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ghostofbambifanfiction · 3 years

Text

Part 1 of ?????

Started writing this fic a while ago and then lost faith in it. Should I continue? Feel bad for not posting much lately so I thought I'd share this. Read on and weigh in.

COME OUT TONIGHT

You don't have to fucking shout?

Said the pot to the kettle?

Oh you grandmother The caps were an accidental by-product of voice-to-text Blame Siri if you're going to blame anyone

You have a Samsung Galaxy S20.

HAD. It got smashed. Worst luck. Listen, come out with me tonight.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm tired!

https://www.boots.com/wellness/vitaminsandsupplements/vitamins-supplements-shop-by-ingredient/echinacea

Hah (indifferent)

Just come out with me! Isaac has to go see some godawful student performance of the Antigone in wherever the fuck Chichester is and it's Sirius's flatmate's birthday party so I have to go and I don't know any of his weird mates

You don't HAVE to go.

Have to/want to Semantics

I'm not in a birthday party mood. I'm having a stressful week. My arse has been tense since Tuesday.

I will wade into the deep and massage your arse if I have to, just come It's a swank pad in Belgravia! I bet they'll have all sorts of expensive nibbles!

I read that as expensive nipples.

Those too!

Partying it up with the children of wealthy Tories. Sounds super fun.

Just come out with me, for fuck I'll pick you up at 7 and we can steal their silverware if it's boring as the grave

URGH I'll go but I'm NOT dressing up!

You don't have to dress up!

FINE!

take the drawings down please i'm begging you i'm actually begging you

Nah mate

siriusssssssss pleeeeeease

Nah

PLEASE

Nah

PLEASE ffs it's MY birthday!!!! there are going to be PEOPLE there! standing around! AT EYE LEVEL

I don't see what the problem is.

EVERYONE will see what the problem is! they literally will not be able to IGNORE what the problem is!

Sounds like a recipe for lively discussion to me tbh

that is NOT what i want people talking about at my birthday!

If I take them down, I'll have to take all the nails out and that'll leave nail marks all over the walls. It would be unsightly.

MORE UNSIGHTLY THAN YOUR DICK, SIRIUS?

My dick is bewitching.

DIE

She walks in expecting to find herself the infiltrator of a Made in Chelsea/Royal Ascot/Henley Regatta netherworld, filled with a gaggle of giggling, SW-postcode socialites wielding suspiciously powder-edged Harrods Amex cards in the place of horses and boats, but that's not what actually greets her on the other side of the lacquered front door.

What greets her is really quite ordinary.

Aside from the naked drawings of Kingsley's mate, which aren't.

Otherwise, the whole affair is pretty relaxed. People her age are clustered in their small groups, swigging beers. There's a table of oven-heated party foods, salty snacks and rapidly depleting ramekins of guac. She spies more band shirts than there are dress shirts. There's a round of Fortnite in full swing on the TV.

It's all just...startlingly normal. A normal birthday party.

And that's sort of embarrassing, really.

Where are all the visible Tory toffs, she wonders? Where is the braying laughter? The Eton alumni reunion? The glimpse of hunting-happy tweed and shotgun barrels as a coat cupboard door swings shut? Where's the indelible air of sneering superiority, of "we're richer and more privileged and better than you, so fuck the NHS and death to foxes!" that she'd been expecting? There's a fucking Henry Hoover in the corner of the hall, for Christ's sake. Lily came here to smile through her teeth at them all, to listen to the champagne problems privilege that bubbled from their lips and tell herself that she was the one who knew better, who thought better. Her plain white tee and skinny jeans and scuff-toed, high-top trainers were supposed to be a statement, a subtle setting-apart, but she's not even the most underdressed person in the room.

She pre-judged a house full of people. What's that about?

There's a lesson to be found in this. Perhaps.

James covered all of the dicks in Paw Patrol stickers that he bought from the newsagent on his way home from his mum's, but Sirius peeled them all off while he was taking a soothing lavender bath, so what's the bloody point in birthdays anyway?

It's early in the evening, and he's wedged—against his will—between the dining room bar and Shane Ruttle, who has just pointed at one of the many lamentable dicks and asked, "Is this one of yours?" which James kind of wants to thump him for. It's bad enough that he looks like a madman who stuffed his house with naked drawings of his brother, now people are actually assuming that he drew the damn things, even though most of the compositions are appallingly far beneath his skill level. He's a professional illustrator, for the love of god, and Shane is really standing before him like the posturing prick he is, asking him if he's the one who drew Sirius with one arm disproportionately longer than the other.

He knows that he should cheer up.

It is his birthday. There is cake.

Good cake, too, not the kind that gets buried in too-thick fondant that he has to pick off before he can eat what's underneath.

The problem is, there's also a party, and his friends are his friends, Peter and Sirius included, and Peter and Sirius can both get drunk much faster than James can. When Peter and Sirius get drunk, serious injuries tend to follow, Remus tends to fuck off in a flash and James tends to be the one who calls for an ambulance or mothers them back to health—physical, mental or otherwise. He has just turned twenty-six, and these repeated, drunkenly dramatic medical emergency scenes are starting to wear a little thin.

Can't a man get comfortably drunk and have a laugh at his own birthday party?

No, he can't, because Peter's already halfway to trashed, wobbling unsteadily towards the French doors that lead to the terrace, wearing that look on his face that says I'm definitely going to vomit or maybe even shit myself like I did on that one night we all spent in Munich with the Belgian handball team and the creepy tour guide who couldn't keep his sleazy hands to himself. For the sake of sparing the lawn such a punishment, James hastily removes himself from Shane, grabs Peter by the collar, shoves him in the direction of the downstairs loo and retreats to the safety of the living room, where there are, at least, no naked drawings of Sirius gracing the walls.

Most of the people in here are transfixed by Saffy Stephens, who is down to the last three in her Fortnite game and cursing like a sailor, but there are a small pile of birthday cards on the end table where James and Sirius normally keep their keys. He perches on the sofa arm, sets his half-drunk beer bottle on the carpet, pushes his dark, disheveled hair away from his forehead and begins leafing through them. It's a necessity when one lives with Sirius, who thinks nothing of swiping gift cards when the mood strikes him and he's had enough to drink.

They're mostly from his female friends, and all pretty standard, until he reaches the middle of the pile and finds a card bearing a picture of a moustached tabby and the caption: Have a Purr-fect Birthday!

The inscription inside is written in a lovely, swirling hand.

To Jasper/Jack/Jason/maybe Ja Rule?/J-something idk

(see above: everything I've learned about you from the friend* I came here with, verbatim)

(*who can't remember your name)

Happy Birthday! Thank you for (not) specifically inviting me, a stranger, to your party to celebrate this momentous event in your life. Please enjoy this festive card/social nicety/convention from me to you. My friend brought rum which you may prefer.

I'll be around. Not that you'll know.

James lowers the card and twists on the sofa arm at once, eyes darting around the room in search of its author, as if they might be laying in wait to watch him read it and see how he reacts. Nobody appears to have ducked behind the couch, however, so the situation merits further scrutiny.

Obviously, he needs to meet this person.

A mystery! At his birthday party!

He perks right up after that.

She's coming out of the downstairs loo when a short, blonde man in a garish Hawaiian shirt barrels past her and pukes all over the chequerboard tiled floor, narrowly missing her jeans.

"Oh no," he moans into his wet hands. "Oh no—"

"There there, mate," says Lily consolingly, never one to judge somebody for getting drunk early at a party. She pats him on the back before squeezing past him and rejoining Kingsley, who is standing in one of this meandering Georgian house's many hallways, chatting to a bloke in a houndstooth sweater vest and holding two glasses of something very, very sparkly that she must try at once.

"It's like...it's like everything and nothing at the same time," Houndstooth Bloke is saying when Lily draws close, gesturing to a huge canvas painting of a rain-soaked fairground at night.

"Is it?" Kingsley asks.

"Mmm. Very." Houndstooth shakes his shoulders like he's slipping out of a robe. "Meant to be esoteric, I suppose."

That sounds suspiciously like pretentious bullshit to Lily, who doesn't find the concept of a merry looking fairground all that difficult to absorb. Kingsley knows more about the art world than she does, but he must agree with her assessment because he grunts and shoves her glass into her hand when she stops beside him, and more roughly than she deserves, as if she's the one who landed him in this mess of a conversation to begin with.

Trust him to find himself stuck with the only dick (not etched by a 4B Steadtler graphite pencil) in the building, and trust her to be stuck with the person who got himself stuck with King.

"What are we talking about?" she asks brightly, just to fuck with him.

"Drink your champagne, there's a good little hen," King mutters, his teeth clenched together, hallway lights bouncing off the smoothly waxed dome of his bald head.

"We've been discussing this piece." Houndstooth nods to the painting, but his limpid eyes narrow on Lily's face. "Christ, you're very redheaded, aren't you?"

It's decided. She'll wait 'til Houndstooth is drunk and trip him up with Henry Hoover's hose.

"Ergo soulless, yes," she agrees.

"And you...enjoy that?" he asks, as if being redheaded is her profession.

"Very much, thanks."

"Hmmp. Well. I came here with Saffron," he announces, pronouncing it Sef-ron. As if Lily is supposed to know who that is. "Platonically, of course. Actually, we're some sort of cousins, I think. What do you think the artist is trying to convey?"

He's very pointedly asking her, so Lily blinks at the painting, her eyes on the outstretched arm of a child on the carousel.

"I like the pretty colours," she decides aloud.

"Right," says Houndstooth, "but that's not—"

"And the lights, too. The lights are really pretty."

"But—"

"I love funfairs, actually," she brightly continues, finding a strange satisfaction in playing dumb in front of Houndstooth and his overbleached fade. Although she does really like the colours. "Haven't been to one in years!"

"Yes, good, whatever, but what is the artist trying to convey?"

"What artist?" comes a voice from behind them.

Lily glances over her shoulder and finds herself looking up at the man whose penis she's spent the past thirty minutes avoiding eye contact with, though he is taller, better proportioned and infinitely more beautiful than any of those crudely drawn depictions could possibly convey. He is also beplumed and bejewelled like a pirate, wearing a sumptuous velvet jacket over a loose white shirt, numerous rings on his fingers and an assortment of silver chains around his slender neck, while his grey eyes and elegantly high-set cheekbones are framed by a tumble of black hair that genuinely looks like silk.

The man is so beautiful, in fact, that Lily immediately wonders why he's been taking sketches home from the life drawing class that he and Kingsley pose for—hence their acquaintance and Lily's presence at this party—when nothing she's seen tonight has done him any justice.

Most happily, his penis is tucked safely out of sight.

"Alright, Sirius?" says King.

"Alright, Marvel?" Sirius claps a hand to the taller man's massive shoulder. Kingley's muscles bulge in a way that cannot be hidden by modern habiliments. "What are we talking about?"

"Not much." Houndstooth looks put out by the arrival of yet another person. "We were just mesmerised by this piece."

Lily refrains from gesturing to the painting with both hands and a "ta-dah!" choosing instead to sip her champagne.

It's very good champagne. Mmm. Yes.

"Oh, yeah, it's really something," Sirius agrees. He brushes past Kingsley and runs a finger over the illegible squiggle of a signature on the canvas. His nails are beautifully manicured. "Local guy, young up-and-comer. I assume you've heard of Algernon?" he asks Houndstooth, fixing him with a steely-eyed stare.

"Er, yes." Houndstooth's gaze slides from Sirius to the painting. "I know him."

Sirius's eyebrows lift. "Know him personally?"

"Well—"

"That's so weird, I heard he never speaks to people."

Houndstooth chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the challenge. "How…funny."

"Funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I know I've spoken to him before, and since you've bought his painting I assumed that you'd have—"

"That is funny, actually," Sirius interrupts, "because the artist is my brother, and Algernon is the name of his cat."

Kingsley has been tugging on his earring and almost rips it out of his ear as his body convulses, champagne spraying from his nostrils, while an alarming red flush sweeps across Houndstooth's face and he begins to sputter on his own self-importance. Sirius has clearly decided that he's done with all of that noise, however, because he turns back to Lily instead, looking her up and down with great and sudden interest.

"Who's this then?" he asks Kingsley, cocking his head to one side. "James's present?"

The champagne glass swings down and Lily fixes him with a deadpan stare. "Excuse me?"

Sirius slants a grin at Kingsley, a quick flash of teeth. "This one's queenly, isn't she?"

Kingsley wipes his nose with the back of his hand and laughs again. "Hardly."

"This is Primark, mate," Lily retorts, tugging on her t-shirt.

"Queenliness is a state of mind," says Sirius, "not a state of wardrobe."

"You had me marked down as a prostitute not ten seconds ago."

"Oh, that. I was only joking," he sighs, and grips her arm at the elbow, his long fingers cool against her skin. "But still, you're far too attractive to stand here talking to this clown. Come with me and I'll find you someone better."

James's friends are useless.

And drunk. Useless and drunk—or sort of drunk, in Saffy's case. Remus is certainly already pissed, but Remus is on meds so often that he drinks but once in a blue moon. One cocktail is usually enough to set him off, and he's been hard at the gin since he turned up with Peter at six.

"I don't know anyone with those initials," Saffy declares, once she has read, examined and even sniffed the birthday card for clues. "Except for Lisa Edelstein."

"Who's Lisa Edelstein?"

"Cuddy from House," says Remus, lowering the negroni from which he has been drinking deeply.

James pulls a face. "What the fuck is a Cuddy?"

"Oh, actually, it could mean le?" Remus suggests.

"Yes!" Saffy points at him like he might be onto something. "Like the French word for the?"

"Exactly, like—"

"It doesn't mean that!" James interrupts, unwilling to allow such profanity in his home. "That doesn't make sense, why would somebody sign their name as the?"

"Now you're asking me to explain how French people think?" says Saffy derisively, adjusting her bra strap beneath that burnt orange waistcoat she loves, the one that makes her look like she's directing a pornographic movie in the 70s when she pairs it with her tortoiseshell-framed aviators. It clashes wildly with her electric blue buzz-cut. "Am nooooo drunk enough for that."

"They could be one of those one word moniker pop stars, I suppose," Remus pipes up, smiling slyly. "You know, like Madonna?"

They think James doesn't realise that they're taking the piss out of him, but neither of them are sober enough to attempt their gambit with any kind of subtlety or grace.

"You know that's actually her real Christian name?" says Saffy.

Remus turns towards her with interest. "What, Madonna?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Saffy repeats. "I thought it couldn't possibly be her real name because, I mean, Madonna, yeah? But then I looked it up and apparently that's the name her mummy gave her, just goes to show—"

"I'm sorry," James interrupts, "but is Madonna relevant to this conversation?"

"Yes, always," says Saffy.

"She's an international pop megastar," Remus seconds.

James stares at his friend incredulously. "Drinking really chips away at your wit, y'know?"

"Does it?" Remus grins lazily and jiggles his cocktail in the air. "Oh, well, I'm negronly joking."

Saffy does a spit-take without the spit and clings helplessly to Remus's shoulder as she laughs, knees buckling, bangles tinkling, but James fights his own urge to start snickering.

"It's not that funny," he lies, and Remus eyes him with an alarmingly teacher-like shrewdness, despite the tellingly intoxicated flush that has crept into his thin, freckled face.

James's love of puns is tragically well known.

"You didn't get it." Remus points at his drink. His speech is starting to slur. "This is a negroni, what I said was—"

"Yeah, I got that part, I just—"

"Jesus fuck, look at her!" Saffy suddenly hisses, staggering sideways into Remus and sending him into the wall in a flurry of giggles—Remus giggling?—her voice hushed and urgent. "Who the hell is that?!"

James does look, following the direction of Saffy's gaze. Sirius has just entered the living room, casually clutching the elbow of a……

……goddess.

An actual. Like. Goddess.

A goddess. In James's house. In his living room. In the place where he eats his chocolate boulder cereal and rewatches Scrubs (even season 9, which is hilarious, and very unfairly disparaged by Joe Public) on Saturday mornings.

She's a goddess. A real one, and cleverly disguised as a mortal, sure, with her slouchy white t-shirt and her big hoop earrings and her light blue jeans that are torn at the knees, wearing her shoulder-length red hair half up, half down and slightly messy, but that doesn't hide what she is.

"Oh my god," he murmurs. His heart is pounding all of a sudden, which is so...utterly bloody stupid, but Saffy's right, bloody look at her, Jesus fuck.

"Surely she can't be with Sirius?" Saffy murmurs back.

"No, she—" He watches Sirius lean down to mutter something in the redhead's ear. A ghost of a laugh flits across her beautiful face. "She's not his—he isn't—"

"D'you think—"

"No, I—"

"Good," says Saffy firmly. She lets go of Remus and rises, lengthening her spine. It is a battle stance of some sort, presumably. "Because I saw her first."

"No!" James cries, wounded, and the redhead shoots him a curious look with a pair of eyes that are startlingly emerald green, even from all the bloody way over here. He spins to face Saffy and lowers his voice, face burning. "It's my house!"

"What are you arguing here, ownership rights?"

"No but it—it's my birthday!" James retorts, jabbing at his own chest. "And, actually, and—"

"It's in the bloody post!"

"—you didn't get me a present!" he finishes in triumph, not that he knows what he's arguing for, because the likelihood is that his tongue will glue itself to the roof of his mouth if he even dares to look in her direction one more time. "Plus I set you up with Vanya Petrich, with whom, as I recall, you enjoyed four years—"

"Stop throwing that in my face!"

"—four blissful years—"

"Is it my fault that you've never fancied any girl I've set you up with?!"

"—promised me an Easter ham for setting you up with her and I never got it—"

"So now you'll trade a woman for a ham?" Saffy accuses, though her face is too lit up, her brown eyes too crinkled at the corners—she's having fun with this and she isn't going to fool him and she knows it. "That's so low, even—"

"Don't start with that," James scathingly cuts in. "You offered me Sean Connery's autograph for Bonnie Grogan's number—"

"Which you never gave me!"

"Because you forged the bloody signature!"

"And now she's bloody married!"

"Yeah, well, Isabella wouldn't give me a counterfeit present, would she?" he retorts, and Saffy lets her shoulders drop, smirking. "This is pointless, Saf, we can't—"

"She's just left with Sirius," Remus informs them, and burps.

#Jily #Part 1 #Of 3?#Honestly I just wanted to give you guys a treat

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wandering-travesty · 3 years

Text

Call Me By Your Name

You weren’t sleezy. That was just a word idiots used to try and pull you down to their level. Yes, your hair was slicked back. Yes, your eyeshadow was dark as the night. Yes, your suit jacket barely covered your chest. Yes, your nails were painted black and sharp as daggers. But, no, you weren’t sleezy. You were dressed for your job. What was your job? Well, that was a bit more complicated….

“I need you to get close to him.” Erwin said coolly, stubble covered chin resting on his strong hands.

“I’m sorry?” You asked, genuinely hoping you had too much wax lodged in your ear canals.

“You heard him.” You met the glare of the midget standing behind your boss.

“Okay, smartass, I did. But you can’t be serious, boss! He’s beyond dangerous. Shouldn’t someone like,” you gestured in Levi’s direction, “one of the Ackermans take care of this? I’m not discounting myself or anything, but fucking with a Yeager is basically a suicide mission.” You were actually shocked Erwin asked you to do something so important. More so, dangerous. You weren’t exaggerating when you said it was a death sentence. You’d lost enough comrades to know that.

“Listen, he’s the key to taking down the Marlian Syndicate.” You knew that, but still, this seemed out of left field. “The Ackermans are strong, yes, but they lack a certain…”

“They’re not ready to whore themselves out. Just say that, Smith.” You understood now. The Ackermans were cold blooded killers ready to strike at any moment. However, they were awkward and completely inept at things like lust and heated and frankly revolting rendezvous. That was how he wanted you to get information for him.

Erwin wanted you to fuck the leader of the Marlian Syndicate.

“I wouldn’t use that wording exactly, but your assumption is correct.” Levi couldn’t seem to meet your gaze, but Erwin continued to stare straight into your soul. He was the leader of La Peste Eldienne (The Eldian Plague) for a reason. Strong, debonair, charming, and slightly insane. He could down a beer in one swig, sip a martini all night long, or abstain from alcohol completely. Whatever he needed to do, he did. He murdered, sent the idiotic young and the hopeless old to their deaths just the same, and could absolutely wine and dine a stranger until their clothes practically flew off their body if it was for the cause. You needed to be like that. Especially at a time like this.

“I’ll do it. And I’ll do it well.” You assured your boss and his partner. Yeah, this would be easy. You could go low as the scum you were about to completely fuck over. You had been climbing up the ranks as of late, so this would be easy as pie.

