of his lips tugged slightly before he sipped again on his whiskey, looking away momentarily.

The bartender, an old man that night, brought you your drink silently. You took it and stared at it for a moment. Your mother wouldn’t like you drinking. She wouldn’t agree. It wasn’t you. You knew she was right, it wasn’t your thing to drink on a Tuesday night. It wasn’t you to cut out all of your friends. It wasn’t like you to move to the other side of the country without telling anyone. But the more you thought, without her, who did you really have?

Looking up suddenly, you feel his gaze and turn, your eyes meet his. His eyes were a deep shade of blue. He was approximately in his late forties, early fifties if you weren’t forgiving. His hair was soft and black, with a hint of white in the corners. There was an air about him that suggested he was cold and intelligent. You weren’t sure how to react, you stared at him.

And then he smiled at you.

“First drink of the day?” his voice low and raspy as his eyes fell on the Martini.

If you were honest, it was your first drink in over a year. You hadn’t had time to drink while you were taking care of your mom. As you sat there, you realized that you hadn’t done a lot of things in your life.

“Yeah,” you breathed out with difficulty.

He stares when your hair falls in soft waves around your face. He’d seen his fair share of beautiful people but he felt drawn to you in a way he couldn’t quite decipher. A moth to a flame. You shine, sparkling like champagne in the light but then you again, you seemed like you wanted to hide.

“You?” you asked, watching him intently.

Beau shook his head. “Not my first,” he confessed. For some reason, he felt self-conscious about the way you were looking at him. He was probably too old for this. In truth, you were thinking he looked lonely too. And for a moment, since your mother, you felt seen.

“What’s your name?” you asked him, a little bit more forward than before.

“Beau,” he said.

“Very French,” you answered, smiling approvingly.

It didn’t suit him. He seemed to be the type of the men who had a stronger name at first glance but the more you stared at him, you believed you were missing something.

“You?”

He smiled approvingly as well when you told him. He repeated it, slowly, he enjoyed the way it rolled off his tongue. You relished the way he said it. His eyes crinkle as he smiled at you. A surprising softness in the way he looked at you, made your heart beat faster for a moment.

“What do you do?”

“Right now, I’m a student,” you answered, honestly.

Beau cursed himself as his gaze traveled through your whole body. You didn’t give it away. A black pair of heel boots, those jeans, an oversize cream sweater. He understood it was cold, it was December, but you were dressed more conservatively than any of his students. It was also the way you carried yourself, there was a halo about you. You were grown up or you’d been forced to grow up.

“You don’t look like a student to me,”

You raised your eyebrows as you sipped your Martini. “What do I look like to you?” you asked, giving him a sly side glance.

Beau’s heart faltered for a moment. At least, that’s what he believed. The way your face lit up, it was a work of art. You were so beautiful, it was almost unfair. It was unfair that you probably hadn’t been born by the time he’d chosen a wife, it was unfair that he hadn’t met you before, it was unfair that he met you today when he’d fought with his wife for what it seemed like the million time this week.

“I’m not sure,” he answered clearing his throat once he caught that he’d been silent for too long. “You just seemed more mature than for being a student,”

Suddenly, you felt stunned. The statement slices a painless cut in you. He wouldn’t know. He shouldn’t have known that’s what every adult told you since you were a kid. That you’ve always been responsible and mature, that you’ve always been able to relate more to adults, that you never needed someone to take care of you, that you were the one taking care of your mom. For the first time in forever, you don’t relish what he believes is a compliment.

“It must be a lot,” he said when he figured your mind had gone somewhere else.

“What?”

“To be as mature as you are,” he answered. “I understand,”

You are stunned, once again. You gaze at him as he takes the last sip of his whiskey and with a sigh, he gazed back at you. You were watching him wide-eyed, searching his features for something. He can see it, the way he just stroked a chord. You were watching him as if he’d known you your whole life.

“You want another drink?”

You pressed your lips together as you stared at the Martini for a moment, you tilted your head sideways as you weighed your options. The more responsible part of you thought that you should leave it at that. The other part, well, that other part was the one you’ve been holding back.

“Thank you,” you said with a nod.

Beau ordered both of your drinks with a certain ease. He wasn’t like the men you met before. He wasn’t like the boys your age. He didn’t seem cruel. He didn’t seem as insecure as they were. He didn’t seem too entranced by the idea of sex. He seemed like he actually cared.

“What actually brought you here, if I may ask?” he said quietly as he took another sip of the whiskey.

“I’m a student,” you answered, drinking your second Martini. “They called me because I’m the best,”

Beau smirked slightly. Nodding, he drank. He savored the way you’d said that you were the best, he enjoy confidence. For him, when he was your age, it seemed like it was the only thing he had. Sure, he was good looking and he was good with planes, but honestly what made him was his confidence. He gazed at you, those eyes looking at him through those long lashes, you felt like a dream.

“You?”

Beau sighed defeatedly. “Been living here since my twenties,” he said.

“Never left?”

“Left a lot of times,”

You nodded softly as your eyes took him in. You hadn’t noticed previously, but there, under his leather jacket, you easily could identify the beige uniform. He was Navy. By his age, he was probably an Admiral. You watch him drinking the whiskey, not aware of the way you suddenly tensed up. You could always ask him about it. You could always let him know that you were going to become a student in the next week at Top Gun, you could leave it at this. Selfishly though, you didn’t want to.

