#please this read him so well i love when these little quizzes are accurate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beccascribbles · 4 years ago

Text

kageyama is failing english so he asks you to tutor him. neither of you were expecting the relationship that formed between you as a result.

warnings - swearing, kissing scene, contains a fair bit of angst

word count - 6.3k

a/n - this was originally meant to be a fluffy oneshot where kageyama falls for the person he asked to tutor him. however, it didn’t really end up that way exactly. i hope you enjoy anyway!

read the sequel - ‘selfish when it comes to you’

It was with hands trembling that he approached your desk, shooting a nervous glance over his shoulder at the small group huddled by the door. Hinata waved his hands in a 'go' gesture, encouraging him to approach you, while Yamaguchi gave him a thumbs up. Tsukishima, despite declaring he was not interested in Kageyama's educational escapades, had come to watch. He just wanted to see the boy fail. Raising an eyebrow, you looked up at the black-haired boy that you had immediately recognised as Kageyama. Who could forget that face when you had watched him get stopped in the corridor to be handed small gifts by blushing girls, and then watched him hand them over to the energetic ginger at his side?

"Can I help you, Kageyama?" you questioned, shocking the poor boy. Nervously, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, avoiding making eye contact with you. His expression was tense, and you were almost certain this was something he had been forced to do. A glance at the doorway confirmed this, his small group of friends unable to move out of view fast enough. Although, truth be told, Tsukishima had not even bothered to hide. It had been Yamaguchi pulling him out of sight behind the wall.

"Um..." he stammered, face burning a bright red. To think he could look so at home on a volleyball court but so awkward when tasked with an actual conversation was laughable to you. "Um, I, um, heard that you were really smart from Tsukishima, and Hinata was pretty much singing your praises earlier this week when you helped him study before a test..."

He trailed off, looking behind him again. You could not help but wonder as to what kind of emotional support he was seeking from them. Hinata was snickering as he whispered something to Yamaguchi, who was red from holding in his laughter. Meanwhile, Tsukishima was just smirking at the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Yeah, I heard Hinata passed that test," you said, leaning around Kageyama to shout to the hallway. "Well done, Hinata! I knew you could do it."

"You really helped, l/n," he shouted back, beaming at you. "If you hadn't broken down the concepts in such an easy way, I never would have been able to understand it."

Kageyama cleared his throat in an attempt to bring your attention back to him. His hands were now stuffed in the pockets of his trousers, and he was focused on some point above your head.

"Yes?"

"I-I was wondering if you would be able to tutor me in English," he stated, stumbling and tripping over his words. A loud snicker from the hallway caused him to spin and glare at the taller boy, who just snickered louder. When he moved as if he were about to head towards him, you reached out and clasped his wrist, stilling him.

"I would love to tutor you. When are you free? We can work around your schedule as much as possible. I know how busy you are, what with volleyball practice and all."

"Does this Saturday work?"

And that was how you found yourself sitting beside the black-haired boy at nine o'clock that Saturday morning. Textbooks, along with his workbook, were strewn along the desk in front of you.

Currently, you were going over what he had covered in class that week to attempt to pick out some weak points. It was clear to you that his memory was good. When you had quizzed him, he was able to recite the grammar rules perfectly. His spelling was so accurate it made you slightly envious. But, when it came to the application of those facts, he was clueless. You read the sentence one last time.

"Can you tell me why this is wrong?" you asked, indicating it on the page with a point of your pen. He looked down at the page, brows furrowing in concentration as he read.

"I think my spelling is correct," he stated, looking over at you for reassurance. You nodded your head, urging him to continue. "Is the word order incorrect?"

You again nodded your head. "Yep, that's correct. Well done, Kageyama! Now, can you tell me why the word order is incorrect?"

He rubbed the back of his head, returning to studying the sentence. His pen followed along with the line of writing. "Instead of using the English sentence structure of subject-verb-object, I used the Japanese sentence structure."

You smiled, extremely pleased at his ability to critique his own work so confidently. "Good. Remind me what the Japanese sentence structure is."

"Subject-object-verb," he replied with a confidence that you weren't expecting.

The rest of the session continued in a similar pattern, with you getting him to critique what was wrong in his own work. You thought that by helping him see what he was doing wrong currently, he would be able to learn from his mistakes and stop himself from making them in the future. This seemed to be having the desired effect, with the pause he needed to work it out shortening the longer you worked.

You glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall. It was twelve o'clock. "Alright, I think it's time to wrap this up for now. Can you do the same time next week?"

He nodded in affirmation, beginning to gather up the textbooks to return them to the shelf they had been taken from. You hadn't really needed them due to his knowledge of the basics, so they had simply been on the table to take up space. While he put the books away, you gathered your stuff together to put in your bag, also putting his stuff in a neat pile that he could pack away when he returned. Upon his return, he quickly packed them away, slinging his bag over his shoulder once be had finished. Awkwardly, he pulled at the strap.

"Would you like to get some lunch?" he asked, gaze settling on a slight crack in the wall behind you. "Just as a thanks for helping. Not like as a date or anything."

"Relax," you laughed, patting his arm lightly as you walked past him. "I didn't think it was a date and, now that you mentioned it, I would love to get lunch with you."

It took him a moment to process your words, and the fact that you were already walking towards the exit. Hurriedly, he walked after you, his long strides easily allowing him to catch up. You turned to him with a wide grin, "So, what's the plan? You got a specific place in mind?"

He found himself returning your grin. It was infectious. "Not really. But I'll think of something."

From your first tutoring session onward, it became something of a routine to get lunch together afterwards, leading to the formation of an easy friendship. While Kageyama could still be slightly awkward at times, his habit of blushing furiously had diminished slightly. He genuinely enjoyed the conversations with you. You listened with rapt attention when he ranted about volleyball, a fact that warmed him to his core. It was rare to talk to someone who didn't automatically act uninterested when the topic turned to what he was passionate about. But you admired that passion. You encouraged it. And, like you encouraged his passion, he encouraged yours.

At one of your lunches together, you had let it slip that you were currently working on a novel, just a light-hearted way for you to let your creativity flow. It had never been your intention to write for someone else to enjoy. It was just an escape for you, something you found enjoyment in. Something you were passionate about. Your novel was only a passion project.

"Tomorrow, I'm probably just going to work on my novel," you said in response to Kageyama's question. He had just finished telling you his plans for Sunday (it consisted of a lot of volleyball specific training to fine tune his skills as a setter, and also a run - which he had invited you to join him on one time only for you to immediately refuse) and then enquired after yours.

"Your novel?" he questioned. "You're writing a book?"

"No, no, it's nothing serious," you chuckled awkwardly. This time it was you desperately trying not to make eye contact. "It's only for fun. Like a little passion project."

"For fun?" he said, searching for your gaze across the table. Finally, your eyes dropped to meet his deep blue eyes. "I think it's really cool that you've got something you're passionate about."

Those were almost the exact same words you had said to Kageyama when he had tripped his way through an apology after going on about volleyball for an hour.

"Oh..."

It came out on an exhalation of breath. For most of your life, you had hidden the books you had written, terrified of judgement. Yet here Kageyama was telling you that it was cool. "Um, I can show it to you if you want. Maybe you could read it? Tell me what you think?"

He nodded his head in response. "What's it about?"

You launched into an explanation, not only outlining the plot, but also providing him with the main character's backstory, along with their planned arc. He just listened, nodding his head. The way you were so animated pulled him in, making him admire you even more as a person. It was hard to find people with a true passion, and here were two people with a lot of it.

The friendship you formed was so easy and comfortable to be in for the both of you that you gravitated towards each other. At school, it became rare to see you apart during the break times. It wasn't uncommon for Kageyama to show up outside your class with two cartoons of milk, one for you and the other for him, before you followed him out to the courtyard where you would just sit and chat. Sometimes, you would poke your head into their volleyball practice if you had stayed late in the library. It was always to say goodbye to him but ended with him telling you to wait for him so he could walk home with you. On those days, Daichi always thanked you for stopping Kageyama from practising more.

During the weekends, your tutoring sessions had now moved from the neutral ground of the library to one of your houses. He would host one week, with you hosting the next. If it were at his house, you could guarantee that you would be roped in to helping him with some form of volleyball practice after, leaving you sweaty and in need of a shower. Therefore, Kageyama now had a drawer in his room specifically for you to leave spare clothes in. If it was at your house, after tutoring, you read the next part of your novel to him as he listened, his head resting against your thigh. He would always give you his opinion, managing to explain why he had liked certain parts. Then, you would convince him to watch a film with you. Sometimes it would be a comedy, other times it would be a volleyball documentary.

When Hinata had found out that you had a drawer of your things at Kageyama's place, he had become almost unbearable.

Kageyama had let it slip while he was talking to you about your plans for the weekend, telling you it wasn't necessary to bring any more spare clothes when you visited due to the amount already occupying the drawer. Hinata had chosen that moment to walk up to you.

"Why would Kageyama have your clothes at his?" asked Hinata. Both you and Kageyama paused, sharing a look that Hinata automatically read the wrong way. "Oh my god! Are you dating? No way! There's no way Kageyama would ever find some who would want to date him."

"No!"

"We're not dating!"

You both snapped in unison, blushing profusely. Kageyama glared at the smaller boy, "We're just friends, boke. Stop making a big deal out of nothing."

By the time you were in your third year, everyone just assumed you were dating. You attended all his volleyball games wearing his jersey, would occasionally wait for him to finish practice before going home together and were always with each other. He supported you, always there to cheer you on at a school related event or writing competition. He had, after all, been the one who had encouraged you to enter your first writing contest, where you had won runner-up. The photo of you grinning while holding your certificate was one of his favourites. It was also his lock screen photo. Coincidentally, your lock screen was also a photo of him. It was after he was told that he would be representing Japan in the u19s team. He had looked so happy in that moment that you still felt proud of him whenever you saw the photo. You were also both very affectionate with each other considering you were ‘only’ friends. After breaking through the initial awkwardness he felt at physical closeness, being close to you, touching you, brought him reassurance. He would always have an arm slung over your shoulder as you walked. When sitting, he would always be pressed against you, his body warm where it touched yours. In private, it was common for you just to cuddle. As you watched a film, he would have his arms wrapped around you as you rested on his chest.

There was also the small fact that neither of you had entertained the idea of dating someone during high school. Both of you had been asked out multiple times, only for the answer to be no. It was easy for people to assume Kageyama was just too focused on volleyball to be in a relationship that would require so much of his attention. In your case, people found it odd that you had not even gone on a date. Naturally, they just assumed that Kageyama was your boyfriend, so the confessions of love stopped for the both of you. You were not oblivious as to why they had stopped but decided not to deny the claims. It was easier for people to think you were in a relationship.

Kageyama, as much as he hated himself for it, would sometimes find himself wishing that were the case. He could not deny that he was attracted to you. Wherever you were, his eyes were drawn to you. They would follow you around a room, enticed by the way you moved. And, when you were finally close enough to touch, he was unable to stop himself from reaching out and pulling you towards him. It was definite that his own actions had fuelled the rumours. Most of your potential suitors had been on the receiving end of a cold glare from the setter at your side. However, despite this desire for you, he told himself he would never act on it. This was partly due to volleyball. He could admit that your friendship was distracting enough, able to pull him away from the sport with ease. Entering a relationship with you would make it harder, and he could not let that happen. Volleyball was the most important thing in his life. You would always be second, as much as he might want you or need you to be there with him.

For the most part, you were unaware of his feelings. Or, at the very least, you acted like you were. You could acknowledge that he was both overly protective and affection with you considering he claimed to only view you as a close friend. The glares he directed at people had not gone unnoticed by you, especially as they had always been accompanied by the tightening of his arm around you. Equally, you could not deny that his behaviour towards you made you feel giddy. You could not deny that feeling his arm wrap around you to pull you against him made your heart race, or how the sight of him made your breath catch. You could not deny that having his support meant everything to you. But you also could not deny that his attachment to volleyball would override any feelings towards you, no matter how strong they were.

“You need to tell him to stop,” Ichika said, giving you a pointed look. She could see how much you cared for him, how much this affection for him was slowly destroying you. “The way he��s acting is unacceptable. If he’s not going to date you himself, he should stop being so damn possessive.”

You looked up from your coffee. Her words had struck a chord in you. You knew his behaviour was unacceptable, but you let it continue in the hope that it would transform into what you wanted: for Kageyama to finally act on his feelings for you. “Don’t you think I know that? I know it’s bad. I know I should tell him to stop. But I can’t help thinking that if I let it continue, he may finally realise what’s been staring us in the face for the past two-and a-bit years.”

You were so close to breaking. You could feel your eyes beginning to burn from suppressed tears. Again, you looked down at your coffee, hoping that focusing on a specific point would stop the tears from forcing their way out. Ichika reached out a hand to touch yours gently.

“Come on, y/n,” she practically pleaded. “This isn’t healthy, and you know it. The relationship you have with Kageyama now isn’t good for either of you. You can’t let him control you like this.”

“Control me?” you snapped, pulling your hand out of your friend’s hold. “He’s not controlling me. He would never do that to me. You know as well as me that he struggles with his feelings and how to express them. If I told him how I felt, I know he’d stop. But I don’t want him to. If I tell him, he’ll pull away. I’d rather keep him like this than risk not having him at all.”

“y/n, sit back down,” said Ichika, looking up at you. During your rant, you had risen from your seat. You were visibly shaking, whether from anger at what your friend was insinuating or frustration at the truth of your relationship with Kageyama you could not tell. The tears you had worked so hard to suppress were freely rolling down your cheeks.

“No,” you said, turning to walk away. “I think I’m going to go home. I don’t really feel like talking anymore. I’ll see you at school on Monday.”

You walked out, hands fumbling for your phone. As much as he was the cause for your tears right now, it was his comfort you craved. So, you called him. He picked up on the first ring, sounding breathless as if you had interrupted his training. His greeting was unusually harsh. Shit. You had forgotten that the volleyball team had arranged an extra practice session today to prepare for nationals.

“Tobio...” you said, voice cracking. It was clear you were crying. Your voice was thick with emotion. All he could hear were your sobs in his ear. “I’m sorry. I forgot you were busy. I’ll just call... actually, I don’t know who else I’d call.”

Your laugh was bitter, and the concern he felt for you hit him with so much force he almost keeled over. You had not even told him what you needed yet, and he was already beginning to gather all of his things together. “What is it, y/n? What happened? Where are you?”

“I’m walking to yours from the cafe close by.” Another sob escaped your lips. “I just need to see you.”

He remembered you telling him that you had planned to meet Ichika there for a drink and a chat. You were unsure as to why she had wanted to have a chat, and he could clearly recall you saying that your friend looked very serious when she had asked to meet up. “I’ll be home soon. Just use the key I gave you to go in... What did Ichika tell you?”

That caused you to pause. He heard your breathing still through the phone. What could Ichika possibly have said that would have made you so upset? You interrupted his chain of thought when you spoke again. “It’s not important, Tobio.”

“Not important?” he snapped, fist clenching around his phone. “If it’s not important, then why are you fucking cry? Why did you call me during volleyball practice?”

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed. The sound made his heart crack, almost breaking through his sudden haze of anger. “I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. It’s not a big deal. I’m just getting upset over nothing.”

“Fine.” His voice had changed again, becoming cold. “If it’s nothing, I’ll see you when I finish practice.”

You heard the stuff he had begun to gather clatter to the floor before he hung up. He chucked his phone back in his open bag, turning to face his friends. The rest of the team were still training, but they had stopped, turning to look at him as soon as he had begun to collect his things, the concern evident in his voice and the lines of his body.

“What was that about, Kageyama?” asked Hinata, looking at his friend with concern. Though his voice had been cold before he had hung up on you, Hinata could still see the conflict on his friend’s face. Concern for you was evident in the set of his face, but his need to improve outweighed your obvious need for him in that moment. “l/n is clearly really upset. Why are you still here?”

“You can go to her if you want,” said Yamaguchi. “You know Coach won’t mind. Plus, recently, you’ve been spending more time here than usual. Missing the end of this practice session won’t affect you at all.”

“Let’s just get back to practice.”

Kageyama walked back over to serve again, ignoring the concerned looks his friends shared. Even Tsukishima was worried, his eyes scanning Kageyama as if trying to gauge his emotional state. Throughout the rest of training, guilt gnawed at Kageyama’s conscience. His mind kept drifting to you, your sobs, the way your voice cracked. But he was too stubborn to leave now, too obsessed with improving in volleyball to waste his concern on you. However, as soon as training ended, he was the first to leave, sprinting out of the school.

Before heading home, he grabbed some of your favourite comfort foods, barely even acknowledging that it was physically impossible to eat the amount of food he had shoved into his bag in one sitting. When he entered his house, he headed straight to his room, knowing that was where you were most likely to be.

What he was not expecting was the sight that greeted him. You were curled up on his bed, hugging his pillow to your chest. But that was not what sent a spike of hot desire running through him. You were only wearing his jumper, your clothes neatly folded on the floor at the foot of his bed. In your curled-up position, his jumper just covered your arse, leaving your bare legs on display. It was clear you were fast asleep. With a sigh, he placed the bag of food gently on the floor before reaching for a blanket and placing it over your sleeping form. He brushed a kiss to the top of your head. Then, he left the room to wash.

Once he returned, dressed more comfortably topless and in a pair of loose-fitting joggers, he made his way back over to you, sitting beside your sleeping form on his bed. He brushed your hair away from your face, treasuring the soft feel of your skin against the pads of his fingers. He wanted to lie down with you, to pull you against his chest and curl around you. He wanted to protect you from everything that could hurt you, not realising the main person responsible for that was him, no matter how much you struggled to admit it. But something stopped him from lying down beside you and holding you in his arms.

He had added to your hurt. His sudden anger had not been towards you, though it had been directed your way. Though he had not meant to hurt you then, he knew that he had. But he also knew that incident would not be held against him. It was when he had deliberately made his voice go cold, telling you that he would not be there to comfort you anytime soon. In the back of his head, he knew you were clearly not upset about nothing, that it was important. Hearing you talk like that after interrupting his practice, however, had made him snap. He should not have done it. He should have come running to you. If he was not so obsessed with volleyball...

Kageyama pulled away from you, getting up from the bed. As he turned away to search for a futon to put on the floor, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You croaked softly, “Tobio, can you hold me?”

And your relationship continued in much the same way, the incident of that day largely forgotten, your feelings on the matter remained suppressed. Both of you only had eyes for each other, but neither of you were inclined to speak those feelings aloud. Finally, you graduated from Karasuno, both still firmly attached to each other.

All those hidden feelings eventually fulminated at the graduation party Hinata had decided to host, inviting former members of the Karasuno Volleyball Club along with people from rival teams. Kageyama had asked you to come with him, so you had entered the party on his arm to chorus of ‘so you’re finally together?’ and statements echoing that sentiment. You had had to shake your head, forcing a smile on your face as you jokingly dismissed the claims.

“No, we’re just friends,” you said. “This boy has only got one thing on his mind and that’s volleyball.”

You were unaware of how incorrect that statement was. Since he had secured a spot with the Schweiden Adlers following graduation, his mind had been drifting to you more often. Truth be told, you were often all he could think about - your figure, your touch, your smile. As selfish as it was, he wanted you like this, with him, for as long as you would have him.

Kageyama forced a laugh at your words, not seeing the hurt look in your eyes as he unwittingly agreed with your statement.

“I don’t know why you’re not dating yet,” sighed Sugawara, swaying slightly as he walked up to you. “After he called asking me for advice, I thought he was finally aware of his attraction for you.”

“What?” You blinked at Sugawara, needing a moment to digest his words. Then you spun to face Kageyama. “You what?”

“I’m not attracted to you, y/n,” spat Kageyama, shrugging you off him. “You know as well as I do. We’re only friends... and that’s all we’re ever going to be.”

“Hey...” said Sugawara, fumbling for a way to stop this from escalating. It was clear that Kageyama’s words stemmed from his fear that acting on his feelings would affect his volleyball in some way. Meanwhile, you looked close to crumbling, Kageyama’s last statement highlighting how pointless your feelings towards him were. “Maybe you two should walk away before this escalates.”

“You know what, Kageyama?” you snapped back, the emotions you had been holding back bursting out of you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and your fingernails bit into the skin of your palm. “Fuck off. I’m done with this, whatever this is.”

With that, you spun around, storming further into the party. Kageyama quickly lost sight of your figure in the sea of volleyball players. His cheeks felt wet. He was shaking, all control over his body gone as he launched a punch at the wall to his left. Skin ruptured. Glancing down at his fist revealed split knuckles and blood welling up from the cracks.

“Fuck.”

