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loneworldgazer · 3 years ago

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what if you were their personal helper?

a/n: im biased on all of these because basically you're special to them in a type of way

part 2

warnings: chapter 189-206 spoilers‼‼, suggestive, violence mentions

sanzu

you would be his personal cook that mikey assigned

you really worked hard at making the best dishes for sanzu (1. 50/50 chance of getting killed because you might never know with his pill popping ass and 2. you don't want to purposely mess up good ingredients)

sanzu though, really loves your dishes

he would say horrendous compliments like how he was about to have an orgasm biting into the steak minutes ago (rindou looks up at him from his laptop in disgust while ran scoffs in amusement)

ran suggested to maybe gift you something or pay a visit to whoever is cooking his meals and damn well sanzu was thrilled to hear that idea and was ready to work on it

(the haitani brothers thought the same, that you were probably going to shit your pants if bonten's number 2 suddenly appeared right beside you out of nowhere)

the very next day, his preffered time of lunch was much more later than the others so it's pretty normal for the others to not see him at the table and knowing that he's doing his own business

but this is completely different than what he usually does, he's looking for you! and there you were, in the flesh and busy preparing his meal

you look rather panicked, oh how many guesses he had. it was near his lunch time, you cooked the wrong meal, you're panicking about the slighest things or you thought you were doing it wrong

turns out you just wanted to cut the right size of tomatoes because you cut one ridiculously large chunk so you huffed and picked another tomato and nearly laughed at your stupidity

well sanzu was correct in some ways but you were just minutes away in finishing so he watched

with every second he stepped closer and the closer he got which was just right over your shoulder, you squeled because 1) creepy and 2) his breath was tickling your neck that you just had to make noise

you grabbed your wrist and your finger bled, in the state of suprise you accidently cut your thumb, luckily it was only a little so you rushed to the sink to wash it off

sanzu had a smile on his face, oh woops accidently shocked a poor person by breathing on them so the best he could do was offering a bandaid that was in his pocket

you glanced at his arm and saw the bonten tattoo inked on it so your eyes lit up in fear in why a bonten member is up infront of you

you gulped and he couldn't help but giggle to how terrified you looked and he twirled the plate that his food on it

"you're almost finished with my food, huh? quickly, you have a few seconds" you looked at him again but with genuine curiousity and suprise that said "sanzu haruchiyo? what is he doing here?"

your thoughts swirled in your head in chaos, finishing up his food and the waiter that were to take his food entered the kitchen

he froze in the doorway, recognizing the feared bonten 2 and sanzu asked him to go away by simply motioning it with his hand as well as adding in a "if you don't go, i'll kill you" by doing a slashing motion across his neck, you did not know how fast the waiter walked out of there

sanzu carried his plate towards the table your partners and you ate at and sat there, tilting his head when you stayed at the same spot

"sit here, i wanna talk" shitting your pants is a understatement, dying should be the right term

but no worries when you sat down, he smiled again with his eyes closed (though you're not sure what kind of smile was this, his rare ones? because if it is then you can make it out of here without being out in a grave)

let's just say he was interested in you and he said quite some nice words to you, this won't be the first time he'll crash into your life and have moments of talking to you after all, you're his cook right?

you're just lucky enough when he decides that you're one of the few pieces he'll cherish in his life, one he wouldn't kill but respect deeply and stick around with

kokonoi

you were his respectable assistant that deals with errands, well a more better term is a spy

you listened to conversations about bonten in the dark and sneak off to inform the others, first of all koko of course

your relationship between him was proffesional and all, reporting about what bonten enemies have said, nod and leave

but there was a time where he finally got to know you a bit better

you were a bit later than the time he asked for you to come to his office after your work, about 10 minutes atleast and he raised his eyebrow at you when you slipped into his office out of breath but quickly regain it as to not piss him off any further

"sorry sir, i got attacked" attacked you say? he got up from his seat, slowly approacing you and you sweat

overall his demeanor was cocky and all but you've never seen a scary side so supposingly it's okay for you to not feel threatened but would he really be angry at you for getting attacked?

"i don't see any bruises on you, did you really get attacked?" that sly grin showcased itself, he felt the taste of a lie coming but it didn't when you spoke up again

"i fought back sir, with this." you pulled out the staff, pressing the button to open it and twirled it over for him to see

it was the staff he gave, well actually showed off when he opened the weapons room, telling you to atleast get a weapon to defend yourself, if you can even though (he halfly joked at the end with his tongue out)

you told him that it was the gang that was still gaining these "leaks and secrets" or so to speak, are the ones rindou falsely put out in the open and the gang planned to go to one of the secret bases that bonten usually went to

besides what you say is necessary information but he circled around you in silence and decided to try to hit your head but you smack his hand away with the staff

he went for your neck but you swiftly wack the staff into his waist and he groaned, impressed

he was about to say something but sanzu interrupted by opening the door without knocking and almost bumped koko with the door

"heheh sorry, can i borrow your assistant, come come~" sanzu sung out but koko shooed him away, wanting some time to talk to you but pink crazed bastard wanted to talk to you so he shut the door on him and yelled at him to go away for a moment

after that day, more people seem to recognize and fought with you

it would pretty ironic if koko were to be the one ordering them to attack you

" i wanna see you fight more" whatever he says, you just hope it actually isn't him sending mofos to attack you because that would be a d!ck move

but he didn't, one of the bonten members revealed that a little spy is watching them from above like the idiots they were that they bumbled out their secrets for the spy to hear (guess who)

so he rewards you, after the hell you went through, you better be gifted

extra!!:

"may i measure you?" you looked back at the person in shock as they smiled warmly at you and you suspiciously glared at them, reaching slowly for your staff.

"sir kokonoi has asked to measure you." they went to stretch out the measuring tape and held it around your waist, you hesitated on holding up your shirt because of how ticklish and feathery their fingers were. this was all too sudden but you go along with it.

while you twist your shirt up, they placed a note in your back pocket and you questioned on why did they do that, you reached it while they're measuring your legs.

"i'll send someone in to measure your size for your clothing, do you also want lingerie to be part of your gift too?~" the note said and you nearly stumbled into the tailor when you tried rereading it all over again.

"what colour do you want? do you want a matching set?" "no!!"

(koko's probably pissing himself right now, trying to imagine your panicky expression, laughing like a maniac in his office)

ran

you worked as his personal maid and he admired how careful you were

you were pretty noticeable since you took your time on one thing at a time like dusting off shelves and cupboards for a long moment or scrubbing away at the dirt in the plate that stuck too long there (i mean it's reasonable but you stressed over it for a few minutes)

he approached at some times to check on you and he would smile sadistically at times when you look at him like a deer in headlights, wondering what you did wrong to make him approach you himself

he just wanted to praise and point out some of your habits which you rubbed your neck to and nodded to do better next time

it also gave him a chance to see your stretched arm and your hands, especially your knuckles more better than afar (not in a creepy way)

your knuckles were deep red and would have cuts over it and he would leave at that but it got too much for him whenever he came to you and it kept getting worse

he popped the question when you moved his flowers into a pot to sit in the sun when your hands were all bandaged up

"why has the condition of your hands worsen everytime i come to you?" so he did notice, you sighed and told him the truth while you rubbed your bandaged knuckles

"people are picking on me so hitting their faces makes my knuckles hurt and become ugly each time i return back here" he was suprised that you even used your fists and he held your hands and spoke softly

"you didn't use the baton i gave you?" you feel yourself burn, you had to pull away from him and you wanted to jog off into the sun but you akwardly shrugged instead

"i'm a lot more used to using fists to fight plus i.. might have hit my face with the baton once" his laugh was sugary sweet, the rarest you've ever heard but he was laughing at your mistake so you bit your tongue and fumed, going back to arranging his flowers (that he's probably allergic to but keeps them around cause they're pretty💀)

he patted your shoulder, casually correcting himself that it was cute that atleast you did try to use the baton that he lended to you

"i'll teach you, every evening at around 4, i'll train you to use the baton so it's less work for your fists and more for your baton." you responded that mikey had his meal around that time and you had to clean the table cloth after he eats, shyly you admit that he tends to be a little messy when eating

ran smiled, stuffing his hands into his pockets and going off after insulting you one last time

"i'm impressed that you're more careful with the table cloth than your own hands" and that ends the evening with you screaming into your hands because of how frustating, ran haitani bonten executive was

extra!!:

"now i really need you to be honest with me, how do you even fight with your fists?" "your brother teaches me how to break their limbs but i accidently graze the floor sometimes because of how tough the enemy is"

well that was pretty shocking, he looks at you with suprise in his eyes, you also looked at him suprised, you just didn't know how expressive he was and you're finding out about them because of these 4pm sessions.

"doesn't he have a maid that helps him out?" "he says i make great coffee" ran grumbled that you shouldn't even serve a fucker who drinks coffee in the first place and you couldn't help laughing. in exchange for the love of coffee, rindou might as well train you. he's not blind, he sees the bruises on your hands when you return back to the headquarters.

(and to maybe trigger ran a little since he was the one mainly teaching reader his fighting style and not ran and his lame ass baton and he just stole his maid for a few seconds, might as well train them as a reward)

"show me a better compliment and i might stop serving him" "you're good with your hands" you smirked and got up and tapped his shoulders with the baton, teasing him into giving you more compliments

"shut it now before i use my hands to shut you up" "you may at anytime" and he did, now you can imagine what he did lol

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tonesplash · 4 years ago

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its thanksgiving get nasty (18+)

pairing: edward cullen x reader

summary: you get bored at thanksgiving dinner. unfortunately for edward you wore sandals

warnings: smut,brief footjob, thanksgiving dinner, edward kind of chokes on corn, reader doesn’t like their family, mild injury, fingering, innappropriate use of vampire speed, technically exhibitionism and public sex?? bad dirty talk, and cousin-shaming, reader is afab and might be described as female im not sure

a/n: i wrote this in 24 hours so any sloppiness is not my fault

masterlist

(c/n)= cousins name

When you told him thanksgiving with your family would be boring, you’d meant it’d be for him, looking forward to his reaction to being on the receiving end of your bloodlines ridiculousness while you’d get dinner and a show. But, as it turns out, your family just so happens to get along with Edward much better than they do with you.

The seating situation is a little unconventional, since because your boyfriend-snatching cousin stole the open seat next to Edward before you even made it back from the bathroom, leaving your only viable option directly opposite of him. On the bright side, you had the option of kicking his leg when he’d said something to embarrass you.

Bless his soul, he’d done his best to bring you into the conversation but apparently, anything you had to say about your relationship had been relayed verbatim to the family group chat you weren't even in by your mother. So, after the third time you’re talked over by the aforementioned horny cousin or some other nosy relative on you’re bored out of your mind.

Everyone had gotten over your piss poor table manners years ago, or were just completely ignoring you at this point because there were no protests when they’d brought the turkey out and you’d stayed slumped low in your seat like a child in church.

Twitter had stopped refreshing ten minutes ago, and when you finally resigned yourself to tuning back into the conversation, your mother was showing Edward your baby pictures again. Idly swinging one bare foot under the table, your bare toe grazes the drape of his dress slacks under the table when you get an idea.

You’d lost a sandal earlier after Edward had pinned it under his shoe in a vain attempt to stop your pinching and dirtying of his slacks with your filthy soles. You scoot a little further forward in your seat to reach out and press your arch flat against his shin.

Edward doesn’t visibly react, just shifts his leg away, leaving yours to slip to the floor until you reach up again to plant your heel on the seat of the chair. The conversation lulls for a moment as everyone says grace, and he uses the opportunity to grab your ankle and send you a warning glare over the top of your phone.

You meet his gaze and boorishly eat a spoon of mashed potatoes, shrugging as if he couldn’t read in your mind exactly what you were about to do.

Your cousin asks about his mom car again and when you roll your eyes Edward flicks the outside of your fibula, sure to bruise, and you crinkle your nose, pinching his marble thigh between your toes as best you can through the material.

“Well my father thought it was necessary for my siblings and I to-”

While he talks, he's soothing the spot he flicked, playing in the stubble leftover from your shoddy shave job this morning, and the absent affection gives you the final motivation to further push your luck. You tease the seam of his left leg with the very tips of your toes, coaxing the unnatural heat of the venom to build in the crotch of his pants, the coolness of the rest of him making it seem even hotter in comparison.

He inhales on a forkful of corn, almost taking it down the wrong pipe, and you fight a smile around the bowl of the spoon as he flawlessly recovers and finishes the thought. You idly wonder if you could be that smooth someday. For now, you press further, pressing a toe against the seam over his cock, stroking up and down as slowly and consistently as you can while stretched under a table because who would’ve thought that footjobs are kind of an athletic feat.

Edward taps insistently at your leg, harder than he normally would, and you have to hold back a laugh at the idea of him splitting the table because he can’t take a little footsie action. You press forward again, arch encompassing his hardness through the fabric, toes curling against his pubic bone when-

“Ho-oly shit!” Searing pain shoots up from your ankle, and you double over, using everything in you not to shout, Edwards dawning mortification going unnoticed as everyone at the table turns to you at your unexpected outburst.

“(Y/n)?” Your mother doesn’t seem that happy to have dinner interrupted, and you clutch your stomach as a quick cover.

“Uh, my bad.” You snicker nervously at the sudden attention, bravado gone. Your face feels red-hot. “I actually need to use the bathroom, I think,” you lick your lips and slide out of your chair. “Lady problems.”

The table erupts in a cacophony of gags and groans as the notion of a menstrual cycle is brought up in casual conversation, and it gives you the perfect cover to retreat to the upstairs bathroom. It takes you a minute to make it up the stairs without causing a scene, and just as soon as you close and lock the door behind you and settle down to weep in peace, he’s there, jiggling the doorknob like it’s a drug bust.

“Let me in.”

You’re apparently taking too long because as soon as your injured foot touches the floor, he forces the lock and slips in, shutting the door a little too fast to pass as human.

“Jesus! Edward, are you trying to lose our deposit?” You lean around him to check for a handprint but he doesn’t respond, wordlessly setting you up on the counter, kneeling to examine your injured ankle, cool fingers soothing to the sore skin. You sit in silence, idly swinging your other leg to distract yourself.

“How'd you make it out?” You can't imagine they’d let the guest of honor go so easily.

“You forgot your bag, I told them I’d just bringing it up to you.” He places your bag next to you as evidence. “Maybe you should start carrying menstrual products for when you actually need them.”

Of course, he breaks your foot and wants to lecture you on responsible uterus care. Edward sighs, taking your foot with the gentlest touch and whispering a kiss into the skin. “It’s only a sprain, but I’m still sorry.”

“S’Okay.” Your face burns, not expecting his guilt. “Serves me right, huh?” You titter, poking his side with your uninjured foot. He swipes it up before you can start again, halfheartedly laughing with you.

“Let me wrap it before you get any more ideas.” You hand him the compression wrap from the medicine cabinet, and he gets to work. The wince you give at the pressure is more reflex than anything, but the anxious expression on his face tells you he wasn't going to let this go easily.

“Y’know…” You poke at him again. The playful contempt in his golden eyes gives you the go-ahead to make your case. “If you’re really feeling torn up about it, seeing you wow my family like that got me a little riled up.”

“Really.” Edward kisses the secured wrapping and releases you, standing to frame you against the counter.

“I’m serious, impressing them isn’t easy, (C/n) is probably shaving in the guest room to steal you from me right now, just thinking about it has got me a little hot under the collar.” You run your hands over his back and through his hair, nuzzling into the crook of his throat.

“You’re laying it on pretty thick, don’t you think?” His hands smooth over your exposed thighs sending a shiver up your spine. You think you've got him, but he's such a tease sometimes you can never really be sure.

“Depends. Is it working?” You still, bracing for some line about ‘responsibility’ and ‘your family waiting for you.’

But then his hands are under your skirt, hooking into the sides of your underwear and pulling them down your thighs, leaving them to free-fall to your feet. You clutch his auburn hair in your fingers at the shock of open-air against your cunt.

“Do you think I could let you go back to that table smelling like this?” His sweet breath washes against your ear as he huffs a soft laugh. “I’d rather not go downstairs and pretend to care about football when I know you’re here, hot and ready for me.”

You can’t resist him any longer, pulling him close and kissing him with the desperation of a woman who needs to be back downstairs before dessert. His thumb teases over your cunt at first, swirling over your swelling clit and teasing your hole before he finds a focus, using the thumb of his free hand to hold your hood back as his slicked fingers grind the bud into a frenzy while he sucks your tongue into his mouth.

It’s all you can do to hold your breath while he touches you, cool fingers building a knot in your belly, smooth and steady as they batter you up into a frenzy. He adjusts his hand, his ring finger pressing into you and bringing a low ache from rushed preparation, but you welcome it, thighs shaking with the effort to stay open for him as your mouth falls open in a shaky gasp. Edward breaks the kiss to let you breathe , seemingly unbothered until-

“(C/n) is coming.”

“Wha-” A particularly deep stroke has you biting your lip as you struggle to concentrate. “What the fuck does she want?”

“She’s going to ask you where I am.” His expression doesn’t match his words, still completely concentrated on ruining you despite the obvious issue.

“And what am I supposed to tell her?!” You hiss back right as she reaches the door. His mouth closes over your pulse point and you don't think you've clenched that hard before in your life.

“Hey (Y/n)? Have you seen Edward?” Her voice is enough of a mood killer that you have to shove your face into his throat to ground yourself in the moment. He adds a second finger, gaining speed, and you pray and hope to any god listening to this that she can't hear the squelches through the door.

“N-no.” You rack your mind for an excuse. His scent is making it harder to concentrate. “I think he went out for a smoke?” Nice one.

“Really? I didn't smell anything on him...” If all your blood flow hadn't been centralized below the waist at this point you'd’ve asked how the hell she knows what he smells like. He's fully abandoned your clit now, leaving it to pulse in the open air while three of his fingers push and pull at your pelvic floor.

“That's cause he unh-” You slap a hand over your mouth to stop the moan before it can be recognized for what it is.“-he vapes!” Edward pulls back from your throat to look at you incredulously, but it's a little hard to be ashamed when he's nearly wrist deep inside you.

“Oh… Well, let him know if you see him that they’re playing charades and I need a partner. You know how it is.”

You forget to reply, too enthralled watching him spit onto his unoccupied fingers and mash the coolness against your clit, causing you to nearly spasm off the counter, losing the sensation as he silently laughs at having to hold you steady. She seemed to have taken your silence as an admission, as you can hear the door at the stoop of the stairs swinging shut after her. Thank God.

“Rub your spot, Sweet, come on, we have to be quick.” He kisses your temple and laughs a bit maniacally at the little whimper that escapes when you bring a hand down to your clit. “Surprisingly, she’s having trouble picturing me in a vape shop.”

You whine around a bitten lip, too far gone to listen to his ribbing. You’re building up to overstimulation with the sloppy way you’re rubbing yourself, and he must feel it too, because in the next second, his fingers are vibrating.

“Come on, (Y/n), don't you want to finish up here and mop the floor with them?” You hadn’t even realized how hazy your vision had gotten until he grabs your chin and levels your lidded eyes with his and says your name again. You nod sluggishly for him, not hearing a word. He laughs again, smiles wide. His teeth are pretty.

“If you cum right now;” The buzzing grows stronger, your free arm spasming under you as you support yourself. “I’ll rub you raw after on the ride home. You just need to come right now and win charades with me.”

The buzzing inside grows too strong, and your vision goes white, pulsing in long pulls around his fingers as hot waves of sensation spread from your head to your toes.

Edward kisses you, soft and slow, swallowing any whimpers tempted to escape as you come down, abandoning the counter to clutch his sleeve as the twitching reduces to a tremor.

“Oh my god.“ You laugh, planting your face into his collar as you catch your breath. “I can't believe you used charades to make me come, I'm never gonna forgive you.”

“I heard the top prize is a ten dollar gift card to…” He squints and checks again. “The Google Play Store.”

“Ew, what could you even do with tha-”

“(Y/N) come help with plates!” Your mother shouts up the stairwell, totally fucking up any release you just had.

“I guess I should run down to the corner store;” Edward smiles, helping you to stand on wobbly legs and smoothing your skirt down. “Don't want to blow your cover.”

“(Y/N)! Plates!”

“Oh my god;” Your eyes may never return from the back of your skull. “Meet you downstairs?”

He kisses you sweetly one last time, pulling you close and wiping the sheen of sweat off of your face.

“Downstairs.”

With that, he heaves himself out of the narrow sill, and you busy yourself cleaning up as fast as you can.

You just catch him hopping off the roof, and coming around to the front yard. He'll hear you no matter the volume, but you still shout the warning;

“Stay away from my cousin!”

#edward cullen x reader #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen #Twilight FanFic #twilight smut #twilight imagines #twilight x reader #twilight x you #the twilight saga #reader insert smut #reader insert fluff #reader #thanksgiving #dinner with parents

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rreeaahh · 4 years ago

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Arms Tonite | draco malfoy

Arms Tonite - for @vogueweasley ‘s writing challenge (inspired by the song)

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader (ravenclaw)

words count: 10k - lyrics in italic

summary; your relationship with draco went from strangers, to lovers, to strangers again - but it broke the barrier between life and death.

warnings: the word “mudblood”; swearing; death eaters; voldemort; death of a character; some fluff; angst; kinda sad; slow burn; blood mention; (that’s all i could think of, please let me know if there are more!)

a/n: im so so so sorry if thats too long, my loves! i got carried away by this idea - i had it in my mind for so so long i used @vogueweasley 's writing challenge as motivation. again, congratulations mere! You're one of the first writers ive followed here, and I'm happy to see your blog growing❤️

“Can I sit there?” you asked softly, embracing the pile of books to your chest. They were all for your Potions’ essay, where you really wanted to excel, only to prove Professor Snape what you were capable of.

Since the first year, Snape turned out to be a walking nightmare for all the students in the entire castle, especially for the ones who hadn’t a green tie around their neck. Being a Ravenclaw, the desire to know more was a normal thing for you: always asking questions and making assumptions only to gain more information made Snape grow a feeling of hatred towards you. He’d externalize that hate by giving you extra work, asking you questions you had no idea to answer, criticizing your skills in front of the class – basically, everything he could do to embarrass yourself and to show your classmates that you weren’t as smart as you wanted to introduce yourself.

“What?” the boy asked in confusion, his fingers squeezing the silver quill he was using to take notes from a booked that seemed to be about Transfiguration – a subject where you were at the top of the class, as Professor McGonagall told you proudly.

“I asked if I could stay here,” you repeated in a quiet voice, not wanting to disturb the rest of the people who were struggling with their work. “All the tables are taken and that’s my spot, usually,” you added when he frowned his brows, scanning the room.

“Yeah, whatever,” he said careless, going back to his piece of parchment. “That’s my spot usually, too, but I haven’t seen you here,” he whispered as you sat down, in front of him.

“I don’t think we share classes, so I think we don’t go to the library at the same time. But maybe it could be our spot from now on.” Your explanation made the blonde boy look away, his cheeks running paler while the skin of his neck, revealed by the crack of his unbottoned shirt, seemed to burn.

The silence fell on you two, the room being filled only with whispers and quills running their ink on the papers. You really had to impress Snape with that essay, you had enough of his comments and ugly looks – he was a great teacher, a very skilled person, but he had a horrible way to be human – that if he could be considered a human being. Deep down you feared Snape – his cold eyes, his fluttering cloak and his loud steps: all of that gave you goosebumps all over your body. Thinking of those you felt your breath tangling up in your throat, and the letters started to dance in front of your eyes. At first, you looked around the room, searching for the Weasley twins, but it wasn’t a prank: it was the stress which took control over your mind, playing tricks and messing with you. Your throat was dry, and every time you tried to swallow your saliva it felt like you had sand in your mouth. Your tablemate seemed to notice your discomfort, because he looked at you under his eyelashes, his right brow raising in confusion or annoyance.

“What are you doing?” he asked, now looking at you without any reservation.

“Hm?” you buzzed, making eye contact with him. You couldn’t figure out if he was surprised by your daring glare, or intimidated or amused – he only kept on looking into your eyes, not revealing any true emotion.

“You keep on swallowing and it looks like you’re drowning or something.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled politely, which made him go back to his work. But when you kept on acting like you couldn’t breathe, he dropped his quill on the table and look like you with frustration. “What?”

“You’re distracting me, obviously,” he rolled his eyes. “Some of us are trying to focus, so keep quiet or leave.”

It was very rude of him – in your opinion – to talk to you, a complete stranger, like he could give you orders; especially when you did nothing wrong.

“Me too,” you sighed, “It’s only that…” But you stopped in the middle of the sentence, reminding that you didn’t know who you were talking to, and he probably didn’t care.

“Only what?” he asked, making you look at him again. His face was blank – relaxed, like he was an emotionless metal can.

“I’m not that good with Potions, so I’m struggling a little bit,” you smiled with shame, not knowing exactly why you felt that way admitting you weren’t good at something.

“We all are struggling,” he said like it wasn’t a big deal, pointing to his Transfiguration book. “Some of us on simple things, I see,” he commented after he took a sight at the books you chose and the big title you wrote on the parchment.

“Then maybe we could help each other,” you proposed, smiling at him in a friendly nature. He didn’t seem to understand your idea, given the frowned brows and half eyes that were starring at you. “I’m good at Transfiguration, the best if we’re to follow McGonagall’s words, so I could help you if you help me with my Potions essay.”