It’d been a while since you’d met someone who actually caused an impression on you.

“So, Beau,” you said softly. “Tell me about you with one rule,”

His lips tugged upward softly as he watched you, the way you were tilting your head, the way your cheeks were tinted with pink, your rosy lips, that sly smile.

“Anything you want, doll,” he teased.

He saw you pressing your lips together, trying to drown the smile you felt. He could see how your eyes shimmered at the nickname. Maybe he’d embarrassed you and he truly had, doll sounded like something from the 80s but then again, it’d made your heart flip on your chest.

“Nothing about work,” you said softly, taking a sip and peacefully waiting.

Beau’s brows furrowed for a moment. He waited, but you didn’t elaborate. A faint alarm could be heard in the back of his mind, but he ignored it.

“Done,”

The night passed along. You talked about Queen and Aerosmith. Beau told you how he was never really interested in the Royal Family, you talked about how your mother had told you about Princess Diana since you could remember. You talked about politics but both of you decided to drop the topic soon enough because it was getting to a heated conversation. You talked about ‘One-Hundred Years of Solitude’, how Beau’s father had forced him to read it while you’d stolen it from your mother. You discussed the Yellow butterflies and the way Remedios rose to the sky. He talked about his father and his mother, and how strict they were. You laughed at the stories of his youth, and when he asked you about yours, you told him that you’d been a quiet girl with not many stories to tell. He’d told you that you were still young, that you could still make stories. You wondered if he meant he could be part of them. Then, you talked about what you’re going to do for Christmas and New Year's, you end up telling him that you are going to be alone since you don’t know anyone here and your mom’s gone.

You don’t expect it to roll so easily off your tongue if you were honest. The warmth of the alcohol fills your belly in such a pleasant way, bubbles climb to your brain and so suddenly your chest doesn’t ache so badly as you tell him that she was sick and had been gone for a month. Beau, who also began to feel like he was levitating around his fifth drink, gazes back at you with a puzzled look.

When his parents passed away, although he didn’t express much. He always felt comforted by the presence of Lauren and his kids. All of them knew he was sad but he never said anything, all of them knew he needed them. He bit his inner cheek as he recalled those days, the days when he clung to Lauren and his family. It didn’t pass through his mind that he’d been looking for time to get away from them in those days.

“So, honestly, why are you here?” he then asked softly. “If you’re alone, you could’ve stayed with your friends,”

You shrugged.

“That’s not an answer,” he said more sternly. You snorted softly while sipping the last of your fifth Martini. In fifteen minutes midnight would come and now you didn’t have it in yourself to be a bit more careful with your words.

“I don’t want to tell you,” you confessed.

Beau gave you one of his amused looks.

“No?”

“No,” you answered shaking your head as you stared at him. His face was lit up with amusement as he stared at you, biting his lower lip. You took a deep breath as you weighed your options, you decided on the latter. “Because you’ll never want to fuck me,”

For a moment Beau thought he didn’t hear you correctly. And then he looked at you, you were dripping beauty, youthfulness. Your eyes for a moment, he could see, were full of lust and that confidence that he now felt so deprived of. There was something inside of him that woke up with you.

“I didn’t mean,” you began to retract as soon as he didn’t answer.

Beau shook his head, worried he might’ve offended you and suddenly he held you had.

Your breathing stopped as you watched his large hand covering yours, holding you. He was cold, goosebumps erupted on your skin as you watched him touch you, then your eyes fell on his. You could see he was trying to hold back, fighting with himself about what he should do. He exhales a sigh.

“I’m just too old for a girl like you,” he answered softly but he gets closer to you, closer than he’d ever been throughout the whole night.

Beau, who had been planning to return to his house where his wife was with his three children, was suddenly secretly waiting that you would fight him back on it. He watched you take in the answer as you bit your cheek and nodded softly, for a moment looking away but then scooting closer to him.

“Maybe you’re right,” you answered.

“What?”

You shrugged but still, he waited for an answer, mostly demanding it by the way he was looking at you.

“I believe I’m not too young for me to fuck you,” you answered with a Cheshire smile. “Maybe, you’re just too old to fuck me,”

Beau scoffed a small chuckle and for the first time his smile spread all over his face, his eyes crinkled as he watched you in awe, your face lit up in a soft laughter. “I can’t believe you just said that,” he mumbled.

“You’ve given me more alcohol than I’ve had in nine months, this is your fault,” you said shaking your head. You looked around the bar, it was almost empty now. “I’m going to go home,” you finally stated.

“Let me take you,” Beau said in a hurry as he felt you slipping away.

You looked back at him for a moment and then down at your hands, his touch lingering. For a moment, you wanted to let him take you but then you saw the gold band on his finger. Swallowing hard you stared at it for a moment. Everything had been so good until that moment, your heart aches at the thought. It wasn’t fair.

“You’ve been drinking,” you stated as you pulled your hand away, for a moment, the better part of you taking control of yourself.

“You can’t seem to hold down your liquor,” he answered as he placed some bills on the bar. Nodding towards the older guy while you put on your coat, faster than he expected you to.

Beau didn’t really know what to do with himself but when he realized, he was closer to you than ever before. So close that he could smell the vanilla and almonds scent from your hair. You tilted your head up, gazing at him for a moment.

And then just then he realized he never wanted to stop seeing you.