You pushed through the people, desperately searching for anything to help you feel less empty inside. Less broken. Alcohol. That was your answer. Your gaze landed on a table that looked close to collapsing due to the amounts of bottles on it. No one would miss one measly bottle. Not fully aware of who might be watching you, you grabbed the largest one, took off the cap, and drank from it deeply. The liquid burned your throat, a welcoming distraction from the numbness you were currently drowning in.

This time you pushed through the crowd holding the neck of a bottle, looking for somewhere to collapse. Your eyes landed on the open back door. Perfect. The cool air against your skin made you shiver, causing you to pull the jacket tighter around your form. You studied the black denim. It was Kageyama’s jacket. A bitter laugh escaped your mouth. How fucking typical that you were still relying on him to help you, even if it was just his jacket. Actions guided by nothing more than hatred at your own inability to do anything without him, you ripped it off you, throwing it down beside you.

Without his jacket to ward against the chill, you realised how cold it was. You simply shrugged, raising the bottle to your lips in the hopes that the bite of the alcohol would fight away the cold. When a jacket dropped on your shoulders, you barely registered it.

“l/n, come inside,” said the voice beside you. Vaguely, you recognised it as Tsukishima’s. Blearily, you tilted your head to look up at him. “It’s cold. You’re going to catch a fever or something.”

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you slurred, slipping your arms into the sleeves of his jacket. It was warm. You snuggled further into the warmth. He just rolled his eyes at you, grabbing you from underneath your arms and pulling you to your feet. You stumbled into him, feeling wobbly and unfocused. “Shit, I think I’m drunk.”

“Nope, you’re obviously completely sober.” His voice was dry, the sarcasm in his tone clear. You shot him a glare, poking your tongue out at him. He observed with a hint of superiority in his tone of voice, “Now, that was childish.”

“I don’t care,” you pouted. “I’m drunk and upset.”

Wrapping an arm around his, you leaned on him heavily as he walked with you back into the party. Barely audible above the noise, you mumbled, “I want Tobio. I really love him… Why does he always hurt me?”

To be honest, hearing you like this made Tsukishima’s chest ache. He had his doubts about your relationship with Kageyama, had taken to observing the dynamic between you two. For quite some time, he had seen the hurt that waited just beneath the surface, the way your eyes would suddenly become unfocused when you came to watch Kageyama practice. It was clear you were thinking back to that day, the way he had addressed you so coldly and emphasised the importance of volleyball over your well-being.

Kageyama watched you with Tsukishima from across the room, his right-hand throbbing with pain. After Daichi had helped Kageyama clean it up, he had told him to go home. Kageyama had refused. Despite the words you had spat at him, he could not leave until he knew you were safe. He had watched you, watched as you attempted to drown your sorrows in alcohol. He knew he probably should have approached you, offered to take you home before you got too drunk. It was clearly past that point now. You were clinging onto Tsukishima as if your life depended on it. This made him grit his teeth in annoyance. It should have been him there to support you. Although, if he had not lost his temper with you earlier simply because he was in love with you, none of this would have happened.

He strode across the room towards Tsukishima, powered by some urge to be the one to take care of you like he had been doing since that first tutoring session. “I’m going to take y/n home.”

“Do you really think she wants to be anywhere near you right now?” questioned Tsukishima, glancing down at you briefly. At the sound of Kageyama’s voice, you had let out a breathy moan, fingers twitching on his arm as if you wanted to reach out to him.

“Tobio…” you mumbled, clearly drunk. You removed your arm from Tsukishima’s, reaching out for Kageyama. “I need you. Please. Don’t leave me. I need you.”

I need you.

The words rang around his head as he curled a protective arm around your waist. You were turned into him, nose pressed against the material of his shirt. One of your hands gripped his shirt tightly, fingers curling in the thin material. He began to walk away with you towards his car. Even if this whole situation had not happened, it was still his turn to be the designated driver.

Silently, he helped you into the passenger seat, buckling your seat belt and brushing a soft kiss to your cheek before shutting the car door and making his way to the driver’s side. He opened the door, sliding into the seat and looking over at you once more to double-check that you were strapped in. Much to his surprise (and slight annoyance), you had decided to unbuckle the seat belt. He huffed, leaning over to grab the belt, “Seriously, y/n.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stilling his movement. Slowly, you brought his hand down to rest on the smooth skin of your exposed thigh. Kageyama froze, his gaze flickering to yours. Your face was so close to his he could feel the heat of your breath against his lips. Gently, almost teasingly, you rubbed the tip of your nose against his. He let loose a breath he did not realise he had been holding, allowing the pad of his thumb to begin rubbing smooth circles on your thigh. While his fingers dance across your skin, you grazed your finger along his jawline, the other hand reaching up to tangle in his hair. Unable to help yourself, feeling needy, just wanting him, you leant in, letting your lips brush against his. Once. Twice. On the third time, Kageyama’s restraint broke, the hand on your thigh tightening while the other went to the nape of your neck, pulling you into him harshly.

His lips pushed against yours, the swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip enough for you to open for him. He tasted you. Greedily. Hungrily. His tongue tangling with yours teasingly as the kiss deepened. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you from your seat beside him. You clambered over the gear stick, falling into his lap. The kiss broke momentarily as you adjusted your position, straddling him, both hands clutching onto his black hair. You did not have to wait long until his lips were back on yours, hands trailing down to grasp at your arse as he strained upwards in his seat to push his clothed centre into yours. The moan you let out against his lips did not go unnoticed, and he ground upwards into you, eliciting another soft groan. You pulled away slightly, stuttering out his name, “T-T-Tobio. Fuck.”

Your breath carried with it the stench of alcohol, seeming to pull him to his sense. Suddenly he released you, causing you to flop forward against him, hands still clutching his hair. Your head was pressed against his shoulder. “Tobio?”

He lifted you off him, returning you to your seat beside him. Without looking at you, he put your seat belt back on, trying to avoid touching you, afraid the feel of your skin and the way you were looking at him, eyes dark with desire, would cause him to snap again.

“Tobio?” you questioned again, voice painfully soft, as if you feared his reaction. “Do you not want me?”

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Fuck. Of course, I want you. You don’t know how much I crave you. How much my thoughts end up drifting to you.”

“Then why’d you stop?”

“Because I can’t,” he said, the words physical paining him to speak. “You’re a distraction. One I can’t afford as much as I want it.”

A broken sob escaped your lips. But he did not reach over to offer you comfort, as much as he might have wanted to. And, although that night ended with you sleeping at his house, the next morning, there was a noticeable wall up between you. The once easy affection you shared was unwanted, Kageyama maintaining physical distance with you as much as possible.

And, though it pained you to admit, your relationship was never the same after that. It was never easy. It was never comfortable. It was tense, awkward even. Though you parted ways as friends, him going to the Schweiden Adlers and you off to university, it was as if a fundamental part of your relationship was broken. It was unlikely that part could ever be repaired.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyu oneshot #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #tobio scenarios #tobio imagine #kageyama x reader #kageyama imagine #kageyama angst #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama x you #kageyama x y/n

337 notes · View notes

taelme · 5 years ago

Text

Boyfriend!Eric

request: Hello, can you make a fluffy date scenario with eric from the boyz

genre: established relationship!au, boyfriend!Eric, school!au ( just a cute lil fluffy amusement park date with eric! )

pairing/s: Eric / Reader (ft mentions of Sunwoo)

word count: 4k

tw: none!! pure fluff

How do you know you're in deep?

The answer seemed simple, straightforward almost, to everyone around him. I mean, it was everywhere. Those buzzfeed quizzes that would tell you if you're crushing hard on someone, or those 'Are you really in love with them?' magazine columns he saw at the hairdressers. Even the 'How to tell you're in love, according to science' articles he would chance upon online.

Eric wasn't a stranger to them, having been sent them many times by his friends who had loved to make fun of just how in love he was with you, but Eric would always claim that his love for you was different, (which usually just elicited more teasing from them). He was always insistent that it was something the articles would never be able to summarise accurately, which was why he’d figured he’d be better off coming up with his own list. His own hand-picked (quite literally) list to justify why, or how he knew that he was just so…crazy about you.

Firstly, he knew that he loved being with you, no matter what you were doing, and he knew that time with you, was definitely time well spent to him.

"There's no escape now, I've got you booked for the whole day. Tell Sunwoo to leave you alone,” he spoke over his shoulder as he was busy leading you into the park, “say you’re busy spending your well-deserved, long-awaited quality time with your boyfriend.”

There was a trace of triumphance to his tone as he pulled you into one of the first stores near the entrance. The smell of too-sweet caramel popcorn took your attention away from your phone as you glanced around the shop, Eric practically bulldozing towards the cashier.

It was your idea to go to the amusement park for a date, since all those articles on how to ‘spice up your relationship’ were starting to get to you, a tiny fear in you that Eric was bored of just hanging out at cafés or either of your houses as dates.

"Sunwoo's asking about our project, it's important," you dismissed his request, "and don't get too much, we're not eating popcorn for lunch," you gave him a knowing look, turning your stare back to your texts, mumbling as you tried to read what Sunwoo had sent you.

"Should I get the medium or the large size?" Eric hummed, "large, right?"

You hummed, preoccupied with your phone, typing out your reply to Sunwoo.

10:56am -yeah the formatting is correct, u can go ahead and submit it, i checked to make sure all our info was inside this morning already-

"Hey, did you hear me?"

You shoved your phone in your pocket, looking up to be met with a very pouty Eric, pointing at the glass casings holding the popcorn, pulling his finger back with a hiss when it'd gotten too hot to touch.

Huffing, you'd pressed your lips together tightly, your hand coming up to cover your mouth.

"Don't laugh, that really hurt," Eric huffed, holding his reddening fingertip up to show you, though he couldn't help but smile as well.

You hummed in acknowledgement, "wouldn't have happened if you were paying attention."

Eric gave you a feigned look of malice, reaching his hand out to grab yours, caging you in a hug (you'd desperately tried to peel him off at the sight of the cashier's smile), "how could I? I was too busy paying attention to you not paying attention to me."

Rolling your eyes, you'd turned around in his hold, so his hands were resting on the small of your back, scrunching your nose up and gesturing to the popcorn cases, "medium."

"I knew you were gonna say that,” Eric grinned, (finally) letting go of you and turning to the cashier with a smile, his voice raising in pitch as he spoke to them, his ‘stranger’ voice, you liked to call it.

"Hi, can I get um the caramel popcorn? Medium sized, please," pulling his beat-up wallet from his pocket and fishing whatever spare change he had inside, making you shoot him a look.

"Sorry," you apologised to the cashier on his behalf, the sight of the amount of coins Eric was pulling out making you avert your gaze, pretending to be busy with looking at the little plastic buckets they would give for bigger orders.

"Have a nice day," you heard the cashier speak, turning back to Eric who had taken the packet from the cashier, already opening it as he nodded his head at them.

"Thank you, you too," he greeted.

On your way out of the shop, you'd grabbed a map of the theme park, spreading it open as Eric had very unceremoniously shoved the popcorn against your lips, making you open them absently as you focused on the map.

“We could go to the rides at the far end first, ‘cause those tend to get crowded quickly…” you hummed, using your finger to plan out a route in your head.

Eyeing you curiously, Eric couldn’t help but wrack his brain for options on how to make the most of his day with you, and he figured step one would be getting your attention off that map you were so busy studying.

Waving the bag of popcorn over the map, blurring the sight of it for you, Eric tried not to grin too much when he’d successfully directed your attention towards him, despite the small sulky pout on your lips.

“They have a dinosaur show in 10 minutes,” you told him, thinking you’d managed to direct his attention away from your map when you earned a wide-eyed look from him, only to have him pull the map from your hands swiftly, folding it back and shoving it into his pocket.

“No more map, please,” he pouted, still shoving popcorn into his mouth, “c’mon, I’ve been to this place a thousand times! And it’s been a while since we actually went out for a date,” he gave you a pleading look as he was already headed towards the Jurassic Park area.

“Let’s just do whatever we want today, okay? And not worry about the long lines, or where the bathroom is because there’s literally a bathroom every five steps you walk here. Don’t worry, okay? Let’s just…have fun, hmm?”

Eric held up a piece of popcorn just in front of your lips as a peace offering, and you had to admit, his offer was very tempting. It had been a while since you’d just let yourself be in the moment with him without worrying about making things perfect, maybe today would be one of those days.

Taking hold of his wrist gently, you’d let him feed you the popcorn as a silent sign of agreement, his smile growing as you did so.

“Thank you," he murmured,

Secondly, this wasn't anything from a magazine, but you knew Eric was a sucker for cute things. And maybe, he was finding that you took the top place on that list of cute things.

You tugged gently on the fabric of Eric’s hoodie, him turning to you with raised eyebrows.

“Hey, um... don’t you think it’d be a better idea to just like...skip this ride and get something to eat?” you blurted out.

Eric gave you a look, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips as he gave you a thoughtful shrug, his arms going to grab the railing you were leaning against, caging you in place.

“That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea, but weren’t you just talking about how full you were?” he winced. Eric could see right through you, you always loved this ride when you were done riding it, but it was always the waiting that got the better of you.

“Yeah, you know, maybe I’m just not in the mood for all that zombie business today,” you huffed sheepishly, directing your gaze towards his necklace, not wanting to let your imagination get carried away the more you looked at the creepy decorations and the eerie music they were playing.

Eric shook his head, “It’s fine, it’s just the long wait that’s making you nervous. Don't be scared, it’s not real,” he couldn’t help but giggle, making you writhe in place, your anxiousness making you want to move around. He would never admit this to you, but he was getting a little creeped out by the lack of proper lighting in the place, but being with you was making it a lot less nerve-racking for him.

“I know, I just hate the atmosphere,” you glanced at the picture of the too-realistic zombie behind Eric, “just wish the line would just move faster,” you sighed.

This made Eric scrunch his nose out of sheer affection for you, giving you a nod. Pausing for a mere moment, Eric couldn’t help but grab your waist abruptly, letting out a small shout to scare you, making you jump with a yelp, attracting looks of curiosity from the people waiting on either side of you.

You tilted your head back, slumping against the railing and feeling as though your energy had just dissipated from your body, letting out a frustrated whine, yet being able to laugh at yourself for how startled you’d gotten.

“I hate you,” you sighed, making Eric scrunch his nose, his hand coming up to smooth down your hair where it had gotten messed up in your shock, “It’s not funny,” you huffed.

Your glare hadn’t stopped Eric from laughing, simply shaking his head and nodding patronisingly at you, something in him reminding himself not to let himself get too carried away with how you leaned into his touch ever so slightly as he smoothed your hair down.

“It’s a little funny, you gotta admit," he insisted, “you're cute.”

You shook your head, despite the good-natured smile on your face, "yeah, and you're mean."

Later on, when you were being ushered to take your seat on the ride, you’d initially gone in first, the anticipation of the ride making you look at Eric with a panicked look on your face, making Eric’s lips pull into a smile.

“Got it,” he chuckled, letting you go over him as he swapped seats with you.

“Are you scared?” You heard him ask, already being able to feel your heart’s rapid beats in your chest, feeling as though it was about to burst with how hard it was pounding, nodding at him as you pushed the safety bar down even more, desperate for something to hold on to to feel more secure.

If Eric wasn’t mildly scared himself, he would’ve found the sight a thousand times more endearing than he already did, simply holding his hand out for you to take, making you let out a shaky sigh, taking his hand, sparing him a glance as he rolled his shoulders back, his other hand fiddling with his hair.

You’d felt him start to drum his fingers on your knuckles just as the ride had started to move.

“It’s starting, it’s starting,” he teased, more preoccupied with looking at your reaction than the ride, his ring on his other hand making a clinking noise as he tapped the seatbelt, fairly amused at the way you’d scrunched your eyes shut as you approached the drop.

Eric couldn’t help but laugh during the ride, his laughter oddly sticking out amongst the others on the ride who were (similarly to you) screaming their heads off, the way you were holding onto his hand for dear life and laughing in spite of yourself seeming awfully endearing to him.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” he’d told you after the ride, the look on your face and the mess of your hair making Eric’s hand come up to pinch your cheek gently, taking his lower lip between his teeth as he shook his head at you.

You let out a sigh, nodding, a smile slowly making your way onto your face, still not letting go of his hand, “can we go take a break now? My legs feel like jelly.”

Eric swooned internally, nodding at you, he was sure those love quizzes were starting to get to him, feeling as though his feelings for you were only growing with each passing day of being your boyfriend.

“Of course, cutie.”

You let out a strangled sound of embarrassment, "you're gross, Eric."

Thirdly, Eric liked having plans, he did well with plans, it made him feel safer in a sense, knowing that there was a sense of order to the events of his day, but for some reason, whenever he was with you, that didn’t seem to matter as much.

“Shit, Eric, it’s raining,” you’d glanced out the window of the little retro themed ice cream shop you were currently grabbing a snack with Eric at, your tone doing nothing to hide your disappointment.

Eric was mid-bite (yes, bite) into his ice cream, glancing out at the window and watching the rain beating against the paved road yet not feeling as disappointed as he thought he would have felt.

“Sorry,” you frowned, “I knew we said we’d just have fun here for the whole day but now that it’s raining…” you munched on your ice cream cone with a small sigh, your shoulders slouched as you glared outside the window.

You knew this would most likely end you up back at your house, watching movies with Eric like any time the both of you hung out, which had only served to make you feel more disappointed.

Eric let out an amused huff through his nose, licking the ice cream off of his lips and tilting his head at you in an awfully calm manner.

You weren’t sure what to make of it, feeling bad for the fact that you seemed to be a lot more upset about it than he was, your eyes widening and eyebrows raising expectantly as you awaited his response.

“It’s okay, you know, we’re still spending time together,” he offered, “why don’t we take a bus back? By the time we get back the rain would probably have stopped, and we could just watch something on the bus to kill time.” Shrugging, he’d given you a reassuring smile, finishing up his ice cream before he reached over to take a wet tissue from the packet you’d left on the table.

You were glad for Eric in times like this, for how he’d reminded you that things like these weren’t the end of the world, and how he’d managed to stir in you that familiar feeling of reassurance that you were so used to feeling whenever you were with him.

You threw aside whatever disappointment you had left in you, giving him a decisive nod, mirroring the smile he gave you unconsciously.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

And so that was what had resulted in the both of you running to the bus stop outside the theme park, giggling uncontrollably as the rain had pattered against your heads. Eric trying (but failing) to cover your head with his hand as you ran, making you burst into another bout of laughter when his efforts proved futile.

You were both already starting to slow down, tired from running. Turning to look at the bus that was approaching, you frowned, "wait, isn't that our bus?"

Eric squinted, letting out a groan when he realised that it definitely was your bus.

"Think we can make it if we run?" he asked, already increasing his walking pace.

"I guess, okay, let's do it."

"Okay, go!"

The two of you had only ran faster, panting and smiling like a pair of idiots upon boarding the bus just in time, turning to greet the bus driver with a brief nod as you paid your fare.

Grabbing your hand, he'd led you to a seat near the back of the bus, taking the window seat and pulling you down to sit next to him, already taking his phone and his earbuds out from his pocket.

"Music or movie?"

You hummed, shrugging, "both sound fine to me."

Eric pressed his lips together firmly in thought jutting them out in a slight pucker, "okay, pick left or right," he'd held his hand out, showing you two of his fingers.

"This one," you tapped his index finger, earning a satisfied hum from him.

"Movie it is, then."

Knowing Eric, there were only a select few movies he'd downloaded on his phone, and most of them were thriller movies. But even despite that, you'd found yourself starting to grow tired as you watched the movie, Eric's focused demeanour serving to make you feel even more calm, the moving of the bus starting to lull you into sleep.

Eric had turned to you at one of the particularly exciting parts, a small smile playing at his lips when he saw the way your head was leaning forward, your eyes closed and your arm growing limp from where it was linked with his.

Raising his hand carefully, he'd pushed your head gently, letting you rest your head upon his shoulder, feeling you stir awake, lifting your head and blinking at him in confusion.

"It's okay," he whispered, not even sure why he was whispering as he'd pushed your head back onto his shoulder, his thumb smoothing over your hair gently, making you lean into him more, unapologetically using him as your pillow.

Eric had expected himself to be a tired once you'd reached your house, but on the contrary, he'd still wanted to spend time with you, but once he was all showered and ready to cuddle with you while watching movies, you'd gotten emergency emails and texts from Sunwoo asking for help with your project.

"Aren't there like three other people in your group?" he asked you, earning a tired nod from you.

"Yeah, but they're kind of... missing, right now."

Eric nodded, understanding your situation, strangely not feeling as upset about the unpredictability of today once again.