Before going on your little date: you made a mental note of the main players you would have to deal with. The list you had went something like this:

Porco Galliard: Complete idiot. All brawn, no brain. Basically a bouncer with a fancier jacket and a higher salary. No worries about him doing anything funny.

Pieck Finger: The sweet little thing they kept around for good reason. Part of you wished you had to deal with her instead. She was witty and had a surprising amount of control over the shipments of cocaine and ammunition that went on about the city. Her pretty face and calm demeanor hid her true genius. She was one of the more concerning figures at tonight’s gig, but also one of the one’s more willing to hear you out before killing you.

Colt Grice: Basically a smarter but weaker version of Galliard. He was really only part of the Syndicate to learn from the best and become a great mafioso one day. You had high hopes for him, despite yourself.

Bertholdt Hoover: A freakishly tall mix of the last three members of the gang. So sweaty and shaky he wasn’t allowed to handle guns under any circumstance. That told you all you needed to know about his threat level.

Annie Leonhardt: Tiny, quiet ball of rage and skill. Could murder you in an instant, but would only do so if ordered. Not a concern unless someone else found you out, or you didn’t like being glared at all night.

Reiner Braun: His personality changed with the passing minutes. Could be calm and almost kind, or could snap your neck like a twig in his giant ass hand. He was a wildcard, and a dangerous one. Though he was obsessed with following orders and being the perfect little soldier boy, so you didn’t need to worry about him if no one told him to start shooting.

Yelena: Even more freakishly tall than Hoover. Also freakishly obsessed with the gang leader and his “master plan”, whatever the hell that was. Maybe you would find out tonight. Anyways, she would only do anything if you threatened the boss in any way. If you did your job right, that wouldn’t be an issue.

Eren Yeager: Easily the most brash and idiotic member of the gang. His problem was that he was trigger happy. In this business, trigger happy meant dozens of dead innocents piled up on the club floor in an instant. You had to be careful around him. Unlike most of the others, he would kill you without thinking.

And the top dog. The man of the hour. The man you had to seduce:

Zeke Yeager: Think Erwin but with more wit and charm. Not to mention more of a sadistic mindset. His favorite game was cat and mouse, seeing how long it took before he had a good excuse to have someone drawn and quartered. His expertise was slow torture that the victim didn’t even really know was happening before the barrel of the gun was already pointed to their temple. And you had to fuck him so stupid he leaked confidential information.

The only other issue with Zeke was his habit of sleeping around. Yes, he was a tramp by most standards. A harlot with exotic tastes. You had heard stories of him seducing women and men alike, and god only knew what they did once he succeeded. What that meant for you was he would be hard to impress.

So, you were here to beat him at his own game. And if you were found out, his younger brother would most likely shoot you on the spot. That was, if one of the others did it first. Or even worse, Zeke decided to be a tried and true asshole and torture you to death. The options were endless, and you hated them all.

So there you sat, ass perched on a bar stool, sipping on a gin rickey and waiting for your opportunity. The room smelled strongly of tobacco, rum, and cinnamon. At least you would die surrounded by what you loved, you thought, laughing grimly to yourself. Men and women danced to slow songs you faintly recognized. The air buzzed with haughty laughter and upper class small talk. You barely had any idea how to interact with high society shitheads as high and mighty as the ones Yeager surrounded himself with. You weren’t often sent out to jobs like this. You were like Levi, born in the slums and never taught how to properly behave. You knew what you had to, much like your knowledge of the goings on of La Peste Eldienne. You knew your gang traded drugs, ammunition, and whatever else was a hot commodity at the time, but nothing other than that. You were actually quite glad to know nothing, since that made you a pretty unimportant person to rival gangs. Not as many death threats and kidnapping attempts came your way, unlike the ones Erwin, Hange, and Levi got every day. You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts on the gang hierarchy.

“Excuse me, miss. The boss wants to chat with ya’ real quick.” A man with greasy hair and green, catlike eyes softly gripped your shoulder. Considering what you knew of Galliard, you figured that grip wouldn’t be soft for much longer if you didn’t do as he suggested.

“Oh, alright. Did he happen to mention why?” You were genuinely curious. Porco didn’t offer you any solid answer, but there was a reasonable explanation.

Zeke wanted to get his rocks off. Parties could be interesting, with the right people, of course. The right people hadn’t happened to show up that night. You, on the other hand, seemed interesting. To be frank, you were gorgeous. Even from a distance, he could tell there was something behind your eyes that spelled trouble. He loved people like you. Vicious, cunning, witty, all hidden behind an uninterested and bored demeanor. Those were the people he wanted around him. The best examples were Pieck, and surprisingly, Levi. They seemed to be completely different people than the ones hiding behind their eyes, and Zeke loved to see how long it took to break them down. Well, he was a bit kinder to Pieck, but you and Ackerman got the rough treatment.

“Zeke, what the hell’re you doin’?” Eren pulled him out of his rather disgusting thoughts of…things better left unsaid.

“I’m going to talk to a woman, Eren. What does it seem like I’m doing?” Zeke had a sharp tongue and quick wit, which he didn’t spare even his brother from.

“I get that, but why that one? She seems…shady t’me. I wouldn’t let ‘er get too close, y’know?”

“Eren, please be rational.” Zeke held a palm out in front of Eren, as if to physically stop his train of thought. “You and Yelena will shoot at the first sign of danger, so inviting this lovely woman to join us for a harmless chat isn’t a danger in the slightest.” Zeke reassured his brother, neglecting to tell him his true intentions. He was sure that would just make him more upset and skittish, which was dangerous for everyone there.

“’Kay, boss. Got the dame ya’ asked for.” Porco trudged to the brothers’ secluded table with you in tow. He had kept one hand on your shoulder and the other right above your ass. The two main reasons being: one, he didn’t want someone so seemingly important to escape his grip, and two, you had a nice ass.

“Ah, thank you Galliard…you can let her go now.” He gave Porco a knowing smirk. He let you go immediately and walked away, cheeks slightly reddened. Zeke didn’t want someone else touching his new toy.

“I’m sorry if this comes off as rude, but did you need something from me? That man made me leave my gin at the bar and I would like to finish it at some point.” Oh, Zeke was going to love you. You weren’t flighty or scared in the slightest. He knew you had seen some serious shit. Not to mention how you cared more about your alcohol than a dangerous mafia boss and his younger brother ordering you over to their table. You were attractive and relatable. What a catch.

“My apologies, Galliard tends to be a bit, how do you say, brutish. Feel free to order something new and sit down with us.” He gave you a smile that told you it wasn’t a suggestion. This guy was already just as bad as everyone had told you. He hailed a waiter over to the table. You knew that wasn’t some kind gesture, rather a show of how much power he had over everyone there. His long, thick fingers and suave smile also showed you how easily swayed you could be by dashing looks and raw power.

He held himself like a king but talked like a philosopher. At the same time, he was down to earth yet still slightly condescending. You never knew where you stood with him, and he liked it that way. His flaxen hair was parted down the middle, and unlike most of the men there along with yourself with their hair hardened with pomade, it was fluffy and moved as he gestured wildly when he spoke. He tended to talk with his hands, once again drawing attention to just how attractive they were. His face was indescribably beautiful. His eyes were like stormy oceans cascading with passion and intrigue. His lips looked soft and plush with a wonderful roseate hue. His beard was well groomed and framed his sharp jaw perfectly. His gold rimmed glasses had a habit of hiding his eyes when thrown into direct light, which often happened with how he talked with his whole body. The way he constantly made direct eye contact with you had you lost in a daze of desire and fear. Was this all some sick ploy to get you to slip up and get everyone you loved killed along with yourself? Or was he seriously that interested in you?

Eren was quiet most of the time, unless Zeke spoke to him. He didn’t like you. You were too similar to Zeke for his tastes.

“Say, Eren, could you pass me a smoke?”

“Oh, so you do have vices. See, you never ordered a drink for yourself, so I assumed you were a man above pleasures of the flesh.” You flashed a toothy grin at him, signaling that it was just playful banter. You two were both rather good at that.

“My dear, the more you get to know me, the better you will understand just how enthralled with earthly pleasures I am.” He winked, and it sent you to the moon with want. How could a man be so gorgeous, charming, dangerous, and sadistic all at the same time? And why did you have to deal with it? You needed him out of his right mind, but it seemed like that could never happen. Whether it came from alcohol, drugs, or sex. You planned to use a mixture of all three. As you continued your playful jabs and taunts at each other, you found your opportunity to seal the deal. One sniff of the white stuff and he was putty in your hands.

“Now you know, Mr. Yeager, gin isn’t my only vice.” You kept your usual sly tone.

“Oh really? That is quite the interesting thing to say.” He matched your energy perfectly. This was too good.

“Have you ever happened to try, well, what do they call it these days? Well, I tend to call it blow. Snow, stardust, snort, sugar, crack, whichever you prefer, I suppose.” Oh, how brave of you to mention your own trade to your top competitor.

“Why, yes, I have indeed partook in snorting blow. Is there any reason as to why you’re asking me that right now, darling?” You wished he would stop with the pet names. Or rather, you wished you would stop loving them so much. It felt dirty to enjoy your enemy’s company to this extent.

“Well, I was wondering if you might like to sneak off and try some of my personal mix.” You leaned in close, covering the side of you mouth with your hand. Eren wasn’t a bad kid or anything, but he’d mess with your plan, and you couldn’t have that. Especially not with his slippery ass trigger finger.

“Your own personal mix, eh? Don’t tell me you’re involved in the trade, now.” He leaned in just shy of touching your lips. “That wouldn’t be very good for either of us, sweetheart.” That’s it, you were fucking this man if it was part of your plan or not. The entire thing could go south, and you’d still want this man’s dick in your mouth. You didn’t really care anymore. He was too hot to handle, and you were this close to cracking under the pressure. Zeke was right, you were fun to play with.

“Not at all, I just happen to know the right people.” You grinned at him, knowing you technically weren’t lying. It was your own little inside joke, or so you thought.

The next thing you knew you were in Zeke’s penthouse, smashed up against the wall with a hand around your neck. By all accounts, this is what you wanted, but it was also quite the opposite.

“Dearest, I find it insulting that you think I would fall for that pitiful act.” He had you figured out from the moment you walked in. Zeke Yeager never forgot a pretty face. He’d wanted to have you naked in his bed for months, and here you were, all helpless and needy. You were adorable, thinking you could get whatever you wanted from him.

“Smith was a fool to send anyone, let alone a little minx like you.” You hated how good being insulted by this bitch felt. How did he make it so that your panties got wetter every time he called you a different synonym for whore? It was so awful and so amazing.

“I’m the slut, yet you’re the one actively trying to fuck me? Do I have that right?” You quipped the best you could from under the pressure of his strong hand.

“Alright then, we’re both sluts. But the difference between us is that I admit it, yet you pretend to be this perfect little princess in order to fuck powerful men like me.” His grip on your neck tightened as if to add injury to insult.

“Don’t insult me,” you had to catch your breath between each word, “I fuck men ten times more powerful than you.” But, god was it worth it. You figured he might slap you or otherwise reprimand you, but no, the bastard just smiled wide. What a fucking asshole.

“Maybe to you.” He widened his cheshire grin. “Maybe you think Erwin’s more powerful. That he has a bigger cock and sucking it will get you further in life.” He pushed you further into the wall. “Or maybe letting Ackerman smack your ass will earn you some cash. Or having Zacharius sniff around your cunt instead of your neck will rise you up the ranks, hmm?” You just grimaced at him, knowing none of it was true. “Or maybe,” he let out a chuckle, “letting Zoe do whatever the hell they’re into will get you more coke and gin.” He was mocking you, ruthlessly, with no signs of stopping, and without letting you get a word in. You were starting to see black spots in your line of vision.

“Well, fucking with me will get you much more, angel.” He finally let your neck go, letting you fall to the ground, left to look up at the devil in front of you.

“You fucking suck.” You glared at him, not necessarily trying to hide how much you were enjoying this. As it happened, you weren’t some innocent angel. No, you weren’t a sadistic maniac like Zeke, but you knew what you wanted, and it wasn’t necessarily vanilla. As if reading your earlier thoughts, he bent down to your place on the floor.

He slapped you, and it wasn’t gentle.

“You’re a sloppy whore on your best days, now get up and strip.” Well if worst came to worst, you could say that you got him where you wanted him…just not exactly how you wanted him, or with a guarantee you would get what you wanted out of him. Honestly, you felt kind of flattered by his attention and apparent need to fuck you.

“God, do I have to do everything for you, sweetheart?” Apparently you had been standing around catching your breath too long for his liking. He had made quick work of his own jacket, shirt, and dress pants, leaving him in a black pair of boxers. You hated admitting how magnificent he looked. He was muscular, but not in the same way someone like Reiner or Erwin was. Every single limb on him was lengthy and wiry, thus the bruise marks forming on your neck. While on the subject of length, from what you could see, it applied to his cock as much as it did his other appendages. If it looked that good through the black fabric, you couldn’t even dream of what it would look like out in the open, slapping against his defined v-line and abs.

You hadn’t even noticed him getting closer to you, completely forgetting about his earlier demand turned complaint.

“Not only are you a harlot, you’re a useless one, as well.” He came close enough for you to smell the hints of smoke, pine, and black tea that wafted off of him. He started playing with the collar of your shirt. “But damn if you aren’t a pretty one…” He said that more to himself than you, clearly not being comfortable complimenting you. He saw you as a toy, a pawn in his game of chess he was playing with the rest of the world.

You decided that would be your last deep thought as he began to undress you. Nimbly moving his fingers down each button of your dress shirt, until it came completely undone and bore your chest to him. You were by no means flat, which seemed to entertain the man in front of you.

“I knew you’d be the perfect slut for me.” He groped your breasts through your bra, hands greedy with the clear goal of making you yearn for him. “Perfect tits, soft skin, pretty face, nice ass, strong will. Yeah, you’ll be fun to break.” He gave you one of his signature smirks, making you want to crush his windpipe and deepthroat his dick at the same time.

You shrugged your top off your shoulders and let him snake his arms around your chest to undo your bra and expose your tits to the cool air of the room. He didn’t waste time kissing your filthy mouth, and instead skipped straight to your sensitive neck. He slowly dragged his soft lips down your throat, kissing his way over to both sides and under your jaw. He licked and sucked at any area that made you gasp or let out some embarrassing little noise you tried to desperately to hide. He hated how you hid, he needed you to need him, to want him at a level beyond human comprehension. He wanted to destroy you, do break you down to your most animalistic and pitiful form. You were strong, that was for damn sure, but he wanted to fix that.

He took all this into account as he began nipping at the tops of your breasts. He moved from one to the other with no clear pattern. He dragged his tongue down to your right nipple, only touching the tip of his tongue to it, making you shiver in anticipation and let out a small whine. Yes, that was the progress he wanted to see from you. He swirled his tongue around it, slowly making his way to the center, harshly sucking it into his mouth. He pulled his sinful mouth away from you, leaving a trail of saliva connecting him to you. He quickly made his way to your other nipple, doing the same and driving you just as wild.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to make more noise, darling.” He teased, sounding genuinely annoyed with you.

“Well, maybe if you did a better job, I would be louder.” You had discovered your talent of keeping up with his smart mouth, and you used it to your advantage. You wanted to rile him up; to get a rise out of him. As previously stated, you didn’t want a vanilla little love making session, you wanted to fuck.

“Alright then, if you’re so keen on keeping quiet,” he put his rough hands on your bare shoulders, pushing you back onto the ground, this time on your knees, “how about I stuff that mouth?” You hated how good he was at turning you on.

He pulled his dick out right in front of your face, letting it lay on his toned abs, just as you had envisioned it. It was easily 10 inches long, 5 inches thick, with a slight upturn that could drive you insane if it hit the right spots, which it would. It was flushed pink and dripping pre-cum; it was pretty.

“Well, are you just going to gawk at it or are you going to make yourself useful, slut?” The sweet pet names were out the window, swiftly replaced with the most debasing insults he could think of. To avoid any more of his smart ass remarks, you took his thick cock in your hands. You slowly stroked it, taking in exactly how big it was. You moved your plush lips closer, giving it a few small kitten licks to test the waters. You kissed the head and gave longer licks up the side, earning a grunt or two from the man above you. As you began to swirl your tongue around his tip, his strong hand came down and pushed on the back of your head. It wasn’t gentle, forcing you to take him down your throat. Considering his size, it was no shock that you choked on it at first, but he kept his hand on your hair, forcing you to stay on him.

“That’s it, sweetheart, keep that dirty mouth on fat cock.” Tears starting pooling in your eyes as you struggled to breath around his length. “Aww, are you actually crying?” He cooed, taking sick pleasure in mocking you. “How pathetic of you, darling.” His words send shockwaves of shame and pleasure down to your core. You abhorred how badly you needed him inside of you. As he let out a low moan, he pulled you off his cock, tugging your hair just enough to make you even wetter.

“Alright, angel. I’m not a big fan of blowjobs, so we’ll leave it at that.” You coughed a little as he bent down to your heaving form.

“Really? That’s a shock.” That was your genuine reaction. You were far too fucked out to be a smart ass at this point.

“Yeah, you’re not the first to make that observation.” Much to your surprise, he picked you up bridal style, barely breaking a sweat in the process of getting you to his bedroom. Though the lights were on, you couldn’t take in many details, your cock drunk state making it difficult to process anything other than the warm, bare skin of the monster you tried so hard to vanquish.

“Now, lets get these cute little panties off, hmm?” You had forgotten him taking off your pants in the heat of the moment. His menacing figure loomed overtop of you, slowly sinking down to your thighs. He placed licks and kisses all over them, leaving a few bite marks along with them. You moaned louder than before, feeling too blissed out to care about your pride. You felt large, tepid fingers hooking themselves between your legs and into your panties. He pulled them to the side, wanting to really take you in. Despite his lust for power and dominance, he much preferred giving head to receiving it, especially when it came to women and their soft, tender pussies. You were no exception to this rule.

“Goddamn you’re fucking wet.” You looked up at you, making you lean your head back to avoid his gaze. “You must like me more than you care to admit, sweetie.” Just after saying this, he ran one long finger up your dripping slit, coating his fingertip in your slick. He looked at it shimmering in the low light of the room, grinning before taking it into his mouth and tasting what your cunt had to offer.

“You taste like heaven. Surprising, considering what a nasty girl you are.” Unlike you, he could keep that smartass act up for hours on end, no matter how lost in your sex he was. He landed a chaste kiss to your throbbing heat before flattening his tongue to lick a fat stripe up the middle. He began to devour you, making the lewdest noises you had ever heard in the process. You felt amazing, and disgusting, and just about every other emotion you had ever felt in your life. He was a god at eating your pussy, feeling no remorse in having his lips and beard dripping with your juices. To hell with the burn marks he left on your thighs and the burning sense of guilt you had for moaning so loud and creaming all over the face of your greatest enemy. Shame and guilt were for foolish children with no place in the world, Zeke wanted to enjoy every last second of destroying you.

As he continued to lick and suck at your most sensitive spots, you began to feel your stomach tighten, signaling your closeness. Zeke noticed as well, taking note of your erupting moans and groans and tugs at his silky hair. He moaned on your clit, the vibrations sending you over the edge. You came all over his face, arching your back of the soft sheets and making you scream his name. He kept his lips attached to your clit as you came down from your high, keeping you ensnared in his trap of bliss.

“God, you moan like a fucking whore, you know that?” The way he insulted you felt disgustingly good, especially coming from such a obnoxiously handsome man.

“And you eat pussy like a god.” The veil of hatred came off in one foul swoop. You couldn’t hold back how you truly felt about Zeke Yeager. You were in love with the way he treated you, and spoke to you, and ate you, and soon enough, fucked you. He was so damn good, and you just hated to love and loved to hate him.

“Oh, do I now?” He let out a low chuckle, taking pride in how helpless and stupid he had made you. “Does that make me your god, pet?” It wasn’t a real question. He knew the answer, and he loved that answer: yes.

“Now, how about I partake in some earthly pleasures and fuck your brains out, sweetheart?” He questioned, moving his arms up to rest on both sides of your head. His face was right above yours, lips hovering over your breathless, panting ones.

“Yes, please.” Your eyebrows scrunched together as you grew impatient and needy as all hell. Zeke had a sinister idea. God was a nice term, but he could think of a better one.

“How about you beg daddy for it?” He was such a disgusting pervert, and he relished in it. You mustered all the strength you could in order to speak.