“If you take me home we will have sex,” you whispered.

“I don’t see anything wrong in that,” he breathed out.

You raised your eyebrows at the statement. He didn’t seem to be insincere, he was telling you the truth. But you couldn’t believe it, not even if you wanted to. So, you asked again.

“You sure you don’t?” you asked, watching him through your long lashes. Beau didn’t answer, he simply shook his head as his hand suddenly fell on your hip. You swallowed hard as you stared at him, pretending that his hand touching you didn’t light a fire inside of you.

“I don’t want you to fall in love with me,” you finally breathed out.

A last attempt to dissuade him and yourself, to pull back. But as you heard yourself you knew that it wasn’t true, what you really meant was ‘I don’t want to fall in love with you’.

“I think it’s too late for that,”

author's note: I'm so excited about this fic! Let me know your thoughts! I had a depressive episode this week lols. so it's been hard to write but I'm really proud that I've forced myself to write this!

taglist: @abaker74 @mandylove1000 @theyneedhelplol

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inversefunction · 12 days

Text

everyone's a little late on mondays

built into our muscles twitch an hour

open before alarms go off fuck but

all of this again oh well that’s the life

we tell ourselves something like fifty

times a year i keep the books open until

ten anyway so i can sit and have my coffee

not worry about morning traffic and potholes

in center lanes no i can do my crossword

take an extra ten minutes in the shower

get enough done so by day’s end i feel like

i’ve already won the week and if its nice out

i call a neighbor out and down the street

for martinis on a patio - gin, up with a lemon

-rb.xyz

#poetry #spilled ink #poem #writing #writerscreed #twcpoetry #poets on tumblr #poeticstories #poetryriot #new poets society

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cipheramnesia · 1 year

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Helen was a woman who seemed like she had life figured out. A great job, smart friends, and a perfect place in the city. Until with one missed flight... her life turned upside down!

Now this big city girl is stuck in a small town. Small problems ["I just need a martini" "I can git ya a beer"] small rooms ["Unbelievable!' she is trying to move around a bed taking up 90% of a room] but big love! [dramatic reveal of a generic looking guy] If she can make it through one night, she might be ready to marry The One.

But this perfect match isn't as good as it seems! ["Look at this... a dozen murders, all the same"] And now it's up to Helen's best friends to stop her from making a deadly decision. ["Why can't you just be happy for me!" "He's a killer, Helen!"] And every step closer to solving the crime, could be their last.

But what Helen's friends don't know is that Helen has a secret. ["This woman can look like anyone, be anywhere, and its our job to catch her." "If you see her on the floor, don't say a word, just get her out."] Now the world's greatest con artist is taking on the greatest con she ever pulled. ["You're telling me that this man is secretly the world's most prolific serial killer... and he has a vault filled with one hundred and fifty million in pure gold bars?"] With the highest stakes she's ever bet. Her life.

Coming this summer, a romantic thriller heist movie comedy: Getting Away With It All.

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cloudlessly-light · 1 year

Note

Hotch and Em are going out with the team for the first time after they found out about their relationship. And them being cutie and softie around each other like constantly touching one another, using pet names and smiling. And the team being like “wtf” because they never thought they’ll be like that.

I’m sucker for teams “wtf face”. Especially Reid’s and Derek’s☺️

A/N: Hey Anon! I initially wanted more of a "wtf" type of reactions but this is what I ended up with, I hope you still like it! Title: Inside this place is warm Summary: It's the first time the team is out after Emily and Aaron starts dating. Word Count: 2.3k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, oral, consumption of alcohol, fluff, my horrible attempt at humor

Aaron and Emily had been together only a couple of months when the rest of the team finds out. They weren’t supposed to find out as quickly as they did, but a bad timed kissed led to Penelope catching them and only a few hours later the team all knew and Aaron and Emily had a lot of awkward questions to answer.

It had been an easier transition for the team than either of them had imagined, nothing but support and mumbles of I knew it and you owe me fifty bucks being heard around the room. They clearly hadn’t been as smooth as they thought. So they stop hiding their relationship, but they never flaunt it either. It’s careful touches when they’re alone, nothing they hadn’t been doing before the team found it, but there’s a new type of comfort between them now. It’s a subtle change, something an outsider looking in would never notice. But the team notices and they’re happy for their friends.

“If I didn’t want you happy I’d be grossed out from that smile on your face.” Derek teases her as they talk on the jet back from another case.

“Shut up.” Emily tries to frown but the corners of her mouth still tug upwards as her eyes lock with Aaron’s across the plane. “Are you excited to go out tomorrow?” She decided to change the subject and ignores the eyeroll her friend sends her.

“Yes, it’ll be good to get out, we haven’t been out in a while, I need to get my groove thang on.” His eyebrows wiggle and she bursts out laughing and the ridiculous way he always describes dancing. “Besides seeing you and boss man outside of work will be fun as well, maybe we’ll get to see him without that stick up his ass.”

He should have expected the kick directed at his shin the second the words are out of his mouth.

Derek had been right though, Aaron and Emily were different outside of work, but exactly how different they were took them all by surprise. It started with Aaron kissing her cheek before going to get them drinks, in the few months they had been together the team had never seen even that simple of a gesture besides when Penelope caught them kiss. When Emily turned to look at them as he left she found Penelope and JJ grinning at her.