"It's okay, you can do what you need to do, i'll just entertain myself in the meantime," Eric told you, waving you off as you took your seat at the dining table with your laptop, leaving Eric to laze on your sofa finding entertaining shows to watch.

"You're not gonna find much, there's nothing really exciting on at this time of the day, why don't you try Netflix?" you told him from where you sat at the living room, being able to see the television switching between channels every few seconds.

Eric groaned, "quick, do your work so you can come here and choose with me," he murmured in a painfully bored tone, drumming his fingertips on his cheeks as he browsed channels.

Halfway, through fixing the missing paragraphs in the document Sunwoo had sent you, you'd let out a huff of breathy laughter when you realised he'd settled on watching reruns of 'Wheel of Fortune'.

In between trying to figure out why a 'horseshoe above the door' would be something he could find around the house, Eric couldn't help but glance in your direction ever so often, trying to gauge how done you were with your work from your expression.

"I'm so bored," he called, sighing as he watched you laugh from where you were, not turning away from your computer as you typed rapidly.

"Uh-huh, hold on, I'll be right there," you hummed, busy trying to send the various files over to Sunwoo for him to do a final check, (it wasn't as if your other group mates were being very helpful right now) hoping nothing would disappear this time.

"Okay, I think i'm done!" you sighed, pushing your chair back and shutting your laptop gently.

Eric, however, was too busy trying to figure out what vowels he was missing, oblivious to your announcement.

Shifting in his position on the sofa, Eric had spotted you coming towards where he lay on the sofa, leaning over the back of the sofa to give him a smile.

Nothing in any article or buzzfeed quiz or love magazine column would have prepared him for the way his heart skipped at the sight of you.

Screw the list, Eric thought, all he knew was that when he looked at you, he felt such a wide range of things that he couldn't place, and he didn't need a list to tell him that he was completely, utterly gone for you.

Nudging his glasses higher on his nose bridge, he gave you a small smile, his hoodie over his head as he lay on your sofa. Stretching his arms out, he'd grabbed hold of your arm, pulling you over the back of the sofa so you'd (quite literally) fallen into his arms with a yelp.

"Took you long enough," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your head.

"Sorry, in my defence I did tell Sunwoo that today was for me to spend my... what did you say this morning? long-awaited quality time with my boyfriend?"

Eric nodded as you lifted your shoulders off of him to get a better look at him, "yes, well-deserved too."

"Uh-huh, but you know, he needed my help, so I didn't have much of a choice," you added, searching his expression for any sign that he was upset from today not going to plan.

You huffed, "I'm still sorry about today, I know it was my idea to go to the amusement park and everything, you know, for a change of scenery and all," you told him, bringing your hands up to rest on his chest, drumming your fingers on his chest as you spoke.

"And, you know, I keep seeing these things online about like you know cool date ideas to keep the relationship exciting and stuff like that," your voice trailed off into a mumble, making Eric's shoulders shake with laughter, one of his hands coming up to play with his hair as the other cupped your face, thumb caressing your cheek soothingly.

Eric wanted to laugh, "guess we've both been a bit messed up by those articles, huh."

You frowned, raising your eyebrows in confusion, making him shake his head in dismissal.

"You know what? Heck the articles. I love spending time with you like this," he told you, his hand letting go of his hair so it fell back messy on his head, bringing it to rub your shoulder gently.

"Because it's private, for one," he murmured, "there's no Sunwoo to bother us, well, not anymore at least," he added as an afterthought, "but most of all because I'm happy."

"I could do nothing with you and be happy," he smiled, scrunching his nose up at you, the small gesture accompanied with his words making you flush.

You'd wanted to bury your head into his chest to escape his gaze, though you'd simply given him a small shy smile, nodding at him.

"Me too," you huffed.

And maybe that all Eric needed to solidify the fact that he was in deep, and he realised that maybe it wasn’t as complicated as he thought it was.

Whatever it was, revelation or not, Eric didn't really care at the moment, his hand going to the back of your neck gently as he directed your head towards his, thankfully you'd gotten the hint, leaning over to save him half the work and pressing your lips against his.

Your hand made your way to his hair, running your fingers through them as you felt him smile into the kiss, pressing one last kiss to your lips before you pulled away.

Turning just briefly, you were about to rest your head on his chest when he'd yelped abruptly.

"Backyard barbecue!" he shouted, just as the contestant on the show had asked for a letter 'b', seeing that he really was correct as the contestant solved the puzzle.

You shot him a look, an amused smile on your face as he turned back to you, giving you a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, ruined the mood, didn't I?" he asked, making you giggle, shaking your head as you rest your head back onto his chest, his arms interlocked and resting on your back comfortably.

"Nope, It's very...you. And i'm more than fine with that."

Eric grinned, quirking an eyebrow at you curiously, "really? C'mere lemme get the mood back."

You lifted your head only to be met with a swarm of kisses to your cheeks, the tip of your nose, your forehead, and your lips, making you laugh, both from the ticklish sensation and your flustered state.

Yeah, screw the articles. The both of you were more than fine with this.

"So much for 'setting the mood', huh?"

327 notes · View notes

ravenpaw-93 · 5 years ago

Text

So I fucked up the last post trying to link my fic 🤦🏻‍♀️ It's been a rough night and the tumblr algorithm doesn't like it when I link shit apparently. So instead, here's my oneshot 🖤

Summary:

Draco's entire eighth year at Hogwarts had been a nightmare. Most of his peers avoided him, he had no prospective job opportunities for when he left, and then there was his extremely inconvenient crush on Harry bloody Potter. But his luck begins to change when he gets an unexpected invitation to the Spring Masquerade Ball.

Draco Malfoy found himself settled under a tree along the shoreline of the black lake, enjoying the warm spring air on his face as he did his Runes revisions. Or, more accurately, stared at Harry Potter doing loops on his broomstick, under the premise of doing his Runes revisions. Bloody showoff, he thought as Potter landed seamlessly after an admittedly impressive dive a few yards away. He was immediately surrounded by a gaggle of swooning girls. Draco watched, seething, as Harry smiled easily at them, laughing at something one of them had said. He had no right to feel so jealous, he and Potter were friends, nothing more. But they didn't call it the green eyed monster for nothing, and everyone knows, there's no reasoning with a monster. He slammed his book shut with a huff, more annoyed with himself than anyone else. He piled his belongings back in his bag, slung it over his shoulder and trudged towards the castle, giving Potter and his fanclub one last scathing glance over his shoulder.

His foul mood carried all the way to dinner as he sat sullenly at the 8th year table pushing his peas around his plate aimlessly, determinedly avoiding Potter's gaze. Despite his best efforts, he looked up as a seventh year Ravenclaw, whose name Draco could not remember, approached their table where Potter sat. His stomach twisted unpleasantly as the girl twirled her hair on her finger and batted her unnaturally long eyelashes at Potter, no doubt asking him to the Masquerade Ball that was a mere week away. This had to have been the fortieth invite Potter had received, and subsequently declined. Draco, to no great surprise, hadn't been asked by anyone. He tried to convince himself that's why he was jealous, that it had nothing to do with wanting Potter for himself. He accidentally met Potter's eye, his heart stuttered in his chest when his face split into a wide grin. Draco glanced over his shoulder, convinced that smile was meant for someone other than himself. When he saw no one behind him he gave Potter a shy smile and promptly returned to his peas, ignoring the blush creeping up his neck. Merlin, he was pathetic.

"What's with you?" Blaise asked once they were back in the eighth year common room, sitting in their usual corner by the window. "You've had your wand in a knot all day."

"I have not!" Draco replied indignantly, knowing full well it was a bald-faced lie.

Blaise pursed his lips and raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow at him.

"It's nothing." Draco insisted, setting his jaw stubbornly, his eyes wandering to the corner where Potter sat nodding off in an armchair, a textbook open in his lap. Gods, he looked adorable. Draco felt a pang in his heart knowing that he would never have the person he wanted most.

"Hm..right. Maybe if nothing had ridiculous hair, dorky glasses and terrible posture." Blaise returned, rolling his eyes and nodding subtly to Potter.

"Drop it. Please , Blaise." Draco hissed, shooting him a venomous glare.

"No. I'm sick and tired of watching you pine and sulk over some idiot boy not asking you to a stupid school dance. Why don't you grow a pair and ask him yourself?" Blaise snapped impatiently.

"Fuck you." Draco spat, storming out of the room toward his and Theo Knott's shared dormitory, vaguely aware of green eyes following his every move.

He flung himself onto his bed and stared miserably at the ceiling. Who did Zabini think he was? He didn't understand. His family remained neutral in the war, he wasn't Marked, he didn't have to sit trial in front of the entire Wizengamot or have his name in the papers all summer. Draco was a social outcast, no one wanted to be around him, no one wanted to speak to him, nevermind take him to a cheesy school dance. Potter and he had become friends this year, but they weren't close and he definitely did not want to take Draco to the ball, or anywhere else for that matter. He stood up for Draco at the start of term, even to Weasley and while Draco appreciated it at the time sometimes he wished Potter wasn't so nice. Wished he wouldn't sit with Draco in the library, wouldn't fly with him on the weekends, or sit in the common room with him when the nightmares kept them both awake. It would make it much more difficult to love him if he would just go back to being a git. Maybe then Draco wouldn't lay in his bed at night thinking about the way he smiled at him in Charms, or how he helped him correct his stance when they were partnered together for Defense Against the Dark Arts, or any other stupid little interaction that Draco replayed over and over again in his mind.

He needed to get over this useless infatuation with Potter. The end of term couldn't come fast enough. He needed to not see his stupid cute face and impossibly green eyes every day. He wanted to not feel the constant ache of loving someone who deserved far better than himself. He was an ex- Death Eater, with little money, no future, thanks to a terrible decision he was forced into making at sixteen, and an impossible amount of baggage that came with it all. He wasn't good enough for Potter. He wasn't good enough for anyone. Draco gave a shuddering sigh, closed his bed hangings and allowed himself to succumb to his feelings. He buried his face in his pillow and screamed until his throat ached and his pride finally allowed the tears to spill. They didn't stop until he drifted off into a restless sleep.

When Draco awoke the next morning he was relieved to see Theo had already left for breakfast. He dug in this trunk for a clean uniform and made for the boys' shower rooms. He scrubbed the stench of misery from his skin and dressed quickly. As he brushed his teeth he examined his reflection, frowning at the deep purple circles under his red rimmed, still puffy eyes and the spot on his chin. He ran a comb through his damp hair and heaved a great sigh before returning to his dormitory to retrieve his robes and bag. He opted to skip breakfast, not ready to forgive Blaise yet and knowing Pansy was going to be too busy mooning over Theo to be of any comfort to him. Instead, he made his way to the Charms corridor and slid down the wall opposite the classroom door, to sit on the cold stone floor. He leant his aching head against the rough bricks behind him and shut his eyes. He ought to be revising his essay, but he couldn't be arsed to care. He had exceptional marks in Charms, one mediocre paper wasn't the end of the world. It's not like anyone was going to hire him anyway, even with six N.E.W.Ts.

"Hey, are you okay?" Potter's voice was soft, but still startled Draco causing him to jump, his eyes snapping open.

"What? Yes, I'm fine, Potter." He huffed impatiently. Yeah Draco, lash out. That'll help, idiot.

"Have I done something to piss you off or something? You've been avoiding me for weeks. I tried to come talk to you yesterday, but you took off." Potter asked, taking a seat next to him. Draco could smell his earthy cologne and it was making it hard for him to concentrate.

"No, not at all. I haven't been avoiding you, I've just been busy." He lied, sneaking a glance at Potter trying to discern if he bought it. He had been avoiding him, he thought some space would make things easier. Clearly, not one of his better ideas.

"Oh. Right. Well, er, what are you doing during free period? Do you want to go for a walk or something? It's really nice out today and it's been ages since we've hung out." Potter asked hopefully, looking for all the world like an eager puppy.

"Sure, that sounds good." Draco replied managing to flash him a smile, sounding much more calm than he felt. His palms were sweating, his heart was racing painfully fast, his mind spinning.

He did an abysmal job focusing during Flitwick's lesson. Potter had sat next to him and instead of listening to his teacher Draco had retreated into his head to over-analyse their conversation in the corridor. On one hand, he was dead chuffed Potter had sought him out and wanted to spend time with him. On the other, he knew better than to read too far into it. They were friends, and Draco had been distant, he probably just wanted to catch up. There was no reason for Draco to get his hopes up. Potter prodded him with his elbow bringing him back to the present. Draco looked over to see him holding an orange under the desk.

"You skipped breakfast." He whispered, grinning.

"Thanks." Draco mouthed, taking the offered fruit and giving him a small smile. His stomach fluttered pleasantly and he felt pathetic that such a simple gesture made him feel so giddy. Get it together Draco, it's an orange, not a love confession for fuck's sake. He discreetly peeled the orange in his lap, vanished the scraps and popped a segment into his mouth bending over his parchment as he chewed. He tore another off, nudged Potter's arm and passed it to him without looking away from Flitwick. He nearly choked when Potter bumped his knee against his.

He was quite proud of how well he held himself together once Flitwick turned them loose to practice Protean Charms. Draco had already mastered the charm in his sixth year, for reasons he desperately wanted to forget. Much to his surprise it only took Potter two attempts to succeed. At the end of the lesson Flitwick handed back their quizzes from the previous lesson. Draco was rather pleased to see he'd gotten a perfect score. A remarkable feat, considering he'd spent more time than he'd care to admit fretting over how dreadful Potter had looked in class that day. He stuck the parchment hastily in his bag waiting anxiously for the bell to ring so his free period could begin.

He and Potter walked together in silence to the eighth year common room to drop off their bags. Draco dropped his bag onto his bed and pulled his robes over his head and folded them neatly. Potter was waiting for him in the common room, sleeves pushed up to show his firm, tan forearms, and his purple and black tie was loose around his neck. He led the way out to the castle grounds to the treeline of the Forbidden Forest. They walked along it in silence for a few moments, the only sounds were the crunching of twigs beneath their feet and bird calling from the trees.

"Thanks for agreeing to come with me. I've really missed spending time with you, I really thought I had done something wrong." Potter said at last, turning his head to look at Draco briefly.

Draco felt a swooping sensation in his stomach and he had to fight to keep the smile off his face. He missed me? Holy shit he missed me...No. No, keep it together Draco, don't make it more than it is.

"I've missed it too." He admitted trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Sorry I've been a bit distant."

"It's okay, it happens." Potter replied amicably. "Er, so there was something I wanted to talk to you about." He continued, sounding a bit nervous and coming to a stop.

Fuck. Draco felt like his heart had plummeted from his chest down to his stomach.

"Okay." Draco said hesitantly, looking at Potter with his lip caught between his teeth.

"Well I was wondering if maybe you'd want to go to the ball with me? I know it's kind of stupid, but I think it might be fun." Potter asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Draco was sure he had misheard. Did Harry Potter just ask him to the ball? No. That can't be right, it had to be some sick joke Weasley put him up to.

"Are you fucking with me?" Draco asked in response, his tone much more accusing than he intended.

"What? No! Why would you ask that?" Potter recoiled slightly, as if Draco had slapped him.

"Why else would you ask me to the ball?" Draco countered quietly dropping his eyes to look at his shoes.

"I thought that was obvious. I asked you because I fancy you." Potter explained giving him a crooked grin.

Draco was quite certain he stopped breathing for at least twenty seconds. His heart thumped painfully quick in his chest and he felt a strange, sudden urge to jump up and down.

"I fancy you too." He replied sheepishly, feeling his cheeks heat, unable to keep from smiling.

"So is that a yes?"

"Yes, you dolt, it's a yes." Draco chuckled with an exaggerated eye roll, trying to conceal how elated he felt.

That evening he made up with Blaise and apologised for sulking over Potter for so long. He decided not to tell his friends he was going to the ball, to save himself the embarrassment, just in case it fell through. Though the fear of that happening progressively lessened as the week went on. Potter held his hand during their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson Tuesday while Professor Arrowood did a lecture on Dementors. On Wednesday they spent their free period studying for Charms together, under a tree by the lake. Potter told him he had a pretty smile. Draco had blushed furiously and stammered something incoherent about Potter's eyes.

Classes were dismissed at noon the day of the ball. Draco was a bundle of nervous, excited energy. He attempted to get some of his school work completed before he had to start getting ready but it was a lost cause. He bounced from subject to subject, unable to keep his focus. At five thirty he snuck away to the showers hoping to get his in before the other boys started getting ready for the ball. He had just slipped into his pyjama trousers and a long sleeve knit top when he heard several voices from outside the door. He gathered his dirty clothes and slipped past Macmillan, Weasley, and Longbottom and returned to his dormitory. He waited for Theo to come in and out of the room what seemed like fourteen times before getting ready. He stripped his pyjamas off and pulled on his all black dress robes set with gold fastenings and knotted his black and gold pinstriped tie. He fussed with hair in the mirror trying to get it to look intentionally tousled before sliding the ornate black and gold eye mask over his head. He felt a bit stupid wearing it, but supposed that would go away once he saw everyone else wearing one. Just as he was giving himself one more look over in the mirror someone rapped on his door.

"Draco, it's Harry. You ready to go?" Potter called from the other side.

Draco took a deep breath to calm his nerves before crossing the room and opening the heavy oak door. Gods, Potter looked stunning. His dress robes were such a dark shade of green they looked almost black, with silver fastenings. He'd opted for a deep emerald green mask with intricately painted black vines, that complimented his eyes beautifully. His hair lay much neater than it usually did, but still looked just wild enough to make Draco want to run his hands through it.

"You look amazing." Potter said breathlessly flashing him a bright smile, sending the butterflies in Draco's stomach twirling again. Though, at that moment, he could have sworn they were pigeons.

"Thank you. So do you." He replied timidly, trying to hide the flush that crept up his neck and tinted his cheeks. "Hang on, can you even see me? Where are your glasses?" He asked torn between amusement and utter confusion. How on earth was Potter going to dance with him if he couldn't see?

Potter gave a deep hearty laugh, a warm sound that filled Draco's heart and sent tingles over his skin.

"Yes I can see you, silly. I have contact lenses. They're a muggle thing. They're literally these little flexible, soft lenses that I put in my eyes, not on them." He explained with a chuckle.

"Wow. That's actually really inventive. Wonder how come wizards haven't thought of that?" Draco wondered aloud.

"Who knows. Probably the same reasons why they insist on parchment and quills." Harry snorted with a shrug. "Shall we head down?"

A sense of euphoria spread throughout his body as Potter took his hand and led him to the Great Hall. He was on cloud nine, not even the stares and mutinous whispers following them as they made their way through the castle could bring him down. As they descended the entrance hall staircase Draco watched other students craning their necks, desperate to see who had been fortuitous enough to have captured the interest of Harry Potter. Draco revelled in their envy, meeting each scathing, disbelieving glare with a smug smirk.

"I should warn you before we go in, I'm a terrible dancer. Your toes will probably be sorry you ever said yes to this." Potter admitted with a charming grin as they wove through the throng of students gathered outside the Great Hall.

"Toes mend." Draco replied gently, giving Potter's hand a light squeeze.

"Well in that case, come on. Let's go dance." Potter said pulling him through the crowd into the noisy, exquisitely decorated Great Hall.

Their first dance was a bit clumsy, involving a lot of tripping each other, trodding on feet, nervous giggles and whispered swears and apologies. But by the third song Draco's nerves had completely disappeared and he laughed as Potter spun him around, looking at him with such an adoring expression Draco lost his breath. He felt a bit silly that he was enjoying this so much, but he couldn't help it. Even surrounded by dozens of other students, Potter only had eyes for him; nothing had ever made him feel so happy. As the song came to an end Potter took him by the hand and led them, giggling as they wove through the crowded dance floor, to the refreshment table on the east wall. The dark haired Ravenclaw that had asked Potter to be her date glowered at a Draco from a few feet away as they stood in the queue for the punch bowl. Draco caught her eye and gave her a falsely sweet smile just as Potter placed a hand on the small of his back and nudged him forward.

Time was passing far too quickly for Draco's liking. After they had their drinks they returned to the dance floor. Potter danced with him as if no one was watching, like it was only the two of them, bodies moving in sync, Potter's hips grinding tantalizingly against his arse. It took every ounce of self-control Draco had not to snog Potter senseless on the spot. The crowd had thinned out considerably, most of the younger students having gone off to bed. The DJ announced the last dance and the beginning notes of a slow ballad filled the air. Potter snaked his arms around Draco's waist and in turn he draped his over Potters broad shoulders. Their faces were mere inches apart now and in the dim light Draco could make out the light dusting of freckles on the perfect ski-slope bridge of Potter's nose, his brilliant green eyes shone so bright they appeared to be glowing as they bore into Draco's.

