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befuddled-calico-whump · 6 months

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Total $hit$how: Punching Bags

in which Benji realizes he's in over his head.

cw: violence, abusive training methods, threats, adult/crude language

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Wandering the base hadn't been nearly as fun as Benji had hoped.

It was mostly just empty government-style hallways and locked doors. So many locked doors. Made even more frustrating by the fact that the locks all looked easy as shit, and if he tried, Benji could have any of them open in a matter of seconds. Maybe all of them. He wondered how long it would take him to open every door in the facility if he was really trying. Ten minutes? Fifteen? There was always the chance that a locked door would just lead to more locked doors, but that wasn't really fair to count against him.

But… he wasn't going to do that. No matter how bored he got here. Normally he didn't care too much for following rules, you couldn't make a living as a thief if you did, but Sahota's all-but-outright-stated threat made him think better of it.

If he messed up here, he would go to jail.

He'd already been there briefly, while waiting on a trial, and that had been… significantly less than fun. Benji imagined a state prison would be worse, especially if he was in for literal decades. So, fine. He'd be a good boy and do what he was told, even if their mission sounded made up.

There were a few doors that weren't locked. A decent-sized kitchen and adjacent dining hall. A computer lab that doubled as a small library. A huge, open room with cushioned floors that Benji assumed was the training area.

Eventually, Vic found them and showed them to their rooms. They were down a hall, behind yet another locked door, but Vic gave them keys for this one.

There was a room for each of them, thank God. Benji would lose his mind if he had to room with one of these doofuses. Joy and Jericho seemed alright, but he never trusted a first impression. Kaius was a classic arrogant rich boy, probably turned into an asshole by parents and teachers who constantly praised his intellect. And Harbor seemed more than a little unstable. The kind of guy who'd snap and stab you in your sleep if you looked at him wrong.

Sure, he'd learn to get along with them; he got along with everyone given enough time, but sharing a living space was a different story.

The rooms were small and impersonal. A little bland for Benji’s tastes, and if he weren't fresh out of a jail cell he might've complained more. It was late, and he was tired from all the new information that had been chucked at him throughout the day, so he fell onto the bed before doing too much poking around.

The next morning, at seven sharp, they all filed into the training bay as instructed. Everyone else was wearing a set of dark gray workout attire.

Shit, did he not get the memo? He hadn't bothered to dig through the drawers the night before, and had just changed into the same clothes he'd worn yesterday, minus the fishnet undershirt. Now he was standing there in a crop top, looking ridiculous.

When Harbor stumbled in, ten minutes late and wearing the same rumpled shirt and oversized jacket he'd had on at the briefing, Benji didn't know if he felt better or worse.

On the one hand, at least he wasn't the only one who'd goofed. On the other, he didn't want everyone else to start grouping him with Harbor.

“I see most of you found the training uniforms.”

Benji turned around. Sahota was walking into the room, his face impassive as ever though his tone was full of irritation.

“Right, sorry,” Benji said. “Maybe give us better instruction next time instead of running off? Even just a note could work. Oh, or those little instruction pamphlets that come inside board games, that would've been a huge help—”

“Is this just a game to you, Ruebin?”

Benji gave him an exaggerated wince. “No," he said "I can honestly say that me staying out of prison is a very serious matter. I'm just saying—”

“Then shut up and pay attention.” He sauntered to the center of the group, leaving Benji to throw an exasperated look in Joy’s direction, which she answered with a small grin.

In his experience, the quickest way to bond with someone was by complaining about someone else.

Sahota unzipped his jacket and cast it aside, then turned to face them. He was… actually kind of hot, even if Benji was reluctant to admit it. Warm brown skin and lean muscle. Scars running up and down his arms that served to add an edge to his look, and a tattoo of something—a hawk? Some kind of bird—curling along the side of his neck. His dark hair was cut short at the sides and allowed just enough length to curl at the top, and his eyes were framed by thick lashes. If the guy wasn't such a prick, he might’ve tried to chat him up.

“Today we'll be doing some sparring," Sahota said. "I assume most of you already have some combatives experience, but I'll need a firsthand look to see if your skills are adequate.”

Joy raised her hand. Benji found it adorable how she kept doing that, like a kindergartner excited to learn.

“So you're going to watch us fight each other?”

“No,” Sahota said. “You're going to fight me.”

Shit. Benji raised his hand. “Ah… exactly how important are these combatives?”

He was more flight than fight. Hell, not even that. As long as his jaw was working, Benji was a talker. He'd avoided countless black eyes and broken bones through simple verbal de-escalation. The few times he had been dragged into a scuffle hadn't gone very well for him.

“It's a matter of life and death.” From anybody else, that would've sounded like a joke, but Sahota was dead serious. “Each potential target will be swarming with guards. If you end up cornered, really cornered, it'll be a fight to survive. Understood?”

Benji swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Shoes off. Vic doesn't like the mats getting scuffed.”

Benji crouched, unlacing his boots with a heavy sigh. This was gonna suck, wasn't it? Maybe he should just volunteer to go first and get this over with—

“I'll go first if that's okay,” Jericho piped up. “Might as well get it over with.”

Oh, son of a… well. Great minds think alike and all that. Benji scooted away from the mat, eyes on his brand new teammate as the man stepped up and came face-to-face with Sahota. Their handler smirked—if you could call it that. It was a half-smirk. Quarter smirk. Barely noticeable at all.

Jericho was nearly a head taller than him and twice as wide, all nervous smiles and beefy arms as Sahota sized him up.

“Alright Davis. Come at me.”

“What, right away?”

Sahota hit him.

Nothing devastating, just a little pop on the jaw, but Benji physically cringed at the blow, and Jericho staggered back in surprise.

“If you're caught in a fight, you can't hesitate,” Sahota said. Jericho gave a sharp nod and swung on him, but the smaller man dodged the blow effortlessly.

“If you don't have skill, you'll need to make up for it with speed. If you know you're cornered, be the first to strike.”

He sidestepped another blow from Jericho as he spoke, sending a sharp kick into his opponent’s ribs.

“You're strong, Davis, but too slow.”

Jericho lunged at Sahota, making to grab him, but their handler dodged that too.

“And you're holding back.”

“I… I don't want to hurt you,” Jericho said, sounding a little winded.

“Your enemy won't feel the same.”

Sahota dropped to the floor, moving quicker than Benji thought possible as he took Jericho’s legs out from under him with a sweeping kick, then pouncing on the bigger man when he hit the ground, wrestling him into a chokehold before he could react.

Jericho tapped out, and Sahota let him up. The whole thing was over in under two minutes, and their handler wasn't even breathing heavily.

Maybe it was a better strategy to go last, when Sahota was the slightest bit tired out. If he got tired at all. Even then, Benji really didn't like his odds.

“I'll go next,” Joy said, stepping up to the mat as Jericho trudged back to his spot on the floor, one hand on his ribs. Benji threw a sympathetic look his way, or rather, a can you believe this guy look.

“Begin.”

Having apparently learned from Jericho’s match, Joy lunged right away, dropping a knee between Sahota’s legs and thrusting her body forward, driving them both to the ground. The move seemed to have taken the man by surprise, but he didn't stay that way for long, engaging with Joy before she could throw an arm around his neck. The two grappled for a moment, but Sahota came out on top. Benji wasn't overly shocked as he released the defeated Joy.

“Not terrible,” he said. “But against a larger opponent you wouldn't stand a chance.”

“That's what guns are for,” Joy panted.

Kaius went next. Small as he was, he was surprisingly good at kicking, and actually almost landed a blow. Benji felt a little vindicated when he didn't, even more so when he was swiftly put into a chokehold. If Kaius was the first one to match Sahota, Benji had the feeling he'd only get smugger.

With Kaius beaten that marked three fights won, and Sahota didn't look the slightest bit tired.

“Are you ready, Harbor?”

“If it means I get to punch you.” Harbor shuffled over to the mat, hands stuffed into the pockets of his oversized jacket. His multicolored hair, buzzed on one side and long on the other, gave the appearance of a parrot sitting on his shoulder. A feral parrot. Who'd been caught in a particularly bad storm. His height matched Jericho's, but he was scrawny, with a build like the kid from the chocolate factory movie after he'd been stretched by the taffy puller.

“Begin.”

Harbor darted forward, closed fist shooting out and… and actually catching Sahota across the chin.

Their handler seemed just as surprised as Benji was. Of all the people to land a blow, Harbor had got it first?

Sahota recovered quickly, dancing around the next few jabs. Harbor moved like a drunk monkey, slouchy and swaying, but he was fast.

What had he said at the briefing? He had some kind of biotech implant that made him quicker? In that case, completely unfair. Benji hoped he wouldn't have to fight him.

On the other hand, having Harbor on his side in a fight would be a plus. Even after Sahota had landed a few hits of his own, the taller man hadn't slowed down, the half-crazed smile on his face spreading with every blow.

Which was more than a little bit unsettling. Benji once again found himself glad he didn't have to share a room with the guy.

After what seemed like forever, Sahota managed to get him on the ground, wrapping an arm around his throat and squeezing, the finishing move that had ended every other match.

Only Harbor didn't tap.

His face was contorted into a snarl, blood dribbling down his chin as his hands clawed at the arm around his neck. His upper lip was starting to go purple.

“Sahota…” Jericho said. “I think he's done.”

Their handler didn't move.

“Sahota.”

Harbor's jaw worked soundlessly, his feet scraping at the ground. A sick fear settled in Benji’s stomach. He wasn't… he wasn't about to watch this guy die, was he? Sahota wouldn't go that far, would he?

His mouth fell open, to reason with the other man, to shout for him to stop, but words didn't come. Beside him, Joy jumped to her feet, striding forward. Jericho was already standing, looking like he was about to charge in as well.

“Hey!”

Harbor's arms fell slack at his sides, and Sahota at last let go, letting the other man fall limp onto the mat as he stood.

Joy bent over Harbor's body. “What the fuck was that?”

“He'll be fine,” Sahota muttered. He was more winded than he'd been after his fight with Kaius, but his expression remained impassive. Not angry, or regretful, just… just a whole lot of nothingness. Like he didn't care at all. He was just doing his job, and he had no room for showing mercy at it.

And Benji was up next.

“Are you supposed to be training us or hurting us?” Benji said, finding words at last. “Is this really what Vic wants from you?”

“Who do you think I learned it from?”

Behind him, Harbor's eyes fluttered open with a groan. Joy offered him a hand, but he swatted it aside, staggering to his feet with difficulty. Sahota watched him limp away.

“You're quick, Harbor, but you're a sloppy fighter,” he said. “However, you're also the only one who didn't tap. Good work.”

“Good?” Joy scowled. “You're a shitty trainer if you think that's a good thing."

Sahota ignored her. “Get on the mat, Ruebin. You're up.”

Oh, fuck me.

Benji chewed the inside of his cheek as he pushed himself to his feet. Everyone here was a better brawler than him, and everyone here was already sporting bruises from their go with Sahota. No way would he escape unscathed.

“Go easy on me,” he said, trying to make it sound like a joke. “I don't even know how to throw a punch.”

“Begin.”

He knew he should follow the handler's suggestion and strike first, but Benji couldn't bring himself to move closer to his opponent. Sahota took a step forward, and he took a step back, hands half-up as if he'd actually be fast enough to protect his face.

“Maybe we should just—”

Sahota swung on him, and Benji jumped back with a yelp, barely evading the blow. Shit!

“Dodging won't always save you. What will you do when the door is barricaded? When you're trapped?”

That was where words came in. “Can't I just offer to go down on him?” he snipped.

Sahota answered with a jab to the jaw that sent Benji’s head snapping to the side, and he staggered backwards, losing his balance and landing hard on his ass. He scrambled to his feet as Sahota stalked towards him, holding his hands up in awkward fists, cheek throbbing.

His opponent spun on his heel, sending a kick directly into Benji’s side, which he accepted with a cry and a stumble, arms instinctively rising to protect his head, body panicking and not moving in the right direction quick enough.

“If all you're going to do is cower, you're never going to win.”

Benji grit his teeth, getting his hands back up. He flung a blind punch at Sahota, and was unsurprised when it didn't make contact. The other man took advantage of the opening, planting a heavy kick in Benji's stomach.

He crumpled, retching as the boot sent a spike of pain and nausea through his torso, up his spine. Sahota was towering over him, moving to pin him down—

“Wait!” Benji threw up a hand to shield himself. “Wait, wait, I surrender. Okay? You win.”

Sahota stopped. “You surrender?” he echoed, his voice low. An edge had entered his tone, and Benji didn't like it one bit.