“What?” She asked as the two blondes looked at her with knowing grins.

“Nothing.”

They said at the same time. They didn’t want to scare Emily away from showing affection towards him and if they made a big deal out of it, chances were that they wouldn’t. They wanted their friends to be comfortable around the team when they weren’t working, even if the change was something to get used to. The brunette gives them a look of confusion but it’s gone as quick as it came as Aaron, Derek and Dave comes back with drinks.

“Martini for you, sweetheart.” Aaron smiles as he places the glass down in front of her before sitting down next to her. She leans into his side the moment he’s beside her and her hand falls to his thigh.

“Thanks honey.” She takes her drink and meets Spencer’s confused eyes. “What are you staring at Reid?”

“I was just…” The younger man starts but catches Derek violently shaking his head behind the couple and he stops speaking “Did you know that olives contain vitamin E and oleic corrosive which makes the skin tighter and people use it to keep from getting wrinkles?” He changes the subject fast, his eyes locking on the olive in her glass.

“Are you calling me old?” She deadpans and Derek shakes his head at him as Spencer visibly panics.

“No, no! I was just stating a fact…”

“Who wants to dance?” Penelope interrupts him before he can finish and Spencer breathes a sigh of relief and immediately gets up, something he never would have done in any other situation than this one.

“I do!”

“You guys go ahead.” Dave says and watches as JJ grabs Spencer and Derek and Penelope follow the pair to the dancefloor.

“You want to dance?” Aaron asks as his hand strokes the small of her back and Emily shakes her head.

“No, you’re going to need another drink in you first.” She arches her eyebrow and it makes him laugh.

Dave watches them quietly, not surprised that the couple seemed oblivious to the rest of the world the moment they were able to be Emily and Aaron. He watches the gentle smile on Aaron’s face and how Emily kept leaning into him, never moving further away from his body than she had to.

“I’m happy for you.” He tells them and clinks his glass with theirs. When Emily’s cheeks turn pink and Aaron only smiles bigger he winks at them,

An hour later Aaron finds himself holding her against him as they sway to the music. Her back is pressed against him, her ass grinding into his groin and his hands tighten around her hips. He smiles into the crook of her neck when she moans softly as his fingers press against old bruises hidden under her clothes.

“They’re freaking out.” She tells him as she turns on his arms. She wraps her arms around his neck and she feels his large hand press against her lower back to hold her close.

“Let them. They’ll get used to it.” He mumbles before leaning down to kiss her. He only means for it to be a quick thing stamped against her lips but she’s quick to deepen it, her hold only tightening on the back of his neck. When she pulls back her eyes are dazed and he sees the flush on her cheeks.

“Another drink?” She asks before he as time to say anything and he nods, his hand easily finding hers as they make their way back to the table.

“You guys want anything? I’m going to the bar.” Emily says as Aaron sits down next to Derek at the booth.

“I’ll come with you.” Dave says and they quickly make their way through the crowd.

“So,” JJ says as Derek grins beside him. “this is you outside of work? Or are you putting on a show to mess with us?”

“Sorry, this is it.” He chuckles as he relaxes into the seat, but continuously look toward the bar, his eyes automatically finding her. “What can I say, I love her.” He shrugs and while JJ smiles Derek looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “Just you wait Morgan.”

Emily squeezes in beside him not long after that and his arm comes around her shoulders. His lips find her temple as she places the drinks on the table and she quickly turns to catch his lips in a gentle kiss. Her hand finds it’s place on his leg under the table and when she looks back at her friends she finds that they are all staring at them.

“Okay so we kiss and touch when we aren’t working? What did you expect? That we kept five feet apart at all times?”

“To be honest… I kind of thought you guys had sex with the suits still on.”

“Penelope!”

They get home that same night warm from alcohol and a good night. He unlocks the door to his apartment and easily takes her coat when she’s stepped inside.

“Tonight was fun.” She said as she makes her way to the kitchen to get them a bottle of water each.

“It was.” He agrees as he follows her and pulls her into his arms. “You did not have to give them all those details about our sex life though.” He teases as her eyebrow arches.

“Oh honey, the girls would get all those details at girl’s night anyways. And Pen would have told Derek who would have told Spencer.” She smirks as his hands tighten on her waist. “Besides, can’t have them walking around thinking our sex life is anything less than fantastic.”

“I would say it’s way beyond fantastic.” He mumbles before leaning down to kiss her. He feels her sigh into the kiss, his tongue easily prying her lips apart as they start to move through the apartment.

By the time Emily falls against the edge of the bed she’s naked and panting. His rough fingers are moving over her body as she works on his belt and all she can think about is how much she wants him. She falls on her knees in front of him and tugs his pants and boxers down. With a smirks as she grabs his length, half hard and hot in her hand and she gently strokes him. When he groans she feels a rush of want through her body, his voice always her kryptonite.

“Baby.” He strokes her cheek as she takes the tip of him between her lips and his fingers move from her face and into her hair. He grips the soft strands gently but doesn’t tug or push, content with letting her set the pace as she starts to bop her head. Her tongue moves against the underside of his rapidly hardening cock as she takes him all the way down her throat. “Fuck I love your mouth.” He whispers and she moans around him, her eyes flicking up to watch the want on his face.