"I wish this didn't have to end." Draco admitted, with a sad smile as he swayed with Potter to the rhythm of the music.

"Maybe it doesn't have to." Potter replied with a grin as the music started to wind down. "Come with me." He leant in and whispered, his breath tickling Draco's neck.

Draco's fingers laced through Potter's as followed the raven haired boy through the sea of couples still dancing as the last song came to an end. He led Draco to the third floor, through the clock tower door, letting it shut gently behind them. Potter caressed Draco's cheek and pulled his mask down to hand loosely around his neck, doing the same to his own.

"Christ, you're beautiful." Potter whispered tenderly. Draco felt his face heat as Potter brushed a stray hair from his eyes. "One more dance?

"There's no music." Draco answered, wrapping his arms around Potter's neck anyway.

"You don't need music to dance." Potter smiled as he rested his hands on Draco's hips and began to sway with him.

Potter rested his forehead against Draco's as they clung to each other in the moonlight. Potter looked stunning with the silvery light shimmering across his brown skin and Draco felt as though he were living in a dream. No one had ever looked at him the way Potter was. No one had ever touched him so gently, as if he were made of precious glass that could break at any moment. His heart flooded with emotion as he found himself hypnotized by emerald eyes.

"Thanks for asking me to the dance, Harry." He murmured, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a small smile.

"Thanks for coming with me." Harry returned, chewing on his bottom lip, as if deliberating what to say next. "About what I said earlier, I wasn't talking about the ball, you know. I meant this , with us, it doesn't have to end just because the ball is over."

This time Draco really did stop breathing.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Is this really happening? Did Harry really just say that? Holy shit. Okay. Don't freak out just answer him. For fuck's sake, speak Draco don't just stand there gawking at him.

"Really?" Draco asked quietly, at last, his eyes wide as they stared into Harry’s.

"Yes, really. I’ve had feelings for you for awhile, I just couldn’t work out how to tell you. I'm sorry I took so long." Harry answered cradling Draco's jaw gently in his hand. "So what do you say? Wanna be my boyfriend?"

For once, Draco didn't think. He leant forward and pressed his lips to Harry's bringing a hand up to tangle in his wild curls. His heart soared when Harry's hand pressed into the small of his back, bringing their bodies flush together. He scraped Harry's bottom lip gently with his teeth as he pulled back.

"Only for ever." Draco grinned and brought their lips together once more, knowing in his heart that he finally had the person he wanted most, and was never letting him go.

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry eighth year #draco malfoy #harry potter #oblivious draco

183 notes · View notes

opinuun · 5 years ago

Text

Do you guys remember when this was a studio Ghibli blog and I’d post gifs? 2017 was a good year lol. Anyway. As a child, I never knew I’d thirst for a 2-D otome man, but sadly I’ve stopped. Yes, after two years of obsession, it’s time I retire from the fandom. I’m keeping the blog though. Ran this shit for years, ain’t gonna give up now that my horny-meter has plummeted to an all time record low. Did you guys know blogs don’t have a character limit??

Oh god. I didn’t know this blog would suddenly receive so much attention. Please, I am begging you to not scroll down. It’s endless MysticMessenger posts from two years ago.