He took a moment to think, looking back and forward to your books and his, to your parchments and his – yours were filled with paragraphs and his were decorated with meaningless drawings. “I only need some notes, it’s not fair to do your whole essay in exchange of some stupid phrases,” he said like you were trying to fool him.

You chuckled and leaned back on your chair. “Yeah, nothing’s free,” you smiled, “Ok, then I’ll write your notes and you’ll write me the main ideas – after that I’ll write it on my own.” He stayed thoughtful and quiet, looking at your face; you tried hard not to run your fingers to your cheek, searching for dirt or anything that had him starring. “Deal?” you asked.

He held out his hand in your direction. “Deal,” was his only response, waiting for you to conclude the pact. And you did – you gently shook his hand, the skin of his palm feeling smooth against your own, like he was using lots of lotion every night before going to bed. But it was a nice feeling, which led a wave of warmth all over your body along with a good premonition about how he’d do your homework and him, in general.

The two of you switched your belongings, the only item that wasn’t switch being the quills – he was holding his like it was the biggest treasure he ever had; and maybe it was, you thought. Maybe it had an emotional story and he wanted to keep the quill only because of the memories it hold, but maybe he was only careful with what belonged to him. You never really had anyone to help you with your work – when you were a child your parents encouraged you to keep on trying by yourself in order to succeed, and you grew up avoiding other’s help, only to prove them that you could do it alone. After a while, in your third year of Hogwarts, you wanted to be helped, but it seemed like your older housemates were too busy and the ones your age were looking for you to help them. So, to be in the library on a Friday afternoon, helped by a boy you never crossed paths with before seemed like a new – and somehow exciting – experience. It was nice to write on the parchments which had their edges and corners filled with something that seemed to be flowers or some kind of plant with curled leaves. You often asked him questions about what you should or shouldn’t write, and depending on his answer you’d write down more explicit notes, as he kept on commenting how many useless things you’ve wrote in your essay by far – but he was funny, telling you that you should give Snape the essay the way it is so maybe you all could be lucky and get rid of the sulky teacher sooner than expected.

After some time, they boy looked at the silver watch on his left wrist and put down the quill. “My study time’s over,” he announced and you also put down the writing instrument, handing him the papers you tried to write as eligible as you could. “That’s all?” he asked and scoffed.

“Actually, I have more things to add, but…” You tried to say, but he already began to gather his things, closing the Transfiguration book and folding the parchments. “We could meet tomorrow, or Sunday,” you proposed and also got up when he did. You tried to make eye contact with him one more time, not paying that much attention to the height difference between you two.

“Again?” he spoke, fulfilling your wish. His eyes were mesmerizing – such a light blue, reminding you of a sunny sky.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want – it would be beneficial for both of us to finish what we started.”

And he thought that way too, because the next day he was already in the same spot of the library, all by himself, trying to decipher the entangled letter you wrote the other day. “Maybe Snape doesn’t like you because of your handwriting,” he said when you sat down, making you smile and chuckle – an action that caused him to have a little smile in the corner of his lips, too. And those smiles continued to grow on your faces, because besides the theoretical information you two changed, there were also a little funny comment slipped through the conversation.

“See you tomorrow?” you asked while gathering your things, because that time you were the one who needed to leave earlier.

“I can’t,” he simply said. “I have to study.”

“Isn’t that the reason we met here today?” you laughed, “To study together?”

“No, we met today to finish our deal – which is pretty much done,” he explained in a plain voice, pointing to the pages in your hand. The structure of the essay was done; you only needed to put it all together and his Transfiguration notes were enough for him to understand better the subject.

“Oh,” you said in a whisper. “Yeah, right, thank you…” you smiled to him, whishing that he’d realize that you two never introduced each other properly, but he only returned the smile in a polite way.

“You’re welcome,” was all he said and went back to his book, trying to put head to head the theory you made and the information from the book.

That Saturday you left the library with a strange feeling of loneliness – he was a stranger, but he helped you concentrate and also helped you with something that – maybe – was the most important opportunity for you to shut Snape’s mouth. That day flew by without you even realizing, but at night you found yourself thinking about the boy who tapped his fingers on the wooden surface anytime he’d search for the right words but couldn’t stand a strange breathing near him, and a pair of iced eyes was present in your dreams, doing nothing more than watching you with all the possible emotions mirroring in them.

“How was your weekend by far, Hermione?” you asked the girl only to break the strange silence between you two. She was looking for a specific book, and it happened to bump into her when you came to the library to continue your work.

It was a few hours after lunch, on a sunny Sunday when most of the students preferred to study or to simply hang out in the courtyards, lying on the grass. It wasn’t very weird that you had to deal with all those stares when you went to the library on such a beautiful day. You weren’t a bookworm or a nerd, but it was a special thing and you really wanted to have it all done by the end of Monday at least, so you wouldn’t be loaded with other things.

“It was… acceptable,” she responded and shrugged, going back to look for that book on the selves. “As acceptable as it could be a weekend spend in the company of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley,” she continued and you laughed. She was the brain of that trio, and it might be stressful to be their friend – but you were pretty sure it wasn’t that horrible since she stayed by their side for so long. “What about you?” she returned the question, giving up on her searching as she couldn’t find the right book.

Hermione followed you to your usual table, situated in a corner of the room, where the rays of sun came through the wide window and lighted all the pages. You sat down, leaving aside the parchments for some moments of chatting with your friend. “It was… fun,” you smiled, “I was here two days in a row doing homework.”

Hermione laughed while flipping the pages gently. “And Ronald says I’m the one who needs to sort out her priorities.”

“No,” you rolled your eyes, “It was fun because I had a study buddy. It was really nice,” the explanation made the girl leave her book and watch you with sudden interest. You knew Hermione wasn’t the type who gossip, so her attention was pure curiosity.

“Who?”

“I don’t really know,” you sighed, a little disappointment in your voice as you looked at your fingers, which were unconsciously tapping on the table. “We never made a proper introduction.”

The Gryffindor girl played with the zipper of her hoodie, looking like he was trying to remember all the persons who ever entered that room. “How was he looking?”

Handsome was the first word you wanted to say, as a joke, but a discarded book landed on your table, right on top of your papers and made you looks at the person whose shadow was covering your face.

“What is she doing at our spot?”

“Malfoy,” Hermione growled with hatred, “I don’t think your father bought the tables in the entire library, too,” she said and made the boy look at her with as much venom as a snake could carry.

So he was Malfoy – the mean boy Hermione would mention from time to time, the one who’d always have a harsh word to tell Ron and the one who despised The Chosen One so much. Your timetable never interfered with their, and you’d usually spend your weekends and breaks with some classmates you were friends with, so you never really crossed path with that Malfoy boy. You knew about him, but you didn’t know him – not until then.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Mudblood; learn to speak only when spoken to,” he said in a mockery tone, his eyes going back to you.

You looked at him, and then at Hermione, who seemed to search in you something you couldn’t actually find. “Well?” he repeated, but there was no response from you.

“What does he mean, Y/N? Your spot?” she asked, her voice cracking at the end.

“He’s… my study buddy,” you spoke and Malfoy raised his brow at the appellative, while Hermione froze.

“I’ll leave you with your study buddy, then,” she whispered to you and left, not before taking the book that was thrown on the table by the Slytherin boy.

Your hand was shaking when you grabbed the quill, going back to finish the essay that you started to properly write last night in your dormitory. “Yeah, take my scrap, you filthy Mudblood,” he commented and watched Hermione leave. He then sat down, in front of you, slightly pushing away from him the chair were your friend sat some seconds ago. “Don’t tell me she’s following you around like a little puppy,” he laughed and you looked at him in confusion.

“She’s my friend,” you simply said.

The confusion was now on Malfoy’s face. “Friend?” he scoffed.

“Don’t you have friends?”

“Plenty,” he responded quickly. “But my friends have my back when I’m in an argument.”

You shrugged and looked down again to your essay. “I’m a neutral person, I’m not picking sides,” you explained. He watched you write without any other interruption, but you were feeling weird to be aware of his presence in your perimeter and being as talkative as a fish. “What are you doing here?” you asked as you wrote your name at the bottom of the last paper. He quickly grabbed them all, smiling at your expression.

“I made some free time to come and read our final product.” He went back to be silent, his blue eyes running from left to right in order to read all the things you wrote more calligraphic, only thinking about his comment and about the nice letters he used to make the summary yesterday. “It’s good,” he said proudly, like it was his own.

“Really?” you asked shyly, not ready to have a criticism on that yet.

“Yes, I see you kept some of my phraseology,” he smiled in a kind way, returning the parchments to you.

“It was really well structured,” you laughed and ran a hand through your hair, blushing when you saw him starring intensely at your face – you really wanted to ask him if there was something on your face.

“It’s perfect, Y/N,” he repeated, “Snape can’t say otherwise. It’s nearly as good as mine are,” he assured you. His response made you laugh loudly, gaining some hissing from Madam Pince; your hands went to your mouth, covering it, and the boy looked at you with amusement.

“Thank you, Malfoy,” you whispered, scared to talk even in a quiet way. You knew how much the librarian hated the loud students, and you really didn’t want to be one of them. To be on her blacklist was something no one really wanted.

“Call me Draco,” he asked and got up. “I have to go, but I’m sure your work will be appreciated tomorrow.”

“It’s for Friday, actually.”

“So you had a week to do it, but you did it right away?” he laughed this time, but he seemed careless at Madam’s Pince hiss.

“What?” you pouted, already annoyed by his laugh. You knew what he was going to say, and it made you somehow ashamed.

“Nothing,” he said to your surprise, “It’s just that… I’ve never seen somebody to be that ambitious when it comes about school.”

“So you don’t make fun of me,” you thought out loud, making him chuckle again.

“Why would I make fun of you for being a determined person?” he asked and you returned his smile, more shyly, and waved him goodbye as you saw him walking away.

It was the last moment when you saw Draco Malfoy – Monday morning you looked for him in the Great Hall at breakfast, lunch, dinner and even after classes – but due to the large amount of students, he was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t put a foot in the library, because you stayed there awhile, doing your homework or reading – more like pretending to do any of those – but he never came. It was like he was swallowed by a big black hole and forgotten by all the people in Hogwarts. Nobody near you mentioned his name, and you didn’t dare to ask Hermione about him after the ‘study buddy’ situation. She said it was all fine between you two, because she knew about your neutral personality. It was simple: you never got into fights yourself or got involved when other people would argue – it was simple that way. You asked her if she was alright after Draco said all those things to her, of course, but when she told you it was alright you didn’t insisted more.

Friday came faster than you had thought and you were quite nervous to hand Snape your essay. All your classmates wished you good luck, even if they were in the exact same situation as you were – not quite the same, actually, because you were the only one asked to stay over class so the Potions Master could have a word with you.

“You wanted to talk to me, Professor?” you asked when the rest of the students left you all alone with Snape, who sat in the front of the class, hands crossed over his chest and a frowned look on his face.

“Obvious,” he spoke in his monotone voice, coming closer to your desk. “What is this, Miss L/N?” he asked, throwing in front of you the essay, all the pages spreading on the table.

“My essay, Sir,” you told him confident, already preparing your speech about how hard you worked on it and how he couldn’t say it was a piece of trash.

“Your essay?” he asked serious, and then he faked a laugh. “I think you mean Mister’s Malfoy essay,” he then handed you another parchment, with Draco’s name on it, neatly written.

You read a few phrases from his work, but there was nothing alike between them aside some expressions – the ones Draco observed you kept from his notes. “I didn’t steal his work, Sir,” you said in a quiet voice, not daring to look him in the eyes. You didn’t need to do that to know how mad he was.

“You didn’t steal it, you copied it.”

“No, I…” but he already made up his mind. He asked you to leave, informing you that you’d get more work to do, along with a week of detention.

Your blood was boiling and you only wanted to scream how much you hated everything: how much you hated Snape, for being a prick, how much you hated yourself, for not being able to do your own homework alone and how much you hated Draco, for ‘helping’ you and then disappearing – but he didn’t disappear, because he was in the end of the corridor, all by himself, his hands on his trousers’ pockets, standing in an elegant posture leaning on the wall. The dark always present on the Dungeons made him look paler that he seemed in the library’s sunrays, but the blue of his eyes was still remembering you of the clear sky in the moment he heard your steps.

“Y/N,” he greeted you from afar, a little smile growing on the corner of his lips. “How was…” but you didn’t give him the occasion to finish his sentence, leaving the dark corridor in a hurry.

It was odd that after a week of thinking only about him, about the blue of his eyes, about the way his voice would seem lighter when he was holding back his laugh, about the cute way he’d smile only a half of joy, you ran away from his presence like he was your worst nightmare when, in fact, he was present in your sweetest dreams.

It was your desire to be alone the one which made you isolate yourself in your room for some good hours, crying and hitting the pillows, throwing them in the walls and then gathering them, only to throw them again. You felt the way Snape’d describe your skills, work or everything you did: trash – you felt like trash. You thought about going to dinner with your housemates when you heard them leaving the Common Room, but you realized that Snape’s face, eating at the teachers’ table would’ve turned your stomach upside down. So you stayed there for another hour, thinking about everything and nothing in particular; you just knew that you were sick of it, sick of everything and you just needed a break.

And that’s what you did: you took a break. You left the dormitory only undressing yourself from the blue robes and went running on the empty corridors. When you left, you weren’t sure where you’d go – but you found yourself in the Astronomy Tower, watching the entire yard and the environs of the castle. The sky was painted in pastel colors, the sun bathing in the red color of the lake. It was beautiful and you wanted nothing than to be the same with all of it.

“I hate it all!” you screamed looking up to the sky, closing your eyes. “I hate Severus Snape!” you screamed again, opening your eyes and looking down. It was a long, long way to the bottom, where the cobbled paths would wait. “I hate that he managed to make me feel so useless,” now you whispered, tightening the metal balustrade between your palm until they became white. You shook the metal as hard as you could, but it stood still; the effort left you breathless, but you still managed to scream from the bottom of your lungs: “I hate myself!”

You had no idea where that came from – it was the first time you thought that way about you, but it felt very honest. You hated how much pressure you’ve put on your shoulders and now that you were too weak to carry it all, you felt worthless. The only thing you knew was that you were crying, so hard that your sobs didn’t let you hear the steps approaching you in such a hurry. The force of the hand that grabbed your elbow was unexpected, making you stumble on your own legs. The warm feeling immediately invaded your whole body as soon as you fell in a pair of arms, which were holding you hard enough not to fall to the ground.

“What the hell were you doing, Y/N?!” he screamed, the image of his face being blurred because of the tears in your eyes. You blinked a few times and there he was: Draco Malfoy, with a worried look on his face but with the same beautiful blue eyes.

“Draco…” you whispered and grabbed the material of his white shirt, “What are you doing here?” you managed to ask without your voice cracking.

“You didn’t come to dinner, and after the way you walk away from earlier…” he said and became paler, “But what were you doing? Don’t tell me you tried to…”

But you shook your head in negation faster than the words he said. “No, of course not,” you said trying to convince yourself more than him. “I was just… having a moment,” you explained and withdrew from his arms, hugging yourself to calm down.

“What happened, Y/N?” he asked again and touched your shoulders, his hands burning the skin under your uniform shirt.

“Snape said I copied your essay,” you succeed to whisper after a long silence, the tears coming back into your eyes.

His brows went lower, his mouth in a line. “Have you told him that I helped you?”

“No,” you said, now crying again. He wiped away a tear that rolled on your cheek. “He told me to leave before I could say anything, and now I have detention a whole week.”

“Sh, sh, sh,” he hummed as he pulled you back into his arms, one of his hands laying on your back as the other one was caressing your hair. “You don’t need to cry,” he spoke gently and his movements became clumsy as you cried even harder. “I’ll take care of it, Y/N,” he assured you and suddenly, your tears dried up.

“What?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

“I… I’ll talk to Snape about it,” he repeated, “It’s not fair to act that way towards you when your essay was so good.”

All the parts of your body were screaming to kiss him only because he was that near to you. But you were too puzzled up to even hear those screams in your head. “You’ll get in trouble too, Draco.”

“No,” he smiled. “Let’s say that Snape owns my father one,” he smiled devilish, and contrary his expectations you smiled like you haven’t been crying until then.

“But why are you doing that?” you laughed and tried not to freak out because he was still holding you.

“So you could own me one later,” he continued to smile even after you hit them slightly in chest. “What? Nothing’s free, remember?”

You bit your cheek, trying to hold back a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

“So we have a deal?”

“No,” you said and raised a brow. “We have a deal only if you don’t get yourself in trouble by talking to Snape or, even worst, getting me into a bigger mess. You need to succeed in order to have a deal.”

“That sounds like a deal to me,” he smirked and ran a hand through his blonde hair, which seemed more like gray in the light given by the moon.

“We have a deal, then,” you laughed and tighten up a bit the grip on his shirt.

“Don’t ever stay that close to the edge again,” he asked you and you could see the same feeling of anxiety on his face. You nodded your head in agreement and he hugged you again. “You scared the shit out of me,” he confessed.

It was the first time in your life when you felt that somebody was truly worried about you. Your parents would’ve just watch you break down and then get up and try again, telling you that it’s the normal way to educate yourself. But that night, in his arms, you felt that you weren’t the same lonely child. It was a warm feeling, a feeling of a new burning in your heart. And it was a nice feeling.

I fell in your arms tonight / I fell hard in your arms tonight / It was nice

You agreed to meet Draco the next day in the Astronomy Tower half an hour before the dinner would finish and you were surprised to see him already there, welcoming you with the same somehow evil smirk he had the other day.

“You own me one,” he said without even waiting for you to say something. “Snape told me he’ll forget about the detention, but you need to make some rephrasing on your essay.” He was proud of his manipulative skills and you could see it in his eyes – there was a little sparkle as you approached him.

“Good job, Draco,” you said smiling from an ear to the other. “I guess I own you one.”

“Yes, yes you do.”

You look over the skyline and went closer to the balustrade, Draco following you closely even after you sat down on the stone floor, your legs hanging on the outside. You seemed to be secure enough, so Draco sat down and looked at the sunset as well.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You already did,” he puffed and you punched his shoulder, smiling.

“You’re an idiot, you know what I mean.”

“Why am I an idiot?” he asked and turned to face you with an ugly look.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that!” you told him quickly. “I call my friends that way when they say something dumb but they’re funny at the same time,” you explained, ashamed that you offended him.

He was silent for a moment and looked at the lake again. “My father uses that term to talk about incompetent people,” he said and you looked away from his face.

“I guess it’s a way to use it, too,” you spoke shy.

“Why do you want to ask me?” he changed the subject, removing the awkward tension between you two.

“Why did you called Hermione Granger that word?” you asked cautious not to upset him with your curiosity.

“That’s what she is,” he said nonchalantly, “She’s a Mudblood, and she is inferior to us.”

“Only because of her blood?” you laughed. “And how do you know I’m not inferior to you too?”

“I made my research on you before talking to you again,” he shrugged.

“She’s superior to both of us in many ways, Draco,” you told him and looked at him in the moment he did the same. “She lives in another world at the same time she lives in this one,” you explained, “We were born surrounded by magic and that’s our only way of living.”

He lour. “Why do you say that?”

“I take the Muggle Studies class,” you smiled proudly.

“Why would you do that?” he scoffed. If you ignored his mentality on that subject, you could say he was really cute.

“It’s interesting,” you started. “They have many objects we have no idea about and they have fairy tales about anything – they’re kind of superstitious.”

“Superstitious?” he asked like he was curious and not like he wanted to mock you.

“Yeah,” you said and got up. “Maybe I’ll tell you about some superstitions one day.”

“Tomorrow night,” he asked you and got up as well.

“You want to know more about Muggles?” you laughed.

He shrugged. “It’s your chance to prove me they’re not inferior to us.”

“Ok,” you smiled and took the challenge.

You left the Tower walking by his side, and your heart skipped a beat when you realized that he walked you to your Common Room door, wishing you a goodnight. The next day Professor Snape wanted to talk to you again after class, this time apologizing for the way he managed the situation, but you could tell he wasn’t very pleased with what he was saying. When the dinner was nearly finished, you could see Draco leaving the Great Hall without looking in your direction and you knew it was the signal to get up and do the same thing after some minutes. You thought it’d be better if nobody would know where you were going and with who.

“Ready to learn about Muggles?” you asked him with joy as soon as you got in the highest place in Hogwarts.

“Whatever,” he laughed and rolled his eyes.

You brought a book you got last year on your birthday from Hermione, a book about a lot of things the Muggles believe in. You read out loud some pages and Draco only sat next to you, listening. It was somehow therapeutic to read in front of him because he didn’t disturb you, he even looked like he was enjoying it.

“So they even have a specific flower for when somebody dies?” he asked out of a sudden. He was really paying attention.

“Yeah, in some countries,” you smiled. “In Italy, France or Belgium – where it’s made the best chocolate – the white chrysanthemum is well known to be brought at somebody’s funeral. But they also represent loyalty and devoted love, so I think it makes it even more beautiful. They’re my favorites,” you smiled.

“A flower that represents the death is your favorite?” he laughed, making you roll your eyes. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’ve never seen a chrysanthemum, and that’s something, considering the fact that my mother has a gigantic garden.”

He was often talking about his mother and you deducted that he’s a mummy boy – it was cute to know that he loved his mother dearly.

“I would love to see it,” you smiled politely.

“Maybe you will,” he said and caught you by surprise. “I mean, maybe you’ll see a garden as big as my mother’s,” he clarified when he observed those big eyes of yours.

“Yeah,” you said in a quiet voice, looking back into your book.

“What?” he asked and you didn’t respond him.

You were… sad? Disappointed? It was a strange and groundless feeling given by the idea that you’ll never see the garden of his house, and that also meant that you’ll never meet his mother, who was already painted in your mind like an elegant and kind woman.

“Are you upset?” he asked again and grabbed your jaw carefully, making you form eye contact.

“No,” you said simply, and the honesty in your voice surprised you. It was like all the hard feelings were erased by his eyes, by their calming color.

“Good,” he smiled, “Because you shouldn’t be upset.”

“Why?” you asked.

“I’ll bring you all the flowers from my mother’s garden if you’re not upset,” he traced his fingers up to your cheek, placing a strand of hair behind your red ear – all your emotions ran to your head, making the skin he touched burn.

“Why?” you asked again like a curious kid.

He rolled his eyes in a playful way, trying to pretend he was tired of your whys. “Because a pretty face like yours shouldn’t frown. You’ll get wrinkles,” he laughed and pinched your nose.

“Auch,” you hissed, massaging the end of your nose. “You say I’m pretty?”

“I say it’s time to get you back to your Common Room,” he nodded his head and got up, offering you his hand to help you get up.

The walk to the Ravenclaw’s door was silent, and when you got there it was an even more annoying silence. He only watched you like he was waiting for your next move.

“Uh, I can’t come tomorrow night,” you informed him. “I have to help my roommate study for Transfiguration.”

“So she’s stealing my study buddy,” he joked.

“I’ll see you around, though?”

“Yeah, of course,” he smiled and you just wanted to kiss that little dimple of his.

So you did – you got up to your toes and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Draco,” you smiled and entered the empty room, all your housemates already being off to their dormitories, probably. Your heart was pouting hard, like it was trying to escape the little cage of your ribs, but your soul was feeling warm and sweet, like honey.

The next day you tried to focus in all your classes, you tried to pay attention to your friends but all you could think of was Draco Malfoy, with his blue eyes and sweet dimple. It was a boring night the one you spent in your room, listening and explaining to your roommate simple things about your Transfiguration class, the same ones that Draco found difficult – even that made you think about him. It was a great relief to walk again on the stairs that led you to the Astronomy Tower, the excitement making your heart jump with joy. It dropped to the bottom of your soul when you didn’t find him there, and it broke when he didn’t come at all.

Maybe you scared him – maybe he didn’t want you to kiss his cheek, maybe he didn’t want you so close to him. Maybe you screwed it up. And you really believed that when he didn’t come two nights in a row, making you to skip dinner on the third night. You didn’t have the power to cry again, but you really wanted to – you nearly managed to get a tear out of you if it wouldn’t be eagle owl which entered your room through the open window.

“What’s up with you, stupid bird?” you asked in anger, making the owl give you a response in the same tonality. “Easy,” you spoke as you took the little parchment from its claw.

‘You didn’t come to dinner, are you sick? If you are, take a good sleep and get better. — D.M'

You crumbled the little letter and thrown it away telling the bird to leave you alone. You walked from left to right, biting your nails out of anxiety and anger – who was he to ignore you three days and then ask to meet you? You grabbed the letter from the floor and read it again, and the curiosity won against your anger. You grabbed a blue sweater and ran to the Astronomy Tower, but walked the steps so he wouldn’t know the speed with which you came. You were furious at him – you couldn’t wait to scream at him and tell him to fuck off with his unhealthy behaviors, but when you saw him leaning on the stone wall in front of you with a bouquet of white flowers in his hand and a small box on the other one, you just froze on the last step.

“Hello, Y/N,” he greeted you with a smile on the corner of his lips. You approached him slowly; your eyes going from his face go his hands and back to his hands. “I see you’re not sick,” he said when you were in front of him. “Why haven’t you come to dinner?”

