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serenhob · 6 months ago

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(To preface I am physically disabled, being tested for autism and have several autistic friends who share their thoughts with me and I have been thinking about this for a weird amount of time so...enjoy I guess)

So abelism, while a lot of people may brush it off as something that doesn't really affect people or doesn't even exist at all it is a form of bigotry that has thrived since the dawn of humanity and continues to do so. It is also the most casual form of bigotry so much so that is literally ingrained in our soicety, covering a broad range of things such as language and architecture. It has even been the basis for racist and queerphobic redirect, not just itself.

To start, what is abelism? It contains a multitude of different things but is, to put it simply that idea that disabled people are lesser and in some cases even inhuman, this is not just seen in direct hatred and prejudice but can also be very covert by way of pity and infantilisation.

Most bigotry is structured like this wherein the hated group is looked down upon and not worthy of respect, for example racism, in it's many forms over the centuries, has always relied on the idea that white people are 'superior'. You can see this presented in many ways but I think one of the simplest was the changed perception of Neanderthals after it was discovered the percentage of Neanderthal dna in white people was significantly higher than in other ethnic groups, they went from incredibly stupid to surprisingly smart just to further push this narrative. Like racism and queerphobia, abelism has had a long history but I'm gonna touch on a few things that I find particularly egregious.

Language:

One of the surprising things you find when researching the English language (and I'm sure many others but I am sadly only fluent in one :()is the amount of insults that come from actual terms for disabled people (and women's anatomy which is weird). For example the word 'lame' now refers to something boring but it used to refer to someone who is unable to walk properly or without pain, using this definition it would apply to me but has come to be an insult. Intellectual disabilities are most under fire from this divergence from medical term to insult, both stupid and idiot used to refer to someone with an Intellectual disability but now are words a lot of people use in everyday speech.

The most recognisable word from this transition is the R-Slur as it, like idiot, used to also be a medical term but the way people were using it literally made medical professionals have to change the name. It really shows you how abelist the wolrd is to consider people were saying this with enough malice I literally can't use it in this post. Again, it was once a medical term and is now a slur. The discourse surrounding the word is so disturbing to me, I saw a man once saying its just a jokey thing to say to your mates but obviously you wouldn't call an actually disabled person that. Using it on non-disabled people doesn't make it OK, you're still using the term in a degrading way and furthering stigma around disabled people. It is worrying to see people going down a similair path in the increase of using Autistic in an insulting way, earlier this year people were saying 'acoustic' aswell to get around it (similair in the way people would use words similair to the r-slur and spelling out slurs (especially homophobic ones)in sentences by capitalising the first letters) and its really horrible imaging psychologists have to change the DSM because of something like that.

The way we also genrally refer to being disabled as the worst thing in the world and the amount of pity that goes along with that. Like I saw a video earlier wherein this woman was trying to spread positivity but the way she went about it kinda left a bad taste in my mouth, she was essentially saying that your insecurities mean you are blessed with the ability to have them, which is a nice sentiment but she used examples like be glad that you are insecure about your eye bags because that means you are blessed with the ability to see them. And be grateful for being insecure about your ankles (or smth I didn't really understand this bit) because it means you can walk. It feel very weird in the sense it reminds me of that one Laika studio movie where the moral is that sight is the basis of humanity. You tried but in a very 'poor sad disabled people, be glad you you them' way. To be clear I'm not annoyed with this woman specifically just pointing out how casual this seemed to be, not intended to be harmful but an ingrained sort of view that many seem to have. Disability isn't a good thing nor a bad thing, it is neutral like most things in life. And I for one would always prefer to be more positive about the thing that will effect me for the rest of my life.

Hereditism:

Hereditism is a theory put foward by scientists in about the 1800s that suggested that people biologically inherit traits from their family members. It has existed in part for years before (which is why we have hereditary monarchies, the suggestion that royal blood is needed to rule) but was only really given a name and dedication in the 1800s. It's fundamental principle is nature over nurture and thus bad people are born bad as a result of their parents. You can see how this would be much loved by bigots and especially racists. One of the biggest reasons that old white men put foward to say why black people were 'lesser' is that they were all intellectually disabled (lovely dose of abelism there) and their lives were worth less as a result because they would have no meaningful attribution to soicety except through labour (just to make clear these are beliefs other people held not me, racism is wack and so disturbing). And what was the integral tool in proving this, hereditism of course, if people inherit things from their parents that must mean that every single black person was the exact same (Idk how they could stand eachother, like imagine being that stupid). Hereditism was also used to argue why disabled people shouldn't be able to have children and be sterilised. Hereditism is the basis of eugenics (the theory that the human race can be breed to be perfect by murdering or sterilising the undesirables then inbreeding everyone else) which we all know Hitler famously used in his attempted genocide of the Jewish people, anyone queer, non-white people and of course those with disabilities.

Aspergers:

I find it grim to go over Hitlers entire thing surrounding disabled people so I'm going to focus on a small but disgusting part of it instead of the whole. Aspergers syndrome became a part of the DSM (diagnostic and statistic manual of mental health disorders) in 1994 and it remained a part of it until 2013 when people were revamping a plethora of neurological conditions that seemed to fall under the term Autism (or Austim spectrum disorder) and discovered the history behind the name. 'Aspergers' used to refer to a type of autism that was lesser support needs however, it was named for Hans Asperger who was a Nazi psychologist who was in charge of deciding which autistic children were to be euthanized. The ones he deemed suitable to live were genrally lacking in social skills but had a talent that made them 'worthy to be a productive member of soicety'. The children with higher support needs and had things like mutism were euthanized and thus the DSM deemed the name unsuitable as nobody wants to immortalise the name of a child murderer.

Autism speaks:

Autism speaks is a charity devoted to helping parents of autistic children and autistic children, though it focuses more on the former than latter. There a lot of problems with it which I will go down in a list.

1.Infantilisation of autism:

They are devoted to autistic children, autistic adults have no place with them, maybe due to the fact they can complain about how their image is used. It also adds to the stigma around autistic adults as people forget they exist. Getting support as an adult is also hindered as it may be unavailable or make work places hostile should they request them.

2. The focus on parents of autistic children:

They often pay more attention for how hard it is to function as a parent rather than the child's needs and help they do offer often just teaches masking rather than helpful behaviours/coping mechanisms.

3. The fact they didn't find taking a cure out of their mission statement until 2016, 11 years into the charity:

This seems as good a place as any to talk about 'the mystical cure'. For most people disability is incurable (myself included), and focus on trying to do this rather than helpful coping mechanisms and support is not good. It's neglectful and not helpful, i know it might seem optimistic but it's better to meet someone where they are at than ignoring them completely to focus entirely on something they may never get to.

4. I am autism:

Autism speaks frames autism as an infectious, deadly and terminal disease in an ad they broadcasted on live television in 2009. The full thing is on YouTube but here is a section of the transcript

{I am autism. I’m visible in your children, but if I can help it, I am invisible to you until it’s too late. I know where you live. And guess what? I live there too. I speak your language fluently. And with every voice I take away, I acquire yet another language. I work very quickly. I work faster than pediatric aids, cancer, and diabetes combined And if you’re happily married, I will make sure that your marriage fails. Your money will fall into my hands, and I will bankrupt you for my own self-gain. I don’t sleep, so I make sure you don’t either. I will make it virtually impossible for your family to easily attend a temple, birthday party, or public park without a struggle, without embarrassment, without pain. You have no cure for me. Your scientists don’t have the resources, and I relish their desperation. Your neighbors are happier to pretend that I don’t exist—of course, until it’s their child. I am autism. I have no interest in right or wrong. I derive great pleasure out of your loneliness. I will fight to take away your hope. I will plot to rob you of your children and your dreams. I will make sure that every day you wake up you will cry, wondering who will take care of my child after I die? And the truth is, I am still winning, and you are scared. And you should be. I am autism. You ignored me. That was a mistake.}

I don't think I have to explain why this is bad.

5. The documentary they did about autistic parents venting about their children: I am concerned with a particular section in which this woman calmly talks about the fact that everyday when she goes to drop her kids off at school she wants to drive them off a cliff to kill herself and her autistic daughter (who is in the room) and the only thing stopping her is that her other daughter is 'normal'. And they aired this on TV. The woman clearly needs some sort of help and maybe her children taken away from her because that is not normal or ok. This isn't even touching on behavioural therapy that still occurs in which therapists try to train autistic children to not stim in order to make them more palatable to genral soicety. A lot of abelism is presented this way, people trying to force disabled people to make their disability their own problem to not 'burden' anyone else with it. That us simply asking for accommodation is selfish. Which leads to the next one:

Architecture:

I hear all the time that the world 'isn't built for disabled people' but that is simply because soicety doesn't want it to be. We are improving, with tactile pavements and ramps and blue badges but it still isn't good enough. No old buildings older that 2010 are required to have disabled access meaning that a lot of disabled people are missing out on museums and other historical sights. It impacts people's lives terribly as if you can't access a building it means your job and education is limited. There are a lot of very old collages and universities where I live and there are some I cannot attend simply due to the fact nobody bothered to install a lift. Even in my old school there were classes were I would have to be alone in a room because there wasn't a lift in the building despite there being like 50 sets of stairs.

I believe this is all due to ignorance and refusal to spend money on disabled people. We make up around 16% of the global population, that is about 1 in 6 people. Yet the issue is ignored. There is more attention and accommodation afforded to billionares (who may I remind you make up less than 1% of the population so something isn't adding up). Infantilisation: Is to treat someone who is not a child, like one. It is done to disabled people very regularly. It's very creepy, I can't lie, my teachers used to do it and it just really disturbed me how they would literally use a different tone of voice in addition to acting like I was incompetent. It is not normally done out of malice but for some reason people don't know how to act around disabled people (I'm not gonna smack you with my cane or fall on the floor if you treat me like a person, just be normal), so they resort to assuming that we can't do anything. Or assuming our interests, dumbing down conversation, just genrally acting like disabled people are lesser. So, just remember, disabled people are people so treat them accordingly. To close off I'm just going to talk about abelism used in other forms of bigotry. I already talked about racism but again it was thought that black people all have intellectual disabilities which lessend their worth in the eyes of white able bodied people. Queer peoples identifies are often put down to mental illness (especially trans people) which makes people see it as something to be 'fixed' or 'corrected' which leads to conversion therapy similair to what I said with autism.

On a similair note neurodivergent people's queer identities are also seen as less valid simply because they are neurodivergent. Stigma around both is used in fear mongering for homophobes a lot. Autism and queer identity overlap a lot, as researchers believe that autistic people genrally care less about societal norms. Another strange thing some think about disabled people is that we are all completely aroace to use the idea that people who don't experience sexual or romantic love are inhuman to push that we are inhuman. This is untrue but also disabled people, like everyone else, can have a broad range of sexualities and gender identities (I'm ace but I'm also homoromantic (I am in love with Chappell Roan) whereas my friend is a lesbian and my other friend is straight (both these friends are autistic I'm not just adding this info randomly))

I just yapped a lot. Anyway thankyou for coming to my tedtalk

Also this is not touching on a lot of other severely messed up things because I am not educated enough on them and I don't want to spread misinformation <3

#Abelism #This is one of many random essays I spend hours researching #Societal and systematic abelism

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rrelationshipadvice · 1 year ago

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🩰 <- to find later. this is basically hs drama btw since we’re all about the same aged teenagers; warning for talk of abuse and ableism

how do i tell my friend (ill call her One) that the person everyone is friends with (ill call her Two) and also is her close friend is my ex-friend and was my bully? to explain, to tell her isn’t to point fingers or call out the person, it’s that i fear One will become a victim of Two and i don’t wish how Two treated me on anyone.

apologies for being semi-exhaustive here but Two pretty badly bullied me for just under ten years, as well as kinda physically abused me for four of those years (to the point i still have scars). im pretty sure it’s because i’m autistic and used to be unable to mask, since she’d regularly scream at me (like. voice going raw screaming) for being ‘slow/special/r slur-ed’ and constantly call me an ‘annoying fucking idiot’ (quote). the bullying also included telling people to exclude me, making fun of me in front of teachers or my parents, and calling my interests disgusting or embarrassing even when it was originally hers. again don’t want this to get too long but she would routinely torment me for showing typical autistic behavior by beating me up (ex: punching me in the stomach or trying to stomp on my stomach after shoving me to the ground, almost always slapped me very hard or would punch me in the breast) or screaming at me to basically correct me. she also groped and sexually harassed me a lot. plus she outed my other friend (who is autistic too) to the whole school and regularly fetishized the outed friend’s boyfriend trying to get them to break up. i blocked her everywhere and are now hostile to her irl in january of 2023 which im still relieved for doing despite my being a pushover LOL.

what sucks now is that Two is best friends with just about everyone in the entire school, esp. because we’re in the same extracurriculars which includes a large portion of the school. i normally try not to hold grudges but i’m an emotional and sort of indignant person so seeing literally everyone i know talk about how funny and sweet she is makes me feel violent. i want to tell someone how i have trust issues and get embarrassed being myself around people because of this girl but i feel like a) no one would believe me and 2) they’d probably gossip it off to someone and it would get exaggerated into like ‘she tried to kill the person posting this!!!!’ or some shit which i don’t want her to get painted as a bad person

i had this sentiment until i got closer with One. One is one of my closer friends and is diagnosed autistic, she’s a kind and considerate person who i feel like i can actually trust and don’t have to make myself mask around her. again like i mentioned im scared but also desperately wanting to tell someone Two treated me like trash. however One actively refuses to participate in people spreading rumors and shit talking because she’s been bullied before so that’s a big part of the trust. also with Two being autistic and One exclusively harassing and bullying only me and other autistic people in school, it’s scary thinking of Two doing anything to One.

my strife is that i just don’t know how to word ‘LOL you know your friend who’s buddies with everyone we know? she hated my autistic trans ass and hit me’ without it sounding like complaining or calling her out. One takes me seriously, hence the considerate comment, so i don’t think she’d just wave me off, but i’m not great with cohesion at times LOLL and like i mentioned earlier i don’t want who One considers her friend to be painted as a monster or smth!!!! thank you in advance for any help on this issue

#advice #relationship advice #friend advice

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rommahh · 4 years ago

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I Carry Your Heart

Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 4k

{Ahhhh ok so this is my first work like ever. There will definitely be a second part because ive got more to say and it needs a second part. I hope whoever sees and reads this imagine enjoys it. I appreciate comments, likes, reblogs, ideas on what could go into the story, and any form of help and redirection as to how i should write things. Much love, R.}.