Emily flushes as she sees the tip of his tongue drag over his bottom lip, feels the dull ache between her legs and she squeezes her thighs together. She pulls back to lick and suck on his head, tastes the precum lingering there as her hand comes to jerk the base of him. She watches as Aaron’s head tips back and another rumble leaves him, this one deeper and lower and his fingers tighten in her hair.

He knows that if she wanted to she’d make him come right then and there, but he wanted her, needed her and after another few moments of enjoying the heat of her mouth around him he pulls her off him.

“Want you.” He mutters as an answer to her unanswered question and quickly helps her to stand. “Are you wet?” It’s a whisper between kisses as he pushes her back against the bed.

“Always for you.” She nods breathlessly and he hums appreciatively. Then his fingers are moving through her, one finger dipping inside of her before moving to rub her clit.

“You’re right, always so receptive. I’ve barely touched you baby.” He nips on her bottom lips and pulls it between his teeth making her gasp.

“I’ve wanted you all night.” There’s a slight whine in her voice that she’ll deny if he ever brought it up and he feels her legs spreading wider. He pulls back just enough angle himself against her, but not before sucking her wetness off his fingers with a growl.

When he finally pushes inside of her it’s slow, forcing her to feel every inch of him as he stretches her. He bites back his own sound of pleasure as he presses as deep inside of her as possible, Emily’s moan sounding loud through the apartment. He gives her a moment to get used to the stretch before moving back until only the tip of his cock remained inside of her, with a smirk he thrusts inside of her just as slowly.

“Aaron.” She gasps as he sets a pace that’s just slow enough to get her to the edge but never actually making her fall off it. “Harder, faster, fuck anything.” She claws at his shoulders and arms, tries to grind into him but his heavy hands pin her hip against the bed.

“Feel me baby.” He whispers as he looks between their bodies. “Watch us.”

Emily lifts her head enough to watch as his cock, shiny with her, pushes inside of her repeatedly, and she can’t tear her eyes away from it.

“Fuck that’s hot.” She whispers and he nods before catching her lips in a kiss. When he pulls back he finally starts to move faster above her. His fingers interlocks with hers as his lips trail over her neck.

“You’re clenching me so good.” He groans as she starts to tighten around him, her orgasm nearing as he keeps hitting against her spot.

Emily bites down on his shoulder as her body gives into him, she knows that it’ll bruise, loved when he had evidence of her on his body. She comes with a muffled moan, his name on her lips as she shakes through her orgasm.

Aaron isn’t far behind, his hips moving harder until he comes spurting inside of her, only prolonging her pleasure as she feel the heat of him. He jerks against her, kisses her deeply as he comes down and doesn’t stop until the need for air makes his lungs burn.

“I love you so fucking much.” She says breathlessly as he rolls to the side, but is quick to pull her with him until she’s laying on top of him.

“I love you too.” He smiles into another kiss before relaxing into the bed. His fingers trace along her spine as she gently plays with his chest hair. “Monday will be unbearable won’t it?”

“Yes. But you can just give them one of those Hotch stares and it’ll be alright.” She teases and lifts her head to smile at him.

“Didn’t work on you now did it?” He smiles back as his hand moves to squeeze one of her ass cheeks.

“Well it used to, until it turned me on.” She let out a laugh when he turned them around so he was hovering above her.

“Dirty girl.” His voice filled with adoration that made her blush even as she bit her bottom lip.

“And you know just how dirty I can be.”

#hotchniss #hotchniss smut #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotch x emily #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction

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sebstan2020 · 11 months

Text

The Sharpest Lies

Pairings: Max Burnett x Original Female Character

Summary: Violet was an expert. She could pick em, play em and win em. She was taught by the best. Conning was an art to her and she had a taste for it. But when she comes to visit her father and his new partner, she aims for the biggest mark she's ever seen.

Warnings: Underage in the past, Controlling, Dom/Sub, Light BDSM, Daddy Issues, Mentions of medical conditions, Con Artists, Daddy Kink

The bar was quiet for a Tuesday night. The classical music playing in the background was soft and set the mood. The bar was at the top of one of the finest hotels in Manhattan, with some of the finest champagnes money could buy. Of course, only the rich could afford. Nothing the average man or woman could fork out for. The sleek marble tables with gold legs and velvet covered seats only made it more obvious this wasn’t a typical bar you’d escape to in need of a drink. Only a few select few could afford to be sat in this lounge.

One of them being Violet. She sat at the bar, sipping on a martini, topped with a spiral of lemon and a stirrer. The glass was clean and sleek, resting on a small coaster that was just a bit bigger than the bottom. She knew she shouldn’t be drinking it, but she was only sipping. The barman behind gave her a glance every now and then, checking she was okay and asking if she wanted another drink, but she politely declined. She was waiting for someone to do that for her. Glancing around the bar, her eyes made quick work on spotting out her company, but they weren’t here. There was a couple sitting in the back, most likely for an anniversary of some sort or birthday. No right-minded person would come here just for a friendly drink. This place had high standards and a dress code.

Violet was donned in a sleek black dress, a slit down her leg and pointed black stilettos that wrapped around her ankles for that support she needed. Her hair was perfectly blown out with bouncy curls and smelling delicious. Her green eyes dazzled under the carefully drawn makeup she put on earlier and she wore a silver bracelet, small but delicate and pretty. Anyone even entering in with trainers would be immediately kicked out.