“Why didn’t you give me a sign of living?” you asked straight, searching for his eyes.

“I was… busy,” he said and cleared his throat. “But I asked my mother to get me those,” he smiled and handed you the bouquet of chrysanthemums and the little box. “Open it,” he asked impatient.

You undone the little bow and opened it with one hand, the other holding carefully the flowers. Your hands were shaking. “Chocolate,” you laughed nervous.

“From Belgium, just like the flowers,” he said proud, smiling. “Don’t you like them?” he asked a little panicked when you didn’t say a thing, only watching the flowers in such an examining way.

“I love them!” you said, “I love them, Draco,” you assured them, holding them to your chest like you were scared he’d get them back.

“Good, I hoped you’d say that.”

You smelt them, and your whole soul was dancing – the sweet smell reminded you of the late autumn’s rains, of the lazy sunrays and all the nice skies in the world.

“I love them Draco, but what’s the occasion?”

He massaged the back of his head, avoiding your eyes. “You don’t need a reason to get flowers, Y/N. You deserve them anytime,” he said and your heart exploded at his cuteness. “My mother told me it’d be nice if I would give them to you before anything else,” he said and bite his lower lip immediately after, like he said something he didn’t mean to.

“Before what, Draco?” you asked curious. He was so good at making you all set on fire, unfocused and yet so, so concentrated on him.

“You’re a nice girl, Y/N, really nice,” he said in a quiet voice. His tonality made you thought about a break-up – like he wanted to break the bond that began to form between you two.

“What are you trying to tell me, Draco?” you asked in a harsh tone. “Just say it, ok? You don’t need to bring me flowers and chocolate if you want to say goodbye, it’s not like I’m dying,” you said pointing to the chrysanthemums.

“No, no, Y/N,” he interrupted you. “The white chrysanthemums represent loyalty and devoted love,” he whispered.

“Oh,” was all you could say. “Oh,” you repeated when you figured out what he really meant.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, and you laughed along with him. The sound of his laugh made your heart put itself back together. “So…” he started and came closer to you.

“So?” you said, biting your lips and blinking slowly.

“So may I kiss you, Y/N?” he asked in such a kind voice, all your body going soft at his words. His mother must’ve taught him how to talk to a girl – and she did such a good job.

You nodded shyly and let yourself carried by his hands, which dragged your body closer to his. He gently pressed his lips on your, letting them stay together for a couple of seconds and then retiring. His blue eyes were looking into yours, burning with desire and impatience. Your hands tightened the flowers and the little box harder, and you put them around his neck, getting him even closer to you and smashing your lips back together. His hands were on your waist, grabbing the material of your sweater between his fingers. Your eyes were closed and your body was filled with warmth – you saw nothing and yet, somehow, you were aware of everything in the Universe through a white light.

White light in your arms tonight / I lost sight in your arms tonight / It was nice

The next months were full of love and laughs for you – Draco was the most careful boy you’ve ever been with. He still wanted you two to have secret little dates in the Astronomy Tower, where you’d read to him about Muggles and poetry written by them.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda cute that I listen to you reading about that non-sense?” he asked once.

“It’s poetry, Draco,” you scoffed, “It’s about love!”

Besides the secret dates, he really wanted to go public. He was the type to show you off in front of everyone, only to make sure that every other boys knew that you were off their league but in a kind way – he’d kiss your forehead on the hallways, walk you to classes even if that meant he’d be late to his and gave you endless gifts. You received a lot of chrysanthemums, love letters and sweets anytime his mother would send him a package. Your roommates were jealous of you even if they told you directly that they didn’t like Draco and there was nothing to do about it. Hermione wasn’t so happy either and somehow distanced herself from you when she found out about your relationship, but Draco made you to forget all those things – he was the bad guy in everyone’s story, and even if some time ago he wasn’t even a side-character in yours, he became the climax of your story. You didn’t love Draco for his gift, you loved him truly – you loved him for the kind words, the warm glares, the sweet kisses and the tight hugs. And you knew he loved you too, because he made you feel safe in the whole madness with the Dark Lord and the war everyone was talking about.

“Do you think there’ll be a war, Draco?” you asked one night when you two where curled up into each other’s arms.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he said absent.

“I heard that Harry’s forming an army,” you said and looked up to him, only to see him rolling his eyes.

“Potter isn’t capable to tie his own laces, my love, and you think he’s able to lead an army?” he laughed and that made you roll your eyes. “You’re funny.”

“But you’re the only one taking it as a joke, you’re the one who’s laughing,” you said and he frowned.

“Then I think I have to change that,” he said and his fingers came to your ribs, tickling you.

You started to laugh hard, to fight so you could escape his torture, begging him to stop. “Draco, that’s enough!” you screamed as you felt tears in your eyes, so you grabbed his arm and tried to scratch him playfully to make him stop.

Hissing, he let you go and pulled away from you, his hand over the left arm.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you asked worried that you hurt him.

“Nothing,” he said in an annoyed voice, getting up on his feet and looking down to you. “I’m fine,” he said and something in your mind clicked. For more than two weeks he’d say that stupid phrase whenever you asked him what happened – he seemed tired and anxious, but whenever you’d ask about him he’d become fine.

“Don’t try to fool me, Draco,” you said annoyed as well and, already on your feet, you’d try to grab his hand and reveal the possible wound.

“I said I’m fine, Y/N,” he repeated and avoided your hands like they’d burn him.

“And I said to stop fooling me!” you shouted and sneaked close enough to him to get his hand away from his arm, but he pushed you harder than he thought – you fell on the ground, a piece of material in your hand; his sleeve – ripped, revealing red lines, scratches – who were older, but reopened by your nails – which were covering the worst thing you could think of: the Dark Mark. The air left your lungs and your head started to spin, the vision becoming blurred.

“Y/N…” he tried to say, coming closer to you but you crawled away.

“What the fuck, Draco?!” you screamed and got up by yourself. “Stay away!” you said when he tried to approach you.

“I can explain, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking.

“How on earth you could explain the Dark Mark on your arm?” you shouted again, your hands running in your hair and pulling it.

“Sh,” he said loud, asking you to be quiet. “It’s not what it looks like, my love, I swear.”

You laughed – loud, nervous. “Then what it is?”

“They made me do it, Y/N!”

“They made you get the Dark Mark, become a fucking Death Eater and join Voldemort?” you screamed again and step back when he tried to come closer.

“My father, he… I didn’t want to, Y/N,” he said quietly, his eyes starting to get wet.

“You lied to me, Draco,” you whispered. “You said everything will be fine, you said you’ll protect me!”

“And I will!” he also screamed. “I will,” he repeated breathing heavily.

“How? Making me join the Death Eaters so they wouldn’t kill me later?” you mocked him, and you could say it hurt him to see you that way – but you didn’t care.

“Nobody will kill you, Y/N,” he said, trying to calm you. “You’ll be fine, we’ll be fine.”

“A war is coming, Draco,” you said harshly, “The Dark Lord is alive and back and anyone who’s against him is in danger.”

“You’re not in danger, Y/N,” he repeated. “We’re in this together, please, love,” he begged you, tears running down his face.

“We’re not on the same side, Draco,” you whispered.

“I thought you didn’t like to pick sides,” he said like he was trying to make you change your mind.

“We’re talking about a war, Draco, not a fucking fight in the courtyard,” you said and shook your head. “Just… leave me alone, please,” you asked him and started to walk away.

“Y/N, please!” he grabbed your wrist but you pulled away immediately.

“Don’t touch me ever again, Draco Malfoy,” you said in hatred, giving him a disgusted look before leaving him alone in the Astronomy Tower – alone, hurt and crying. He saw the disgust in your eyes, the hate and the fear.

Hard times came for you – you decided to act like nothing was happening, like you had no idea what Draco was and a part of you felt miserable for doing so, but other part was believing him, the other part was still loving him and it was hurting to see him and not run in his arms. You decided to let the time pass and decide what would happen with everything – but the time was cruel, because nothing good happened since that night. Dumbledore’s death, the Death Eaters, the continuing agony. You became scared to stay alone, thinking that a Death Eater or even Voldemort would show up and kill you – and Draco wouldn’t be there to protect you.

But when the real battle began, you felt all the adrenaline rushing through your body – Professor McGonagall seemed worried but she gave you the power to fight back, to fight for Hogwarts, for your friends, for Harry, for life. You never tried to spell hexes because it wasn’t necessary, but in the battles you had with some Death Eaters you remembered them all – and you casted them loud, pointing your wand in their direction with hatred. You were running on the same old stairs that led you to the Astronomy Tower, a loud and crazy laugh following you along with a curly hair and dark, mad eyes, thirsty for blood.

“Stop running, little doll!” she screamed when you got up, waiting for her with your wand ready, something that made her laugh. “Stubborn one, aren’t you?” she asked and walked closer to you with tangled steps.

“Crazy one, aren’t you?” you managed to gather your nerve to ask her. She didn’t seem too happy with your comment, because she lifted her wand – before she’d say anything, you screamed the Disarming Charm as loud as you could, making her wand fly from her hand and fall to the ground.

“Well, well,” she laughed, running her tongue over her bloody lips. “You won, now kill me!” she laughed, the sound driving you crazy.

“Shut up! Just shut up!”

“Kill me!”

“Crucio!” you screamed and the green light flashed from the tip of your wand, hitting Bellatrix Lestrange in the middle of her chest. She fell to the ground, laughing – it was hurting, but Bellatrix have been insane for a long, long time.

“Y/N!”

“Draco?” you said to yourself, watching the boy you loved running to you. He grabbed your shoulders, looking at you from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you alright? Did she hurt you?”

You looked at Bellatrix who was still to the ground, and you tighten your fingers around the wand.

“No,” you said and looked back to Draco. He seemed fine and a part of you wanted to scream that he was fine because he was one of them, they wouldn’t hurt him like that crazy woman tried to do to you, but the other part won that battle. You hugged him tight, wanting to make all the things disappear and be just you and him. “I’m scared, Draco,” you whispered.

“You’ll be fine, love,” he said and kissed your temple.

“So she’s the little doll that got you all soft, Draco?”

The fear ran through your body again and you pulled away from Draco, still holding his hands.

“Please,” he said and looked at the crazy woman who got her wand back. He let go of your hand and grabbed his wand, pointing it to her.

“Aw, Draco darling,” she laughed, “Does Cissy know that you’re pointing your want to your family?”Family?

“Aunt Bella, please, don’t hurt her,” Draco breathed heavily, not taking his eyes off of her.

“But she hurt me, Draco,” Bellatrix laughed, got her wand in your direction and casted an unspoken spell, only saying your name.

Draco tried to protect you, getting in front of you, but the purple light went through him and entered your body. The pain was indescribable, like all your internal organs were stabbed with hundred of knives. “No!” he screamed at his aunt, who only laughed louder and waved him goodbye before disappearing into a black cloud of smoke.

You’d feel your members go numb, dropping your wand and falling to the ground, making Draco to scream again like he could physically feel your agony. “Y/N!” he screamed.

Some balls of light were thrown in the tower’s direction, by the people outside, and they made the windows in the roof break, falling upon you along with pieces of tiles. Your sight went blurry, seeing Draco through red spots. “What’s happening, Draco?” you managed to ask him.

“You’re fine, my love,” he cried, tightening your shoulders, trying to hug you without hurting you.

“I can’t see you, hear you,” you cried and coughed; he started to sob even harder, watching the blood drop from your eyes and mouth as you tried to breathe. “I don’t feel very good,” you told him as it weren’t obvious.

“You’ll be alright, my love, stay with me,” he begged you.

His tears were falling on your face, mixing with the blood that was leaving your body – Bellatrix Lestrange chose a curse that gave you a slow and painful death.

“Hey, you,” you said, trying to make him pay attention to you. You looked him in the eyes, trying hard to see them clear. “Don’t you think it’s kinda cute?”

“What?” he whispered.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda cute,” you repeated, “That I died right inside your arms tonight?”

“No! No! No!” he said, his voice shaking. “Don’t you dare to do this to me, Y/N! Do you hear me? Stay with me!”

But you were gone – you left that world with a little smile on your lips, with bloody tears on your face and with the memory of his eyes watching you, of his arms holding you. And that made death a less painful thing for you.

That I'm fine even after I have died / Because it was in your arms I died

“No, Y/N!” he screamed, realizing you were gone. “Come back! Come back, Y/N, you own me one!”

“I’m sorry, Draco,” you whispered while watching him from behind – you could also see your lifeless body, laying on the ground with glass pieces, rocks and blood all over it and it made you cry. You floated over your body and tried the stupidest thing you could think of: going back inside. But it was impossible – it felt like it was locked. Bloody tears were falling from your eyes, and you damned Bellatrix Lestrange for giving you such an ugly death: you’ll cry blood for eternity on the Hogwarts’ halls as a ghost. “I want to come back, Draco!” you screamed at the same time when he asked you to come back.

I cry in the afterlife / I cry hard because I have died / And you're alive / I try to escape the afterlife / I try hard to get back inside / Your arms tonight

The battle was over: Lord Voldemort was now dead, Bellatrix Lestrange was dead along with other Death Eaters, but so were a lot of innocent people: now, some students would stay forever in the castle because they chose to remain behind; they, just like you, were too scared of death and chose an imitation of life. As a ghost, you didn’t really felt like showing to everyone; it hurt you enough to know they missed you, and to see their broken souls when they’d realize you’re trapped in this world as a ghost would be more painful than your death. You knew nothing about Draco for a long time – you stayed in the tower all the time, and you already knew that after some years, when the school would be rebuilt, the little kids would call you the ghost of the Astronomy Tower – that thought made you smile; maybe they’d call you Bloody Y/N, or Bloody Crybaby Y/N, or… whatever name would fit a blood-crying ghost. That’s how you spent many months – thinking, crying, whishing you’d have chose the death.

A loud cry woke you up one day – you looked over to the balustrade, where a tall figure was shaking while looking down, down all the way to the ground. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said and you recognized him easily. “I’m so fucking sorry, my love,” he cried again and you approached him. On the ground, at his feet, was a bouquet of white chrysanthemums – they made your eyes tear up immediately.

“I promised you I’d protect you and I failed,” he whispered. “I hate myself since that day, my love,” he confessed.

To let him know about your presence was a bad idea – he’d be devastated to see you that way.

“I’ll see you soon, love,” he spoke to himself, or so he thought because he jumped in surprise when you screamed.

“Wait!”

“Y/N…” he cried, now facing you and crying harder. “You’re… alive?”

“Draco…” you sighed, “What are you doing here?”

He came closer and tried to hug you, but his arms went through you with ease. “You’re… a ghost.”

“Please don’t jump,” you said crying harder than him. It was a horrible image, indeed, to see a blood-crying ghost – but he was in love with you.

“I miss you, Y/N, I want to be with you,” he told you like he asked for permission.

But you shook your head in disapproval. “You won’t like it here, darling,” you smiled. “Please, stay – be happy and live.”

“I love you, Y/N, how could I live without you?” he cried like a little child, helpless.

You pointed to the flowers. “If your love is devoted, you’d spend the rest of your life fulfilling my wish, Draco.”

“Y/N…”

“Stay alive, Draco. I’ll be here, always,” you promised and cried.

He ran his hands through his hair, his blue eyes crying you a river. When he calmed down, he bent over and grabbed the flowers, handing them to you. You cried in pain, but still tried to get them – and you where surprised when you could.

“Come back to me, Y/N,” he said and you tried your best to make his wish come true. You tried to hug him, to kiss his forehead – he could swear he felt your cold skin on his.

“I wish I could, my love,” you said and stayed in front of him, with the sign of his devoted love in your hand.

And hey (hey), you (you), don't you think it's kinda cute / That I (I) try (try) to escape the afterlife / That I (I) try (try) to get back in your arms alive / That I died in your arms

#vogueweasley3k #draco malfoy x reader #ravenclaw reader #draco x y/n #slowburn #angst #arms tonite #draco x you #hogwarts #astronomy tower #tw death #tw blood #tw mature languge

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a-table-of-fics · 4 years ago

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Oddworld, Conar's Ambition, Chapter 2, Draft 1

[[Thanks to Tumblr updating the post length limit, I can finally put the full draft of Chapter 2 in one big post!]]

Slim was silent in line to Slugbite Motel. The chatter was hopefully decent cover; he didn’t need yet more attention after his outburst. If he kept his head down, he’d be fine, and wouldn’t get any more surplus bruises on top of the regular workday bruises.

He heard chatter all around him, gossip from other Slog Huts, Splinterz, and Flub Fuels.

“Management must be pissed, what with -”

“I can’t believe what Skrag did to me! What got into-”

“- hear about FeeCo?”

“We’re gonna be settin’ some electric fences up tomorrow, anyone know about -”

“ – say Abe’s got to Necrum –“

“ -Sligs must be worried if Abe’s getting’ to their place –“

Any talk of Abe was, of course, in whispers. No one believed him to be a terrorist, really, but everyone knew better than to celebrate. Well, everyone but him, apparently, but still. Slig forces were already pretty antsy right now, and there were cameras everywhere. Besides, it was a long day full of more abuse than normal. Everyone was just ready for bed, so to speak. Sure, it was less a bed and more a closet with a dirt floor and next to no elbow room, but it was a place to sleep, nonetheless.

It was almost his turn in the queue. Slim dug in his pouch for his meal ticket. With any luck, he’d get half a Scrabcake with the somewhat edible slop they served here. He presented the ticket to the Slig clerk Jeandis. Jeandis took one look, rolled his eyes from under his visor, and then slammed the counter to his left, deepening the indentation next to the bell. A Mudokon, wearing a light brown cap with deep red stripes and a similarly-colored loincloth, emerged from the back door, carrying a tray of gruel with him.

The tray had no trace of Scrabcakes, sadly, but it did come with a small can of that drink everyone was talking about – Soulstorm Brew. The green can with that nondescript Glukkon’s face on it was an interesting look, at least, and the somewhat sickly Mudokon in those commercials did look exceedingly happy when Director Phleg gave him a crate of the stuff, as if it was sorely-needed medicine. Slim even saw the server longingly stare at the can he had to give him.

“On the house… buddy,” Jeandis said, his line carefully rehearsed. “You saw the commercials; it’s a freebie!”

“Um, okay, thanks.”

Slim took his dinner tray and a plastic spoon over to find a seat that was open; this was no small feat in a Slugbite Motel. Many Mudokons had long since given up on the prospect, instead sitting on the floor against any given wall. He noticed how everyone was given similar cans of Brew, and a lot of the chatter he came across was already shifting from the recent Abe scare to the Oddsend the new drink was.

He walked through the throngs of fellow Scrubs, the smell of Brew filling the air. It was very strange; a tangy aroma that was also somehow familiar. The chatter grew louder and more animated as time went on, and even Slim was feeling a little less tired from the fumes and infectious cheer.

Still, it was a long day, so he still prepared to just sit down and eat. He found a place next to Ben, and dug in. Well, as much as you could dig in with whatever this was. Some said those were fruit chunks mixed in with the goop, some said they were Elum Chubs, but one thing for certain was they were undercooked. It was well known that this was the least of dinner’s concerns, sadly.

Slim took a few shaky scoops, doing his best to forget the words “gag reflex”. He was able to swallow the muck as usual, but he found himself coughing; it felt like he was eating sawdust under the slimy texture!

“Yeah,” Ben said, sympathetically, “Jeandis’ Special really sucks today, doesn’t it?”

“WHO SAID THAT?!” demanded Jeandis, so loud that everyone on the other side of the cafeteria could clearly hear the greenish-yellow Slig. The din died down as a furious head chef stomped over to the wall where the sound came from. There were at least ten cowering Scrubs under his wrathful glare, and they were all pointing grey or green fingers at each other.

“This is more than you deserve, ya miserable Chippunks! You oughta know I could—Eh?”

He was interrupted by frantic whispers from the server Mudokon, who was quick to rush up to his boss. He lowered his fist, slowly, and his face-tentacles sagged.

“…You oughta know…er…I could getcha another can of Brew to…wash it down…?”

Nine out of ten Mudokons were nodding enthusiastically, and the Scrubs at the surrounding tables cheered.

“Shut up and get in line again if you want another round!”

Almost all the Mudokons immediately shot up and sprinted into line. Some of them trembled excitedly while they waited.

Slim had never seen the cafeteria so alive or enthusiastic before. This Soulstorm Brew stuff must have one hell of a kick. If he drank it now, he’d probably be up all night. Best to save this stuff for when he needed it – no need to come to work tired tomorrow.

Besides, if all else failed, he had a bartering tool now.

With this in mind, he tucked the can he had into his pouch. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to sleep with a dry throat; he knew better than to ask Jeandis for anything else to drink.

His body still ached, and it had been a long day on top of that, so while Jeandis was occupied with his sudden fame, Slim quietly ate up the rest of his “meal” and left. With the “first come, first served” policy of getting a room for the night, he was able to get one right by the cafeteria for once. He might even be able to get breakfast tomorrow!

He dug in his pouch for his ID, and a quick scan gave him the room for the night. As the door closed behind him, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the windowless closet. When he did, he could see all kinds of scratchings on the wall. Short complaints about bosses and a variety of tally marks filled most of it, but there were some other things. There was the occasional crude drawing of a bird, which gave Slim nostalgia over something he never experienced. There were conversations between anonymous Mudokons, about the latest gossip, concerns, and anything else. It was comforting; they watched out for each other and kept each other informed even when they didn’t really know each other.

With his nightly reading done, Slim slumped down to the ground. The dirt here was cool, but nothing he wasn’t used to. With any luck, he wouldn’t wake up to Bolamites crawling over him, but that was a problem for future him. Present him just had to be absorbed by the soft earth, and dream of a better workday, one where Abe saved him from this miserable job and blew up the Slog Hut.

It was all he could do, really.

* * *

It wasn’t even five minutes before he felt a cold breeze, and the light of the hallway made him squeeze his eyes shut more before sitting up. A hand went up to shield his vision, but he was still blinded for a moment while he tried to make out the silhouette. A Slig, for sure, but that hardly narrowed it down. The Pants were pretty basic, being two robotic legs attached to a large ball. However, the giveaway was the mask that obscured this particular guard’s face. It was one of the older visors, like some Sligs still wore, with a single long visor. However, this one covered his scalp, forming an ugly black helmet rather than just a scary red visor. Only Conar had that version, but what was he doing here of all places?

Well, it couldn’t be anything good. Slim shuddered, wondering what he’d have to apologize for to get a manager from work to find him in this motel. But… no beating or gunfire came his way. In fact, Conar looked taken aback. He wasn’t aiming his Blunderbuss anywhere in particular, and his head kept turning either way, as if he wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Well, whaddaya know, Slim,” he said, after a moment. “Funny I’d run into you here…”

Slim blinked, lowering his hands, but remaining where he was.

“So, uh... you wanna get outta shoveling Slog crap?”

Slim opened his mouth to answer, but Conar grabbed his arm, so the Scrub’s confused questions were interrupted by his own yelp.

“Time’s up!” Conar said, hearing the chatter die down in the cafeteria. “We’re leavin’!”

“Oh-okay…”

“And you’re gonna shut yer yap! We ain’t supposed to be doing this, you know!”

With that, the two of them silently beat feet away from the hubbub of the mess hall, kicking up a lot of dirt on their way.

The hall separated into two different ways at the end. Conar knew that to the left was the back door he came from, and was going to drag Slim with him. But Slim had other ideas, nearly pulling Conar out of his Pants as he pulled them both to the right.

Conar adjusted his seat so he could run properly again, then struggled to get out of Slim’s grip.

“What the hell?!” he protested, before realization struck, and he quieted down. “The back way’s the otherhall!”

“Where do you think most’f the Sligs are?” Slim harshly whispered. “Seen at least four Mudokons try that, and they never make it to the parking lot!”

“Oh, and the front door’sgonna be much better? Hah!”

“Dunno,” Slim shrugged. “No one’s tried it.”

Conar was about to say something pretty snippy, but he saw they were close to the lobby. The pair stopped just short, and Conar looked ahead. There wasn’t much to see, past the dozens of bored Mudokons waiting in line to be checked in by a very bored Glukkon receptionist, complete with a very bored Slig there to type the guests’ numbers in.

No one was looking their way, so Conar motioned for Slim to follow, and the two of them walked towards the other exit. They made it about halfway through before the Pud looked up.

“Where do ya think you’re goin?!”

“Ah…” Conar started, before regaining his composure. “Y’see, he was volunteered to work overtime tonight! Just came here to pick ‘im up!”

The Glukkon rose to his full height, which would have been impressive if he had shoulder pads or any non-plaid clothing. His assistant also rose, clicking a pen as violently as one could manage. Both Conar and Slim hunched a little, preparing to put their hands over their heads.

The receptionists walked over, sneering. The Mudokons in the queue muttered, some talking about the scene, others complaining about this new delay between them and dinner.

The Glukkon leaned close, so close Conar could almost read the miniscule nametag.

“We have procedures for this, you know! Guests –“ he said the word like most would say “slurg”, “—are to be signed out before leaving the premises!”

Slim blinked. It was hard to tell if Conar did the same.

“Yeah, er…” Conar said, rubbing his head. “Sorry, sir. I thought you wanted ‘im in line, too.”