Part two

All Y/N wanted tonight was to hang out with her boyfriend, eat a mass amount of junk food, and watch a marvel movie or two. That was all she wanted and that was all she asked of her boyfriend. Instead of any of that happening, she found herself sitting on the nasty kitchen island of her boyfriend's frat at a party that she was trying to avoid going to.

This party was supposedly ‘the party of the year.’ The last rager before finals and then christmas break. Y/N had spent the whole week studying and finishing up end of semester projects hence the want for a chill night. When Harry came to her saying his frat was throwing a party tonight and that he just HAD to be here, Y/N didn't feel like she had a choice but to let him go. She came because she thought this would be the only time she would be able to have some time with Harry after a long week of barely seeing each other. With two vastly different majors, the couple wasnt able to find a lot of time in the middle of school work to make time for just the two of them. Obviously her hopes of quality time with her man were futile because here she was sitting by herself in the kitchen of the frat while Harry drank and got high with his friends in other parts of the house.

Of course she was disappointed. She felt a knot in her throat and a weight on her chest just sitting there in that kitchen. Her white claw was warm now- not that it was any cold when she opened it. She was starting to form a small headache from the too loud music and the ache in her heart was growing.

She stood from the countertop on the search for her boyfriend, hoping he wasn't too far gone from sober. Wiping the back of her jeans from anything that was left on the island, she began walking around the house. She doesn't remember the last time the two of them spent time together by themselves. Of course they occasionally ate dinner together in the dining hall but they were normally surrounded by friends. Y/N wanted to be alone with her boyfriend to talk and bask in his presence.

After pushing through groups of partying humans, she found Harry and at least ten other people sitting around playing some sort of drinking game.

“Y/N! Where have you been?” Luca, one of Harry's frat brothers yelled out to her from the circle. Luca was cool, he was one of the only tolerable boys in this frat aside from Harry. Hearing his girlfriend's name, Harry turned around from where he sat on the ground and reached out for his girlfriend to sit beside him. Much to Y/N’s dismay, Harry was wasted. His eyes were half mass and his words bumped and slurred together. “We are playing truth or dare, wanna play?” Luca asked.

“I don't wanna play but Ill sit and watch.” Sitting next to her boyfriend, she grabbed one of his hands holding it in her lap. She was annoyed at him but it did her no good to show it when he was this drunk.

This game of truth or dare was childish. Dares of licking people's shoes and taking multiple shots had been done and truths about money and relationships were being spilled among the group. It had finally become Harry’s turn to do something, making Y/N tense.

“Ok Harry, I dare you to…” One drunk frat boy started looking around the room trying to come up with something clever. His eyes landed on a pretty girl in the room, Yara, a stuck up girl who for sure got her way no matter what. “I dare you to kiss the hottest girl in the room- obviously not your girlfriend because that defeats the purpose.” The frat boy smirked knowing what his intentions were. Everyone in the group giggles and gasped shocked by the dare but ready to see what was going to go down. Y/N’s brows furrowed as she became angry with the stupid dare.

The ache in her chest seemed to tip over the edge when she felt her boyfriend in the room move to stand up. She grabbed at the bottom of his shirt as a way of stopping him. Harry halted his movements to look down at his girlfriend. He giggled a little.

“You’re not actually going to do this right?” She asked Harry with wide eyes of shock. Harry laughed at her like she made a joke, making her heart hurt even more.”Harry I do not want you to do this just take the shot and lose the dare.” Her tone held warning.

“Don't be silly of course I'm going to. It's just a dare, nothing serious. Don't be so clingy.” He stood walking over to Yara and planted a wet kiss on her mouth. Yara gripped Harry’s shirt and kissed him harder. The kiss went on for a few more seconds, the room absolutely silent out of shock. Harry stepped back from Yara slightly sobering up from his actions. Yara smirked at Y/N, hand gliding down the front of Harry's shirt.

Y/N stood from the seat she was in and scoffed. Scoffed because she should've known Harry would do something like this. Scoffed because it hurt to see her boyfriend do something so careless without any regard for his girl's feelings. She pulled herself together, feeling her throat tighten once again. She was quick to leave the room and down the hall of the frat.

Harry's clumsy steps could be heard from behind her as he mumbled her name. Or at least he tried to. He was still so out of it, his words not making much sense. Y/N was crying now, the strength that she had slowly dissolving as she walked further away from her boyfriend.

“Y/N wait. P-please wait. I cant-” Harry stumbled over his legs behind her falling into the grass of the front yard. The girl couldn't help but turn around looking at her stupid boyfriend. She was choking on sobs now. She wasn't crying over a measly little kiss but over an extreme amount of burnout from school and exhaustion from simply existing. She was crying because her boyfriend ignored her boundaries, crushing and erasing the boundaries she had set in their relationship. Harry tried reaching for her once she had stopped walking. His hand clasped around her wrist, he laid his head down on her shoulder. He hated seeing her cry even if he was too drunk to see why.

“Baby don't leave, Im-Im Sorry.” He hiccuped and burped due to the alcohol. Y/N felt her rage build. Shoving Harry off of her, she crossed her arms across her chest as a way to shield herself from Harry physically. He was hurt by her distance and the wall she put up around her.

“You're an idiot Harry. An idiot!” her sobs grew louder, some stray party goers watching in amusement- some even snapchatting it for shits and giggles. “I didnt want you to kiss her and you did. What provoked you to think that was ok? All I wanted was for us to hang out tonight and just be us and you did this!” She was yelling now. Her hurt is beyond her now. Anger and rage simmered throughout her body making her head dizzy and her fingers curl within themselves. She didnt like being angry. It wasn't an emotion she liked acting on, it felt impersonal.

“Baby I don't under-” Before Harry could finish his sentence he was barfing at his feet. Y/N stepped back disgusted with her boyfriend. She couldn't even feel remorseful because of how angry she was. Luca, the frat brother from earlier, caught up with Harry and his girl only to find Harry doubled over heaving. Luca wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders.

“I'm sorry Luca but I can't do this tonight. Can you please make sure he gets some water and goes to bed. I-I can't do it tonight, I wish I could but I can't.” Y/N didn't want to leave her boyfriend in this state but she didn't deserve this. She wasn't going to care for her drunk boyfriend when all she wanted to do was care for herself. Selfishly, she enjoyed seeing him this way because of the anger he caused her.

Luca shook his head in understandment. “Of course, I'm really sorry for tonight. He's going to seriously regret this in the morning, especially since it will be circulating all over snapchat in the morning.” Luca waved to Y/N then proceeded to pull Harry into the house. Harry called out for Y/N not wanting to be away from her but Luca pulled him harder.

Harry woke up the next morning feeling like the bottom of a dumpster. He wasn't shocked by that. He knew he got trashed last night, he had planned to. He, just like Y/N, spent all week studying and completing projects while also fulfilling certain responsibilities for his frat. He wanted one night to be a normal teen. So he drank and drank and drank and maybe even smoked some weed. As he tried to recall last night's events he came up with nothing. He didn't understand why Y/N wasn't here with him like she normally would after a party on the weekend. They were normally always together during the weekend. A bad feeling loomed over him. He could tell something wasn't right but decided to put his feelings to the side.

He saw a bottle of water beside his bed making him think she was probably here and left early. Chugging the water he started to go through his socials to see if anyone had posted about the party. He had multiple tagged pics and videos in his notifications from snapchat. Way more than he normally would.

The first video he saw was a video of him and Y/N standing in the front yard of the frat house. Turning the volume all the way up he could hear Y/N yelling, it shocked him. She doesn't normally raise her voice, especially not at him. The angle changed showing her face which was red with anger, eyes filled with unshed tears. He could hear her yelling about him kissing someone else. He felt his heart stop. He had kissed someone else? On the next snap was a picture of him keeled over vomiting on his shoes with the caption saying, ‘are yall seeing this shit?’ Harry was embarrassed but he was more concerned than anything.

His head was hurting but it didn't stop him from rolling out of bed, washing up, and putting on a fresh set of clothes. He checked his phone hoping Y/N had messaged him but nothing was there. He walked into the kitchen only to see luca sitting at the counter eating cereal.

“Hey Harry….” Luca said warily. Luca pushed the cereal around his bowl feeling the tension begin to rise in the room. He felt horrible about his friends.

“Luca...what's up?” Harry was confused by Lucas' wariness.

“So do you remember anything about last night?” Luca asked, setting his cereal down in the sink behind him. Harry started playing with the frayed edges of a bracelet Y/N made for him. It had little beads with her name on it. They made them together at an event on campus.

“I don't, I only saw the videos of Y/N screaming at me. I think I fucked up but I- I don't know what happened.” Harry's cheek flushed with even more embarrassment. Luca awkwardly chuckled scratching the back of his neck.

“You got dared to kiss the hottest girl in the room and um actually did it in front of Y/N...even though she didn't want you to. Which led you guys outside and yeah you know the rest...Im sorry dude, I wish I had stopped you.”

“Who- who did I kiss?” Harrys stomach lurched when he heard Yara’s name come out of Lucas' name. Y/N didn't like Yara and it was understandable. Yara has been pining after Harry since their first year of college. Harry couldn't breathe. He felt disgusted with himself. He could only imagine how Y/N was feeling.

Y/N woke up the same morning, eyes puffy and crusty from tears and head hurting. She probably cried herself into dehydration. She was lucky enough to have no roommate because she wouldn't have wanted someone else to see her breakdown. She still couldn't believe last night went down the way it went down. She couldn't tell if she was just being overdramatic or if her emotions were in the right place. She didn't want to be mad at Harry. He was everything to her, she had an odd connection to him. Meeting him during their freshman welcome week they quickly became best friends with a growing romantic connection in the mix. They started dating before Christmas break. They had grown close so fast that he even came home with her to meet her family for the first few days of break. Even though they were in their junior year of college, Y/N could see them beyond college. She's imagined them getting married, travelling, sharing a home. She saw the whole future with him. She had her doubts though. He was immature just like every other boy in college. He was dumb with his actions and tended to only do things if they benefited him. He had a lot of growing to do as a person, so did she but she wanted to grow with him.

She heard a knock on her door hesitating to answer it because one, it could be Harry, and two, she looked like a wreck. Answering anyways, she was met with a very sorry looking Harry holding a small coffee and bagel from their cafe.

“Hi baby…” He sheepishly said holding out the items. She silently let him through the door not once looking him in the eye. He stepped into her room, setting her treats on her desk. He could see that her bed was messy meaning she recently woke up. Y/N never went about her day without making her bed. He turned back to her and finally their eyes met. He took in all of her facial features, from her puffy eyes, to her downturned lips that looked chapped, to her flushed cheeks that longed to be held for warmth. He hated to see her like this, the last time he saw her so upset was when her parents moved out of her childhood home. It took alot to make Y/N this upset. She was normally really headstrong and vigilant. She knew how to ease her way out of problematic situations and could talk her way through anything.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Y/N holding her hand up in front of his face. “Don't talk. I'm really hurt Harry, so if your plan was to come over here and apologize over bagels- think again.” She snapped, backing up to put space between the two of them. She sat down on her bed while Harry pulled the desk chair out and sat down. He much preferred to be on the bed with her holding her tight but he didn't want to overstep boundaries.

“Love, I don't know where to begin. I'm really sorry for what happened last night. I was really drunk and obviously wasn't in the right headspace.” Harry reached out and touched the tips of her fingers with his. She wanted to move but it felt good to be touched by Harry.

“I told you that a measly little apology won't do Harry. I didn't want you to kiss Yara and you did anyway. You know how Yara feels about you and you just let it happen!” She pulled her hand away remembering the prior night's events. Harry felt himself getting angry too. He felt like he needed to defend himself- even though it would be a very bad idea.

“I think you're being over dramatic.” Wrong move Harry. “It wasn't like I was making out with her!”

“You're joking right?” She scoffed and scooted further up her bed to create more distance. “Harry it's the simple fact that you did something that made me uncomfortable that shouldn't have even happened. I see myself getting married to you and it makes me worry that right now in our relationship you can't respect my boundaries!” She yelled. Harry’s eyes widened as he laughed sarcastically.

“Married? What the fuck are you on about? I'm a junior in college. In what world would it make sense for me to be prepping a relationship for marriage? Once again I think you're being over dramatic.” Her eyes watered hearing Harry's statement.

“I- I guess I'm the only one in this relationship thinking about the future? I thought we were on the same page. I'm not planning our marriage now, obviously. I'm thinking about how elements of our relationship now could play out in the future when we do want to get married. You cheated on me last night. I went to a party you begged ME to go to only to be there for you. I wanted to be here cuddling with you, pigging out on fast food but I was at a party with you and got cheated on!” Her volume rises once again, making Harry shove his chair from underneath him when he stands up.