“Your mission is to destroy top-secret equipment owned by a company with enough money to own you a thousand times over. Do you know what happens if you surrender?”

Benji searched for something witty, something he could throw out to defuse the situation, and came up empty handed. “N-no, I—”

He cried out as Sahota seized a fistful of his hair and hauled him to his feet, scalp set on fire by the sudden force, only half-aware of the shouts of alarm from the others.

“If you surrender, they'll want information. Who sent you. Why. They'll do anything to get it. And when you give it up, when you sell us out, Vic and I will do worse. Understood?”

Benji squeezed his eyes shut, nodding as much as the hand in his hair would allow.

“Good. Now stand up and fight—”

“I think that's enough.” Jericho was behind Benji. He hadn't heard him walking up. “Sahota, let him go.”

When he dared to open his eyes, their handler was glaring up at Jericho. But the grip in his hair loosened, and the big guy caught Benji as he fell backwards.

Sahota turned his back on them, silent for a moment. Benji imagined he was contemplating lunging for Jericho, then coming back to beat him up when the bigger man was unconscious.

“That's enough sparring for one day,” Sahota said at last. “Take the next few hours to train as you see fit. Vic will be around to brief you on individual skill use later.”

Benji clung to Jericho as they left the mat behind. His ribs and stomach felt bruised, and his hands were trembling. Fuck, Sahota was good at making threats that shook him to his core.

“You okay?” Jericho asked, and Benji could only nod. Had anyone else caught what Sahota had growled at him? Did they know how fucked they were if they failed? It was probably better for the overall mood if he didn't tell them. Sure would do wonders for his if he could unhear it.

Sahota started to leave the room, but stopped just short of the door.

“I'm sure you all think I'm a monster,” he said, not turning around. “But when all this is over, when you survive it, you'll thank me.”

Benji watched him go with a barely-suppressed shudder. After today, prison wasn't sounding too bad after all.

#man these are long #this one was really fun to write though!#i love benji's pov lol #violence #beaten up #choking #total$hit$how #team whump

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settphel-enthusiast · 7 months

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Goodnight, mooncake. ―

Sett & Aphelios one shot, fluff!

― Cursing cw

― 2,081 Words

― Overstimulation / Meltdown cw

― Mentions of; top surgery scars(Aphelios), Stretch Marks(Sett's Mom) and caring for them

― Uhh.. Not sure what other tags!

― Excuse me while my brain is rotting over Heartsteel, I'm sorry if something doesn't make sense ; -; aowidhaowhd I didn't sleep much

5:49pm,

It always became so dark around this time, even thought there was enough light that the street lights didn't turn on. It was cold enough for a sweater, but it was the type of cold where you'd get hot easily and sweat. There was the sound of echoed laughter from a once busy street, now empty, and the sound of store-keepers shutting their shops, with just fast-food chain restaurants' neon lights in the distance on a main-street.

"Stop eating my fuckin' food!" Shouted Kayn, with a hint of Rhaast in his voice, "Or what?" Ezreal was really playing with fire tonight, he'd spin on his heels and turn to face Kayn, sticking out his tongue with the most shit-eating grin plastered on his face, a laugh came from Ezreal's lips, it made the rest of the boys smile as well. Watching as Kayn started to chase Ezreal down the street.

They all just started walking home from a little festival in-town; with Ezreal and Kayn running around in front, K'sante and Yone holding most of the gifts they've bought, including drinks and food and Sett and Aphelios walking in the back, each of them sharing an earphone for music.

What would they be listening to? Everything Goes On by Porter Robinson.

Porter Robinson was probably one of Aphelios' favorite artists, next to River Tiber.

Sett's much larger, bandage-covered hand came down to brush against Aphelios' arm, making sure he knew what he wanted, "Can I?" Sett's rugged voice was barely above a whisper, and without even responding; but their eyes met, and Aphelios laced their fingers together, his eyes lighting up with a smile; his lips being hidden with his mask.

"Thank you," Sett signed.

Be still, his poor heart. Thank God for the mask, otherwise that flush across his cheeks would've been obvious.

Aphelios' eyes fixated on the others in front of them as they'd continue their journey back to the apartment.

"You two, take a left in the next street!" K'sante yelled out,

"Shut up!" Rhaast was clearly becoming antsy, and Ezreal ran around Yone and K'sante, using them as a shield, but also to protect the takoyaki that Ezreal and Kayn were supposed to share, putting it in the bag Yone was carrying before they ran off again; heading down that street that K'sante pointed out to.

Sett let out a chesty, heartfelt laugh, "God, it's never boring with those two around, hey, Phel?" His smile softened as his rich ceruleans found Aphelios' rather bland face, "Phel?" He lowered his head down.

Now, Sett was rather tall, much taller than Aphelios, just an inch taller than K'sante, Phel's head practically reached his shoulders, if we're being generous here.

Aphelios; completely lost in thought, Sett stopped them both, to grab his attention, and quickly, his vermillions fixated on Sett with confusion, "What's up?" He signed slowly,

"I'm worried, are you okay? Tired?" Sett signed back while he spoke; trying to get into the habit of doing so,

"Very tired," Phel's eyes closed, "I'll be okay," Aphelios added before pulling down his mask, "I don't want you to worry," he mouthed while signing,

"I will worry, you know this," Sett's ears flopped down with a knit in his brow, his heart ached.

And as they were conversing in the middle of an empty street, the four ahead were almost out of sight,

"Anything I can do?" Sett added, and Phel reached down to grab back onto Sett's hand, bringing up to rub his cheek against it, shaking his head,

"This is all I need," Phel mouthed, and they continued walking.

Deep down, Aphelios knew full well that he was completely drained, being out in public, conversing with strangers, having loud music blaring in his ears and the constant walking; it was fun, but it was getting too much.

The darkness of this barely lit street, the lack of obnoxious music, and Sett being in his hand was slowly bringing him back to reality.

Their hands laced together once again, and they even did a little jog to catch up with the others.

Despite Sett's stronger form, Aphelios was pretty good stamina-wise, and could keep up with Sett when it came to running, and they both did cardio together from time to time, it was a good way to spend time together without making it so obvious.

Turning that corner now, K'sante pulled out the keys to their apartment and Ezreal and Kayn were out of breath from chasing one another, standing at the entrance to the apartment building, leaning against each other, arms around eachother's necks, completely tuckered out.

K'sante laughed aloud, "Good, looks like you both will be sleeping good tonight then!"

"Don't stay up late, the both of you, we have rehearsals tomorrow morning, early." Yone spoke in a stern tone before heading up to their room.

K'sante, Yone, Ezreal and Kayn went straight inside to unpack and eat.

But Aphelios stopped by the elevator and held tightly onto Sett's hand behind his back, "You don't want to go inside?" A curious head-tilt with one of Sett's ears flopping,

"Can we hang out on the roof for a while?" Aphelios signed with just a subtle knit in his brow,

"Anything you need, mooncake," And as Sett turned around, he'd just gently push Aphelios back into the elevator with the presence of his towering form, with just a subtle chuckle erupting from his lips, his smile exposing his pearly white fangs and single golden tooth.

Aphelios' free hand came up to Sett's jawline, rubbing that stubble, and as the elevator doors closed, their lips met for the entirety of the elevator ride; Sett's lips all over Aphelios' face, not one bit left un-smooched.

Aphelios begun tapping onto Sett's arm, attempting to get him to pull back, but oh no! He didn't, he kept attacking Aphelios' face with kisses and face-rubs, his stubble grazing over Aphelios' cheek -- and that was the final straw. Phel's hands came up to Sett's face, pushing it away with a shake of his head, "Too much?" Sett spoke with a laugh, and Aphelios nodded, hinting towards the stubble,

"Oh yeah.. Sorry, I forgot this mornin'," Sett pulled back and rubbed his stubble, averting his gaze with a huff, "No more, pinkie swear," Sett raised his pinkie.

Aphelios took it, giving Sett a stern look before leaning up and kissing his cheek -- taking his bandaged hand to walk out on the roof-top, it was tidy; with plants surrounding the edge of the building, an outdoor canopy with an L-shaped couch, a few chairs and a coffee table in the middle; all under the canopy, while the rest had just a pool that was fenced off.

Aphelios huffed a sigh and found the couch, flopping down and laying on his side, and Sett sat down next to Aphelios' head carefully, shifting just enough so Phel's head could rest on one of his thighs.

The sound of crickets in the garden, a subtle, cold breeze, and the warmth of Sett's leg under his head, Aphelios' eyes lulled close, and Sett leaned back, closing his eyes as well; with one hand on Phel's head.

Aphelios put on some different music for the both of them to listen to -- Running out of Time by No Spirit and Tonion, among other songs

It was like this for.. What? An hour? Maybe more.

Come around 7pm and Sett's phone started to ring; it was Yone.

He answered, "Where are you guys?" Yone's tone sounded concerned more than anything,

"Just on the roof, Phel's napping, I think.." Sett's voice barely a whisper, not sure if Aphelios was actually asleep or not, and.. To be truthful, he really wasn't; his eyes were closed, and he was so focused on his breathing and Sett's.

"Dinner's ready, we'll put it in the fridge then, come down when you're ready," Yone spoke, happy to know where they were.

"Thank you, will do," Sett whispered and Phel sat up, stretching his shoulders.

"We should head down," Aphelios signed, his eyes were heavy, like he genuinely was ready to sleep.

"We don't have to, Yone said he'll put it in the fridge for when we're ready,"

"It's getting cold," No, Aphelios was getting cold; Sett was perfectly warm, he was like a radiator of heat and sunshine, where ever he went, the room lit up.

Aphelios was.. Very jealous of that fact; his beaming smile, his hearty laugh and that stupid.. Toothy grin of his, he couldn't get enough of it. While Phel rarely smiled, but when he did, it would warm the hearts of others and the people around him, expressiveness wasn't his strong suit.

"Alright, mooncake, let's go," Sett stood up first, offering both his hands to Aphelios, and he'd use them to pull himself to his feet; chest to chest, and suddenly.. The warmth, strong embrace of Sett's arms came around Aphelios' shoulders, with the Vastayan's head on top of his.

Leaning into his touch, Aphelios took a deep breath in and sighed it out, oh how he smelt so comforting.. Like a subtly sweet cologne and sandalwood, a little sniffle with the redenning of his nose? Tears welling in his eyes.

"Phel?" Sett suddenly leaned down and Aphelios wiped his tears, shaking his head -- he was just overwhelmed from the day, very tired and completely drained of energy.

Sett's hands cupped Aphelios' red cheeks, "Let's get to bed, it's been a long day," unlike Aphelios, Sett can just keep going and going throughout the day, there was no energy limit.

He'd pick up Aphelios, hugging him nice and close, tightly; even zipping his jacket around Aphelios' form for that added pressure and comfort.

He snuck his way into their apartment, most of the lights were dimmed down already, Ezreal and Kayn passed out on one another on the couch in the living room, Yone quietly worked in the kitchen with a coffee next to his laptop and K'sante helping where he could with paperwork.

It was dead-quiet, and Sett waved, the other two waved back, there was the quiet sniffling coming from within his jacket, Yone tilted his head after lifting it up from his work,

"Everything okay?" He signed pretty quick,

"Tired," Sett signed back before taking Aphelios to his room; it was dark, with only a few lava-lamps to light up his room, the curtains always closed and of course, there was the pile of plushies in the corner, three different blankets; weighted, faux-mink and a light-weighted duvet.

Sitting down onto his bed, he'd unzip his jacket, letting Aphelios go free.

And as he did, the mute stood up to begin changing into a set of pajamas; while Sett looked away, doing everything in his power not to pay attention.

Phel returned to bed in just a pair of boxers, flopping onto his back onto the bed.

Sett huffed, "You know better," he muttered out, reaching into Phel's night-stand, grabbing some moisturizer that Sett's mom gifted to Aphelios for his surgery scars; Sett's Mom used it for her stretch marks, and it worked wonders!

Sett sat on Aphelios' waist, rubbing the cream into his chest, while Aphelios covered his face, trying his best not to burst out into breathless laughter; going as far as holding his breath.

Sett knew full well how ticklish it was for Aphelios; between his sensitive ribs and the numbed area that was the scars.

"Sit still!" Sett started to laugh while Phel wiggled,

"I'm trying," he signed, holding his laughs.

"Alright, there," his rugged voice chimed, closing the cream's container and he'd slide off Aphelios, laying on his side, "Feel better?" The Vastayan rubbed Phel's cheek with his knuckles,

"Thank you, I do," Phel signed and he'd shuffle closer; so their skin was touching. Of course, Sett had no intention of sleeping just yet, he'd often wait for Aphelios to fall asleep first before he did.