Hey, I'm once again: back, you can't possibly have more time than I do. I mean, after all, I made this blog. You're only browsing it. And most people don't even come here. Not even my friends...*sniffle* The just ignore this poor, pathetic little page. All they do is fill out the TAB form and leave. I think. Maybe they're here right now! HI! HOW ARE YOU DOING? I'M FINE! THANKS FOR COMING! YES, I'M YELLING! Who am I kidding. This page won't get a single hit, unless I bribe people...now that has possibilities. Okay, fill out the TAB form, so I have proof that you bothered to come here and...uh...I'll...uh...send you a sandwich? Please allow 6-8 weeks for delivery. I'm bored. I'm gonna go hug a moose. MOOSE! I love-d you moose! Hey, I'm back again! Yea...*waits for applause* okay! Now I want all you loyal fans...*cricket chirps* to go to the link to see what I'm like. I took a whole bunch of personality quizzes and posted them there. I'm an evil villain, kitty and a freakazoid so far. And I only took the quiz once, too. Spooky how accurate they are...anyway, I command you to go! I'm going. I'm back. I'm gonna start counting how many times I say back. Let's see: 1...2...3...4...5! Wow. I must really be desperate for something to do. I now officially have proof that someone has been here! It was one of my friends. Apparently this page really is getting long, because my friend said something to that effect. Maybe. Anyway, moving on! I'm just basically typing nothing. Just like all those reports people have to do. You know? With a specific number of words. They start out with half that number, and then just fill in words until they have the right amount. I salute those people. You're great tradition is being carried out here, on the second most pointless site ever! Well. Maybe eventually some weird, bored person will wander onto my site on accident and be mildly entertained be my site until they wander onto a live video feed of a coffee maker. Or maybe not. I only know that I'm entertaining me, which was my original goal. So. I've done what I've set out to accomplish. Yea, me! I'm so special. You see, most people, they don't like reading or writing. So if you're not most people, you've made it down this far without skipping, skimming or getting the spark notes version. (Which I think does not exist) My point is, if you've bothered to read this, then, (like me) you probley have also read the ketchup bottle so many times that you have it down verbatim. Look verbatim up. It's a word. But, you should know that, since you like reading. Or maybe you're just skimming. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with reading food labels. You might be asked a question about them on a quiz show. And now, for the million-dollar question: How many calories are there in a single serving of Mustard? I can just see it now...It could be called Know-Your-Food. Or You are What you Eat. It'd probley be as popular as those game shows that no one's ever heard of. Speaking of food, what's up with pie? There's strawberry pie, apple, pumpkin and so many others, but there is no grape pie! I know. I'm just as upset about this unfortunate lack of development in the pie division. Think about it. Grapes are used to make jelly, jam, juice and raisins. What makes them undesirable for pie? Would they dry into raisins? Couldn't you just stick some jelly in a piecrust and bake it? It just doesn't make any sense. Another thing that bothers me is organ grinders. You know, the foreign guys with the bellhop hats and the little music thingy and the cute little monkey with the bellhop hat who collects the money? Okay. They're basically begging on the street. How did they ever afford an organ-thingy? Wouldn't it make more sense to get a kazoo, if you're broke? And if they're so poor, what possessed them to buy a monkey? I mean, I don't think I could afford a monkey, and I'm not exactly on the streets. Obviously I at least have a computer...so, back to the organ grinders. I would have sold the monkey and the organ and been able to eat for at least a year. Or, if I was weirder than I am, I could at least kill the monkey with the organ and eat it. Why on earth did they keep the monkey? It must have cost a fortune to feed...not to mention the mess. That's just one of those many facts of life that are better left mysteries. Especially since no one but me would ask the question. I better go. I think I hear a monkey...Okay...now I'm back. That's the sixth time I've said back! I realize that this longest text ever must be very boring and not worth anyone's time. But I'd like to take this time to thank the 2 and 1/2 people in the entire universe who have bothered to read this entire thing. I'm not exactly sure who they are, but: thanks! Right now, my spacebar is malfunctioning...that's not good...I have to press it two or three times just to insert a freaking space. Maybe the evil little faeries with the sharp little teeth have put their evil faerie dust on my computer. Or maybe not. This is too frustrating. Goodbye for now...Now I'm back. And still frustrated. But for a different reason. Today I had the misfortune of playing a Treasure Planet game on neopets.com It was terrible. Apparently the point of the game was to get your character to shout "Whoo-Hoo!" as many times as possible before you splattered your brains on the rocks, all the while listening to a soundtrack that is similar to a dying ceiling fan. Of course, when I started out I accidentally hit the rocks approximately three million times. Halfway though I used my four remaining brain-cells to decide that the game was dumb. So my goal changed from surviving to laughing evilly while my character died. So the game naturally did everything it could to preserve my life. The stupid game is still going on and I refuse to quit because I want my points. My character is actually dodging the stupid rocks better now then when I controlled him. I hate irony. Seeya. Okay. Now I'm back again. Today I added an update page, which is basically a less chaotic, outlined version of this without all the ranting. It's more like techno talk about arrays and how much I suck and whether or not the Braves will win this year. Okay, the whole braves thing is made up. But everything else I've said so far is true. I think. Maybe I should start on a boring disclaimer...Eh-hem. All contents of this site were designed for entertainment purposes only. Any use thereof that is not stated in the above mentioned statement would make the author, hereby referred to as Patron Saint of Paper Clips, very angry. Should you violate the purpose of this site: i.e. become not entertained, the Patron Saint of Paper Clips will be forced to take drastic measures. This is specified in Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook. Ooooo…that’s a great idea! I’m gonna start quoting from the Flaming Chicken Handbook! Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (that’s me) is allowed to cause vague, pain like sensations while the offending person (or alien life form, dog, etc.) isn’t paying attention. Now I have a purpose in life! To make up quotes from the non-existent Flaming Chicken Handbook, which I’m sure you have a copy of. No? Too bad. It’s in the mail, I promise! Now I must take my leave…and remember. Cheese is watching. Okay...I'm back...I think that eventually half of this thing will consist of the word back over and over again...that's just weird. Which fits the motif of the rest of the site. There's even a money back guarantee. Isn’t' that nice? See? Now no one can ever say that I don't take care of my viewers. Especially since I don't have viewers. I have readers. Wait...I really don't even know if anyone bothers to read this. Even if I put it in a less chaotic, more user-friendly format people would still ignore this because it involves: reading. Yes. Sad to admit, but the majority of people would rather read the summary at the back of a book rather than the whole book itself. What has the world come to? It's pathetic. Especially since I'm bothering to write all this. It's not fair! Why can't I have more readers?! All the other internet writers have nothing on me, except they're better at advertising, having a central theme/plot and basically more talented. Whereas I'm more into the whole ranting and raving stage right now. Plus, I am horrible at spelling. Which is bad. Thank the powers that be for spell-check. The single greatest invention of the computer gods. I'm getting bored, so I think I'm done for the day. May your day be shiney! I'm back again! And I feel weird! I found at that yet another one of my friends is reading this. Creepy. Just how much time do they have on their hands. Perhaps their just trying to be nice. I can just see it now...an organization devoted not to feeding the hungry, or peace, or love or whatever, but to giving recognition to all those poor, pathetic, unpopular websites. I wonder what it's name would be. Don't Ignore Sites? Would it be called DIS? Isn't that like a slang term for an insult? Would that be considered poetic justice, or just a nice coincidence? And why do I even care? I'll tell you why. Because I have nothing else to do right now. I could be playing neopets, but ever since my bad experience with Treasure Planet, I don't feel like it. Oh, by the way, I noticed that whenever I use spell-check, my stupid computer turns the word probley into to word problem. To prevent this, I did nothing. So, it is now up to you, the imaginary reader, to decide whether I mean probley or problem...it's almost like a game! But without the bad sound track. And I promise not to force you to live when you would rather die. Moving on, I have nothing else to say, but don't feel like quitting just yet. I'm like the little engine that could. Or maybe the Energizer Bunny. I just keep going, and going and going. Or I could be like that annoying guy on T.V. who keeps asking if you can hear him. If my site manages to last a decade, my readers *snicker* will probley wonder what I'm talking about. My answer is simple. It doesn't matter. I'm just rambling. Which means that it doesn't matter if you understand anything I say. Doesn't that make you feel better? I bet it does. Wow. Look how long this has gotten. I even impress myself. Who would have thought I have this much free time? And I congratulate any reader who has gotten this far. Ooooooo! You must check out the fortunes section of the random stuff page! I've just gotten an idea for some more, original, fortunes...I gotta go!(may the moose be with you) And now I am back. I swear. If iI fill out the fake tab form I'm gonna have to put back as my favorite word...I already have filled it out, though. Would it be cheating to fill it out again? Only if I had multiple personalities. Or would it be cheating if I didn't have multiple personalities? The world may never know. Just like how many licks it takes to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop. Would it vary? The number of licks, I mean. Someone could have super-disolving spit, or watery-spit. Or what if you took big ol' slobbery licks? Does the commercial take that into account? No. It doesn't. And let me tell you, it's an outrage. It deludes all of American's sweet, innocent, candy-loving children into thinking that a cartoon owl is smarter than they are! "Mr. Owl, can you tell us how many licks does it take to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop?" Or whatever. And "Mr. Owl" replies "One...Twoo...Three! Chomp" And he bites it. That teaches our youth that it's okay to agree to help someone, and then ruin their experiment. Well...it's not. I am going to start a protest group. Teens Against Cartoon Owls. We could call ourselves TACO! I love the little tacos, I love them good! That is a direct quote from GIR, co-star and comic-relief on INVADER ZIM. Hmmmm...intersting. I put hyphens in both of his titles...it must be a conspiracy! I gotta go. Those TACO buttons don't make themselves, you know. I'm back again. And not so cheesed off about the whole tootsie roll pop thing. Right now, I have another twenty minutes on the Internet before I'm gonna watch T.V. And I can't think of anything else to do. So, predictably, here I am. It's not like I have anything better to do. Obviously, you know this. After all, look how long this text is. I wonder if I've made the world record? If I did, would I stop this? Why bother asking? I'll will most likely still be adding to this on my death bed. Hmmmmm...has any old, senile person ever written anything? Was it coherent? Did it make more sense that this text? Is it possible to make less sense? Am I enjoying asking retorical questions? Yes. Yes, I am. But I seriously wonder what something written by a senile person would be like. I've heard of poems and stuff written by people who were high, insane or paranoid. But never senile. Can a senile person write? Aren't they regressed to a child-like state? Does it even matter? Is anyone even reading this? Did I resume asking retorical questions? Do you care? Is this eating up time? I feel like I'm playing questions only on whose line is it anway. I probley should have capitalized something, or underlined but I'm feeling lazy...hey, you try to keep your two and a half readers happy! It's really stressfull. Someday, I'm gonna snap and just delete this entire thing. Gee, I hope not! I worked sorta hard on this. It's great for making random topics weave together to form an overall infrastructure of chaos. That made little sense. That's why it's here, and not some critically acclaimed site. Ooooooooooooo! I'm gonna quote from the FLAMING CHICKENS HANDBOOK again! Yep! I bet you were just breathless in anticipation. Okay. Here goes. Code: 472 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that this site in no way aknowledges the existance of other, better sites (hereon reffered to as the Losers) The Losers are a myth. The Patron Saint of Paper Clips (me again!) claims no knowledge as to where that particullary nasty rumor started, but confirms that this is the best site ever. It would be a sin against humanity for a better site to exist. Should you refuse to aknowledge the Patron Saint of Paper Clips as the ruler of the Internet, you will be subjected to punishment as stated in Code 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook (i.e. Experience vague, pain-like sensations when you're not paying attention) This has been a public service announcement. This is a test, I repeat only a test. Had this been an actual emergency, we would have bought up all the can openers and charged 3 cows and a pig for each one. I repeat, lock all you doors and windows, this is it. I repeat, there is nothing to worry about. Everything is fine. The end is not here. I'm going, you're on you're own! Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm back!*smiles brightly* And apparantly delusional! Anyway, I just finished rereading my longest text ever. And I became inspired to talk about nothing. You see, I periodically read the longest text ever to check the constant downward spiral of my sanity. Hmmm...I seem to be entertaining myself though, even while reading what I wrote. Which is why I still go to the Really Really Big Button That Doesn't Do Anything website. Because I am easily amused and have lots and lots of time on my hands. Maybe, some day far in the future (like next Thursday) I'll print a copy of this insane text. And then go door to door distributing it. Eventually, this would become a monthly tradition. Whole families would gather around their front door, in breathless anticipation while they attempted to barracade me out. I can just see the whole community rising to thwart my attempts to spread love, joy and insane chaos. I probley wouldn't actually print this out (think how much paper it would take!) but if I do, only friends and enemies will receive copies. Hmmmm...maybe my condition is worsening. Or not. I'm still peeved about the cartoon owl from the Tootsie Roll Pop commercials. He is pure evil. TACO will eventually destroy him. Unless he has already been destroyed by an even more radical Anti-Cartoon-Owl group. I hope not. Or, would that be good? I suppose I could let someone else have the glory. After all, I'm not in this line of buisness for the fame, fortune and power. What line of buisness, do you ask? Why, the assasinating annoying cartoon characters buisness. (Actually I just question them untill they spontaneously combust, I ask lots of questions) So, in conclusion, ladies and gentleman of the jury(that's you) I could not have possibly tortured "Mr. Owl" to death. I love owls. Hmm...I seem to be jumping from one subject to another more frequently. Either I am growing more comfortable with my on-line writing, or I am progressivly getting more insane and chaotic. I also am psyco-analyzing myself a lot today...hmmmm...I'm even saying "hmmmmm..." a lot. Just like a real psychologist. Hmmmmmmm. Time for another boring disclaimer!!!!!!! Code: 742 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that in no part does the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (That's still me!) actually claim to be mentally ill. That's either a) a publicity stunt b) An attempt at humor c) a cry for help or d) none of the above You can e-mail your responses by conducting a scavenger hunt of this site. Some of the pages of this site contain a link encouging the two and a half people to e-mail the Patron Saint of Paper Clips. There may also be evil little links that are designed to confuse you. These links send stuff to someone named [email protected] Saint of Paper Clips does not know who this individual is, but sincerly wishes that you send all your hate mail to him. Not that the aformentioned individual claims to have received hate mail (or mail of any kind) via a website link. Thank-you for your time. Remember to send your answers to my sanity quiz to the e-mail account, [email protected] Oh, and once I refer to myself in the first person again, the handbook quote is over. I just thought that I might like to mention that. Oh. You're still here. I figured you rush right on over to e-mail me. Perhaps you don't have time to waste e-mailing me. HA! HA! HA! That's funny!!!! If you you don't have time to waste, what are you doing here?!!! Oh, who am I kidding. I figure that even the people I manage to lure onto my site from neopets don't even bother to come to this particular page. Maybe I should make the link come here directly...Hey! What a good idea! That way I can spread my love, joy and insane chaos to more people! I'm a genius. Gotta go, must lure innocent victems to the second most pointless site ever!!!! I'm back. And really angry, and confused. I've always known that I was weird, that's always been a given. But now I realize that I am considerably more normal than the rest of my family. Today we had a "family outing." Now, most families will go bowling, or putt-putt golfing. They may go to a resteraunt with an arcarde, or the movies or to a theme park. Not my family! No, we got the greatest family outing of all. We got to go to a bar and play pool!!!!!*waits for readers to become insanely jealous* Yep, that's right, a bar with a pool table! Not only did we get world class cuisine (under-cooked hotdogs and over-cooked hamburgers), my little sister (age 10) got taught pool by someone I strongly supect is an ex-convict! Naturally when it was announced that we'd be eating dinner in this place, I could hardly contain my excitment(I glared at my mother and asked why we couldn't go to Pizza Hut) When we arrived, we were promptly served (after thirty minutes) In the meantime, we played a family game of pool(my parents played while my brother and sister and I watched) After two rousing rounds, our food came. The food was superb, (our food came the exact opposite of how we ordered it, and half of the onion rings were missing) Then we joyfully returned to our game(my sister and the ex-con played my mom) We spent hours there (from 5p.m.-7:15p.m.) There were many people that were the same age as me and my siblings (no one in the room but us were under 30) Us kids had to be dragged kicking and screaming from the bar ( I almost fell asleep during the last game I watched) As we left, there was a feeling of goodwill and fellowship between all(my sister locked me out of the car and wouldn't let me in untill I started yelling profanity in her general direction) The high point of the entire night was when my mother gave me $21 for my report card. She promptly borrowed $1 to help with the waitresses tip(This part I'm not being sarcastic about) All in all it was a night I'll remember forever (as the lowest point in "family outing"history, except for that time my mom dragged me to a church thing on the concept of truth.) My brother(age 13) even decided upon a new job he wants when he's old enough to work, a busboy at the bar. We had to tell him that he would probley have to wait untill he was 21.(Absolutly nothing about that statement was sarcastic) As you can see, I love my families outings(Not unless you're blind...or stupid) &#!#%&&!!!(*%$ WHAT THE %$#@ WAS MY MOTHER $#$#%$# THINKING!!!!!!!???? BRINGING $#$$# KIDS IN A BAR!? I know it was her idea, 'cause my dad hates it, too. My mom and my stupid little 10-year old sister loves it, though. *sighs* Why does my life have to be so weird? I'm leaving...now I'm back! And not so pissed at my weird family. Now is the time to mourn the loss of one of my most loyal readers (I think she's read the entire thing one time, which is more than anyone else has done so far) She has been banned from accesing any portion of the Internet, do to reasons that must remain confidental due to security reasons. If I told you, I'd have to kill you and all that stuff. So...now I am down to one and a half readers. Untill such time that I have more. I wonder why anyone would read this? You would have to have several characteristics that I possess. First of all, you'd have to have an extrodinary amount of free time. Second of all, you would have to have the patience to read through all of this. And lastly, you'd have to know where the heck this site is. I admit it. I haven't exactly advertised this site. Nor can I find it on any search engines. Some of my pages have stuff written in to make search engines recognize me, but it doesn't seem to be working. What must I do to rise above obscurity? I tell people I know about this site, but they either ignore this page, or don't even bother coming to the site in the first place. I suppose that is the bane of all authors. To pour your heart and soul into a passage, and have everyone ignore it. *sniffle* Why must this be? Maybe I should just give up. After all, no one would really care if I quit updating this site. But I can't help but think of stuff like the evil over lord list and REALLY REALLY BIG BUTTON THAT DOESN'T DO ANYTHING. They are not great neccesarily because of the content, (although that helps some) they are great because of their sheer length. You can read a little each day. And almost never finish. Also, I guess I still am trying to get the world record. I have heard some feedback suggesting that I make someway for people to remember where they stopped reading. It can be very confusing, especially if you weren't paying attention in the first place. Well, I dont want to organize this page, in any manner. This is chaos. And insanity. Not neat little text in classifiable rows, in alphabetical order. If you want neat, go to some other site(though, as mentioned in Flaming Chickens Code:472 there is no such thing as a site better than this one). Otherwise, I guess you're stuck with me. Awwwww...I'm touched! You didn't run screaming to another site, thankfull for the chance to escape this insanity. You're still here, which must mean that you'd rather be here than anywhere else! Hey, where are you going?! I thought you were gonna stay here and keep me company?! *drags reader back* See, I knew you'd stay! *gagged reader glares* What's that? I know this is the best site ever, thanks for the compliment! *reader starts inching towards freedom* I better go...I think that I may have a problem brewing. I'm back. And very concerned about this new, younger generation (all 10 year olds who were born in 1992) They are supposed to be the future. Instead they appear to be a nuclear armagedon in the form of a fifth grader. I chanced to have an interview with an informant from this evil generation (my little sister) who will be called Mrs. X for security reasons (no, she's not married, the "Mrs" makes it good as a disguise) I was quizing Mrs. X on Civil War History for an upcoming test in her classroom (whose location can not be devulged) Mrs. X seemed fluent in the subject. Using prior knowledge, I deduced that Mrs. X was full of crap. Out of sheer curiosity, I asked Mrs. X who participated in the Civil War. She immediatly replied "Clara Barton". I clarified, which countries fought in the Civil War. She answered: England, Russia, and (out of sheer desperation) Iraq. I believe that she was just listing countries she knows America has fought against. Now, correct me if I'm wrong...but Iraq? I don't know if Iraq even existed in the Civil War Era! Why on earth would we go have way across the world to fight them when we didn't even really need oil?!! Moving on, I finaly managed to coax my sister (I'm tired of writing Mrs. X) to tentativly guess that America fought in the Civil War. I mean, who'd a thought? America? Fighting in the American Civil War? In a moment of inspiration, I asked her who America fought. Her first guess was enslaved africans. Well, at least she knows that slaves were involved in the war. Before she could start listing all of America's enemies, I gave her a hint. I said "The Union fought..." With a crack, snaple and pop, some random synapses in her brain connected in the right order and she said "CONFEDERACY!!!" I was very proud of her, just as you would be proud of a two-year-old who has just announced: "I WENT POO-POO ON THE POTTY!!!!!" What I mean is, you wouldn't be very proud if the average person said that they just took a dookey on the toilet, and you wouldn't be very proud if they knew who fought against the Union in the Civil War. I confirmed that the Union was Northern and Free, and that the Confederacy was Southern and Slave. We resumed quizzing and she got every question on the worksheet correct. This is because she memorizes the questions. That way, she can pass the test without actually learning anything. You see, if you memorize stuff, you only have to remember that the answer to number 6 is Clara Barton for a week, rather than having to remember that Clara Barton started the Red Cross for the rest of you life. I sincerely appologize if anyone is offended by my view of memorization. I also would like such persons to immediatly leave my site. You don't belong here. You see...knowledge is good. If my sister...uh...Mrs. X were ever asked a question on the Civil War on a quiz show, she'd come up with nothing. With knowledge you can win money and the opportunity to look like a dork on national television. My sister is a big believer in the memorization system. I previous time when I was studying with her (American Revolution, this time) I was trying to help her remember the difference between the Patriots(Patriotic to America) and the Loyalists (Loyal to Britain) She didn't know what the word patriotic meant. I tried to explain. I asked her how you dress on the forth of july (she said nice) I asked what the colors red, white and blue were (pretty). I gave up in exasperation. More recently, I was trying to instill a sense of empathy and niceness in her. I asked her what the golden rule of christianity was. She didn't know. When I pressed her, she confessed she didn't know what chrisianity was. Completly defeated, I told her that it was the religion she practiced every Sunday when she went with her friends to church. This confirmed my suspicion that she only went so that she could have the use of the church's playground equipment. My family also strongly suspects that she stole $20 from the donation thingy. Anyway, that's my rant on the new generation that contains my little sister. When someone of her generation runs for president, I'm gonna do a complete background check. If they're anything like my sister, I'm movin' to Canada. Gotta go...the Russian-Brittish-Iraqi-enslaved-Africans are coming to defeat the Mexicans. I'm back! *there's that darn cricket again* And I have a genuine question to ask all of my loyal readers *cough-cough* Okay, here it is: Is it normal for a non-gender specific sibling to carry around various dead reptiles (snakes, turtles, lizards etc.) Furthormore, is it considered accepted behavior to talk to these dead reptiles, in a cooey, baby talky kind of voice? Finnaly, is it expected for said sibling's non-gender specific parent to encourage such behavior, citing "I was just like that as a child" as an excuse? It's an honest question as I fear that my non-gender specific sibling is weird. Who am I kidding? My entire family is weird. It's just a matter of degree. Hey, by the way. I'm sorry that my last few entries have been only about my various family antics. Although I can't see why you care, because there is a large probability that you do not exist, because I don't think anyone is reading this anymore. How discouraging. People need to make the time to waste time. It's a time honored tradition. Who'd thought that I could use time that many times in only a few sentences? It's been pretty quiet here lately, which is why I haven't added anything to this text in awhile. I know, you were just crushed that nothing new was happening. It's a sad, cold, cruel world out there and you had nothing to relieve the monotony of it. *sniffle* I feel so sorry for you! Next thing you know, you're internet connection will die. Well, too bad! Do you know I never even had a computer untill just a few months ago (that's why I'm obsessivly writing here) So I won't pity you if you're computer dies for unexpected reasons. Time for another quote from the FLAMING CHICKEN HANDBOOK!!! Code: 843 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that in no way is the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (guess who?) responsible for any faulty wiring or lack thereof in your computer. The Patron Saint of Paper Clips in no way wishes harm on your computer. Any derogatory statement is simply an opinion of an individual, not of the flaming order of the flaming chickens. Said order will in no way be held responsible for any damages, injuries, loss of life, limb, head, or organs. Okay, quote is done. Maybe I should put quotation marks around them...nah, too much work. But I probably will eventually get around to having a seperate page just for the FLAMING CHICKEN HANDBOOK. That way all the members (what members) can print out a copy of it for themselves (if they didn't get that copy in the mail) I guess I'm done for the day...I know. You want me to stay. It's okay. Because eventually, I'll be back! Seeya! I'm back. And once again suprised. When I was at a TAB poetry thingy (TAB is good TAB is great We love TAB) I met some new people. One of these people (who shall remain nameless untill such time that I have explicit permission to use her name) turned out to be almost as weird as me. As in...she read the ENTIRE Longest Text Ever. The whole thing. So far two whole people (to my knowledge) have read the entire thing, and a few people have skimmed it. That means I really can justify claiming to have two and a half readers! I'm so happy! That means my pointless obsession has actually entertained someone besides me! Perhaps, one day, far in the future, this will actually be a world record and random people will acutally voluntarily read this text every day. Or maybe not. The point is that it is nice to have readers. Or maybe it's not...I mean...won't the quality *snicker* of my work deteriorate if I am no longer writing for the target audience of me? If that happens, then no one will read this. And then I'll be writing for me again. And then the quality will rise. And then people will start reading. And then the quality will go down and the vicious spiral of good and bad will continue untill I either give up this text, or go crazy...er. In any case...I should probably find a topic. Yeah...a topic would be good. Or...I could just continue to write about finding a topic. Ooooo! I know a topic! Ice cream trucks! This has been bothering me for a while. You see...when it's hot, you want something cold to eat. Conviently, ice cream trucks come around during the hottest part of the year (it must be a conspiracy). As you may or may not know, small children swarm the ice cream trucks. The vendors even play whimsical music which I strongly suspect contains subliminal messages to make you hungry for ice cream. The vendors get oodles of cash, and the kids get ice cream. Now, in today's society of buying groceries on-line and getting them delivered, why hasn't any other food industry marketed this ingenius idea to bring the product to the consumer. I can just see Hot Dog, and Pizza trucks roaming the neighbor hoods, selling treats to hungry children...and adults. Of course, said adults would have to peel their butt-cheeks off the couch...but they'd have to do that for the delivary man anyway. The food trucks could even play music that made you hungry for their food. Then the problem with obesity in America would be blamed on evil food truck drivers as opposed to the harmless, benificient television and computer. We could all breath a sigh of relief as parents kept their children inside, away from the evil truck drivers and near the T.V. Gone would be the days when parents told children to play outside, it's a nice day. Parents would buy their children computers, video games and other television neccesities. This, of course would expand the market for such products. This would lead to a better, more stable economy. Food industires would be buying cars, gas and music. Parents would increase the purchase of entertainment items. In return companies would make a profit, pay their workers better. The workers would then be able to afford more entertainment items and the upward spiral would continue, as opposed to the evil downward spiral of my writing. In conclusion, Ladies and Gentlemen...if you implement my idea, there will be peace and prosperity for all. As long as you don't mind a few more couch potatoes. Gotta go...I think I hear a catchy jingle. I'm back...it's been awhile since I've written here. A lot has happened. Like my EVIL school computer deleting my updates page. But it's all good. Especially since I just saw The Matrix: Reloaded. The following text may spoil the movie for you, so WARNING: do no read this unless you have already seen the movie. Okay. What I liked best was the philosophy on choices. (the mindless fight scenes were really cool, too). It's like this. In the beginning of the movie, Neo is having dreams about Trinity's death. Later, The Oracle tells him that he has already decided her fate. Towards the end of the movie, Neo chooses to tell Trinity to stay out of the Matrix, since he saw her die in it. She agrees, but only after seeing how important it is to him. After a horrific chain of events (is it coincidence, or fate) the people who will deactivate the secondary power source of the building Neo is infiltrating, die. So...the plan is going to fail. Unless someone does something, Neo, Morpheus and many others will die. Trinity, who is of course outside of the Matrix, knows this and chooses to enter the Matrix to save the day. The events of Neo's dream unfold. So...when the oracle said that the choice had already been made, she was completely correct. The moment Neo woke from dreams of Trinity's death, he made a choice. He would do everything in his power to keep his dream from becoming reality. So he kept her out of the Matrix, and she saw the problem, and entered the Matrix to fix it. If she had been in the Matrix, she would have likely been with Morpheus, never would have known about the plan's failure, would therefore not have been in the situation that resulted in her death. And the plan would have failed and Neo might have died, along with a large portion of the city (the building was set to blow if there was any intruders) So...Neo's choice to attempt to save Trinity triggered the sequence of events that led to her death. As Neo realizes all of this, through a nearly omniscient Architect of the Matrix, he makes another choice. This choice is simply an extension of his original choice: he will save Trinity at all costs. Neo is told that he has two choices. He can save mankind, and doom Trinity. Or he can try to save Trinity and doom mankind. No guarantee that he'll succeed in saving Trinity. He goes for Trinity, makes it just in time to catch her body, and starts her heart back up. In return for not taking the easy route, he gains a power in the more or less real world. He can deactivate the machines, (squidies) but at great personal cost. The movie ends with him in a coma. Now, you must realize that I have described only one aspect of this movie of all movies. There are not enough words in the English language to describe the sheer coolness of the fight choreography, special effects and the plot. I highly recommend you see the movie yourself. I'm sorry that today's rant isn't random, insane or completely chaotic, but I must right my experience with The Matrix before I forget. I am so buying this movie when it comes out on DVD. I love it! You have to admit its sheer coolness. I mean, come on! It's the sequel to the movie that revolutionized the standard by which we judge special effects. I better stop typing before I have a heart attack...just remember...The Matrix has you...I'm back. And throughly pissed off at my school system in general. You see...they feel that the only way to reward academic achievement...yada-yada-yada...is to force the smart kids to be ushers for Senior Honor Nite, and Graduation. Where is the logic in this? I for one, didn't know about such dire consequences for not deliberatly failing classes. It was bad enough that I was forced to "volunteer" my precious time (i could have worked on this site)...no...I was forced to wear formal attire. My school system is stuck in the past...and formal attire means...a dress...a white dress...(for those you who never bothered to find out...I am indeed female). So...for the first time in about 5 years...I wore a dress...and something that was complelty white. What cruel fate is this? To compound the EVIL situation...I was forced to wear feminine shoes. In other words...they hurt. And they pushed my toes together. Since I have a rather weird phobia of touching my own skin...this made my evening my own personall torture session. I think that such gender-specific torture should be deemed inhumane and abolished from our great society...of flaming chickens. Henceforth...Code: 666 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that under no circumstance will the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (guess who) be forced to wear anything other than a t-shirt and preferably black jeans. Should you violate this right, you will become destroyed or possibly dizzy. I'm leaving now...I have some destruction to do. i'm back. from graduation. we had to get there one hour and fifteen minutes early because there was traffic. After standing around a lot...the ceremony started. Lots of people spoke. by the time I had to do my part (tell people where to stand before getting their diploma) it was dark. there were bugs. they liked landing on me. then...i got to go stand while people said a lot of stuff. i couldn't hear it because someone had put the speakers facing the audience. we clapped. the whole time, even during the name-calling, seniors were playing with silly string and beachballs. afterwards...they turned off the lights. there were lots of fireworks. i wandered around for 20 minutes looking for a cell phone. i called home, and waited another hour for my ride...traffic to the school was one way. i felt sorry for my dad. i am tired...but cannot go to sleep. i'll copy and paste this to my site. maybe the longest text ever. you will all suffer as i have suffered when and if you graduate. i cannot feel my feet. i hate dress shoes. I'm back. Today, I'm here to salute the Pointless Signs Of America! The PSOA have been whole-heartedly working for you, and what have you done for them? NOTHING! These so-called "pointless" signs are doing just what they were meant to do: entertain you! You cannot judge them simply because they have no apparant function. They expand your mind, making you think about all the things they could do. They could do anything they wanted to, if they just put their minds to it. If you judged everything by what it doesn't acomplish, then the entire world is populated by pointless beings. Noone can do everything, so how can you expect a SIGN, with the I.Q. of toilet paper, to do everything. You people sicken me. You expect far to much of the inanimate world. The inanimate world, on the otherhand, expects nothing of you. Which is exactly what it gets. If you expect nothing, and get nothing, you feel nothing. If you expect nothing and get something, you're happy. But, if you expect something and get something you feel nothing. And if you expect something and get nothing, you feel cheated. If you're following along, and not completly confused, you'll realize that it is better to be a pessimist than an optomist. Yep that's right. This entry went from saluting the PSOA to making a statement about my ideals. This has been a weird day. You can thank my associate "Meg" she came up with the PSOA acronym. Everyone, clap for "Meg".I gotta go...seeya later! I'm finnaly back! Today, I took a long look at this site, which is the acomplishment of almost a year of work. And I asked myself "How could I have better spent my time?" And so, in the interest of wasting even more time, I made a list. Here we go! Number One: I could have cured cancer. Not that I know anything about medicine...or cancer for that matter. But I'm sure that if I just would have put my mind to it, I could have done it. Number Two: I could helped the earth to find eternal and lasting peace. Which would be boring. So I at least have an excuse for not doing that. Number Three: I could have studied and stuff. Uh...don't think so...Number Four: I could have learned to drive. This would have resulted in the deaths of numerous pedistrians...and I would still probably be wondering around in search of a McDonalds. Number Five: I could have read more books, played more video games and watched more mindless television. Gee...I wish I'd thought of that sooner. Number Six: I could have implemented one of several plans for world domination. Or, as an alternative, I could have ruined several plans for world domination that other people made. Number Seven: I could drive people crazy. Wait...aren't I already doing that? Scratch number seven. And on to: Number Eight: I could have...uhhhh...ummmmm...actually thought up these things before hand. Number Nine: Now it's just getting redundant, isn't it? Number Ten: This is the list that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on my friend. One person, started typing it not knowing what it was, and they'll continue typing it forever just because this is the list that never ends, yes it goes on and on my friends, some person started typing it not...etc, etc. Okay...I admit it. I have officialy run out of ways I could have better spent my time. I don't think there actually are any. Except for maybe five and six. Now, those have possibilities. However, I am currently content to just sit here and type. For the benefit of you, the reader...who may or may not exist. Either way, I'm continuing to sort of entertain myself. I feel like I should be outraged about some topic or another. I just can't work up the energy to be outraged. Perhaps a nice, soothing mistrust. Yeah. I can work with mistrust. I definitly mistrust lots of stuff. Like organ grinders, and the evil conspiracies. Did you know, that Kodak was part of the conspiracy to assasinate John F. Kennedy. Now, some of you are probably thinking "Gee, Really?", or "Wow, I never knew that!" while others are thinking "Who's John F. Kennedy?" or possibly "Who or What is Kodak". I fervently hope that you're not thinking the last two...especially about Kodak. Kodak, as you may know, is a film developing company. And John F. Kennedy (JFK) was an alien bent on global domination. Or possibly a really good president who wanted to fly to the moon. Either way, he got assasinated. And ever loony in America decided that it was a conspiracy. Some even go so far as to claim that Kodak "changed" the pictures of the assasination to make an assasination in the bushes become a tree's shadow. I didn't know that they had such good technology back then. I have to wonder...why would Kodak do such a thing. Perhaps Kodak is actually a front organization for a shadowy governmental system that controls the entire world and didn't want mankind to obtain the freedom of the stars and so tried to sabotauge the space program even though it didn't work as well as they planned. Or perhaps not. Either way, Kodak is undeniably evil. How can any company that takes so many "wholesome" pictures not be? You can just bet that they look at every one that get's turned in to them, judging blackmail value, and whether or not you could get arrested. It's just sickening, you can't even take a simple photo nowadays. Unless you have a digital camera, which are a symbol of freedom from the old ways and willing enslavement to the new ways. We can only hope that the digital camera manufacturers are kinder masters than the evil Kodak Lords. I better go...I think Kodak is tracing my site....I'm back now! And, once again, I have proof that someone actually took the time (two hours) to read this entire Longest Text Ever! It's amazing, it's incredible, it's unbelievable. But true. Even more incredible, this time it's someone I don't even know! Wooooooo! I feel inspired and happy and other really good emotions and stuff. And so, I'll take a trip down memory lane, to the dark depths of the past, to when I decided to make this page. It was inspired, in part, by my sheer and utter boredom. In school, back before I even owned a computer, I'd type random words for long periods of time, 'cause I had nothing better to do. Once I got this computer, I decided to do something similar on my beloved site. But, it ended up making more sense than I anticipated (scary thought, huh). Oh, well...I tired of nostalgia. Back to the present. Right now, I'm just typing so that no one can say that I've been slacking off. I don't think I have any conspiracy theories...except pop-ups/pop-unders. Have you ever had the evil pop-up that says that if you click here, it'll get rid off all the annoying pop-ups? Isn't that sort of ironic? Could the pop-up blocker people have chosen a better means to advertise their product? It's like grand-theft auto 3's talk show, you know, the one where there are Citizens Raging Against Phones? Or CRAP, for short. And the lady representing them, calls the radio station...on a phone. It's stupid and ironic and just shouldn't exist in a better world. Pop-Up ad's help you get rid of pop-up ads? Insane, chaotic...hmmmmm...I wonder who thought of it? Was it on purpose, or was it just some mistake? It is now my civic duty to discover this ancient mystery, and reveal it to the uncaring world. Or maybe I'll go make a frozen pizza. Yeah. That sounds good, too. Since I'm not particualarly inspired at the moment, I should leave and let you gather what is left of your sanity. I just can't seem to stop, though. Okay...I can do it. I'm leaving. I'm back...and it's several hours later. I've decided to imortalize the stupidity of my dog, Moose. She is a heavy-set Yorkshire Terrior (12 lbs.) In otherwords, she's a small yappy dog who is big for her breed. Today, I met her arch-enemy. An enemy so terrifying that Moose cannot stop shaking. An enemy so hideous that Moose must destroy it at all costs. An enemy so dangerous that Moose fears it above all others. Now you may be wondering what horrible beast is Moose's arch-enemy. And you probably suspect that it is something pathetic. You would be correct in your suspiciousness...for Mooses arch-enemy is...*dramatic drumroll*...a small, white, feather. Now, Moose has seen many feathers, birds even. But none have struck terror in her little moose heart like this particular feather. So...naturally I put her arch-enemy in my pocket and brought it home with me. This action has made her very suspicious of where my loyalties lie. She tracks the feather smell all over the house, and goes crazy whenever I take it out of my pocket. She even got her sister and mother in the spirt of things. Now her sister sounds an alarm whenever she sees the evil feather. Now, you may be wondering what is so terrifying about a small, white, feather. So am I. It doesn't smell funny, (I asked my brother, since I don't have a sense of smell), it seems perfectly ordinary. So, I've decided that Moose works for some secret government organization, and that the feather is the key to the destruction of the world, and I am just blithely letting it enter our home, so that it may furthur its evil plans to destroy the universe. That is the only possible explanation as to why it upsets her so much. Or...maybe it's the feather off of the cartoon owl from the tootsie-roll pop comercials (one...two...three..*crunch*). Whatever the case, I decided that the whole world, (or three of four random people) deserve to know that if the world and or universe are destroyed, it's the evil, little, white, feather's fault. Now I'd better go and torture my Moose with it...:) I am officially back. And you, the potentially non-existant reader gets a once in a lifetime chance to hear me rant and rave about my Horrible, Horrible Family Vacation. I know. You feel very, very honored. It's like this. My mother is a control freak, and she decided on the spur of the moment that we were going north to visit relatives. Later that day, she decided we were NOT going north, we were going south to a beach resort. Still later that day, she got offended at some trivial thing and decided that we weren't going anywhere at all. The very next day, she decided that we were going north, after all. So, we packed everthing up. Before we knew it, we were on the road. The first part of the trip was fairly easy. As in, I was half-asleep, hoping that we'd arrive while I slept. Then, in an inspired move, my brother talked my mother into letting him sit up front. That meant that my mother would be in the back, with me and my younger, eviler sister. Immediatly, my mother started complaining. It was uncomfortable in the back, it was too hot, it was too cold. Then, she accidently woke our three yappy dogs up, and they relized that they were in a car. That meant only one corse of action for them. They started shaking and barked their little heads off. This annoyed my mother further, untill she asked, no, demanded that my father turn the car around so that we could go home. Unfortuantly, we had already driven 337 miles toward our destination. After much argument, my father was going to turn around, untill he realized that my mother was going to drop the dogs and me off, and then turn around and continue north. This seemed slightly unpracticle, so we ended up not taking that 337 mile detour. We eventually reached our destination after 16 hours of virtually non-stop driving. We got there, we ate. We slept. My mother visited relatives. And so the week went by. I got to go to a huge library, and see Terminator 3 at the local theater. That was the high point of the entire trip. The last day, we were deciding where to eat. My mom said that she didn't care. So my dad picked a steak place. My mother tried to order a mushroom-swiss burger...only to discover that the place had no swiss-cheese. So she decided on a salad, only to discover that they didn't have her favorite salad dressing. After much deliberation, she decided that she wouldn't eat. After complaining how hungry she was, and about the poor quality of the resteraunt, she walked out of the resteraunt, instructing the rest of us to "enjoy our meals". And I wonder where my little sister gets her annoyingness. Not that my mother is annoying...just set in her ways. The whole meal thing was about the only interesting thing to happen during the week. On the way home, we had gotten approximatly 4 hours into the trip when my mother predicatably decided that we had to go back and eat at the 50th aniversary of her favorite ice cream place. Needless to say, we ignored her. Oh, and when my sister had to go to the bathroom very badly during a traffic jam, my mother had the good taste to making hissing/water noises to make my sister's problem worse. She claimed that my little sister always did it to her, and she was getting pay-back. Between her bickering with my sister, and obsessivly playing neopets games, I don't know what to do with her. Anyway...that was my family vacation rant. It sucked. No suprise. At least it's over. Sorry if I complained a lot. If you don't like it, start your own longest text ever. Anyway, I promise to go back to my usual routine the next time I rant here. I thought of a topic on the way home, but forgot it. Seeya. I'm back! I know, I took you completly by suprise. You thought you'd gotten rid of me. *cheesy super-hero voice* Well, fear not, random citizen, for I, PSOPC am here! *normal voice* Today I have a very important to discuss with you in this: PERFECTLY NORMAL PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCMENT. Yes, that's right. It's time to warn you, the viewer...er...reader...about the evils of various stuff. Today's lesson is: subliminal messages . That's right, folks, mass hypnosis via commercials. Now, I'm sure you've at least heard of subliminal messages , right? No? Well...prepare to be enlightened. Subliminal messages are an advertising technique that puts hidden pictures and words into a main image. You don't see them, but your subconsious (dreaming) mind does. Your subconsious mind acts on whatever it is told. What does this mean to you? It means that WAL-MART TV IS EVIL! EVIIIIIIIIIIIIL!!!!!! Why else would they invest all that money to show commercials in their own store? Because they put subliminal messages in them, of course! Subliminal messanging also explains the successes of certain fast-food resteraunts, and brand name items. BEWARE YOUR TOASTER OVEN! Okay. That had nothing to do whatsoever with subliminal messages...it's just cool to say. Anyway, only watch wal-mart if you WANT to be subliminaly entertained into purchasing a new set of TUPERWARE, even though your old set is PERFECTLY fine. This has been a public service announcment. Pretty cool, huh? Uh...you don't have to take the subliminal stuff seriously. It's true, and all, but I have no proof about wal-mart, or certain fast food resteraunts. It makes sense, though. Wal-mart TV is evil. You cannot deny it. Seeya...hmmm..I wonder if there's subliminal stuff in my computer...I'm back. And I feel that it's time for a FAKE commercial break, for the highly informed, obviously brain-dead consumer. And now, a word from our non-existant sponsor. Ketchup: The only food that you'll want to eat after traveling to the 5th Dimension. It's been practically proven that Ketchup transforms into a highly intoxicating (non-addictive) delicious substance upon returning from the 5th Dimension. Stock up now with our Valu-Pak to recieve 3-metric tons of Ketchup, all for the low, low price of your brain, since you're obviously not using it anyway. Then, just wait for technology to "catch-up" (get it, catch-up, Ketchup?)so you can travel to the 5th Dimension like our scientists almost did. (Next Commercial) Get ready fo: Faux's new "reality" TV show, "How Low Can We Go?" It's about six contestants who compete to create the worst, least likely "reality" TV show. The winner not only gets the million-dollar prize, they get the chance to produce the show they created. Remember: if the show sucks, it's their fault, not ours!(Next exciting commercial!)And for all the idiots out there: Try new and improved Dum-B-Gon! Dum-B-Gon stimulates brain activity, making you up to 10 times smarter! Not only that, Dum-B-Gon: stimulates weight loss, cures "any" illness, does simple houshold chores, never leaves the toilet seat up and is the perfect gentle companion for your kids. How can you pass up this revolutionary new product? It's yours for only 3 bi-monthly payments of $3.95 ($3,95,000 on days ending in "y")Don't forget, Dum-B-Gon is practically guaranteed!* (*Not a guarantee) (Next commercial)Have you ever wondered why food sometimes goes bad in your fridge, even if you've only had it a few years? It's because of the "evil little faeries with sharp little teeth." These "faeries" sprinkle your food with highly toxic "age dust" and ruin a perfectly good four-year-old meatloaf. How do you stop them? With our patented "spray". Our "spray" kills over 99.9% of "faeries" (which are much to small to see) Our "spray" also kills most disease causing agents, like rats, or pigeons. WARNING: Leave food sit in an open, well-venilated spot for a week before eating. And now, back to our featured presentation. Wasn't that semi-entertaining? I bet you wanna go eat some Ketchup covered Dum-B Gon right now, while watching "reality" TV. Just make sure you "spray" your food first. Pathetic, wasn't it? Oh, well. I was bored, and a dilligent reader suggested I make fake commercials, so...therer they are. Happy? Good. I'm leavin', for now. I'm back. And I'm willing to enlighten you, the potentially you-know-what reader. Today, I was checking out some weird news. At one point, I read an article that stated that it had been proven, conclusivly, that Kansas was flatter than the standard pancake. The researches even used highly advanced technololgy to map the surface of a pancake and compare it to documented geology of Kansas. Some people disagree, the director of the Kansas Geological Survey said "I think this is part of a vast breakfast food conspiracy to denigrate Kansas. It's a cheap shot." So...doesn't that make you want to take Kansas' side (I sincerly appologize if you are from Kansas). It just seems extremly weird (and worthy of mentioning) that this semi-important guy from Kansas believes in a "vast breakfast food conspiracy". Makes you think that the long held belief that Kodak conspired with the JFK assasin(s) is normal. Another article claims that an anitseptic turned a polar bear purple, drawing large crowds of people. I sure hope other zoos won't copy them. Before you know it, we'll have orange alligators, pink tigers and blue lions. School children won't be able to correctly identify the color of a zebra. Random people will think they've gone crazy, after a seemingly innocent visit to the zoo. It's wrong, I tell you. A complete and total degregation of our societies values. What values, you say? The basic moral belief that Polar bears should be WHITE. Unless we spray-painted the snow purple, too. Then it would be okay. As long as the bear blends in, you know? Speaking of animals, there's a cat in California who is a kleptomaniac (likes to steal stuff). He sneaks into neighboring homes, and takes clothing, wrapped christmas presents, and anything he can find. He then leaves them under his owners car. Okay, better leave. I'm back. And I don't really have a topic today. I'm just bored. Sometimes I just do this, you know? Start typing without any idea about what it is I intend to say. Maybe I subconsiously DO know what I'm doing here, but refuse to admit it to myself. Or maybe I am monumentally bored and don't have anything else to do at the moment. Either way, I'm here. You must be pretty bored, too. Otherwise, why on earth (beta, krpto, zkdjf, Planet X, whatever) would you be here? It would make no sense. If you have something better to do, why wouldn't you be doing it right now? I would be. But, maybe that's just the difference between you and me. Yeah. That must be it. Unless you're bored. Then I completly understand. I need to find a topic. Here, topic, topic, topic! Come on, I won't hurt you, I promise! *hides large ax behind back* Come here, topic! Why are you afraid of little ol' me? *sigh* There are no topics anywhere near me. Kinda like me and "Meg" webcomic we are trying to do. It's called Hit-Or-Miss, any topics, plot, etc. are completly accidental and are not the fault/responsibility of the creators. That was sort of a topic, even though it was sort of random. Which is what I do best. Okay, I'm done with that litte commercial. What now...hmmmmm...should I share with you more of my paranoid/delusional conspiracy theories? Or have I been doing that too much lately? Oooooo! I know, I'll start of list of why it's fun/good to be insane/weird! #1You can say or do anything and normal people will agree with you in the hopes that you'll be satisfied, shut up, and go away. Far away. I will show you an example with this completly true stuff that I experienced several years ago. ME: My vicious, psychotic, flesh-eating bunny-rabbit wants to rule the world. RANDOM PERSON: Uh-huh, that's nice. ME: Yeah, but I told her that she'd be a terible ruler. I mean, she traded Asia for a carrot! And she doesn't even LIKE carrots! RANDOM PERSON: You don't say? ME: Yep. She also is the goddess of red jello. RANDOM PERSON: *head explouding from sheer insanity* As you can see, I was a very weird child (this happened in elementary school...uh...except for that head-explouding part). Okay...on to: #2 You can get out of practically anything by saying: a)It's against my religion b)I'm allergic to that. c)I have an extremly irrational fear of that. d)I already did that in a past life and it sucked. e)My psychotic bunny predicted I'd die doing it. Unfortunalty, several of those reasons LEGITAMITLY apply to a certain activity I do every Tuesday, which WILL NOT BE NAMED HERE LEST I GIVE IT POWER OVER ME! I'm allergic to parts of it, have irrational fears about others and I'm pretty sure it's against my Jenny religion...along with eating mashed potatoes, or potatoes of any kind. I'll add that to the FLAMING CHICKENS HANDBOOK. Thou shalt not eat spuds. Hmmmm...time for #3You can obsessive over ANYTHING, and people will think nothing of it. I, personally, am obsessed with, kitties, bunnies, bats, this website, drawing, making intriate little patterns with strings, doing mildly repetitive activities, being weird, apparantly making lists and cheese...and chickens...and flame. Fire is good. Fire is free. Fire is my friend...until it burns me. Then it must die...painfully. And on to:#4You make your friends look normal in comparison. And #5: You can give each of your pets several weird names such as: Ringling-Raison-Bailey-Suzana-Midnight-Schultz, Squirell, Moose, Moose-Moose, Moosey-Moose, Linzey-Moose, Muffin, Squirell-Muffin, Yabby-Doodle, Abby Normal, Wiggle-Baby, Wiggle-Muffin, Witle-Baby, Cheese-Monkey, Muffin-With-Squirell-Juice, Squirell-With-Muffin Juice, Moosey-Juice, Squirell-Monkey, etc. Now, wasn't that a fun list!? Doesn't that just make you proud to be weird? I should make bumber stickers saying that. Proud to be weird. It'd be cool. Anyway, gotta go! *yawn* I'm back. Last night I was super-charged with lots of sugar and not a lot of sleep. I ended up writing things during the time of night when EVERYTHING is hilarious, including the word sheep. To compound things, I wasn't alone, and things just escalated. The following is everything I wrote during that sugar-coated time period. Some are answers to e-mails, the rest are just stuff I wrote.