Violet checked her phone, placing it back down as she looked at the time, a giddiness brewing inside her. She glanced casually over her shoulder, smiling to herself as she noticed someone joining her a few chairs down. He was tall, dressed in a suit with brown hair and a scruffy beard. He looked to be in his forties, possibly fifties. Carrying a laptop and a glass of champagne, he opened it and began scrolling, typing, eyes glued to the screen. Typical businessman, coming to a high-end bar to ‘work’ as they liked to say. This was probably just an act, showing off for the ladies to come swoop in next to him and ask him what he’s doing, falling into his trap.

And Violet was about to.

She glanced over again, this time making eye contact and she smiled at him, her glossy lips sparkling under the light, her eyes slightly narrowing with her smile. The man gave a sort of smirk, grinning with a show of his teeth as he sipped his champagne, licking his lips on purpose despite there being no residue. Silence fell between them, and Violet sipped her martini, looking away to make him jealous. Another glance and he was full on staring, unable to look back to the dimmed screen in front of him, soon turning to darkness as the laptop fell to sleep.

“Hi” he called, and she looked over, smiling again.

“Hi” she replied back sweetly, flicking a piece of hair away and looking forwards. He was craving her, she could tell. The screech of his chair indicated he was coming and a pull of the one beside her had her looking straight at him as he slumped down in it. on closer inspection, he was on the larger side, his belly nearly busting through the tightness of his shirt and the sickly smell of cheap cologne and alcohol on his breath nearly made her vomit, but she kept the smile on her lips.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here all alone?” he asked, leaning one elbow onto the counter and Violet sighed, lazily turning her body, almost seducing him as he ran her heel up and down her leg, enticing him.

“Oh, you know, just waiting for someone to come buy me a drink” she teased and let out a little giggle, shaking her head.

“No, I’m kidding, I was waiting for someone but looks like they aren’t coming” she sighed, and the man frowned.

“Well, that’s no way to treat a beautiful lady, I’d never stand you up” he commented, and Violet grinned,

“Your kind, I’m sorry if I’m taking you away from your work” she fumbled over his laptop, and he shrugged.

“Nothing that can’t be done another day… now how about that drink you deserve” he smirked and called the barman over. Another martini arrived and Violet sipped it, thanking him.

“So, what do you do?” she asked intrigued, placing her head in her hand, her long slender fingers and nude nails scratching the side of her cheek, a twinkle in her eyes. The man swings back his champagne, smacking his lips together and turning full swing to her, lazily resting his elbow on the side, a fancy watch gleaming from under his jacket. Violet’s eyes immediately turn to it before snatching back to the mans.

“I work for a big tech company, I mostly do sales, I work best out in the field” he said in a slutty voice, purring which was more sickly than flirty. Violet gave a pretend giggle, the tip of her heel just dragging along his leg as she inched closer.

“So, you’re an uptown businessman, I like those” she whispered, swirling the end of her finger on her glass, her nails clinking against it and the man took a moment to breathe deeply, biting the inside of his cheek. He leaned forward, the awful smell getting closer to Violet as she held back the urge to gag, and he whispered in her ear.

“How about we take this back to my room?” he asked, giving a side eye and Violet smirked, saying nothing but gulping back her drink like an expert and followed him on. The dress flowered, reaching just below her knee where the slit ended, and her heels clicked with confidence. They arrived quickly at his hotel room, the door beeping open with but a tap of the card to which he threw inside without a care and cracked open another bottle, just what Violet wanted.

“You trying to get me drunk?” she smirked, sauntering her way into the room, scanning for what she needed. She noticed the bedroom door open and took a peek while he busied himself with the drinks. An open suitcase filled with clothes, alcohol, drugs most likely. Typical.

“Just to loosen you up a bit” he replied, handing her a flute to which Violet giggled.

“What was your name again… Mr businessman” she whispered, taking his tie in her hand, and wrapping it around.

“John… but you can call me Sir” he grinned, and Violet pulled back, teasing him with her tongue and her eyes.

“Why don’t you go freshen up… I’ll be right here” she said in a sing song tone, falling gracefully on the couch. John, as his name was smirked, placing his flute down and raced to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Violet instantly groaned, almost gagging at the thought of calling him Sir. She didn’t waste her time. Reaching into the side of her panties, she pulled the little bag of white powder out and dumped it in his glass, giving it a stir with her finger before rinsing it off. Never make the mistake of licking it off. She did it once before and she’d never do it again.

She quickly slid back into position, folding one leg over the other while she waited, trailing her glass once more with her fingertip. The door to the bedroom opened, a puff of cologne that stunk and possibly a quick cigarette as John came back out. His jacket had been discarded and his shirt was open, revealing the curly chest hair. He smiled, shuffling back over, and sat beside Violet, gulping down his champagne.

“So, you didn’t tell me your name?” he whispered.

“Cherry” she smiled. It was the most random name she could think of but was a good lead.

“Good thing I like cherries then” he smirked, his hand coming to rest on her bare knee. Violet fought the urge to slap him silly and just gave her sexy smile in response. His fingers began to creep further up, the stickiness from the cigarette leaving a residue and Violet stayed still. It wouldn’t be long now. John looked up, his pupils dilated and smile crooked as he leaned forwards, pursing his lips out for some action but he slipped, suddenly feeling dizzy.

“You are okay big boy” she whispered, and he chuckled, grabbing a hold of his head.