“And risk the liability?” the receptionist exclaimed. “No, we have registration protocol for a reason!You security and your..your… unprofessionalism!”

His assistant merely gave Conar a look of resignation before marching back to check the Mudokons in.

“If we were to mix the lines like that, our quotas would go kaput! And this is a fine establishment!”

Conar chose not to bring up the dirt floor or the mold-eaten wallpaper. He was already debating whether or not this endeavor was worth it. Zoning out and wondering about that was far easier than listening to this chump.

“…My brothers and I… investors….”

Conar nodded along, thinking about the future, and the riches that would be in store for him. Maybe he could force Zeb to work for him. Of course, something like that would come after a little bit of begging for mercy. But what to spend the well-earned Moolah on? Maybe he’d get himself a nice, classy suit, with premium Slig Pants, armor, and a nice, big gun with all the works…

“…So, I’d really appreciate it if you’d show some class and go to the other desk!”

“Yes, sir!” Conar nodded, moving over to the empty desk. The Glukkon waddled over to the other side, and started controlling some machinery with his shoes.

“Name?”

“Slim.”

Tap, tap, tap.

“…Not found in our records.”

“Can’t you just add ‘im?”

“We just went over this! There are procedures! It will not be as simple as your mind! I can’t just add a Mudokon who is already in the--”

As Conar prepared to sigh, Slim stepped forward.

“Sorry sir,” he said, putting on his best Gluk-pleasing face (that is, a weak smile politely begging for mercy), “He must not’ve read my ID. Do you need my number?”

The receptionist laughed, looking down at Conar while nodding. He kept chuckling at the absurdity of this Slig’s ineptitude as he worked the pedals, searching for Slim by number. He finally stopped adding to Conar’s humiliation, catching his breath while reading what came onto his black-and-white monitor.

“Right, right, you’re all set to leave. Can’t be too careful this day and age, with all those escapees… Anyway, give him a few corporate-approved smacks to keep him in line, would you?”

Connar nodded, a little too hastily. After a moment to ensure no signature or receipt was needed, he turned and poked Slim with his blunderbuss.

“Alright, get movin’. We’re goin’ to work, now!”

Conar couldn’t believe it; he was expecting a tense escape, maybe an amazing shootout. But no; he was walking through the front door, with a Mudokon openly in tow. He even waved at a couple of the guards on his way out. He looked up at Slim, who kept himself hunched and shivering in a clearly practiced manner. The two of them marched in silence for a while, with Conar occasionally tapping the muzzle of his gun against Slim’s back for effect.

“You’re welcome,” Slim finally said, once they were closer to the Slog Huts again, and well out of earshot.

“What, you expectin’ thanks?” Conar asked, laughing at the audacity. “I was the one bustin’ ya out, y’know!”

Slim gave a smug grin, leaning against the wall as he did so.

“Oh, really? You go out the back with a Mudokon like you wanted, they’d be throwing your lead-filled ass into the recycler faster than you can say—”

He tried making that noise he heard many Sligs shout, but it sounded more like his lungs were playing tug-of-war.

“Yeah, well, you seemed pretty comfy in that filthy closet.”

“Ha, yeah, thanks,” Slim laughed, looking around for a moment. “So uh, why didja get me out of there anyway?”

“Right, yeah,” Conar said, clearing his throat. “So, you’re gonna help me take Zeb down a peg. If that Abe guy can take down RuptureFarms, I figure you can help me get his Moolah and ruin ‘im!”

Slim’s smile faded, and he looked at Conar like the Slig grew legs on the spot.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nah,” Conar shook his head. “This should be easy; we go in, hold ‘im at gunpoint, and—”

“And just how,” Slim asked, leaning forward until he was face to face with Conar, “do you expect us to ‘go in’? Do you even know where his office is?”

Conar’s smug grin faltered.

“Eh--? I…”

“To say nothin’ about the security he’s probably got! You got the news just like I did; they’re scared. They probably got security tighter than Jeandis’ skull there! Didja think any of this—”

He was cut off by a blunderbuss muzzle under his chin. So it was going to be certain death or immediate death, he saw.

“…G-got it. So, what’s the plan, boss?”

#oddworld #oddworld conar's ambition #oddworld fic #chapter 2 #draft 1 #oddworld conars ambition full chapter

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imaginemic · 5 years ago

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sasara catching feelings for someone and pining over them headcanons? i hope you've been feeling better!!

I don’t know what pining is im so sorry i have one braincell

Sitting at the counter of the local pub, Sasara stared into space - rolling the plastic straw that was nestled in a now melted mess of ice cream and vibrant green melon flavored soda. Normally, he would be able to down five of the overly sweet drinks, but tonight his mind was elsewhere.

There was an absolute angel of a person at his show last night and maybe it’s because they were laughing at his jokes and even came up to him give a small bouquet of flowers, telling him that he was wonderful and you hoped to catch another one of his acts soon. He wanted to keep talking to them, but they were soon swept away by their friends with a soft “See you soon!”

That send-off was what made his heart just do backflips - he hoped that he would be seeing them soon.

“Let’s go to his next show!” The voice was familiar and he turned, his eyes falling on the object of his replaying memory standing at the entrance with the program from last night’s show. He didn’t want to interrupt their night with friends - so he just called over the waitress and pointed you out, ordering a cream soda for you and handed her an envelope. He made a habit of carrying around guest show passes in case one of his friends came to Osaka last minute and wanted to see him perform, but since they were so excited to see him again and he took that “See you soon!” as a promise of a longer conversation - he decided to put them to use.

He finished off his room-temperature cream soda and he spun before stepping off the stool, smiling at he nearly walked right into them - the smile on their face was so genuine and kind, the envelope being held to their chest.

They stumbled over their words, trying to thank him but pass the tickets back because it was too much. Of course, he brushed it off and told them that he’s excited to see them at the show and they can come in early to chat some more.

He said his goodbyes, waving at them as he left the building and unwrapped a lollipop - heading towards Rosho’s apartment - he knew the teacher was home, probably stressing over tests or something, but this was more important right now - he needed to impress someone and he had a day to figure out how

#nsasara #hypmic #headcanons

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letters-from-the-three-houses · 5 years ago

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GODDD I /LOVE/ your edelgard x dimitri stuff so much omfg... all this potential for tenderness and angst between these two is just so *chefs kiss* im shy but can i request a deeper look into what edelgard might like about dimitri (physical, personality, etc) i imagine being the heiress makes her a bit detached, and she never got to feel like a normal girl with a crush... let her love and my poor soft boy be appreciated

thank you!!!! i’m grateful for the praise, anon, but that explanation of yours is a chef’s kiss all to itself! claude would know and he would be entertained by it. in the original draft of the other post, i said he’d think of eddie/dimitri as his favourite source of melodrama, but i got rid of it bc it didn’t flow well with the rest of the hcs

this turned out to be longer than i expected (holy smokes), so thank goodness the read more finally works again

enjoy!

p.s. for those who don’t know yet, it’s currently my fourth favourite season of the year—midterm season—hence why the blog’s been running slow these days. i’ll be back to normal speed once the second week of july rolls around. so just in time for the two week countdown! i’ll still doing my best to work on requests in my spare time, but studying’s important and i’m going to get me some good grades 🕶️

edelgard’s initial impression of him was that he was much too like herself

with a slight frown and a straight stature, he looked regal, imposing, and dignified

calculating and cool, wary and doubting

she could see herself in him and it put her on her guard

so when she introduced herself for the first time, she made sure to act as aloof at possible

“i am edelgard von hresvelg,” she said, a hand on her chest as she bowed. “it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, prince dimitri”

she expected him to do the same, a well-practiced propriety that only the heir of faerghus could have

so when he grinned, she froze

“well met,” he told her, genuity dripping from his voice. “but really, the honour is entirely mine. i’ve heard only the best things about you, and though i had no doubt they were true, your prowess against those bandits only solidified the claim”

it made her more uneasy than she’d admit, but she masked her discomfort with a passive expression

and during their entire trip to the monastery, she stole secret glances his way, still confused and trying to understand their interaction

whenever he caught her eye, he simply smiled and nodded at her

it was all so baffling

and it bugged her so much that when they were already in the academy, she continued her habit of studying him

she couldn’t understand how someone so…innocent could make it this far on their own

she got her answer one day when she found him laughing and joking around with his housemates

and realization clicked

there, she thought

he could act so open because he believed he had people he could trust to watch his back

and for a moment, all she felt was pity

it was foolish of him

naive

didn’t he know that putting too much faith in someone made it easier for them to stab you in the back?

whenever he was around, she couldn’t help but watch him—like she was waiting for a train wreck to happen

surely this would all fall apart

sooner or later, his so-called ‘friends’ would show their true selves and intentions

but no matter how long she waited, nothing happened

and she began to think

maybe

just maybe

his housemates really treated him like he hasn’t the prince of faerghus

but instead, like he has their equal

like he was just…him

the idea was rather foreign to her, but if she was being fully honest, it was intriguing

she still thought it was unwise

but she was curious to know how it was possible

was it something about dimitri in particular? or was it perhaps because the people in faerghus were just more trusting in nature?

she wondered what it’d be like if adrestia was like that

(and at that, she shook her head and forced herself to turn away)

(nonsense; that line of thinking would surely get her into trouble)

(and yet, she couldn’t help but sneak another glance, watching the way his face brightened when he laughed)

because of interest, or perhaps habit—what else would it be?—she continued studying his every move and mannerism

whenever she talked with him, she memorized his expressions

in an argument, his brows pinched together as he frowned, showing every crease and wrinkle of disagreement

when he was taken aback, pale skin giving way to a warm blush, he stuttered and stumbled on his words

when she quipped a joke, rare as it was, his eyes shone in awe, mouth slightly ajar, before he schooled his features into a smile

it was hard to look away from

and the image of him, light and happy, would remain at the forefront of her mind for the rest of the day

from then on, she sometimes daydreamed about him

reimagining the emotions that would flit on his face

and how, even if he’d try to hide them, they would bleed through with his bad acting

how he’d try to pretend he hadn’t just jumped five feet in the air in surprise

or how he’d clear his throat to divert the attention from his reddening ears

she’d breathe out a laugh before realizing what she was doing, and she’d snap out of it to redirect her thoughts elsewhere

it didn’t stop people from noticing

whenever she was in that mood, staring out into space with a pensive look, hubert would ask, “my lady, are you alright?”

and she’d jolt back to her senses, replying with a “most certainly” before going back to her book

or petra would look on, quizzical at edelgard’s constant sighing, and say, “distraction by something, lady edelgard?”

“no,” she’d say after a moment’s pause. “it’s nothing. sorry, petra, what were you saying about practice?”

it was rather subtle, but the moments and slip ups compounded as the days went on, and the eagles were all worried about what was happening

they finally realized what it was during one of the house tournaments

usually, when the match was against the deer, edelgard would study her housemate’s every move, noting any mistakes and areas for improvement that she’d touch upon later

but when it was against the lions, their leader seemed almost…expectant?

even when the match was bernadetta vs. mercedes—and edelgard was taking careful consideration to make sure bernadetta got the encouragement she needed

her gaze would keep sliding over

so, following edelgard’s line of sight, they noticed she was looking at dimitri

dorothea gasped

caspar elbowed linhardt so hard he almost toppled over

hubert and petra blinked in realization

and ferdinand, disgusted, had a look on his face that said, ‘out of all the people she could have chosen, she chose him? seriously?’

but they watched in silence, eyes flitting back and forth between the two leaders

meanwhile, edelgard was unaware of what was going on behind her

and when bernadetta won, she stiffened as dimitri came over to relay his congratulations

he grinned, almost cheeky. “as expected from your members, edelgard. after all, they learn from the best”

she stared for a moment, a bubbly feeling rising up in her stomach, before she turned her gaze to the training grounds. “yes, quite. you’d best keep up lest you get left in the dust”

“of course. i suspect we’ll be training hard for the next few weeks.” he laughed and it was light, like cold air on a winter’s morning. “still, it’s no loss to lose to you”

her eyes flashed at that, ready to retort

was that an insult?

was he implying they were too insignificant to even be considered proper opponents?

but when she focused on him, she stopped, the argument dying on her lips

because once again, dimitri was staring at her with an earnestness that told her he had utmost faith in her abilities

again, he didn’t bother to hide the full extent of his feelings

but unlike the first time, it didn’t make her uncomfortable

instead, it made her feel…warm?

almost happy?

she softened, about to respond in kind when she realized what was happening

and she hardened her expression before clipping out, “then i suppose matches aren’t the only thing you’ll lose, if your pride has already slipped from you. farewell”

then she turned around, calling to her house to tell them they were leaving

(caspar almost screamed, “what are you doing?!” but linhardt clamped a hand over his mouth)

for the next few days, the eagles secretly monitored edelgard, noting the times when she stopped in her tracks to stare at something

or when her lips would twitch upwards

or when she’d look almost…longing

and they would find dimitri in the area

but whenever they tried to subtly talk about it—"so, have you been thinking about anyone lately?“—edelgard would look at them like she didn’t understand

finally, it dawned on them: he was her first crush

(ferdinand sighed and said it wasn’t worth the effort, but dorothea dragged him along anyway and told him it was for the greater good)

they began to be more overt, name dropping dimitri into conversations and saying good things about him

“he’s talented and smart. he gets top marks in his house, doesn’t he?”

“yeah. and he certainly doesn’t slack off in training”

“he’s also really considerate! just the other day, i saw him help someone who tripped and had all their books flying all over the place. when they tried to apologize to him, he said it was no trouble and even offered to carry some of their stuff to their next class”

“huh, he’s pretty cool”

edelgard would nod along, a smile playing on her face as she felt proud that people were acknowledging his strong qualities

one day, they asked back, “what do you think about him?”

and she stopped in her tracks, heart in staccato, as she simply said, “he’s much too nice for his own good”

too trusting

too honest

too expressive

she thought of his eyes, always crinkled at the corners when he looked at her

his voice, smooth and velvety, when he leaned over to speak in her ear

his awe, clear and evident, when he praised her for her hard work

it made her insides all warm and fuzzy, but she didn’t say that out loud

(it was hard for the others to really guess what she meant by that, though they supposed her wistful tone was answer enough)

and they continued upping their game so she could finally realize that she liked him as more than a friend

dorothea lent her some romance novels, making her listen to explanations of how wonderful it would be to fall in love, all the while ranting about the symptoms that edelgard herself had shown

“sneaking glances when you think they aren’t looking, holding your breath when they get too close to you, straightening your clothes when you see them at a distance—”

caspar would try to make her jealous by relaying gossip about the other people dimitri was close with

“his childhood friends must know a whole lot about him! do you think they have some embarrassing stories they can share?”

bernadetta, cooking way too many extra sweets, would say, “maybe you could give this to someone you know? there are too many to eat by myself…”

(edelgard shared it with the rest of her housemates first, then the professors, then claude, then dimitri, who gave her such a sweet smile in return that her skin turned warm)

(her housemates only shook their heads and sighed, but at least it was progress)

(and by this point, claude picked up the signals, sending the eagles a thumbs up in solidarity to tell them he’d do his part whenever he could)

it almost seemed hopeless, really, because edelgard just didn’t seem to understand her own feelings

but claude would have none of it

and instead of all the secretive mumbo jumbo, he went straight for the kill

“hey,” he whispered one day, after one of the interlord meetings, “do you like dimitri?”

she glanced at him, then the boy in question. her heart pattered at the word ‘like’. “of course i do. don’t you?”

“that’s not what i meant. i meant, you know—” he leaned in like he was going to tell her a secret, eyebrows wiggling all the while. “—romantically”

she almost choked. “what?”

the outburst caused dimitri to look at them, concerned, the question on his face asking, ‘are you okay?’

and she nodded at him, a bit embarrassed, before turning back to claude. “where did that come from?” she hissed under her breath

he chuckled. “don’t tell me you thought i didn’t notice. you sneak glances whenever you think he isn’t looking and you hang onto every word he says. it’s pretty obvious”

“what does that have to do with me liking him like…that?”

“um, because people who like someone act just like that? so you like him?”

“that’s…that’s nonsense”

he slung his arm over her shoulders. “oh come on, eddie—”

“don’t call me that”

“��i know you’re smarter than that. you’ve probably already figured it out but you just don’t want to admit it. ’course, i’d be bummed out myself if i found out i had a crush on our resident noodle boy—”

“don’t call him that”

he eyed her glare with amusement. “wow,” he chirped, “i knew it was bad, but i didn’t know it was this bad”

“is something the matter?” dimitri called from the other side. “the two of you have been whispering furiously to yourselves this past little while, and it’s showing no signs of stopping.” he frowned and tilted his head. “is it something i should know about?”

claude grinned. “yeah, definitely, we were talking about—”

“claude!”

“—the fine intricacies of human emotion. fascinating subject. very deep. the two of you should discuss it sometime”

then, with a wink and an exaggerated wave, he said “ciao!” and made a speedy getaway

whether it was because of the awkward conversation she just had or because of the fact that dimitri made his way to stand much too close to her, she couldn’t get the heat off of her face

“that was odd,” he said. “though to be fair, he’s always weird”

“quite,” she mumbled

he sent her a sheepish look. “i’ll apologize on his behalf”

“it’s not you who should be sorry. you don’t even know what you’re saying it for”

“yes, but it’s for the discomfort you felt. it’s not something i enjoy seeing on your face”

why was he so nice? claude’s words repeated over and over and over again

“thank you then.” she tried to keep her voice even. “i appreciate it”

he returned it with a soft smile. “it was the least i could do for you,” he told her, voice no louder than a murmur, and all she could do was curl her toes. “well, i best be going. i won’t be able to win against you if i idle around, yes?”

you don’t have to, she wanted to say. you could stay here with me

instead, she nodded. “of course.” and in spite of herself: “do try your best, dimitri, but i’m afraid the future is already set in stone”

it was playful, a rarity from her, and his eyes widened for a moment before he laughed. “then i suppose i’m unfortunate enough to attempt defying the fates.” he bowed, low, with only the deepest of respect in his stance. “until then, my lady”

when he left, her mind raced through all that had been said and done

from the moment she had laid eyes on him

to her growing fondness

to her housemate’s hints and claude’s words

to now, heart beating wildly against her chest

she couldn’t deny it any longer

she liked him

and for the first time in her life, within the quiet walls of a room she had all to herself

away from the eyes

away from the judgments

away from the adrestian throne

she let herself grin silly

a/n: dimitri is unknowingly smooth. but for everyone’s sake, do not tell him how smooth he is. because once you do, he becomes way too self-conscious about it and turns into a bumbling mess

[asks are open!]

#fire emblem three houses #fe16 #fe3h #edelgard von hresvelg #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #black eagles #claude von riegan #headcanons #asks #anon #prerelease

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boomboombitches-blog1 · 6 years ago

Text

Now or Never

Pairing: Vernon x Reader

Genre: Smut, angst, a lil fluff

Warnings: Jealousy, arguing, cursing, sex and bad writing

Word count: 7746

A/n: hi i’ve had no sleep in over 24 hours so if theres any details in there or anything that i messed up plz tell me and i’ll fix it asap forgive me its bad (also if youre wondering why the title has no relevance that would be because i’m shit at titling things and im listening ti Now or Never by sf9 rn)

There were a lot of things that you didn't know about your boyfriend. In all the cliches, someone could read their lover just by looking in their eyes, scanning their face. They knew their thoughts, their feelings- everything- just by glancing at their face. But, it was never like that with Vernon. It wasn't that you were bad at reading people- far from it. You were great at reading people, truly, it was just that he didn't show emotion. More often than not, his face was completely blank- confused looking, even. It wasn't that he was an emotionless monster, just that he was used to not showing how he felt. It was as if he had two feelings- excited and confused. He smiled, laughed exaggeratedly when he thought something was funny- sometimes even made a funny face when he thought something was strange, but aside from that, there was nothing. Though, as you danced with Jeonghan at a company party, hips swaying playfully and your hands in his, you could feel a gaze- one you easily recognized to be that of your boyfriend- burning a hole in the back of your head.

You glanced around, slightly concerned for him, but when your eyes met through the crowd, his face was emotionless, as usual. There were no visual cues to tell you something was off, so you gave him a small smile before turning back around. You didn't see it, but he didn't smile back.

He had left you alone an hour or so earlier to participate in a music conversation that you knew nothing about with Jihoon and Seungcheol, and you were an independent woman- you could find something to entertain yourself with without his help. And you did. You and Jeonghan had been talking, laughing, and dancing for almost the entire time- you'd run into him shortly after escaping the corner, and you already knew each other well, as he was probably the one of Hansol's bandmates that you were closest to, so it was easy and not awkward to move to the dance floor together.

You were goofing off, holding each others hands and spinning around, pulling each other closer and pushing each other away, just messing around and laughing.

Truthfully, after awhile, you kind of forgot about Hansol, you were having too much fun with Jeonghan and you figured that he would've found something else to do. You weren't paying attention to your surroundings, instead just enjoying your time with Jeonghan, since you didn't really get much time between work and schooling and their idol lives to spend with anyone other than Hansol, when he came home late at night after practice.

Eventually, of course, it was almost midnight and your feet were aching in your heels, so you decided it was time to leave. You looked around for Hansol, but pouted when you didn't see him. You shouldn't, since it was supposed to be professional, a company celebration for a company you didn't even work at- but you couldn't help it as you bent down to pull your heels off in an attempt to restore blood flow to your feet, wincing as you did so.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, crouching down in front of you.

"Hop on." He rolled his eyes. "I'll find your boyfriend and carry you to your car. You can't walk barefoot."

With a sigh, you mumbled a thanks and wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, letting him hold you up under the thighs as you rest your head on your own arm in the crook of his neck. His body was lean, strong, even if he didn't look to have much muscle, he certainly had enough to carry you around, and you could feel it beneath you.

You stayed quiet, eyes closed sleepily as he carried you around the room in search of your boyfriend. Your dress, long and loose, was tight around your thighs at the way he was holding you, but you paid it no mind, so long as it didn't come up. It was a few minutes of wandering- you were sure he had to have circled the whole room by then- before you felt him perk up, and his speed increase determinedly. "Hansol!" He called, and you felt that same blank stare gaze into you, but from further away.

Soon enough, Jeonghan came to a stop, but by that time you were already asleep.

"Are you ready to go home? (Y/n) is tired, i think her heels were hurting her feet-"

"They were." Hansol interrupted, though his voice sounded calm, normal.

He wasn’t looking at that point, but he could practically hear Jeonghan furrow his eyebrows in confusion, cocking his head to the side. "Why didn't you tell her to change them, then? Whatever, it doesn't matter now. I'm gonna head out too, so if you want to stay longer i can drop her off at your house." He offers, shifting to hold you up better.

Hansol's eyes flickered down to Jeonghan's hands beneath your thighs, and he felt a pang in his chest. He wanted to grab you, pull you to his chest and assert his dominance over Jeonghan- but that was disrespectful to his hyung, and you weren't some object he could claim. He didn't want to be some jealous asshole- he had never felt jealous like this before and truthfully he had no idea how to handle it- but at the same time the last thing he wanted was to let Jeonghan take you home- to sit back and watch you fall for him instead- and so he stepped forward, opening his arms in an offer to take you.

"No, i've been waiting on her to leave anyways."

Jeonghan hums, carefully deflecting Hansol's attempt to take you. "Don't worry," He smiles kindly, holding you up with only one hand as he reaches up to ruffle the younger's hair with his other before dropping it back down to hold you up. "I've already got her and i'm going that way anyways, it's just extra hassle to switch now. Besides, i think she fell asleep."

Hansol didn't argue further. But as your fingers finally finished loosening around the straps of your heels and they fell to the floor, he knew Jeonghan was right and bent down to grab them. "We should go then." He mumbled, scowling at the floor for a moment before he got back up and followed Jeonghan out of the building.

The walk to the car was silent, Hansol eventually slipping in front of Jeonghan to lead him through the parking lot, straight to your car. If you were awake, you would've been proud of him for finding it so quickly. He himself was quite impressed, but he was slightly more concerned with Jeonghan's hands practically on your ass than how quickly he found the car, so rather than pausing to congratulate himself, he quickly unlocked the car and opened the passenger door, helping his elder gently set you down in the seat. As soon as Jeonghan was out of the way, he bent over and placed your heels on the floor by your feet, fixing your dress carefully.

You had already begun shifting, Hansol recognized it as you waking up, and so he stalled closing the door a bit, stepping back to give Jeonghan a quick hug in farewell.

"You're a lucky man." Jeonghan hummed into his ear, gently patting Hansol's back. "She dances well."

He meant it playfully, intended no harm, but Hansol couldn't bring himself to take it like that. All he heard was Jeonghan flirting with his girlfriend, and the pictures in his mind- pictures of you playing around with him- looked like you flirting right back. He bit his lip.

Hansol was a pacifist. He didn't lose his temper, never argued, and certainly never laid a hand on anyone- but god if he didn't want to shove Jeonghan. Usually, he wouldn't take anything from it, he wouldn't mind you playing around with Jeonghan or anyone, but his own silent insecurities had been picking at him recently, and you looked so pretty beside Jeonghan. He remembered clearly at the beginning of your relationship when you had only just been seen out with the boys but it wasn't revealed that you were dating anyone- and of course it was Jeonghan everyone thought you were with. Jeonghan was beautiful, almost as beautiful as you- and Hansol just wasn't in your league. Everyone knew it. Hansol didn't get insecure very often, he trusted in himself and liked himself enough to ignore any possible insecurities- but you were the one he would never be able to push to the side.