Definitly. THen we go to library. Guess what? Me and Josh ate lots and lots of sugar, and it's late at nite and everything is funny but we can't laugh 'cause everybody is sleepin' so it's even funnier but ever since we drank the water we sobered up even though we weren't drunk but we ate sugar...lots and lots of sugar. MOstly donut cake. Okay. JOsh says it was only one piece of cake. WE got it at Wal-mart. Or his mom did. OR something. Goodbye..

#long post

20 notes · View notes

saintcanardmoved · 5 years ago

Text

Oh god. I didn’t know this blog would suddenly receive so much attention. Please, I am begging you to not scroll down. It’s endless MysticMessenger posts from two years ago.

#long post

2 notes · View notes

sirrobin126 · 7 years ago

Text

Heads up: Very Long post about Lionel Luthor and Martha Kent

Oh my, how glad i am that you spontaneously decided to ask me about that. You could have chosen any ship in the world and yet, here we are, I guess i’ll just have to think of something for Mionel on the fly then.

Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling/vice versa

Martha pushes the pull door but she never gets angry about it, she either silently corrects herself or has a little giggle at the fact that she didn’t read the easily observable sign. It’s not a big inconvenience so it doesn’t bother her, and usually if she misses the sign it’s because she has something more useful to do anyway. Lionel almost never pushes a pull door because he applies the “ten steps ahead” model to his entire life and his commitment to the “Master of the Universe Dramatic Entrance” #aesthetic would be crushed if he messed up something as simple as opening a door. That being said, sometimes he gets so hyper focused on an issue that he will walk headfirst into a door that he didn’t realise was there, and heaven forbid you be in his path for the rest of the day after that.

Who doodles little hearts all over the desk with their initials inside them

I feel like this is a no-brainer for Mr “I write about Martha in my diary so much my Earth 2 self falls in love with her”, but it’s defs Lionel. Martha is much more about verbal and physical confirmations of affection but Lionel’s not so great at being vulnerable or expressing feelings in words. Declamatory gestures and gifts are far more his thing (also he’s a giant nerd who of course draws little hearts with martha’s name in his diary).

Who starts the tickle fights

Lionel. Martha is ticklish and he isn’t. Never reveal a weakness in front of a Luthor.

Who starts the pillow fights

Well they’re both grown adults so they don’t really have pillow fights, but Martha. Lionel never expects it of her, and ends up copping a pillow directly to the face, leading to feelings of betrayal and wounded pride.

Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile

Okay well, this is obvious on the surface considering the frequency and softness with which he looks at her is beyond compare. Lionel gets to sleep very late, and has trouble disengaging his mind so of course he watches Martha, smiling because he can hardly conceive that someone so perfect exists in the world. However, Martha wakes up very early, a habit bred of the fact that she spent most of her adult life on the farm. Now that she works at an office she doesn’t know how to break herself out of the habit, so she either gets up and makes breakfast, or she sits in bed, enjoying the first bit of laziness she’s had in forty ears and watching Lionel. Sometimes it’s because he looks more peaceful, but most of the time it’s the opposite, Lionel talks in his sleep and tends to have a lot of dreams where he argues with people. It amuses Martha to no end, hearing the ridiculous things he debates whilst asleep.

Who mistakes salt for sugar

Neither of them. Martha’s a big believer in tasting all her ingredients before she cooks them and has just developed the habit of dipping her finger into the spoon before she pours it in. Lionel, on the other hand, hasn’t set foot in a kitchen since 1983 when he tried to make a batch of popcorn (which he burnt) so he doesn’t have much opportunity for mistaking ingredients at all. It’s never happened as a prank either, because who would want to prank Martha Kent? And Lionel is notoriously difficult to prank because he’s so paranoid that he suspects multiple ulterior motives on the simplest of exchanges.

Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1am in the morning

Well, Martha would never because she is both competent in the kitchen and a kind person. Lionel, however, has as much experience in the kitchen as he does with altruism. Until he starts wanting to impress Martha that is, and he beings making her stuff in the kitchen (sandwiches, pasta, and anything that he can read how to do off the packet). Then he learns how to use an oven and a microwave and, to his dismay, develops a love of two minute noodles. Martha would be too considerate to let the microwave beep, but a noodle seeking Lionel will often be heard at one am, first by a loud beeping, then a louder swear as Lionel realises he forgot to press the button.

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines

Neither of them really do cheesy. Martha is a very sincere and sweet person, and Lionel is so besotted that he has no choice but to be sincere in response. However, sometimes his praise of her is so over-the-top and his personality is so #dramatique that he could come off as cheesy if he weren’t entirely committed to the dramatic in every aspect of his life.

Who rearranges the bookshelf in alphabetical order

Lionel.

“It just makes sense. Why- why wouldn’t you put them in order? Doing it by subject is ridiculous unless you employ some sort of decimal system, otherwise it becomes chaotic as many books have multiple subjects and themes.

I understand separating fiction and non-fiction, but, why do the books with blue covers have their own shelf? This is…this is a nightmare. Please stop laughing at me, Martha.”

Lionel’s library is entirely ordered and searchable via his own personal computer catalogue. Martha just knows where she puts things, and if she doesn’t, she’ll look around for it near other books like it. She doesn’t mind Lionel putting the books in order, but if he thinks she’s going to stop putting books she’s just finished at the end of the bookcase so that she can find it again, he’s got another thing coming.

Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies

Martha not only tastes ingredients for their freshness, she can’t help but taste a product before putting it in the oven. Lionel doesn’t even think about licking the spoon. The brownie is what comes after the baking, why would he eat the lesser product just for the instant gratification? Martha admires his willpower in waiting for the finished product, but once it’s out of the oven, his patience vanishes. Lionel doesn’t like to wait. He will do it, but once he sees the benefits outweigh the cost he will spring. This has more than once led to a certain billionaire’s mouth being burnt and sore, somehow Lionel never decides the cost of a burnt mouth outweighs the benefit of hot brownie.

Who buys candles for dinners even though there’s no special occasion

Lionel. Remember when I said Lionel was all about gestures. He may not always be able to express what he feels, but he will damn sure light up the dining room whenever he can for no reason other than to make Martha feel special.