"Rest well, mooncake, see you in the mornin'," Sett leaned down and kissed Aphelios' face, making sure his stubble didn't touch Phel's face.

Of course, once Aphelios was asleep; he could change out of his clothes, into his underwear and a loose tanktop that left little to nothing to the imagination for his clean-cut form.

And his arms wrapped around Aphelios' waist, just to bring his back against Sett's chest, spooning his entire form with Sett's knees tucked under Phel's comfortably, pulling the blankets over their shoulders with his free hand.

#league of legends #heartsteel #sett #aphelios #ezreal #kayn #settphel #yone #k'sante #moomiwrites

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prodigal-explorer · 4 months

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a snippet from the first chapter of my loyal au fic

(if you don't know the background of this au, here's the post detailing it: loyal au)

Splayed out on his bed, Kel looked up at the ceiling, smiling and laughing breathlessly. When it came to pillow fights, Basil was much more feisty than he seemed. There was something about flying feathers and soft surfaces that seemed to entice Basil's competitive side. And honestly, Kel enjoyed it. It was nice to see the real Basil, and not the shy, bland persona that he often wore in front of people who he didn't trust to see his true self. Kel almost felt honored that he was part of the "secret club" that had access to this Basil. The Basil who wasn't the most perfect, morally-aligned human of all time.

Well, maybe that title should go to Mari. After all, Kel thought, nobody could top her when it came to goodness.

The silence that hung in the air was comfortable. There was no sound except for the odd sigh as Kel and Basil caught their breaths, recovering from their battle.

But out of the blue, Basil broke the silence in a way that crushed the comfort in such a way that Kel's heart seized.

"I wish Sunny was here."

Though his words were quiet, his sentiment was not. Kel was shocked, laughing softly to hide how he flinched as Basil spoke in his typical soft, kind tone.

"It feels so empty when he's not around during these things."

What, so me being here doesn't matter?

Kel shook his head, biting his lip harshly so he wouldn't say what he had been thinking so loudly. Though he had a tendency to speak without thinking, something about Basil's presence placated him in a way that didn't really feel natural. Maybe since Basil was so good, Kel felt pressured to be good as well. It was a good thing, Kel thought. Even if his true thoughts sometimes had to go unsaid.

After all, Basil hadn't meant anything bad by it. Basil was a good friend.

"If you're bored, we could play a game or something," Kel suggested, staring at the medals and awards that gleamed on the other side of the bedroom wall. Hero's side.

What would Hero do in this type of situation? What would he say?

"Maybe we could even play basketball outside! It stopped raining while we were pillow fighting!"

Basil winced, chuckling awkwardly, and Kel wanted to groan. That was probably the most un-Hero-like thing Kel could have possibly said. Why was he so bad at emulating the person he shared the world with since birth? Why couldn't he be as good at this as Hero? Did Hero have to be better than him at everything?

"Sorry, I'm a bit tired," Basil said, "How do you...always have so much energy, Kel? I'm surprised you aren't exhausted by now."

Exhausted? Kel couldn't help but ask himself, or exhausting?

Did Basil really want to be here? Kel could see Basil shifting slightly in the bed, looking around the room with a resigned dullness behind his eyes that almost reminded Kel of Sunny. This never happened when Sunny was around.

"I'm tired too," Kel decided to say.

No he wasn't. But the way Basil smiled, as if maybe, for once, Kel had said the right thing, made Kel have trouble regretting his lie. If it was for the greater good, how bad could a lie possibly be?

#loyal au #prodigal omori #omori #omori game #omori fandom #omori au #omori kel #kel omori #omori basil #basil omori #omori fic #omori fanfiction #omori fanfic #omori loyal au #omocat

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y4fqzr · 1 year

Text

my apology

characters : kaveh, nilou, tighnari, cyno

pairings : kaveh x reader

slight angst/little to no comfort

a/n: bro what rhe hell this is probably the corniest thing i EVER WROTE but i'll js post it for funsies..,,

+ i use colors to indicate who's talking

(reader is both white and blue)

do tell me if i made any mistakes !

reblogs are appreciated !

---------------------------------------------------

8th july, 20xx

i write at the corner of the page.

...

what was i supposed to write again...

it feels as if the world just stopped, has it really been this silent before? its just the sound of birds chirping, the clicking of my pen, and the tapping of my feet.

...

ah, its probably those times again.

2 months since we last talked, 2 months since we broke it off, 2 months since we last saw eachother, 2 months since everything felt bland.

i thought i could live at peace now that he's gone, maybe i just got too used to his presence. maybe i just got too used to him running up to me and telling me all about his day. maybe i just got too used with everything he does that's just so predictable.

..or im just the problem

seems like i cant face it. obviously he's moved on by now. he seems happier, more stable and less tired now that i'm out of his life.

...

...?

i don't think we're a good pair for eachother.

we should end this.

i know you're tired of our arguments, and it's a lie to say i dont feel the same.

oh.

those words will never leave my head, the guilt i feel for always letting my emotions control me, i could've done better, really, i could..

[name]?

..i could do better.. i didn't mean to hurt him like that.. the way he stormed out of the house, with his bags packed, not sparing a single look anym--

[name]!

..what?

are you okay? we came by to visit, nilous idea. you don't seem to be in a good state, mind if we stay for the night? we're worried. plus it's been a while since we last saw you.

oh, of course.

come now, the sun is setting. i'll figure out some stuff to do to keep you distracted from thoughts that aren't needed.

nilou's right. we know you're stressed with stuff occupying your mind. let go of everything, and only focus on you, alright?

alright.

...

im sorry for not being the ideal person you wanted.

---------------------------------------------------

- end || made by mybvyvy , hope you enjoyed !

---------------------------------------------------

tags :

#kaveh imagines #kaveh x reader #genshin shenanigans #genshin #genshin impact #gi nilou #tighnari #cyno #fanfics #author is sleep deprived #i love kaveh #kaveh brainrot #light angst #slight angst

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blackjackkent · 6 months

Text

Amusingly, I just stopped at the trader, so I have almost no useful equipment to pass to Wulbren; however, what I do have is Hector's quarterstaff that I unequipped because I'm trying out @zenjestrr's suggestion of running Hector as an Open Hand monk instead. And apparently a quarterstaff is a decent enough rock-breaking tool for him.

"Good work. We're gonna wait until it's quiet, then bust out the back wall. We'll grab the tieflings along the way - we'll need 'em if it comes to a fight. You, however, are the clincher. Once we move, keep the patrols busy. If the bastards spot us, all of bloody Moonrise will come down on us."

Don't worry, Wulbren. Hector is extremely good at both dialogue checks and stealth, so he is absolutely the right person to have in your corner for this.

I caved and did a little research on this - not so much for an ideal outcome as just to be sure that we're not triggering some point-of-no-return here, which it looks like we aren't. Since Hector, despite my sarcasm, is not really particularly good at anything sneaky, I'm thinking our best bet here might be to just clear out all of the prison guards before giving Wulbren the go-ahead, since apparently doing so doesn't turn the rest of the tower hostile. (It does also appear that we can't go to long rest before doing this, or the prisoners will simply make a break for it without our help, which seems like it will probably go badly.)

There's also a very tempting looking abyss right next to all the prison cells, and Gale has Thunderwave burning a hole in his pocket.

YEET.

The other guard was easily dealt with via a couple of blows from Karlach, which just leaves whatever's happening in the big central chamber, which appears to be the Warden's office, judging by the fact that there is a Warden in it.

Quick chat before the murder, I suppose.

"You spark of the familiar. Do I know you, True Soul? Hm. Perhaps not - your face is rather bland."

Wow, rude. >:|

"Regardless, know this - I am the warden. The prisoners are my charges, and I answer to Disciple Balthazar himself. Stay on my good side."

"Your face is pretty bland too," says Hector, because we're planning to fight this woman anyway, so if he's going to indulge himself in sarcasm, this is the time for it.

She is, of course, unamused. "My face might be bland, but yours - it is now carved into my memory forever."

Not really that impressive a rejoinder, to be honest.

We do have the option to ask her about Duke Ravengard, who is the last prisoner currently unaccounted for; seems like that might be a good idea while we have the opportunity. The Warden didn't know who he is, though - "he sounds important, and I'm afraid the mere dregs are the only ones left in my care."

"I'll do my utmost to impress you," Hector says humbly, with the intention of luring the woman into a false sense of security before they strike.

She snorts. "A pity you're already failing, then."

OK, you know what, I'm tired of you. Karlach, sic 'em.

----

As they all stand around over the Warden's dead body, Karlach nudges it with her boot toe. "That's for calling my boyfriend's face bland," she says, glaring down at the corpse imperiously.

Hector looks amused. "I don't know," he says, mock-innocently. "Are you sure she doesn't have a point?"

She grins. "Hector Carlisle fishing for compliments? What is the world coming to?"

"I just like to hear you say it," he says sheepishly.

"Yeah, all right, well. You're gorgeous and I adore you. Let's finish clearing this godsdamned place out so I can tell you properly somewhere more private."

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #bjk writes her own party banter

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hide-in-imagination · 11 months

Text

Okay, I think I need like... like writer's therapy or something, because this chapter of Roads is just not. clicking. for me and I can't find a flow and I don't know if it's me, I don't know if it's because I've read these scenes one hundred times, I don't know if it's because I'm forcing something I should probably just cut out, or if it's just gotten to a point where I hate this story as a whole. Like, I feel way more motivation to write literally anything else that Roads that cross and that's a problem. Because I don't think I really hate it, I just think my brain is tired and bored, sososo bored because I already know what happens, I've known what happens for 4 years, and I'm not a plotter writer, I'm a discovery one, and there's nothing to discover here, I know these scenes like the back of my fucking hand, and I don't even wanna see them anymore. I'm boooored, I can't freaking figure out if what I'm writing sucks or if I just don't connect with it because I've seen it too many times. AND SOMETHING IMPORTANT HAPPENS IN THIS CHAPTER TOO!! But even about that my brain is like, "So? Who cares?" ksdjnfk. I KNOW YOU CARE, THE PEOPLE WHO DON'T KNOW WILL CARE, but I just can't. fucking. get down to it. I just can't find the words, can't find the roads to make it all come together, I just can't, I-- What the hell do I do? How do I fix this? How do I recalibrate my brain? Because it all sounds bland and stupid and not funny and unimportant and even cringy and I-- What the hell do I do?

#I'm... having a mental crisis #I don't think this really sucks as much ass as I feel it does-- it's probably in my head #but how do I get it *out* of my head skdjfn #jesus take the wheel I can't anymore #cynthia speaks #fic related

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imminentinertia · 10 months

Text

I love Perth Nakhun's snack test videos (and the videos where he reads BL mangas), which is wildly out of character for me because usually video anything is so fucking slow and full of unnecessary word wasting and sound effects and stupid shit, it drives me insane. Perth is probably magical.

So now that he's tried sweets from Norway, I'm going to fucking blog my comments.

youtube

1. Stupedama Myke lakriskuler (I wrote lakriskuker first. If you know Norwegian, you get this). Stupedama (Diving Lady) is really nice entry level salty liquorice. DON'T KEEP THEM IN THE FRIDGE, PERTH. MYKE MEANS SOFT. Very pleased that he liked them, even though they were chilled and discoloured. Let's be honest, the Dutch salty liquorice he's tried is... not entry level.

2. The fans sent him Sørlandschips with Thai chili flavour bwahahahaha. Really now. Send him plain salt, they're great salted thick cut crisps. The "Thai Chili" is awful. Evil fans. Glad he didn't like them.

3. Melkehjerter has never been pronounced in a cuter way. What are you doing, Perth, how wide is your mouth to fit that lump I'm - - Okay, he likes it. That's a really sweet and bland chocolate but okay.

4. Gomp means bird's ass, for the record, but few Norwegians know. Kids like them. Perth too.

5. Omg that poor melted Stratos. Actually that's a really good but very sweet milk chocolate, aerated, and it's nice when it's intact. You'd think melting doesn't alter the taste, but it alters the experience. But how did he find mint in it?!

6. Hockeypulver is NOT entry level! It's sugar and ammonium chloride with a hint of liquorice! Poor Perth. And then he can't stop eating it, I know what that is like.

7. Straight up everyday Maarud Potetgull. Don't worry about the paprika, Perth, it's hardly there, okay he liked it. Btw potetgull is a propriety eponym in parts of Norway - to me, in my dialect area, all crisps are potetgull (often shortened to pottis).