“You're doing too much right now. I'm not planning a future right now because I don't want this future! I want to be myself without thinking about how to appease my girlfriend. I invited you to the party so you could lighten the fuck up. I love you, I do, but I'm not thinking of marriage and futures. I'm thinking about my life right now and having fun.” Harry snapped right back at her. Her chin wobbled. Obviously her and Harry were on different pages. It hurt so much to hear him say that he didn't want a future with her. Harry didn't mean it though.

“Ok, well I guess that's my fault for assuming we were thinking along the same lines. Um, I don't want to hold you back from being yourself so with that being said, you are a free man Harry.” She pushed herself up from her bed walking to the door ready to escort Harry out.

“Huh? Love, what?” Harry was confused on how they got to this point. Just a few days ago they were in love, meeting in the library to share a lunch and exchanging sweet words determined by their love.

“Listen I have a day full of exams tomorrow so if you could just leave that would be best. You don't really want this so I'm letting you go, Harry.” She had tears rolling down her face, falling from her eyes down to her chin where they fell to the ground in droplets. Harry’s eyes welled up watching his love cry before him.

“I don't-”

“Harry, leave, please.” She opened the door making room for him to go through. He walked through the door turning to look at her. She turned her face away from him whispering a small goodbye before shutting the door. Harry was left in the silent hallway, so silent he could hear his thoughts and the tears hitting the tile floor beneath him. He thinks he stood there for at least thirty more minutes before accepting what had happened and walking away.

Leaving Y/N in her room sobbing like she had never done before. Her tears coated her face and she thought her head could explode right then and there. She didn't want to accept what had happened but she had priorities. She composed herself enough to start studying for her exams.

The week rolled by quickly, Monday meeting Friday in a flash. Exams were done and Christmas break was on the horizon. Students were piling off of campus in a hurry ready to get home to their loved ones. People were outside by cars loading up their winter necessaries and saying their goodbyes to their close friends.

Harry cried everyday this week. He wasn't normally a crier. He hated crying, he hated the feeling of crying and the headache that came from it. He cried because he realized how wrong he was. He missed Y/N. He missed finals week dinner together where they tried to get off campus at least once and be alone for a moment. He missed watching her relax while eating food that wasn't from their school's cafeteria. He would pay for their meal just so she could have one less thing to worry about. They would normally get frozen yogurt right after too, Y/N getting as many toppings as she wanted because Harry would be the one paying. He missed her tight after exam hugs. She would squeeze his shoulders tight, smiling into his neck, telling him how proud she was of him. She would bring him tea in the morning when they met for breakfast. Sometimes they would spend the night in one or the others room so they could have time together to destress and just talk.

Y/N wasn't doing any better. She normally went into exam week feeling confident. She studied too hard not to. But this week she felt like shit. Her heart hurt and she kept thinking about the fight. She feels like she overreacted but hearing Harry talk about their lack of a future hurt nonetheless. She really assumed that they did have a future that included marriage and a life together. She didn't understand where his sudden lack of commitment came from. She regretted dumping him but at the same time she wished he did more to get them back together but he was silent. He hasn't contacted her at all and avoided all of their spots on campus all together.

She stood by her car prepping for her six hours car ride back home. Packing away her clothes and some essentials in the trunk of her car, she heard light footsteps behind her. Closing her trunk she turned to see Harry standing with his hands in his pockets.

“Hi.” He said. She looked at him, putting her own hands in her pockets. It was cold outside, the nippy air hinting at a possibility of snow.

“Hi Harry.” They shared a moment of silence together. Just staring at each other. It felt good to be near each other again. They felt like they could breathe again.

“I had to see you before you left. I know the break is only a month but I didn't want to leave without seeing you.” He replied quietly. She made him feel so shy. Her beauty always made him awestruck. Even in a hoodie with their college's logo and some large sweatpants and some fuzzy crocs, she was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“I don't know what to say harry.”

“It's ok. I don't deserve anything from you after what I said. I just wanted to apologize and wish you a good break before you left. I also wanted to give you this.” He pulled a small box and envelope out of the front pocket of his backpack. “I know we agreed on no presents but I think thats a dumb rule and I love you too much to not get you something.” She smiled at his words, taking the gift from his hands.

“Thank you Harry, it means a lot to me. So what are your plans for a break?” She asked him, the tension that was in the air slowly dissipating.

“I couldn't get a flight home until next wednesday so i'll stay here on campus until then.” He shrugged.

“Oh ok. Well tell Anne I said hi. I have to go Harry but I'll see you after the break, ok?” She didn't want to leave him but she didn't want to drive through the dark.

“Ok, love. Drive safe. I lov- I mean have a good break.” Her chest tightened at his hesitation. She wants to hear him say the words but she knows he won't.

“Have a good break Harry.” She whispered. Before getting in her car she stood on her toes placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Rubbing her thumb across his cheek and turning away and into her car.

She drove away knowing that her heart was left in that parking lot in the hands of someone she loves way too much.

Harry stood in the parking lot watching his heart drive away for winter wanting nothing more than to be with her.

Part two

#harry styles x reader #frat!harry #i carry your heart #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #college!harry #part 2 coming soon #harry styles smut #fratrry #boyfriend!harry

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witch-hattery · 1 year ago

Note

Any talk about the history of the "r-slur" is incomplete without noting that it was originally invented to be the compassionate and professional alternative to words like "idiot" and "moron."

This is called the "euphemism treadmill" and there's a widespread misunderstanding about how it works.

People think that the r-word became bad because people started using it in a derogatory way, but it couldn't really become a bad word, especially not as negatively charged as it currently is, unless someone came up with a new "good" word to replace the old one.

So I think a lot more criticism needs to be directed at people who decide to come up with new words, because it creates something akin to planned obsolescence in terminology.

Those academic documents from the 50s wouldn't be so offensive based on one word if it weren't for some person coming up with a new term to make themselves look superior.

Are you an advocate for censorship?

is this because i said not to use the r slur

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alexaplaysgames · 4 years ago

Text

Request: “Could you write something in which the mc is starting to develop feelings for Felix but denies them constantly/tries not to confess or accept them as a reality because they fear what would follow if and when they happen to go back to earth later...?”

Here you are! I literally have to fight myself to keep from making every dramatic moment occur at sunset on a grassy plain. This time, I lost. Sorry for the wait, I’ve hated my writing recently. Thought I don’t love this, either, I hope you enjoy it :) I changed to first person for this cause my brain is Like That.

Title: Did you Really Mean it?

Pairing: Felix Escellun x GN!MC (Last Legacy)

Words: 2484

Tags: @demon-paradise @themohawkhelmet @cactus-hoodie @aomiyeon @piningmaybeanartist @another-confused-gay @uselessbeanies @nomnomcupcakesworld @druwuuwu @frozen-daydream @kirakiratears @margitartist @crowtrinkets @fanfic-about-fictif Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed.

The first time, he had been quick to dismiss it.

Felix had asked for your help reaching one of the taller shelves of the library. He claimed he needed access to one of the books, strictly for academic purposes, of course, but you’d judged by the sight of his rosy cheeks that he more so just wanted you to touch him.

Nonetheless, you had risen from your comfortable position on the sofa and accompanied him without complaint, teasing him all the while about his short stature. When you’d pinched his flushed cheek, he’d rolled his eyes with a groan, hoping you didn’t see the goosebumps that had spread across his skin at your touch.

Standing in front of the shelves, you’d wrapped your arms around his waist. This seemed most sensible, rather than vice versa, given how he knew which book to look for. You’d felt Felix’s breath leave him in a rush as your arms slid around him, his ribs contract as he exhaled. He’d shivered as your fingers brushed the bare skin near his hips where his shirt had ridden up.

Yet, he had leaned back into you as if he didn’t want you to let him go. You swallowed. That is what made this so difficult, you thought. You didn’t want to let him go, either. You simply knew that you would have to.

It was surprisingly effortless to lift him to reach one of the dust-covered titles a few shelves above your heads. As Felix had pulled the book off the shelf, a thick layer of dust had been dislodged with it. He’d sneezed, and the force of it made you stumble.

You’d fallen back onto the cushy carpet below with a gasp, Felix landing slightly on top of you with a startled yelp.

“Ouch,” you’d mumbled, rubbing your head, and then burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

“S-sorry,” Felix stammered. He looked quite abashed. You’d only shaken your head with a fond sigh and reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear.

Felix’s breath had hitched at that, his eyes going saucer wide. You dropped your hand as if he’d burnt you. Only now did you realize how close your faces were. You could count every one of his eyelashes, this close, feel the heat of his breath. His gaze briefly flitted towards your parted lips, laden with desire.

“We should get up, now.” Your smile had turned a little tense, which Felix noticed. You’d looked as if you wanted to push him off.

He winced. “R-right. Yes, of course.”

When you’d stood and parted ways, he couldn’t help but feel the slight sting of rejection. He clutched the book to his chest as he watched you walk away.

Perhaps he was over-thinking things.

✦✧✦✧

The next time, however, he was certain something was wrong.

You’d been quite clearly avoiding him as of late, skirting around his company with flimsily construed excuses that you were much too busy to see him.

Felix didn’t mind. Being on his own was something he’d grown to find familiar, if not enjoyable. He told himself that it was reasonable for you to wish to spend some time apart from him, and while a part of him believed that, another part wondered why he wasn’t good enough to hold your attention.

You used to adore him. He could still feel your fingers in his hair, your hands on his skin. At what point did he begin to bore you? Had all your comments of accepting him for who he was served only to pacify his childish, moody self? Did you mean none of it at all?

It certainly felt that way.

Then, one evening, you’d told him you were going out to a tavern with Sage. Though you’d invited him to join you, he’d declined, partially due to his being a lightweight, but also the fact that he wasn’t certain whether you truly wished to see him at all.

Yet, hours later, when you still hadn’t returned, Felix’s stomach churned with worry. He was torn between going to you and offering you the space you so clearly craved.

With a sigh, he’d wrapped a cloak around his shoulders and set off to find you. He simply wanted to make sure you were alright, that was all. It needn’t be more complicated than that.

You were seated in a booth in one of the local establishments, Sage at your side. He could smell the alcohol on your breath the moment you drew near. “Felix, my sweet!” you’d laughed as you saw him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Felix frowned at the pet name. He’d almost forgotten that you used to calm him that.

He had closed his eyes at your touch, melted into the familiar warmth of it. Then you’d frozen, looked up at him with cloudy eyes, and proclaimed that you were leaving.

Felix blinked at you in astonishment. “What?”

You had offered him no reply.

Felix had followed you as you stumbled slightly out the doors and into the darkened streets. He himself had often taken to midnight walks through the city, knowing that he had the means to protect himself. You, however, had no such training.

You’d tripped over your feet as you walked, intoxicated, through the cobblestone streets. Felix grabbed you elbow and spun you to face him.

“Stop this- this tomfoolery,” he gasped. “You’re going to maim yourself!”

“Leave me be, Felix,” you’d pouted, your words dangerously slurred. “I can’t- I don’t want to see you right now.”

Felix’s breath caught; your words sunk through his skin and settled as an ache in his chest. Yet, before he could say anything in reply, you stumbled again. He pulled you against his side to keep you from falling over, slinging one of your arms over his thin shoulders.

Felix is many things, but strong is not one of them- you nearly broke his slight frame with your weight, and he panted while he struggled to hold you. Nonetheless, he managed to guide you through the streets to the nearest inn, conscious of your breath by his ear all the while.

You’d flopped down onto the worn sheets of the bed Felix rented, your hair haloed around your head. The young necromancer’s heart hurt as he watched you, until you’d grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the bed at your side.

“Kiss me,” you begged, the heady scent of brandy curling around the words, and conflict waged war across Felix’s delicate features. “Kiss me, Felix, this might be the last time you get the chance.”

Felix’s grey eyes welled with tears. “I- I can’t,” he choked, feverishly shaking his head against the sheets. Oh, he had wanted to, you knew it even through your haze. You saw how his eyes once more drew towards your lips before he tore them away.

“Then go,” you said simply, rolling away from him and onto your side.

And he had.

Felix wrapped his arms around himself as he walked home through the streets alone.

✦✧✦✧

The third time hurt the most.

“Are you two officially together, now?” Anisa had asked you one evening, and Felix had waited for your response with bated breath, tucked outside the doorway where he knew you couldn’t see him.

Until it finally came, and he wished he hadn’t.

“No.” You said it with such finality, such certainty, he was sure you could hear his heart breaking, the sound of his panicked breaths. “Felix and I… I don’t think we’re a good fit.”

That was it, the final straw. He choked on a sob as he turned away, already feeling the hot rush of tears spilling from behind his closed eyelids.

He had curled up in his study, face tucked into the worn couch, and cried into his elbows, cursing his own stupidly all the while. His tears soaked through the strands of his hair, ran down his face in rivulets, dripping off his chin.

He was so delirious at that point that he allowed Stella to curl up next to him, even stroking his fingers through her soft, silky fur.

“W-why am I like this, Stella?” Felix mumbled, still sniffling around the remnants of his sobs. “It was idiotic of m-me, to think-” Felix flopped onto his back, wiping at his eyes. Then he groaned. “Goddess, and now here I am, conversing with you. A rather pitiful display.”

Stella, as expected, did not offer a reply, though her rumbling purr provided some comfort.

Felix stared up at the ceiling until morning light streamed in through the windows, caught in a miserable state. He is accustomed to being alone- after all, his wasn’t the first time he had his heart broken by someone he was sure he was in love with.