“Yeah, fine, just a bit dizzy” he laughed, swaying all over the place. he couldn’t keep his balance and his eyes began to droop.

“Here, lay down for a second” she murmured, practically shoving him off her so he fell on the couch, groaning. He cuddled into the couch cushions, taking a deep breath before sleep took over. He was out like a light.

Violet stood, strutting her way into the bedroom to get started. He’d be out for hours, and she’d be out in minutes, and she didn’t want to spend another second around this slimy man. He was just like everyone else. A typical married businessman on a business trip from the company, seeking out young girls to have sex with while their wives and children are none the wiser to their shady business. Looking in his suitcase, she wasn’t surprised to find cocaine in small bags, cigarettes stashed in all places and wads of bills hanging around. Violet snatched one of plastic bags, shoving the bills inside, searching every draw and cupboard for valuables. She found not much in jewellery, but the cash was the main prize. Lucky for her, John would wake to never remember any of this, never remember her. That’s the beauty of all this.

Of course, she came across his wedding ring and snorted. He deserved everything coming to him. You can’t cheat and honest man and he was certainly from honest. His wife and children wouldn’t know but Violet did. She felt a pang of guilt inside her, not for him but for them. Guilt knowing, they had to live in his lies. She hoped his wife would find out sooner or later he prayed on younger girls, hoping for a score and a touch. Tonight, he was getting nothing.

Violet finished off by tidying the room, putting things back the way there were and trotted out the bedroom. John was fast asleep, snoring with drool falling from his mouth in a disgusting puddle on the couch. Violet grimaced and finished her champagne, before throwing his in the sink and washing it out. Never leave evidence behind, not that he’ll remember but just in case.

With one final disgusted look, she took off into the hallway, the bag thrown lazily over her shoulder as she strutted her way down, a smirk appearing on her lips for her success.

Violet cracked open a bottle of wine, gulping it down as she laid on the couch, legs up with her heels abandoned at the door, music playing in the background. Again, she knew she shouldn’t be drinking but she’d rather take the consequences than stay sober. Besides, she took precaution tonight. The apartment was lonely and dark except for the dimmed warm lights above her. The money was stashed on the coffee table beside her in a huge pile, staring at her and she stared back at it. It was a good mark. Right now, she couldn’t be bothered to count it, so she’d do so in the morning. But she couldn’t get over the loneliness. The streets of Manhattan were quiet for once except for the occasional car driving past. It was crazy to think her neighbours hadn’t a clue what went on tonight. No idea there was a huge pile of money sat in front of her.

The ideas swam through her mind of what to do with it all. The bigger the mark, the greedier you become. The first few times were just a couple hundred and it was so easy to spend it, now entering the thousands, it was harder to know what to buy or do with it. She was starting to have everything. She remembers the time she brought her Tiffany bracelet like it was nothing. A couple hundred sitting on her wrist. Then when she brought her Chanel bag, a couple thousand sitting on her arm. The shoes she wore tonight were Valentinos and her perfume was Dior. If she wanted to, she could spend it all right now, but she knew not to.

As she sipped her wine, the alcohol taking its effect on her, clouding her mind and her eyes drooping, a buzz beside her woke her. she grabbed her phone, twirling around to sit on the edge of the couch.

Daddy

What time are you coming tomorrow, I can’t wait to see you x

Violet stared at the message, a smile creeping in the corners of her lips. Unlike the ones she was displaying tonight, this smile was one of genuine, heartful, sweet, a true act.

Around five x

Perfect, I love you x

I love you too x

Violet placed her phone back on the coffee table, sinking back into the couch and stared up at the ceiling. It had been a long day and a long night and now, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and rest for tomorrow.

Chapter 2

Hey so I hope you like it, let me know what you think in the comments and if you want to be tagged

@pattiemac1

@hazzapottaher

@sebastiansluts

#Max Burnett #Sharper #sharper movie #sharper fanfiction #max burnett fanfiction #max burnett smut #Sebastian Stan #sebby stan #sebastian stan fanfiction

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fluxweeed · 1 year

Text

several sentences sunday~

cheers @tackytigerfic for the tag!! your snippets are always gorgeous and delightful and it’s a little embarrassing even looking at my light-hearted silliness after reading anything of yours – the way you can make anything heartwrenching in such an effortless(-seeming) way is consistently incredible! but here’s an early bit from my “harry goes to a club under polyjuice and accidentally befriends the slytherins” drarry wip anyway

“Pansy is right,” Nott says. His dark eyes are fixed on Harry’s face. “We don’t know who he is. He could be a reporter. He could be an Auror trying to frame us for something.”

“He could be one of our parents,” Parkinson adds, and a shiver goes around the table.

“I’m not any of those things,” Harry offers—he’s not trying to frame them for anything, after all. “And I was just dragged over here without warning, actually, so I’m just going to go…”

“Don’t be silly,” Zabini says. “Millicent, dear heart, budge over, would you? There you go, sit there, here’s your drink.” He puts the trifle bowl of terror on the events leaflet that Bulstrode’s martini just vacated. “The whole point of Phoenix is that your past doesn’t matter. That’s why us lot are here, isn’t it?”

Harry, still standing, tries to look politely blank. He very carefully doesn’t let his gaze fall to anybody’s left arm.

“It is unfair though,” Malfoy says, “if he knows about us and we don’t know about him.”