8. Lefsegodt can't have survived the trip... Okay maybe. Congrats on the cinnamon, Perth. Sorry, no, the cinnamon isn't intense. Also, for those foreigners who know of lefse, Lefsegodt isn't that. It's thick lefse with butter, sugar and cinnamon, not thin regular lefse for savoury foods.

9. Lutti Pokémon gummies is something I've never had, so I'll just accept that Perth thinks they're chewy and fairly nice.

10. Mmmmm Smash. They're so fucking addictive. But there's hardly any chocolate left on the one Perth ate, because it's melted... Poor guy didn't get the full Smash experience.

11. Laban Seigmenn are indeed unusually soft for gummies, but were they that awful, Perth? Boo hiss.

12. Gullbrød is great. No it's not supposed to look like that. Ahaha surprise marzipan which he thought was coconut. Doesn't Australia or Thailand do marzipan? He seems completely unfamiliar with it.

13. No, that's called Kvikklunsj, love. It's basically Kit Kat, yes, so it's nice. Glad he liked it.

14. Oh, fancy crisps! From Frosta. Delicious. Very pleased he thinks it's delicious too. Pepper crisps are great.

15. Preparing to fight him about Caramel Smash, because caramel is an abomination. Did he just pronounce it ca-ma-rel? Bedtime, Perth?

16. Omg Lovehearts, I haven't had those since I was about 5 years old and starting to tire of pure sugar sweets. Neither has Perth. There's a reason why we stopped eating them. They're a tried and true heartburn medicine though, or so my friends who have been pregnant say.

17. That is not a Norwegian thing. It's a DDR thing, iirc. Hmph. Glad he didn't like Schlager Süßtafel.

18. Troika is possibly my favourite chocolate, but it's sad that it has melted and I bet he'll hate the marzipan... Okay, the faces he makes are amazing. I almost forgive him for not liking it.

19. Nero is kinda horrible, I think. Perth is adorably surprised at the liquorice, and I don't blame him for not being a fan.

#perth nakhun tries norwegian snacks

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badvgopinions · 2 years

Note

This is such a stupid article that I could barely bring myself to read all of it because I facepalmed so hard.

https://gamerant.com/pokemon-scarlet-violet-team-star-trend-skull-yell-goals-threat-comparison/

It claims that Team Skull, Team Yell and Team Star are bland and part of a devolving trend because they're nuisances instead of threats and apparently that makes the story less compelling because there's lower stakes or something.

Ignoring the fact that both of the OTHER organisations in those games had goals that nearly destroyed both Alola and Galar, with the Aether Foundation unleashing Ultra Beasts on Alola and accidentally triggering a near apocalypse in Alola and Ultra Megalopolis because of Necrozma, and Chairman Rose triggered the Darkest Day again which nearly turned ALL of the region's Pokémon into rampaging kaiju. That's pretty high stakes to me.

There's also the fact that SCARLET AND VIOLET AREN'T OUT YET. We have no idea what Team Star's goals are. They article immediately jumps to conclusions that they're only pointless trouble makers or something when they could be planning their own apocalypse thing. We don't know WHAT their goals are yet so how can they judge them?

There's also the fact that the article claims that "The first villainous team to truly stand out negatively in the mainline series was Team Skull" …Excuse me? I've been a fan of Alola since it's release and I've never heard any negative opinions on Team Skull. Hell, Truegreen7 did a favourite characters poll recently and Team Skull was voted as the second most popular evil team behind Team Plasma. To claim they "stood out negatively is just false.

There's a few things I wanted to say, couldn't choose which one so I'm going to say all of them.

Team Skull was made partially because people were getting kind of tired of the usual terrorist who knew what they were doing. I'm pretty sure THEY were getting tired of that, too, which is why they made Team Skull the focus while the real villains were lurking in the background. And they are the best villain team ever. They're self-aware, relatable and are just really, really funny.

With that out of the way, of course I'm expecting a "secret, true villain" for Violet and Scarlet, but at the same time I kind of don't want there to be. I won't complain if there is but for these games I kind of want your school adventure to be interrupted by a Pokemon. Maybe one that wakes up after 10,000 years and just does destructive Pokemon stuff because they're a destructive Pokemon.

This is probably because futuristic/prehistoric seems to be a theme for these games and I'm probably thinking about Lavos from Chrono Trigger.

Team Star as far as I can tell is just a rival school group or something, which sounds like fun, honestly. I'm not really sure though, nobody is. Like you said, the games aren't out yet. Maybe it'll turn out that they are actually terrorists. Maybe the people behind them will turn out to be someone who's been puppeteering them in the background. Maybe it won't. Maybe we should stop making assumptions about a game that's not out yet, again, like you said.

I am making myself excited for the game though, wanting to know just how the story will be where you're open to get badges in any order. It'll probably be like the Gen 1 games where the order of badges you get doesn't effect the story. But again, nobody outside from the developers knows because the game's not out yet!

#gt: pokemon #pokemon scarlet #pokemon violet and scarlet #pokemon violet #team star

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delirious-lycan · 2 years

Text

to build a home pt 2 - the kitchen

Zack lets himself into Sephiroth’s apartment Saturday morning with the key that the First had given him the day after they’d finished remodeling the living room, and he casts his eyes around until he spots the man curled up on the couch, snoozing. The sight brings a grin to his face, and he walks over to him and settles crosslegged on the floor, content to wait for his friend to wake up.

“What do you want?” The sleepy mumble rumbles out of the pile of hair and muscle.

“Well, someone told me that they wanted to get a start in on the kitchen today, but it looks like they decided it was naptime instead,” Zack says, smiling as Sephiroth gives a languid, almost felid stretch, baring his fangs and all. He props his head up on one hand, looking at Zack with a fond, if not tired, expression.

“I suppose I did say that, didn’t I?” He says, and Zack gives an enthusiastic nod.

“Yup! That means we get to commit acts of demolition to your poor sink!”

“Charming.” With that, Sephiroth pulls himself to his feet and gives yet another stretch, this time drawing his arms high above his head and reveling in the pops of his spine and neck. Zack does his very best not to ogle, he really does, but when Sephiroth puts all his muscles on display like that, well.

Zack finds himself a weak man from time to time. If Sephiroth notices Zack staring at his biceps, he has the good grace to not comment on it.

“Well, let’s get started, shall we?” Sephiroth says, flashing a sharp-toothed grin at his best friend.

Together, they wreak havoc on the simple, bland minimalist kitchen. Zack wonders if Genesis is in the apartment next door, and if he is, what he thinks of the sounds of beating and banging as they tear down the ugly mass produced particleboard cabinets and accidentally shatter the kitchen sink-- a good thing they were planning on replacing that today anyways.

With their demolition derby done for the moment, they each take turns taking a shower to knock off the dust and grit from the exploding particle board fragments. Sephiroth throws on a black t-shirt and some black denim jeans, held together with-- to no one’s surprise-- a black leather belt.

“One of these days I’ll get some color in that wardrobe of yours,” Zack says, and Sephiroth smirks.

“Sure you will,” he says, pulling his rapidly drying hair over his shoulder and quickly twisting it into a rope braid and then securing it with hairties in four different intervals. It’s really the only way to keep his hair both contained and clean when doing work like this, but ShinRa’s PR team always hates it when he contains his hair. Never mind that it’s more convenient for him to have it up.

“To the hardware store?” Sephiroth asks.

“To the hardware store!” Zack exclaims.

“We should totally go, like, retro, you know? That classic homey vibe, but like, old school. What do you think?” Zack asks, showing Sephiroth pictures of his visionary thoughts on his PHS.

"It is... Appealing, though I'm not sure I'm quite so fond of how... Round it looks. Or how bold the colors are," Sephiroth says, and Zack tilts his head in thought.

"Yeah, I guess I can see that! You'd probably dig a more classical, Victorian look then. Let's see what we can make happen," Zack says, tappinn a few more buttons. "Does this suit your fancy a bit more?"

"It does."

"Alright, so we gotta make it harmonize with the living room too, since you've got an open concept apartment. I'm thinking black appliances, red oak cabinets with a nice dark finish, ivory brick-tile walls. Marble flooring and black granite countertops for sure, to add to that elegant look. Gold accents? Nah, that's too much. Hm, we could do black accenting though. It would make the floors pop out more too."

Sephiroth listens to Zack ramble, thinking about a possible different world where neither of them are SOLDIER. Perhaps Zack has a life as an interior designer, and Sephiroth... Sephiroth doesn't know what he would be if he wasn't SOLDIER. Maybe a farmer, with little tiny chickens. He's content to just listen to his friend, though, and as they walk through the store picking and choosing items to decorate the kitchen with, he wonders at the strange feeling that sometimes tickles at his belly when he's around Zack. It's nothing he's ever felt before, though the closest he can compare it to is anxiety. It's different than anxiety, though. It feels... Warm.

It magnifies everytime their arms brush up against each other, and listening to Zack and focusing on the shorter SOLDIER fully allows him to ignore the stares from the people around them. He's not here as Sephiroth of ShinRa, he owes these people nothing. He's here as Zack's friend, and that's all he needs.

It's hours and hours and once more hours later that they finally begin assembling the poor kitchen, though the countertops and flooring will have to be done via installation with a third party. This means, tragically, that there are no countertops or floors down at the moment. It's a survivable tragedy, however, as in true ADHD fashion they both pile whatever happens to be in their hands onto the exposed cabinet drawers and promptly forget about them forever.

The two of them head into the living room together after a long day of hard work, and Sephiroth makes for the bean bag in the cozy corner. Following him over, Zack plops down next to him on it and then immediately squawks when the beanbag shifts underneath him and slams him into Sephiroth's side. The other man let's out a surprised off, but after a moment of shuffling and a strong enough blush to be starkly visible against Zack's brown skin, they settle together on the beanbag pressed against each other, side by side. Zack's heart is jack rabbiting in his chest, and he's certain Sephiroth can hear it.

Sephiroth can hear it, but his own heart rate is elevated to an unusual degree. He's not sure what's causing it, but he doesn't mind it. Cuddled together close like this with Zack, it feels right.

He's not sure what they're moving towards, but he knows he wants more of whatever this feeling is.

#zackseph #sephzack #jaybirdwrites #to build a home

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sociallyanxiousaf · 2 years

Text

the world is shit

it's horrible and and horrible and horrible thing after another and what the fuck can i do about it? that's right, nothing

i can go "oh don't buy from this company" oh okay, i won't . and then it's another company. and another. and another and another and another and another and my god i'm just so tired! this creator is bad, you can't enjoy their shit anymore. oh and this one to. and this one. oh she's horrible. he is too. they're kind of not the best person to exist, you shouldn't support them. but the thing is, even if i do stop supporting them, there's also a lot more people who aren't going to bother so why not just not bother along with them

capitalism or the government is never going to be dismantled or rebuilt, why bother trying to do suggest other options or trying anything about it (what is my measly voice even worth? that's right nothing. it makes no difference whatever side i'm on; especially with my dumb social anxiety making me actually just do jack shit and simply indulge in my shitty youtube which oh look is google google is bad you shouldn't use google they track your voice, history info and shit)

and i'm not even in the workforce yet, not even in post secondary, and i'm so worried about work taking my life away? and it might, but it also probably won't because i'm privileged in being white and raised middle class where my parents have raised post secondary funds for me. but what the fuck do i even want to do? i know what i want to do, that's a lie, but it won't be good enough to support me and i don't know??? if i can even do post secondary??? there's this college that sounds perfect with no written assignments and all formal and hands on and stuff what what can i even do with the fucking degree or whatever it'll provide? but i don't know if i can do i uni because i'm already shit at passing assignments in fucking highschool and i don't think i can handle it but if i end up not doing that i'll end up stuck at multiple minimum wage jobs (and even then a dumb uni degree doesn't guarantee jack shit) or, to quote my mom, "at taxes" like she does. which she complains about every day so i don't want to fucking end up there because she says it's worse than highschool and highschool already feels like shit so!!!