“Please fuck my pussy, daddy.” That was all he needed to push himself inside your tight heat. Your walls clenched as he thrusted balls deep inside of you, not caring if you needed to adjust or not. Luckily, you didn’t, despite his size.

“Fuck yes, angel. You’re so goddamn tight.” He thrusted into you with reckless abandon, using you more than making love to you, which is exactly what you both wanted. Your walls clenched and throbbed as he brought you to orgasm once again.

“Cumming all over my cock, sweetheart? Such a dirty whore.” He teased, continuing his motions, hitting your g-spot over and over again without much issue. His dick was perfect, reaching every inch of you that made you scream out in pleasure and overstimulated bliss. All of this for a few bags of cocaine and bullets. You weren’t even thinking of that as he pounded into you, getting rougher and sloppier than before. He was getting close to his own high just as you were about to reach your third. No one had ever made you feel like this. You never wanted to let him go. Fuck everyone you cared about, this was too damn good to throw away.

“Where do you want my cum, slut?” He asked seconds before climaxing.

“Wherever you want it, daddy.” That was exactly what he wanted to hear. You had been molded into the perfect toy for him, even if it was just for the moment. He had debased and perverted you, like putty in his hands. You thought you could just waltz in there and take what you wanted from him. But no, instead you were writhing around on his bed with his fat cock filling up your pussy while you screamed for your daddy. You were filthy, slutty perfection. He quickly pulled out of you and shot his cum on your stomach and chest. Noticing you were still squirming around, he pushed his thumb to your clit and rubbed circles as two of his fingers entered you and hit your sweet spot.

“Come on, slutty girl, cum for daddy.” This time felt different than the others. You were completely out of your mind with pleasure and lust, and he was hitting just the right spots. You came around his fingers, squirting your juices and ruining his sheets. As if he could sense it, he had moved his face down just in time for it to reach his mouth, coating yet another layer of your cum on his beard. He licked his lips, savoring you taste and the blissed out, fuck drunk look on your face. He wished he could keep you like this forever. No, he would make sure to keep you like this forever. You were going to be his for the rest of time, no matter what it took. Even if he had to play the long game and pretend you had a choice in the matter.

“Well, sweetheart, I’m afraid you have to go home empty handed. I’m sure those tarts will just pat you on the head and congratulate you for trying your best. That’s why they’ll never surpass me, and that’s why you will come crawling back to me.” You couldn’t respond, too disappointed and drained to say a word.

“I have a shower that I recommend you use.” He looked down at you, your eyes hazy and barely focused on him. You were completely exposed to him. You looked beautiful. “In an act of civility, I’ll let you sleep here tonight. On a different bed, of course, considering the damage you’ve done.” You laughed at that, and he followed suite.

“You know Zeke, for a monster, you’re not too bad.” You looked at him, admiration clear in your eyes.

“You’re not too unbearable either.”

#aot smut #snk smut #zeke yeager smut #zeke jeager x reader #zeke yeager x reader #zeke jeager smut #tw: drug use #tw: alcohol

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sweetwritertanya · 4 years

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Nothing To Be Jealous About (Jungkook)

A/N: Hello everyone! I’m here to announce a new BTS series that I am starting! I had this idea to make a ‘jealous series’ with the boys a long time ago and it felt right to do it now. I had this idea for Jungkook’s story and I just had to write it. I don’t know if the others will get a fic as long as this one, but we’ll see! Hope you all enjoy it!

Edit: This is also my first ever moodboard or however you call it for one of my fics! Because I always have a outfit in mind for both the reader and the member, I thought it made sense to add a moodboard. I don’t think I’ll do it for all of my fics, but I’ll try with this series. Tell me what you think! Should I keep doing it? Does it help as you read? Also, big thanks to @tipsydipsydo for her guidance when I asked about her own moodboards! She’s a cutiepie!

Summary: For the first time since you started working out, you go to the gym with Jungkook. Afraid for how he would feel seeing someone your size exercising, his reaction turns out to be what you least expected from him.

Warnings: SMUT!!! Do be prepared for: swearing, erotic body touching, marking, oral (female receiving), protected sex (trying to make it a more common thing in this blog), rough sex, sex on the floor, missionary position, a bit of a possessive Jungkook, but he gets softer and sweeter by the end.

Word Count: 3280

You knew it would be a bad idea to go with Jungkook to the gym, which was why you always came up with excuses to avoid it. For months and months, you had been going alone to the gym, purposely on a different schedule from your boyfriend. However, turns out that the reasons you shouldn’t have gone to the gym with Jungkook were a lot different than what you had assume.

Naturally, in your head, the main reason for preferring to go alone was because you didn’t want him to see you exercising. Being a big girl that only recently started to work out for health benefits, to say you would be embarrassed of him witnessing your routine would be an understatement. There would be sweat, there would be tears, there would be a flushed bare face and dirty hair that you had no intentions of him ever seeing.

But, as you found out, life had an ironic sense of humor. Unable to find a reason to deny Jungkook’s invitation this time, you were currently doing push-ups as your trainer guided you, loudly counting as you went, numbers getting further and further apart from how slow you were going due to how tired you were.

You had asked him to start your training on the opposite side of the room from where Jungkook was, hoping that would somehow make him forget you were even there and not see your humiliating state. As you got up and the huge muscular man in front of you asked you to get ready to start the much-hated burpees, you cast a glance towards the younger man, perplexed when you saw his state.

Jungkook was not working out at all. He was sitting at the seated arm curl, two heavy dumbbells on the ground next to his feet. That on itself was confusing, since he took his training at the gym very seriously and would only stop to catch his breath. Yet, it looked as if he hadn’t even started exercising. The most shocking part was the way he was staring at you. No, actually, he was rather glaring at your personal trainer.

Bushy sharp eyebrows furrowed deeply, lines scrunching his button nose, pouting lips pulled down and usually sweet doe eyes turned dark and angry, round shape lost as he squinted heatedly at the man in front of you. Your trainer tapped your arm to catch your attention again, asking if you were ready to continue. You look back at Jungkook only to realize he had completely looked away, picked up the dumbbells and started lifting them, a bit too speedily if you had to say.

Still unsure of what was going on, you actually told him that you were done for the day. Taking a few sips of water and cleaning your sweaty face with a towel, you hesitantly walk towards Jungkook, who was now seemingly focused on what he was doing, not sparing a look your way when you approached him.

“Hey, Kook, I’m done for the day” you inform him, stopping a few feet from his right.

“Yeah? You sure your trainer doesn’t mind?” he dryly asks, not stopping his movements or regarding you at all, confusing you further.

“I… I stopped earlier than usual, actually… James probably would have wanted me to go on for a while longer.” You tried to ignore that pang in your heart that told you Jungkook was judging you, that he was offended you only worked out this much. That he expected more from you.

“James? You’re even on a first name basis…” he puffs in frustration.

Jungkook places the dumbbells he was using down and turns his head the other way from you, elbows rested on top of his knees, hands clutching together and foot tapping persistently on the ground. You realize it then. It creeps up on you, the realization that left your mouth hanging open in incredulity.

“Wait… Are you… Are you jealous, Kook?” The skepticism was evident in your voice.

The boy stands up suddenly, looking at you as if you’re crazy, but his body language spoke volumes. He crossed his arms, eyebrows still pulled together, cheeks puffed and lips in a pout, weight shifting from foot to foot. A hurt look behind his avoiding eyes.

“Oh my God, you are!” And you actually chuckle at that, not only from how ridiculous that sounded to you, but from the pure relief washing over you at that notion. You were not the one bothering him, your personal trainer was. Not that he would confess it any time soon.

“No, I’m not! I am, however, done for today. Let’s go.”

He basically stomps away, making a bee-line for the male dressing rooms while you made way into the woman’s one. You would be lying if it didn’t feel flattering knowing such a good-looking man like Jungkook could grow jealous because of you. There was a stupid grin on your face that you just couldn’t wipe off.

You stayed silent the ride home, trying to hide your smile from Jungkook’s view so as to not distract him while he was driving. But you couldn’t help the glances you threw his way, curious as to what brought this jealousy up. As far as you know, your personal trainer remained very professional with you, there was no flirting going on at all.

Once home, Jungkook crashed down on the sofa in the living room, ready to spend the rest of the day playing video games and ignoring you. But of course, you wouldn’t let the misunderstanding go on any longer.

“Jungkook, why the hell are you like this? There is nothing to be jealous about!” you reassure coming to stand in front of him, between the sofa and the screen of the television. He opens his mouth in upcoming defiance, obviously about to deny it yet again, but you don’t let him. “And don’t tell me you are not. I know you, Kook. Now, let’s talk about it. Or do you wanna be mad forever?”

It’s your turn to cross your arms over your chest and lean you head to the side as you lift one of your eyebrows, awaiting his response. The boy looks down, thinking about your words, before sighing and leaning back on the couch, hands fidgeting on his lap and looking away to the side.

“You’re the one keeping things from me” he accuses, albeit in a small voice.

“What? I’m not” you defend yourself, baffled.

“Now I know why you always avoided going with me to the gym. You didn’t want me to see you with your personal trainer. Oh, sorry, is ‘James’, isn’t it?” Still not looking at you, the sulking boy almost spits the name, vexed.

Finally understanding, even if his conclusion was a bit of a stretch, you feel for him. You kneel down on the carpet in front of him, catching his hands on yours and making him look at you. Once he does, still suspicious, you just smile warmly up at him.

“Kook, I was embarrassed of you seeing me in the gym. It had nothing to do with that guy” you explain patiently. “Honestly, did you notice how I look when I go to the gym? No one will be interested in this!” You point at yourself, fat, in comfortable but unflattering workout clothes and with no make-up on.

“Stop it. I saw the way he looked at you. I saw him taking advantage and touching you” he accused, plump bottom lip puckering further.

“Touch? Were you seeing things? He never touched me” you countered, shaking your head.

That’s when Jungkook launches forward, grabbing you by the shoulders and making you yelp in surprise as you lean back and somehow end up lying flat on the carpet. Before you can even process what was going on, he latches his mouth to the side of your neck and sucks on the skin harshly, for sure leaving a bruise. You hiss at the pain, but can’t deny the fact that it sent jolts straight to your core, your skin hyper sensitive to his abusing lips.

“Right here while you were doing crunches” he barks, voice still small but irradiating bitterness.

“Wha…?” Your brain still jumbled, you just vaguely stare up at him as you try to remember anything of the sort. You recalled your trainer having to help you going up on the last few crunches, one hand leveraging at the base of your neck.

Before you could ask him if that was what he was referring to, Jungkook leans back down and does the same treatment to your left arm, actually biting down with his teeth just enough to leave the small indentation of his teeth on the first layer of your skin.

“And right here, obviously trying to get your attention.” The memory of that seems to leave him even more infuriated, deep frustrating line scrunching the bridge of his nose and jawline tensing up tremendously. His big round eyes settle on yours with intensity and you lose your voice for a moment. “But you’re mine, right? You are my girl, my girlfriend, no one else’s, right?”

You nod your head, still in absolute disbelief that this gorgeous human being hoovering above you had any doubts about that. Your hands sooth the skin of his strong arms that were holding him up, words finally coming to you again.

“Of course, Kook. I’m all yours, always will be” you promise, trying to convey your honesty through your eyes.

“I’ll prove it to them. Leave my marks all over your body so they can see it.”

The rasp on his usual sweet voice had you swallowing dry and heat pools at your center. Damn, he was so hot like this. And then he actually takes actions to his words and pulls your t-shirt up, revealing your stomach that he launches for and nips and sucks on the flesh, deep bites and squeezes of his hands that you no doubt would see the next day. You jeer, but the pain mixes with pleasure and the noises that come out start sounding more like moans than anything.

And then he moves further down, avid hands grabbing at the fabric of your sweatpants and pulling them down your thick thighs, leaving them bare for him. Nuzzling comfortably between your legs, he takes no time pull at the meat of your fluffy inner thighs, sucking from just above your knee to the junction of where your leg meets your pelvis. Your whole body feels like it’s overheating and your heart hammers in your chest, each hickey closer to your womanhood leaving more and more wet. But then he focuses on your other leg, lifting your knee and leaving another trail up that thigh, completely ignoring how needy you were.

“K-Kook!” you plea, your hands grasping at the ones clawing your hips, begging them silently. “Please.”

Your hips are stuttering, moving out of their own accord in search of any kind of relief for the hellish crave staining your panties. Never one to deny you of anything your asked, Jungkook holds down your hips with sprawled hands putting pressure on your lower belly as he mouthed your pussy over the cotton fabric. You scream because it’s relieving and not enough at all. Even through the cloth, Jungkook finds your engorged clit and doesn’t hesitate to suck on it too, making you wail and arch your back off the ground, head falling back and eyes closing at the maddening feeling.

The bastard stays like that for a while, driving your absolute mad, giving you just enough to drive you to the edge and still not nearly enough to send your over. Your panties are absolutely drenched in a mix of your juices and his saliva, and you try to close your legs around his head in hopes to keep him there long enough for you to reach any kind of satisfaction, but being the strong man that he was, Jungkook easily parts your legs away and crawls back up your body, sculptural face hoovering mere inches from yours.

You open your eyes to see his full black ones, veiled with unmasked desire and lust, puffy cheeks red and lips swollen from all of their work on you. Fuck, he looked so heavenly like this.

“Now they’ll know, if they dare come this near to you. That you are already taken. That you are mine to hold and kiss and fuck. Right?”

You are not sure how he manages, but he sounds both possessive and insecure at the same time, obviously determined to let anyone know you were his but still uncertain enough to always ask for your confirmation. Smiling, you take his face in your hands and pull him in for a much awaited kiss after your response.

“Absolutely right.”

You are the one who pulled him in, but he is the one desperate, frantic in the kiss, claiming your lips violently and deepening it so his tongue scans every small inch of your mouth, as if making sure it was just as he remembered. Locking your hands behind his neck, you respond in what you hope is a similar way, passing on all the love and comfort you could in this one long toe-curling kiss.

Amongst everything, you could not be sure when he did it, but as you latched your bulky legs around his lean waist and pulled him in, you find that he was already undressed from the waist down. His thick, throbbing member was pressed against the stained panties still left as a barrier.

Resting in one arm, holding him up, Jungkook’s free hand roams down your curvaceous body and fingers hook around the side of your underwear, at the same time he whispers a question in your ear with a hoarse voice.

“Pill?”

“All good” you eagerly reply, letting him know you had been careful and it should be okay.

Panties bunched up around your left ankle, Jungkook rubs his cock between your folds in a few strokes, working you both up and coating himself. But you were already so worked up and sexually frustrated that you clawed at his magnificent muscular ass and pulled him closer, at the same time your hips thrusted upwards into him. Failing to get him where you wanted, you growl.

“Now, Jungkook! I need you now!” you exclaim.

“Yeah, I want to hear you scream my name, baby. My name only” he encourages in a pleased tone.

Suddenly, two hands grab your legs from the back of your knee and hoists them up until you are basically bent in half, thighs pressed against your breasts. One swift movement of his hips and Jungkook impales you with his dick, the first thrust strong and deep and succulent. You moan loudly from relief, your clenching walls finally clinging on to something, finally stretched in the most pleasant of ways. Even with the white noise settling in and your own whine still ringing in the air, you still hear the tale-end of Jungkook’s own groan, hands still holding your legs up and kneeling with his pelvis pressed against yours, back standing stiff and eyes closed, lips slightly parted. He was obviously needing this as much as you.

Doe eyes slit open to meet with yours and he bents down over you, reaching for your lips and kissing you at the same time he starts moving. You hold on to his shoulders, but the pace grows quicker and quicker until it’s borderline punishing and you scream out at how good it feels, the way his cock drags at that fast pace against your inner walls, the tip kissing the end of that carnal tunnel and hitting that deep spot that makes you see stars behind your eyes. You let go of his lips in favor of screaming his name next to his ear and he continues the inhumane pace.

“That’s it. Scream my name. Scream it” he cheers on, his own voice stuttering at the focus to keep himself in check. “Scream it loud as you cum around me, love.”

The pressure deep in your womb was building rapidly with each rapid ramming. Jungkook was sweating and flushed red from head to toe, breathing heavily and closing his eyes in search of self-control. He rests your legs on his shoulder as he uses his hands to ground himself and procced to pound his cock even deeper and quicker, that being all you needed due to the added stimulation of his navel against your clit with each motion, turning your body into and absolute explosion of pleasure.

“Ah, ahh… JUNGKOOK!”

The walls of your pussy clang to him in and sucked him in to hit your cervix over and over, intensifying the orgasm as he continued the movements until he himself couldn’t bare it no more and got off on your dripping cunt, eyes screwed shut and mouth parted as he whimpered breathily through it.

Body shuddering and still buried to the bream, Jungkook collapses against you and your legs fall off his shoulders. Trying to keep him in place, you cross your ankles around his waist and throw your arms around his shoulder, both trying to catch your breaths and proper connection to reality. As your body calmed down and temperature returned to normal, you already had the inkling your but would be suffering from a slight friction rash against the carpet. But you would just add it to the bruises Jungkook’s mouth had left and count it as totally worth it.

“Chuory” Jungkook babbles against your shoulder, the fabric of your t-shirt muffling his voice and making it hard to understand what he said.

“What’s that, Kook?”

He lifts his head and rests his upper weight on his forearms, bottom half still very much attached to yours. He looks more like himself now, sweet and kind instead of bitter and angry. In fact, he looked at you almost apologetic.

“I’m sorry I got so jealous. I don’t know what came over me.”

You smile and peck at his worried lips.

“No worries. I’m surprise you could even get jealous when it came to someone like me” you confess, in a humorous tone.

“You are incredibly attractive, Y/N. I saw how that guy was looking at you. And he was so built and strong and… I got scared you would be taken away from me.”

You immediately shake your hand, reaching out for the young boy’s face that was filled with apprehension and anxiety. Holding his face, you make him look at you seriously.

“Never. I would never, Jungkook. I love you. I don’t care if the universe flips and suddenly all the men on this earth suddenly want me, I will always, always love you. Just you.”

He releases a heavy sight and you can almost feel the relief washing over him, the weight that as lifted his shoulders. At last, he smiles brightly and it reaches is eyes in the cutest of ways and you heart sings in response.

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful tone.

“Really. Now, mister, because of this silly fit, I ended my workout too early. It’s your responsibility” you warn him, wandering if he would get it.

“Hum? Do you want to go back? I can help you if- Ahh…!” The way he started made you sure he was not getting what you were hinting at so, to enlighten him, you clench your walls around his flaccid member that hardens in immediate response. Jungkook almost chokes.

“I was thinking more of a home workout.”

“M-my… My pleasure” he readily assures.

#bts chubby reader #bts chubby!reader #bts x chubby reader #BTS jungkook #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts smut #plus size reader #kpop smut #kpop fluff #bts fluff #kpop plus size

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silhouetteofacedar · 3 years

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When We Drive, Ch. 9: Alarm Clocks, Discretion, and Shared Soap

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, Rated M

George Washington Memorial Parkway, Alexandria, Virginia

8:57 AM EST

April 14, 2000

For the first time, she stayed.

Mulder’s still a little drunk off the feeling of waking up with Scully in his bed. He’s intoxicated by the memory of her small hands traversing his naked body, the way she pulled him into her in the first slivers of dawn peeking through the blinds. They’ve had sex a few times, and each time she left before he woke up. But not last night, not this morning.

No, this time she stayed all night, and Mulder feels recklessly as though life couldn’t get any better.

Except that they fell back asleep and missed the alarm.

Now he's leadfooting it on the G.W. Parkway, with a very agitated Scully practically vibrating in the passenger seat.

Scully glances at her watch and groans. “Three minutes to nine, Mulder,” she warns. “This is bad.” She brings her forearm closer to her face and sniffs. “And I smell like your soap,” she adds.

“Mhmm,” he agrees, leaning towards her slightly and inhaling deeply. “And it suits you.”

“Stop smelling me and just drive, please,” she replies tightly, rummaging through her bag. “Jesus, how did we both miss the alarm? I never oversleep and you don’t sleep.”

“I’ve actually been sleeping pretty well lately,” Mulder says with a grin. “You’ve been wearing me out, Scully.” He glances at her and sees a pretty blush blooming on her cheeks. “I’ve never felt this good in my entire life.”

“Don’t be sweet with me,” Scully orders. “I’m trying very hard to not be attracted to you right now.”

“How’s it working for you?” Mulder prompts slyly.

Scully ignores the question. “We’ve been careful, discreet,” she laments. “We had a plan.”

Mulder huffs out a laugh. “I doubt we’re as discreet as we think we are,” he points out. “There’ve been rumors for years. For everyone else this is probably going to be old news.”