This was the only time, however, that it cut him this deeply. Never had he felt such hurt before, not even in death. In fact, he was certain he preferred that dull, empty nothingness to this.

He sighed, tiredly letting his eyes flutter shut. Stella’s fur tickled his nose, and he whispered, “How you’ve ruined me, my dear barista.”

✦✧✦✧

Things were strained between the two of you from then on. Felix wouldn’t meet your eyes whenever you were near each other. You could tell, by the redness of his eyes, that he had been crying, though for what reason you couldn’t be sure.

He kept his distance, and you chastised yourself for missing him. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? But you suddenly weren’t so certain. You stomach was slowly twisting into knots of guilt and longing.

You sat with Felix, sifting through more textbooks in an attempt to find a hint as to how to send you home. It served as a reminder, somewhat, as to why you had pushed him away, though as time passed the memory became fainter. You were instead focused on how Felix kept his eyes trained downwards, not once making a characteristically snide or snarky remark.

The silence and the tension stretched between the two of you until it snapped like a frayed string.

“Why?” Felix suddenly asked you, gasped it out as if it pained him. You’d met his eyes, though he still wouldn’t meet yours, his hands squeezed into fists in his lap.

“Why what?”

“Why did you turn me away?” he continued, his lower lip quivering. “I had hoped-” he trailed off, as if he couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” Felix finished a moment later with a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “You deserve much better than m-me, of course. I was selfish to think otherwise.”

“Felix-”

But Felix was no longer listening, having slammed his textbooks shut and left your side with tears swimming in his stormy eyes, muttering under his breath about how stupid he had been, desperate to keep you from seeing what a mess he’d become.

You felt awful. You’d been so determined to quell the growth of your relationship that you’d disregarded Felix’s rather fragile sense of self worth. You’d absolutely crushed him, you thought regretfully, and for what? Perhaps what was between you couldn’t last, but you should’ve been grateful for the time with him you were given.

Hours passed. You’d searched the rest of the day for Felix, but you couldn’t find him. Not in his bedroom, his study, the library, not with Sage or Anisa- your necromancer had mysteriously vanished.

Until you’d remembered one evening when he showed you one of his favourite places- a grassy hillside overlooking the sprawling city underneath. With the sun sinking over the horizon, you’d found him there, chin resting on his knees, pulled up to his chest. The wind whipped through his dark hair, cooling the streaks of tears on his reddened face.

Felix looked back over his shoulder at your sudden appearance through one of his trademark portals, then buried his face in his arms with a low groan.

“Felix, listen to me,” you whispered. Coming to sit beside him in the long grass, you gently wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into your side. You could feel him hiccup, feel him tremble against you.

You settled your chin on his shoulder as the both of you looked out over the world that had once been so foreign to you. The wind once more rippled through the sea of grass around you, the sun reflecting off each individual strand. As the sunlight slowly waned into a single strip, it touched the tips of the buildings below and lit them up like candles.

“I am so, so sorry, baby,” you said, “for making you feel that way. I was worried it would hurt, when I have to leave. I thought I was doing us both a favour by keeping us apart. You did nothing wrong, Felix, and you weren’t selfish.” You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the dying sun warm your face. “I was.”

“You weren’t-” came Felix’s muffled reply, quick to defend you as always. You shook your head, kissing the curve of his shoulder.

“I was. I thought it would be best for both of us, but I was wrong. I missed you so much, you know. Every day, I always wanted to see you. But I didn’t, and I told myself that was for the best. It was stupid. I hurt us both.”

Felix exhaled. You could feel the tension melt off him in little waves as his shoulders slumped. “You will have to leave, one day,” he murmured. “It was only logical.”

“Then we’ll face that when it comes, okay?”

Felix sighed, closing his eyes, then leaned into you and settled his head on your shoulder. “Okay.” That one word was still rather wobbly, as if he didn’t believe you. His chest rattled with each of his shaky, uneven breaths.

“Now, let me see you smile.”

You suspected you were pushing your luck with that, and your assumption had been proven correct when Felix rolled his eyes and sent you a rather unimpressed look. “No. That’s ridiculous,” he huffed. “I’m not an infant.”

You simply resorted to other means of achieving what you sought. Felix squeaked as you shifted to the side and rolled him onto your lap, laying down in the long grass in a similar position as you had in the library, long ago. This time, however, when his eyes went wide above you, you shot up and kissed him, merely a chaste peck on his plush lower lip.

His blush was more brilliant than the setting sun behind him, a bright, fiery red you couldn’t believe you ever thought to abandon. Though he groaned and stubbornly averted his eyes, Felix couldn’t help but smile- a mere quirk of his lips that was faint enough to miss.

And yet, it was good enough for you.

#Felix Escellun #Felix x MC #felix iskandar escellun #Last Legacy #Fictif #Fictif Last Legacy #Last Legacy Fanfiction #Fictif Felix #Last Legacy Felix #Sage Lesath #Anisa Anka #alexa writes #alexa plays last legacy #interactive games #rime varela #fictif sage #Felix Escellun X MC

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klowhispers · 4 years ago

Text

Sam had just walked out of the shower when he saw the date, and he hummed happily. He had forgotten it was the 1st of June today.

Dean looked up from his laptop' screen where he was looking for some case, and frowned.

"Why're you smilin'?" he asked.

Sam turned away from the cheap calandar that was already there when they arrived at the motel and shrugged, avoiding his brother's eyes.

"For nothin'."

Dean made a sceptical noise.

"C'mon. Spill. " but Sam stayed silent. "Sammyyy, c'mooooon."

Sam rolled his eyes, and decided to say something, just to make Dean shut up.

"It's June."

Dean went still for a couple seconds, looking at him like he'd just grown a second head and then said slowly :"Yeah..... it is... did you just learn the different months of the year or something?"

Sam scoffed. "Of course not, idiot!"

Dean threw his hands in the air, dramatically :"So what's so special about June that makes you smile?!"

Sam, feeling irritated by his brother constant questioning, said without thinking : "It's pride month, that's why, you dumbass!" He turned away and started to search for a book in his school bag that was on his bed, determined to ignore his brother.

But then almost a whole minute passed in silence, without Dean saying anything, so Sam turned back around, facing his brother, his heartbeat starting to get accelerate.

Dean was staring at him, a look of concentration on his face. His brother wasn't stupid, he was surely starting to understand some things : Sam never went out with any girls and was never interested in them, always making disgusted noises when Dean talk about the stuff he did with them. And now he basically admitted that he was happy it was pride month. Dean was going to understand, and Sam hadn't meant to say that, not like that not right now.

"Hey, Sam. Sammy."

Sam took a sharp breath, realizing he was about to have a panic attack and that he needed to keep breathing and calm the fuck down. He looked back up to his brother, who was still sitting on the chair, near the window in front of his laptop.

"You... You're one of the... I mean. You're part of the... The pride?"

It was so unlikely Dean to stutter and hesitate when talking that it took a few second for Sam to understand what he'd asked. He was also surprised Dean hadn't say any slurs. But Dean continued to talk before he could answer.

"I mean it's cool. Like it's fine. No judgment. If you are I mean. If you're not it's okay too."

There was an awkward pause, and Sam was really trying not to laugh. Or cry. He wasn't sure. He decided to say something, Dean was starting to look real uncomfortable.

"Hum. Yeah. Thanks, I guess. I... I'm not totally sure, though? I don't really have a label right now, but I'm probably not into girls."

His brother nodded, and so did he.

Dean cleared his throat and then said : "Well,... Don't forget to use protection alright? No matter the gender. Hey, I can look it up for ya if you want? I can find you some videos and all...."

"Ew! Dean, no! Stop talking!"

Dean started to laugh and tapped on the keyboard of his laptop, saying the words outloud as he wrote them : "Gay..... Po...r.. n."

"Dean! Stop!"

#brothers #<3 #my writing #kloswritting #my fic #pride month #lgbt sam winchester #dean winchester #supportive dean winchester #weechester #idk where this came from #here read it #supernatural fic #coming out #comedy? i mean i tried

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sweetaesuga · 5 years ago

Text

in your heart | his fridays

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre: fluff, angst(?), established relationship, fratboy jk, ex-fuckboy jk, bookworm reader!

warnings: language, implied drinking, these two are crackheads basically

word count: 1.1k

synopsis: your fridays without jungkook.

timeline: takes place after the events of in your eyes.

↳ masterlist

a/n: my posts aren’t showing up under the tags :(((( so sorry for posting this many times. i tried linking a card of current issues going but it’ll hide this🥺

Something doesn't feel right.

It's surely the empty seat besides you where your boyfriend would usually reside but not today. He decided to go to a party his fraternity was throwing. He deemed you would hate him if he was to go to one ever since you started dating which is why he hadn't gone to one in so long. Jungkook even took you out for dinner.

The whole night consisted of him being sweet to you, way too sweet. Not a jokingly insult was hurled your way how you two normally act towards one another. He took the chance to ask you if he could attend the party.

The question struck you a bit. You didn't want him asking you permission to go somewhere, you never wanted to be that couple. You didn't want to eventually become the girlfriend who hogged all of his attention. You just wished he wouldn't bail out on you all the time like he used to. You assured him that he didn't have to ask you permission to go to such places yet he still felt awkward.

Jungkook💓: are u sure about this??

Jungkook💓: i can always not go u know

Jungkook💓: if ur not ok with it

sugar mama🥺: I'm fine with it!!!

sugar mama🥺: Go have fun just don't do anything stupid without me

Jungkook💓: ok i luv u

His response threw you off. You've only been dating for two months and none of you have ever told each other you love one another. You don't dwell too much on the topic, simply brushing it off as Jungkook just being excited and he didn't genuinely mean it.

You sat on your couch, searching through Hulu. You contemplated whether or not to watch Rick and Morty, the show you two watch together. Knowing your boyfriend, he would whine about you watching it without him. You exited and scrolled through Netflix. Your attention was divided, one on the movie you were watching and the other on Jungkook's text. In the end you selected a random movie, choosing to just have it as background noise to swallow the silence in the room that was normally filled with Jungkook and you.

You explored through your Instagram. Reloading your page again, your heart stopped. Taehyung had uploaded a picture. He was taking up most of the picture but Jungkook is still seen in the edge, grinning like an idiot with a bottle of beer in his hand. The others are a blur.

You felt guilty for going ease from the sight of no girl nearby. You were still insecure despite his comfort.

You liked the picture, reading the caption before going on to the explore page. You find yourself looking at memes, sending the funniest ones to Jungkook. You didn't care that you sent him twenty-two messages and he'll probably respond the next morning as long as he sent you twenty-two texts back instead of a singular response.

It's around one in the morning when you receive a thread of messages from your boyfriend coming all at once. You were half awake, body threatening to enter slumber. You frowned with squinted eyes when your phone screen shined. Tiredly, you unlocked your phone.

Jungkook💓: hiiiiiiiii

Jungkook💓: i miss u i'm sorry for not being there with u

Jungkook💓: forgive me🥺🥺

Jungkook💓: i think i'm drunk but not really

Jungkook💓: thank fuck autocorrect gets me cuz i'm like typing the wrong shir rn

Jungkook💓: i'm in my bed rn :((((

Jungkook💓: n i miss u so much like

Jungkook💓: so so sos osos osos odiosos much

Jungkook💓: wtf my keyboard just wrote that

Jungkook💓: is that spanish???

sugar mama🥺: Idk

sugar mama🥺: R u ok???

sugar mama🥺: How much did u have to drink??

Jungkook💓: idk they just kept common u know??

Jungkook💓: fuckhdn i meant comming*

Jungkook💓: wait but like did u mist me too🥺🦆🥺

sugar mama🥺: Ofc i did🙄

sugar mama🥺: Now go to bed ur gonna feel like shit in the morning

jungkook💓: bet

jungkook💓: IMG_3725.JPG

jungkook💓: dont my toes look prettyyyyukjd

sugar mama🥺: Stop we said we weren't into this feet shit n go to mf bed

Jungkook💓: ooooooo someone's mad that i got prettyer feet than them😌

Before you can reply to him, his name flashed over your phone screen. You swiped across the screen, bringing your phone up to your ear. You regret doing so as Jungkook screamed into the phone that he has more beautiful feet than you which you can not deny. There's a hiccup before he continued. "I'm like so fucking drunk right now. I miss you so much, I wish you came," his speech is a little slurred but you don't mind. "But I know you hate being surrounded by a lot of people, claustrophobic bitch."

You laughed into the speaker. Jungkook enjoyed every second of it. "You know what? At least I'm not afraid of a microwave."

You heard him gasp on the other line. "Microwaves have the potential to blow up and shit! Why the hell are you afraid of a spider that's not even half your size?" Jungkook shook his head, remembering how last week you forced him to kill a spider in the corner of the room. He tried to convince you to leave it alone but you weren't having it.

"They're fucking spiders! Almost everyone in the world is afraid of them even your mom!" he stayed silent for a second. Right when he was ready to defend himself he suddenly realized his mother does have a fear of spiders. "Aww, cat got your tongue, bubba?"

Jungkook giggled, laying out on his bed. An empty spot next to him where your body would occupy it. He doesn't say anything else, choosing to listen to your breathing. You call out his name, wondering if he dozed off. Jungkook hummed into the speaker. "I think I'm going to have to cut this short and go to bed. I love you," he smiled only to be met with silence. His cheeks burned in embarrassment and he was ready to open his mouth and drunkenly take everything back.

"Goodnight, don't think you're going to remember in the morning but I love you too," your voice was quiet. It almost drove Jungkook to tears from how small you sounded, almost as if scared to confess to him.