"don't throw away your life away like i did! i used to want to be a marine biologist but then i slacked in uni and now i'm stuck with taxes :((" - mom

"i know you want to go to that college but i would like you to go to uni because you know there's not much you can do with a certificate or whatever from that college"

"you should try this, it's ---, it's course is only so and so long, and it pays pretty good"

"what about this, this could be good-"

"i really think you should go to uni,,, you won't exactly find like-minded people at that college, and i found all my current friends through uni" (in reference to me having zero friends)(my only social life is with my family, my psychologist and this "friend" that i only really ask for notes from because we have nothing in common and i'm like a backup if their main friend isn't in school. we don't do anything outside of school)

and just atop stop stop atop sTOP STOP STOP!

just... stop.

but it can't because unfortunately spacetime doesn't fucking work like that

and the world is full of bigots and capitalistic assholes

and the only thing that really makes me happy anymore is music (spotify is horrible they barely pay their artists you shouldn't have spotify), cartoons (your favourite show has a bigoted christian scammer creator, you shouldn't indulge in that show. and your other favourite show is a disney show. disney are assholes, you shouldn't be supporting disney!) and my cat (there's nothing negative about my kitty cat. i love my kitty cat sm. actually i do have a negative side to my kitty cat. i get their food at petsmart. it's bland catfood pellet shit. ugh)

anyway my eyes hurt from crying, i'm tired, i don't care that it's only 8:00pm; night.

#social says shit #you see i would talk about this to my psychologist #but we mainly work on motivation (it's going nowhere) and whenever she asks how my week was; i don't fucking remember??#and shrug #because forget all this when i go in there apparently

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toko-writing-imagines · 3 years

Note

Toko Fukawa/Genocide Jack x Wife! Reader Headcanons please?

You got it !! But like being a wife or whatever to Toko and Jack sounds absolutely amazing to me-

I wanna be wifey to them so bad

Anyways enjoy your hcs !! ^^ ♡♡

Toko and Genocide Jack x Wife!Reader headcanons

【Toko Fukawa】

• mmm wife good

• Toko probably has and will still write tons of books inspired by you and her because like- you are so amazing to her

• She has you read over her drafts for any new books and always asks you for your criticism - what she can improve on, if the story is too bland or cliché, etc (even if she is the [former when an adult] Ultimate Writing Prodigy, there is still stuff she can improve on)

• Sometimes she wonders how you were able to stick with her for so long to the point that you guys got married (you gotta have the patience of a saint if you wanna marry her )

• Tons of self care!! Before getting married and you two were just dating, you made this thing where once a week you guys just don't work and just- treat yo self. Buying new clothes, going on a small date, staying indoors, baking, fun skin care stuff, etc

• Though old habits die hard, so Toko still has problems with self care and even basic hygiene sometimes

• She still hasn't fully overcome her fear of showing, so to help you just bathe her while talking about whatever is on your mind

• Toko likes to brush your hair, whether it be long or short, she just enjoys the soft texture when feeling it

• There's never really a lot of time to go since she's almost always working to publish new books (as a famous author when older) so whenever she doesn't have to meet some sort of deadline, you two just end up cuddling together in comfortable silence

• That or just really just doing whatever as long as it's relaxing for the both of you in the end

【Genocide Jack/Syo】

• crazy crazy wife

• She *playfully* likes to point her scissors at you for no reason at all

• Jack is one of those people who would call you from a different room and would not reply when you respond

• Also she does this thing where she likes to call you out whenever you walk into the room she is in and that's literally it

• Follows you around a lot just for the heck of it

• Jack is pretty straightforward or blunt for most things, so there are time where she says stuff she could have said more nicer

• No killings!! While the cops still have never caught her, and probably never will, she hasn't killed anyone since you started dating her and that streak still holds up (or at least that's what she tells you... your choice to believe her or not)

• Though she always emphasizes that even if she doesn't kill, she will kill anyone if you told her to

• Loves to hug you from behind a lot, even at the most random times she still hugs you

• Sometimes she writes random letters for you, and while her skills for writing aren't as close to Toko's (not bad, but not close to Toko's), it still leaves something that only she can write (with the occasion vulgar language on the margins)

꒦ ͝ ꒷ ͝ ꒦ ͝ ꒷꒦ ͝ ꒷ ͝ ꒦ ͝ ꒷꒦ ͝ ꒷ ͝ ꒦ ͝ ꒷꒦ ͝ ꒷

↳ ੈ‧₊˚ It's been way too long since I wrote something in my drafts I'm so sorry

but like- I'm finishing requests now so.. yay

I'm tired as heck rn I'm gonna sleep 🚶‍♀️

Take care everyone ♡

~ Mod Toko 💜

#toko fukawa #toko fukawa x reader #toko x reader #genocider syo #genocide jack x reader #genocider syo x reader #genocide jack #danganronpa #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa headcanons #danganronpa thh x reader #danganronpa thh #thh x reader #dr trigger happy havoc #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #trigger happy havoc #dr #dr x reader #headcanons

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talon4ever · 2 years

Text

Lira San Home

This is for @isilwenshadewind.

After the war, Zeb took Kallus along the secret hyperspace path to the planet Lira San. It was then that Kallus realized he hadn't destroyed the Lasat people, and that they were thriving in this new world. A world where he was welcome as one of them.

Zeb and Alexsandr get married on Lira San and live in a forest. Zeb has a dōjō to teach the martial arts of bo-rifle. Alexsandr is a stay at home husband. He gardens and cooks. Does most of the domestic chores.

Alexsandr genuinely gets into cooking. Alexsandr was a poor orphan growing up so good food was scarce. Joining the Empire food was rations that were a grayish, gooey substance and at best tasty horribly bland. Living with the rebellion the food was a great improvement but not always enough. Now that he has the time and ingredients.

Zeb is really happy that his Sasha is cooking for both of them. That he rests and takes time for himself and for Zeb. Six months later Sasha puts on some weight. Zeb loves how soft Sasha is. Alexsandr's hair has grown past his shoulders and braids it with flowers that Zeb pick s for him.

One day Alexsandr is cooking with mushrooms and starts feeling nauseous. He barely makes it to the sink to vomit. He feels sick all day. Zeb finds him in bed, with a trash can next to him. Zeb: “What the matter Sasha?” Alexsandr: “Not feeling well.” Zeb checks Alexsandr's forehead for a fever. Zeb: “No, fever. What feels bad?” Alexsandr: “I feel nauseous, my chest feels tender and I feel so tired. I think I ate something bad.” Zeb: “I’ll make you some tea and dry toast.”

For three days Zeb takes care of Alexsandr. Zeb: “That’s it I’m taking you to a healer. You're not getting any better.” Noramly Alexsandr hates doctors, healers and physicians, but this moment he wants to feel better. Alexsandr: “Alright take me to the healer.” Zeb wraps Alexsandr in a blanket and carries him to the healer.

At the healer there are a few female lasta. Some had children and one was heavily pregnant. The pregnant lasta: "First one?" She ask Alexsandr. "What are you talking about?" Alexsandr look at her confused. "Oh! Don't worry you won't feel like this the whole time. It gets better." Zeb and Alexsandr look at her, still confused. "Alexsandr!" The healer called.

"What can I do for you?" The healer asked. "I'm not feeling well. I feel nauseous, tired and my chest is tender." Alexsandr whined. “No, fever. Any chillies or diarrhea?” “No” “Alright, I’m going to take some blood and do some tests.” After some time , the healer comes back. “Congratulations, You are pregnant. I want you back in three weeks for a check up.” Alexsandr was only hearing a muffled sound.

Zeb carried Alexsandr back to their home. Alexsandr is silent. Zeb sets Alexsandr on the couch. “Sasha are you alright?” “Yes, no, I don’t know.” “Whatever you are feeling it going alright. We will get through this together.” “What if we mess up this baby and they hate us?” “We are not going to mess up this baby. They will probably hate us for a while when they are teenagrs. Don’t you remember what you were as a teen?” Alexsandr was having a sad flashback. “By the Ashla, what if we both die. We leave this baby alone. They are forced to go through trash for food. They join a gang, get arrested, be forced to join an evil regime and then commit war crimes.” “I think we are getting ahead of ourselves. We are not going to die. And Ashla forbid we do die, our baby won’t be alone. They will have Hera, Sabine, and Chava and Gron. This baby will be loved by many.” “You promise?” “I promise.”

After that, Alexsandr calmed down. Three weeks later they go for a check up and find out they are having four babies. And Alexsandr panics again. One pep talk from Zeb later and he was good.

Alexsandr goes into a nesting mode. Their living room becomes one giant nest. There are blankets and pillows. Zeb learns who to make grass bassinets. Alexsandr takes up knitting. After Alexsandr first trimester he has gained a lot of weight. Some from the babies and from Zeb spoiling him. He is having a hard time walking whis his bad leg. Zeb makes him a cane for walking. Chava helps Alexsandr with his cooking. Even Gron comes to keep him company. Life is good for them.

Hera and Sabine come to visit them when Alexsandr is tenth month of pregnancy. They bring Ezra. Ezra being Ezra ends up screwing the tooka. He calls Alexsandr fat and makes him cry so hard. After Ezra escapes Zeb's wrath and things calm down, he apologizes to Alexsandr. All is for the better.

Alexsandr can’t walk anymore at his tenth and half month of pregnancy. Zeb has to carry him around. At first he was not happy about this but after three days he was grateful. 12 months and seven day of pregnancy, Alexsandr goes into labor. Zeb panics a little bit but Alexsandr helps calm him down. Giving birth is long and hard but Alexsandr would not take back one moment. Especially when looking at their four daughters.

Bonus: After six month Alexsandr is still really plump. Alexsandr loves cuddling with his babies. Zeb often comes home to them. He always joins them for a cuddle pile.

#kalluzeb #mpreg #agent kallus #kallus

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blindingdutchy · 3 years

Text

lamentation | SIX

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 3,804

warnings: fluff. lots of fluff. a sprinkle of angst but just a tiny bit.

18+!!! minors stay away!

The following morning at school you relieved to see Peter standing at your locker, appearing unscathed aside from the timid and fearful look in his eye as he watched you approach him. You knew that he was probably expecting you to shut him out again, though you were full of surprises that morning when you breathed a quiet sigh and felt all the remaining anger purge from your system entirely. In reality you had been planning to give him a piece of your mind, telling him just how much of an idiot you thought that he was for his stupid idea, but seeing him sent all those thoughts flying away in an instant.

Instead, all that you could think of was how happy you were to see that he was okay. He was tense as you opened your locker, but seemed to relax slightly when you gave him a fleeting once over and nodded to yourself in approval. Peter was standing and didn't look to be in any pain, and that was all you cared about in that moment.

Apparently Peter was full of surprises too, because the second that you closed your locker he pulled you into a bone crushing hug that quite literally knocked the wind out of you. You gasped quietly, freezing in place at the sudden contact, before you slowly melted into his grip and hugged him back. He somehow managed to squeeze you tighter at the return of the embrace.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into your hair, "I'm so, so, so sorry."

A part of you wondered if Peter even knew what exactly he was apologizing for, if he really understood just why you were upset. Did he know the sorts of things that had crossed your mind last night? Could he really fathom all the crazy emotions you had been feeling?

You didn't think he did. Really, how could he, when even you were still reeling and trying to pinpoint all the different reasons you had been so upset? There were the obvious reasons--like the horrible flashbacks to that fateful day when your sister had been tragically killed--but there were also more complex, subtle reasons that you weren't ready to admit out loud.

Things like the fact that you'd never been so enraged about anything as you had been at the thought of somebody hurting Peter Parker. Not even the animosity you felt toward the Avengers could compare to the fury you had felt while listening to him fight and be attacked by those men. It puzzled you; how could that affect you so much?

You knew why, despite your unwillingness to face the truth. You knew, deep down, that you had been so upset because the thought of Peter being hurt scared you nearly as much as you had been that day. It pained you to think of it, and that was a problem.

It was a problem because being friends with Peter, when he lived the life that he did, meant constantly living in that fear. He was a superhero, constantly putting his life on the line for all the innocent people of Queens and the world alike, and that was absolutely terrifying for you. And yet, for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to push him away like you felt you should.

He pulled away from you slowly, though he kept his hands firmly on your shoulders, and studied your face closely as he asked, "Are you okay? Are we okay?"

Hearing Peter say the word we in reference to himself and you gave you a funny feeling, but you ignored it. "Are you okay?" you parroted, instead, raising your eyebrows challengingly.

"Yes." he stated without hesitation, "I had some bruising, but it's mostly gone now. It wasn't as bad as it sounded, I swear."

You hummed quietly, leading the way to Calculus as he finally released his iron-like grip on your arms. "And was there a reason you didn't come to my window?" you questioned further, glancing back at the boy who chewed his lower lip anxiously.

Peter didn't answer until the two of you had sat in your seats, leaning close to speak in a hushed tone that no one else could hear, "I didn't want to scare you."

The sharp remark was instantly at the tip of your tongue, wanting to spit at him that he already had, repeatedly, but you held back at the sight of his big, brown, puppy eyes blinking at you shyly. He was fiddling with his fingers apprehensively, clearly waiting for some sort of remark, and it gave you pause. This was Peter, and Peter wouldn't hurt a fly intentionally.