“Regardless,” Scully counters, pulling down the passenger side mirror and uncapping a lipstick, “I would prefer if it weren’t any kind of news, for our private life to stay private. Arriving late together is just… blatant.”

“Are you ashamed?” Mulder asks, glancing at her.

“My level of shame the morning after directly corresponds to how good the sex was the night before,” she murmurs, words misshapen as she dabs on lipstick while she talks. “So it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Except that we have an unfortunately timed meeting with Skinner at 9:30 and I smell like you.”

“Just don’t let him get close enough to get a whiff, and it’ll be fine. It could be worse, Scully; we at least got to shower. After all that-”

Scully shakes her head. “Mulder, I can’t even think about last night-”

“And this morning,” he adds.

She gives him a pleading look. “Please, let’s be as neutral and distant as possible without raising suspicion,” she says in a low tone. “If you so much as touch me I’m going to fall apart.”

Mulder grips the steering wheel tighter. “Then I’m going to have to ask you not to use that voice with me,” he counters.

“What voice?” she asks, brows furrowing.

“That voice. God, it’s such a turn-on, Scully,” he confesses. He feels suddenly feverish, hears echoes of the sounds she made in his bed in the small hours of the morning.

“My voice is my voice,” she sputters, “I can’t just change it.” She slumps in the passenger seat, smoothing her hair with her hands. “We’re a fucking mess, Mulder,” she sighs.

“It’s gonna be fine,” he assures her, absently laying a hand on her knee before pulling back quickly. “Sorry,” he says.

“How did we survive seven years?” Scully marvels.

“In my case, visual aids,” Mulder says.

“Oh I am very aware of that,” Scully quips. “You weren’t exactly subtle about it. I could have- should have- had you reprimanded. Or fired.”

“So why didn’t you?” Mulder asks, a little sheepishly.

Scully shrugs. “I liked you,” she admits. “Or it’s Stockholm Syndrome. Either way, you’re a lucky man.”

“A-fucking-men to that,” Mulder swears, smiling at her. She looks pretty put together for someone who fucked all night and went for another round the next morning.

“Hey, Scully, it’s gonna be fine,” he says softly. “You’re the most professional and focused person I know. So what if we’re a little late today? Nobody will suspect a thing.”

“And if they do?” she counters.

He shrugs. “Well, you look fantastic, so just chalk it up to jealousy.”

She shakes her head, but there’s a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“So,” Mulder says once they’re parked in the Hoover Building garage, “One kiss before we face the hoards of nosy federal employees?”

“Mulder, our meeting is in fifteen minutes,” Scully reminds him. “And we can’t both wear this lipstick.” She gathers up her briefcase and purse and gets out of the car, taking a single steadying breath before turning and walking briskly towards the elevators.

Mulder drops his head back against the headrest, eyes caught in the cadence of her hips as she stalks away.

She owns him in mind, body, and soul; yet he wonders if she even knows.

#my fic #when we drive #msr #txf fic #xfiles #the morning after #hell yeah buddy they fuuuuuuuuucked

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natromanxoff · 3 years

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19 - The Dynamic Duo V Montreux

Hello folks. I was sitting around twiddling my thumbs and I thought I would give the old hard drive a clean up, so before I dump a load of rubbish I thought I'd better answer these before I throw everything in the recycle bin. Let's start with a lady from New Jersey who goes by the name of Dorothy who gave me a very interesting offer for the next time I'm in New York. If you're reading this Dorothy, could you send Jacky your email address so I can reply to you. I've just opened up a "secret" Hotmail account so I can send replies without pestering the lovely Mrs Smith all the time, and to test it I went to the guestbook and picked a few names at random. Maybe I should reply to the irate drummer, but if I do that he'll just reply to me and the girls in the office will miss out on laughing at him as well. Staying with the skin bashers for a mo, Ron Hansen in Madison is a drummer, and said he liked my jokes and reckons Mr Irate uses three sticks, two in his hands and one up his arse (his words not mine). Would I be correct in saying your a Zep fan Ron? Today's question is, "What do you get if you cross a drummer with a roadie?" The answer is a stupid roadie.

Moving on, last time around I mentioned a drink which we consumed in Brazil, and the charming Sonia and Dina informed me it was called Caipirinha, and a pleasant little tipple it was to. Somewhere in Australia there is a lady called Karen who is listening to the Offspring CD non-stop, so I'm gonna have to try and answer her question as she has such great musical tastes, even though she wants to know the..........(flashing lights, fireworks, drum roll) Hoover Salesman Story. ARGHHHH. Its actually a very short tale, and I think it's quiet boring but it seems to have grown in stature over the years, and as always I'm gonna drag it out and start from the first skiing expedition that I ventured on with RT.

Having checked my trendy little biog mag, I reckon the year is 1980, and the dynamic duo are in Montreux putting the finishing touches to Fun in Space and we have a few days off before a tour starts in Zurich when Rog says, "Let's go skiing." He had skied a few times before and was ok at it, but I had never put a pair of skis on in my life. I said, "Lets go, but you ski and I'll just get pissed." He then went on about what a buzz it is and how I would love it, etc. As we were touring soon our American crew had to fly out, so I called up Jim Devenney and told him to come over a couple of days earlier cause we were gonna ski. Jim is a great skier and was on the first flight available and I picked him up at Geneva airport ready for some fun. That night we hit the town and have too many drinks and Rog goes off to bed semi early, while Jim and myself sat out on the jetty of Duckingham Palace with a ghetto blaster, Derek and Clive tapes, and a vat of wine singing disgusting songs at full blast, which must have echoed over to France. Suddenly we hear a French voice screaming at us and we have no idea what he was saying so we carried on goofing around, and the next thing I hear is a huge splash as Devenney falls in.

Let me assure you that a drunk trying to get a drunk out of Lake Geneva is not an easy task, but we succeed and head back to DP and retire to our rooms. I'd just got into bed when I hear a crash and go to investigate, only to find JD had gone in the wrong room and was trying to get into a baby's cot, and getting him out of there was harder than getting him of the lake.

Next day Roger, Dave Richards, his wife Collette, Jim and myself set off to Zermatt, and on arrival we stock up on skis, passes and other skiing paraphernalia (big words now!) Dinner, drinks and off to bed. Next morning we're up and ready to go, and thinking I'll never ski again after this I refuse to waste money on a ski suit, so I wear jeans. My second wrong move, the first was agreeing to go. The hotel owner wouldn't let us leave the hotel without first drinking a couple of Sambuccas, not my idea of a good breakfast, eggs, bacon, tea, toast and Italian liqueurs, but who are we to refuse. Next I've got to try and walk in those godamn boots, and we eventually arrive at the top of the Matterhorn.

The OK skiers, RT and Dave set off on their own, Collette begins a very slow trip down while JD tells me he'll stay and teach me. On go the skis, and down I go, flat on my arse. Up I get and I'm off, for all of about 2ft before I'm down again. This is not any fun. After a couple more tumbles my great mate Jim said, "If you're gonna f*** around I'm going." And thats the last I saw of him all day. Thanks pal. I'm standing there watching people ski and think, "It can't be that hard. If you stand like this, lean like that, you can ski." So I stand and lean in the correct positions and I'm away, screeching down a mountain with only one very small problem, I have no idea how to turn or stop, so as I'm flying past Collette, and she reckons I looked very worried, I yelled for some advice and all she said was, "DIVE." Sound advice, so thats what I do, and by now I'm getting wet. I wait for her and then we set off together, the blind leading the blind, with me diving at the slightest bit of speed or bend in the piste. A million years later we eventually reach the bottom of this awful slope and it's finally over. Wrong. Theres a T-bar to get on so we wait in line till it's our turn. You're supposed to put the bar just under your bum and it drags you up, but I'm 6ft and Collettes about 5ft 5in, so the bar was either in the middle of her back or around my knees, and no one told me not to sit on the f***ing thing and we bounced around for a while until we fell off. I'm now getting really pissed off with all this, "Get me a helicopter," I demanded from Collete. She told me they don't just send them, you have to be hurt. I replied with, "I'll break my f***ing arm but I've gotta get off this mountain." Realising I'm not getting a copter I light a ciggie and ponder.

We agree to split up and go with someone our own height, so I ended up with a great German guy who was really helpful. Once on the T-bar I can see that it goes way up and I would have to ski back down to base camp, and in case you've forgotten, I can't ski, so I said that I was gonna bail out, and jumped off. I then head of in a straight line to the cable car, skis on the shoulder and wading through 3ft of snow in a pair of very heavy and very cold jeans. What seemed like hours of wading I make civilisation and head to the bar for a triple strength coffee and a triple scotch while everyone gawked at me cause I looked like I had a shower fully clothed. Yeah, I wanna do this again.

Dinner that night was great fun for the others cause they got to take the piss out of me. Their day will come. The rest of the nights activities shall remain sealed away, but a good time was had by one and all. The tour went smoothly and I try and put Zermatt behind me, except Collette, still to this day, takes great delight in telling everyone about it, and everytime she says it she makes me look more and more pathetic.

The next winter appears and I'm at home and the phone rings, "CT, wanna go skiing?" To which my reply was nothing like, "Oh I'd love to you fabulous little drummer boy." I can't believe he talked me into it again, but this time we were gonna do things correctly and go to Aviemore in Scotland and take lessons, this was the saving factor in his plan. So once again we pile into the Range Rover and aim north. We split the driving (for a change) and had a good journey up through the snow covered mountains till we get to the resort. A usual night was on the cards, dinner, drinks and bed, then up bright and early for some lessons and a good day on the slopes. This time we've both got the correct outfits so we head off to where our little group of idiot skiers are. We're all standing in a line, with Rog and me at the end, and each person gets to snow-plough a few feet. These clowns have less idea than my first try, and it's also incredibly cold and we've now got icicles hanging off our hair. It's our turn and we both look like olympic champions, but the only thing wrong with getting it right the first time is that the instructor then turns his attentions back to the start of the line. Here I am once again standing on the top of a mountain, freezing cold with two 'things' stuck on the end of a pair of stupid boots, and I inform His Royal Highness that the next trip away involves sand and sun, no excuses, end of argument. RT agreed that this wasn't much fun and thought my idea worth considering.

We finally heard the two magic words, "Lunch Break." We're gone in search of some good HOT food and a nice beaujolais, and we found both. We also found that the hotel bar had an amazing selection of whisky, and we had to try as many as possible. We're now semi pissed and decide that as we're warm we might as well go back to this lesson even though we are very late, and the instructor looked at us and said, "Where have you two been?" Rog came back with "Trying lots of your wonderful scotch's." He was fine with that answer and we carried on trying to learn something, and would you believe by the end of the day I could actually turn and stop.

Back to the hotel for a nap before dinner. Over a very nice meal and a couple of little drinkettes we agree that it's far to cold here and we'll clear off the next day, so into the bar we go with our earlier mission of trying all the scotch's. We were sitting at a table chatting away and cracking jokes with each other and end up talking to the couple on the next table, swapping skiing stories, needless to say mine were very short, and having a bit of a laugh, when the woman said, "What do you two do for a living?" God knows why, but I said; "We're Hoover salesmen." At first they didn't believe us but we both started going on about the difference between domestic and industrial cleaners, uprights, backpack types, ones you pull along the floor. We went on about the different wattage, suction power, the amount of pressure on Axminsters and Wilton carpets, even a couple of car expressions like overhead this and thats. What the hell do we know about vacuum cleaners? But boy are we good at this. After about 30 mins of utter bullshit the subject finally changed and they wished us all the best with our door to door salesmanship and off they went to bed. We then had to reassure each other what we actually did for a living, had some more drinks and tried to work out how we knew so much about cleaners as both of us have spent most of our lives trying to stay well away from them. We spent the drive back to London having a good laugh about the one day we spent in a Scottish ski resort.

Well that's it folks, the story of a small company, R & C Taylor,..... Hoover Salesmen. I did learn to ski quite well, and whilst in Gstadd doing the Shove it album Spike flew out cause he fancied learning to ski, and the fool asked me to teach him. I wasn't much help because everytime he fell over I burst out laughing cause I kept seeing myself in Zermatt, and Spike looked just as worried and stupid as I did.

Before I go I noticed that Jacky had to get her boiler fixed and said for me not to make a comment, but little things like that spark me off and I remembered that when we were recording in the Townhouse Studios I had a little, no a big affair with the studio chef. Every three months Virgin would do a magazine for all their staff, written by all the heads of various departments, airlines, studios, video, shops, films, etc. and they would say what was going on with their particular section. Alan Douglas, who was chief engineer of all Virgin studios wrote who was recording where, and he wrote, "Queen are in studio 4, and Crystal, their main man is stoking the kitchen boiler." I thought that was hilarious, but Jane went ballistic. That's it for now.

Loadsa luv Crystal (Carpet cleaner to the stars)

#oh i suppose i forgot to queue this!#queen #queen band #roger taylor #roger meddows taylor #spike edney #crystal taylor #crystal's tales

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snackhobi · 4 years

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pairing: min yoonji x reader / word count: 9.7k / genre: f x f smut, assassin!au

summary: a fic inspired by this post and that’s pretty much it-

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), talk about death/assassination (nothing graphic dw! but they are assassins, so), mild violence, unnecessarily sexually charged lipstick application, face riding, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral (f giving/receiving), use of restraints, overstimulation, squirting, kind of dom!yoonji?

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic I wrote as a gift to myself for my bday, it’s a lil rushed bc I wanted it done for today! women are so very beautiful and I am so very weak, thank you ladies for all being so amazing ily. this was meant to be a short pwp and now it’s almost 10k but I have no regrets bye

la petite mort French literal meaning: ‘the little death’; also an expression used to refer to the brief loss or weakening of consciousness, specifically the sensation of orgasm as likened to death; an orgasm.

“It’s just unacceptable.”

The woman in front of you is clearly wealthy. Her dark hair is perfectly styled and her pale nails are perfectly shaped and her subtle makeup is perfectly flattering; she’s starting to get older but rather than shy away from it, she’s leaning into it, and she looks almost imperious in her beauty, eyes sharp and set of her lips severe. Park Dahye was born into wealth and has clearly thrived in the life that she’s been afforded.

“Mmhm.” You try not to yawn.

“He’s flitting around with some young, silly thing on his arm, with no consideration for the family’s reputation— my reputation,” she continues. Her posture is perfect, from the set of her spine to her crossed legs to her folded hands that rest on her knee, somehow demure and yet highlighting all of her beauty and riches; the jewellery on her wrists and fingers, the expensive heels on her feet, the slit of her haute-couture dress, no doubt tailored for her and her alone. “I’ve already spoken to him about his behaviour, but he’s just ignored my warnings. We may have agreed on the divorce but we’re currently still husband and wife— has he no shame?”

“Awful.” You don’t even try to hide how bored you are, but Dahye is so quietly incensed that she doesn’t even notice as she launches into the next part of her queenly diatribe, and you muffle a sigh.

That’s the problem with rich clients. Sure, they’re willing to fork over stupid amounts of money to you, but they also think that their issues are of paramount significance— like they’re the centre of the universe and their problems are the only important ones in the world. Like you’re interested in what they have to say. Like this is the only job you’ll ever do that holds real weight or meaning.

For them, it’s a life-changing (life-ending) decision.

For you? It’s another Tuesday.

“Yes, yes, that’s just so terrible, gosh, I don’t know how you manage it,” you say once she pauses to take a breath, using the opportunity to cut her off before she launches into another part of her articulate rant. “Anyway. Would you prefer if his death was embarrassing or quiet?”

For the first time since you’ve met, she seems unsettled. “Pardon?”

Namjoon is much better with people than you, smooth and charming with his boyish dimples. Normally any discussions would go through your handler, but this woman had demanded to meet you personally and had been willing to pay for the privilege: so here you are, with your relative bluntness instead of Joon’s winsome smile.

“You know,” you say, gesturing with your hands. “When they find the body. Do you want him to be caught with his trousers around his ankles—literally or figuratively, that’s up to you— or would you rather it seemed like something natural and unpredictable? Like a sudden heart attack in his sleep, for example.”

When it comes to rich clients, a lot of it is about reputation. When someone’s shuffled off this mortal coil, it’s not just that they’re removed from the equation, it’s also about the ripples that their death leaves in the high society that they’ve lived in. Does she want her (soon-to-be) ex-husband made a mockery of, or does she just want him out of the picture?

She can’t see your face, behind your mask as it is, but you can see hers in perfect clarity. For all that Dahye seems put together and almost impassive, you see the tiny flicker in her eyes. Ah. She’s not just mad because he’s ruining their reputation. She’s hurt.

Man, that sucks. Honestly you bet it’s easier being an assassin than a rich housewife. At least when it comes to backstabbing you can literally involve a knife to sort your problems out. (Well, knives are messy, but you get the picture.)

“I’d prefer something quiet,” she decides. “I’d worry that it could lead back to me, otherwise.”

You’d be offended at the idea that you’d leave any trace that could implicate anyone or that this man’s sudden death was in any way suspicious, but she’s paying you enough that you find that you don’t care. You take pride in your work, but for the amount of zeroes involved in the fee you’re being paid, you think you can take an unintentional insult or two. Or three. Or ten.

You like money, what can you say.

“Sure thing,” you say, giving her a lazy, two fingered salute. You’ve been reclining against the desk of the hotel suite, flicking the complimentary, heavy metal pen between your fingers, twirling it like the world’s most underwhelming baton. You straighten up and let the pen drop back into the pen pot—wait, no, of course it’s a handmade porcelain jar, an alarmingly well-made Joseon porcelain replica. Everything in here stinks of money. “RM will confirm where the money is to be deposited. Half of it now as collateral, and half upon completion of the job,” you say. “If you change your mind between now and then, we’ll be keeping the original 50%, but if for some reason something goes awry, you’ll receive that money back. Sound good?”

She seems surprised at your directness. “I—”

“Fabulous!” You clap your hands together, although the sound is muffled by your gloves. You’re not about to leave your fingerprints everywhere, geez. “Alright, time for me to skidaddle I suppose! I’ve got work to be doing, people to be watching, men to be killing!”

Dahye flinches imperceptibly, but by this point you’ve already slipped out onto the balcony and into the night.

Being an assassin is hard work.

Technically, everyone has the capacity to kill another human being. But killing as a job involves a lot more than just caving someone’s head in with a rock—that’s why Cain isn’t referred to as an assassin, what with how he’d just bashed his brother Abel with a convenient stone that happened to be lying nearby. He was just a straight up dick.

No, when you kill professionally you need to be familiar with an array of different techniques, each one far more sophisticated than the last. You need to know how to be stealthy, how to blend in as you watch your target, how to set up the scenes of their death in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion. Or, instead, how to set the scene up in a way that lets any onlookers know that this person had been offed by someone who knew what they were doing, and knew it well. There's a difference between being a killer and being an assassin and you are firmly in the latter category.

So, if your client wants her husband to be shuffled off quietly, then that’s what she’ll get.

They really have pulled out all the stops for this charity gala. Everything is shining, glittering and bright: the surroundings, the food, the people. Especially the people. The rich elite have come together for an extravagant and exquisite night of ostentation and luxury, all in the name of raising money for some needy cause. (You try not to think of the irony and/or hypocrisy behind that.)

It’s almost laughable how easy it is to blend in here. Namjoon had secured (forged) invitations for you both, and so you hang off his arm as you make a slow sweep of the room, trailing unnoticed after your target. You’re not planning to make a move right now but you want to feel out exactly what he’s like: the more information you have about the person you’ve been contracted to assassinate, the better.

Plus it’s an excuse to dress up nice and eat free food— though that last part is mainly Namjoon.

“God, these canapés are so good,” Namjoon moans quietly to you, hoovering up the flaky pastry crumbs from his fingers with single-minded intent. You dig your fingers subtly into his arm.

“I thought we agreed on not eating tonight, Joon,” you mutter to him, although you say it with a beatific smile in case anyone is watching; the place is heaving with people but you’re always on guard. (Even if Namjoon is right. The hors d’oeuvres that are on offer do look incredibly tempting.)

“You have a glass of champagne,” he points out.

“And you may have noticed that I haven’t drunk any of it.” You titter, as if he’s just told a funny joke, and lightly slap his arm. Again, you’re fairly certain no one is watching, but you can never be too careful. “It’s all about creating a facade, Joonie. It’s what we in the business call a ruse.”