He hung up first, falling asleep quickly despite being disturbed by the void place besides him. You don't fall asleep right after. In fact, you don't sleep the whole night. Your mind too focused on your conversation.

Jungkook💓: HOLY SHIT HOW MUCH DID I DRINK

#jungkook scenario #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts angst #bts drabble #jungkook drabble #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bts fanfic #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #fratboy jungkook

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abraxos-is-toothless · 5 years ago

Note

prompt: saw their phone number graffitied on a toilet stall for rowaelin? 😏😏

Ask and ye shall receive. (You were meant to have this ages ago, but to do long asks for fics I have to actually write it on tumblr now, so I’m rewriting people’s prompts. It won’t let me copy and paste.)

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Rowan groaned at the sound of his phone ringing.

It was a Friday night and he, Lorcan, Fenrys and Connall were all sat around his dorm room coffee table, getting ready for their weekly game night. They’d all been doing this since they were kids, right through high school and now into college. People thought they were being silly and childish but it was just what they did. All of them were on the football team in school, girls wanting them for their popularity and how they looked, and then being disgusted when they found out what the boys did on Friday nights, instead of going to parties.

Tonight’s game was monopoly and they were all just choosing their pieces when Rowan answered. It was an unknown number, because everyone they knew, knew not to call on game nights. “Uh, hello?” There was some giggling on the other end and then a few hiccups before he received an answer in a very feminine voice.

“Hi there.” The mystery woman laughed again before she made a shushing sound, which he assumed was for her, considering he hadn’t spoken back yet. Finding it way too funny and thinking it was just a case of the wrong number, Rowan put his phone on speaker, placing it down for the others to hear.

“I think you might have the wrong number.” Lorcan raised a brow and the other three went silent when there was yet more giggling.

“Oh no, I just found your number in the men’s room at the club.” Oh for fucks sake. Lorcan smirked, clearly remembering that night he wrote Rowan’s number in the bathroom, hoping weird men would keep calling him for hook-ups.

“Wait, why are you in the men’s room?”

“I lost my friends somewhere and there was a guy that kept following me. The ladies line was too long, so now I’m hiding in here.” Fenrys was frowning more and more the longer the woman on the phone talked. “I found your number on the wall and I thought, ‘why not?’ but I was also hoping for help. That guy I mentioned is really creepy and forward. I don’t want to go back out there.” Now that was worrying. Rowan was just about to tell her it would be alright, but Fenrys spoke first.

“Aelin? Is that you?” He knew mystery girl?

There was a gasp from the phone, “Fen? Does the dude whose number this is, does he have me on speaker?”

“Sorry Ace. But what were you saying about a guy?”

“Um, he kept trying to hand me drinks, quite forcefully. I think he put something in it but I didn’t drink it. I can’t find the others. I’m scared.” Oh dear gods. Fenrys was about to reply but Rowan didn’t let him.

“Aelin? My name’s Rowan and we’re going to come and get you okay? Don’t move.”

He could hear her let out a shaky breath. “Okay. Will you hurry, please?” Rowan let her know that they’d be there as fast as they could before hanging up. The others stood grabbing their jackets and slipping on their shoes. Connall grabbed the keys to his car.

“I’m not drinking so I’ll drive us.”

When they were all in the car Rowan leaned forward in the backseat, nudging Fenrys’ shoulder. “How do you know this girl?”

“I met her cousin, Aedion, in class the other week. She was waiting for him outside one day and she clapped me over the head when I asked if they were dating. Her tiny dark haired friend, Elide, couldn’t stop cackling.”

“Wait, Elide?” Rowan and Fenrys both swivelled to face Lorcan, both raising a brow at him.

“Yeah Elide, how do you know her?”

“I uh, I asked her on a date about a week ago. We’re going out tomorrow. You mean we’re on our way to help her bitch friend? That Aelin?” This just kept getting better and better. However, Rowan didn’t like that ‘bitch’ comment for some reason. She seemed lovely on the phone.

“You may think her a bitch Lorcan, but would you honestly leave her there for that creep to find?” He said it with a little heat in his voice. Lorcan just shook his head.

“Of course not, and if he’s there when we get to her, I’m going to teach him a lesson or two.”

Good, they could do it together.

oOoOo

Rowan and Fenrys were the ones to go into the club when they got there, heading straight for the men’s room. He still remembered the night Lorcan wrote his number on the wall, laughing as he did it saying, maybe someone will take that stick out of your ass, and replace it with their own. Rowan had smacked over the back of the head after, even though he too was laughing from all of the alcohol. All of his friends had somehow decided he was gay, because all of his dates never made it past the first. It was simply because he just didn’t think he and those women were compatible. Some of them never even asked about him, they just went on and on about themselves, or some didn’t appear to have a mind of their own. Always switching their opinions to what he liked and being overly affectionate way too early. So he stopped dating, hoping that one day, he find the right girl without trying. Maybe he’d meet her in a coffee shop, or in line at a movie.

Or maybe saving her from a creepy guy at a club, his mind unhelpfully provided him.

There were many drunken men and women stumbling about the place, pushing up against him constantly. He narrowly avoided some girl vomiting on his fucking feet just as they made it to the toilet door. Fenrys entered first, Rowan just behind him and they were met with the sound of shouting and a quiet sobbing. A man was stood outside one of the stalls, banging his fists against it saying, “Come on lass, you can’t hide from me forever.” The man’s voice was slurred and he looked as though he was a few seconds away from kicking the door down. There was another whimper from inside the stall and Rowan called out, “Aelin? Is that you? It’s Rowan.”

“Please, please, please get him out!” Rowan saw red at how scared she sounded, turning towards the extremely drunk idiot. Fenrys jumped in before him and grabbed the man’s shirt in both fists, slamming him against the wall with all of the force he could manage.

“Fuck off! She’s fine, she’s with me.”

Fenrys laughed without humour. “Yeah, she’s just pleading for help because you’re so nice. Who the fuck do you think you are, attacking women like this.”

The man scoffed, trying and failing, to push Fenrys off of him. “She’s been begging for it all night, now she’s just being a little bitch.” Rowan’s friend pulled back and punched him, watched him sputter and groan for a few moments before slamming him against the wall again. He took that moment to gently tap on the stall door.

“Aelin, you can come out now. It’s alright.” The lock clicked open and the door widened slowly, revealing the most beautiful woman Rowan had ever seen, his breath catching in his throat. Her hair was long and almost golden in the lights, her eyes were a blue with gold flecks, and he could get lost in them forever. All of the feelings he couldn’t quite place, soon morphed back into anger when he noticed her trembling bottom lip and mascara running down her cheeks from where she’d been crying.

“R-rowan?” She whispered it and all he could do was nod. Aelin threw herself at him, burying her head in his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. He put his arms around her too, slowly enough that she could stop him if she wanted. He could tell she was crying again from the way her body shook in his arms. Rowan rubbed a hand up and down her back, leaning in to mumble soothing words in her ears. Fenrys turned to look at them, eyes narrowing when he saw the state his friend was in. He looked up and met Rowan’s gaze.

“Take her out to the car. We’ll take her back to yours for the night.” Rowan didn’t know how much of a good idea that was, considering Aelin didn’t really know them that well, but he didn’t want to let her go for some reason. The circumstances were horrible yes, but she just felt so right in his arms, fit so perfectly. He nodded at Fenrys, pulling on Aelin to lead her out of the room, turning his head back when his friend called out again, just as he reached the door. “Oh and Rowan?”

“Yeah Fen?”

“Send Lorcan in, would you?”

Oh, with pleasure.

oOoOo

On the drive back to Rowan’s dorm, Aelin stayed with him in the back, along with Fenrys who had swapped with Lorcan. It was about fifteen maybe twenty minutes after Rowan had got Aelin outside when the two finally came out of the club, both with very damaged knuckles. He didn’t ask much but apparently the guy had a bunch of drugs on him, all in small tablets that dissolved in drinks. Rowan didn’t need to know anymore than that to know what the man was planning to do. Aelin had refused to sit up so she was laying with her head on Rowan’s lap, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes. Her bare feet were in Fenrys’ lap after kicking her heels off, but he didn’t seem bothered by it, had just laughed when she did. Rowan didn’t like the little pang in his chest at their interactions.

There was a tap to his nose before a finger started trailing the lines of his face. He only raised a brow at Aelin but didn’t tell her to stop. She moved one of his hands in to her hair and bent his fingers a little and he chuckled, taking that to mean she wanted him to play with it. Just as his fingers started running through the soft curls, scratching at her scalp, Aelin said with a small groan, “You’re very pretty. You have pretty eyes, they’re so green.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup,” she made a little popping sound on the ‘p’, “and very pouty lips. Very kissable. And gods your hair.” Lorcan made a gagging sound from the passenger seat and Aelin smirked, obviously knowing what she was doing. Rowan leaned down so he could whisper in her ear.

“Your lips look very kissable too, Aelin.” She giggled as he leaned back.

“Tell me when I’m sober and I just might let you kiss them.” She winked at him and Rowan couldn’t help but smile widely at her.

“I don’t just randomly kiss girls you know,” her face dropped slightly so he continued, “I like to at least take them to coffee first.” Her grin came back in full force, lashes fluttering against her cheek when his fingers tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Rowan bopped her nose just as she had done to him.

“You better.”

---------

Should be able to give you the rest of your prompts but slowly, as I said they all have to be rewritten:))

Tags: @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @lila-baard @empress-sei @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @tswaney17 @queen-of-glass @thesirenwashere @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm @http-itsrebecca @eatmysandwiches @poisonous00 @flowersinvegas @julemmaes @mu-si-ca-l @spyofthenightcourt @sis-it-dont-add-up @mad-madeline-ace @df3ndyr @jesstargaryenqueen @notyournymphetish @carbconnoisseur @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @superspiritfestival @alyx801 @silentquartz @tillyrubes10 @nightcourtcinnamonroll @acourtofmarauders @rhyswhitethorn @booknerdproblems @acourtofbookworms @lucy617 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @mis-lil-red @eleonor-da-silva

#aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #fenrys moonbeam #lorcan salvaterre #aelin x rowan #rowaelin #rowaelin fic #tog #throne of glass #throne of glass series #my writing #haz writes #my fic #tog fanfic #prompts

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bi-bard · 4 years ago

Text

You’re Better Than This- Roman Sionis Imagine (Birds of Prey)

Title: You’re Better Than This

Pairing: Roman Sionis X Reader

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 2,025 words

Warning(s): Depictions of violence, manipulation

Summary: Everything was in order and relatively logical... until a drunk Harley Quinn stumbled into the picture. After that, everything was a mess and (Y/n) started asking a lot of questions that had never really been raised before.

Author’s Note: Hey! I’m just letting you, I may be posting a little bit less. I’m trying to apply to college and scholarships, so everything is a little hectic. Thank you for understanding.

Buy me a coffee? https://ko-fi.com/khoward0

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I jumped when I heard a loud scream over the music of the club. I had been in this scene for a while but there wasn’t usually a lot of violence in the club. Roman tended to keep a close eye on that.

I looked up to see Roman already walking over to where the scream came from. There were men helping Roman’s driver out and Harley Quinn was casually lounging on the sofa in his place. I walked over quickly, wanting to know everything I could.

“Where is that little partner of yours,” was the first thing I heard out of Harley’s mouth when I walked over. “Oh, hiya, (Y/n).”

“Hey Harley,” I grinned. Roman stood up straight and looked at me. “So, what’s going on here?”

“Nothing, dear, driver’s mistake,” he shrugged. I raised an eyebrow.

“He called me a slut,” Harley added, waving a hand at me. I nodded.

“Well, our apologies then,” I said. Roman had turned around and told Victor to find him a new driver. “Enjoy your evening, Ms. Quinn. I’m sorry again.”

“Aww, it’s alright, sweetheart,” she promised.

Roman nodded his head before placing a hand on my back and gently leading me towards the bar. He stopped for a moment and turned to the still silent crowd.

“What’s a party without a little drama,” he shouted happily. “Play the music!”

The party was immediately back on track. I waited until Roman and I were both at the bar before I held a hand over my mouth and laughed quietly.

“She really is something else,” I said. Roman tilted his head at me. “Your driver was an ass, Roman, I told you that. I had my money on this happening eventually.”

“I should’ve trusted your intuition,” he replied before kissing the side of my head. “I have a brief meeting to go to. Are you going to be alright on your own?”

“Of course I am,” I nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Don’t leave the bar without Victor and keep an eye open. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t get hurt,” I promised. “Now go do your business thing so I can have an evening with you.”

He nodded before walking off. I turned to the bartender and asked for a water. The drinks here were fine but I was already tired tonight. Roman insisted that I went. I was quietly giggling at the people dancing when I saw Dinah walked over to the bar. She sat down next to me.

“Hey, you sounded amazing tonight,” I complimented. “If I had your voice, I’d never stop singing.”

“Thanks,” she replied awkwardly.

“You want some food,” I asked. “I can get us something really fancy... or just junk food. Whichever you prefer.”

She chuckled at me. I think Dinah knew that I meant well. I wasn’t trying to manipulate her. I just wanted her to be happy... or as happy as possible.

“I’m alright but we should try-”

Dinah was cut off by Harley running into her shoulder. I sighed and looked down.

“Singer-lady-woman,” Harley shouted. I chuckled at her, sending Dinah an apologetic look.

Dinah traded a few half-hearted responses with Harley before just kind of ignoring her. Harley slid even closer to her.

“Do you know what a harlequin is,” Harley slurred.

“A janky ass clown with bad eye make-up,” Dinah asked sarcastically. I covered my mouth to hold in the embarrassingly loud laugh that I almost let out.