Who draws little tattoos on the other with a pen

Martha. I know, according to the veritas plot line (fucking veritas) that Lionel is the artist, but he tends to keep his stuff more private, and has to be dragged into drawing in front of anyone else. Martha needs to have busy hands so she just picks up a pen and scribbles on whatever is lying around. When she takes messages on the phone she’ll write on anything: old bills, newspapers, her hand or Lionel’s if it’s lying too close. Lionel doesn’t mind, of course he doesn’t, how could he? It makes him smile every time she shows him that casual affection, she doesn’t even realise it, but he treasures those moments like they’re pure gold (or wacky alien tech, which is apparently his major obsession)

Who comes home with a new souvenir magnet every time they go on vacation

Lionel has to go on conferences and shit all over the country. He always wants to buy Martha ridiculous gifts from everywhere, but she won’t have any of it. Instead he buys her the classiest memento he can that doesn’t cost more than the Kent Farm. When Martha has to start going to places for her senatorial duties, she does the same thing, sort of. Martha gets a kind of sadistic pleasure out of seeing Lionel have to pretend to really aesthetically appreciate a tacky magnet in the shape of a cowboy hat with a bad joke about beer written on it, and then sticking it to his pristine fridge next to other magnets in the shape of a corn cob a big pair of red lips, respectively.

Who convinces the other to fill out those couple surveys in the back of magazines

Martha does, but she doesn’t take anything they say seriously. Lionel is reluctant to take them at all, and if they give him an answer he doesn’t like, or he think’s is accurate, you better believe he’ll call the editor to complain.

Martha can’t prove it, but she’s sure he actually bought one of the magazine companies after a quiz said that they were only a 44% match. She just happened to notice that the quizzes always seemed a little more rigorous and scientifically based after Lionel got upset with them.

Lionel definitely did buy the magazine, but he didn’t tell Martha because he was worried that Martha would think he’d overreacted.

He definitely overreacted.

Thanks @justanotherfan, I can always count on you to care about Mionel, sorry it’s so rambling, I just have so many feelings.

#oh my god #that's such a long post and i'm so sorry to everyone who doesn't give a shit about any of this #but I had to write about it #i had to #also i know this is super cutesy and defs ignoring the fact that lionel is a horrible person and that mionel could never end happily #but what am i best at if not ignoring the fact that Lionel is horrible and mionel is doomed #my fic

14 notes · View notes

magic-magpie · 7 years ago

Text

Revision’s Never Been This Fun

I wrote this a while ago, during Easter time. I was revising for my exams, and I decided to make a ~ fun revision tool ~ by writing a fanfiction of Arthur and Alfred studying for their exams. I was supposed to make more for my other sciences, but I got lazy. I thought I’d upload this here in honour of me getting my results in about four hours.

Warning: There are Chemistry facts (those are in bold in case you want them for E X A M K N O W L E D G E), Chemistry jokes, sex jokes, and Chemistry sex jokes. Yes you read that right.

3,605 words.

Expect crack.

“Alfreeeeeeeeed...”

“Jeez, that’s the fifth time you’ve moaned my name in three minutes. If I couldn’t see your hands I’d have thought you were jacking off.”

“... Jacking off isn’t actually a bad idea. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to masturbate. Don’t mind me.”

“Wait, Artie, what’re you- Artie get your hands out from there and put them up!”

Sighing reluctantly, Arthur lifted his hands up into the air, but promptly dropped them in favour of flopping down onto the table in front of him- a table laden with textbooks, revision folders, highlighters, discarded chocolate wrappers, and cans of various fizzy drinks. He was at Alfred’s (who he was happy to say was his boyfriend) house for the entirety of the Easter holidays, as the two of them knew that they revised better when together. They were in Year Eleven, which meant that their GCSEs (A.K.A. their most important exams to date), were just over a month away. So no, Arthur was not at Alfred’s house to have fun, as you might have thought. Sure, they had played games and such, but most of their time was spent with their heads buried in soul-sucking textbooks that would be their salvation.

Today, however, Arthur was just not feeling it. By that he meant less than usual. Well, he never felt it, but he never felt it less... It made sense in his head.

“Relax, Alfred. I’d rather have sex with you than wank in front of you... Much more exciting, don’t you think?” Arthur said, smirking salaciously up at Alfred from his slumped position on the table as Alfred rolled his blue eyes that Arthur had come to adore.

“I’d rather our first time be somewhere more romantic than bent over a table and fucked over empirical formulas and Fleming’s Left Hand Rule,” Alfred replied, grinning in spite of himself, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. Arthur could see the humour of the situation; he was normally the one telling Alfred to get back to work, not this way round.

“I don’t know, being bent over the table and roughly pounded into from behind by your large cock would certainly be a pleasant-“

“Are you always this freakin’ dirty when you’re hella bored, or what?” Alfred remarked, laughing. “Besides, you haven’t even seen my dick.”

“That can be easily remedied,” Arthur purred, licking his lips and wiggling his thick eyebrows suggestively, making the both of them burst into peals of unadulterated laughter.

“Okay,” Alfred finally said, wiping away a tear and readjusting his silver-framed glasses, “as much as I’d love to re-enact your favourite porn book, I think revising for exams is more important. Then we can go have sex anywhere and everywhere.”

“Even the mattress store?”

“Even the mattress store.”

“What about in a play gym?”

“Sure, after the kids have all gone.”

“...We can totally do it in Fortnum and Mason’s, right?”

“You’re trying to distract me again, aren’t you?”

“...Fuck.”

Alfred lightly slapped Arthur upside the head, and went back to poring over his Physics textbook, his eyes roving over the evil printed words. Arthur sighed, knowing that he shouldn’t disrupt Alfred any more. They had had their banter, that was enough. Every moment was precious. He wasn’t at Alfred’s house to lark about- he was there to study.

So it was that Arthur sat up straight in his chair, and focused his attention onto the thick textbook in front of him- Chemistry. Alright... It wasn’t his worst subject (that was Maths, he kept scoring Bs in that), so he should, theoretically, be able to concentrate better. It was easier to concentrate when he didn’t feel like all life was hopeless because he understood nothing on the bloody page.

The primordial soup theory states that billions of years ago, the Earth’s atmosphere contained hydrocarbons (e.g. methane), ammonia, and other gases. Lightning struck, causing a-

Arthur groaned loudly, smacking his head against the book. He hated Chemistry. Well, it wasn’t that he hated learning about the subject. He just hated studying it. But for all intents and purposes of this situation, he hated Chemistry.

“You alright there, dude?” Alfred said, chuckling.

“No. I mean, what the fuck is a primordial soup theory?! This is Chemistry, not fucking Food Technology! If I wanted to learn about bloody soup, I’d have signed myself up for Food Tech!” Arthur ranted.

“I thought the reason you didn’t take Food Tech was that the teacher actually banned you from the kitchens ever since you set fire to the chicken stir fry in Year Eight?” Alfred reminded, earning himself a glare from Arthur.

“I-it’s a mixture of both!” Arthur retorted defensively.

“What’s a mixture?”

“Huh?” Arthur asked, baffled.

“What’s the scientific definition of a mixture?” Alfred elaborated, an expectant smile on his face.

Oh. Alfred was quizzing him. He should be grateful. The bloke was trying to help him revise.

“Isn’t it...” Arthur started, deliberating over his words, “Two or more compounds or molecules not chemically bonded together?

“Pretty much, yeah!” Alfred replied, grinning. “The textbook definition is ‘a substance made from two or more elements or compounds that aren’t chemically bonded to each other’, but you’ve got the gist of it!”

“Nice,” Arthur said, fairly pleased with himself. All he needed to remember was the ‘substance’ part and that it was ‘elements and compounds’, not elements and molecules.

“Here’s your reward,” Alfred said, and suddenly crawled onto the table to kiss Arthur’s forehead, a light pink tinge to his cheeks when he sat back down. Arthur blinked, feeling himself blush slightly. Sure, he was full of dirty phrases, but the truth was that the two had only kissed once.

“Y-you only got a forehead kiss ‘cause your answer wasn’t entirely accurate. If you get a completely right answer, then you’ll get something better,” Alfred explained, lifting his gaze to meet Arthur’s once again. He seemed to gain more confidence in this method when he saw Arthur’s smile.

“I’d better be getting kiss after kiss,” Arthur said.

“If not, then you’ll just have to revise until we’ll be making out by the end of it!”

Arthur waited expectantly for his question as Alfred rifled through the Chemistry book, hoping that he’d be able to answer it correctly - both for a kiss, and his own peace of mind. For Arthur hated to get things wrong.

“What is cracking?”

“...The breaking down of long-chain hydrocarbons into short-chain hydrocarbons by way of thermal decomposition?” Arthur answered, a little hesitantly. Alfred’s beaming smile told him that he had got it entirely correct, making him smile too.

“Yup! Well, the definition doesn’t say anything about thermal decomposition, but it is a thermal decomposition reaction, so you’re allowed it. Which is cool, because now I get to, um...”

“Kiss me.”

“Yeah. That.”

Alfred hoisted himself up onto the table and crawled across to Arthur, who already has his head tilted upwards, his bottle-green eyes warm and welcoming. The American flashed him a slightly-nervous smile as he bent down and met Arthur’s lips with his own. The kiss was sweet and loving, and tasted of chocolate and fizzy drinks- a mixture that shouldn’t have worked, but did. Worked very well indeed.

They pulled apart- albeit a little reluctantly- and Alfred went back to his seat, his face just the tiniest bit flushed. Arthur could sense that his own countenance was the same.

“Well...” Arthur said, feeling a smile tug at his lips, “...That was cracking.”

The two stared at each other- then they were laughing, loudly and raucously, both still a little giddy from their kiss.

“It’s a pity our ‘cracking’ kiss didn’t produce any alkanes or alkenes...” Alfred said, giggling.

“It was definitely a thermal decomposition reaction, though. I mean, that was hot,” Arthur added, grinning from ear to ear.

“How hot does the vaporised long-chain hydrocarbon need to be in cracking?”

It took Arthur a second to realise that Alfred was asking him a question. He was too busy thinking of how much exams had affected them that they were now making Chemistry jokes.

“Oh, um...” Arthur racked his brains for this piece of important trivia. Come on, Arthur! It’s probably the most simple thing you’ve ever come across! He knew it was 400ºC to something, but what was that something?

“...400ºC to 800ºC?” Arthur replied tentatively, pouting in annoyance when Alfred groaned.

“Dude, you were so close! It was 400º to 700ºC!”

“Oh for Heaven’s sake, I was debating that, too! You have no idea how painful this is. So, to crack something,” Arthur said, going over the process. Who knows, perhaps Alfred would give him a kiss for his Extra Credit efforts, “you vaporise the long-chain hydrocarbon by heating it to a temperature of 400ºC to 700ºC, and then pass this hot-as-hell vapour over a catalyst, usually aluminium oxide. The vapour ‘breaks’ into different, shorter-chain hydrocarbons.”

“That’s exactly it!” Alfred said happily, “Well, instead of saying ‘vapour’, say ‘long-chain hydrocarbons’, and say ‘split apart’ or ‘crack’ instead of ‘break’, but you’ve got it!”

“I always had it, no need to patronise me,” Arthur huffed, although there wasn’t any real disgruntlement in his voice. He knew Alfred wasn’t being patronising on purpose.

“Aw, are you being a grumpy-guts?” Alfred said teasingly, earning himself a kick under the table.

“To quote Orianthi, shut up and kiss me,” Arthur said, smirking despite the blush that had arisen once again, “I earned it.”

“You sure did, Artie,” Alfred agreed, crawling across to kiss the blond Englishman once again, even gaining the courage to (hesitantly) put his hands on the back of Arthur’s head and ever so gently pull him into the kiss more. Arthur’s heart beat faster at this, and he didn’t even make a conscious effort to respond, but he ended up taking hold of Alfred’s loose Captain America tee-shirt and pulling him closer just a bit, just enough to let Alfred know that such actions were fine with him.

“Next question?” Alfred said once he had sat back down, his lips just a little bit redder and shinier from being kissed. Arthur couldn’t help but think the look was brilliant on him.

“Bring it.”

“Okay, how d’ya make an unsaturated oil hard, and what are the conditions?”

Arthur bit his lip, tapping his finger erratically on the table. He felt pressured to get this right, as if Alfred was silently begging him to be correct. He knew it was by using hydrogenation... Now he just had to remember the conditions required for hydrogenation...

“Ah, I’ve got it!” Arthur exclaimed excitedly, practically giving a little jump in his seat. “You make it hard using hydrogenation, which is reacting the unsaturated oil with hydrogen in the presence of a nickel catalyst at 60ºC! The unsaturated oil’s double carbon to carbon bonds are then opened up, because bonds are formed with the hydrogen!”

“Correct, correct, and even more correct!” Alfred responded just as excitedly, his wide smile mirroring Arthur’s. This time, he wasted no time in getting up onto the table and eagerly pressing his lips against Arthur’s, the both of them immediately melting into the kiss, Alfred’s hands already in Arthur’s hair, and Arthur’s not wasting even a second before they were tugging at Alfred’s shirt, pulling his wonderful boyfriend closer to him. He loved the taste of Alfred, the scent of Alfred, the feel of Alfred. Arthur and Alfred fit together like the coastlines of South America and South Africa- perfectly, like jigsaw pieces. Wegener would approve of their relationship, as it mimicked one of his pieces of evidence for continental drift. Arthur liked the sound of that; he enjoyed the idea that their relationship on the small island of Britain was reminiscent of something so large-scale, so irrefutable.

Needing air, the two broke apart, resting their foreheads against one another contentedly, akin to two reactive atoms that had formed a covalent bond with each other and were now happy and stable. Viridescent eyes met cerulean ones, and the two smiled at each other, not really wanting to get out of their current position.

“...Hey, Alfred?”

“Yeah?”

Arthur coughed, his smile replaced by a cheeky grin, “I have a question for you.”

“Fire away. Revision’s revision, no matter who’s giving the questions.” Alfred responded, looking ready.

“So, we know how to make an unsaturated oil hard, but do you know how to make me hard?” Arthur asked. He had tried to keep a straight face, but his lips had uncontrollably stretched into a grin, one which only widened as Alfred spluttered and stammered before laughing with hilarity. His cheerful laugh was like music to Arthur’s ears (he could go into sound waves and all that, but that was Physics, and Physics was a story for another day), pure, wholesome, and joyous. Arthur wouldn’t have minded if that was all he ever heard for the rest of his life.

“I don’t think I should react you with hydrogen...”

“Please don’t- hydrogen’s extremely flammable. Which is, incidentally, one of the disadvantages of using hydrogen gas as a fuel. One of the advantages is that reacts with oxygen to form only water, making it very clean,” Arthur informed matter-of-factly. However, his demeanour changed when Alfred suddenly leant down so that his lips were just next to Arthur’s ear, softly brushing it, his breath gently tickling it.

“The exact opposite of you then, huh?” Alfred whispered, and Arthur shivered, “You, with all your dirty thoughts that would put even the most perverted person to shame. You, with your dirty desires of bending me over this table and taking me right here. You, with your dirty burning need of hearing me scream your name in unbridled pleasure, moaning Arthur at the top of my voice. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Arthur stared, completely taken aback by Alfred's provocative words. He had had no idea that Alfred, of all people, was able to use the mere power of his words to make him all hot and bothered- hotter than the iron and nickel core of the Earth.

"So?" Alfred said, pulling back from Arthur's ear and smirking coyly, "Did I answer your question correctly?"

He was redder than anything, but there was something alluring about his flushed cheeks combined with his seductive, beautiful smile. Arthur looked down at his crotch, and quickly crossed his legs, feeling himself redden. If there was one thing able to turn him on in the world, it would be Alfred.

"Answering by demonstration, I like it," Arthur said, "You've made me harder than high-carbon steel, and that's saying something."

Next thing they knew, they were laughing.

"I was trying to be sexy, and then you just compared your erection to a freakin' alloy!" Alfred chortled. Arthur shrugged in response.

"We are doing Chemistry revision, I might as well. But anyway, you need your reward, don't you?"

Alfred let out a little yelp as Arthur pulled him down into a bruising kiss, their lips clashing and moulding together perfectly. Spurred on by his hard-on that wouldn't go away, Arthur cautiously flicked out his tongue to run it across Alfred's lower lip, and then broke it off, his heart racing and his breaths quicker. Alfred was staring at him, wide-eyed behind his thick glasses. His blue eyes, looking much like the water vapour which had condensed into oceans when the Earth had cooled all those millions of years ago, were alight with amazement, and perhaps something a bit more... Lustful. The American slowly brought his hands up to touch his lip softly, as if remembering the feel of Arthur's tongue. Arthur himself had enjoyed his little trial, and yearned for more.

"...Let's answer some more questions," Alfred said, seating himself back down in his chair. Arthur smiled, knowing that this was Alfred's way of saying 'Holy hell that was awesome and I can't get enough'.

"Let's see..." Alfred muttered, flicking through the textbook at top-speed, "Ah, here's one! Now, this is a three-part question, and you have to get all three parts for a proper kiss."

"Challenge accepted," Arthur said.

"What's produced when calcium carbonate reacts with an acid?"

The answer came tumbling off Arthur's lips without thought, "A calcium salt, carbon dioxide, and water."

"Part one- correct! So, for part two, what's the salt produced when calcium carbonate reacts with sulfuric acid?"

"Calcium sulfate.”

"Two down, one to go! What's the salt produced when calcium carbonate reacts with hydrochloric acid?"

"Tch, that's not even hard - Calcium hydroxide."

"All three correct, kudos Artie!" Alfred slid himself across the table to eagerly catch Arthur's lips in a kiss. Arthur responded by teasing Alfred's bottom lip with his tongue, and almost gasped when Alfred parted his lips. It was only a small parting, but it was still there, was still a bold, daring move. Alfred was inviting him in, was giving him his permission. Smiling under the kiss, Arthur's hands wandered upwards to place themselves at the back of Alfred's head, his fingers tangled up in Alfred's soft golden hair. And then, then he slowly slid his tongue into Alfred's mouth, and it was as if ethanol, biodiesel, and hydrogen gas had all been burnt to give the two a sudden surge of energy (only alternative fuels, not fossil fuels; their love did not increase global warming). Their kiss was suddenly fiercer, tugging at each other, needing bodily contact. They were in such a heated passion that Arthur had barely realised that Alfred had slid off the table and onto his crossed legs until he felt Alfred rub against his thigh. A moan escaped the American's lips, and then Arthur did the same, glorying in the breathtaking kiss he and Alfred were sharing, like two atoms sharing an electron in a covalent bond. Their relationship was not similar to ionic bonding, where one gives and the other gets. No, they shared every bit of love they had And, just like covalent bonds, the bond Arthur and Alfred had was strong, brilliantly strong.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their breaths mingling like the mixture of vapours in a fractional distillation column. They were gazing at each other with amazement and bewilderment, the fact that they had just made out for the first time still sinking in. Arthur’s hands had travelled south to Alfred’s hips and were keeping them close to his own, whereas one of Alfred’s hands was on Arthur’s back, and the other was fisted in Arthur’s hair.

“...I kind of wish my dick was a calcium hydroxide solution,” Arthur said before he could stop himself. It was as if his mind-to-mouth filter had been switched off for the day. Alfred blinked, looked at him oddly, rolled his eyes, then grinned.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Why the hell do you wish for your dick to be limewater?” He said with a chuckle.

“Because then I could ask you to blow it without sounding dirty. I could say that it was for science. We could be testing your breath for carbon dioxide,” Arthur explained, grinning when Alfred laughed harder. He loved to make Alfred laugh.

“But then your dick would turn cloudy, and that would be rather strange,” Alfred pointed out.

“What, and a liquid dick wouldn’t be?”

“...Good point. Y’know, I’d rather blow your dick as it is, rather than some weird liquid... Solid... Thing,” Alfred said, his eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to imagine just what a calcium hydroxide solution dick would even look like.

“Plus, the results we’d get would be rather inaccurate, don’t you think? Calcium hydroxide reacted with carbon dioxide makes calcium carbonate and water,” Arthur informed.

“What would the products of our ‘experiment’ be?” Alfred questioned.

“Cum, and a flushed, panting Arthur.”

“...This experiment actually sounds pretty good,” Alfred commented, laughing. He then retracted back to his seat across the table, and picked up the Chemistry textbook once again. Arthur smiled, admiring the sublime view of Alfred (and no, he did not mean the Chemistry definition of sublime); the way his hair looked like it had been made of sunlight, the deep blue of his eyes, the way he seemed to give out energy to his surroundings, much like an exothermic reaction.

“What?” Alfred said, finally sensing Arthur’s gaze on him. Arthur blinked, having been pulled out of his reverie by the loud (albeit addicting) American voice.

“Oh, nothing... Just wondering how far we’ll end up going by the end of this revision session. I mean, after six questions you were already on my lap. We’ll be fucking in all kinds of positions by the end of Chemistry Unit One,” Arthur said, grinning. He knew perfectly well that they wouldn’t be having sex (they were still fifteen, after all), but it was fun to tease Alfred with all sorts of lewd comments. Alfred rolled his eyes, although his grin mirrored Arthur’s.