Even throughout your back and forth, you’ve kept your eyes on your man of the night: Park Minjae, a middle-aged businessman who’s been greeting people and getting swept up in conversation, all while a slip of a blonde clings to his arm, stuck to his side like a pretty limpet. She’s cute, sure, but she lacks the poise that Dahye has, so you frankly don’t get it. Then again, not everyone finds strong women as attractive as you do. Weirdos.

You’ve been focused on Minjae but your eyes have also been flitting around the room, drinking in your surroundings, drawing up a detailed map of your environment (of course you’d scoped out the building before tonight, but with all the banquet tables and chairs around the layout is a little different). The people, too, have been subject to your scrutiny, although so far they all seem summarily unimportant and uninteresting, just as you’d suspected. You lift your glass to your lips and pretend to take a tiny, demure sip, glancing up through your eyelashes to scan the room again, and you freeze.

Holy shit.

You take back what you just said about everyone being unimportant and uninteresting.

The woman who’s just walked in is fucking stunning. Her sleek dark bob is unstyled, but perfectly frames her beautiful face: sharp eyes, soft nose, flushed lips. Her cocktail dress lets you see almost every inch of those perfect legs, the line of her thighs to her calves and— oh, you swear you could shed a tear of joy. She’s already tall and she’s made even taller by the heels she wears, towering above most of the men here, a fucking Amazonian goddess who looks powerful and undeniably elegant at the same time.

(Thank you for your service, tall women.)

You don’t know who she is, but goddamn, do you want to. She’s scanning the room, and for a brief moment, your eyes touch. A tiny thrill shudders up your spine at the darkness of her keen eyes, that quick and astute gaze.

It’s only the tiniest of moments that’s over as soon as it’s started. The dark-haired beauty looks away and is already disappearing into the crowd before you realise, and it’s only then you notice that you’re staring, utterly drawn in by her cool poise and presence. You’ve been frozen in place with the rim of your champagne glass resting against your mouth, and your eyelashes flutter as you blink and glance down.

The imprint of your lower lip has been left on the glass, stark red visible against its edge, and you squeeze Namjoon’s bicep.

“How does my lipstick look?”

He takes one look at you as he swallows down another tiny vol-au-vent. “Like half of it is missing,” he says, and you frown.

“Ugh. I’ll go touch it up in the bathroom. Keep an eye on our guy, I’ll be right back.”

It’s not until you’ve made it to the toilets that you realise that you do not, in fact, have any lipstick in your ridiculously small clutch bag. When it comes to your actual work, you’re meticulous and thorough and well-planned, but for some bizarre reason, a tube of lipstick is never the top of the list when it comes to equipment. Unbelievable. (You knew you should have worn the 24/7 stuff, but it was always such a nightmare to get off.)

You’ve been so busy rummaging through your bag that you’re completely caught off-guard at the sound of a quiet voice from behind you.

“Lost something?”

Oh, fuck. It’s her, your dark haired and dark eyed beauty, meeting your gaze through the mirror when you glance up from where you’re resting your bag against the marble counter (marble, marble, marble, it’s all marble: the floors, the counters, the sinks; why do rich people always love marble?). She looks altogether too amused at your plight and at how your eyes have widened perceptibly upon seeing her again. But can she blame you? Her presence is so graceful and commanding and she’s so dizzyingly attractive it’s insane. Surely she must get this all the time.

You stare for a little longer than is probably polite, and even behind her fringe you can see how one of her eyebrows rises.

“Sorry for staring,” you say once you notice. “You’re just so beautiful.”

She pauses as she takes in the compliment. You see how her eyes flicker over your face and settle on your mouth; your upper lip, tinted burgundy red, while the lower is faint and smudged.

“Lipstick problems?” She cocks her head at you, still staring at your lips in the mirror. God, she’s so hot.

“Can you tell?” You sound rueful as you glance down at the reflection of your mouth, touching your bottom lip lightly with a fingertip. “I forgot to bring any with me so now I’m stuck.”

She finally looks away from you. You hear a small, metallic click as she unclasps her evening bag— marginally larger than your own— and lifts out a small tube of liquid lipstick. “Would you like to use mine?”

Fuck yes you would.

“Oh, would that be alright?” You finally turn around, and you have to tilt your head back to look at her, taller than you in her heels. Jesus Christ. She’s going to be the death of you. Why are women so gorgeous? Who gave them the right? “I’m not sure the shade will match, though?”

You watch her beautiful mouth curve up into a small smirk as she pulls out a tiny pack of makeup remover wipes from her bag, and you swear could propose to her there and then. Beautiful and tall and organised? Holy shit. What a woman.

She’s got her bag in one hand, while the lipstick and wipes are clasped in the other; her hand is held up in such a way that you think she means for you to take them from her, but when you reach out she shakes her head.

“I’ll do it for you,” she says. The quiet note of authority in her tone makes you go weak at the knees.

Thank god the toilets you chose aren’t the main ones, because it means there’s no one around to see how she tilts her head at the marble counter in the universal gesture of get on there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but you, of course, immediately comply. You brace your hands against the cold stone before hitching yourself up, careful with the draping folds of your dress; the cold touch of the stone is noticeable through the material of your dress, but it’s instantly forgotten when your enchantress steps closer.

You spread your knees so she can stand between them. Holy shit, she’s even better up close. Her lashes are wispy but they’re the perfect frame for her gorgeous eyes, which are dark and intent. You suppress a shiver. You hold yourself still as she leans forward and around you so she can put her clutch and lipstick down, trying to ignore how close she is, but there’s no way she can’t realise what she’s doing. Your heart is pounding. You wish you didn’t have a job to do tonight because you would so much rather be getting, ah, acquainted with this woman rather than following some old businessman around.

The only noise in the bathroom is the sound of peeling plastic as she opens the tiny packet of wet wipes before she curls one around her finger, glancing at you through her lashes.

“Open,” she instructs.

Your mouth drops open immediately. She sweeps the wipe over your lips, bottom, then top, touch firm but careful, drawing away the red from your skin; you stare at her as she works, how her eyes are cast down as she stares at your mouth. She’s using her free hand to grip your chin and you feel deliciously powerless in her grasp.

You purse your lips a little to try and help her, watching the way her eyes flicker as she pulls the wipe back over them— somewhat firmer, this time, with more intent. Lingering. The only barrier between her finger and your mouth is soft and flimsy, the texture of the wipe against your lips like cotton as it drags across them, and it would be so easy to pull it out of her hands.

She flicks the dirtied wipe aside, heedless of how it lands on the unsullied marble, before reaching for her lipstick. She twists the tube in her fingers, motions of her hands precise and deft, and you’ve never been so attracted to how someone’s uncapped something before.

You watch her hands. (She watches you.)

Your eyes trail over the wand as she pulls it out, dragging the doe foot against the rim to catch the excess before turning it towards you, putting the tube by your thigh, near where your hand is bracing against the marble. She takes hold of your chin once again. You stay quiet as she starts to sweep the lipstick over your lips, painting them the same flushed pink as her own. Once again she’s staring at her work so you’re free to drink her in, almost drunk from her beauty, eyes catching on the tiny moles on her pale skin, the smallest freckles that are only noticeable because you’re this close.

The squelch of the applicator sliding into the tube is almost lewd in the silence of the bathroom, and this time you can’t suppress a shiver when she pulls your chin down to open your mouth so she can go back in again on your lips, drawing a sharp, crisp line. Tracing the edges of your lips, the flushed swell of them, the peak of your cupid’s bow.

She glances up. For a moment you’re both still, staring at each other, tension in the air palpable, but then she smacks her lips and you copy the motion, evening the application of the makeup on your mouth.

“Perfect,” she murmurs. “One more step.”

A small, confused frown flits over your face. She’s put the lipstick aside but then she lifts a finger and points towards your still parted lips. You take in a small, shuddering breath when she speaks again and you realise what she means.

“You don’t want to get lipstick on your teeth, do you?”

Both of her eyebrows have risen and she’s looking at you like you’re being silly if you disagree with her.

“No,” you say. You’re not about to deny her. “No, I don’t.”

Your eyes remain locked. You lean forwards, taking that perfect, long finger into your mouth, dragging your lips upwards so that any excess lipstick is caught against her pale skin, a ring of deep rose circling her bottom knuckle; you curl your tongue around her, hot and wet, feeling the crease of her knuckles and pad of her fingertip against your taste buds as you slowly, slowly pull away.

It’s undoubtedly indecent and risqué and you can feel the flush of arousal settling in your lower belly, an almost embarrassing flush of wetness leaking out of you at the taste of her skin. She, however, remains unmoved, although she lets her finger linger just for a moment on your bottom lip, almost rough against their softness— but before you can swallow those fingers back down and ruin her meticulous work, she pulls away, lifting the discarded wipe to sweep it around her finger, catching the lipstick you’d left on her skin.

“Done.”

She steps back and you feel like you can finally breathe, a breath so deep you can feel how your lungs fill, oxygen rushing to your brain so fast you feel lightheaded. You watch as she sweeps everything back into her bag, clicking it shut with a note of finality; the sullied wipe is cast carelessly into a tiny, chrome bin with a flick of a wrist, her every motion regal.

You slide off the counter. You still can’t take your eyes off her and you don’t want to. It feels like whatever heaviness was in the air has dissipated, gone in an instant with a turn of her head— normally you’d let it slide, even if you feel disappointed, but she’s just so magnetic.

“Thank you,” you say. You can see yourself in the mirror now and to your complete lack of surprise, your lipstick is perfect. The shade is lighter than one you’d have chosen for yourself but it’s beautiful on her, of course.

“You’re welcome.” She’s in the middle of washing her hands, but she glances over her shoulder at you, and the firm set to her face lightens a little as she smiles. It’s a small, sly thing, and you realise with a start that she knows exactly what effect she has on you.

I’m coming back for you, you think to yourself. You have work to do tonight, but—

“What’s your name?”

She pauses. She shuts off the tap with a quick motion, reaching forward for a rolled hand-towel, a neat stack on a metal tray nearby. You wonder if she’s not going to answer but then she speaks, looking at you instead of the soft cotton she’s rubbing over her skin. “Yoonji,” she says. “I’m Min Yoonji.”

Min Yoonji is the most gorgeous fucking woman you’ve ever seen.

“I love your dress, Yoonji,” you say, and it’s true, you really do— but you’d prefer it if it was off. Not that you’re about to say that, of course.

She lets out a breath of laughter. “I know.” Oh, god, you love confident women. “What’s your name, darling?”

You have that same split second of hesitation, similar to Yoonji’s only moments prior. You use a codename when you work, of course, and you have a plethora of fake identities that you use and are intimately familiar with— but the idea of your real name falling off Yoonji’s flushed, petal lips? Woof.

“Y/n L/n,” you say.

Oh, Joon would be so unimpressed right now, giving some mysterious woman your full, real name just because you think she’s the sexiest thing since sex, but whatever. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Well, Y/n,” Yoonji says. You were right, your name sounds so good falling from her mouth, the mouth that’s turned into a small, almost smug smile. “I certainly hope to see you at the charity ball in a few weeks?”

“Of course.” Your schedule has been magically cleared and you’ll definitely be in attendance for whatever ball Yoonji is referring to, even if you have no idea what it is. You only come to these things if you have to for work but for Yoonji you’ll make an exception. You’ll make a hundred thousand exceptions. A hundred thousand quinquagintaquadringentillion exceptions. “I’ll make sure to remember my lipstick next time.”

And there it is, the thing that seals the deal, the final nail in the coffin: Yoonji glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, a sharp, dark touch that shoots through you as her smile edges into hunger.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m sure it won’t stay on your lips long enough to matter.”

The thing you’ve discovered about Minjae is that, with his divorce due to be finalised soon, he’s apparently lost any sense of routine and is revelling in his new found freedom, which is kind of irritating when you’re trying to tail the guy. Sure, you’re still going to take him out, but you prefer it when targets have some sort of schedule that they adhere to— makes it easier to set up a kill.

“You’re certain that he’s going to be here tonight?” You’d been sceptical considering how the guy’s apparently thrown his schedule out of the window, but Namjoon had been certain.

“Positive.” He’d said. “He’s there every Tuesday night. You’ll have plenty of time.”

The house appears to be deserted. The driveway is empty and all the windows and doors are locked tight. It’s just one of the properties that the Parks own in the city, and for all its size and lushness it appears as though this one is rarely frequented; you imagine that the cleaners and gardeners spend more time here than the owners themselves.

It doesn’t take you long to evade the watchful eyes of security cameras to pick a lock and slip inside. You're grateful for the dying evening light that helps cover your tracks from any onlookers from the street, although you imagine the high walls do good work at preventing people from seeing into the grounds anyway.

There’s still enough light to navigate through the house, the golden tinged sunset casting warm shadows across the spotless furniture and fixtures; you take a moment to let your eyes slide across a huge canvas hanging on a wall that spans two storeys, some impressionist piece that’s surprisingly ugly for all the talent that’s obvious in its brushstrokes. Maybe that’s why the Parks are never here? You’d certainly try to avoid seeing this thing if you could. Eurgh.

Even though the building is empty, you’re careful as you start to make your way forwards. You always place your toes down first whenever you take a step, soundless as you start to map the house out in your mind; there are so many rooms you can hide in, but you’d prefer to be close to wherever Minjae ends up. Saves faffing around later.

You’ll overpower him, inject the toxin into his blood and wait for him to die before setting him up on the toilet— it’s surprisingly common for people to die while on the shitter, the strain leading to an untimely heart attack, especially in older people. The poison you’re using tonight will mimic the symptoms of a heart attack in the case the coroner decides a post-mortem needs to be undertaken.

(Being found on the bog might not be a particularly graceful way to die but when you’re dead it’s kind of hard to be embarrassed.)

You’ve eased the door open into a large bedroom, and you’re just inspecting if it looks like this room sees more use than the others when you pause. It’s deathly silent in this building, the air still minus where you glide through it as you move, but there’s a feeling in your gut, some instinct that makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You freeze, ears straining to catch any noise to let you know if there’s someone else here, when—

There. In the reflection of a burnished pot, the tiniest shifting movement.

You react almost faster than the eye can see. You spin to parry a hit that was aimed for your head, and the strength behind it shudders through your arms. You only have a second to take in the details of your assailant— dressed in dark clothing, masquerade style mask in place, a professional just like you— before you’re deflecting another flurry of blows, flipping backwards out of reach before spinning into a kick, hooking that burnished pot with your foot and sending it flying towards the other assassin.

They dodge it. You both ignore the sound of clattering metal as you lunge forwards, trying to catch them off guard after their sidestep— your fist makes contact with their palm instead of their face, your hand engulfed in theirs, and you startle at their speed. You might not be the strongest but you’re damn fast.

There’s a pause, and you can only see a slither of their eyes through the sockets of their mask, but you can tell that they’re impressed. And honestly? So are you.

The moment shatters when they use the hand they're holding to twist you, locking an arm around your neck and putting you into a chokehold; they’re strong, stronger than you, cutting off your airflow. You need to get out of this before you fall unconscious, but if they’re trained as well as you then they’ll know how to combat the usual ways you’d use to get out of this.

So, in a demonstration of your flexibility you kick a leg up, using the strength of your thighs and calves to slam it into the arm that’s around your neck. Your assailant lets out a noise of surprise and pain as you slip out of their hold and cartwheel across the room before spinning to face them.

There’s a beat. The air is tense. You get another chance to take in the details of whoever’s just tried to choke you out; you stare at her as she stares at you, the two of you poised and ready to strike, watching and waiting.

Knives might be messy but of course you’re not unarmed. You have multiple sheathed weapons in your clothes, though you don’t make a move to draw any of them. Yet. “I suppose you wouldn’t tell me who your employer is, would you?”

Your opponent tilts her head. “You don’t know?” She sounds amused, even through her mask. “Minjae took out a contract on the assassin who has a contract on him.”

Your lip curls back from your teeth. The only way Minjae would have heard about your contract is if Dahye had told him. Presumably to try and shock him out of his behaviour, or something, who knows. “This is the last time I’m accepting a job from these rich old farts,” you mutter.

“That’s for certain,” she says.

She starts to move and you catch her arm just as she goes to unsheathe a wicked looking blade, knocking it aside before she overpowers you and you start to wrestle. It’s messy and graceless but sometimes you just have to fight dirty.

Whoever this woman is, she still has the upper hand because she was expecting you and you weren’t expecting her; she knocks you onto the bed and pins you down, swooping the knife up from where it had been thrown onto the mattress. You go utterly still as she holds it against your throat, towering over your from where she’s straddling your waist and kneeling on your arms. Any sudden movement from you now could lead to your untimely demise— and, unsurprisingly, you absolutely want to avoid that at all costs.

Namjoon would never let you live it down if you were killed on the job.

You hum. “It seems like we’ve reached an impasse.”

She doesn’t respond. The knife doesn’t dip any lower, though; you’re undoubtedly at her mercy but you notice she’s careful to keep the knife still, hovering above the skin of your neck, but not making contact.

“Well,” you continue. “At least I’m going out the way I’d always hoped to.”

Even in the dying light and with how her face is covered, you notice her face shifting behind her mask— a silent, questioning raise of an eyebrow. You give her a cheeky smile that crinkles your eyes.

“In bed with a beautiful woman, of course.”

At this she huffs out a laugh. “Do you flirt with every person who tries to kill you?”

You’re trying to look as non-threatening as possible to keep that knife away from your jugular. The longer you talk, the longer you live, even if you can’t see a way to get out of this situation right now. “Only the pretty ones.”

The small laugh she lets out this time seems more like a scoff. “You don’t even know what I look like.”

“Please.” You roll your eyes. “Any woman who can fight like you and knows how to handle a knife? Automatically hot. I don’t need to see your face to know that.”

The knife still hasn’t moved. She continues to stare you down and you go tense when her free hand moves. She tugs the cloth of your mask down to reveal your face, the air of the room almost cold against the suddenly bared skin, your breaths free to curl out unhindered.

“Usually I like to be taken out to dinner at least once before we get this intimate, but for you I suppose I’ll make an exception.” You’re still grinning cheekily at her, but your mind continues to race as you try to think of a way to get out of this, especially now that she’s seen what you look like—but you suddenly notice that she’s gone very, very still.

“Y/n?”

The grin freezes on your face. Oh, you’re so boned. You’re so very boned. Like, yeah, you’ve been seconds away from death for the past, hmm, five minutes, but this is somehow worse. How the fuck does she know your name?

You’re given the answer almost immediately. She withdraws the hand from your chin and reaches for her own mask. Your eyes widen and your breath stutters in your throat once you see who it is.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

Yoonji is staring down at you. She’s every inch as imperious and stunning as the last time you’d seen her— hell, even moreso now that you’ve seen what she’s capable of. No wonder you hadn’t been able to find out anything about her after you’d met at that garish charity gala. Because she’s untraceable, just like you.

“Well.” You stare back at her, not even attempting to keep the surprise off your face. “If anyone has to kill me at least I can die satisfied in the knowledge that it was you. Can I make a request? I’d be eternally grateful if you smothered me to death with your thighs. Just a suggestion, feel free to ignore it if you want.”

Yoonji cocks her head. Her bob is tied back, but there’s a loose lock of hair curled by the side of her face that shifts at the motion. Your fingers twitch. If she wasn’t kneeling on your arms you know you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tucking it behind her ear. Any excuse to touch her. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Hey, if it means I get to feel your legs around my face before I die, I’ll give a full fledged TED talk,” you say. “I have to admit, though. When I pictured us in bed together I didn’t think it would be like this.”

The knife still hasn’t moved from your throat. She continues to stare, as if considering what to do next, though her face remains impassive. “What did you think it would be like?”

“Well, you know. Less knives and clothes involved and a lot more making out,” you answer. “You, telling me what to do. Me, entirely at your command. Anything the lady wants, she gets.”

The human body is a fickle and strange beast. Ever since you discovered who’s straddling you, you’ve been growing wetter and wetter, even if you’re trying not to let on that you’re steadily growing more aroused— you’re still distinctly aware of the knife that’s only centimetres away from your skin, but somehow your body is more focused of the fact that the woman you’ve been daydreaming about is finally in front of you again.

(Well, less in front of you and more on top of you, which is an admittedly preferable option, sans the knife involvement.)

You see how Yoonji’s eyes are darting over your face. No doubt taking in how your pupils are dilated, how your breaths are a little shallower, quicker— signs of fear and signs of arousal are surprisingly similar. You wonder if she can identify which it is. Probably. You’re not exactly very subtle in your attraction to her.

“I forgot my lipstick again,” you add, and Yoonji’s passive mask finally breaks when she rolls her eyes.

“Didn’t I say you wouldn’t need it?”