“Ooo, ouch,” Harley said. “A harlequin’s role is to serve. An audience. Her master. A harlequin is nothing without her master. And no one gives two fucks who we are beyond that.”

I was gonna roll my eyes and ignore her when I spotted Roman. He was chatting with a couple of women at one of the tables. I bit my lip and turned around.

“I don’t know who you think I am, lady, but I’m not her,” Dinah replied.

I stood up and waved at Victor, who was standing off to the side of Roman. I pointed towards the penthouse and he nodded, understanding what I meant. The last thing I heard before I was out of earshot was Harley saying that she and the Joker broke up.

--Time Skip--

“Roman,” I called as I quickly walked into the room.

“What is it,” he snapped at me. My shoulders tensed and I tilted my head at him.

“I had something interesting for you,” I explained.

“One moment, we’re discussing the crossbow killer,” he held a hand up to me. I sighed, rolling my eyes at him.

“Roman,” I said after another minute of his senseless rambling. “Roman... Roman!”

“What,” he yelled back. He grabbed my upper arms. “What’s so important?”

“Harley and the Joker are done,” I replied. “I heard it from her.”

“Really,” he asked softly. His grip loosened on my arms and I nodded. “Oh, this is brilliant.”

“It’s open season on Harley and she called it on herself,” I chuckled.

Roman’s hands moved to the side of my face, squeezing a little bit harder than I was okay with but I didn’t question it, “I love you, you know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” I mumbled. He kissed me gently before turning to Victor.

“Go get her, would you?”

“Yes boss,” Victor nodded his head before leaving the room.

“God, I owe you a ring,” Roman said, throwing his arms out to the sides.

“I’ve been saying that for months,” I shrugged. “You’ve bought me enough gifts for a lifetime, Romie.”

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped quickly before shaking his head and smiling again. “I’ll continue giving you presents for as long as I can... and I promise the next one will be a ring.”

“Oh, I’m so going to hold you to that,” I laughed before hugging him tightly.

--Time Skip--

I scooted as close to the opposite door as I could as Roman shoved the kid into the backseat. I saw something fall out of her pocket. A grenade. I leaned down and stashed it in my pocket as Roman was getting the door shut.

“Where are we going,” I asked as Roman told the driver to go.

“An old dock,” he replied. “It’s close and it’ll be easy to dispose of the kid.”

“Roman, she’s a child,” I said through gritted teeth. “Why would you-”

“She swallowed the diamond.”

“That doesn’t-”

“One more word and I will shove you out of the car.”

I bit my tongue and looked through the back window just in time to see the car behind us crash. I placed a hand over my mouth.

“Harley and the Crossbow Killer,” I said simply. “Gaining!”

“Drive faster,” Roman snapped at the driver.

I watched Harley fling herself onto the trunk of the car.

“Shoot her,” Roman told the man in the front passenger seat. The man leaned out the window and started shooting as we got closer to the docks.

I looked at the kid, who just looked back at me in fear. She was just a small pickpocket. I was too... years ago. She didn’t mean to get wrapped up in this. She stumbled into it by mistake. I gave her an apologetic look before turning back towards the front of the car.

I quickly covered my head, bending over as Cassandra grabbed Roman’s gun, trying to save Harley. There was a reason I told Roman to give me a gun and he always refused. What an idiot.

The door next to me opened and Harley went over me to punch Roman. Why exactly did she not grab me?

“Uh-oh,” she mumbled, diving away from the door.

I looked forward and panicked. As if it was an instinct, I pulled Cassandra over, hoping to protect her from the inevitable car crash. Roman leaned into the front of the car, steering us away. We still hit a statue at the entrance of the pier but it was better than death.

“Let’s go,” Roman snapped, pulling Cassandra from my arms and onto the pier.

I followed quickly, now confused and scared and secretly hoping that Harley would get here. I didn’t want this young girl’s blood on my hands.

Roman dragged the girl over to the edge of the pier between two of the statues. I hide around the one next to him. I heard Roman’s speech echoing from all ends of the pier. Something about Harley not being able to stand on her own two feet. I could hear Harley’s monologue, jumping when a gunshot hit a statue.

“Hey,” I shouted when I heard the gun cock again. “Harley, just put the gun down.”

“Out of bullets anyway,” Harley admitted quietly.

“That was super embarrassing,” Roman said through a laugh.

“Sure was,” she shrugged.

“You think you can beat me,” he asked. “You’re a fucking moron.”

“I’m sorry kid,” she looked at Cassandra. “I’m sorry that I tried to sell you. That was a dick move. For what it’s worth, you made me want to be a less terrible person.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Roman shrugged off her little speech.

“(Y/n),” Roman stopped when Harley said my name. “Are you really okay with this? You and I both know that you’ve never liked the killing. You just accepted it because you thought Roman was what you wanted. Can’t you see? You’re Roman’s harlequin! You don’t want this girl’s blood on your hands. You just wanted love and acceptance and Roman made you think he was the only one who was going to give you that. Well, it’s bullshit! Stop him now and you’re your own person. You’re better than this.”

“I don’t have time for this crap-”

“Roman, wait,” I snapped. His eyes widened at me.

I walked over and I cupped the side of his face. He grinned at me, moving the blade from Cassandra’s throat so he could carefully touch my arm. I smiled back, tears building in my eyes.

“Roman,” I mumbled. He raised his eyebrows and hummed as a sign that he was listening. I slowly and carefully moved my other arm, making sure his attention was still on my face. “You forgot the ring.”

“I get the ring as soon as we’re done here,” he promised.

“You don’t have to,” I shook my head, stepping back a little before holding up the ring of the grenade. “I already got one.”

In Roman’s moment of panic, I pulled Cassandra back with me. I hugged her tightly, mumbling “I’m sorry” more times than I could count. Harley obviously noticed what happened back her next move was to basically chuck Roman over the edge of the pier. I closed my eyes as I heard the grenade go off behind me before stepping back from hugging Cassandra.

“Thank you,” Harley said as the other women helping her walked over to us.

“Thank you,” I replied. “I guess I just needed someone to say what I’d been thinking.”

“So, what’s next for you,” Dinah asked as we all started walking away.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I have a criminal empire that thinks I watched the love of my life die. Roman gave the order that I was in charge if something ever happened. They’re probably waiting for my call. Or...,” I looked over at the cop that was with us, “I could turn in the entire operation and get a hefty reward.”

“I’d wait,” the cop advised. “Your life may end up on the line if you turn everyone in.”

“We’ll be here to help you,” Dinah promised. “I’ll even sing at the club.”

“Oh, I’ve gotta redesign that,” I chuckled. “You guys want to redo a bar?”

“Do we get free drinks,” Harley asked.

“I’ll give you two free drinks,” I said. She giggled and hugged me tightly. “Thank you so much, Harley.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied. “You’re better than him. You’re the boss now.”

I smiled and nodded. I glanced back at the pier for a moment. I was in control now. Everything was my call... and I was going to do a far better job than the man before me.

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Masterlist

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folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

#roman sionis imagine #roman sionis fanfiction #birds of prey imagine #birds of prey fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction #dc imagine #dc fanfiction

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tailorvizsla · 5 years ago

Note

“Just let me see (her/him/them) one last time. Please.” with Paz 🥺

Title: Home Is In Your Arms Pairing: Paz x F Reader Word Count: ~4k Rating: R Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Reader is an ex-Storm Trooper and was not treated well, some attempts at medical jargon, Paz is injured, a hint of angst, and vanilla sex. Author’s Notes: A request from the lovely, wonderful @huliabitch that was supposed to be a one-shot but evolved into this entire-ass fic because I sort of like this concept? There’s a lot of buildup and not a lot of angst, but just a hint. I really hope you don’t mind! [Holy crap, I copied the wrong list of tags for this. I took those extra names off as soon as I realized it. I’m not sure if I got it quickly enough, though. If you got a note, I am really sorry. Forgive me, please.]

📚 My Master List 📚 If you want to send in a prompt (or just talk to me lol), feel free to peruse the list here!

The gunshot wound to his side is like a singular point of white-hot fire, a blinding supernova of agony as he stumbles against the crumbling remains of the blown-out grocery store. Blood burbles up through his lips and sprays against the inside screen of his visor, streaking crimson as it drips out through the bottom of his helmet. Paz sinks down between two of the shelves, fingers trembling as he tries to staunch the blood rapidly seeping into his kute. Paz gasps as his backside touches the ground, jarring the agonizing pain shooting up his side. His head swims nauseatingly as he struggles to get each gasp of air into his aching lungs.

Fuck, he thinks to himself. Really got in over my head today.

He had a bounty to pick up – a simple bounty for someone skipping on bail – and he had almost gotten them. Then the troopers had shown up with two AT-STs and a TIE-fighter. His head suddenly feels both heavy and empty, and he thinks about his family. His home. Paz lets his head fall back against a stone pillar, blackness starting to seep in at the edges of his eyesight.

Just let me see them one last time. Please.

The last thing he sees as his head bobs down toward his chest are a pair of white boots approaching him.

The EMP blast triggers a minor explosion that knocks you off your feet. Collapsing into the remains of the store, you try to regain your bearings. It takes you several minutes to realize that your collar is no longer buzzing. You toss your weapon down and yank your helmet off, pulling at the band digging into your neck. It does not budge. You swear quietly to yourself.

You remove your breast plate and abdominal armor and drop it on the ground. They will not protect you much from Mandalorian weapons. You’d rather die in your undersuit than in the Empire’s armor. The vambraces follow, falling to the dusty, cracked concrete with a clatter. Glancing around the shop, you find that you are in some sort of supply store. Hopefully, there will be a knife here you can borrow.

As you pass by a display, you pick up a bag and loop it over your chest. Then you go to ransack the shelve for food and medical supplies. There isn’t much here, but it will be enough to tide you over until you can find someplace safe.

When you round the corner, you see a massive pile of blue armor in the corner. You freeze. This is the Mandalorian who had taken out half the buckets on your squad by himself. Many of them had been collared like you. Others were blind followers of the Empire. Despite this, you hold no bitterness against him.

Rather, you find yourself in terrified awe of him.

You get as close to him as you dare and crouch, poking his pauldron. He doesn’t budge. Glancing down at his side, you notice the wound on his side. Shit, he has lost a lot of blood. Chewing on your lower lip, you begin digging through your bag of pilfered supplies. You have some basic first aid training, so you get to work on getting him back onto his feet. When you’ve packed the wound and sealed it with a mass of tape, you start to rifle through his pockets to see what medical supplies he might be carrying. He has a single dose of the really good bacta, the stuff that’ll get a corpse back onto its feet for a few minutes. The stuff that cannon fodder like you would never be given.

For a moment, you stare down at the tiny bottle in your hand, watching as the dose of medicine swishes around inside. You want to take it, but you decide against it. This warrior deserves better than to bleed out in a damn grocery store.

You stab him in the patch of skin you can see. Then you grab his vibroblade and start sawing at the band around your throat, cursing violently as the blade just barely begins to chew through it. You are so engrossed in the task at hand that you do not hear the soft inhalation from behind you. Or the near-silent growl. A rough hand grabs you by the shirt and pulls up. The other hand wraps itself around your neck and you go very still, teetering on your tiptoes to avoid being choked to death.

“Who the fuck are you?” comes a low, deadly voice in your ear.

“The idiot who decided to help you?” you choke out.

“Why the hell would an Imp help a Mandalorian?”

“F-figured would be the right thing to do,” you gasp out. “Borrowed you-your knife – “

“Did you want me on my feet to try and kill me?” he hisses at you. “Did you think I’d be an easy target?”

Your heart rate spikes as his hand tightens around your throat. You cough in response, pulling at his forearm to try and breathe. He doesn’t budge.

“Collar – cut it off – let me – let me die free, please – “

The arm around your neck loosens slightly. Blood rushes back into your head and your knees wobble. His other hand comes up and you inhale, closing your eyes, expecting him to snap your neck. Instead, he examines your collar.

“Interesting,” he says.

Then he yanks his blade from your hand and puts it back where you had borrowed it.

“If I let you go, will you attack me?”

“Not suicidal,” you gasp out.

“Smart girl,” he rumbles out.

He lets go. You stagger a bit, wheezing as you suck down some air to your oxygen-starved lungs. You turn to look at him. Upright, he’s even bigger than you thought. He towers over you by no small amount, nearly twice your size. You swallow tightly, feeling quite exposed without your armor.

Not that it would have protected you much if he decided to take a swing at you. Tripping and falling would crack that cheap plasteel shit. He stumbles and you just barely catch him around the middle. A grunt escapes you at just how damn heavy he is.

“If I help you out of here, will you take this damn thing off me?” you ask him.

“Sure, why not?” he slurs.

“Where to?” you ask.

“East,” he says.

“Are we waiting for anybody?”

“No,” he manages to say. “Just me.”

You stare at him incredulously.

“You are responsible for all this?” you hiss, gesturing at the mayhem outside.

He throws his head back and laughs. It takes nearly two hours to walk the half-mile back to his ship. At some point, you debate on asking him if he’d be willing to ditch the armor, but you decide against it. That amount of beskar is probably worth a small fortune. It takes you a minute to spot his ship, cleverly hidden under a rocky overhang and a large camouflage tarp.

The ramp opens and you carry him up the ramp. There, you drag him as far as you can before he collapses. You grab the tarp and drag it inside to keep it from getting sucked into the intake vents. You shut the door before you start looking for a med kit. You find it in the galley, just above the sink. Then you hurtle back to the Mandalorian and inject him with another dose of the good stuff. Then you check his wound. Miraculously, the bleeding seems to have stopped.