"Yeah..." Hansol replied politely. "I am."

Jeonghan pulled back first, ruffling Hansol's hair once more before he waved goodbye and headed off to find his own car. When Hansol turned to close your door, you were awake- straightened in your seat and sleepily rubbing your eyes.

"Did I fall asleep?" You wondered out loud.

Yeah, Hansol thought silently. On Jeonghan.

He closed your door without a reply.

You jumped in surprise, turning to eye the door and watching as he walks around the car, eyeing him confusedly. There was really nothing in particular that he was doing to show that he was frustrated, you could tell something was off. Though you would've expected him to say something before he closed the door, there were times he had done the same before, and he wasn't frustrated at all. You just decided to accuse the way he seemed to speed walk around the car, the way his fists looked to be a bit more clenched than usual- even if that wasn't really something you could judge just from a glance.

It was almost as if you could hear his footsteps- stomps on the pavement, feel them shake the car. You couldn't, of course, he wasn't Godzilla- but something in you feels like he wishes he was- the vibe he's giving off seems about as destructive.

The car did, truly, shake when he pulled the door opened, dropped down into his seat (looking calmer than he seemed) and closed it back.

"Buckle your seatbelt." He mumbled, buckling his own as he spoke. He could feel your eyes on him- he knew you could tell something was off. After he had clicked his seatbelt into place, and you were still, slowly, moving your hands towards the lock though your eyes followed him, he glanced up and met your gaze, raising an eyebrow and reaching over to click it in for you.

He seemed... Normal. Too normal. He was acting completely as he always did, when he seemed so off earlier- but you didn’t know what it was. Maybe you were crazy? Or maybe it was being so tired, your feet burning where you'd overworked them, that distracted you from seeing that he was completely fine.

You looked away.

Clearly, he was fine- he gave you no true reason to second-guess that, so was it really right of you to question him? You paused, staring out the windshield as he backed out of the parking lot, and your thoughts gathered in your mind. Was it within your rights to wonder if he was okay, when you felt like he wasn't? As his girlfriend of two years, friend of one and a half- the person he practically lived with, the person he loved and the person who loved him? Yes.

He was entirely focused on the road when you turned back around, though there were no cars and the liveliest thing on the street was a flickering streetlamp a few feet away. He was tense- fingers practically drained of all color from how tight they gripped the steering wheel, and his chest was puffed- back straighter than usual. The radio was off for once, you assumed he had turned it of as he started the car up but you weren't paying attention- you were too lost in your thoughts.

"What's wrong?" You asked, voice soft enough to not frighten him as it tore through the silence, but loud enough for him to hear, to recognize, and to reply to.

Unfortunately for you, he didn't seem to be much in the mood to reply, as he remained silent instead and simply shifted a bit in his chair, eyes wandering the signs and road around him almost calmly. He bore a strange resemblance to a statue- it seemed like the only parts of him moving were his eyes and his hands on the wheel- but his eyes didn't seem to want to land on you.

"Sol." You said, voice a bit more demanding than you intended, though he could tell you were only worried. "What's wrong, Hansol? i don't understand."

He bit his lip- on the side that you couldn't see- though mentally he was biting his tongue. You did nothing wrong, he has no reason nor right to start an argument with you. He knows that, only he can't bring himself to try and assure you he's fine for fear that he'll snap as soon as he opens his mouth. God- he's usually so much calmer- so much better at controlling his emotions. He rarely even got angry in the first place, but when he did it wasn't something he couldn't handle. The thought crossed his mind over and over, surrounded by 'why's and a mental road map back to your apartment, where he usually stayed.

Maybe he should drop you off and head back to the dorm for the night- get good rest and cool off. Let his insecurities simmer down before they cause problems. More problems.

"Why are you ignoring me?" You frowned, furrowing your eyebrows in frustration. "Did i do something wrong?" You were getting angry. It wasn't like him to ignore you. It wasn't like him to get angry in the first place- but when he did it wasn't something he would avoid- he would try and talk it out with you before it turned into an actual argument- and it worked. You had only gotten in one argument your whole relationship and even still it wasn't bad enough to damage your relatiohship. "Stop it Hansol, you're not making fucking anything better by not saying anything!"

Still, he didn't reply. His blood was boiling- he really didn't want to hear anything, he didn't want to talk or explain or even acknowledge his anger until he got home, drank some water, and let you calm down. Both of you were tired- he knew well that you had a tendency to lose your temper much quicker when you were tired, and he did, too. You didn't know that about him, though, and you didn't need to. He despised arguing with everything he had in him- but when you hissed an insult at him in your frustration- figuring he was too busy ignoring you to hear it anyways, he didn't give you a moment to regret it before he barked, "Would you fucking shut up already?"

You jumped in your seat, eyes widening in surprise. It wasn't like him to shout- or lose his temper in general, especially not so fast- but he didn't give you any more time to think on it before slamming the brakes on in your apartment's parking lot, grabbing the keys, and storming away. There was no way you were going to let him have the last word- not when that was his choice of what to say. You probably broke a fingernail- and definitely forgot your shoes in your haste to unbuckle yourself and get out of the car. The door slammed behind you and the rough, cold concrete stung your already aching feet as you chased after him, long dress held up in your hands to keep you from tripping over it.

"Hansol!" You shouted. "Don't you fucking dare-" A door slammed. Your apartment door. He was already back to ignoring you. The neighbors were the last thing on your mind when you finally got up the stairs to your apartment, opening your door just to slam it back behind you. You immediately found him standing in your kitchen, back to the door as he chugged down a bottle of water, back clearly tense. "How dare you run off and leave me in the car! I was talking to you-"

"No, you were shouting at me." He cut you off, voice biting with poison laced through each syllable spit from the tip of his tongue. This time, you were prepared- didn't let the sting get to you.

"And how else was i going to get you to listen, your highness? I was trying to help you and you wouldn't even fucking listen to me! I can't solve your problems if you won't tell me what the hell they are!"

Your words sent a chill up Hansol's spine, because he knew you were right. He was rarely one to speak out of anger, but you could feel it coming as he tensed, slamming his cup down on the countertop and whirling around to glare at you.

"You!" He snapped, raising his hand to point his finger at you, stepping closer and closer with every word. "You are my problem!" His eyes were slits, breaths heavy and sooner than you would've liked- he had your back against the wall. He still kept his distance, but it was his glare that had you pinned. You were glaring right back- you didn't feel afraid of him- you were no less capable than him in any way- because any way you might've been was a way he'd never dare to use. You trusted him, even if you were furious at him.

"Then why didn't you tell me that in the first place!" You asked. You were still shouting, it was easy to hear the boiling anger in your voice, but he also heard a little bit of hurt. He was still angry, tired- maybe even still jealous- but he couldn't stand the idea of hurting you. The argument didn't mean that much to him- not this time. His face softened just a bit, and though you could still see the fire in his eyes, you didn't attempt to escape when he moved even closer, the same hand which he had raised in a threatening point falling open to cup your hot cheek.

You were chest to chest now, eyes closing as you started to melt into his touch.

"You can't just walk over here and hold me and expect me to not be angry anymore." You mumbled, feeling his forehead press to yours, free hand falling to your hip.

"I know." He replied, voice lower than usual, softer than yours. "Don't think i'm not mad anymore, either."

With that, his head ducked a bit lower and his lips pressed to yours, chapped against soft. Your lipstick had long since faded, but your chapstick still tasted like cherries and he sighed against your mouth. The second your lips moved against his, both of you knew where it was going, and neither of you minded. His head turned to the side, deepening the kiss as his tongue slipped past your lips and swirled with yours. You could feel his anger in passion, lips gentle but tongue rough and grip tight on your waist, and it wasn't long before he had stepped back, both hands settling on your hips to pull you off the wall with him. He stayed there for a moment, holding you up and continuing to kiss you slowly, deeply, as one of his hands migrated to his own waist to interlock his fingers with yours. Finally, his lips disconnected from yours. He didn't pull away just yet, once more pressing his swollen lips to yours to break the string of your mixed saliva still connecting you.

The thumb of his free hand came up as he pulled back, forehead still pressed to yours, and he swiped your bottom lip gently to clean it off. Your eyes connected in a mutual agreement.

He pulled away fully, the only thing still connecting you being your interlocked hands, and your eyes followed his wet thumb as he dropped it to wipe it on his pants, body turning to lead you back towards the bedroom.

The air held an impossible mix of anger, relaxation, and tension- but there was a silent promise that everything would unravel- the both of you would be fine. You would exert all your energy- all your anger in a way that was less mutually harmful and at least for tonight, you could be okay.

Your apartment wasn't big, and therefore it was hardly long until you were in your bedroom, your boyfriend practically shoving you down on your bed. Your mattress bounced under your weight, and again when he climbed on top of you, knees on either side of your hips. He wasted no time in connecting your lips, fingers tracing up and down your sides unconsciously as he kissed you, his thoughts and feelings relaying in his embrace.

Your hands wound around his back, gently pulling his shirt up to the base of his neck. He didn't hesitate to sit up, arms folding above his head to tug his shirt off and toss it on the floor behind him. Only then did he sit back at take a moment to truly look at you. Your hair was splayed out behind you, dress tighter to your body than it had been all night- eyes wide and blown with a mixture of too many different emotions for him to calculate when he was still confused over his own. You were beautiful- too beautiful for him by a long shot.

You gazed up at him with the same love, watching as his long hair fell in his eyes and he flicked his head to try and move it so that he could see you better. You smiled a bit, grabbing his wrists and carefully pulling him down on top of you again, to which he, in turn, smiled.

You shared a silent agreement as you met each other's eyes. Past this point, no more anger. Not tonight. It was mutual- you could read it from his eyes and he, yours, and no more words had to be spoken before his lips were locked with yours again. Your fingers tangled in his hair and he hummed, voice like a song through the silence and you missed it as soon as the echo faded.

There was no need to move quickly, normally you would have gotten a bit impatient, but after a fight so severe compared to the rest of your- still rare- playful bickering- the both of you felt the need to go a bit slower, at least for now, and spend more time being close and loving than as mindless and fast paced as you might've usually been in a situation like this.

You could taste your own cherry chapstick on your lips, as by now any remnants of it were long past stolen by him, and you could feel his hands slipping behind your back, raising you slightly off the bed as he fondled the zipper of your dress, almost like asking for permission. In reply, you arched your back off the bed to let him slowly drag the zipper down, lips still massaging your own. His hair was tickling your face now, instead of his own, but you didn't mind, simply twirling the long, soft strands around your fingers rather than trying to push it out of your face, because you knew it would just fall back anyways.

His elbows settled on the bed, wrists bending awkwardly as he tugs the straps down, letting the fabric brush the skin of your arms before he finally pulls back a bit, thighs holding himself up rather than his elbows as he wiggled the dress off of you- somehow never disconnecting your lips in the process. The air hit your skin like a wave of cold water, rolling up the sand as the tide comes in, and you gasped against his mouth. It wasn't hard to recognize the slight tug of his lips as a smirk, and you felt his warm hands trail down your bare, cold skin.

By now, your dress was tugged down to your waist, a bare black bra the only thing to cover any part of your torso, and his lips broke away from yours, soft and wet as they trailed down your jaw, then down your neck. He left a warm trail of gentle, but somewhat sloppy kisses down the side of your neck before stopping to nip at your collarbone for a few moments. His breath was warm, you could feel it roll over your skin every time he exhaled, and it made you shudder, your hands travelling down from his hair to gently rub over his back and shoulders, fingertips digging into his skin, massaging his tense muscles wherever you can. You can feel him hum against your skin in appreciation, his lips slowly dragging down further, hands sliding back up to unclip your bra. Once more, you arched your back to give him better access, which in turn shoved your boobs into his face- to which he raised his eyebrows and let his lips pull back into an amused, smirk-like grin.

He smoothly unclasped your bra and dropped his head back down, nipping at the insides of your breasts and smiling to himself as your whole body goes rigid, then un-tenses at the movements of his mouth on your sensitive skin. His big hands remain splayed across your back- holding it up and holding you closer to him as his mouth continues to travel- to explore the softest part of your body.

His hands start to move- just to rub back and forth across your back as the tip of his tongue drags a wet line up to your nipple, and then pulls his tongue back to press a barely-there kiss to the very tip of your bud. You sucked in a breath, a high-pitched whine fighting to escape from the back of your throat as he teases you. Amused, he chuckles to himself. His eyes follow your expressions as you bite your lip, closing your eyes in a futile attempt to hide the lust-blown pupils that he had already seen. Maybe at some time, he would've been compelled to tease you. To pin you down, tie you up, make you beg for what you wanted- but right there, in that moment, he was only there to please you, and he didn't want you to beg. He didn't want you to do anything but lay there and let him worship you, for that was his apology and the least that you deserved after the things he had said, even just the things he had thought.

Luckily for him, taking his time and making you feel good just so happened to be something he very much enjoyed.

His lips wrapped around your pert nipple, gently sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud. He watched your face contort in pleasure, your hands habitually entangling in his hair once more. It was different with him than it was with everyone else. You knew it sounded cheesy even in your head, but your love for him was so intense that the smallest touch felt like heaven- especially when the heat of the night already had you anticipating his touch. Your reactions, he noted, were amusingly similar to your first time. As the trails of saliva he left quickly chilled and dried against your skin, you squirmed almost in discomfort at the sensation. His lips unlocked from around your nipple, and he smirked to himself as he repeated the first motions, dragging his tongue back down through the valley of your breasts and up before circling your nipple. Once again, he pulled back, watching in amusement as the wetness chilled on your skin and you, once again, squirmed and winced. He pressed another short, soft kiss before he locked his lips around you and sucked, almost harshly. You felt one of his hands immediately pull back from around you, the other centering to hold you up as the first kneads your breast generously.

A wave of heat rolls through your core, and this time you do whimper a bit, loosening your grip on his hair to gently, playfully smack the back of his head for surprising you. He chuckled against you, which made you hit him again, which ended with his teeth nipping at your skin in retaliation. You hissed at him, and he kindly released your bud from his harsh mouth. "Done with that?"

"Done with that." You confirmed. He chuckled to himself, slipping his arms from around (and on you, though a bit busy squeezing and playing with your breasts) to push himself up and lean over, pecking your lips softly in apology.

"Do you want me to eat you out?"

You smacked him again, this time just on the shoulder, and he laughed softly, eyes lighting up into crescents and his grin tugged up more to one side- almost smug. He could tell you were embarrassed just by your short reaction, but he didn't really care. He found it cute.

"Can i just fuck you then?"

For the third time, a smack.

With a laugh, he dropped his face into the crook of your neck, letting his nose brush your skin. "I'm taking that as a yes, since we've already fucked whatever mood we might've had anyways."

You didn't argue. Not even a playful smack was received by him- but you wanted to as you were decently certain that your cheeks were hot enough to replace a radiator in the winter as he quickly began to pepper hot, wet kisses back down your body at a pace almost too quick for you to keep up. His fingers curled into the waist of your dress where it was folded over, and he immediately started to wriggle it down, careless to the fact that your hips were still resting on the bed. Even with that, though, he managed to drag it down your legs rather quickly, to which you shivered softly as the air from your fan hit where the fabric had been protecting just seconds earlier. You were feeling increasingly submissive under his gaze, but you still couldn't help but raise your leg as soon as he gave you an opportunity and brushed the clear bulge in his neat work pants with your knee, to which he flinched back and stuttered in the movements of his hands. You smirked, though that hardly lasted long as he quickly retaliated with a quick press on your clit. Your eyes clenched shut, body twitching in surprise as your nerves were shocked with the warmth of his thumb. When you relaxed, you did so with a subtle roll of your eyes that certainly didn't go unnoticed to your lover, though he didn't do or say anything in reply, instead shifting to stand off of the bed and begin to un-button his pants, though that hardly lasted long before you were sitting on the edge of the bed, shooing his hands away with your own and swiftly unbuttoning (and unzipping them) before he had time to even raise his eyebrows in surprise.

It wasn't even a full minute before you had his black, unwrinkled pants at his feet, ready for him to step out of as you somewhat-eagerly eyed his odd yellow and black plaid underwear- less excited for the look of them and more for what lay underneath. Well, stood underneath.

As if on cue, in silent accordance to your thoughts, he stepped out of his pants, kicking them out of the way as he shifted to stand above you and play gently with the ends of your hair. You could tell he was waiting on you, silently observing how you reacted when handed the lead to see if you really wanted him, or were just going along with it. He always did that- but while usually you would pull him down into a deep kiss, this time you wanted to go further. To surprise him and silently, but sincerely, apologize for the harsh things you said, so instead of the usual, you reached up, grabbing his hips where his boxers hung lowly and glanced up at him for permission, just at case. Though not without his signature judgmental eyebrow raise, he nodded.

Immediately your fingers gripped the sides of his boxers, slowly pulling them down his erection and somehow holding eye contact with him at the same time. His member quite literally sprung free from its confines- somewhat more comically than you had expected, the thing stiff and wet with precum as it bounced a bit to steady itself. You almost laughed, but his eyes were wide as though he hadn't truly been expecting you to do what you had implied. You had sucked him off before, of course, after two years of dating you had given him head plenty of times. You quite enjoyed it, too, but it was less of a foreplay deal and more of a way to quickly get him off when he was hard late at night after (and rarely but occasionally during) work, or early in the morning before he had to go in. Sometimes on a lazy day or a movie night you would, if he needed it, but never had your mouth been on his dick prior to sex.

Your hand wrapped around it, experimentally jerking a time or two before you decided he just didn't seem to be lubricated enough. Your eyes darted from his deep amber pools down to his flushed member to quickly guide the tip into your mouth, wasting no time in circling your tongue around his head. He moaned softly in appreciation, stroking your hair calmly, reassuringly. It was admittedly a bit hard for him to keep control of himself- he had been fully hard and throbbing with need for longer than he wanted to, and the feeling of your hot, wet lips encasing him and the subtle amusement in your eyes as you glanced back up at him had him a bit overwhelmed. His hips were practically begging to snap into your mouth, to make you take him as deeply and fully as he could but he restrained the need by tugging on your hair softly, helping you bob your head on him- though he was quite surprised when you went back down, once more grabbing your hips to steady him as you took him a little further, bobbed back up, dropped back down and extended it a little further until you were at your limit.

"Mm, fuck you're hot." He praised, eyes closed as he attempted to fully take in and understand the feeling of your mouth around him. He did it every time, closed his eyes and engrained the feeling into his mind, but somehow he never remembered exactly how good you felt until your lips were around him, sucking the life out of him once more.

Your mouth felt terribly full- but for some reason you enjoyed it- way more than you should have. Sadly it didn't last long, because soon he was breathing heavily (much worse than before), and tugging on your hair to signal you to pull off. "That's e-enough." He hissed, blushing red at his stutter, though surely the fact that he was close to cumming just from you bobbing your head and sucking a little bit to lubricate him up had his face a bit red in embarrassment (and pleasure) as well.

Without only a short moment of hesitation, you obeyed, letting his cock free of your mouth in a loud pop, and he snapped. His fingers were immediately hooked in your panties, not dragging but tearing them off your legs in a haste to be inside of you as his dark eyes once more stared lustfully into yours.

You squirmed, using your elbows to push yourself further up the bed and ready yourself for him, leaning over to grab a condom from the drawer he so kindly kept stocked for situations such as this, where neither of you would have the patience to run and find one. Truthfully, you figured he had hidden them all over your apartment as he always seemed suspiciously prepared, but as the foil crinkled beneath your fingertips, you couldn't find it in you to care where the others were- you just wanted this one on him and in you. You carefully pried it open (attempting not to rip the condom with the packet as that had been something you had seen Hansol do by accident a few too many times to be normal) and as soon as you could, you tossed it over to him where he was waiting, hand open and prepared to catch, at the end of the bed where you just were. The both of you smiled, maybe from satisfaction or maybe just from how silly the situation at hand seemed to be, but it was comforting nonetheless to see him mimic your expression.

The way he crawled up the bed to part and rest between your legs wasn't particularly sensual or dramatic, in fact it was somewhat more like a bounce, but it still turned you on to no end. Everything about him did. Your heart fluttered, though, when he looked into your eyes and cupped your cheek with one hand, the other resting, warm and comforting, on your waist. "Do you want me to prep you or just go for it? We kinda forgo-"

"Dude, just go." You scolded playfully, giving his shoulder another disapproving but short and light smack before you tangled your fingers in his hair. His hair was like a safety net for you, the thing you felt most comfortable clinging to when you lost control- which you pretty much already had as his length ran teasingly over your clit. A strangled hum of approval sounded in the air between your bodies, and he took it as a beg for him to continue, so he began to push into you, trying to hold his body as even as possible. Who was he to say no when you were begging? It didn't particularly hurt, you had been with him enough to be somewhat used to his size, but a bit of the stretch was still there, and you squirmed a bit. He didn't stop though, instead continuing to push into you until his hips were pressed flat against yours, and your squirming in a (rather unnecessary) attempt to stretch yourself a bit more, get you more comfortable with him in you ended only with a high pitched, breathy whimper as the head of his cock rubbed against your g-spot.

He chuckled breathily, bending to kiss over your neck and gently nip at the skin, marking you as his with a deep bruise just in the crook of your neck, where he was sure you could hide it if you tried long enough. You moaned softly, finally starting to roll your hips upwards, somehow taking him deeper and deeper until he finally grabbed one of your legs and wrapped it around his waist, giving him the perfect angle to grind down against you, feeling your wetness spread across his skin as he bottomed out in you, shuddering himself at the intense feeling.

"Move, Hansol." You begged quietly- to which he didn't hesitate. His hips rolled, slowly at first, just a soft, experimental roll of his bare hips against yours before he gradually started pulling back more and more, each thrust getting harsher and harsher as he started to get the hang of it again. His face scrunched in focus, mind clearly plagued by something as his pace picked up. You hissed out a curse through your teeth, wondering how this could feel so damn good when this wasn't even half of the speed he could really go at. He was still working up, slowly but surely, and you wound your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

His hips were like magic, so you squeezed your legs around his waist to tell him to just keep going at the pace he was. It certainly wasn't slow, nor was it fast enough to take too much out of either of you either, and for tonight it was perfect. He hummed, giving a particularly sharp thrust in acknowledgement before he raised his head, pressing his lips softly to yours. Your lips danced, jolts of red hot pleasure shooting up and down your body every time his hips thrust into you, and both of you were in heaven. Your fingers unconsciously tightened, tugging his hair to which he groaned softly- not in pain, as he really never got hurt from you pulling his hair(though you didn't know how)- but in pleasure at the sensation on top of how wet and tight you were around him, your walls clenching and unclenching as he moved in and out of you. He was already close and he knew you could tell as your arms tightened around him, pulling him closer and somehow deepening the firey kiss you were already locked in by one another, mesmerized by how well you fit together.

The room echoed vulgar sounds of squelching as he thrust furiously in and out of you, pace picking up and further to draw out the both of your pleasure, skin on skin and the headboard banging against the wall and groans and whines and the pop of your lips every time you pulled back for a second to breath. Somehow though, he focused on the feel of your raging heartbeat against the bare skin of his chest and how fast your breaths came and went and how your fists clenched and unclenched in his unruly hair; just like how you focused on his one hand still gripping your hip for stability and control as the other roamed your body like rain, fingers trailing over your skin everywhere and everywhere else- not missing a single spot on your hot, sticky form as he mapped you out for his memory to recall when he was all alone, in desperate need of you but you were too far from his reach. He didn't even want to think of that- so luck was in his favor when his mind blanked, a long groan drawing from him as he released inside of the condom. As soon as he felt the rush of pleasure overcome him, his free hand chased your clit, circling and circling in time with his cum spilling out, hot and heavy in the condom and all of that combined with him still thrusting, perhaps even harsher through his high, prompted you to cum right after him with a gasp and cute, mindlessly repeated mumbles of his name under your shaky breath. You pulled him closer, quivering slightly at the sensation, and as he had come down faster than you and before you, he calmly pressed kisses to your sweaty forehead, and cheeks, and nose, your temples, your eyelids, jaw, chin, everywhere, eyes open and watching as your deep red, swollen lips quiver, before he finally presses one final soft kiss to them.

It felt like so much longer for you to physically calm yourself back to normal than it felt for him to watch you do so. You were beautiful, glowing and slightly pouty and your skin was perfect and your shining eyes were closed so you couldn't tell him to stop or get embarrassed. You just lay there, peaceful and calm as your body came down from the overwhelming pleasure he had just inflicted upon you, and he could watch you like that forever. The sight of you like that made any fighting- anything worth it because even though he hated to argue, it allowed him to see you like this once more.

He carefully pulled out, taking care to rub your lower belly softly in reassurance as you shuddered at the loss of him, and quickly discarded of the condom before climbing back in bed, arms outstretched to take you in and carry you to the bath. You deserved it, anyways- but you flinched away, shaking your head when he tried to help you up.

"I'm tired, sol, can we shower in the morning?" You asked, voice a bit gruffer but also somehow softer, lighter pitched and your words were sleepy and innocent as you spoke, so he had no other choice but to give into you.

