Ok, I was sitting in my uncles farm-thing, with absolutely nothing to do so I figured I'd write a Snarry. Never tried that before, but I've read them so… yea, anyway, I've been randomly popping out a lot of one-shots recently. Heh. Anyway, this is very, very, very mild. So mild, it could be another pairing… but it's meant as a Snarry. So deal with it, or use your imagination.
My Addiction
Sometimes, I sit and dream. I could do this anywhere and anytime, but I often do it in his class. 'Why?' you could ask, and I wouldn't know. I'll think about it all day, reflecting and pondering, because such a question deserves an answer, and this answer I might be able to give, because, after all, it concerns me.
I suppose you could say it's because it might bring me closer to him; he is, of course, the star of my dreams and thus, as he speaks, I might close my eyes and imagine his low, sultry voice whispering things quietly in my ear.
Naughty things, for he is no angel, and neither am I. We are both more alike than he cares to admit, and I assume this is what attracts me to him the most. We both have dark pasts, and mothers who cared for us, and people seem to have annoying expectations of the pair of us. Though I suspect these expectations differ from him to I because he is said to be of the dark, and I am allegedly known to be of the light. It is, after all, stated in a prophecy.
But what if they're wrong? What if I am of the dark? As I've previously stated, I'm no angel; no harbinger of goodness; no epitome of purity. And anyway, my thoughts, if anyone else saw them, are nowhere near pure. In fact, some would say they're outlandishly sinful, full of lust and passion, of vivid images depicting us in intimate positions, so close to each other that you could not tell where his naked, glistening body ended and mine began. So close that you could not tell where my breath ended and his began. And in those dreams, I adore our closeness because I know I'll never have him in reality, and this time, fantasy is much, much better than reality.
In some ways, he is my addiction. I could never get enough of him, his pale, almost yellow skin soft beneath my touch, his dark onyx eyes filled with a lust all for me, his breath, warm and moist against my ear… But of course, this is all in my dream, for he would scorn my pitiful attempts should he find out. He is unattainable, my secret addiction, yet I manage to cling to my dreams, my fantasies, like an addict in a room filled with heroine, but out of reach. If I may not have him in life, I at least can have his touch in my dreams, and there, he is more than willing. I could live in my dreams, lose my sanity as I fall deeper and deeper into my sexual fantasies.
Some would say that I'm deluding myself, using my dreams as an outlet to escape the 'hard life' I've had, using it as a channel to escape reality, 'but so what?' I say to that. Maybe they're right, and if they are, what is wrong with that? Why can't I cling onto and hold close that which brings me joy? It isn't as though my sanity hasn't been questioned before, mind you, and I never said I was sane. Quite the contrary, I've never attempted to dissuade the accusations, I've never mentioned anything about falsehoods and rumours, merely smiling and waving the questions off.
No, I don't do anything except sit and dream my dreams, living in my own little mind, content with the fact that he and I are the only two who exist and where things like war and disease are stories we discuss that have never been.
Some would say he's evil, and I must say, he does play the part well; dark clothes, a surely gaze – scowls often grace his features – and a foul temper are a daily occurrence with him. But I love it. I love it when he stalks through that door, robes billowing wildly behind him, sending students scurrying with one glance. You could ask me how I fell for such a man, an angry, sarcastic specimen with no patience for any. You could ask, but I could not answer, for do you really choose whom you fall in love with? For I know what I feel is love, though I barely know that emotion, itself. Maybe obsession is the right word, or the right answer. Of that I'm not sure.
Sometimes, when the weight of the world begins to suffocate me, I sit and I dream. I dream of him. I dream and I escape, for he is my drug, my gateway into another world. He is my ecstasy.
Hello people. I'm sure you're wondering why I'm suddenly popping out a lot of darker, well, at least serious..er one-shots… where's the laughter, people?! To tell you the truth, I'm not sure, but I can assure you (my regular people, friends, not all you who are new to me) that I've got a funny one-shot (well, I like to think so) coming up. So stick with me! It shant be all seriousness for long. ::grins:: Oh, and when I say a lot, I mean two. Heh, two one-shots, time span of two days… yea, a lot for me. :) And they're both so freaking short
Anyway, this is for Cozi because she writes such wonderful Snarrys and the rest of us minions should bow down in her wake. XD