From there, there is little you can do but wait, so you cover his chest with a blanket and climb into the cockpit. It only takes a few minutes to get the ship into the air and away from the battlefield.

You aren’t quite sure when you fell asleep, but when a hand clamps down on your shoulder, your neck is sore, and you have drooled on yourself. You look up. Big Blue is looming over you.

“The fuck are you doing?” he growls.

You blink the sleep out of your eyes. Then it all comes back in a rush. Shit.

“I didn’t know where you wanted to go,” you stutter out. “So I put her in a random hyperspace lane. I think.”

“Move,” he snarls.

You quickly get out of his way and he sits down. You retreat into the copilot’s chair, where you sit in silence for several minutes. He makes several course adjustments before you dare to speak up.

“Can I use your refresher, please?” you ask.

Be polite and he may not just toss you out the back. He growls. You take that as a yes. You head down the ladder and into the refresher you had seen. You relieve yourself. Then you eye the tiny washing machine stuffed in the corner. You stare down at your stained undersuit.

It’s filthy.

You’re filthy.

Gnawing on your lower lip, you peer over at the ladder. You asked for the refresher, not the toilet. And the washing machine is in the refresher. So it’s fair game?

Swiftly, before you can porg out like a coward, you shuck the suit and your underthings off, stuffing it all into the washing machine. Then you jump into the shower and begin cleaning up quickly. You untie your hair and work the worst of the knots in your braid out with your fingers. Then you steal some soap and start scrubbing the layers of blood, dirt, and grime off your body.

The water is cold, but it is glorious to be able to shower for more than two minutes at a time. When you are finished, you hop out and grab a towel. You can just barely wrap it around yourself, and it does little to cover your curves. You are just moving your things into the dryer when you hear your Mandalorian’s footsteps stomping toward the door.

“It’s been twenty minutes,” he snarls.

You open the door, putting your hands up.

“I asked to borrow your refresher,” you say. “I borrowed it. Nothing more.”

He freezes, his dark visor tilted down at you.

“Uh,” he stutters out. “Uhm – “

“It looks like it’ll be a little bit before everything is finished drying,” you tell him. “Then I’ll find a corner to sit in. I promise I won’t do anything stupid.”

“Uh, yeah,” he stammers. “Get dressed. I will be in the cockpit.”

He turns on his heel and goes back to the ladder in a hurry. You frown after him. What a weirdo. It takes another thirty minutes for the dryer to finish extracting the moisture from your clothing. You put it all back on and head up to the cockpit. He turns to look at you.

“You stay on that cushion,” he says, pointing at a chair. “Are we clear?”

“Aye, captain,” you say, sitting down in the copilot’s chair.

He disappears down the narrow corridor. You peer after him, snooping shamelessly. You catch a glimpse of a big bed and a gun case before the door swishes shut after him. You turn your attention back to the dizzying array of blue lights passing by in the windows. Boredom sets in quickly. You glance at the door. Then at the cushion under you.

A stupid thought seizes you. You’re hungry. He’s probably famished. Big Blue is your commanding officer now. So, he gets to eat first. Then, if he allows it, you get to eat your own ration. You push the thoughts away. This isn’t the Empire - he may not care if you eat at all.

But still. He’s your commanding officer now. And he’s been injured.

You give the cushion a tug and it pulls away from the seat, revealing the attachment points. You climb down the ladder, the cushion under one arm. Then you go dig around in the galley for something to snack on. Setting the cushion on the ground, you take your place on it, and start sifting through the packages of freeze-dried food.

“WOMAN - !” your Mandalorian bellows.

You nearly leap into the air. He drops down the ladder and lands with a jarring thud. He comes stomping into the galley, where you have put what appears to be a ration pack on the counter to heat. He glowers down at you.

“What. Did. I. Tell. You.”

“You said I couldn’t leave the cushion,” you say. “But you need to eat – “

“I can feed myself,” he hissed. “I gave you a direct order – “

You pat the cushion under your ass.

“You need to eat,” you repeat. “Your blood sugar is probably tanked by now. And concentrated bacta does weird things to your sodium levels. You need to eat, sir.”

He inhales sharply to yell, but he cuts himself off, pressing his face to his hand. You can almost see the steam curling from under his helmet.

“Do not call me sir. Get your ass to the cockpit. NOW. Before I snap your fucking neck and throw you out the airlock.”

You grab the bread roll and stuff it into your mouth. Then you grab the cushion and climb back up the ladder, hastily replacing it where it belongs. By the time he gets back to you, you’ve devoured the bread, and you are licking the crumbs off your fingertips.

“Don’t get smart with me,” he snaps.

You tilt your head up at him questioningly and decide to not argue.

“Let me see your collar,” he says grouchily.

You flip your hair forward. Big Blue grabs the collar. This time, he far gentler as he starts messing with it. You stay quiet, hoping that it will come off. Then you feel something cold slip between it and your neck. Then it pinches and the collar falls away. You stare down at it, turning it over and over.

“I’m free,” you whisper. You look up at him. “I’m free.”

“Looks like it,” he says. “Where are you from?”

You shake your head.

“I don’t know.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m at least twenty-four,” you say. “That’s all I know.”

He turns to look at you.

“Any fodders who survive to their twenty-fourth get the dubious pleasure of being shortlisted for officer training,” you say quietly, bitterly as you look out the window. “I think my training started last year at some point.”

“How do you not remember?” he asks impatiently.

“They don’t want to damage our nervous systems with repeated shocking,” you say, looking down at the collar in your hands. “They sometimes drugged us if they suspected we were thinking too much.”

He doesn’t respond. You exhale. Then you chortle.

“Are you looking to hire backup? I’m a fair shot,” you say wryly. “I ask for two meals a day and a corner to sleep in.”

“You think I’d pay you that much?” he retorts. “You Imps are all terrible shots.”

“By the time someone gets put on frontline duty, their fine motor controls are fried,” you say nonchalantly, swinging your foot back and forth. You hold up your hand, watching as your fingers tremble minutely.

“A lieutenant made a pass at me and I turned him down. He didn’t like that,” you say nonchalantly. “He refused to take no for an answer, so I broke his nose.”

“You were tortured for defending yourself?” he asks, his voice suddenly quiet.

You tilt your head up at him questioningly.

“Oh, no. Gideon had him killed for making a pass at me. Mingling between officers and fodders is forbidden,” you say, shaking your head. “I got my date with the electrical socket because I missed cleaning up his blood. Some of it got on Gideon’s boot."

You wrap your arms around your knee and stare out at the lights flashing by. He doesn’t respond for a long time.

“Two meals and a corner?” he asks.

“That’s my best offer,” you respond. “If you let me have a blanket, I can negotiate down to one meal a day.”

“Bread?” he counters.

“Warm,” you return easily. “With butter. And I still want a blanket.”

“You look at me wrong and I will toss you straight out through the airlock. You understand?”

You nod, relief filling you.

Two Years Later

You nudge Paz with your elbow and tilt your head toward the gorgeous redhead at the bar.

“How about her?” you ask. “Go ask her for her comm number.”

“No,” Paz says for the twelfth time that night. “I told you, I have a different type.”

“I can’t help you find a nice lady if you won’t tell me what your type is,” you say to Paz. “You have turned down literally every person I have suggested. You do still like ladies, right?”

He sighs in exasperation.

“I don’t do the temporary thing,” he says at long last.

“So you want the whole nine parsecs, yes?” you ask. “A nice courtship, marriage, and a herd of little blue brats? Maybe a loth-cat?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Or as close as I can get to it. I’m not going to find that person in a bar.”

You sigh dejectedly.

“Why do you care?” he asks, tilting his helmet down at you.

“Well, I certainly am not going to get laid,” you say. “Might as well play the role of backup and keep helping you out.”

He huffs in amusement.

“I have my eyes on someone closer to me,” he says quietly.

“Oh?” you ask, perking up. “Is it – oh, who was that – sauce girl? The one who dumped a pot of sauce all over – “

“No,” Paz says, his head turning to yours sharply. “No, you di’kut. That was my kriffing cousin.”

“Well, fuck,” you say. “She’s the only woman I’ve seen you spend any amount of time with.”

“Much closer,” he continues in an odd tone.

“…are you hiding your lady friends from me?” you ask, narrowing your eyes up at him. “What, are you afraid I’ll tell them about your stupid ideas when you get wasted? How dare you.”

He harrumphs grumpily.

“Take mercy on the poor man,” a drunken voice slurs. “He means you, daft girl.”

A sharp jolt of surprise fills you as you look up at Paz. He grimaces and refuses to look at you as he sips his drink down. The drunk person laughs and sloshes their way to an empty booth, where they collapse onto the cushion and start snoring. You give Paz an appraising look.

“So, do you wanna fuck me, or do you want the whole nine parsecs?” you ask, tilting your head up at him.

“Uh…both?” he says.

Without hesitating, you slam a handful of credits on the bar to pay for your drink. Then you finish the last sip.

“Let’s go,” you tell him.

“Where?” he asks.

“Ship,” you say. “I haven’t been fucked in years.”

“Well, maybe we should discuss – “

“Blue,” you say patiently. “There is nothing to discuss. My answer is yes.”

You hear his sharp inhalation from here.

“Now. If you don’t start moving, I’ll just borrow the bartender’s can opener,” you say saucily to him. “I’ll get that codpiece off, one way or another.”

Paz puts his drink down and adds his own money to the pile. It takes far too long to get back to the ship. Once the ramp is closed behind him, you start shucking your clothes off. When you’re completely naked, you start helping Paz remove his armor, dropping it onto the table. Then he removes his padding and undersuit, revealing a thick, muscular frame to you. Then the lights turn off and you hear another thunk. A thrill runs through you when you realize his helmet is off.

“Bed?” you ask, hoping he’ll say yes to a tumble on that decadent bed of his.

“Bed,” he confirms.

You make it up the ladder in record time, opening the bedroom door. Paz follows after you, not bothering to shut the door, as he hurtles onto the bed after you. He throws you down onto your back, mouth crashing onto yours, one hand groping at your hip and the other supporting the majority of his weight. You pull at Paz’s hair, digging your nails into his scalp as you kiss him back, wrapping your legs snugly around his waist. It’s sloppy and a bit rushed, but you do not care.

He tastes like the cheap fruit alcohol he had been drinking and like himself, vaguely sweet and metallic. You nip at his lower lip, a little rougher than you intended, earning a growl from him. He grinds his length against you and you gasp sharply. You’re already soaking wet and ready for Paz as he slides his hand between your bodies. His fingers press inward. You tear your mouth away from his and moan, lifting your hips against his hand.

“Yes,” you hiss at him. “Paz, more!”

He nibbles his way along your neck and down to your shoulder, the wet sounds of his fingers working inside of you barely audible over your moans. Frustrated, you hook one leg behind his, the other on the bed for leverage. You kiss Paz back, forcing your tongue into his mouth, relishing in his noise of surprise. You push against his shoulder at the same time and you just barely get him onto his back.

“Not sure what you think you’re doin’,” he manages to say as you settle on his hips.

“Shut up,” you tell him, as you position his generously sized cock under you.

Your eyes roll back as you start to take him in slow, short thrusts. He’s a lot bigger than you had expected, but you are no coward – you have never shied away from a challenge. Just when you think you can’t take any more of his hard, thick length, your clit presses down against his pubic bone, and a victorious thrill runs through you.

You can feel him throbbing deep inside of you just shy of discomfort. As you catch your breath, Paz shifts impatiently, a groan escaping him.

“Move, move – “ he urges around his pants. “Baby, please.”

Resting your weight on his lower belly, you start a slow pace, grinding slow circles, relishing in each rich moan you can get from your lover. One hand finds your hip, the other your breast. He pinches down on your nipple and you mewl at the sharp burst of pleasure.

“Fuck,” he stutters out. “Feel so-so fuckin’ good, baby.”

You change your pace, swiveling your hips in tight circles, arching your back so he can get in nice and deep with each thrust. Paz gasps, a tremor running through his body as you take him that extra half-inch.

“Shit,” he says, his voice catching just a hair, “Oh fuck, don’t – don’t know what I did to deserve you. Don’t fuckin’ deserve you, baby – “

Your breath stutters at his words, but your pace doesn’t break.

“ – so good to me,” he babbles, “Too good to me – too good for me – “

Tears spring to your eyes at his self-deprecation. You dig your nails into his belly to stop him, grinding down against his pubic bone.

“You’re mine,” you whisper in response. “Mine, Paz Vizsla, you’re mine and you’re perfect.”

Both hands fall to your hips and Paz starts to thrust up into you, taking over and setting the pace he wants. Paz grunts in frustration and pulls you down against his chest, rolling your bodies back over before you can protest. He presses a kiss to your lips before resuming his punishing pace once more, each thrust sending you spiraling higher and higher toward completion. You dig your nails into his back when he starts hitting that spot, the one that makes you sob.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant into his ear. “Gods, yes, Paz – I’m c-coming – “

You tighten around him and cry out on more time, digging your heels into his backside as you come around him, walls shuddering around his cock. The pleasure sweeps through you in deep, devastating waves, leaving you breathless and shaking. Paz goes stiff, harsh groans escaping him with each pulse of his cock inside you. After several long seconds, he falls forward onto his elbows, trapping you under him. As you run your fingers along his spine and massage his shoulders, Paz sighs with pleasure, his cock occasionally twitching.

“Need me to move?” he asks.

“I can take it,” you say sleepily. “Kinda like it. You’re like a weighted blanket. A really warm one.”

He huffs in amusement.

“Your feet are like ice,” he says.