“Are you always this perverted whilst revising?”

“You’re the one who devised the ‘Make Arthur all hot and bothered if he gets a question right’ game,” Arthur countered. Alfred put his hands up in defeat.

“Fair point. But it made you want to revise, didn’t it?” Alfred said, smirking coquettishly.

“Oh, it made me want to revise all day and night,” Arthur replied, sending Alfred his own seductive smirk.

They suddenly dissolved into laughter, like sodium dissolves into chlorine to form the ionic compound of sodium chloride. These filthy phrases and sexy smirks were very out of place amidst the open textbooks and discarded chocolate wrappers, but Arthur and Alfred knew that there was no better place to use them.

Who knew revision could be so entertaining?

#aph usuk #usuk #crack #Aph America #Aph England #gakuen hetalia #oneshot #Fanfic #my fanfiction #Chemistry? Kinda?#aph ukus #ukus #student au #Pfft I hope I get as good grades as these guys do #Because they got hella good grades after all this I decided #Arthur Kirkland #Alfred F. Jones

105 notes · View notes

anaxarmass · 3 years ago

Text

Los Angeles

Who: Harry @h-stylezz and Ana

Where: Her LA home.

Harry: the boy was used to the amount of flights he was having back and forth from the uk. At this point, the jet lag didn’t even phase him. he had carried out his usual routine of a little skin care and work on his laptop, and soon enough he was back at his home in the better weathered area of the globe. after a shower and pack of a bag, he was back out of the door again. the LA traffic had even added to the carefree journeys the male was taking today and aided him in arriving at the acquaintances within the hour. upon arrival, he slid his sunglasses to the top of his head and announced his presence with a knock at the females door.

Ana: Ana had no idea that she would end up talking to one of her favorite singers and let alone end up flirting with him? It was all out of body feeling for her. The pair flirted like a ball in a tennis match at Wimbledon, each throwing a compliment and the other serving a blushing one back. She was living for it, hearing that he wanted to come over and hang out made her slightly giddy with excitement. Hours later when he arrived she opened the door and smiled a dazzling smile at him as she opened the door. “hola, papi”

Harry: Ana was absolutely stunning but could never have been prepared for it in person. “Sounds even better when I’m stood in front of you” he smirked, his tongue gliding across his bottom lip, a glistening look to his feature now. “You weren’t lying about being a small bean” as the words left his mouth, he gave her height a once over before opening his arms to invite her for a hug. He didn't want to assume that she would hug him, he’d basically only just met her so he was treading carefully not to cross any lines with her.

Ana: "You're too kind" she said softly looking at his now glistening bottom lip, it looked so inviting, 'Ana behave' she thought before seeing him opening up his arms for a hug. One of which she wouldn't turn down "Thank God you are a hugger!" She giggled before her smaller frame melted into his embrace.

Harry: "Of course I'm a hugger, I think I would be mad not to be" the male chuckled, wrapping his arms around the females body, pulling her into his warmth. She smelt incredible too. A pure weakness for the brunette. He kept the embrace for a few seconds before stepping back but leaving his hand on her back. "So is this the beginning of your MTV cribs tour because it sure feels like it. Or have i just come all this way for a hug?"

Ana: "Well I'm very grateful that you like hugs" she said smiling before pulling away from him as well, she usually waited until the other would pull away. "yes it is, I have the best crib, and I mean more than a hug of you're lucky"

Harry: "I need you to show me with your best Snoop Dog impersonation please" the male challenged, cocking an eyebrow at the girl. This only stayed arched with her comment finally being processed. "Hold on, more? Please elaborate"

Ana: "I'm not high so that wouldn't sound accurate" she said laughing before she looked up at him again "Just saying that if the tension is too much we might need to remedy it"

Harry: "I think it would be a funny attempt though" harry laughed, even the thought sounded hilarious to him. "Noted" the brunette responded. His eyes then scanned the room from the place he was stood and attempted to search the area for the dogs. "So where are the two dogs? I mean thats the reason I'm here right? And what's the story there?"

Ana: She thought about it for a moment and did her best "yo, yo, my hizzle welcome to my cribbzle" and said before snorting once and saying "never make me do that again. And for the dogs they are in the backyard." She said taking his hand and pulling him through the massive kitchen.

Harry: harry couldnt help but laugh at the attempt, it was great and he appreciated the attempt. "that was amazing, ill just wait until youre drunk and request it again" the male winked. as she led him through, the kitchen he looked down at his feet to make sure he wouldnt trip and on the way back up a glance was paid to her ass. fuck, she was hot. "so are they named after elvis and the dance?"

Ana: Ana couldn't stop the blush from embarrassment that washed over her features "As long as you do an impression for me." She said glancing back up at him again, she shook her head "well Elvis has always been a fave of mine, so yes and no about the name of Salsa, I got the sweet puppy home, my ex Ben, he was eating salsa and each time he said it the sweet puppy would she would perk her ears up and bark the cutest little bark ever and that just happened to be the only name that she responded to. " She said shrugging " Also I would Salsa with her and she would calm down in thunderstorms"

Harry: “Snoop Dog impression? You ever heard the just eat advert? If not the impression will be a waste” he quizzed, narrowing his eyes to read her expression and to whether she had heard of it. The boy listened to her speak and continued the walk to the backyard where he spotted the two dogs. And yes they were as adorable as expected. “Great names I must say” Harry nodded, crouching down so that he could stroke the first dog that came to him. “Hey little guy, aren’t you cute”

Ana: "No not Snoop when I already killed that one" she said nodding her head as they entered the backyard the pool water was sparkling against the sunshine and her dogs were barking for new attention "Elvis is an old man, and Salsa she's a baby" she said before laying on the grass and Salsa came bounding over to her she kissed her head and giggled at her barking "He's a friend relax baba"

Harry: “Then what impression are you wanting to hear from me?” The male began, “pick wisely because I will also murder whatever I attempt too”. Harry continued to stroke the dog and looked over at the girl as she laid on the grass and the other dog came over to her. “Ouch, friendzoned already and I haven’t even tried yet”

Ana: "I don't know something wild or random" she said shrugging "Are you hoping to be more than just a friend of mine?" She said winking at him.

Harry: The male thought, taking a seat on the grass but facing the relaxed Cuban, “I do a great Chandler bing if you’re a friends fan?.” Harry laughed and shook his head, unzipping his bag before looking back at the girl. “Well I mean it would suck to have a friend as sexy as you”

Ana: "I do love Friends" she said nodding her head her shoulder length bob bouncing. "Likewise"

Harry: “Could you BE anymore attractive?” He responded, putting on his best chandler impression before pulling his shirt up and off his body. He stuffed that into his bag and then rose to his feet. “You gonna join me for a swim then?”

Ana: She blushed and stared laughing "That was..." She said watching him taking off his shirt biting her lower lip at the way his tattoos were shining in the sunlight "um.. what were you saying again?"

Harry: “Do you want me to give you a minute?” He smirked, quoting her own statement from earlier when she’d left him speechless. Now the tables had turned and he was going to take the opportunity and run with it. Seeing that her eyes were on him still, he then proceeded with his joggers so he was just in some swimming trunks he had popped on under his joggers before he’d left his house for ease.

Ana: She bit her lip again her eyes wide and checking him out again "Just enjoying the view to be completely honest with you" she said before she stood up and took off her tee-shirt dress revealing a red and black bikini on her sunkissed skin.

Harry: It was now his turn to ‘enjoy the view’ and what a view it was. His eyes explored her body, taking in every curve that she possessed before moving his eyes back up to her eyes. In one swift movement, he scooped her up into his arms and jumped into the pool, the both of them submerged for a short while. When he returned to the surface, he shook his hair and then combed it back with his fingers.

Ana: She broke eye contact with him for a second until he wrapped his longer arms around her frame and jumped into the water with her, giggling wildly she popped her head above the water and she splashed more water at him.

Harry: Feeling the droplets of water hit him, he gasped and returned the favour. The male then moved closer, splashing her more the closer he got with a lot of laughter following each splash.

Ana: She hadn't felt this young or laughed this hard in a long while, he was playful, for having such a deep voice. Something she wasn't used to, "Okay, okay, my side hurts from laughing so much"

Harry: “Oh yeah? She’s giving up already. I think I won that” Harry smirked, bobbing up and down in the water. He used his fingers once again to comb his hair back as a few strands were dangling. “Just my ploy to get you in a bikini really wasn’t it”

Ana: She brushed some of his hair out of his eyes and she said "I didn't think it was a fair fight" she said raising one eyebrow "I'm always ready to be in a bikini"

Harry: As she brushed his hair away, he wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. “What was unfair about it?” He asked, a smirk toying at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll remember that”

Ana: She grinned and felt goosebumps along her skin as he wrapped his arms around her waist "I'm sure you will"

Harry: His eyes looked over her features from her eyes down to her lips and back to her eyes again. “I look pretty hot in a bikini too, I must admit” the male joked, lifting her body slightly.

Ana: "Oh I have no doubt about that" she said before saying "I'm glad I met you" she said as he lifted her body "how do you feel?"

Harry: “I’m glad I met you too, you’re way more fun than I imagined. I hope you don’t take that the wrong way” Harry chuckled, shaking his head at himself. “That wasn’t meant to be a back handed compliment”

Ana: "Did you think I'd be serious, because I dated Batman?" She said raising an eyebrow "I'm sure it wasn't"

Harry: “You seem like a very mature individual, so mature that things like this just aren’t your cup of tea” he explained, slowly making his way over to the pool edge with her still in his arms. Once he reached it, he let his arms move away from her waist and instead cross over on the poolside.

Ana: "I didn't know I gave off that impression" She said once her back was against the wall of the pool she got up and sat on the wall "having fun?"

Harry: “Yeah but I don’t know you that we’ll do I?” He admitted, now looking up at her. “Yeah, are you? Also for once how does it feel to be the tall one?”

Ana: "You don't, not yet anyway" she said brushing her hair out of her face and looking down at him "it's a delicious feeling yes"

Harry: “Delicious feeling?” He questioned, raising his eyebrows. “Why delicious?”

Ana: "I don't feel empowered in a way like this and it's a delicious and delightful feeling"

Harry: “You don’t feel empowered by being taller?” He queried, moving across to stand directly in front of her body but still shorter than her.

Ana: "No I meant that my height usually doesn't make me feel empowered, as I would feel say commanding a room with my voice or acting ability, sending an email that was causing me anxiety, standing up for someone or something, makes me feel empowered, but my height rarely does."

Harry: “You feeling empowered right now?” He asked. It made sense what she was saying. The deeper things would make you feel more empowered that a genetic you can’t change.

Ana: "Just a little bit yes" she said looking into his green eyes "what makes you feel empowered?"

Harry: “Being able to control the audience with my hand, mostly just being on stage” he smiled, resting his chin on her thigh. “Do you like power?”

Ana: She grinned at him "I really ought to see you perform. " She said playing with his shaggy hair "I don't like power, I've seen what the wrong sort of people can do with power. But I do like being empowered."

Harry: “Next time I’m playing, you should come along” he nodded, closing his eyes as she played with his hair. He loved the feeling of anyone playing with his air, it was so relaxing. “I can’t fault you for that. What’s the most empowering moment you’ve ever experienced?”

Ana: "Will you serenade me to Adore You?" She said looking at his face and how relaxed he was with her. "Getting my first film in America"

Harry: “That means you’ll have to wear something bright so I can spot you or even a sign will do” he smirked, opening his eyes to look back up at her again. The thought that ran through his head now was singing ‘I get so lost inside your eyes’ to her, which was so true. “What was your first film?” He asked, planting his arms on either side of her against the pool side.

Ana: "I was thinking you might have me on stage" she said pouting slightly as she drew lazy shapes along his shoulders as the water from the pool dripped there. "it was called Hand Of Stone, I play the wife of a famous boxer, the role needed a Spanish and English speaking woman and they wanted some unknown, since I mainly did films and tv in Cuba or Spain, getting an international job like that was a blessing, plus the clothes were phenomenal"

Harry: “You really are looking for death threats yeah?” He chuckled. It was true, there were pockets in his following full of very toxic and crazy individuals that he didn’t want to be accountable for. It had been seen in his previous relationships. “Oh really? That’s so good then. Did you enjoy filming it? You still got some of the clothes? I can’t say I’ve ever watched it, maybe we should have a movie night sometime for it”

Ana: "After all the shit I received being with a much older man, I'm used to it and the potential rumors of being close to Evans when we filmed Knives Out, I've received it all" she said shrugging like it was a normal thing, because it was to her. "I stole this beautiful pink bathing suit, and I think one of the medals off the wall, I'm hoping it was a fake. We can do that for sure. As for enjoying it? I was terrified they were going to be like " Get Selma or some other Spanish actress"

Harry: “Yeah? Then consider it done. You’re coming on for adore you” he nodded. The concern was there but if she was more than ready to experience it on stage with the backlash then he was going to continue being that people pleaser. “Yeah? I feel like you should reenact a scene with the bathing suit. Show me the scene first though so I can judge the performance. Selma is a goddess. But seems like you’ve done a good job of it because look at you now Miss Blade Runner.”

Ana: "Perfect!" She said laughing and clapping her hands "it's a sex scene, so..." She said blushing lightly looking down at him "I love Selma, Selena, all the amazing Hispanic or Latino actresses that paved the way for me to even have a voice,let alone a seat at the table. Miss Blade Runner" she said raising an eyebrow "oh,did you enjoy that film?"

Harry: “So... you need someone to play your costar?” He smirked, offering her a wink to add to his playfulness. Although he wouldn’t say no. “Oh yeah for sure. All very very talented women. Yeah Blade Runner is the film I first spotted you in and since then you’ve been in my top 10” Harry joked.

Ana: "I'd be honored to have you as a love interest in a film" she said smiling brightly. "yes I am not worthy of being in their shadow. Which look in Blade Runner of mine was your favorite? Top ten? Where do I rank now that you have met me?"

Harry: “Wouldn’t shy that far from the truth in real life would it?” The brunette toyed with her, poking her waist as he spoke. “It’s not necessarily the outfit but the hair when you have the all black outfit on that’s cut at the shoulders. You’re still under megan fox I’m afraid”

Ana: "Not yet anyway" she said coyly "Oh my hair is what drew you to me? Makes sense. Still? damnit how can I get on top?" She said pretending to think of ways.

Harry: With a quick gasp of breath, he placed his palm on his chest and mimicked the best painful expression he could followed by the words “You don’t fancy me?.” The male then moved beside her to drag himself out of the pool and sit beside her with his legs dangling in the water. “In that scene yeah, stunning. Girls with their hair up is a big weakness of mine. As much of a weakness as the word papi. I can’t give you all the answers, you’ll have to try”

Ana: She laughed at his fake pain before she brushed a wet strand out of her face and then cupping his jaw leaning in slightly "Am I the first to call you papi?"

Harry: “You are indeed” he nodded, letting his teeth pull in his bottom lip as she cupped his jaw. “Well at least the only girl it’s sounded good on”

Ana: She glanced at his lips and then his eyes again and decided to go for it, she leaning further tilting her head up she caught his lips in hers and she ran her hand throughout his hair.

Harry: As she moved in, he let his hand move to her waist and let himself reciprocate the kiss. He parted his lips ever so slightly but pulled at her body as to showcase his desire for more.

Ana: She let a light moan escape her slightly parted lips as he pulled her closer, the younger male knew what he was doing and it made Ana's heart race slightly faster.

Harry: All the encouragement he needed right now was in that very moan that left her mouth. His hands grazed her body as if they possessed a mind of their own, now urgently seeking an intense moment with the brunette. Her lips were like heroin and he was craving.

Ana: She felt his hands roaming her body, causing new goosebumps to raise along her skin both exposed and not. She slid her tongue along his and tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. She could feel time standing still and she pulled away for a moment to catch her breath.

Harry: As she pulled back, he slowly let his eyes open and as they did, lock on her lips for a split second before meeting her eyes. “You’re so fucking hot”

Ana: She chuckled before she said "So are you, papi"

Harry: “You need to stop with that because you’re gonna start something you can’t finish” he warned, licking his bottom lip as he looked over her features, palm sliding down her thigh.

Ana: "How long are you in town?" She said taking his other hand in hers and kissing his knuckles

Harry: “I’m here for a couple weeks now, sorry” the Brit apologised, acting as though he was making her life difficult with being around and available. He then span so that his legs outstretched behind the girl and he was now fully facing her without having to turn his head to the side. “Why do you ask?”

Ana: "Why are you saying sorry?" She said looking in his eyes, her brows furrowed in confusion. "I just didn't want to be taking all your time if you had other plans while you're here. "

Harry: “I was joking” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I do have plans tomorrow but I’m free for today” he nodded, a smile forming after his comment. Her voice, her eyes, her wet hair, she was just unreal.

Ana: "Did you want to stay the night?" She said glancing into his emerald eyes, the way his curls framed his face she couldn't believe his jawline was that chiseled in person.

Harry: “It’s up to you, will you have clothes I can borrow tomorrow?” He smirked, “possibly that pink bodysuit?.” He then leant back so he was almost laying and propped himself up on his elbows.

Ana: "I thought you had some in your backpack?" She said tracing his abs

Harry: “I do don’t worry, I won’t stretch out your outfits” Harry chuckled, pulling out the towel from his bag to ruffle his hair with a dry it a little before dabbing himself down. “If you want me to stay then I will”

Ana: "Yeah that suit is like a extra, extra small" she said thinking of how tall he was compared to her "I hope I don't sound like I'm being too forward"

Harry: The male shrugged and tried to hide the playful smirk on his lips, “Yeah a size too small for me.” Once he was done, he folded the towel and laid it beside the bag to avoid the damp towel wetting his clothes. “Who said that’s a bad thing?”

Ana: "Just a touch you small" she said shaking her head "I have a laundry room, don't worry about that" she said pointing to his backpack and his wet towel "So is this how you expected it to be?"

Harry: “Don’t expect you to do my washing” he chuckled. “It really is not at all. Did you expect this?”

Ana: "Yeah? I didn't expect I'd" she said before switching to a British accent "snog you"

Harry: “Yeah I didn’t expect you to lay it on me first either” he laughed. His phone then started vibrating causing Harry to look through his bag for it to spot the cockblock of a text. “You’re joking. I forgot I had a meal with my friend tonight, he’s waiting for me right now” Harry announced, taking out his clothes that he had packed to change into and looked at Ana. “We’re gonna have to raincheck this sleepover... mind closing your eyes?” He laughed as he was now stood and ready to take off his swim shorts.

Ana: "I thought you would to be honest" she said upon hearing his phone vibrate. "I plan on it being spectacular, I have a bathroom you can change in, so you aren't changing in broad daylight"

Harry: “I was planning on it but you beat me to it” he admitted. The boy nodded, slinging the bag over his shoulder and holding his hand out for the girl. “Do you mind doing the honours and showing me it?”

Ana: "Of course mi casa es su casa" she said taking his hand and squeezing it heading to her bathroom "Here you go" she said opening the door.

Harry: The male followed after the petite female. “Thank you” he smiled, tugging her body back against his so he could lean down and capture her lips with his.

Ana: She stood on her tiptoes and felt his arm around her again . She protested as he pulled away "How much do you care about this friend you have dinner with?" She said hoping he'd stay.

Harry: “I can’t stand him up” he stated, although his words didn’t seem too convincing in all honesty. He narrowed his eyes at her and smirked. “You’re trouble”

Ana: "Worth a shot" she said popping the t at the end of the word. "the best kind"

Harry: “Jeff with dislike you before he even meets you” he laughed, embracing her into a hug. “Then he’ll meet you and understand exactly why” the male chuckled.

Ana: "I mean most people are intimidated by me before they know me" she said shrugging "okay get changed, you don't want your friend to hate me before he knows me"

Harry: And with that, he drew himself away and shut the door behind him. It didn’t take him long to get changed so before he knew it, he was back out of the bathroom again. “Right so when am I seeing you next?”

Ana: "Depends when do you have time free, papi?" She said sitting on the bar stool.

Harry: “Keep saying that and I’ll cancel plans and be free tonight” he smirked, adjusting his jumper slightly. “Tomorrow?”

Ana: "Hm well I don't wanna keep you away from your friend. I'm not a monster. " She said before fixing his collar "Perfect"

Harry: “Okay okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then” he smiled, leaning in to give her one last kiss before heading towards the door.

Ana: She grinned into the kiss "adios, Harry" she said softly as he left to go to the door.

#para 1 #LA #with: Harry

0 notes