Even the way she throws the knife aside is gorgeous. The sharp undulation of her wrist as she sends the blade skittering across the polished wood floor is careless and fluid. Her hands cup your face as she bends down, and you send up a mental thanks to any god or higher being who might be listening before Yoonji presses her lips to your and your brain goes blank.

Apparently Yoonji likes it messy. One of her hands is grasping your chin in a mockery of the last time you’d met and she’d painted your lips— your mouth is open and she licks past your lips as you shudder beneath her. She’s still got her knees pressed into your arms, pinning you down, but you desperately crane your head towards her, chasing that kiss; you tilt your head to deepen it, and the whine that leaves you when she pulls away is almost embarrassing.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon and the room is dark, painted in shades of grey and deep blue. You wish you could see Yoonji properly and you can’t help but wriggle a little underneath her, but then you watch her raise her hands and clap three times in rapid succession before the room floods with dim light. Sound activated lights? Damn.

Yoonji’s mouth shines, covered in a sheen of your mixed saliva, her pretty lips flushed rose pink; even without makeup they’re beautiful and their colour is deep, the blooming petals of a flower. Your eyes trail over her face, down her neck, over the fall of her chest and stomach— you’re both far too covered up in these stupid ensembles of yours and you want to strip the clothes off her. You want to see every inch of her beautiful, majestic body, bared for your lips and hands.

Fuck, she’s so gorgeous.

“Not to, um, ruin the moment, but my hands are going numb.” The weight of Yoonji’s body being pressed into your arms has pretty much cut off the blood flow to your fingers and you can feel the telltale sensation of pins and needles spreading through your skin. “Can I have those back, please?”

Yoonji lifts her knees just enough for you to slide your arms out from underneath them. You immediately shed your gloves and go to grab her ass but she gives you a sharp look and you freeze, slowly settling them on her thighs instead, which she allows with only the slightest raise of her eyebrows.

“Watch,” she commands, and who are you to disobey?

She reaches for the tie in her hair, tugging it out and letting her dark locks fall to frame her lovely, beautiful face. You hungrily swallow down each sight that she feeds to you, the skin that’s revealed as she shrugs off her layers of clothing. She unbuckles the weapons hidden underneath her clothes as she sheds them; she’s a veritable arsenal of firearms and knives, all cast carelessly aside until her upper body is finally, blessedly naked. You’ve been staring at her the whole time, the graceful column of her throat, the delicate lines of her collarbones, and your gaze falls to her breasts, small and perfect, nipples dusty pink and hard. You want to put your mouth on them.

“Holy shit, you’re perfect,” you say.

She smirks. You watch as she rolls her body, lifting up from her knees and standing up, towering above you on the bed—your hands fall to the mattress as she pulls her trousers down, tight material dragging against her skin as she slides it over the curve of her hips and down her long legs. There’s a dagger strapped to her thigh, which she unbuckles and lets fall to one side, but god, if she used it to kill you right now, you would die a happy woman. The image of Min Yoonji towering above you in nothing more than some flimsy underwear is one you want to take to the grave.

You can see how the material around her entrance is darkened with her arousal, and you feel your own body react to the sight, pussy throbbing, your own lower lips slick underneath all your layers of clothing. Yoonji hooks her thumbs into her panties and pushes them down, and you’re enraptured as you watch how the wetness clings to them, before that last bit of clothing is cast aside too.

You moan, unable to stop the sound bubbling up in your throat. From how she’s standing above you, legs spread from how her feet are either side of your hips, you can see everything—how her cunt is flushed, how wet she is, her folds shining. You bet she tastes so fucking good.

You let your mouth fall open, tongue lolling out in a way that’s obscene. You see Yoonji’s eyes flicker as she traces the motion, the way she takes in your expression: wide, hungry eyes, parted lips, wet tongue. Your hands skim up the back of her calves as she shifts forwards and returns to her knees, her naked core so, so close to your mouth, and you dig your fingers into her skin.

“Bon appé-fucking-tit,” you murmur, and then you pull her onto your face.

Yoonji gasps.

(You were right. She tastes so, so fucking good.)

You’re utterly shameless as you slurp up her juices, the wetness that continues to leak out of her as you bury your face into her cunt, tongue lapping over her entrance as your nose brushes her clit. Your hands have moved to the flesh of her ass and you encourage her to grind against you, rolling her hips towards your greedy mouth; you’re staring up at her, drinking down her reactions, the way her face twists with pleasure and the shuddering breaths she takes in, perfect little breasts jumping at the motion. There’s a flush spreading down her neck and chest, pale skin blushing pink, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

You purse your lips against her clit, circling it with your tongue before dipping back down between her folds. Each time you breathe in all you can smell is her scent, heavy and dark, all your senses filled with Yoonji, Yoonji, Yoonji. When you hum against her, Yoonji arches her spine and throws her head back, so when you press your tongue into her you hum again, letting the vibrations shiver through her.

“Yes,” she gasps, rutting against your face. “Yes, yes—”

Her thighs tighten around your head. You redouble your efforts, watching her face as you continue to swipe your tongue up her slit and through her folds; you wish you could swallow each of the noises that are falling from her lips as she reaches the crest of her pleasure, the little gasps and moans each time you move your tongue in a particularly wicked way.

“There,” she says. “There, there, just like that—”

Your jaw aches but you don’t even register it, too intent on keeping your mouth open and hot and wet against her. It only takes a few more swipes and flicks of your tongue before she shudders violently, canting her hips towards your mouth as her legs go tense and she cums. She continues to straddle your face as she rides out the waves of pleasure, and you swallow down the wetness that flushes out of her rippling cunt, ignoring the throbbing between your own legs.

You can’t talk, muffled by her as you are, but your mind is singing. Look at you, you think. Look at how gorgeous you are. God, I could eat you out all day. (What a blessed life that would be.)

You can tell when Yoonji’s edged into oversensitivity, jolting when your tongue sweeps over her swollen clit; she settles back, knees spread as she rests against your heaving chest, legs tensing each time an aftershock shivers through her. Your mouth is open as you pant in air, but she watches as you swipe your tongue over your lips, catching the lingering taste of her on you, your chin opalescent with her arousal.

“Okay,” you say, breathless. “I’ve done everything that’s worth doing. I’ve peaked. Everything is downhill from here. You can kill me now.”

You’re only half joking, but your thighs instinctively go tight to rub against each other when you see how Yoonji’s eyes darken.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she purrs.

Yoonji might be naked while you’re still clothed, and so still armed, but she’s undoubtedly the one who’s in control right now. You are so, so okay with that. You watch with wide eyes as she shifts back, her hands grabbing the material of your jacket to tug you upwards, but before she can strip off your clothes you capture her lips with your own.

The taste of her is still heady and deep in your mouth and you nip at her bottom lip before pressing your tongue forwards. The kiss is already slick from Yoonji’s wetness and when you pull away, there’s a thin string of saliva that connects you for a moment before it breaks, which Yoonji wipes away from your chin with the pad of her thumb.

“Dirty girl,” she says, and you bite back a moan at the unabashed lust in her voice. Her grip on your chin is firm. “Did I say you could kiss me?”

“No,” you answer. “I couldn’t help myself.”

She tuts, as if disappointed, and every one of your nerve endings feels electrified, ready and anticipating whatever Yoonji is going to do next. “Such a shame,” she says. “You just can’t keep your hands or mouth to yourself, can you?”

“Can you blame me?”

Yoonji huffs out a laugh through her nose. She strips your jacket off in one sharp motion and then your shirt is similarly pulled off with single-minded intent, along with every other piece of equipment cinched to your arms and body. When you reach for her, though, she captures your wrists, her face stern.

“If you keep moving without permission, I’m going to take that privilege away from you.”

You don’t have to see your own eyes to know how your pupils will have dilated from that statement, blood thrumming through your veins, and you can tell Yoonji has noticed when her expression shifts.

“Oh.” A small, triumphant smirk appears on her face. “I see.”

You lift your arms up so she can pull your sports bra off (of course if you had known you’d been running into Yoonji again you would have worn something nicer). Rather than touch your heaving chest, however, she pushes you down onto the mattress, a hand around your wrists so they’re held above your head.

“Keep still,” she says.

She reaches for the holster that you’d had around your upper arm, lazily casting the knife aside before looping it around your wrists and pulling it secure.

Yoonji’s fingers ease under the nylon as she checks the fit. It’s tight, but not so much so that it’s painful or dangerous, and there’s a hushed moment when the realisation hits you— Yoonji and yourself are both skilled enough to know that you could easily free yourself if you wanted to. It would only take a little motion of your wrists and hands and you could slip them out of the makeshift cuffs in an instant.

You melt into the mattress. Yoonji’s eyes shift away from your wrists as she takes in the way you’ve gone utterly relaxed and limp below her, staring back at her. You see an expression flit across her face faster than you can see, before she slides down your body so she can push your legs apart.

You lift your hips to help her strip your trousers off. Her hand lingers on the concealed holster around your thigh, eyeing the small pistol nestled inside it, before that too is stripped off and cast aside. Her hands trail over the soft skin of your hips and stomach, eyes skimming over the bared length of your body before settling between your legs, the slickness of your inner thighs.

“You got this wet just from eating me out?” Her pretty mouth is curled into an expression that’s almost mocking, and your legs jolt as she runs her fingers lightly over your lower lips before rubbing her fingertips together to feel the wetness she’s gathered. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your nails dig into your palms as your hands twist against each other and you shift your legs further apart. “Please, Yoonji,” you plead, shameless from desperation and arousal.

She laughs at your obvious hunger. “I suppose I should return the favour, shouldn’t I?”

You watch breathlessly as she lifts her fingers to her lips, swallowing them into her mouth to get them slick and wet. The motions of her tongue are languid as she licks across her fingers. You’re like a livewire, thrumming with electricity, and the sensation of her finally sinking one of those fingers into you sends sparks throughout your body.

Yoonji’s maddeningly slow. Your body takes her readily, her long finger gliding easily in and out of you, but she makes no move to speed up; you let out a small noise and she moves upwards to kiss you, as if indulging you, and you’ve just relaxed against her mouth when she plunges a second finger in.

She swallows your gasp as her fingers speed up, before she starts to kiss across your jaw, your neck, between the valley of your breasts and then closing her mouth over one of your nipples— she times the flick of her tongue with the thrust of her fingers, and then you feel how she takes her thumb to press your clit at the same time and you’re gone, falling over the edge faster than you’d expected. Your orgasm is fast but deep, your walls clenching tight around the fingers that continue to curl in and out of you, but she doesn’t stop.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “It’s too— oh—”

Those two fingers continue to rub your sweet spot as you edge into oversensitivity but Yoonji doesn’t let up. She continues to lick and bite at the skin of your chest, putting her mouth to your other breast and circling the hardened bud of your nipple with her tongue before kissing down your stomach, your pubic bone, and then pressing her lips to your swollen clit.

You whimper. Her pace of her fingers has quickened, and she curls them each time she almost pulls them out, the squelch of their motions obscene as they slide through the cum of your first orgasm. She stares up at you, lapping at your clit with her tongue, and you can feel the saliva that’s dripping from her mouth and over your flushed core, every inch of you oversensitive but screaming with pleasure.

It’s almost painful, but you can feel an orgasm creeping through that ache; you wring your hands together and sob as Yoonji continues to finger fuck you without mercy, her pace almost bruising, the thrust of her knuckles against you each time she bottoms out just one more layer on top of that overwhelming pleasure.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “I’m g-gonna cum again.”

She hums against you, and you make an incoherent noise at the feeling of that sound against your clit, almost too much— and then she presses one more finger into you, and that’s it, that slight burn and stretch sending you hurtling over that edge again. When you cum, your hips buck and you gasp, air rushing into your lungs before it escapes you in a moan of ecstasy; the only sensations registering in your mind right now are the ripples of pleasure spreading through your cunt as Yoonji pulls her fingers out of you, pressing down on your clit in a way that’s almost cruel, and you sob as your legs instinctively try to tighten but are prevented from doing so by Yoonji’s unyielding presence.

She’s staring down at you as you start to go lax, and you think she’s finished with you, but you watch with widening eyes as she takes her ring and middle finger to run them through your sodden folds. You sob again when those fingers plunge back into you, palm pressing against your clit each time she curls her fingers, and you squirm underneath her.

“Yoonji, it’s too much,” you cry.

“One more.” Yoonji’s leaning back and staring at you, taking in the sweat that’s beading across your skin, the tears that are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill down your face and into your hair. “You’re doing so well, darling, you can give me one more, can’t you?”

Your reply is incoherent, a small noise that shudders out of the back of your throat. You’ve never been thrown so thoroughly into pleasure like this, overstimulated and aching, but there’s that flicker of pleasure still between your legs, growing each time Yoonji beckons with her fingers, curling over your abused sweet spot again and again and again.

“Just say the word and I’ll stop,” Yoonji says, the wet plunge of her fingers into your abused pussy so messy and loud but not enough to drown her out. “One word and I’ll stop.”

You don’t say anything. You just let your eyes roll back into your head as you cant your hips towards her, trying to latch onto that thread of pleasure that’s thrumming through you below all your screaming nerves, and the noise Yoonji makes is pleased.

“There we go,” she praises. “Look at you, so good for me. Pretty darling.”

You can feel how your pussy clenches around Yoonji’s fingers, how the coil in you is squeezing tighter and tighter, how another orgasm is somehow creeping up on you— you tilt your hips towards that feeling, towards Yoonji’s hand, and then she’s pulling her fingers out of you in an almost rough motion and you’re cumming harder than you ever have before.

“Oh, fuck!” You sob.

It’s indescribable. The sensation rips through you as your back arches off the bed and you’re cumming and squirting and gasping and you can feel the wetness that slicks out of you, your toes curling as your brain goes blank from the staggering pleasure and static consumes every one of your senses. Your entire body feels like nothing more than a vessel for the ecstasy that’s shooting through your veins, spreading out from your core and to every corner of your insides and limbs.

It takes you a while to come back around, aftershocks wracking through your body. You feel sluggish and slow as your mind slowly clears, focusing on the sensation of warm hands stroking over the skin of your stomach and hips and thighs; your eyes flutter open and when you glance down you can see the shine to Yoonji’s skin, evidence of your pleasure painting her in a thin sheen of liquid.

“Oh my god,” you moan. “Holy shit.”

She smiles. “You were so, so good for me,” she says. She leans down to press a light kiss to collarbones and you shiver. “So beautiful. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve died and gone to heaven before coming back again,” you reply. “Oh, that was so good, Yoonji. I’ve never squirted before. I didn’t realise I could. God.”

Yoonji laughs lightly. You can’t help but watch the way it transforms her face, the way her chest jumps at the motion, every inch of her gorgeous and majestic and cute and pretty. “You did so, so well,” she praises, before she kisses you, her mouth so soft; you barely notice the sudden easing of pressure around your wrists as she releases you, more intent on the sensation of her soft petal lips against your own.

You stare up at her as she pulls away. Powerful, amazing Min Yoonji, kneeling between your legs, naked but not helpless. Definitely less vulnerable than you right now. And yet she’s still making no moves to grab one of the many weapons littered around the bed so she can finally finish her contract by completing the kill. It would be so easy for her.

The silence of the room is suddenly broken by a tiny buzzing noise. You both glance over at the sound, one that Yoonji doesn’t recognise but you do— the communicator in one of your wristbands, the one you use to keep in contact with Namjoon.

You watch the twisting of Yoonji’s body as she leans over the bed to hook the band with a finger before proffering it to you. You pause, but then grasp her wrist and lightly pull so she ends up pressed against you, softness of her breasts against your own, and you hold the communicator between your faces as you accept the call.

“Thank god you answered.” Namjoon’s voice is obviously frantic even through the tinniness of the small speaker. “Dahye cancelled the contract because Minjae wants to reconcile with her, but apparently he’s already put a hit out on you— tonight was a ruse, Minjae isn’t going to be there, you have to get out of there—”

“Bit too late for that,” you interrupt. Yoonji’s hair is tickling your cheek. “Don’t worry. I have it in hand. Send some flowers to Minjae for me, will you?”

“Flowers?” Namjoon sounds understandably confused. “Why?”

“As a thank you for taking out a contract on me,” you say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a little busy.”

“With what?”

“With me,” Yoonji says, and you hear Namjoon’s surprised intake of breath before you cut the line.

You end up laughing to yourself. “Oh, he’s going to hate me for that,” you giggle. Yoonji’s hand trails up your stomach and you continue to giggle at the ticklish sensation. Her skin is still slick against yours, and you suddenly realise how cold it is in the room, the air touching the cooling liquid that’s rubbed off against your skin, and you shiver. “Mm. I think it’s time to clean up. Want me to scrub your back in the shower? I give very good massages.”

Yoonji’s eyes are dark and warm before she presses her nose to your neck, lips soft as they touch the delicate skin of your throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

#yoonji x reader #min yoonji #yoonji smut #cypherwritersnet #bts smut #bts oneshot #one day I'll learn how to efficiently use tags... one day #joy.masterlist

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bullshittierlists · 3 years

Photo

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR DANGANRONPA V3 (and probably the other games, too, just to be safe)

So, just as a heads up, I made this list a few months ago, I think in the middle of chapter 4. I was going to update it, but I realized that any feelings I had were just made stronger and the list was still relatively accurate. Here are my thoughts:

I see no god up here other than me

Kirumi Tojo - As you may know about me, I can typically tell who my favorite characters are going to be before I indulge myself in a series. This has especially rung true throughout Danganronpa, I was able to correctly guess Taka and Gundham as my respective favorites before actually seeing them in action. Let me tell you that Kirumi surprised me. I originally guessed K1-B0 as my favorite and while he’s still up there, he is nowhere near Kirumi. I realized she was my favorite the moment chapter 2 ended. Not only were her execution and plan wonderful and brilliantly done, her last-ditch plea to convince everyone to let her live sold her for me. Not only did this plea make sense, it almost worked and I kinda wish it would’ve. Her motive was almost completely selfless and she worked damn hard to escape. Her execution was the only time I cried during this game because I wanted so badly for her to escape, but I knew that all of her efforts were futile. I know her biggest criticism is that her plan from hiding Ryoma’s body was completely unnecessary, but I like to believe she was just nervous and overthought the whole thing. I mean, this had to go perfectly in order for her to save her country, of course she’s going to add a few too many steps.

Miu Iruma - Okay, I know this is going to sound fake, but I actually really love the dichotomy of her character. The way that she acts so self-righteous but is actually quite self-conscious really stood out to me. Of course she’s funny and hot, too, but I feel it’s important to really appreciate the way her character was written. It amazes me that she was written to be the least likable character in the entire series and still ended up being one of my favorites.

You’re the best

K1-B0 - Yes, I type out his name every time. As I already mentioned, he was my original guess for favorite character, but it obviously didn’t work out that way. He stayed in his position of first for a while, but I always knew it wasn’t meant to last, I just didn’t know which character would take his place. Even besides my doubts, I still love K1-B0, I just wish more could’ve been done with him in the earlier chapters. There are several opportunities for him to be a really funny character and have good interactions with Kokichi and Miu, but he just comes off as annoying. I feel like he only really started to be utilized after Miu died with Monotaro and I really enjoyed their dynamic, I just wish we could’ve had some of this side of K1-B0 before this point.

Kokichi Oma - This spot probably isn’t as subjective as I’d like it to be. Every time Kokichi was on screen, I would get visibly annoyed, but I knew I was in for a treat figuring out his deeper intents behind what he’s saying. The only reason I really like Kokichi at all is because he’s fun to analyze. It gets boring to analyze Nagito because his motivation is pretty much just a mix of “hope” and “he’s crazy.” Kokichi’s character trait of lying makes it so fun to individually analyze each of his lines to figure out whether he’s telling the truth and why or why not. Other than that, I guess he has some funny dialogue with Miu sometimes.

Gonta Gokuhara - I really don’t know. I know this is way too early to be unsure about characters, but I just know I couldn’t put him any lower, but I also couldn’t put him any higher. He’s just such a sweetheart, but that’s about where the substance ends. I adored every time he was on my screen, but everything that would’ve been fun to analyze about him just leads back to Kokichi. I still really enjoy his presence, though. I’d like a big Gonta hug.

Kaede Akamatsu - I’ll just say it, I think she would’ve made for a better protagonist. I’ll talk about this later, but Shuichi’s character development doesn’t really feel like it goes anywhere and the twist doesn’t feel worth it because of that. I think the twist should still have been incorporated, but with the roles reversed. Either way, we got what we got, and what we got was tears from Clair de Lune. But seriously, she really is a great pianist. I’ve been trying to learn the piece for ages and it’s still too complicated for me. I mean, it’s in 9/8 for God’s sake. Good for her, regardless.