He pulls his hips back. A torrent of his spend follows as you stretch out for a few seconds. Then you crawl under the blanket and curl up, inhaling the soft scent of his pillows. Paz joins you a moment later, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“You’re a walking furnace,” you mumble to him. “Holy fuck.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to your temple. Just as your breath is starting to slow, Paz speaks softly. So softly you nearly miss it.

“Always wanted to go home,” he whispers. “Never knew it was right here the whole time.”

Warmth fills your chest at those sweet words.

“Sleep, cyar’ika.”

For the first time in your life, you find rest easily. You dream of pleasant things, and your future no longer seems terrifying and lonely.

Tags: I guess this qualifies as a fic in some places? lmao

@hdlynn @princessbatears @oloreaa @phoenixhalliwell @reader-without-a-story @nelba @aeryntheofficial @trippedmetaldetector @jedi-mando @marthastewart89

#huliabitch #asks #tailor doesn't understand the meaning of restraint #sorry #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #romance #smut #tailor is a thirsty bitch confirmed

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good-rwbyaus · 5 years ago

Text

@honorable-asshole: I need you to know this is absolutely amazing. And for a title might I suggest "rising snow," since the mid is both rising to the occasion and trying to prevent the collapse of what probably amounts to the world economy?

#Rising Snow AU :: Pieces 12-14 :: mod lilac [ first ] [ previous ]

honorable-asshole asked: Au where Whitley has actually been running the bank accounts since he was young and keeping the group financially viable

// This AU’s name is Rising Snow now. xD. Thank you to honorable-asshole, both the AU namer and the AU inspirer. 8). Runner up for title namer is azdfox for Whit and Wit. - lilac

12. Impression

It didn’t take long to get a response. After Klein and he had their discussion about Acacia, he found his scroll ringing the next day despite it being set to ‘do not disturb’. It was from an unknown caller with a nonsensical 22-digit number, but he didn’t need to be a genius to figure out who it was.

Click.

“I see you’re the big bosss now,” said the woman on the line; he could hear a slight electronic hum resonating with her voice, a blatantly obvious attempt at voice modulation. So blatant that it told him that she wanted him to know - suppose that was one form of sincerity. Despite the voice mask though, it couldn’t hide the drunken slur in her words, one that he couldn’t help but be irritated by.

“Only until Father comes back," he still spoke back neutrally, leaning back on his chair and away from the piling paperwork, "so you’re Acacia.”

A long pause. How drunk was this lady?

"I am,” Acacia continued, “so when are you plotttting the hostile -hic- takeover?”

He couldn’t help but snort at that. Come to think of it... that’s what he was doing now, wasn’t he? Undermining his father’s authority and trying to find where all the skeletons lie. Because he had to be the one in control in the end. His father never treated the Schnee Dust Company as a business but as his own personal piggy bank, and now that the bank was running out, the Schnees were in danger of being left with nothing.

And he wouldn’t be surprised if his father left himself an out. What would it be? A private penthouse in Mistral? A couple offshore bank accounts in Vale? Who knows? It ticked him off greatly, but he had more important things to do than indulge in pointless anger.

‘You must not like my Father very much,” he returned.

"I don’t,” the woman said sternly, probably the most sober thing she said. “Your father took everything from me.”

“Then why help his son?” Whitley asked.

"You are you. Your father is your father."

“That’s not enough to reassure me,” Whitley said sharply, “You show up drunk to our first meeting, are using a voice modulator, and don’t even show your face. Are you even taking this seriously? The only reason why I’m entertaining you right now is because of Klein’s assurances that I can trust you.”

He heard something like a choke in the background and then a click. He quickly glanced at his scroll - they weren’t disconnected - she must’ve muted herself.

Another click.

“...Klein’s a good man,” the voice hiccupped out, though her voice sounded more strained - hoarse even.

“He is. But I still don’t trust you. From what I heard, you’re not just a secretary but an expert on technological surveillance,” Whitley replied, “If I let you into the system, I very well may be letting a wolf in.”

“...You can’t keep me out in the firssst placee,” Acacia slurred.

“Prove it,” Whitley said.

The sound of typing filled his ears before it quickly stopped.

“My show of -hic- sincerity,” she quietly said.

His scroll suddenly went dark and turned back on. Numerous video feeds popped into view. The kitchen, his sisters’ bedrooms, Klein in the kitchen, the dining room, the lounge, his own bedroom... Alarmed, he turned towards the bookcase to his side before looking down at the scroll in his hands - it was tracking him.

He hurriedly walked over and quickly pulled out a book that had a pin-sized hole within it. The scroll’s feed followed wherever he pointed. And the Schnee Mansion was covered in these cameras?! It was impossible for it not to be an inside job then. He shook in rage. Was his father seriously that paranoid about maintaining power - that he’d spy on his own family!?

His attention returned to the scroll. He took a few calming breaths.

“I’ve received your sincerity well,” he finally let out, “Another thing that my father will have to answer for.”

Another long quiet moment.

“I... yes," the voice stuttered out quietly, “...you trust me now?”

“I can trust you to put your money where your mouth is,” Whitley corrected, “That’s probably as good a foundation we’re going to get for our working relationship, since you’re clearly not going to reveal your identity. Is Acacia even your real name?”

He then shook his head.

“Actually you know what? It doesn’t matter now. As of right now, you and Klein are the only assets I have,” Whitley said with a long exhale. A loyal butler and a drunk secretary, better than being alone with this mess.

‘....Regardless of what happens, I’ll be by youur side,” the voice said, “even if you decide to driiive this company into the ground.”

Acacia... sounded oddly sincere about that, though the effect was somewhat diminished by the fact the woman was completely sloshed.

“I thought you loved the company,” Whitley asked.

“I loved the people in it,” she said mournfully, “I admired your granddad...” She paused, “Since you have his blood, as far as I’m concerned, the company is yours to do as you see fit.”

“You know that Winter and Weiss are the true heiresses, right? If you really wanted to get the company back up, shouldn’t you be asking them?” Whitley questioned.

“Do they -hic- look like they want anything to do with it?”

“Hahaha,” Whitley couldn’t help but laugh at himself. That was true. The prize he always strived for was looked upon as garbage by his older sisters - and what was more ironic was that the company was actually garbage. Was he really the only blind one here? He sighed before he shook his head, banishing the useless self-pity away.

“It’s their loss. I’m going to save this company,” Whitley declared, “I’m going to make sure we’re so entrenched in Atlas - in Remnant - that no one will dare do anything to the Schnees.”

He closed his eyes and looked down at his scroll.

“Will you help me towards that goal?” he asked.

“Like I said, it’s your company,” the voice replied, “I’ll go as far as you want to go, President Schnee.”

He smiled.

President Schnee. He liked the sound of that. But first things first.

“Then since you’ve clearly shown yourself in, let’s begin. I need the budget reports starting from last year...”

---

13. Efficiency

Having Acacia on board for the past several days made his job easier. No longer did he have to sift through unimportant garbage such as meeting schedules or planning dinners or cafeteria food requests. She instead triaged his work, sending documents where they actually needed to go - he suspected she had a digital stamp with his signature on it - and made sure things got done in the background. Despite the questionable legality and hole in oversight, he found it a welcome thing. He could finally focus on more important matters such as where all his company’s money went or the increasing unrest down at the Mantle mining sites.

He’d seen signs of his company’s corruption back when he took a glance at the budget. R & D had been a black hole where money goes in and nothing comes out. Transport and Delivery had been ‘losing’ more and more Dust shipments. Customer Support was full of idiots he’d fired on the first few day of his job. Security has been demanding more funds to deal with the so-called Faunus threat without any actual evidence to their claims.

The only thing that’s made profit at all was Dust Mining and Surveying, which was personally managed by the President. It was literally the only thing that was holding this company together.

He picked up his scroll and sent a voice message.

“Acacia. I’ve gone through the budget. I’ll be requiring your expertise. I’ll need information on the following people before I meet them two days from n-”

Klein walked in, not with a milkshake, but with a bowl of spaghetti.

“Klein, I said I wanted a milkshake, not this.”

“You’ve been drinking milkshakes for two days now, Master Whitley, ” Klein said, “Acacia has again expressed... concern.”

He sighed as he grumpily stared at the bowl, picking up his fork.

“Is she your boss or am I your boss?” he grumbled at both phone and Klein, though no heat was in his tone. He knew Klein was looking out for him, though he was surprised Acacia did too.

He smiled faintly as he began eating the pasta.

His parents might not care for him and his sisters, but at least he still had people willing to stand by his side.

-------

14. Threat

Several men, dressed in suits and blazers, sat inside a large board room; the last chair at the end of the table had yet to be filled. All of them seemed annoyed at being called at this late hour. “What’s going on?”

“Beats me. I was being attended by a masseuse when I got the emergency order.”

“Stop complaining. I was with my mistress when it happened. You know how uncomfortable it is to take that pill and not-”

“Shut it. Isn’t the president supposed to be on vacation?”

“Then how did this emergency meeting get called?”

“Because I called it,” Whitley spoke as he opened the door to the board room. Wearing a navy blue suit complete with a sky blue tie, he adjusted his silver cufflinks slightly and sat down at the end chair. “Gentlemen.”

“Whitley Schnee,” the man to the left of him said in a fawning expression, “haven’t seen you since the last dinn-”

“Shut it, Samson,” he interrupted.

“What?” Samson, the CEO of R&D, questioned blankly before he quickly stood up, yelling “What’d you say you little bra-”

“I told you all to shut it,” Whitley growled as he glared back into the now hostile room, “Do you know what all you scum here have in common?”

“You’ve all stolen money from my company. Hundreds of millions of Lien,” he announced and turned on the projector with a push of the remote. Budget statements with padded numbers crossed out and the corrected ones filled in appeared on the screen, complete with department names. Bank transfers to personal accounts could be seen.

Several members of the company’s board had looks of astonishment while others maintained a perfect poker face.

“You shouldn’t make false accusations.”

“This is all fake!”

“Do you think you’re actually the president?”

“As far as all of you are concerned, I am,” Whitley countered, slowly standing up and turning his back to them, “Klein, please pass my esteemed associates their information packets.”

The butler quietly yet swiftly delivered a manila folder to every one of the room’s inhabitants. Several of them began looking through the contents and immediately became pale.

“Some of you... Most of you - by virtue of your thieving - have committed crimes that could be considered treason to the Kingdom of Atlas,” Whitley quietly spoke to the now silent room.

He turned his head immediately to a balding bespectacled man, “Lexington, the heating coils in Mantle should last for a decade per our agreement with the Kingdom of Atlas, so why did you construct them with material that would only work four or five years at best?” he asked before adding, “That’s pretty shifty, especially in light of your recent purchase of a mansion whose price happens to match the missing portion of the budget. Horrible correlation, right?”

“And Rex, what happened to the protective walls down at Mantle,” he asked in a kind tone, smiling, “They should’ve been finished a year ago, so why are we still two years behind?”

His smile shifted to a disdainful frown, “Tch.”

“As for the rest of you, you should find that my money is not easily taken. The folders will easily show that I know where all your skeletons lie.”

Quiet murmurs filled the room. Some of them clandestinely attempted to use their scrolls, only to find they had no signal - Acacia’s work.

“What do you want us to do?” Samson said, the fastest thinking of the lot. That was why he was the closest ally of his father - ally: his father didn’t have friends.

“At least you’re smart. Not smart enough to stop yourself from stealing from my company, but still...” Whitley replied, which made the man redden with anger, “You will all sign documents to the effect that you are willingly transferring your stocks to me. After confirmation of the transfer, you will then resign,” Whitley calmly said, “If you do those two things, I will keep what I’ve learned under my belt, and we all walk away happy.”

“What?”

“Don’t go too far, kid.”

“You think you’ll survive if you dare take on all of us,” one of the CEOs replied, “Tch. I’m done with this farce.”

Just as the CEO stood up, Whitley delivered his ulitmatum, “should anyone leave here without doing those two things, I release everyone’s information to Atlas.”

“The company won’t survive if you do tha-”

“What you’re doing is a crime. This is blackmai-”

“No, no, no. This isn’t blackmail,” Whitley interrupted with a laugh, “this is simply a business deal, a mere trading of worthless stock for your valuable lives. Now if you think that what I’m doing is a crime...” He shrugged, “I guess I have no choice but to report these things to the proper authorities.”

The room fell silent at that.

“As for the company, you’re right. Losing a lot of important assets at once will impact the company,” he lightly said before glaring at them, “Luckily, all of you are leeches and don’t fall under that category.”

Lexington bristled.

“If you release that information on us, have you not thought about what will happen to your father?”

Whitley chuckled.

“Oh I certainly have. My father will likely go to jail after all this, and I’ll probably have to go on TV and talk about how sorry I am about my father’s crimes and that I’ll work hard to atone in his place,” he replied, “Troublesome things, yes. And of little worth, since I do agree that the Schnees will be a very hated name in the Kingdom for quite some time.”

“But we’ll at least have the opportunity to recover. The rest of you on the other hand...” he chuckled darkly, "...will probably have long met the firing squad.”

“And as for those of you who think they can escape, do you really think your connections will mean anything once General Ironwood gets ahold of you?”

The room became quiet once more as they considered the question.

“I thought so,” Whitley finished with a calm smile, a smile that these ruthless businessmen would be seeing in their nightmares - the smile of a son willing to sacrifice his own father for his goals. Everything that he wanted to show, he let them see.

“So no more objections? Shall we start the transfer of assets then?”

#rising snow au #whitley schnee #klein sieben #rwby au #rwby #rwby fic #mod lilac

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