He sighed softly. "Yeah, of course. Whatever you want baby. I'm gonna clean you up a little bit with some tissues, just rest." He informed you, and as promised, you could hear the tissue box rustle, the noise of the tissues coming out and when he had pulled out a number somewhere around 6, you finally felt him climb on the bed again, wiping you down with them as if you were glass, and something fluttered in your chest knowing just how much he actually cared about you.

You felt the bed shift under his weight- or the lack thereof- as he stood back up, tossing the tissues in the trash can, and turned back to lift the corner of the blanket. Finally, you opened your eyes. There was love and admiration and he could read you like a book, everything you were thinking and feeling he could tell from that one look as you rolled over onto your hands and knees to crawl under the blanket. It didn't take any prompting from you to get him in beside you, arms warm and gentle around you. It was silent- a lot more silent than it had been any other time you lay, cuddling your boyfriend after he had practically fucked your brains out of you just minutes earlier. Usually he would talk, hum, turn on music- anything to break the silence because he never wanted you to feel that silence. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, and you finally gave in. You were terrified- more than you should have been to ask him what he was thinking about, what was bothering him- but after the argument earlier you had a reason to be nervous, and he would just have to say it, outright. LIke every couple is cute.

"What's bothering you?" You asked, words quiet an hesitant and maybe even shaky, but didn't recieve any reply- not for a moment or two.

Eventually, he sighed, pressing a soft kiss to your head. "I was jealous." He admitted, cheeks flushing in embarrassment, but you only chuckle to yourself and cuddle closer. All that because he didn’t want to see you dance with Jeonghan? All he had to do was tell you he was uncomfortable, but no. Of course not.

#Vernon #Hansol Vernon Chwe #Seventeen #Vernon scenarios #Scenarios #Vernon Drabbles #i #Vernon imagines #Seventeen Scenarios #Vernon Smut #Vernon Fluff #Vernon angst #Seventeen Smut #hope i tagged all this shit right idk man

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beihonglin · 7 years ago

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binbin & bangbang’s 18/4 livestream: a summary 3/3

second segment: quickfire questions!!

first impressions of each other

the first people they met was each other!!! they sat with huang shuhao :’)

they got shookt when they got their room assignments after

who likes to eat snacks the most?

pointing at each other

stupid boy dropping his mic pt. 034 BIN STOP DROPPING IT

what do you buy to eat from the convenience store?

LEMON TEA!! bangbang was the one who got bin addicted to lemon tea

recently they found another lemon tea that’s better than vita

rip bin’s fansite miss vitalemontea

bangbang: HE EATS SO MUCH

bin: I DO I EAT SO MUCH

apparently binnie gets ramen, rice balls, more ramen, fries, more ramen and pudding then finishes them all in one night

bangbang: but he doESNT GET FAT (angry!!)

bin: yeah after i realised that i wouldn’t get fat no matter what i ate i started just eating everything

bangbang: I HOPE YOU GET FAT WHEN YOU’RE 40

bin: pls calm down asjhlkdj

bangbang: wait omg what if there’s a pill that lets you eat without getting fat,,,,

interviewer: uh moving on

who sleeps later? who takes care of their body better?

bangbang: we sleep at the same time but jeffrey sleeps the earliest and he takes care of his body the best

bin: oh right bb has ur body clock adjusted back?

bb: what body clock lol

apparently they sleep really late and wake up really early to the point where they look at the clock and think 3am is still pretty early

there was also once when they slept at 630 and had to get up at 7 :(

whose rooms did you visit the most?

bin: we didn’t really go to other people’s rooms, they came to ours,,, yeah, our room was the most popular - there were times when there were 10+ people hanging out in our room

interviewer: why?

bin: because we have a lot of food lol

bangbang: also because we’re very,,,,,, kind :)

bin: :)))

bb: :))))))

interviewer: can you expose something about each other?

bin: bursts out laughing

bin: BANGBANG SHOWERS FOR A REALLY LONG TIME

bb: YOU TOO

interviewer: okay but were there any awkward incidents?

bin: bangbang dances really funnily and cutely and he always comes back to dance for us

bangbang: nO I DON’T

bin: he doES do it, do the cute version of ei ei that you did

bangbang: what cuTE VERSION NO :(

interviewer: okay so do you guys compete at games?

bin: snorts

literally the cutest snort i’ve ever heard in my life bye

bin: coME ON TELL THEM

bb (mumbling): okay i thought i was really good at this game and ruibin didn’t believe me so i challenged him but somehow every time i challenged him he won :(

binnie: i’d be sitting there after practice when i’d get a text from him saying, “hey trash, come challenge me-”

bb: i didnt say trash-

binnie: - and i said, i really don’t want to make you lose, but then he said it was because i didn’t want to lose to him that i didn’t want to play,,, so i played with him

bin: and every time i was close to winning he’d scream at his phone, “NO!!” so i’d let him win for a bit before i killed him in three seconds

bb: NO i thought i was better so i kept challenging him and i got angry when i lost but in the end i realised he was right,,,,

bin: he got angry at me too!! he refused to speak to me after he lost, he said he’d never play with me again

bb: wait ur making me sound like a kid

bin: ye u r lol

what’s your most used meme?

bin: uncle li junyi’s crossed arms pose!!

bb: bu fan’s half beast!!

bin: dong yanlei’s “your lei-zi has appeared!”!

bb: deng langyi’s sad face!

what are your future plans?

bangbang: we’re gonna go to shanghai tgt! we’re gonna stay tgt to carry out some activities

binnie: i’m also acting in an upcoming show! i want to become a well-rounded artist

bin: also lol in the dorm bangbang made me act with him

#ExposeBangBangPart????

if you guys act tgt in a show, what kind of show would u want?

bangbang: us as villians!!!!

bin: (sighs)

bangbang: who go around stealing monuments!!

bin: wait but what about spies!!! and there’d be a hacker and we’d have a swimming scene

bangbang: i’d want to have a hacker -

bin: and i’d be the one who gets to save the female lead, really handsome -

bangbang: i’d be the one who climbs the wall -

bin: - and i’d go down a zip line -

i swear they’re 8???

interviewer: uh yall have great imagination

final words??

bangbang: thank u 2 those who have liked me, thank u for ur support and love

binnie spinning his fingers in a circle asmdhdlaksj let bangbang live pls

bb: NO it’s bc i have a lot of things to say

bin: no he’s like a pinball his mind is just running everywhere

but also binnie: thank u bangbang for being by my side and for making this interview so fun, it still feels like we’re on the show and bangbang and i were just conversing! i don’t feel like a celeb; i feel like i’m still a normal person, but i have a lot of people supporting my dream. thank you to all those who voted for me so that i had more chances to stand on stage. the only reason why i’m here now is bc of u and ur votes and support; it was only through ur support that we could stay in idol producer for so long. i hope that everyone can still trust in us and believe in us - we’re still growing and we hope that everyone can grow with us and accompany us to walk even further on this road.

i love the most rambly and sincere boy in the universe bye :--(

interviewer: can you sing in cantonese?

both: yah but i need lyrics

DUET !!!

i love binbin singing so much i love himi lvoe him i love him ilvoe him

bin tried stuffing his phone in his pocket but he deadass didnt have a pocket why is he like this

im literally so sorry i know i said summary but this basically became a transcription of whatever they said wheezes

UPDATE RUIBIN’S TRENDING AGAIN :’)

#zheng ruibin #ruibin #idol producer #郑锐彬 #my prince #huayi brothers #偶像练习生 #vivi translates #hu zhibang #zhibang #binbin bangbang #THAT'S THE FINAL ONE :')

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chasholidays · 7 years ago

Note

Hey love your fics im a first time prompt sender, if you can could you carry on Where Everybody Knows Your Name, except with Monty and Miller, I want to see if Monty gets his customer crush too, looking forward to the holiday fics i cant wait thanks x

Original fic here!

“It was Nate, right?”

Monty considers, but he can’t help the smartass retort. It’s his lot in life. “No, Monty. We work together?”

Clarke rolls her eyes, but she’s clearly amused. Possibly in spite of herself, but he’ll take what he can get. “Your customer crush. Nate with the rainbow flag on his bag?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s him. Why?”

“I know him.”

He frowns. “Okay, that’s just unfair. You can’t hog all the hot queer boys. We’re in a recession.”

“Which is why I’m talking to you. He and Bellamy are friends. They hang out. If you came to hang out too, you could actually spend time with him.”

“You have such a weird thing about talking to people you’re romantically interested in. Who does that?”

“People who want to get laid.” She leans back against the counter, watching him shrewdly. He likes Clarke, but she can be kind of intense. “You don’t have to do anything about it. But I figured I should let you know. Hanging out with Miller is a possibility.”

“Miller?”

“Bellamy calls him Miller. That’s why I didn’t make the connection earlier. But we all hung out last night, so—“

“So you slept with a customer and want to enable everyone else to do the same.”

“We’re dating,” she points out. Monty still thinks she might be a witch, honestly. It would explain some things. “All I’m enabling you to do is spend some time with him socially. He’s hosting game night at his place on Saturday night. Bellamy said I could bring friends.”

The entire premise of Monty’s crush is that Nate is attractive and seems to be queer. He’s quiet and polite when he comes in, and usually puts a dollar in the tip jar after he pays. There are no particularly deep feelings involved. He’s eye candy.

But, well.

“Game night?”

“Apparently he’s really into indie board games.”

“Oh my god.”

She smirks, and he’ll give her this one. She deserves to be smug. “So, you’re in, right?” she asks.

“Send me the details, yeah. I think I can make it.”

Monty has a fairly effective strategy for dealing with random crushes: he doesn’t do anything about them and eventually they go away. He likes having a person to idly fantasize about, but actually making a move always seems kind of terrifying. In college, his first and only girlfriend had asked him out, and they’d had a year-long relationship that ended with graduation.

And since then, nothing. Just scattered crushes, the kind with no pressure at all. People who aren’t really real, customers and attractive strangers on the bus. When Clarke was hired, he thought about getting a crush on her, but she was too intimidating, and not really his type.

Plus, after less than a month, she was dating Bellamy, which sort of proved his point. Anyone who went from crush to flirting to relationship with the efficiency she did was not someone he could ever date.

But a quiet guy who’s friends with his coworker and her boyfriend, who has board game nights? That guy’s right up his alley. And it’s a more than a little terrifying.

Clarke agrees to walk over to Nate’s with him, so he won’t be showing up alone. Bellamy isn’t even there, so they don’t have to pretend he’s not nervous about interacting with his semi-crush.

“It’s not a big deal,” Clarke says, which isn’t actually that helpful. He knows it’s not a big deal. She doesn’t need to remind him he’s being irrational.

His expression must give him away, because her face dissolves into a sheepish smile. “Sorry. So it’s going to be us, Bellamy, Miller, their friend Monroe, Raven, and her boyfriend. Apparently they try to do this like once a month.”

“Cool.” He pauses. “Bellamy didn’t think it was weird? That you were bringing me.”

“Nope. That’s part of why I asked Raven,” she adds. “I just said I was bringing my two favorite coworkers.”

“Aww,” he says, grinning. “Thanks.”

“Not a lie.”

“We like you too.” He exhales. “I shouldn’t be nervous, right? This is board games. If I’ve got a thing, this is it.”

“Definitely. Also you like Bellamy and Raven, and Miller is pretty laid back. You have good taste in crushes.”

“Thanks. Did we know Raven had a boyfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, cool, just checking. Should I call Nate Miller? Does everyone call him Miller?”

“I don’t think he’ll mind Nate? He and Bellamy met in high school and there were a couple Nates, so he went by his last name. Either is probably fine.”

“It’s probably good,” he says. “Nate is an idea, Miller is a person. I can get to know the person.”

“That’s the spirit.”

They run into Raven a few blocks out, falling into step with her and her boyfriend, a tall guy with long hair who’s about as intimidating as Raven is, honestly. They’re one of those couples Monty is sure could kick his ass without even noticing they were doing it.

“Hey,” says Raven. “Finally putting your money where your mouth is, Monty?”

“I’ve never understood that saying,” he muses. “Do you have any idea how dirty money is? The last place I want it is where my mouth is.”

Raven smirks. “Don’t be nervous. Me and Clarke are going to talk you up.”

“That actually makes me feel worse, thanks. Is this your boyfriend? Do we get introduced or is he just going to lurk?”

“Yeah, this is Roan. Roan, Monty and Clarke. Clarke’s boyfriend invited us. I slept with him after it turned out Clarke and I were dating the same guy.”

Roan takes this in stride. “I will probably need a diagram. But it’s nice to meet you both. Raven has been educating me on the evolution of board gaming beyond Scrabble and Monopoly, so I’m looking forward to an educational afternoon.”

“Oh wow,” says Monty. “Yeah, you’ve got a lot to look forward to. Did Bellamy tell you what we were playing? If Miller’s understanding of modern board games begins and ends with Settlers of Catan, I don’t think I can be into him anymore.”

“What if board game night is actually just Sorry for three hours?” Clarke asks. “What then?”

“As long as it’s not Monopoly. Then none of us would come out with relationships.”

They talk favorite games until they get there, which lulls Monty into a false sense of security. He can do this. He’s a normal person who has normal conversations.

And then Nate opens the door to the apartment building, and it all kind of falls apart. He usually comes in on his way to work, dressed in slacks and collared shirts, but on his own time he apparently favors tight t-shirts and worn jeans. The t-shirt has the triforce on it, too, just to rub it in. It’s like he stepped right out of one of Monty’s pathetic dork fantasies.

“Hey, coffee shop crew. I’m an asshole who doesn’t actually know any of your names except Clarke. I assume you’re Raven and you’re Monty,” he adds, guessing correctly. “And you must be Raven’s boyfriend, name to be determined.”

“Roan,” he says. “A pleasure.”

“Cool. We haven’t ordered pizza yet, so you guys can get in on arguing about toppings. Come on up.”

Bellamy and Monroe are already upstairs, looking at Nate’s–Miller’s–impressive collection of board games. To Monty’s commingled relief and horror, he’s got great taste in games, some titles he loves, others he’s been hoping to try out, and even some that weren’t on his radar at all but look cool.

“I have a problem,” says Miller, when he catches Monty examining a deluxe edition of Underlings of Underwing. “A kickstarter problem.”

“This is honestly amazing,” he says. “Like–wow. You have the game collection I dream of having.”

“Yeah? What are some of your favorites?”

There’s this zone Monty gets into where he’s nervous, where he can interact normally, have full, coherent conversations, but it feels as if he’s watching himself do it, as if he’s in a video game running through a pre-written script until he hits a decision. He and Miller have a perfectly cordial discussion of games, and Monty’s sure he comes across well.

On the inside, though, he’s basically dying.

It gets better once they settle in for actual gaming. The games are engaging and require him to put thought into them, and even though he always ends up playing the same game as Miller when they break into groups, he can interact through mockery and trash talk, which works for him. Especially since Miller gives as good as he gets.

He’s congratulating himself on interacting like a normal human and never having to do it again when Miller grabs his arm. “Hey, have you played Pandemic Legacy?”

“No, just regular Pandemic.”

“I’m trying to get a game going on Thursdays. Bellamy and Clarke are in, so we need a fourth. You want to join?”

“Thursdays?” he asks, to fill the space as his brain catches up.

“Yeah. I figure we won’t make it work every week, but I want to try it. I hear it’s cool.”

“Yeah, me too. I can probably do that, yeah. Thursday nights?”

“Yup. Give me your number, I’ll text you when we’ve got a plan.”

“Awesome, sounds good. Looking forward to it.”

They shake hands, and Bellamy and Miller do a bro hug, and everyone else says their goodbyes downstairs. Clarke’s going over to Bellamy’s, which means she’s not going the same direction he is anymore, and he gets to walk home alone, letting his music dominate his brain.

Jasper’s playing Splatoon when he gets to the apartment, and Monty just collapses next to him with a groan.

“Did it suck?”

“No. It was amazing. We have a ton in common, he has a huge game collection, he wants me to join a weekly Pandemic Legacy game. I don’t know how it could have gone better.”

Jasper pats his shoulder, consoling. “Sorry, bro. That sucks.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Miller’s never been one of the regulars who comes in every day, so Monty doesn’t actually see him again for another couple days. He comes in on Tuesday morning, though, looking just as attractive as always, except now he has a personality.

Clarke Griffin is the worst thing that’s ever happened to Monty, probably. This is her fault.

He’s grabbing a big order of pastries when Miller comes in, so he just offers a smile, but he ends up in line right next to him, because that’s the kind of luck Monty has.

“Morning,” says Miller.

“Morning. How’s it going?”

“Okay. I was hoping you were going to be here. When do you finish work on Thursday?”

He blinks. “Oh, uh–three? Morning shift.”

“Cool. I was thinking like six for the game. Order dinner, figure out the rules, fight over how to prevent disease while the world dies around. The usual.”

“Yeah, that should work for me. Are you getting any pastries?” he adds.

“Yeah, blueberry muffin.”

Monty grabs one quickly, puts it in a bag and hands it over. It’s nothing he hasn’t done for other regulars, nothing he hasn’t done for Miller before, even. But this is the problem with a fake crush becoming a real crush: now everything feels important. It’s not fun anymore.

Which is, of course, ridiculous. He still doesn’t have a chance. He just has real things to pine over.

“Thanks,” Miller says, easy. “I’ll text you later tonight.”

“Cool. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

“Very natural,” Maya says, patting his shoulder once Miller is gone. “Totally smooth.”

“It may seem that way, but on the inside I am dying.”

“No, I can tell.”

“Thanks,” he says. “Really.”

“At least you get to hang out with him every week,” Clarke says, and he glares at her.

“I’m not even talking to you. You’re banned.”

She just smiles. “You’re welcome.”

He makes sure there are no customers around before he gives her the finger. So he’s not that doomed.

Yet.

Interacting with Miller isn’t that bad, except that the whole crush thing doesn’t get better. He’s just waiting for something to ruin it, and nothing does. Miller is not only hot and queer, but sarcastic and geeky and passionate. He works for a theater company that does outreach in public schools and seems to love it, and while Monty doesn’t really think he saves kittens from trees in his spare time or anything, that’s not really his type anyway.

Miller is his type. Basically just as he is. And he has no idea what to do about it.

“You could ask him out,” Clarke says. They’ve got their fifth week of Pandemic Legacy tomorrow, and Monty might be complaining. Just a little.

In his defense, it is her fault. She deserves it.

“How dare you,” he says.

“Monty doesn’t woo,” Jasper adds. “Monty is wooed.”

“Hey, that’s not fair. Most of the time, I’m neither.”

“Oh right. In general, Monty is just sad and alone.”

“That’s me,” he agrees. “I’ve got a brand, Clarke. Respect the brand.”

“And your brand can never date Miller?”

“No, my brand’s just bad at it. And I think it’s incompatible with his,” he adds.

“Really?” Clarke asks, sounding dubious. “You’re nerds who love games. How are you not on Miller’s brand?”

“His low self esteem makes it hard for him,” says Jasper, like he’s some kind of expert.

“Your mom’s low self esteem makes it hard for her,” Monty mutters.

“You’re great, Monty,” says Clarke. “Really.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I’m asking Miller out.”

“Okay. But you could.”

“I could,” he agrees. “I’m just not.”

He assumes it’s the end of the conversation, which is true in a limited sense, but Clarke clearly doesn’t forget, because Monty’s been at Miller’s for about three minutes when their phones buzz with a message from Bellamy: Sorry, something came up, me and Clarke are out.

It’s not even a real excuse. They really could have done better.

Miller must agree, because he snorts and tosses his phone aside. “Wow, subtle.”

“You think they’re having sex?”

“Oh, probably. I meant–” He glances at Monty, like he’s thinking it over. “Bellamy’s been telling me to just make a move for weeks. He thinks just because he’s dating his barista crush, everyone else should too. So he probably decided to skip out just so I’d–do this.”

Monty’s mouth goes dry. “Wait, what?”

“No pressure,” he says, with a shrug. “But if they’re not here anyway, we could switch this to a date. Or we can pretend I didn’t say anything and play video games.”

It takes his brain a second to catch up. “Really?” is what he comes out with, and then, “I mean, um. Can we do both?”

“Both what?”

“Video game date? Like–we’re on a date, but we’re still playing video games. Is that something you’re into?”

Miller smiles. “Yeah, Monty. That’s exactly what I’m into.”

“Oh. Wow. What are the odds?”

“Pretty shitty,” Miller says. “We must be lucky.”

Monty can’t stop grinning. “Yeah, we must be.”

He makes Clarke a coffee when she shows up for her shift the next morning. “I’m not saying I forgive you,” he says. “But I no longer want to murder you.”

“Cool.” She raises the cup. “To customer crushes?”

“To customer boyfriends,” he corrects, and she grins.

“Even better.”

#screwitanddoitanyway

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stitch-xiu-up · 7 years ago

Text

Changkyun and Jooheon Gangster!AU

So, I got this for a request, originally, the person requested either member, but I thought, screw it! I’ll do both ^-^ So this is how it turned out in the end!

Lotto Love

~ Stitch

Jooheon

How he meets you:

(Y/N) was walking home from work in the early hours of the morning because hospital shifts are the worst, so being a nurse is great and all but when you see a person who is clearly screaming danger and is bleeding rather heavily while unconscious at a very unsociable hour (2 am lol), a normal person’s reaction would be to get the hell out of there. But being a nurse, (Y/N) has sworn to save any life that she can, so, against their better judgement, (Y/N) goes over to him where they immediately start to bandage gashes (most medical people tend to carry around some form of first aid equipment around with them). (Y/N) was also monitoring this person’s pulse and reaction levels. They stayed with this strange boy (he’s totes a man, but he looks so god damn squishy with those adorbs cheeks). Anywho, (Y/N) stayed with this person for five whole hours until they regained consciousness. As far as Jooheon was concerned, when he unexpectedly opened his eyes (he legit thought that he was going to die in this alley way ngl), he saw an angel. And from that day on Jooheon did his best to keep minor injuries so he could see (Y/N) again, I mean (Y/N) thought that it was pretty cute, but at the same time, they weren’t too impressed with the frequency that he was coming in with injuries.

How he asks you out:

Jooheon had honestly worked up all his courage for this moment. I mean, obviously he has courage, he’s part of a mafia but that courage is different to confessing attraction to a person and telling them what he does for a living while hoping and praying that they can see past the fact that he kills people and deals in drugs and whatnot. He honestly looked like he was going to pass out or throw up (maybe even both) when he went to go and pick (Y/N) up after their shift ended. “So, uh, (Y/N) um…” was how this whole conversation started, after a little reassurance to keep talking from (Y/N) it all came out in a flood. “I’m part of the X Mafia! But! I also really really like you!” He had blurted out while his cheeks flushed as red as apples. (Y/N) was pretty taken aback at how out the blue the whole thing had been, but hey, “Jooheon, when I first saw you, I kind of figured that you didn’t have normal salary job” “Oh…”

How you two end up married:

Jooheon and (Y/N) had been dating for like, a frickin decade (lol, jokes, not that long). It had been two years to the day when Jooheon took (Y/N) out to a little park that was super pretty in the evening when the weather was just perfect, light breeze but still warm enough that a jacket wasn’t completely necessary. Anywho, Jooheon had been planning this for absolutely ages! He had asked the other guys for tips, they all gave him absolutely useless information so he was left to watch chick flicks and look stuff up online. Anyway, He was so sure that he had everything sorted! Jooheon took (Y/N) through a small wooded area that would look creepy if (Y/N) didn’t know how much of a cutie patootie he was to them. Once he guided them both through the woods, (Y/N) was met with the prettiest scene before them, fireflies bobbed about and danced through the sky while gloxinia flowers (they mean love at first sight) spelt out the words that (Y/N) had been waiting for. ‘Will you marry me?’ and as (Y/N) turned around, Jooheon was already on one knee with a box in his hand. Opening the box and revealing the ring was all it took for (Y/N) to throw themselves into his arms wailing a ‘yes’ somewhere in between.

Chankyun

How he meets you:

Changkyun and (Y/N) met at a high school reunion that Changkyun’s friends at the time had dragged him to against his will. (Y/N) had always been a rather quiet student that had never really grabbed anyone’s attention which was one of the reasons that they were standing alone and drinking alcohol while watching everyone mingling with old classmates. A sigh slipped past (Y/N)’s lips as their eyes scanned the crowd once again, stopping when a certain mobster caught their attention. Im Changkyun had always been a bit of a delinquent even in high school, so when some rumours spread through the old school years that he was part of a big time mafia, (Y/N) wasn’t particularly surprised. (Y/N) knew of him in high school but wasn’t associated or introduced to him in any way other than that they knew ‘of’ him. Either way, getting a little off topic here. (Y/N) stared at him for a little while thinking that he hadn’t really changed very much, still very attractive but taller and much more mature looking (In a mobster and intimidating way). Anywho, as (Y/N) was staring at Changkyun in interest, his eyes slid over to look straight back at (Y/N). However, they hadn’t actually noticed yet so a smirk couldn’t really help itself but to glide it’s way across Changkyun’s lips. Without hesitation, he made his way smoothly over. His suit was pretty damn fancy and the way he was holding his glass of whiskey was also pretty damn fine, not going to lie. When (Y/N) finally noticed that he was moving towards them, (he was like a meter away) they started to panic a little. But it was too late. “Hey, It’s … (Y/N) … right?” He asked as he tilted his head slightly. “Changkyun… right?” (Y/N) countered. Oh, how interesting Changkyun found this person to be.