Tenko Chabashira - Tenko’s a weird case. I didn’t actually care for her that much until quite literally a few lines before she died. Fun fact: I spoiled this entire series for myself before I ended up playing it and I’m still mad at myself. This meant that I was just waiting for all of the deaths to happen, especially Tenko’s. I was fully aware that every line could be her last during the seance, but I wasn’t aware that she would pull on my heart strings before she went. When she tells Himiko that she’ll do the seance in her place so she can talk to Angie, I literally almost started crying. Before this, Tenko was just kind of annoying, but not too bad, but this moment really solidified her spot for me. She really just wanted to help Himiko and I wish she had chosen a better target for her affections.

Hey, I think you’re pretty cool, I like you a lot

Shuichi Saihara - Time to elaborate on what I said for Kaede. I actually really enjoyed Shuichi’s character development throughout the first three chapters. Before coming to Hope’s Peak, he was afraid to hurt people with his detective skills. Kaede notices this and helps him through it, passing the reins to Kaito once she passes. Shuichi convicts Kaede and later Kirumi, much to everyone’s detriment, but they’re all okay with it (Nobody was really super sad about Korekiyo to begin with, lol). Then, starting in chapter 4, everyone just kinda flips on him. Shuichi + the rest of the gang - Kokichi all believe that Gonta is innocent and Shuichi tries to prove this. Instead of supporting him, everyone (especially Kaito) tries to... stop him??? from proving it??? They’re all just in agreement that it wasn’t Gonta, but don’t want to proceed with the investigation to figure out who it was instead. It’s really frustrating and made my overall experience much less enjoyable. This is bumped up a few notches in chapter 5 with Maki. I understand that she was part of the whole case, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying that she won’t let me prove Kaito was the victim. It just feels like the character development was all for nothing and every student feels like a human obstacle (except K1-B0, of course). Still relatable and emo, though.

Rantaro Amami - I would make the joke everyone expects, but I’m on my laptop and I don’t know how to get to the emoji keyboard.

Ryoma Hoshi - I genuinely don’t have anything to say about Ryoma. He’s my halfway point because I don’t have anything particularly for him and I don’t have anything particularly against him, either. Go off, funky little cat man.

Kaito Momota - He got on my nerves in chapter 4, but he was a genuinely sweet character that I really enjoyed talking to. Any time he would talk about the stars, I would swoon because he’s just such a natural romantic. Not really my type, though. Very average.

Monophanie - Legally you can’t ask me why the monokubs are where they are. She’s voiced by Natalie Hoover (Sonia) and I guess that’s my only reasoning.

Monotaro - I really just liked his interactions with K1-B0 in chapter 4. Other than that, I greatly disliked his and Monophanie’s presence in Gonta’s execution. 0/10 worst use for monokubs.

Monodam - A nice, non-distracting addition to Korekiyo’s execution. But he had so much potential and just threw it all away. Apparently I’m a basketball dad from a high school movie now.

I remember you

Angie Yonaga - Many times, I’ve found myself asking who I ship from the series and this love triangle comes to mind. Of Angie, Himiko, and Tenko... I only really like Tenko. I don’t hate Angie’s cult stuff as much as everyone else seems to, but she didn’t have nearly enough of a presence for me to latch onto outside of the cult stuff, which was funny, I will admit.

Maki Harukawa - I was so excited the whole game for her to get cool. I knew she was going to get cool, I just didn’t know when or how. But then, it was chapter 5 already and she hadn’t gotten cool in my eyes yet. I was really meh on her by that chapter anyway, but her being annoying really knocked her down a few pegs. She got a couple extra points for surprising me during the case, but not enough to bump her up any spots.

Himiko Yumeno - I was rooting for her to be crushed under the rock at the end. She was fine before chapter 3, but then they tried to develop her with the Akane treatment and it didn’t work for me at all. She just got on my nerves during the third trial and continued to contribute nothing throughout the rest of the game. During chapter 5 and 6, it’s like the writers just completely forgot that she was there. This would’ve been fine if they weren’t the last couple of chapters and she was one of about 6 people left alive. She had a role to play and didn’t play it in the slightest. The most she was utilized after chapter 3 was as Miu’s replacement post-chapter 5. Someone needed to fill the dirty jokes quota and I guess Himiko was chosen. #GiveTenkoABetterLoveInterest2021

Monosuke - The only thing I remember him doing throughout the entire game was distract me from Kirumi’s exectuion. Not a fan.

You are the worst. Literal scum. Leave this planet and never return

Korekiyo Shinguji - Okay, listen. He’s not that bad. His design is actually one of the best, in my opinion and I love his dedication to his craft. However, he just creeps me out whenever he’s on screen and I’d prefer not to be around him. It’s not even the sister thing, I honestly think that’s funny and a nice change of pace, but his overall demeanor is creepy. Not to mention he’s played by Todd Haberkorn and he’s been in one too many roles recently. Hopefully I’ll get over it, but as for now, that loses him points.

Tsumugi Shirogane - I know, not exactly an unpopular opinion. She’s just annoying and downright pisses me off a lot of the time with her “plain” shtick. I already knew she was going to be the mastermind, so most of the game was just me waiting for her to reveal it. I swear, I almost couldn’t take it every time she said something like, “What if there isn’t a mastermind?” “What?? There’s a mastermind????” Just stfu Tsumugi. You all are lucky I don’t have the energy to talk about 3-6 right now.

Monokid - Hate the tongue sprite, that’s literally the only reason he’s down here. He’s also kind of annoying, but made the best addition to an execution out of all of the monokubs. His death was one of the few things that surprised me in this game and it was a welcome twist. I was sick of him by this point, but was still incredibly shocked when he was pushed into the execution. Then, his severed head rolls out to all of the students looking on in shock at Kaede’s death. Masterful. Still hate the tongue sprite.

There we go. Definitely my least favorite cast out of the whole series, but it’s still fun to love on and hate on a lot of the characters, as per usual. There are just a few too many in the middle tier (metaphorically speaking) that are either uninteresting or just don’t get their time to shine. Maybe they’ll eventually grow on me more, but I doubt it.

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secondhand-trash · 4 years

Text

Voicemail

A/N: oh hello, bet you never saw this coming. This is my part of the bnharem angst collab! Took a bit of an experimental approach with the format and things like that so fingers cross that it works qwq You can find the masterlist here if you are in the mood to break your own heart!uwu (I kinda cheated and twisted the prompt around for a bit but shhh)

The collab prompt:

“It’s 2 am, I know that, but I need you...”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t go to you anymore, you know that.”

Pairing: Shinsou HItoshi x reader

Description: “You have 1 new message”

Word count: 2193

*you have 1 new message*

*beep*

Hey, um, it’s me.

I know that this is stupid and literally everyone around me will crucify me if they know I’m doing this right now... but I miss you. I miss you so much. People are saying that I should move on, that I need to forget you but I just... They don’t get that you simply don’t forget someone you loved with your whole being as easy as a few shots and drunken night outs. I know what you would say, that you are probably furrowing your bows in disapproval if you are listening to this right now. If you will ever hear this, that is. You would shake your head while twirling the phone wire like you always did when I used to tell you all the reckless things I had done while I was away from you, your hands gesturing wildly even though I couldn’t see any of it. *chuckles* *sniffs* I wish I could see all of that, all of your little motions and the way you frown now that I don’t have that chance to anymore. I should have... I should have cherished you more, maybe then you wouldn’t have left me.

God, I sound so sad...

I... I, uh...

I’m sorry. I’ll... I’ll try not to call again.

*end of message*

*you have 2 new messages*

*beep*

It’s me again.

I know I said that I won’t call but I just can’t help myself. I keep telling myself that I shouldn’t, that it will only hurt me more because you are never coming back to me no matter how many times I call your number. But some nights when I’m in bed, trying to go to sleep without you by my side when I’m tossing and turning, I always come back to you.

Sometimes it’s easier to not think of you, but sometimes I feel like crying just from being alone. You used to use all kinds of ways to bribe me to just get some sleep, just stay in bed with you for a little longer. It’s always your voice that did the trick for me. You could just... say things in my ear and suddenly the entire world melted away, it was just you and me. It gets harder when it’s raining outside, we used to cuddle with piles of blankets whenever it rains. You like listening to the sound of it, said it calms you down.

But now it’s just me, trying to get some comfort out of the voice note you recorded one day out of boredom and had been using ever since. You did so many takes for those few lines because I kept trying to mess with you, *chuckles* can’t believe that the thing I used to tease you about is now the only thing that can make me fall asleep at night.

But I guess this is no good for me huh? That I’m doing so much to hold onto something that will never be mine again...

I...

Nevermind.

*end of message*

*you have 7 new messages*

*beep*

So Kaminari found out that I’ve been calling you. I don’t even know how he found out but that doesn’t matter, is it? He called me the other day, saying that I need to stop doing this and that all this attachment is just going to make it harder for me to ever accept the reality that you aren’t coming back to me. Deep down I know that he is right, I really do, but at that point I just felt angry that he was talking to me like he knew what I was going through, like he knew what it feels like.

I snapped when he said that you are never going to call back.

I slammed the phone down, shutting him off completely like if I didn’t hear it, I could pretend that what he said was not the truth. I broke down crying like a child after that. I know, throwing a tantrum then cry because someone told me the truth as it is, you would have hated me if you saw me like that.

I remember how you hated me so much when we just met. You thought that I was an egotistic jerk who only cared about what I wanted and nothing else, and I thought that you were just poking your nose into my life that you had no business in. I guess I just didn’t want to admit that I wanted you to be my friend but you hated my guts. I still can’t believe that we ended up together after so many arguments and people betting whether we would actually get over ourselves and admit that we had a spark or not, and now we are back to phase one. I still want you to be with me as much as ever, and you are out of my life, for real this time.

I called him back when I finally calmed down and apologised for lashing out on him like that, but I couldn’t say anything when he asked me to stop calling. He said that it would be better for the both of us, that you would want me to move on from you, but I just... I’m so scared that one day, I’ll forget about you. I’ll forget the way you smile, how the pitch of your voice is higher when you are on the phone, that... that...

It’s just... I don’t know... I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you... and I... I...

*sighs* I’ll stop here today.

*end of message*

*you have 11 new messages*

*beep*

*inaudible sniffling*

(y/n)... (y/n)? Can you hear me? It’s 2 am, I know that, but I need you... *burps*

Where are you? I miss you... Was it something I’ve done? Is this why you aren’t talking to me?

Please answer the phone... please.. please- *chokes*

*muffled sobbing*

*end of message*

*you have 12 new messages*

*beep*

Sorry for last night, I don’t know what got into me.

The guys took me out drinking, again, said it will help me take my mind off things. I didn’t actually want to go but... but they were doing this because they were worried about me and I felt guilty.

I ended up having a great time, actually. I felt like I was in another world compared to everyone else at first but after a few shots, it was like I was finally back in the real world. I laughed, I talked, and for a while I didn’t think about you.

*chuckles* Really, you didn’t come up in my mind at all, not even for a second, and I thought that I had finally moved on as they told me to.

But then I came back. No friends, no laughter, only me in a place that you used to call home, and I just... I just...

I felt so lonely. I guess it must be the alcohol messing with me, but for a second I forget that you are never coming back. When I was drunk out of my mind, crying on floor and clutching the phone to my ear with shaking hands, I really did thought that maybe you would hear all that nonsense I was babbling, and you were really on the other end of the call. I kept thinking that you were so cruel, seeing all these messages I left you but still ignored me. It was so silly, because you won’t come to me anymore, I know that so well, but.. but I...

I just want to hear your voice again, for one last time, you know? *sniffs* Just once, and that’s enough for me....

...

Oh, what am I even doing.

*end of message*

Shinsou let out a shaky breath as his finger hoovered above the glowing digits. He did not even need to think to punch out the right string of numbers, he laughed at the realisation that this was where he got to. He took a deep breath, looking up to stop the tears that were threatening to form.

If he was going to leave one last voice mail, the least he could do was make it audible.

The last time, he smiled bitterly to himself with no one there to see, he would move on after today. He clutched his hands at the thought of leaving the memories of you behind, knuckles nearly turning white at how nervous he was to carry out a plan that he knew he should have done ages ago. He could already feel the lump forming at the back of his throat and he didn’t even start talking.

This wouldn’t be easy, but my god he would try. He would try for you.

*Hello, this is (y/n).*

He let out a choked sob the moment the familiar line rang by his ear, covering it up with an ugly laugh. He wasn’t even sure what this emotion that was bubbling up inside of him was anymore. Your voice was so close but so far, and even though he wanted nothing more than to just clutch onto whatever fragment of you he had left through the recording, he knew that he couldn’t dwell on you any longer.

But was it really that easy when your voice was carved into the back of his head?

*I can’t pick up your call right now but if there is something urgent, please leave a message after the beep.*

*beep*

“Hey, this is Hitoshi and I- I...” he tried to ignore how tight his throat felt and kept going on, “I’m calling to say good bye.”

Yes, good bye. He smiled at the thought, ignoring how dry his eyes were.

Something he never really got to say to you.

“I still can’t believe that it has only been a month without you, it feels far longer for me. For a while, waking up every morning was agony. At least in my sleep, I won’t think about it but when I wake up to an empty bed, it was like getting slapped by reality. But really, if you think about it, our whole relationship is just plot twist after plot twist, isn’t it? If I told you when we first met that we would end up in love and I would be crying over you for countless nights, there was no way you would believe me."

He thought of how far you two had gone from wanting to tear each other’s face off at every turn to being near inseparable in the span of years. He nodded his head, almost like an encouragement for himself to keep going on.

He didn’t even notice that he was crying until he taste the saltiness at the tip of his tongue.

“You are probably laughing at me right now, saying that I would not be able to live without you like you always did whenever you had to clean up after my mess. You would roll your eyes, but there wasn’t once when you didn’t come running whenever I need you. I had no idea that you were right until I really have to start living without you.

“Sometimes I think it’s my fault that you are not hear right now. That maybe, maybe if I had stopped you from leaving the door that morning, you would still be alive. But I guess there’s really no point thinking about what might have been anymore, isn’t it?”

He tried to force a chuckle out of his throat that was aching from how hard he tried to contain his sobs, but it only came out as a hiccup. Running his hand across his face, he sucked in a deep breath and regained his voice, determined to make it through.

“So...” no matter how painful it was for him to let you go, he would pull through this time. Tears ran down his face as he clenched his jaw, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m not gonna call again. Really this time.”

His voice was on the verge of breaking but he did not stop. He could almost hear you telling him to go on, to say what he had to say, and he smiled.

You were always there for him when he needed you, but now he would have to learn to live without you.

“I’m moving on,” he said, more to himself than to the empty end of the call, “yes, I’m gonna... I’m gonna move on.”

There were so many things he wanted to say. So many times he had played in his head what he would do if some power above took pity on him and granted his wish of speaking to you one last time.

But he decided that he was not going to say any of it.

I love you.

No, he shook his head, there was no point saying something that you knew all along but there was something that he wished he had told you.

He smiled as if you were there to see it.

“Good bye.”

#shinsou x reader #shinsou imagine #bnha imagines #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi imagine #shinsou hitoshi

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bnhayyy · 3 years

Text

The Call (10)

Chapter Title: Friendship

Wordcount: 2.9k

Fic Tag: Click

Ao3 Link: Click

Chapter Summary: The death of Marco Bodt.

Notes: I stopped uploading chapters to tumblr for a while, but I've decided to get caught up! And getting caught up meant starting with. This. Enjoy? Also! if you want to see what happens next, please know that the next eight chapters are all already posted on Ao3.

"Kirstein. It's Ymir; I'm sure the slayers have told you all about me. Probably not good stuff either, so right now, I need you to ignore all of that and listen to me. Reiner Braun and Bertolt Hoover are vampires, Reiner has a gem that lets him walk in the sunlight, and Annie is in league with them. I have too many damn calls to make to go into detail, but Reiner's the killer you've been looking for. Bastard almost took Krista out last night. They're after Ackerman, and if you want to stay alive, you'll stay the fuck away from them. I mean it. They are not the people you think they are."

***

"Hey Jean, I just got a really weird voicemail from someone called Ymir. She was talking about vampires and magic rings and... something about Reiner being a murderer? It's probably nothing, but... she sounded really worked up and angry for a prank. I'm going to go over to Reiner's place and talk to him. I don't know what's going on, but I'm sure we can talk it out. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know in case you get a call as well. I've got it under control."

***

Jean felt all the blood drain from his face as he stared down at his phone. He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to think or feel.

Then he called Marco.

No answer.

He called again.

No answer.

After the third missed call, he pulled on his shoes and raced out of the apartment.

The first message had left him breathless - how the fuck had the vampire that Mikasa and Annie were hunting gotten his phone number?

That much he figured out almost immediately. It wasn't a nice thought, but it was the obvious answer. Ymir and Krista had been seen together at the club, and from the sound of it, they had been very friendly. Maybe the slayers were right and Krista was being manipulated. Maybe they weren't. Either way, he imagined that someone as charismatic and involved in the college as Krista wouldn't have much difficulty getting her hands on some phone numbers. It was an upsetting thought, but it wasn't his priority right now.

He didn't believe Ymir for even a second. But if she was involved, he did believe that Marco was walking into danger.

And he was walking into it blindly.

Jean cursed himself for listening to Erwin as he raced down the steps and to the rack that his bike was attached to. With fumbling fingers, he put in the code and yanked it free. He tore it from the rack and jumped on without bothering with a helmet.

As he peddled, his heart raced. Something cold slithered down his throat and into his stomach as he considered what might be waiting for him. Was this some elaborate trap set by Ymir? Would he get there to find everyone dead and the vampire waiting to set upon any of the slayer's friends who were foolish enough to show up? Did Bertolt and Reiner know about the story she was spinning? God, was she planning on turning them? Was she planning on turning Annie ? He didn't know what a slayer being turned into a vampire would mean in the grand scheme of things, but he couldn't imagine that it was anything good.

Was Marco going to die because Jean hadn't told him the truth?

The cold feeling spread throughout his body as worse and worse scenarios flashed through his mind. He could almost taste the fear threatening to paralyze him - or maybe that was bile. He definitely wouldn't be surprised if he ended up vomiting at some point in the night. The only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that if he didn't do anything, it could cost Marco his life. He had to - he had to -

He didn't know what he would do. What he could do. But he had to do something. Every bit of logic and reason within him told him to go back home and call Mikasa, and he wanted nothing more than to listen to it. The only problem was the obnoxious little thing he called a conscience, reminding him that he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try to do something.

Damnit. He was probably going to get both of them killed.

He'd almost made it to Reiner's house when he rode past an alleyway. Jean caught sight of three figures standing by its mouth out of the corner of his eye. It was only a glimpse, but with his heart pounding in his chest and adrenaline rushing through his veins, it was enough to make him slam his feet against the pavement to stop his bike. He jumped off and abandoned it right on the side of the street as he rushed over to the alleyway.

His first instincts had been correct. No more than a few feet into the alleyway, Marco stood facing a stern-faced Reiner and Bertolt, talking rapid-fire and peppering his words with expressive gestures.

"Marco!" Jean called.

Marco, Reiner, and Bertolt all turned to face him. "Jean?" Marco asked, blinking. "What are you doing here?"

Jean cursed under his breath as he raced over to his friend. "Stopping you from doing something stupid," he said. "What about that call made you think this was a good idea? Ymir-"

"Did she call you as well?" Reiner asked. His expression was a combination of stony, frustrated, disappointed, and angry. It was a little odd, but far from the highest priority at the moment.

"Yeah," Jean said as he stepped over to Marco's side. He and everyone else looked uninjured - good. Ymir must not have been able to try anything yet. "She tried to feed me some nonsense about you two being vampires."

Bertolt groaned and shook his head. "Reiner, if she told Jean and Marco..."

"She probably told everyone," Reiner finished.

"So?" Jean asked, scowling. "It's not like any of us would believe her. The important thing is making sure that she isn't able to do anything serious."

"Yeah!" Marco added. "I mean - I'm still kinda... struggling to wrap my head around this, and that all this is real, but... just because you guys are vampires-"

Jean snapped his head around to stare at Marco. "Wait, what?"

Reiner sighed heavily.

There was only one short moment between that sigh and Reiner starting to speak. However, that moment was enough for Jean's innards to freeze up with a whole new sort of cold.

Maybe he should have given Ymir some credit after all.

"You see, Jean," Reiner began, a whisper of regret staining his voice, "Ymir wasn't lying."