You had to keep reminding yourself of that. Reminding yourself that he didn't mean to scare you like he had, and that he meant well even if his intentions didn't quite land right. So, you just whispered back, "It scared me when you didn't show up, and you didn't say anything."

"I--I didn't know if you wanted me to."

Catching one of his fretting hands in your own, you gave him a serious look as you replied, "I always want you to."

The teacher called the class to attention immediately after you closed your mouth, and you turned away with burning cheeks at the star-struck look on Peter's face. Perhaps that had been too bold of a statement, but it was the truth; you did always want to hear from Peter. You always wanted to know if he was okay, even if all he had to say to you was a bland text to let you know he'd survived another night of patrol.

Now, after all the things you had heard, you hoped he'd take your words seriously and let you in like you had for him. Could you go to sleep every night without knowing for sure he had made it through the night unscathed? Easily, the answer was no. You couldn't, and you really wanted him to put your mind at ease.

After gym class, which was spent with you panting whilst running sprints with Peter pretending to be just as winded, he held your bag for you beside your locker and waited patiently for you to exchange your books. You could tell that something was on his mind from the way he shifted from foot to foot nervously, and growing tired of having to chase your bag around, you asked, "What's your deal, Pete?"

He blinked at the nickname, but after a moment finally found his voice again, "Sit with me at lunch?"

"Okay?"

"No, like, sit with Ned, MJ, and I." he reiterated, and you wrinkled your nose. "Come on, I promise they'll love you! There's really nothing to be scared of, (Y/N)."

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him that there were in fact a million reasons for you to be scared, but he pouted his lips like a child and pleaded with you silently until you caved, "Fine, fuck, just stop making that face!"

And so, you found yourself trailing through the cafeteria awkwardly in Peter's shadow. You could feel the stares on your body even though you refused to look, the stares of all your fellow students watching the resident crazy girl make her way through the cafeteria all year. You usually sat at the table right by the doors and the garbage cans, the one place you could slip in and out without making a spectacle of yourself, but Peter's usual table was all the way in the back of the large room.

There sat Ned Leeds and Michelle Jones, both of whom were watching you curiously as you looked back at them in discomfort. You'd never known them to be mean--well, Michelle could mean in her blunt manner--but that didn't ease your nerves at all. The fear you felt wasn't because you were weary of their judgment.

You were scared of letting more people into your life. More attachments meant more for you to lose, and after all that you had lost, you were rather unwilling to put yourself out there. It was a surprise enough to yourself and probably everyone else that you'd made room in your caged heart for Peter. He was perhaps the most dangerous of all to let in, yet you had.

"Hey, (Y/N), right?" Ned greeted cheerfully, doing a weird handshake with Peter as the two of you sat down across from him and MJ. You just nodded, not trusting your voice to come out should you dare to speak. "How was the Stark Internship, dude?"

Your face pinched in puzzlement, and Peter chuckled at the way you glanced at him curiously. "She knows, Ned." he muttered, nudging your knee with his own as he pulled a smashed sandwich from his bag and unwrapped it. "It was... rough. I handled it, though."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the Stark Internship was a cover story for Peter's secret identity. "She knows? You told her, already?" MJ gaped, "No offense, but I had to figure that shit out for myself."

As Ned and MJ stared at Peter incredulously, the two of you shared a look as you begged him not to say anything and he scrambled to think of any sort of a cover story. "She--she helped me one night when I got hurt pretty bad. Had to take my mask off." he finally blurted, stumbling over his words, and you noticed how his eyes squeezed shut for a moment in frustration at his lame answer.

"Why didn't you call one of us?" Ned interrogated, eyes flickering between your own and Peter's as if he were trying to pick up on any dishonesty.

MJ, blunt as always, just asked, "Is that why you started following her around like a dog?"

You had to chuckle when Peter pouted, sticking his tongue out at Michelle's remark and whining, "I did not follow her around like a dog!"

"You kind of did." you mumbled quietly. All three of them stared at you in stunned silence for a few seconds, shocked by your sudden interjection, and you busied yourself with rearranging your carrot sticks.

Peter's knee bumped yours again, and you nudged his back. He shot you a little smile, pleased with you making an effort even if it was thoughtless, and you found yourself relaxing slightly under his gaze as MJ and Ned continued to joke about how much Peter had embarrassed himself following you around. "Remember when he threw all of his shit on the ground in Calculus?" Ned sputtered through laughter.

The brown-haired boy's cheeks blazed red at the story, and you found yourself laughing along with his two friends as you remembered it. At the time it had only embarrassed you, but now as you looked back on it, you couldn't help but to find it endearing. So, you nudged his knee again and bit back the grin fighting its way onto your face as you kept your eyes on your lunch.

Suddenly, he put his hand on your knee and squeezed it softly, and your entire body seemed to burst into flames. Before you could pull away, scared of the intense feeling it gave you, a voice cut above all the rest, "Penis Parker!"

His hand was gone in an instant, but you remained hot for an entirely different reason. Flash Thompson sauntered up to the table with his typical smug smirk, calling again, "Hey, Penis Parker! Finally find a girl miserable enough to settle for you?"

Peter's face turned red and pinched into a frown, but he just muttered quietly, "Go away, Flash."

"Figures you'd go for (Y/N). The whole dead family thing, right? Does she just get you?"

You tensed, turning your head slowly to glare up at Flash with a ferocity that seemed to even make him falter, though he hid it quickly behind his usual mask. "Go the fuck away, Eugene." you hissed, but he just laughed.

Seeing that he wasn't planning on going anywhere, punctuated by the way he propped his foot up on one of the seats and sneered down at you, you quickly grabbed all of your stuff and stood up. Peter, Ned, and MJ were quick to follow, and all four of you made your way out of the cafeteria as Flash shouted, "Aw, did I hurt your feelings, Penis Parker?"

"Peter?" you called after him, trailing behind as he walked at a brisk pace. Ned and MJ disappeared around a corner, heading off in a different direction, and you were trying to catch up with the boy who seemed eager to shake you off. "Pete?"

He slowed, sighing quietly, and turned to face you with still red cheeks and eyes swimming with anger. "What?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Briefly, you felt hurt at his attitude, but you brushed it off. You knew that he was just frustrated at Flash, and you were no stranger to misplaced anger. It would have been pretty hypocritical of you to be upset with him after how long he'd put up with you lashing out at him when he just wanted to be your friend.

You walked toward him hesitantly, almost reaching out to hug him, but you thought better of it in the end. You didn't want to push things too far, too fast, and one hug was more than enough for one day. Instead, you rocked back on your heels and asked, "Walk me to class?"

Peter blinked at the question, clearly expecting you to say something else, and after a moment nodded. "Yeah, yeah, let's go." He didn't relax at all as he walked beside you through the still empty halls, though his hand kept bumping yours every now and then, and for a fleeting second outside of your classroom he squeezed your hand before dropping it and walking away.

The rest of the day, Peter was stiff and aloof. He barely talked to you during Speech class, though that didn't really matter considering Ms. Lovell actually lectured that day, but you could tell he was upset. It felt a little strange to suddenly switch roles; he was now playing the part of the closed off one, and you were left trying to figure out how to get through to him.

Making people feel better wasn't exactly your strong suit anymore. Once upon a time it had been, but since your sister's death you'd seemingly lost the ability to even make yourself better. Yet, you wanted more than anything to get him back to the smiling, happy boy he'd been earlier that day.

As the two of you packed up your things after class to go home, you watched him anxiously to see if he'd finally say something, but he didn't. So, you cleared your throat and quietly asked, "Do you want to hang out?"

He paused for a moment, staring down at his bag in silence with tensed shoulders and creased brows, before finally looking up at you and giving the tiniest smile. "Come on." was all he said, zipping his bag and waiting expectantly for you to follow him out of the classroom.

You followed him out of the building, to the subway, onto the subway, and off of it again, all without a single clue as to where you were going. It wasn't until the he lead you into an apartment building that you realized he was taking you to his house, and suddenly you were extremely nervous. "Do you live here?" you asked, immediately cringing at the stupid question.

He just laughed, "Yeah. My Aunt May is home, she'll probably offer you food, but just say no. Trust me."

For a moment you wanted to ask why, but then you remembered how he'd told you when he'd first started following you around that his Aunt May was a truly atrocious cook. Except for cherry pie, it seemed, because he'd raved to you about that over the phone for what felt like hours the other day. Nodding affirmatively, you replied, "Right, just say no."

Peter's home life was far different from your own, even before the incident. His aunt was a bright, lively young woman who was very excited to meet you, and just as much of an affectionate person as you were finding Peter to be. She'd been overjoyed to meet you, letting slip that Peter had told her lots about you, but he'd cut her off before she could ramble about the things he'd said.

Part of you wondered if he'd told her how the two of you had met, but you knew better than to think Peter would do such a thing. He wasn't the type of person to spill others' secrets. How could he, when he had such a big secret of his own?

His room was everything you had expected it to be, though. A cramped little room with bunk beds adorning Star Wars sheets, LEGOs everywhere, and a plethora of computer parts littering every possible surface. He blushed a little as you took it all in, stammering when you smirked at the sheets in amusement, but overall he seemed relieved when you didn't mention the clutter.

It was very Peter Parker. Messy, slightly chaotic, and very nerdy. You sat on the bottom bunk, which you deciphered to be his by the rumpled sheets, and watched as he awkwardly tried to sort out the mess a little. "So," you started, "why don't you stand up to Flash at school?"

He sighed, giving up on his tidying and sitting beside you. "I knew you would ask that." he joked, though the humor didn't quite meet his eyes. "It's a long story."

"I have time, Pete." you spoke softly, and a little smile twitched at his lips.

He raked a hand through his messy hair, the combed style starting to curl from a long day, and you wondered what his hair looked like with nothing done to it. "Well, I guess it all goes back to when I first got... my abilities. You know, after the bite, I kinda went crazy for a bit. I was determined to prove myself, or something--I don't know. I just showed off a lot and got myself into a lot of trouble because of it."

Peter continued when you looked at him expectantly, "My Uncle Ben was going crazy too, trying to figure out what was going on with me. We got into a lot of fights before he--before he, um, died. We got into one the night he died."

"He tried to stop me from going out because he just knew I was going to do something I shouldn't, and we just got into this huge argument. It ended with me telling him he wasn't my dad and to stop pretending he was, and I ran off." He was getting choked up, stumbling over his words and gripping his knees with his hands as tears welled up in his eyes at the memories.

Hesitantly, you put your hand on top of his, and he was quick to flip his hand over and grip yours tightly as if he were afraid you'd pull away from him. As he spoke, it was starting to sink in just how much Peter truly could understand your anguish over your sister. He could understand why you blamed yourself, because he too had blamed himself, and your heart broke at the thought of Peter ever being in a position like the one you'd been in that night.

Had he ever tried to do what you had planned to do? Your own eyes burned at the thought, and you squeezed his hand back just as tightly. "He came looking for me, and happened to interrupt a robbery. Uncle Ben, he--he was a really good guy. He couldn't just let the guy get away. So, he uh, he tried to stop him... and the guy stabbed him."

"I'd seen the robbery before that, but I'd been so angry I just kept walking. I could have stopped it before Uncle Ben ever showed up, but I didn't, and he got stabbed because of it." Peter coughed to stop himself from really crying, "The last thing he said to me was that with great power comes great responsibility, and I just can't let him down."

You almost wished that you hadn't asked, because it hurt to see him in so much pain, but you felt good knowing that Peter really did understand you. You felt closer to him, and a little part of you felt a little less distaste for superheroes in that moment too. Did they all know such tragedy? Did they all suffer such pain, too?

Peter looked at you, blinking away tears as his voice steadied, "So, that's why I don't use Spiderman unless I have to. I didn't stand up for myself before, so I shouldn't now. I didn't play sports before, so I shouldn't now. It wouldn't be fair, and it wouldn't be right. I have this gift, and it's my responsibility to use it for good. I can deal with Flash's stupid taunting--I was so upset today because of what he said about you."

The fluttering was back, stronger than ever, and you couldn't shove it aside no matter how hard you tried. The moment was too serious--too heartfelt. It was too close.

Doing what you did best, you created a little more distance to keep your heart safe. You weren't ready to admit that maybe you liked Peter in a not-so-friendly sort of way. You weren't ready to let him into that last little bit of your heart.

So, you joked, "Well, he was right about one thing--I do get you." To your relief, he laughed, though he didn't let go of your hand. You didn't want him to, either.