“Really, I’m not gonna stick around—”

“Who says he knows anything about us?” The question comes, quite unexpectedly, from Goyle.

“If he’s over the age of twenty and has ever read a newspaper, he knows about us,” Malfoy says. He tosses his head as if he’s trying to be careless, but his voice is tight. “Or at least some of us.”

The thought Harry might be under twenty is the only one that seems to make Zabini pause. “You’re not underage, are you? I don’t give a shit if are and you’re drinking, but I’ll have to adapt my behaviour towards you considerably if so.”

“I’m not underage,” Harry says.

“What if he’s old?” Parkinson says. “Like, too old.”

“Out of interest, how old is too old?” Harry asks.

“Forty?” Parkinson says.

“Fifty,” Malfoy and Bulstrode say.

“I dunno, ninety or so?” Zabini says. “But I’m open to being convinced otherwise.”

“Blaise!” Bulstrode wrinkles her nose. She has freckles. It’s the first time Harry’s been close enough to her to notice.

Zabini is watching Harry carefully. “Maybe up to a hundred?”

“Oh my god,” Harry says. “I’m not a hundred.”

i’m so out of touch that i have no idea who has been tagged this week and who hasn’t. if u haven’t and u want to take part, please consider this a sign from the universe to do it – and pls tag me in ur post so i can see what ur up to 👀

#my fic #wip snip #drarry #drarry fic #i feel like i might get some Staff Eyes on this bc the multiple uses of 'underage' will probably trigger an alarm somewhere #hello staff if so #i'm just writing some innocent harry potter fanfiction #i mean i guess it's not innocent but #u know how it is #hope ur having a good day thank u for the website x #tag game #sdkmn

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cobra-shy · 2 years

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My mother-in-law is four feet nine. Embracing her, I feel big, bestial, slightly disloyal; my own mother, now deceased, was also small. Otherwise they are not alike, except for an opinion that I dress badly and am emotionally obscure, which they would have shared. That I ought to be taken somewhere to “shop for clothes” is a hovering threat. Tonight my mother-in-law and I are doing the dishes. It is Christmas night. We are in Ohio. Her name is Verna. She washes, I dry. The dishtowel, my last year’s Christmas gift to her, is printed with cartoon cameos of Bloomsbury celebrities. Verna is telling stories about Mildred, her best friend, who died. Mildred taught me everything I know, she says. Mildred taught me how to entertain. I am half-listening, thinking back to drying dishes for my own mother. I recall silence, distemper, and impotence on my part. I really wanted to talk to her, or hear her talk to me. All the same, I stood beside her at the sink night after night, year after year, in a blaze of shame lest she ask me an inside question or blurt out some entrail of her own. Fear of entrails governed us. We both had neurotic bowels. And a kind of continuing unfounded rage. So when I say “wanted to talk” it’s not quite true. I never wanted it at the time. I wanted it before, I wanted it after, I want it now, I never wanted it at the time. At the time was always the wrong time, and I was in a rage. Are other families like this? I know I’m setting the bar high, but I cannot imagine it was ever the wrong time to talk in, say, Bloomsbury. But then here is Virginia Woolf (from “A Sketch of the Past”):

‘We are sealed vessels aﬂoat upon what it is convenient to call reality; at some moments, without a reason, without an eﬀort, the sealing matter cracks; in ﬂoods reality. . . .’

Was it Virginia Woolf who taught us to adore these floods of reality, without which we merely navigate a sea of convenience with other people? But here it is Christmas night in Ohio and a crack is beginning to show. I stand by my mother-in-law with a soggy dishtowel in hand, pondering the holiness of conversation. She is talking about her last glimpse of Mildred. A hospital room. Mildred, laid low by one of those cancers which kill you in a weekend, can no longer eat, is sucking on a piece of ice, has a tube up her nose, and when Verna leans over the bed to ask if there’s anything she can do, Mildred shoots her a look, moves the tube aside, and says, Verna, I’d give the world right now for one of your Martinis. The next day, Mildred is dead. My dishtowel by now a saturated oblong, I fold it in three, hoping for a new dry corner. So when did Mildred pass away? I ask, and Verna says, 1965. What is a mortal being? A wind, a dream, a shadow, the ancient Greek poets tell us, but I don’t say this to Verna. I merely repeat, 1965!, in disbelief.

From the other room comes the sound of TV. It’s a Christmas special about war—they’re interviewing a soldier from some Army, I think Israeli, whose assignment is to show up at sites where a woman or a child has been killed and plant weapons on the body. I wring out my towel. Everything I want from a mother is entrail-exhausting, rage-flooded, shocked-alive, and structured like a shriek. All I have the courage to ask of her is this convenience. We wipe down the counter. We hang up towel and sponge. When I was little I understood the world to be made of paper, and that everyone should step carefully or go through the paper. I wanted a notation for that, for the going-through. I thought, I still think, this notation is stored somewhere, above us in a sort of mist or secret layer. I never realized Verna had been carrying the ghost of Mildred at the front of her mind for fifty years, like impossible antlers. The judgments we bring to bear on one another are not very sound, are they? Now Verna is scrubbing at spots on the stove with the hem of her apron. Come on, let’s watch TV, I say. I brought a movie. It’s Lubitsch—you’ll like it.

-- Anne Carson, “Trouble in Paradise”.

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