How he asks you out:

Changkyun had been keeping in contact with (Y/N) quite frequently over social media and he wasn’t as bad as they had assumed he would have been. Their communication started to get a little steamy though, it started with little jokes and general conversation but then it started to change and get a lot more sexual. Obviously they were both adults and they weren’t going to do anything completely stupid. (Y/N) originally just replied as a little joke but they started to get into it. Changkyun was very good at making people feel special, thankfully though, (Y/N) was able to figure this out and stopped replying to his messages and unfollowed him on social media. Fate, however, had different plans for the two of them. (Y/N) was out at a club with some friends from work. (Y/N) had decided to just let go and thought ‘fuck it’ while throwing drinks down the back of their throat like there was no tomorrow (lol, if this night went the wrong way, there probs wouldn’t be a tomorrow for (Y/N)). What Changkyun wasn’t expecting as he drowned his frustration in whiskey and vodka (mixing your spirits is never a good idea kids! Don’t copy Changkyun), anyway, he definitely wasn’t expecting to see (Y/N) dancing only a few meters away from him at the last place he thought he would ever see them. With alcohol coursing through his system, he stood and swerved around the meaningless people and beelined straight for (Y/N) where he immediately grabbed their face and kissed them hotly and with a fervor that he had never felt before. And the rest of the night was a bit of a blur if I’m being honest. But (Y/N) woke up, knowing for sure, that they did not own silk sheets and that their bed did not smell like a very expensive cologne, (Y/N) also knew, that they did not have a person in their single bed. (Yes,they did the do, the frick frack, the one night stand.) “So,” Changkyun hummed in a deep pitch as he ruffled his hair, “want to go out?” He smirked as he pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s cheek.

How you two end up married:

Changkyun and (Y/N) had been together for almost three years now and (Y/N) was waiting for the big moment when Changkyun was going to ask them to marry him. Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months. (Y/N) was starting to expect that they were always only going to stay dating. Changkyun was wanting to get married too, unbeknownst to (Y/N). It’s just that he knows how dangerous his lifestyle is and he wouldn’t want to put his wife in unnecessary danger simply because of his last name. By this point (Y/N) was starting to consider just proposing to him instead if he wasn’t going to make the first move. The day that (Y/N) was going to ask him to get married, there was quite a big fight that had Changkyun way too occupied, so that chance was missed, another few months slipped by again after that. But one night, after Changkyun had managed to one way or another get (Y/N) into bed with him again for the fourth time that week. Anyway, as (Y/N) was lying there just thinking, Changkyun was scrolling through his phone as he broke the comfortable silence, “Let’s get married, yeah.” He said it so matter of factly that it threw (Y/N) off a little. Didn’t take long for them to recover though, “You’re asking me that now? Really?” (Y/N) frowned before continuing, “Where’s the romance Changkyun, Jesus!” They huffed as they pulled the bed sheets closer to their body. “Well sorry, I didn’t realise you wanted a big song and dance about it.” Was all he had to say for himself as he continued to scroll while simultaneously handing (Y/N) a box with a ring inside.

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kpoptrashmx · 7 years ago

Text

Monsta X Scenario: Meeting you at a fan signing

Hey guys! This is my first Monsta X Reaction/Scenario writing (I’ve been thinking of doing this for a while but was very hesitant about doing it but I did!). It might be very low quality because it is my first time writing but I hope you guys enjoy it anyways because I did try my best. Thank you so much ♡ - Iman

PS: There are members that have reactions might a bit longer than the others and that might be because I got carried away towards the end (Remember I do love the members equally)… so my apologises in advance.

Shownu: The second he sees you, he becomes very shy. He turns very hesitant as he’s unsure of what to say to you. However, it changes once you start talking to him as you try to break his shy shell by talking about the things you both love. His dad jokes are passed around the table, giggles and laughs are heard throughout the whole venue because of them. “Thank you so much for coming to the fan meeting today and thank you for sharing such good laughs with me. Hopefully, we can meet again because you are such a sweet and fun girl.”

Wonho: This boy gets really cocky once he sees you. While you’re waiting in line, he tries to make eye contact with you and when you two do make eye contact, he tries to impress you in every way possible. You let out a few giggles here and there when you see Wonho trying you gain your attention (and he definitely gains you attention). He leaves the room for a quick bathroom break and when he returns, you expect him to return back to the stage and continue with the fan signings. However, he had other things on his mind. Instead of making his way to the stage, he makes his way to you. “Since your beauty and light attracted me, you’ve now got my undivided attention, my dear.”

Minhyuk: Minhyuk, the ball of sunshine. Seeing you got him very hyped up. Once you got up to the stage and met up with him for the signing; he asked for your name, tried to be funny with you, sang his songs together, played around with the animal headbands and took pictures from every angle with every filter on Snapchat. He tried to make this meeting something memorable for the both of you, and it definitely did. Once the fan signing came to an end and when you were making your way home, a notification went off on your phone. You see a familiar picture from Minhyuk’s fan cafe, a selfie of you and Minhyuk with a dog filter with a caption; “I would like to thank Y/N for such an amazing time at the fan signing. She made such supportive and sweet comments that made me so motivated and excited for Monsta X’s future. Thank you so much, Y/N. ♡”

Kihyun: Once he meets your eyes, he calls you up to the stage with a smile: “Ya! You in the back, come and make your way up here.” You look around you just to make sure if he was talking to you or someone else and then you look at him and point to yourself, he nods and gestures to make your way up to the stage. You walk up to the stage hesitantly but he reassures your nerves by sweet talking to you. He asks you about your day, if you’re going to the concert later that night, asks you if he’s your bias and grins when he sees you blushing while looking down at your feet. Cheesy pickup lines are stated by Kihyun which makes you blush and the other members cringe behind his back. The whole fan signing with Kihyun was such a great opportunity, you left the fan signing venue with a big smile on your face. While you were waiting outside of the concert venue, you looked through your album once more and a particular paper fell out. You read it with a smile; “Y/N, thank you for making your way up to fan meeting, it was such a pleasure meeting you. However since you were an hour late, you need to stay one more hour with me after the concert. - Kihyun” (The quote is similar to the ‘Who’s the Best at Dating’ video, I bet you all know what I’m talking about)

Hyungwon: Fan signings can get really tiring a while especially if they continue till the evening. You came in a bit late because of your tight schedule in the morning. Starbucks was your first stop before the fan signing venue. You had this feeling that your bias, Hyungwon, was worn out at this time of day so you decided to buy him a coffee to help energise his tiring day. Entering the venue you see a crowd of monbebes and the 7 boys at the top of the stage, on the far right of the stage you see Hyungwon slowly dozing off. You make your way up to the stage and lightly tap Hyungwon out of his unconscious state. He looks up to see you with a bright smile and a coffee in hand. “Here, I thought that you’d be a bit tired at this point of day so I decided to buy you something energising.” you say with a smile. He gladly accepts your kind gesture and asks you to take a seat. You guys talk for a while about various things on your minds, play with the bubbles that Wonho was blowing, drinking coffee, watching the boys trying to make a heart with their arms and so on. Before you leave, you give him another gift to show your love and support for him. He takes your hands and says “Y/N, thank you for the small sweet gestures, they mean a lot to me. The next time we meet, I promise to pay you back the same way to did; returning sweet gestures and supporting you in every way possible.”

Jooheon: Aegyo, aegyo and aegyo ♡ Did I mention aegyo? You’d expect the boy have that rapper vibe the second you met up with him but you thought wrong. Jooheon showed you the new version of his Kuku Kaka song and it warmed your heart to the point you squealed in front of him (fangirl instincts kicking in). You two decided to go full on aegyo; conversation were now no longer spoken in a normal manner. All the other members and monbebes found the action as something very cute as they got to see Jooheon lighten up from his usual cool, laid back rapper figure. Towards the end after the aegyo meltdown came to an end, Jooheon signs the album you brought to the meeting and adds a little extra information… “To Y/N, thank you so much for bonding with me through aegyo. It was really nice to bond with someone who accepts my aegyo without cringing or leaving the room ㅋㅋㅋ. Maybe next time for my mixtape instead of rapping, I could invite you to the studio show that we can create a new aegyo song! From Jooheon (his phone number)”

IM: Changkyun tries to make the fan meeting/signing as professional as possible however when you make your way up to the stage and take a sit right in front of him, he gets really awkward and flustered. However, you had the same feelings/emotions as him which slowly calmed him down. You shyly talk about his new mixtape, Who Am I, and tell him how much you are in love with his skills and talent. The whole fan meeting with Changkyun started off nerve-wrecking however after you two warmed up to each other it basically became a place where you two talked about your favourite rappers and his mixtapes. “It’s nice to know that there is someone who has the same personality as me and has the same musically interests” he thought to himself. Before you left, he made you listen to his new mixtape and asked you for your opinions. In the end, you left the venue a sweet note from Changkyun in your signed album and a link to his mixtape album on SoundCloud.

#monsta x #monsta x shownu #monsta x wonho #monsta x minhyuk #monsta x kihyun #monsta x hyungwon #monsta x jooheon #monsta x im #monsta x reactions #monsta x scenarios #this is my first time writing so please don't judge #i tried my absolute best #i hope you guys like it though

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whifferdills · 7 years ago

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“The Doctor Falls” quicktakes:

the cybermen scarecrows both make no sense and tie into so totally and terrifyingly into the overall theme of 'normalized horror' that if anyone is nitpicking based on Logic im gonna have to ask if you've ever enjoyed a piece of fiction, ever

Bill holding 12 is Iconic. the dark mirror of that one photoshoot where Sophie Aldred is carrying Sylvester McCoy. Companions Carrying Around Dr Who Forever

"how many times have you died?" "how many different ways?" like o.k. might be revealing too much of myself but this scene was hotttt

NARDOLE running away with purpose. that face

"oh, am i a woman now?" "well, kind of" "kiss me" "make me" "would you like to be alone?" im....fuckin. yeah

"which would mean more than it usually does" i n n u e n d o

that SONG what are they dancing to. if i remember to edit this i'll try and shazaam it

"old school, nice for a change," Simm!Master says while stroking his beard

Simm remains the slimiest of all Masters and the continuing sense of Missy playing along either to impress him or to play him or...these TWO

"Round??" "It's a little bit" "Shut up" THIS TIME LORD OK

shades of...what's that one where Simm pushes 10 around. Simm v much wants the Dr under his total control, but i think Missy would hugely prefer informed consent

confirming all origins of the Cybermen while dissing Trump and pulling off an unlikely plan: dr who in a nutshell

like even if what happens at the end did not happen, in an ideal world where narrative tropes are equally distributed, this is precisely how you'd do a conversion-type story. the emphasis on the character reacting against the monster they've become. having Bill be human!Bill for the most part really, really works

and the Dr being the only one who sees her, shades of "Last Christmas"

PCap going hard in the paint, dang

"Knock yourself out", and she does. nice

"Seriously, I need to know, is that true?" oh there's so much here and they're so close and it's just. how she looks at her hand after the dr lets it go, and rubs her face, and everything gets weird when dealing with touch telepaths

BILL MY GIRL GO GET EM

"the Doctor's dead, told me he hated you" "yeah heard you the first time" new dynamic: master/missy/nardole

the whole...dangerous person everyone is afraid of has a particular weight, when portrayed as a black lesbian. it's both kind of hinky and is getting at a really deep emotion, there. like sure it's not ideal but for Bill, dunno. this just seems like it rams in hard into her fears in an empathetic way

once again i do believe the Bill & Thete comparisons are deliberate

Bill looking into the mirror like...dang dude

Jelly baby?

aw the quiet whump, 12 is already broken and about to get more broken and. MY BOY. NO

they're so quiet, both of them. this scene is so heartbreakingly underplayed until the "i'm FINE" im

Bill yes i love you and support you

"why can't I be angry" ohhhhh that's a loaded line. maybe not played out so great but. yes. ask this question more, in your fiction

Nardole goes native once again. i love how him being a Computer Genius was woven into the series so he could save the day. nice organic arc, that

Bill & 12 brotp tho oh jeez these two

fuck off Simm!Master. so good at being slimy, and i love it, but a decade on am once again prepared to side-eye anyone who finds him Cute or Hot. he's a fuckboy, right

12's about to do a "Caves of Androzani" please no

Bill realizing 12 can't save her fuckin...fuck

"as my friend...i don't want to live if i can't be me anymore" and instead of "OH but i can SAVE THE DAY" the dr just says "...yeah. i gotchu. but - maybe?" and it's. thank.

s o n i c u m b r e l l a

is Simm!Master now sufficiently obviously gross enough for people to not write fluffy uwu fanfic

BILL MY GIRL

"Is the future gonna be all girl?" "We can only hope" CHINBALLS ARE U LISTENING

aw them three together pointing their sonics while Simm yells "kILL ITT" "well done, genius twins"

Nardole and his new girl...yknow, im happy for them. i like them. best of luck, godspeed

"is it wrong that I... "yes, very" HOLY SHIT AKDIPAHFFHPIAFHPIAWk0R-RY*@%@

kind of a Night of the Hunter vibe here

and a "Listen" vibe

Nardole was found on a doorstep

god the Dr's desperation here, how they just want to be kind even if it kills them. this is My Dr Who, right here. and aw Pcap stop making me tear up

"just to the end, just be kind" thank you murray gold and etc for shutting up, this scene really benefits from a lack of music, can u imagine how much a standard Gold riff would ruin this (sorry i uhhh. like i enjoy gold in broader stories and sometimes he nails it but im not hugely a fan)

and how Missy almost, almost stays

and dR WHO please PLEASE oh god ohgodohgodoh

Them RTD Cyberman Noises

t h e a p p l e o f d i s c o r d

like...okay this was not my dream ending for Twelvedole but the 'fuck off i'm a criminal im gonna ruin this so' and the 'you're stronger' and the.....fuck dude. and Nardole sort of saying goodbye at the tomb/elevator and then going on to live his life...it's bittersweet but i can deal

"You sure?" "You know i am" Aoufqurgo3qrq69r5674248148rfyhwekjs9d8f2q9(((((((((*^

"I need you to be big, and I need you to be brave, and I need you to follow me" NARDOLE

"Now that? was very really nicely done" i'm gonna fling myself into the sun

the Dr won't ever know that she meant to stand by their side and it's so them but it hurts ok

"You know how I go for girls and people my own age" and you're expecting like, oh god, not again, not another companion with a crush on the Dr, but then she says 'no hetero' and the dr's like 'yeh' and they blow themselves up together platonically. friendship goals

my headcanons about Koschei regenerating into Missy on Gallifrey are now kaput but i love, love love love, that they both shot each other in the back while giggling

remember that any character on this show is dead only until someone wants to bring them back

the dr won't ever know that missy would have stood by them and that's so...so them, and it hurts, but it feels right

12 naming off all the times Cybermen fucked shit up. here is where Murray Gold is good

"Let it go" im, i cant

when heather came back is when i outright started crying

BILL LIVES. in a different way. BUT FOREVER AND ALWAYS

but plus 1 to all of us who called heather coming back may they travel thru time and space happily, good luck and godspeed

hit or miss on that dude playing One but rn am erring on the side of it working for me

the Xmas special is gonna destroy me

am genuinely surprised there was no 13 here but i can deffo live with that

"i can fly anything, even you" oooHHHH

OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH

nice

Bill's the Dr now

woo-ee-ooooh oh dogg was that a riff on Clara's theme just fuck me up fam

tbh i feel like 12's earned their 'i don't want to go' more than ten like it's just that they want to stop more than anything

again the xmas special will ruin me

but yeh i liked this story ok

#the doctor falls #dw spoilers

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annnndere · 8 years ago

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I ship (bespectacled catcher to red-head manager)

Call me crazy!!!! BWUAHAHAAHAHAAH!!!! *slapped*

It is kind of absurd to ship the characters that don’t have any kind of communication, interaction in the original series. For god sake they barely talk so I never win in the shipping war if I’m going to attempt to fight their togetherness or express to the world that they must be together. Instead I’ll make my own canon island where I will ship there whoever I want without expecting something might happen from the original. Welcome to my wonderland xD I disclaim those characters for the obvious reason they owned by the rightful owners ;3

Oh by the way, Its my preference to romantically ship hetero pairing in shounen anime/manga series..I’m not into homo shipping otp in nonromance/shounen which is the widespread shipping fandom among the market of anime industry…(i just cant… sorry people) and when I ship an (boy and girl)otp there, I ship hard..really hard *grins* Is anybody out there who still ship girlxboy pairing in shounen? Raise your hand and don’t hesitate to flail with me. I’m going to greet you with open arms. ^_^

Lately, since I’ve watched Daiya no Ace, my wild headcanon kicked in along the way. I’ve already made submissions in the deviantart of some fanarts of the mindfreak but smartass baseball catcher(Miyuki Kazuya) together with the red-head first year manager(Yoshikawa Haruno). Absurd right? where in the world did i get that irrational idea? (Maybe because I’m red biasxD l)even in the drama cd there’s no interaction that involve between them *cries in latin*. In the Daiya no Ace universe its absolutely impossible. I guess that’s why there is a diversion which is the alternate universe. ;3

There’s a reason behind my out of the universe otp base to their character profile (and a little bit string to connect):3

Why this crazy girl ship these two: Love has no theory. Bwuahahaha *slapped* In the 4th episode of Daiya no Ace, Haruno Yoshikawa has an air time introduction that give us an impression she might have the important role in the series. She supports and believes Sawamura even nobody does. (When she was clouded with the reality of her being so far from being a reliable manager in the prestigious/powerhouse baseball club, Sawamura declaration of being ace lifts her spirit to work hard and carry on to her dream). NOPE to them romantically btw! Hahaha I already ship Sawamura with Wakana(and it grew stronger in Season 2. my only ray of hope in the hetero shipping in the sports anime)

There is potential if Sawamura and Yoshikawa platonic friendship was developing (I caught one time episode where Sawamura reading a book and Yoshikawa badly wants to talk with him about it but her inability to communicate boys same age as her hinders her to try) and Sawamura will become her high school buddy(yep they are classsmate so its possible).

They can be brought closer with the common traits they have which is their weak point. They’ll find the kind of comfort of being themselves entirely without minding their inferiority(Sawamura is loud type while Yoshikawa is silent type but in that sense they’ve got a same weak point). My point is with that friendship, She can be a female and quiet version of Eijun that could match for the smartass and a little bit controlling Miyuki Kazuya. The sad truth about Miyuki based on my observation is he prefers older woman(Rei-chan) *sulks in the deepest corner* well its pretty normal for the smart, genius, cool-headed guy to inevitably attract to women that could be match to his standard which is rather high and older than him because he found it more appealing. hmpf (Noted also that Miyuki has been used to admire by teenage girls so he wasn’t move easily with the sexual attraction to the same age as him)

on the brighter side, I’m college student and Miyuki is high school so i think I am qualified to his taste(not sure about the standard). Nyiahahahhaha nevermind that

Joke aside, Miyuki’s mind is still faaaaaaaar like the distance of the sun from the things that has nothing to do with baseball. Well it doesn’t matter since I love seeing my baby spending his youth with the thing he’s passionate about in his heart content that could form his character, style and identity. The source of beauty is the well-build identity and style. I seek nothing more satisfying in his high school life and that’s what im up for to begin with lols. However, I’ve loved to see his other side.(He is my ultimate crush ichiban and i’ve got plenty of his screencaps already in my phone) Maybe in his college or in his early 20′s he may realize that he will need a woman that would help him to loosen up from the cruel pace and battle in baseball world. More likely a “girl” that’s too naive to understand the complex and grim truth about how the reality works and won’t bother to compete/match his intellectual skill to be able to earn the special room in his life. It would be a girl that will cheer him with all her might and earnestly support him and believes in him no matter how hopeless the situation can be. That her faith for him is brighter than the reality she bare witness. Miyuki will need that kind of innocence to harmonize in the tough battles he chose to fight.. Yoshikawa Haruno would be an ideal girl for him. ( i dont mind that these ideals only exist in my little island of canon. call me crazy. an advance defense for those who’ll react xD)

If they’ve given a chance(If Yoshikawas is less shy and Miyuki is less busy with his baseball practice/training life), Miyuki and Yoshikawa could have a stimulating conversation about the baseball related topic and its affair that are happening from the oldest news up to the updated news. xD Yoshikawa gets excited when she met the former coach of Seidou. She was star strucked by seeing him in person telling the former coach that she used to watch him on tv when she was a kid. That moment proves that Yoshikawa is very enthusiastic about baseball since her childhood. They could build a bond by sharing their common interest and I can assure that Miyuki could see the sparks on her eyes as if she’s already floating in her own bliss without minding the label/status of whoever she talks to if it is about the thing she truly enjoys. That spark can make that person beautiful. Miyuki will be surprised to the beauty he hasn’t seen in the invisible manager :D

Passion makes anyone beautiful. Same goes to the passionate baseball players that they’ve become astonishingly cool when they play in the field.

Anyway .. Its my personal opinion. HAHAHA. If you think that they are not shippable and there’s no way because theyre barely communicate and never at all in fact, please respect my own preference. I just merely express here. Im not trying to persuade my likes to anyone and i dont earn power or whatsoever. hihi (yep im asking for the respect beforehand because later on i will be uploading some works(fanfic, oneshot, fanarts, doujin) about them ;3 so excuse me in advance(let me please because its too strong to ignore))

As much as I want to make an OC to be pair for Miyuki,(to satisfy my sexual attraction to this ikimen catcher*wipe nosebleed*) I can’t help but to use one of Yuji Terajima female character. if there is no invisible, ordinary but awkwardly trying her best Yoshikawa Haruno, I might create an OC that close to her personality. Rawr … I’ve already shipped Takako with Isashiki or Yuuki. Most likely Isashiki Jun :3

#headcanon #i ship them #because why not #alternate universe #daiya no ace #diamond of ace #miyuki kazuya #anime #manga #otp #crack #pair #yoshikawa haruno #redhead #megane #confession #ace of diamond #yuji terajima

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rennyji · 3 years ago

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June 3rd tweets...wondering, thoughts, relationships, past, normal tweets...