"Seriously, though, you don't have to worry about me. Flash doesn't bother me, not really anyways." Peter continued, and the pair of you smiled at each other like a couple of love-struck fools for a long moment. Peter, unlike you, wasn't so keen on or capable of hiding his feelings. It was written all over his face for you to see that he liked you, and even if it made you feel good it still made you squirm with discomfort.

You were just thankful that he hadn't tried to take things further, though the subtle touches were probably his timid way of doing just that. The touches you could handle. It was what came after--the truly taking things to that next level part--that scared you. If you told him how you thought you were feeling, and he told you the same, then that just made the possibility of losing him that much worse.

SERIES TAGLIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton @zendayasfwb @sweet-symphony

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fanficparker · 3 years

Text

A GAME OF DIAMONDS AND HEARTS // H.O.

>> CHAPTER SIX

“They agreed with each other violently and disagreed with each other pleasurably.” - A Suitable Boy, Seth

(Frenemies to Lovers! Mob AU! ) Harrison Osterfield x Fem!OC

Word count: 2.13k words

Warning: Swearing, guns, knives.

Synopsis: After the sudden death of his uncle and the eccentric multi-millionaire mafia king Lufian Clarke, Harrison Osterfield’s almost decent life is mostly devastated especially when half of what should be rightfully his fortune is transferred to their immediate rival for reasons he doesn’t know. What’s remaining is him trying to figure out how to deal with this collaboration of two rival corporations that don’t belong together and work on the side of the woman he never knew would ever be referred to as his partner in crime while they are dragged into a mess bigger than what they were trained to handle.

<< FIVE [ MASTERLIST ] SEVEN >>

"Who let you enter my private study?"

Harrison asked, stopping with one step inside his office, fixing the watch on his wrist. His eyes focused on the uninvited guest.

"My ability to walk." A smirk played over Sandhya's lips as she flipped a page in the file she was holding, twirling the ball pen between her fingers. The base of the pen rested below her lip as she lifted her eyelid to catch a glimpse of Harrison's irritable face. And damn he indeed was irritated.

"No one comes here without my permission." He hissed, striding into the centre of the room, staring at her furtively until his gaze landed on the other parts of his office. His office was a mess. Not anywhere near how he left it. His file cabinet was open and at least twenty files were lying on the sofa and a few over his desk. There were two on Sandhya's lap as she sat with her legs crossed over each other, leaning back leisurely in one of the chairs, skimming through the papers. An empty plate and a coffee mug were also sitting on his desk. The mug wasn't even placed over a coaster. He could even see some bread crumbs scattered on the wood.

He barely managed to not lash out at her, clenching his fists. Drawing in a shallow breath, he opened his mouth in an attempt to reason with her but she was the first one to speak.

"Can you log into the system? I need to look up something." She pointed the tip of the pen at the computer placed on his desk. Her voice was far from that of requesting even if she framed it as a question.

Harrison's brows pinched, "Are you serious?!" His voice sounded so pitchy, almost resembling a train wreck about to happen.

"Yes."

That's all? His stomach rumbled with anger. She didn't even look up at him. That bland yes twisted like a snake in his gut. He was past taking orders, especially from her. So, he walked up to her, swallowing his building rage and snatched the file she was holding.

"Hey!" She squealed, trying to take it back as he pushed it over his head and out of her reach.

She rose from the chair, about to grab it when he dropped the file on the floor behind his back, scattering the papers.

"Why would you--"

"Because it's my office and those are my files! And fucking," he seethed, trying to keep his voice casual, lifting the mug from the table, "We don't eat in the study, let alone dump the scraps on the desk. Also, you didn't even use a coaster!" He groaned upon noticing the ring the liquid left on the wood before he settled the mug again on the table, only this time there was a coaster beneath it.

Her eyebrows pulled together, disbelief roaring through her head, "You are worried about the coaster--"

"The white oak---"

"The uncle was murdered in this house and the nephew is more interested in coffee stains." She squinted her eyes, shaking her head.

Harrison bit back a groan. Her words had managed to flip his stomach. He sighed keeping his conduct civil.

"As much as I am curious about Clarke's mysterious death," he spoke as calmly as he could, meeting her eyes, "We aren't even sure if he was murdered in the first place."

"You gotta be kidding me!"

"I am not kidding you!" He bit back, "And anyway, get out of here. I don't like outsiders touching my stuff," he shifted his gaze to the side, hands folded across his chest.

She scoffed, almost scornfully. "Says the one who had no problem sleeping together."

Harrison's neck snapped at the words, his temper reaching new heights. Gritting his teeth, he took a step forward, looking down at her face. "If I had known it was you, I would have never--"

"Exactly!" She snapped, "You didn't know who you were sleeping with, how do I ensure you know about the people working here?"

"That's bullshit."

Sandhya exhaled, failing to reason with him. It was harder than she had expected. So, she tried the gentler way, trying to make her words sound closer to a request, "I need you to give me access to your computer." For no avail--

"What made you think I would do that? You have already seen enough." His hands dropped from his chest and she fought back the urge to roll her eyes.

The last attempt at asking and being gentle, "Look Harrison," her voice was sweeter as if she had accepted her defeat, moving to the last resort, "You have already ruined my Plan A and now I need to know about certain things to come up with a Plan B."

"You really think you're some kind of mastermind in planning? Don't you?"

"Harrison, that was my job back then--"

"Oh. I thought your job was to seduce strangers and sleep with them." He didn't hesitate but when the words finally parted his lips, he noticed the light in her eyes dimming for a brief second, the little grin on her lips fading. His heart thumped in his throat. Perhaps, he went too far.

But what he said wasn't a lie. Perhaps, it was okay. He didn't care anyway, yet his eyes moved to her neck, somewhere-anywhere, away from her face.

Those scars on her throat fell into his line of sight. Fine red lines, shallow, peeking off from her pink hoodie. He hadn't paid much attention before but she looked cute in the outfit, a way he had never expected her to look. Her expression defied the notion though, driving his brain back to the thick air that engulfed them.

Her hand came to cover her throat, gently rubbing across the marks. He swallowed. His eyes flickered back to hers and she averted her gaze to the side. Probably, that was the closest he would ever get at marking her.

He was waiting for a reply, a sharp hit back. Instead, the air between them seemed to hum quietly. Harrison had hit the mark so blatantly, Sandhya didn't even bother refuting it. And that somehow bothered him.

She tore her gaze from him, turning on her heel. He felt the urgent need to cut the silence.

"I don't support the idea of a murderer walking among us." He spoke slowly.

He heard her sigh heavily.

"Well enough," she made up her mind, walking away from him and picking up the file, he had previously dropped, "You live in your protected shell, dreaming about sunshine and rainbows while someone stabs you in your sleep," her voice was still without heat or anger, "But you know what..."

She turned to face him again, eyes hardening, "I don't want to die or lose what I have earned so, I'm going to do something about it."

"Good luck." He muttered, eyes never leaving her figure as she stormed off the room.

***

The day was heavy on Sandhya. Checking up all the records of the people Clarke had ever worked with was more time consuming than she had thought, especially considering how her initial plan of dividing the work with Harrison went amiss.

She had navigated through whatever documents he had in his room, along with Clarke's and had taken the help of Holly to get access to their server. It would have been nicer to have her in person than on a phone but she was indeed helpful, although, Sandhya hadn't found anything game-changing. There was at least a compact list of people she had her suspicions on, though.

The library was bigger than what it appeared from afar. Probably they could shoot a Jurassic Park movie in here. Or Night at the Museum or library or whatever. She had laughed at the thought. She had also walked through all three tiers of the magnificent space, analyzing the delicately carved rosewood shelves carrying books older than time. They even had some of the original manuscripts of the classics. Unbelievable.

But now she was tired. It was over six hours, she was sitting there, skimming through all the information she could get her hands on. The mob business was full of mischief. Interacting with people you should definitely keep a six feet distance from was customary .

She sighed, shutting the library computer and keeping the files aside. Untying her hair and pressing her fingers against the pulsing side of her head, she tried to relax. A gasp left her lips. She bet she saw a shadow move outside.

Her heart stopped for a moment when the lights flickered. There was definitely someone who shouldn't be here.

Slowly, carefully, she rose from her seat, ducking down the table. Then she heard it. Footsteps. She scrambled forward, keeping low, hiding behind a pillar, drawing the knife from her clothes. She waited and waited, breathing through her nose. But no one came for her. And then it hit her.

They could be here for Harrison.

She risked a peek, looking outside the library. There was still no one in sight. The alleyway seemed dark, dead; enough to accelerate her pulse. She climbed down the stairs, one foot at a time, letting her eyes wander around the hall. Stopping and hiding behind an intersected wall, she saw it: A guy in all black, twisting the knob to Harrison's room, the haft helpless in the vice of his grip. He entered inside.

Sandhya swallowed. Her throat felt dry. She only had a knife on herself right now. Protecting Harrison at all costs was a requisite. Even when he was an insufferable jerk.

He was a team.

And she hated teamwork.

She also hated jerks.

Harrison turned in his sleep, lying over the left side of his body, hugging the silk sheets that covered him. His room was pitch black, with curtains all drawn shut. He preferred sleeping in the dark and maybe that was the reason why the silver light shining over his thin eyelids discomforted him. He wasn't a heavy sleeper and little sounds managed to bother him.

He had somehow grown accustomed to the noise his clock made. His mind erratically jumped between disconnected, unwanted thoughts whenever he sensed other sounds in his proximity. Sounds that didn't match the rhythm of his clock.

Noises of shallow breathing.

Noises of out of tune footfalls.

Out of tune...

His eyes flew open, wide, fixed on the dagger that stood three feet above his chest, reflecting the minimal amount of light his window shades failed to conceal.

He tried to kick off his sheets but the dagger lunged forward swiftly like a wild animal. He squirmed, unable to move, waiting for the impact. Only that he never felt the object pierce his body. The guy groaned, his steps faltering backwards.

Harrison unspooled himself from the sheets, quickly switching on the lamp. Leaping from the bed, hands first, he landed on his toes, squatting.

Sandhya's arms were crossed around the guy's neck from the back. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she tried to push him back.

"Don't just stand there!" She cried, struggling to hold the big guy as she pulled him backwards, pressing her forearms against his throat.

Harrison shook his head, jumping forward. His heart pounded in his chest as he hit the man over his shoulder. The guy with his face blocked out with a black woollen mask, wailed, stumbling on his feet. He slammed Sandhya's back against the window, dropping both his weapon and the whimpering girl on the floor.

Harrison tried to catch him but he ran, pushing him back, storming off the door. His eyes roamed at the door and then at Sandhya. He sighed, giving out his hand. Grabbing it, she pulled herself on her feet.

"Don't say it." He mumbled, jutting his tongue out of his compressed lips.

"Told you so." She said anyway, voice so low that only he could hear, flashing him a small grin, more of a grimace, actually. His own mouth twisted but then his eye caught the sight of his window, the shades drawn away because of the rustling. His slight frown turned into a scowl.

"Watch out--" He grabbed Sandhya by her waist, pulling her down with him, capturing her body beneath his as a gunshot blasted the window of his room, crashing, shattering the glass over them.

A moment passed in silence as they tried catching up their breath.

"Are we even?" He mouthed, manoeuvring his eye line back up to her face. She was horrified, her chest rising and falling.

"We'll see..."

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kerie-prince · 3 years

Text

We're Worlds Apart (3)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: cursing, angst(?), Draco being a meanie :(

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

a/n: not my best lmao kinda gets cheesy. anyways, Y/M/N = your mother’s name and Y/B/N = your brother’s name

(gif cred)

“Do I really have to get one?” Draco whined in the middle of the phone store, getting his very first cellular device.

“Yeah, man. It's 2008 and you still write letters. Plus, your bird took a shit on my car,” Blaine said matter-of-factly. He found it funny that Draco still used an owl post for communication; the only other person Blaine knew that still uses an owl is his 97 year old grandmother. And even she has a landline in her house. “It's just easier and quicker to use. Why wait a whole day for a letter when you can just text me and I’ll respond in two seconds?”

“I’ve never even used a wall phone, how do you expect me to use a bloody cell-phone, Blaine?” Draco was fidgeting in his seat as he waited for the store employee to finish, what was it called, a credit score? Muggles sure are weird.

She came back shortly with a small, black box that had a weird word on it. What the bloody hell is an iPhone? She explained how it turned on, all the applications it carried, and details about billing and more. Draco was still confused about the whole thing but Blaine said that he would help him understand it better.

“Well look at you, Dray. A modern wizard in America,” Blaine jokes. Draco played with the new device, working out all the kinks of it. He sent his very first text message to Blaine at that moment. Took him precisely 5 minutes to type out a very bland, simple ‘Hello. -Draco L. Malfoy’

It made Blaine laugh so hard that he held his stomach. “My god, we’re gonna have to work on your texting skills, man. First things first, you don't have to sign your name at the end of a text. I know it's you.” Blaine explained to Draco all the fundamentals of texting as they walked through the halls of Santa Marie.

Throughout the day, Draco shared his new number with his department. The more he shared his number, the faster he became at typing.

At the end of his shift, he went to a nearby restaurant where he usually picked up dinner —not one to know his way around the kitchen — and headed home.

It's been a good week for him; his mother had sent him a letter everyday, he finished setting up the guest room for Theo and Blaise, he has this new phone, and best of all, Y/N had not crossed his mind once.

Now he still hasn't accepted what she does in her free time, but also he realized that she’s not exactly harming him nor did she know what he was. He's usually busy with all the work he does, anyway. It was quite a sudden change of heart. But mostly, it was his mother that was able to talk to him and change his views.

My dearest son, had it been during the time before the war, I would have agreed with you. But you have to understand that things are different now. You're different now. Now I am not forcing you, but maybe you should just talk with her just once. If not, just ignore her. After all, she only lives next door.

When he read the letter, he could practically hear all of his friends telling him ‘She's right, you know.’ And deep down, he knew it too. So he went with her advice: ignore Y/N.

—

You’ve had a terrible week; your assistant manager forgot to count the inventory which meant she also forgot to make an order for inventory. A group of teens stole a bunch of little vials of oils you had put on display. And to top it all off, a man stood in front of your shop with signs that had biblical verses written on them, blocking the entrance way and essentially driving away any potential customers. You called security but they never came.

You were used to this happening, it's happened all your life. But that didn't mean that it didn't hurt. I'm not harming anyone, so why does this happen to me? Next week, your mother was flying in from Maine to look around the house to make sure nothing would ‘freak Stephanie out.’

Driving back home, you were just waiting to mix some bath salts in your tub, play music, and relax for the next couple of days. By sheer coincidence, as you pulled in you noticed your neighbor that you now knew as Draco pull into his driveway.

This week can't exactly get worse you thought as your legs carried you to his front door. With gentle knocks on the door, you waited patiently. Being rejected once more didn't bother you, but you at least wanted to hear him speak to you and try your chance to become better acquainted.

Draco opened his door, his tie was undone and he looked confusingly at you. “Can I help you?”

Panic overcame your senses and without thinking, you blurted out, “Do you hate me?” You noticed his shocked face as it was probably not something he expected to hear.

“Excuse me, what exactly are you talking about?” he asked in his entrancing British accent. It was too late to take it back, so you just kept going with it. “I’m sorry, but you moved in here four months ago and you seem to have made friends with everyone around here but for some reason, you won’t even say ‘hi’ to me. Did I offend you or something?” You sounded exhausted and sad. Not only at the week you just had, but how Draco wasn’t being so neighborly with you as he was with everyone else on the street. It bothered you so much to no end. And the most frustrating thing was that you didn’t understand why.

“Uh, I apologize that we haven’t been on speaking terms but I don’t think I have to talk to you now, do I?” Draco scoffed. Why is he being such a jerk? “I’m not saying that you have to talk to me, but it’d be nice if you could at least wave or something. But instead, you look at me funny and ignore me. It’s kinda rude.”

“Merlin, you muggles are so temperamental.” Draco said under his breath. The word sounded funny to you.

“Muggles? Did you just call me a muggle?” The look on Draco’s face didn’t go unnoticed. He stared at you for a few moments, not saying anything. What does that mean? “Is that what you call Americans in the UK? Doesn’t really sound nice.”

Draco started laughing mockingly at you, his grip on his door tightening and knuckles turning white, “Look, I don’t understand what it is exactly you want from me but I will say this; the fact that you are so offended that I won’t acknowledge you is honestly quite fucking childish and if you couldn’t get the hint then I’ll say it plainly for you now. I don’t. Wish. To. Be. Friends. With. You. Got it?” and with that, he slammed the door in your face.

Groaning out, you yelled at him through his door, “Fuck you then! I don’t wanna be friends with some rude prick!” You ran to your door and slammed it pretty hard. The sudden noise frightened your cat and made her run from her tower into your room. What the fuck is his deal?

You walked to your room, pissed off and tired. Looking up, you saw Draco in his room. You stared each other down before you walked up to your window to close your blinds, flipping him off before it fully closed. Afterwards, you took a regular shower and went to bed. Anger built up inside you, and for probably the first time, you hated another human being. And you had to live next to him for god knows how long.

“I mean, did you really have to say that to her?” Ian and Ashley had just listened to Draco explain what had happened the night before. Ian just sat in the chair eating his lunch as Ashley responded to him. “I know things might be different in England, but you should’ve given her a chance. She could be nice. I have a couple No-Maj friends on my block.”

“I’m on Ash with this. Is it really all because she’s Wiccan? Be honest, Dray,” Ian chipped in. At that point, Draco didn’t really know what to say. He thought he could look past it, but he couldn’t. “Maybe, yeah. I come from two families that had very strict traditions and views of muggles. I thought I dropped those views but seeing first hand what they do and-”

“And it makes you feel like a freak? Because you’re a real wizard that can do magic and they sit in some weirdly drawn circle and ‘do’ magic?” Ashley finished Draco’s sentence, making quotation marks with her hands. “I get it, I really do. I was offended too when I had to read about No-Maj’s doing this during school. And then to see movies where witches are viewed as ugly, green-skinned hags with warts on her face and wear rags for clothes. Kinda brings you down as a kid. But I got over it. You should, too.” Ashley held Draco’s hand for a bit before she grabbed her coffee mug and left for her appointments.

Ian sat quietly, watching as Draco was sinking in everything he was advised. “Look man, it’s not really my business to be telling you what you should or shouldn’t like, and who you should or shouldn’t like. And you know what, you’re not exactly in the wrong to get mad about what happened. After all, she just kinda picked a fight with you out of nowhere.” Draco had a face that looked as if he was saying ‘Right? I’m not crazy here’

“But,” of course there’s a ‘but’, “from what I hear around the street, Y/N’s really nice. Super weird for sure, but an overall nice person. I think you should think about it.” Ian nodded at Draco before joining Ashley out of the breakroom. Draco sat there, thinking about what his friends said and also thought back to his mother’s letters. I’m such a child. And I’m the one that called her childish. If he was honest, you were but it didn’t make him better.

He knew what he was going to do after work. It pained him to have to apologize to someone. Apologizing wasn’t something he was exactly used to doing. He’s only done it once to Harry and his friends nearly three years after the Battle. He didn’t even really know what to say to you. But he’ll figure it out. Right?

You stood shocked at your doorstep, hands holding onto the sweater as you looked before you. “Mom, you’re here early.”

“I had been given an extra week off of work so I thought I’d just come and see my oldest baby before your brother and Stephanie comes. Also gives me a head start to plan our dinner and get this house situated,” your mother walked past you with her two large luggage cases and dropped them on your living room floor. She looked around the house and eyed all the decorations and pictures on the walls.

To her, everything was nearly normal. You had family pictures posted and some pictures of you and your friends from college. In the living room, you had a tapestry hung up behind your couch that used to belong to your grandmother. “Y/N please, will you take down that blanket? Why don’t you put up a picture of some flowers, or maybe something abstract?”

“Because I don’t want a picture of flowers and that’s not a blanket. It was Grandma’s. I want it hung up there. Ma, you gotta understand that it’s my house now.” Your arms were crossed due to the cold. You had the day off and tried to spend it well as you did your cleansing spell in the morning, but it seems that it wasn’t very effective seeing as your mother came in and immediately started nitpicking everything.

“It was cute in your room when you were a kid. But you’re 26 now. How would your boyfriend feel if he walked in here and thought ‘oh, didn’t know I was dating a 16 year old.’” Her constant criticism was nearly pushing you to the edge. “Ma, I don’t really want to argue with you tonight so I’m just going to bed-” a doorbell rang throughout the house and you were thanking whoever was listening for giving you a reason to walk away from your mother.

As soon as you opened the door, you were met with another face that you weren’t exactly excited to see. “Can I help you?” you repeated Draco’s words from last night back at him in a spiteful tone.

Through gritted teeth, he looked at you and said, “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for being an arse yesterday. I hope we can look past it and become well-acquainted neighbors.”

“Huh, you’re sorry? You don’t really sound it.”

“I know, I’m not really used to doing this,” Draco quipped. “But nonetheless, I would still like to apologize.”

“Yeah, whatever, I’m sorry too.” You were about to close the door until your mother came up and pushed the door completely open, “Honey, who’s at the door- oh! Hello, I’m Y/M/N. And you are?” She looked at Draco with the nicest smile that you had ever seen on her.

“Hello, My name’s Draco. Nice to meet you,” he awkwardly shook your mother’s hand. He didn’t smile, but he also didn’t have the usual scowl on his face when he would look at you. Guess he does have manners. “Y/N, is this a friend of yours?” your mother insinuated with a less than discreet wink. Without missing a beat, you replied, “No. Ma, this is my new neighbor. I just met him. But it’s late, so nice meeting you Draco. See you around.” And you closed the door.

“That was rude, Y/N. You should have invited him in. He’s very cute,” your mother grabbed her bags and headed into the guest room. From a distance, you could hear your mother speak to herself, saying ‘At least this room looks normal’. “It’s kinda late. Besides, we have all the time in the world to talk.”

You walked to your small closet and grabbed the special bath salts for stress relief and walked to your bathroom. Starting to strip, your mother barged in. “Ma! Privacy, please!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. I gave birth to you. Anyways, how long has it been since he moved in? Do you think he knows about your witchy stuff?” She asked as she stood by the door, checking her reflection as you continued to undress for your bath. “I don’t really hold a sign around my neck that says I’m a Wiccan, Mother,” you said with closed eyes. Your mother said, “I hope not. Night, baby,” and closed the door.

This is going to be a long three weeks.

The morning came and you woke up before your alarm and did your daily routine. The only difference was that your mother was going through your pantry looking for ingredients to make breakfast. “Morning, honey. Do you want some pancakes? I’ll make your favorites! It’s still blueberry, right?”

“No, that was Y/B/N. Mine are chocolate chip and peanut butter.” You said flatly as you grabbed your watering can. “Oh that’s right. But I already bought the blueberries.”

“That’s fine, they still taste good.” Your mother was satisfied with your response and started right away. You walked out to your front yard and watered your plants along the fence. The betony plants were beautiful, its sight was calming your nerves as you poured water over them. The sound of a door closing caused you to look up, watching Draco as he was standing in his yard with what seemed like a cigarette attached to his lips before he took it out and placed it onto an ashtray that was on his porch.

He walked over to the fence that separated your yards. The smell of the cigarette was in the air and it reminded you of your late father. “I meant it last night,” he mentioned his apology. You didn’t really know what to say so you just nodded and went back to watering your plants.

“But if I recall, you did start that fight,” he chuckled. You glared up at him for a few seconds before returning to your task. “Alright, I guess I’m sorry too.” Draco scoffed and just whispered ‘Whatever’ and walked away. “Wait,” you called for him before he walked back into his house and luckily, he stopped. “I’m sorry,” you said with sincerity. “Can we just start over?”

He stared at you, visibly contemplating your question then finally said, “Sure.” He walked into his house and you stood shocked in your yard. Your mother walked out and announced to you, “Honey! Breakfast is ready! Come on, I think your plants are watered enough.” With the snap of your screen door, you were released from your daze and walked inside. Maybe this week is turning around after all.

Draco sat in his room, not exactly sure what exactly happened. Was he really going to try and become friends with a muggle? He could imagine the look on his fathers face. Just because he had lost in the Battle, didn’t mean that he magically accepted muggles and muggle-borns. Narcissa didn’t like them much either but she also didn’t hate them as Lucius did.

This would shock not only his parents, but also his friends, Blaise and Theo. Merlin, the person that would probably have a field day about this would be Hermione Granger. He sat there, imagining Granger either laughing at him or cursing him after all the bullying he put her through. All those years of calling her a mudblood and he becomes friends with a muggle. A No-Maj. A Wiccan No-Maj. But then he thought about what Ian said at work. Y/N is really nice. Weird, but nice. And when he agreed to having a fresh start with you, he figured that it would give you a chance to prove him wrong about what you were like.

Or she could be exactly what I always thought muggles to be. Foolish.

—

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