June 3rd tweets...as follows...-

-You know something, I mentioned how I like the name Rachel and once “knew of”(not know) a girl named Rachel. I remember being in one of the reading rooms in the library at Binghamton, during my last year there. -

-Before I figured this girl was going out with someone, random girls would shout the name “Rachel” in the quiet of the reading room- alluding to my interest reaching an audience-

-...but in hindsight, why shout the name...was i to react to it in someway? Or was it because this cr*p started a little earlier?! I mean, what?, shout the name and see how I react? On “what ‘level?’” This girl would always post a profile pic with two of her best friends.-

-On one occasion, I told a guy I was interested in this girl. One of her best friends was sitting a distance away, diagonally, at another table, in the food court. I’ve always wondered if this girl had super sonic hearing...-

-or is something relaying what I’m saying...the very next day, after my conversation,-

-I go to the coffee kiosk in the library and there are girls acting differently...when the girl dates a mechanical engineering major, after Easter or spring break, I go through the dining hall and there are random girls with the look, “lol you lost ur chance”...-

-then when I’m at the Starbucks up in Binghamton, there’s another best friend taking a picture of me through the glass window of the starbucks. Was that to show her friend that I’m not bothered about anything or because they were feeding into a medium? It could be-

-the medium as there were other kids with cameras...I think I remember telling my own friends about it. When I wrote about the girl on Facebook in Albany, a friend from a part time job in Binghamton messaged me on Facebook saying it’s a bad idea. -

-I guess I forgot 2remove him before writing was intended. But the thing with this is, in my calculus class in Albany, there was white male - little older than the rest- on 1day, who seemed enthusiastic to talk to me. Post writing on Facebook, he looked serious and ignoring me.-

-How could all of these social or environmental reactions happen within a day?! While I was in freedom apartments in Albany, there was what sounded like these slight male/female voices for a brief time while I was only there. Were those my roommates or...-

-questions questions, is cr*p American psychology waiting for something like this as part of their ridiculous methodology for some sissy American girl treatment? Trust me, in saying that I’m not advertising myself as “gangsta.” What do you think of me? -

-You see a soft angle to a multi angle personality and think I��m going to sensitively handle or cannot handle everything? What is my focus, and who is my audience?- remember that from the complaint form writing?! Am I not repeating everything from 11 years ago?-

-Compared 2habits now like buying sh*t, back then I was working out &swimming @ the local YMCA. So what is this cr*p about?! When I went to the FBI office in Bethlehem, NY , before the agent I spoke with, spoke to me, him &a woman on the upper floor of that area had these looks -

-on their faces like why is “he” here... when I wrote on a complaint form he suggested-probably as part of the f*kin country’s conspiracy to get me to write all day everyday- about certain kids, they walk past me, enraged, the next day. -

-When I went to Guilderland police department in the middle of the night, there was an officer behind a computer screen and an female officer talking to me. After talking to me partially, the female officer goes to the guy at the computer and I hear “what! You means it’s true?!”-

-Then she returns and tells me that what I’m saying is nothing. This much denying and getting people to follow instructions. I tell people to do something good with their lives, for themselves, they won’t do it. But you manage the world to be fake around me!-

-How is that, why is that? Remember you racist f* of orchestrators, in the end of this, one of us will be ruined. Whites and blacks, see your country in all its glory.

now in shifting the mood, focus...moving onto the next thing...

so a thought on relationships...-

-I believe before meeting a woman to be your girl friend or wife, having a career or at least a promising academic career, is essential. I means it’s different if ur just friends. When I first started college with my first major of engineering, it wasn’t going well. -

-In trying 2also have a good routine/schedule/full life, I still made time 4working out, part time jobs, &a girl friend. But as engineering went south, despite the great girl friend (she would walk from her off campus apartment to the campus library to study with me at 6 am),-

-I didn’t feel comfortable being in a relationship or asking someone out, when priority wise, my academic career was on the line. I want to have a life like my friend Sean and his wife. -

- Both of them have degrees, both of them are lawyers, both of them have each other’s back in all aspects-what a quality life you can build like that. They were best friends when we were all in college-What a privilege. -

-In my opinion, a career or academic career is essential 2a relationship, because when, in whatever regard, things get serious, u have a way of supporting each other or a potential way of supporting each other. When married or in a relationship, I want 2be an asset 2my partner, -

-I want 2make her day, and I want her to make mine. Even with the concept of flings, a career or academic career is essential. I mean regarding that, I feel Im from a different time. Amongst present college kids and that age group, things seem to be liberal and ok being liberal.-

-I mean, I went 2college in 2006 when Facebook 1st started- from a different time. When I’d interact with kids as a Residential Consultant ( label for IT Support part time jobs for college dorms) while living in the dorms in 2007 and 2008, I noticed every year, students change-

- in personalities. I think 2006 freshman were the last of an era, at least at Binghamton. I went to schools in the 90s where they tell you to act responsibly and be mindful of the consequences of your actions in a relationship and elsewhere- different time.-

-When I transferred to the party school, maybe my peers of the time thought I’m a freshman or that I’m a teenager. But I was in my very early 20s. I grew up with a private education and transferred to a state school- a different sub culture. -

- I was in grade school when Britney Spears came out with “Oops I did it again,” the age of the Spice Girls, and the maca rana (the dance, if that’s how it’s spelled). If a fling goes south, with no career or academic career, how do you take care of things?...-

-I mean in most cases, not the kinda thing you’d ideally want to go to your parents about. In the time I grew up, having a lot of girl friends or flings put women off. It ruins ur chances of meeting that dream girl for the future. -

-But nowadays, I think people think or are taught differently or are set one way by their friends. Honestly, I don’t know what to make of things anymore - not in a good way or a bad way. -

-I think women as a whole have changed. U always hear guys are after only 1 thing, but there was 1 girl I liked, who I wasn’t sure liked me, there were some interactions like we became Facebook friends, then all of a sudden she deletes me without cause &goes a step further to -

-block me- a little extreme. You get curious and manage to see the profile pic of her under the covers with the lead guy in a band. To make someone jealous? Or wanting to fulfill a - I guess - a girls dream of being with a guy in a band?..-

-no offense to him, but I don’t think on my worst day, I’d lose a girl to him, but whatever. Even compared to her, or in general, I don’t get how girls pick guys. -

-Point being women can be strange and have changed over time. On that note, I think it happened in April. In Binghamton, it was a time for spring dances at the school, and I couldn’t help but think, amidst her friends, -

-this girl would wanted to take part in something like that or might feel left out. There was a time I’d see her going up the stairs to the dorm as I’d go down, and she was carrying a red suitcase with I think wheels and a handle. -

-Might remember it wrong. I thought maybe she has a strict family and they make her go home on the weekends in the beginning and she just wants to live her life to the fullest, like in what she may feel her friends are doing. -

-While I’m a solo act since the first grade despite passing friends and the interest of others(due to the story that comes after this whole thought/section), she needs friends and clearly gets supportive friends..I mean I could be reading into the whole thing...-

-but that was my impression...when her mother (or I think it was cuz it’s different from the pictures online) came to pick her up at the end of the school year, I kind of waved goodbye to her, and as they were driving, they paused for a moment, and I couldn’t help but wonder if-

-her mother wasn’t asking her about the boy that waved at her. My school wasn’t going well and I couldn’t dance. I was hoping she would find someone, but letting go of an interest for responsibility is a sacrifice that requires effort.-

-I mean you wait for a combination of characteristics and the universe delivers at the most inconvenient time. When I’d go to Church around that time, out of my interest and resulting thoughts for the girl, I’d pray she’d find someone good for her.-

-Kind of feel like doing stuff like that as part of the aforementioned effort a sentence or two ago. If there was anything to be angry about, it was the psychotic after effect. She gets the guy and randomness follows for me.-

-In order to be away from familial and cultural obligations on a level beyond college, I need a career, and for that I need a good degree, all so that I can live and experience life to the fullest. I couldn’t help but feel there were those who’d read into my actions. -

-All that said, pull something like that while dating me, I’m Not so well wishing or understanding, or forgiving that is if it happened to a couple dating. -

-My whole life of going to catholic schools and all boys high school, I aimed for the dream of making the prettiest woman my best friend in college and marrying her.-

-Then this present day 11+ year “situation” happened, messing up my academics, limiting my career options, keeping women as a whole away from me...I mean, such was my dream, as mentioned, as a kid and in my teenage years and 20s. -

-Now I’m in my very early 30s and my dream about a woman seems to carry no value or effect. The dream just seemed like a waste of time (although no dream, especially marrying a best friend should be) cuz life itself went out of its way to go upside down for me. -

-I mean in hindsight, you wonder, did you have high morals, think too much, or are you in fact right that the rest of the world didn’t think enough or think things through. I mean, in all humility, 11+ years ago, I was a pretty decent looking guy...-

-.if nothing else, I had the thickest of hair and it was long...at that time, I had so many female prospects but stayed focused on my dream...-

-here I am 11+ years later, bald, losing muscle and gaining weight from inflicted lifestyles by the orchestrators, tired, and having the world on one team or one side while I’m on another.-

-It makes you think about morals, right and wrong, and a bunch of things like that, as ur left alone and bored out of ur mind, feeling like in a pretty jail cell’s bed, for all these years. -

-I think right & wrong, boils down 2 whats right “for an individual,” at a particular point in their life. In life, there are rules, religion, traditions, cultures...but ur job as a person is 2 live in each second, making both smart & wise decisions, as appropriate 4 ur life, -

-without caring about what others think. Don’t model your life on anyone, but your goals and dreams. Going back to the main point, Time and opportunities were stolen from me, and here I am today, in a different world, with the dream squashed.

Regarding something mentioned in the previous section/thought/set of tweets, here's a tale from the past:-

-You wanna know how long my dream of marrying my best friend dates back? Here’s a story. Although born and brought up here, when I was in pre-k, I didn’t speak that much English, because I spent time with my paternal grandmother mostly. -

-She would speak to me in our Indian dialect, and with my parents being Indian immigrants, she was of the belief, “why does their son need to learn English?” In pre-K, there was an Indian girl that I friended and spent all of my time with. -

-Our parents friended each other and carpooled and we went over each other’s houses and birthday parties. While she gathered together in a circle with her girl friends, I’d hover around her.-

-In the same way, I expect potential girl friends and my wife to teach me how to dance, my kindergarten friend would teach me how to bike ride and roller blade. She was my courage. -

When we were in kindergarten, if she was absent from school, I would run away from school. I managed, on one such occasion, to escape my kindergarten teacher’s notice, and ran for home, as the school was 5 min away from my old house near central ave in Yonkers.-

-My dad was walking home and caught sight of me, and I forget if he took me back to school or took me home with him. When I graduated from that school, the kindergarten teacher was sure to write about that in my year book. That was my relationship with this girl. -

-Then, as first grade approached, her father, a doctor, had a job transfer far away. She was going to leave me. It was something I had to accept about my first friend as first grade approached.-

-But at that time, I decided I would find a replacement to be my best friend, and marry her. That’s the origin of the dream the orchestrators squashed.

and now, normal tweets...-

Was listening 2"All 10's" playlist on Spotify the other day. Heard this girly song called Shower, by an artist w/a very girly name of "BeckyG"..Despite transitioning from Memories-Kid Cudi/David Guetta-I couldn't help but think ofMyself dancing w/a potential daughter 2that song.

Bad Blood music video from Taylor Swift...with all those Wonder Woman like women in the video, makes a guy wish he was taller to be with them...

I heard on the news that you should wash you hands with soap for 30 seconds after touching money, as cash and coins have been handled by who-knows-how-many-people-doing-whatever... I wonder if anyone else does it...kind of a pain, and more incentive to use the card...-

-especially if you get rewards for using it or get benefits...

How do eat your yogurt? When I eat my cup of Greek yogurt, with one lick off the spoon-without too much tongue exposure-I consume my yogurt. I mean, I eat it kind of like a chocolate soft cone from Carvel, not like cereal.

Yeah life is a journey...awaiting my destination, as I’ve been traveling for 11+ years...

Why isn’t there a Wegmans in Yonkers/Bronxville?! You can still shop there through InstaCart App...you get some exotic stuff like Japanese energizing cold green tea in a can...

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samanthasroberts · 7 years ago

Text

Redneck Revolt: the armed leftwing group that wants to stamp out fascism

There are several commonalities between the far left and the far right including a disdain for liberals but the biggest divide is on the topic of intolerance

The cookout offered free food, a face-painting booth and a protest sign-making station a pile of cut-up cardboard boxes, paint markers and rolls of packing tape. A group of neighborhood boys, each no older than 12, gathered around. They wanted signs to tape to their bicycles, so they could ride around and tell Trump what they thought of him.

One grabbed a piece of cardboard and wrote in big letters: TRUMPS A BITCH.

Max Neely quickly stepped in.

Im not sure you should use that word, he said, his voice taking on a fatherly tone. At 6ft2in, he towered over them. That word isnt very respectful to women, and there are a lot of women around here today that we should be respecting. Maybe you can think of another word to use.

The boys conferred. Eventually, they settled on a different, less offensive protest sign at least in Neelys eyes. FUCK TRUMP, it read, followed by four exclamation points.

A 31-year-old activist with long hair and a full bushy beard, Neely had a full day of political activism ahead of him: Donald Trump was in Harrisburg to mark his 100th day in office with a speech at the Pennsylvania Farm Show Complex. In other parts of the city, the liberal opposition were also readying themselves: organizations such as Keystone Progress, Dauphin County Democrats and the local Indivisible group planned to march in protest.

Neelys group were not among them. Instead, they had set up a picnic site in a small park, offering a barbecue and leftist pamphlets. Someone had planted a bright red hammer-and-sickle flag in the grass. On a nearby table hung a black banner that bore the words Redneck Revolt: anti-racist, pro-gun, pro-labor.

Activist Steve Hilditch, who runs a chapter of the Redneck Revolt group. Photograph: Cecilia Saixue Watt

If you havent noticed, we arent liberals, said Jeremy Beck, one of Neelys cookout friends. You know, if you keep going further left, eventually, you go left enough to get your guns back.

Wooly liberals, theyre not. Redneck Revolt is a nationwide organization of armed political activists from rural, working-class backgrounds who strive to reclaim the term redneck and promote active anti-racism. It is not an exclusively white group, though it does take a special interest in the particular travails of the white poor. The organizations principles are distinctly left-wing: against white supremacy, against capitalism and the nation-state, in support of the marginalized.

Pennsylvania is an open-carry state, where gun owners can legally carry firearms in public without concealment. Redneck Revolt members often see the practice of openly carrying a gun as a political statement: the presence of a visible weapon serves to intimidate opponents and affirm gun rights. Many of the cookout attendees owned guns, and had considered bringing them today but ultimately they had decided to come unarmed, in the interest of keeping the event family-friendly.

Redneck Revolt began in 2009 as an offshoot of the John Brown Gun Club, a firearms training project originally based in Kansas. Dave Strano, one of Redneck Revolts founding members, had seized upon what he saw as a contradiction in the Tea Party movement, then in its infancy. Many Tea Party activists were fellow working-class people who had endured significant hardships as a result of the 2008 economic crisis which, in his eyes, had been caused by the very wealthy. And yet, Tea Partiers were now flocking in great numbers to rallies funded by the 1%.

By supporting economically conservative politicians, Strano thought, they would only be further manipulated to benefit the already rich.

The history of the white working class has been a history of being an exploited people, he wrote. However, weve been an exploited people that further exploits other exploited people. While weve been living in tenements and slums for centuries, weve also been used by the rich to attack our neighbors, coworkers, and friends of different colors, religions and nationalities.

Now, eight years later, more than 20 Redneck Revolt branches have sprouted across the US; the groups range widely in size, some with only a handful of members. Max Neely is a member of the Mason-Dixon branch, which encompasses central Pennsylvania as well as his native western Maryland. Many members are white, but the organization seeks to build on a redneck identity beyond race.

I grew up playing in the woods, floating coolers of beer down a river, shooting off fireworks, just generally raising hell, all that kind of stuff, said Neely. Things most people would consider a part of redneck culture. Were trying to acknowledge the ways weve made mistakes and bought into white supremacy and capitalism, but also give ourselves an environment in which its OK to celebrate redneck culture.

The group draws a great deal of inspiration from the Young Patriots Organization, a 1960s-era activist group consisting primarily of white working-class Appalachians and southerners. Im very impressed with Redneck Revolt, said Hy Thurman, one of the early founders of the Young Patriots. I think theyre right on with what theyre trying to do.

The group opposed racism and worked closely with the Black Panthers, but they did make use of the Confederate flag in their recruiting. Thurman explained that it was used only strategically, to start conversations with poor white people who might identify with the symbol.

In the same way that the Young Patriots once used the Confederate flag, Redneck Revolt seeks to employ another emblem of rural America: guns.

Redneck Revolt groups work on providing an explicitly anti-racist presence in rural areas, and focus particularly on gun shows. Many members are from places where guns are relatively normalized, and Neely wants Redneck Revolt to serve as a viable alternative for people who might otherwise join the growing right-wing militia movement.

Since the 1992 Ruby Ridge siege, the US has witnessed an increase in anti-government paramilitary organizations. Oath Keepers, for example, is a militia group that strives to defend the US constitution, which the group believes is under threat by its own government. They claim to be nonpartisan, but its members politics tend to skew far right. During last years presidential election, they announced that members would be monitoring voting booths to prevent election tampering, stating he was most concerned about expected attempts at voter fraud by leftists.

But groups like Oath Keepers have much in common with far leftists: concerns about the infringement of human rights, objections to mass surveillance and the ever reauthorized Patriot Act, anger at the continued struggles of the working poor.

We use gun culture as a way to relate to people, said Neely, whose grandfather was an avid hunter. No liberal elitism. Our basic message is: guns are fine, but racism is not.

Officially, Oath Keepers bylaws prohibit anyone associated with a hate group from joining, though their background checks have proven to be inconsistent at best. But there are other rightwing groups around the explicitly racist kind.

Im worried about Pikeville, said Neely. Ive got friends out there.

KKK members salute next to a pickup truck at a private campground in Whitesburg, Kentucky. Photograph: Pat Jarrett for the Guardian

Pikeville is a small Kentucky town deep in the heart of Appalachia. It has no major airport or interstate, a population of less than 10,000 and an abundance of idyllic mountain scenery. Mining has long been the major industry here, though Pikeville also attracts tourism: mid-April draws over 100,000 visitors to the annual Hillbilly Days festival, a celebration of Appalachian culture and music.

In the week after the festival ended, however, Pikevilles atmosphere had taken a distinct turn. Neo-Nazis were coming to town the same day as Trumps appearance in Harrisburg.

The Nationalist Front an alliance of far-right white nationalist organizations was planning a rally in front of Pikevilles courthouse. Take a stand for white working families, read an invitation that circulated online.

This begins a process of building and expanding our roots within white working class communities to become the community advocates that our people need and deserve, wrote Matthew Heimbach on the Daily Stormer, a neo-Nazi website.

Pike County chronically impoverished, overwhelmingly white is seen as a fertile setting for spreading their ideology. The city of Pikeville itself has actually experienced some growth in the past few years, but the greater area is struggling. Pike Countys unemployment rate is one of the highest in the nation: 10%, more than twice that of the US as a whole.

Trump successfully tapped into this desperation with his pro-labor, anti-immigrant rhetoric and successfully won more than 80% of votes cast. Citing this figure, Heimbach hoped to develop existing pro-Trump sentiments into full-blown national socialism.

Were doing this because we care about the people of Pike County, said Jeff Schoep, head of the neo-Nazi National Socialist Movement, in a video promoting the rally. Weve seen factories shut down, weve seen people losing their jobs, weve seen families getting desperate and reaching out for drugs or other things that they shouldnt be doing. We want to give people hope again. Something worth fighting for.

That something happened to be a white ethno-state, and many Pikeville residents were not interested.

The city approved a permit for the Nationalist Front to gather downtown, citing the constitutional right of free speech and assembly, though Donovan Blackburn, the city manager, also issued a statement promoting peace, respect and diversity.

Students at the University of Pikeville planned a counter-protest, but the event was quickly canceled due to safety concerns: university officials feared that a conflict between the Nationalist Front and members of the antifascist movement or antifa could escalate into violence.

An anti-fascist counter-march to #MarchAgainstSharia in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Photograph: Sean Kitchen

Developed in Europe over the past few decades, antifascists represent the lefts own united front: a conflux of anarchists, communists, social democrats and others, dedicated to stamping out fascism by any means necessary, including violence which they see as a justified response to the inherent violence of fascism. They often employ black bloc tactics, where individuals wear masks and all-black clothing to avoid police identification.

Antifascist groups have never been as prominent in the US as they have been in countries such as Greece, where masked individuals recently smashed the windows of the Golden Dawns headquarters. But in the wake of Trumps election and the ensuing spate of hate crimes, they have swiftly mobilized. A masked man famously punched white nationalist Richard Spencer in Washington DC on Inauguration Day; two weeks later, antifascists lit fires on UC Berkeleys campus in protest of rightwing ideologue Milo Yiannopoulos.

We live in a historical moment where theres unprecedented wealth inequality, and the average person is struggling to get by, said Sidney (not his real name), an Appalachian antifascist who has been keeping a close watch on white nationalist activity in his area. When governments, as they characteristically do, fail to step in, people look to other institutions for an answer. Fascism is having a resurgence because were in that moment. Its not a problem thats going to be solved by leaving it alone. Thats like leaving an infection alone.

A 27-year-old native of West Virginia, Sidney comes from a coal mining family. He splits his time between installing drywall and organizing with Redneck Revolt.

Pikeville really caught my attention, said Sidney. The Traditionalist Worker partys been making real efforts to organize in Appalachia. Im not a Kentuckian, but Im a working-class Appalachian, and it really sticks in my craw.

Rednecks against racism: Anti-fascist protesters in downtown Pikeville. Photograph: Pat Jarrett

To dissuade antifascists, who often wear masks during demonstrations, the Pikeville city commission passed an emergency ordinance that prohibited the wearing of masks or hoods in downtown Pikeville. Anyone above the age of 16 wearing a mask or hood would be subject to 50 days in jail and a $250 fine.

Antifascist demonstrators would have to show their faces, which could be potentially dangerous: neo-Nazi groups have been known to use facial recognition software and other tactics to identify counter-protesters, acquire personal information and subject those identified to further harassment.

At Redneck Revolt, we tend not to cover our faces anyway, said Sidney. We want to make inroads with the community, and its easier if they knew who you are.

But Sidney had a greater concern: Kentucky is another open-carry state and Heimbach had encouraged members of the Nationalist Front to come armed, ahead of possible leftist attacks. At least, however, he would have his own firearm: his Smith and Wesson semi-automatic pistol, which he decided to carry concealed.

A couple locals had expressed to Sidney that they wished they would all go home both neo-Nazis and antifascists.

I cant blame them for feeling like that, said Sidney. Theyve got this huge ideological fight on their doorstep that they didnt ask for.

Regardless, some time after noon, a large group of antifascist protesters some armed, some wearing bulletproof vests headed to the courthouse, ready to face the Nationalist Front.

Instead, they saw only about 10 white nationalists, waiting in a little area that had been fenced off by police. They were members of the League of the South, a group that promotes a renewed attempt at secession from the US. The two major Nationalist Front delegations, the Traditionalist Workers party and the National Socialist Movement, were missing.

Rumor soon spread that they were lost.

Given that theyre not from this region, and they dont represent the people here, its not terribly surprising, said Sidney.

A Pikeville resident argues with Redneck Revolt protesters. Photograph: Pat Jarrett

Back in Harrisburg, a group of six young white nationalist men wearing a uniform of white polo shirts approached Neelys cookout site; they looked like missionaries, clean-shaven with neatly combed hair.

Max Neely approached them and asked, cautiously, whether they were interested in socialism.

No, they responded. They identified themselves as members of Identity Evropa, a white nationalist group that endorses racial segregation and only admits applicants of European, non-Semitic heritage. They had initially supported Trump as a presidential candidate, but were now in Harrisburg to protest him; they were disappointed that he had not yet created a white ethno-state.

Neely wanted to keep them away from the cookout. On another day, in a different setting, some of his associates might have come ready for a fight. But today was meant to be family-friendly, and many of the picnic attendees were young black activists from a local high school. They could handle themselves, Neely knew, but the task of arguing for the legitimacy of your existence against those who deny your humanity is an arduous one.

So while his Redneck Revolt friends kept a careful watch from across the street, Neely let the Identity Evropa members talk more about their ideology about how the US was a nation meant for white people, how white culture was under attack. Neely debated them as politely as he could, hoping his quiet listening could diffuse the situation. They thanked him for being so calm and civil.

Its easy to be calm when youre a white man, said Neely. Its easy when its not your life or your familys lives at stake.

They could not see the back of his shirt, which depicted a hooded figure dangling from a tree, and the words HANG YOUR LOCAL KLANSMAN.

The encounter ended rather decisively: three local teenage girls had chased off the white nationalists.

Resist: a eight-foot-tall sign made by the Redneck Revolt group in Harrisburg. Photograph: Cecilia Saixue Watt

By mid-afternoon, the cookout was in full swing. Nearby residents filled plates with barbecued chicken and strawberries. A neighborhood man looked at the pamphlets that Neely had laid out. Piece Now, Peace Later: An Anarchist Introduction to Firearms, read one title.

Yall trying to overthrow the government? he asked.

Its more about community defense, answered Travis, one of the Redneck Revolt members.

I just wanted to warn you, the man continued. West Philadelphia, 1985. Look what happened to them.

He was talking about the lefts own Ruby Ridge moment: in May 1985, a Philadelphia police helicopter dropped a bomb on to the row house that had served as a headquarters for Move, an armed black liberation group. There were 11 casualties, including the groups founder, John Africa, as well as five children. The resulting fire destroyed 65 houses. A special commission later appointed by the mayor to investigate the incident concluded that the bombing had been unconscionable.

When Neely and other white members of Redneck Revolt claim allyship with movements like Black Lives Matter, they are compelled to acknowledge their whiteness in particular, their ability to carry weapons with impunity.

When Oath Keepers began to patrol rooftops during the 2014 protests in Ferguson, Missouri, their intention was to protect protesters from the police but many activists were alarmed and intimidated by the appearance of heavily armed white men. When Redneck Revolt members show up at black-led protest events, they are generally invited.

They are our security, said Katherine Lugaro, an organizer with This Stops Today, Harrisburgs local iteration of Black Lives Matter. Theyre a wall between us and anyone hateful. They put themselves on the line.

A neo-Nazi demonstrator in Pikeville. Photograph: Pat Jarrett

Back in Pikeville, a full hour after the rally was scheduled to begin, a caravan rolled into the parking lot down the street. Matthew Heimbach and the rest of the neo-Nazis had arrived. Close to 100 people, dressed in head-to-toe black and carrying Nazi insignia, marched up to the courthouse building. Many in the front were visibly armed; others carried wooden shields decorated with swastikas and Norse runes. Someone had brought a shield featuring Pepe the Frog and the words Pepe ber Alles. They sieg-heiled to Heimbach.

They were outnumbered by protesters two-to-one.

Then came a few hours of scheduled neo-Nazi speeches. This turned into a few hours of shouting, as the antifascists attempted to drown out the sound system with drums and jeers. From the midwest to the south, they chanted, punch a Nazi in the mouth.

A handful of Pikeville residents lingered on the other side of the police barricade, listening to the Nationalist Front speeches. But most locals present had trickled in along with the protesters, eventually making up a third of the crowd, and had joined in with the jeering.

They were absolutely the most strident antifascist voices there, said Sidney. Im assuming most of these folks were apolitical, or maybe conservative, but they were drawing a line in the sand.

No injuries, no shots fired; the Nationalist Front finished their speeches and returned to their caravan. A heavy police presence had kept the two groups separated and prevented any opportunity for confrontation. It was over.

Cathi Lyninger of Louisville protests the neo Nazis in Pikeville. Photograph: Pat Jarrett

In Harrisburg, night fell. Max Neely and his band of companions eventually regrouped at a

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/23/redneck-revolt-the-armed-leftwing-group-that-wants-to-stamp-out-fascism/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/09/23/redneck-revolt-the-armed-leftwing-group-that-wants-to-stamp-out-fascism/

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