"Maybe not completely," Marco said, oblivious to how Jean's heart was sinking in his chest. Oh, he was definitely nervous - the sweat beginning to form on his face and anxious strain to his smile said that much. But he also sounded like he sincerely believed what he was saying.

Because he didn't know what being a vampire meant. But then again, neither did Jean, now that he thought about it. He knew that they were blood-sucking monsters, but... maybe that wasn't everything. The Reiner and Bertolt that he knew were good people. Marco was a naive goody-two-shoes, but maybe there was some merit to what he was trying to say.

In the time that it took for Jean to go through that train of thought, Marco continued speaking. "But just because you're vampires doesn't mean you have to be killers!"

A shadowed look fell over Bertolt's face, while Reiner just frowned. Jean felt his stomach twist, and Marco's smile twitched fractionally.

Yet he didn't give up.

"A-and even if you are," Marco stammered, "this could be an opportunity to turn over a new leaf! I mean, is there any rule saying that you can't be good? What's stopping you?"

Bertolt bit his lower lip. "It doesn't..." Reiner gave him a heavy look as he trailed off, and he took in a deep breath before finishing, "it doesn't work that way."

"Why not!?" Jean demanded. The words felt like they were shards of glass forcing their way out of his throat and his heart was all but ready to burst out of his chest. He knew that he should turn and run. If Bertolt and Reiner really were vampires, he had to turn around and run if he wanted to get out alive.

But his friends needed him. Marco for sure, and maybe, if he wasn't being a complete moron, Bertolt and Reiner as well.

Jean should have turned around and run away. Instead, he stepped in front of Marco and held his arms out. "Why can't you be good? Vampires might not be the same as humans mentally and emotionally or whatever, but you have free will, don't you? And we're friends, aren't we? So why does this have to mean anything? Even if..." Jean swallowed and tried not to think too heavily on the horrible implications of what he was saying, of what Ymir had said, even as he forced himself to acknowledge their existence. "Even if you've done horrible things, I'm sure the others would be willing to give you another chance if you're willing to atone and try to do good now."

"He's right!" Marco chimed in, stepping forward and around Jean. "I-it might not mean much, but I would vouch for you."

Bertolt faltered. Beside him, Reiner closed his eyes, just for a moment.

When he opened them, all of their usual warmth had been replaced with ice. "Enough of this."

"Reiner-"

"No, Bertolt. They know now. Ackerman knows. We need to show them that we mean business."

Jean was moving before he even finished speaking. He grabbed Marco's arm and tried to drag him toward the mouth of the alley. However, his friend fought back and remained rooted to the spot. Both of them spoke at once.

"H-hey, let not do anything hasty-"

"-Marco, we need to go now-"

Meanwhile, Reiner jerked his head toward Jean and said, "hold him back."

Then Reiner twitched, his gaze jerking off to the side for a moment.

Bertolt didn't seem to notice. He didn't hesitate in closing the distance between himself and Jean and, with far more strength than any human should - could - have, tugged him away from Marco, and pinned his arms behind his back. Jean flailed and yelled wordlessly, but was unable to break out of his grasp.

"I'm sorry," Bertolt whispered. "We were only after Mikasa, you weren't supposed to be - this wasn't part of the plan."

"If you're sorry, then why don't you do something!? " Jean shouted.

Meanwhile, Reiner was approaching Marco. He looked steady, unstoppable - aside from how he kept looking over to the side every few seconds. At the same time, Marco took one, two, three steps away, until his back was pinned to the wall.

Reiner's sudden twitchiness did nothing to soothe him. "Don't do this," he pleaded. "Reiner, please, we're friends, don't-"

"What's going on?"

All four of them froze. Despite his need to keep his eyes on Marco, Jean's eyes momentarily darted toward the opening of the alleyway. There stood Annie Leonhardt. She was beaten and bloody. At just a quick glance, he noticed that her shoulder was positioned oddly and there was a gruesome cut on her leg. Even so, for one bright, shining moment, he felt something that almost felt like hope. For a moment, he wanted to call out to her for help.

Then he remembered Ymir's call.

"Annie!" Marco called out, still hopeful where Jean could feel despair lapping at his heels. "Th-there's been some sort of misunderstanding. Maybe you could-"

"Ymir knows about us," Reiner interrupted, making Jean's eyes snap back to him. Where Jean, Marco, and Bertolt had all paused to look at Annie, he had gotten ahold of himself and re-focused his attention on Marco. A predator fixated on its prey. "She told everyone."

"Mikasa knows too," Annie said, voice empty. "She got away."

Reiner's expression darkened. "She got away, or you let her go?"

No sooner had he spoken than a twitch ran through his jaw. But of course, with all that was going on, Annie didn't notice it. It looked like she was going to say something, but she never got the chance.

"She should let Mikasa go!" Jean exclaimed. "Annie, you're a slayer! You can't do this. You're supposed to be a hero. "

Meanwhile, Reiner grabbed Marco by the shoulder and pulled them both around to face Annie. "I think you've gotten too attached," he said. As soon as he spoke, he visibly tightened his grip on Marco's shoulder as he spoke, jaw clenching a little tighter yet.

Annie scowled. "No! I just-"

"None of you are too attached!" Marco pleaded. "We're friends! Annie, Reiner, please- "

"Reiner," Jean hissed. "Annie. Bertolt." The vampire holding him swallowed audibly, but made no move to cut Jean off, nor did he try to join the current cacophony of voices. "Listen to me. If you do this, I swear to god, you will- "

"Shut up, Eren!" Reiner snapped.

Silence fell over the group. Or rather, everyone aside from Reiner, who went on to murmur, a hint of intermingled exhaustion and agitation creeping into his voice, "I'm not going to regret anything."

Jean stared. Marco didn't dare move, but he could make out the confusion on his face. Annie's expression morphed into a frown.

"Reiner," Bertolt whispered, "who's Eren?"

Reiner raised the hand that wasn't clutching onto Marco to scrub at the side of his face. "No one," he said. "Let's just get this over with."

He lowered his hand and pushed Marco into Annie's arms. "Kill him."

Annie grabbed onto Marco, whose expression had settled firmly into one of horror.

"Annie, please," he begged, "we can still talk this out, we can-"

"Annie!" Jean howled. "If you do this, you'll-"

"Annie has a soul," Bertolt called out, voice pitched loud enough to cut through the din.

Reiner raised an eyebrow at Bertolt. "So?"

" Look at her," Bertolt pressed.

So Jean looked. He saw that Annie's eyes were wide and her face was pale. She looked pained, but that could very well be because of her injuries.

Perhaps it was because he wasn't as kind of Marco, but to him, she just looked like a murderer in the making. Nonetheless, Bertolt pressed on.

"There are other ways for her to prove her loyalty, but you need to remember that she isn't like us, Reiner. You're asking her to kill a friend. That sort of thing-"

"Right," Reiner said, letting out a mirthless laugh. "We have to look out for the slayer's precious soul."

Reiner wrenched Marco out of Annie's grasp and snapped his neck.

Nobody had time to do anything. Nobody even had time to react. One second Marco was standing there, terrified but alive, and the next his lifeless body was falling to the ground. It was the sort of thing that was impossible to witness without receiving a permanent scar on your soul.

But vampires didn't have souls to scar, and as he stared down at Marco's body, Reiner's expression was utterly impassive.

"Annie," he said, voice empty save for a faint hint of irritation. "Someone will need to dispose of the body. Do you think you can handle that, at least?"

"Once I get the arrow out of my shoulder," she said. Her voice was choked up. If Jean didn't know better, he might suspect that he would see tears in her eyes if he looked at her. But he didn't. He wasn't able to look at anything but Marco's body.

"I'll help," Bertolt offered.

"Not yet," Reiner said. "We aren't done here."

With that, he approached Jean, eyes dark and heavy. Jean met his gaze with his own, eyes promising vengeance, for all that he knew that his death was probably upon him.

Yet when Reiner opened his mouth, it was to say, "now that you know we're serious... Jean. Because we're friends, I'm going to let you live. And if you, Sasha, and Connie stay out of the way, none of you will be hurt."

Faintly, Jean heard Annie murmur, "hypocrite." He couldn't tell if Reiner caught it, as his eyes remained fixed on Jean, waiting for his answer.

A smart person would have agreed. A selfish person would have agreed. If you asked Jean prior to that moment, he would have expected himself to agree.

Instead, he looked Reiner in the eyes and said, "we won't. Reiner, if you let me live, I promise that you will regret it."

Reiner gave a thin smile. "Good thing I'm willing to take that bet."

He stepped away and collected Marco's body in his arms. For a moment, it looked like he would pass it - him - to Annie, but he hesitated upon getting a closer look at her arm. With a sigh, he called, "Bertolt?"

"I really am sorry," Bertolt murmured before letting go of Jean and stepping away.

Jean wanted to charge at Marco's murderers. To fight for his body so that he would at least get a proper burial. To avenge his death. Instead, without Bertolt to support him, his legs gave out and he fell to his knees.

"Think about my offer," Reiner called.

With that, the trio left the alleyway, taking Marco's corpse with them.

And Jean was alone.

#attack on titan #snk #The Call #Jean Kirstein #Marco Bodt #Marco Bott #Reiner Braun #Bertolt Hoover #Annie Leonhart #Annie Leonhardt #Mikannie #as in. there is no mikannie this chapter #but this is a mikannie fic as a whole #my fic #my writing

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snkpolls · 3 years

Text

SnK Chapter 135 Poll Results

This month’s poll closed with 2,264 entries. The poll results were compiled by momtaku, /u/_Puppet_, /u/berthototototo, u/staraves

RATE THE CHAPTER 1,980 responses

Volume 34 started off on a high note with “Battle of Heaven and Earth” being our 7th highest rated chapter with an average of 4.61.

Easily the best action based chapter post timeskip

Very action dominated chapter this time. Just pure adrenaline, not many answers. Not complaining though, great chapter!

Best chapter since 122, hype levels were great, pacing was great, just overall great really.

What I loved about this chapter is that this was the first time I REALLY felt the suspense, the kind of suspense where it looks our heroes can not win the fight and all hope is lost. It was a very similar feeling I experienced in the first chapters of Attack on Titan where the fight against Pure Titans always felt like the enemy had the upper hand and our heroes were fighting a losing battle that they could only fight to mitigate the losses as low as possible

A chapter will less talk more fight. It's been a while.

I loved this chapter immensely. For months, this was the first I could finally rate the highest.

We are near the end, oh god, this was a a hell of a journey from 2013 as a manga reader it is for me one of the best manga I have ever read

Everything about this was awesome from bucket girl Ymir to all the previous titan shifters to bird Falco. There was so much I had to wrap my head around, so I’m going to have to read this a couple more times.

So many mysteries I just don’t want it to be rushes uwu and for us to only be getting a chapter per MONTH can you throw us some bones PLEASE

I’m rethinking everything I thought I knew about the manga

We're hanging on a razor's edge between masterpiece and ruin. Whatever happens, please let it be well executed. . .

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING WAS YOUR FAVORITE OVERALL MOMENT?

2,001 responses

This chapter was filled with lore, action and great individual character moments but seeing the fantastical forms of titans past brought into the fight was our favorite moment with 31.4% of the total. “Mikasa carrying the whole damn team” was second with 24.7%. The arrival of the flying titan (10.6%), the vision of Bertholt Hoover (10%) and Pieck rushing forward with the bombs (6.9%) round out the top five.

One of my all-time favourites probably, I absolutely loved all the character interactions as well as the amazing new titan designs.

Bert back! Bert back! Bert back!!! <333333

I really did like it, all those previous titans forms are interesting and see that the manga is very soon to end, I can't wait to know the end.

The chapter hasn't changed anything fundamentally but was exited to see OG Ymir

A demonstration of the despair and hopelessness of fighting Ymir

Bird!!! Falco!!! And!!! Ghost!!! Bertholdt!!! YES! YES! YES!

Really liked Jean and Reiners moments this chapter,

Bringing back old titans was really badass and intimidating.

Tentacle porn. That is all.

WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE COMRADE-RELATED MOMENT? 1,969 responses

With a battle involving Alliance teamwork and some visits from old friends, this chapter had many moments between current and former comrades. The wholesome scene between Jean and Reiner packed with an Armored Titan joke garnered the majority of votes (50.2%), with others favoring Armin’s vision of Bertolt (15.9%), and Annie’s reunion at the end of the chapter (14.1%).

jean saving reiner really moved me i really love these characters and after seeing them fighting it was nice seeing one saving the other. i mean jean had a really good reason to hate reiner and he previously said that he would never forgive him but he did and it was nice

Loved that scene between Jean and Reiner. Jean came a long way since his selfish oppotunistic days: Not letting Reiner fall, even though he really hated him. Actually willing to die. Great character development.

I'm curious to see, what effect this might have on Reiner: I mean he was being called a member of the survey corps again and therefore he was kind of being ""forgiven"".

Jean-Reiner-Bromance!

Connie x Levi canon

Ngl, I felt a great satisfaction as ghost Bertolt looked down on Armin who was suffocating from that giant tongue lmao

at this point I think that the ackertalk is sadly never happening. A missed opportunity.

WHO WAS THIS CHAPTER’S MVP? 1,973 responses

It’s Mikasa nation domination with 52.4% of the vote. There were a lot of great character moments but it’s hard to beat the one who stopped the manga ending prematurely! There was also appreciation for Ymir (12.8%) who brought in some interesting Titan designs and a great fight. 11.8% gave the nod to Falco for swooping in for the last minute save. 6.3% were hyped for Pieck’s no-nonsense charge, and 4.1% liked seeing Levi push himself in battle despite needing another couple of months in bed.

Levi has been severely injured for not even a week, yet he held his own and saved Connie AND Jean. I don't ever want to hear any whiny criticisms about this man ever again.

If Pieck dies we riot

Jean is best

Love Mikasa sm

MIKASA SUPREMACYYY GO BEST GIRL

Loved Reiner and Jean moment as well as Mikasa’s bad assery!

Mikasa was amazing this chapter

Pieck, the only one to make a move against Eren directly while the rest are too much up in their feelings. Best girl moment right there <3

Mikasa was so badass!! Love to see it

Mikasa was the BOMB in this chapter, loved that winged panel of hers.

My God I loved it, Mikasa was so badass, especially in that speech scene with her wings, Falco is best boy, I loved the interactions and everyone saving each other

THE CHAPTER IS TITLED “BATTLE OF HEAVEN AND EARTH”, WHAT DOES THIS REFER TO? 1,942 responses

The most popular interpretation of the title “Battle of Heaven and Earth” seems to be designating Ymir as the Heaven, and the Alliance as the Earth (42.6%), with the reverse of that being the second most popular (27.8%). In third came the idea that it relates to Ymir using the titans of deceased Eldians (20.9%).

A battle that people might die in (Heaven) or survive (Earth)

A battle which has consequences for both Heaven (Paths) and Earth (The World)

The alliance fighting in the heavens while the colossal titans destroy the earth.

It is a reference to Ragnarok.

multiple viable interpretations. the ascended vs descended, the heavenly winged mikasa vs the now devil of all earth ymir, the winged titan against the earthly titans.

Probably a weird take, but it reminds me 131. Eren being in the Heaven as his coping mechanism and Ymir being on the ground (earth)

I’m not sure but it’s in reference to the 4th chapter titled First Battle. Just like last chapter referenced the 5th chapter.

Heaven: Paradis. Earth: beyond the sea.

all of the above- YOU GET SYMBOLIC METAPHORS, AND YOU GET SYMBOLIC METAPHORS

because the battles are in the sky while on earth the colosus step down on earth

***ohhh heaven is a place on earth***

WE’D PREVIOUSLY THOUGHT YMIR WAS UNJUSTIFIABLY FRAMED BY HER PEERS. DOES LEARNING THAT SHE FREED THE PIGS AFFECT HOW YOU VIEW HER? 1,952 responses

Ymir apparently freeing the pigs was an unexpected opening for the chapter. For 34.4% this action meant that Ymir has always been #TeamFreedom. A sizable 18.8% think this relatively minor reveal makes her way more suspicious. Closely following that, 18% think it means nothing at all. It’s just a cool detail that resolved a mystery.

It's trying to say that since Ymir freed the pigs, she created this whole mess which I heavily dislike since it goes against what her character was in 122

When back in 122 everyone was foaming about tHe FuCkInG pIgS, I was rolling my eyes so hard, because to me the pigs were insignificant: it does not matter who set them free, they might have just run away on their own, what matters is that Ymir is the one they blame, which started the whole story. NOW, huh, the pigs might be important, or at least it really might have been Ymir who let them go, set them free. She couldn't get free herself, so she granted freedom to the poor animals.

I always just assumed Ymir set the pigs free, I didn't realize it was something people saw as ambiguous until now…

I wasn't expecting any of that sh*t, and now I'm certain that Ymir is the real baddie here

Peppa Pig is free

WHAT IS THE CONNECTION BETWEEN YMIR FREEING THE PIGS AND LOOKING DOWN AT THE ALLIANCE? 1,835 responses

The chapter opens with Ymir after freeing the pigs from the pen, but what does this mean? It’s close, but the most popular option is that Ymir is recalling that the last time she prioritised the idea of freedom the suffering was not worth it (29.9%), followed by the assertion there’s no deeper meaning (22.3%). A close third place of votes believe the connection is that Ymir has given up acts of selflessness as she doubles down on the rumbling (21.8%) and an even closer fourth place see it as her looking down on the Alliance as if they were the caged animals (21.4%).

Did she free the pigs out of compassion, or to spite her master? Is the rumbling everything to put the pigs back in the pen, or to get revenge on those who scorned Eldians?

How it started versus where it's ended up. All this torment and death because of something so minuscule because of human cruelty towards each other.

It seems like a parallel between Ymir freeing the pigs and Ymir freeing the past titans.

It shows she's an actor with agency and motivations, whether in her slave-like state or her god-like position

It was her first act of free will, and her routing the scouts it technically her third, so in a way they are parallel actions.

She looks at humans like pigs

She wants freedom, and the only way to obtain it is to kill the alliance

She's still in a cage, represented by the bones of Eren

She has been stewing in everything she has gone through for 2000 years and that might've turned her hateful.

it is possible that after looking at humanity for hundreds of years that she believes that it is not human's nature to be compassionate like her, but to fight each other until no one remains, and she has decided to speed up to what she feels is the inevitable conclusion so that her ghost can be gone for good.

WHY IS YMIR THE ONE ACTIVELY FIGHTING BACK AGAINST THE ALLIANCE? 1,919 responses

Armin notes that Ymir seems to be the one in control of the titans, why is this? The large majority at 54.5% believe her to be working side by side with Eren. About ¼, at 24.8% think she’s stepping in for Eren while she’s unconscious, while the minority at 20.7% think she’s overpowered Eren and is the real big bad of the story.

If she really wants the whole humanity to perish, then it means she lost all hope in humanity and is like an empty shell who has never experienced any drop of love. I feel that Ymir doesn't really care about protecting or helping Eren. She just wants to see an empty world - without humans.

The chapter was really well drawn. Also I see lots of new possibilities to happen, as Eren being a slave, Ymir perhaps becoming the final villain. it also makes to recall back to chapter 1 when I see Eren crying in front of Mikasa after some sort of "dream". This makes me think that Eren will eventually come to regret his actions but it's gonna be too late. thus he receives this dream but he is never able to see it through. Quite a sad fate. Although that's just a speculation on my part.

Armin questioning Ymir's role has me hoping for an Armin talk no jutsu with Ymir.

Eren and Ymir are unbeatable

Ymir/Eren are the only ones who can build titans right now. They baited Falco and Annie to return to get all of the 9 shifters near the founder again and they are planning something.

It warmed my heart seeing Ymir protecting her otosan as a thank you for bringing her with him on Take Your Daughters to Work Day 🥺

WHAT WAS YOUR REACTION TO ARMIN BEING FRENCHED BY A TITAN? 1,957 responses

In one of the weirdest moments in recent memory, Armin gets french kissed by a titan of the past. 42% of fans think it makes sense, as it was the only way to stop him from biting himself to transform. 36.1% feel bad for Armin as he’s gotten molested and now this, he just can’t catch a break. 14.2% are scared to ask if this constitutes fanservice, and 7.8% are too grossed out to think about it any longer.

When I wanted a non-Annie pairing for Armin, I wasn't expecting this. Stop harrassing my poor boy.

the chapter has already spawned Armin tentacle hentai and that makes it the best chapter in the whole manga

Armin capture thing was a little weird but makes sense IMO.

I know Armin being captured in that way has a narrative purpose, but that was disturbing in the end and i hate people will/ and are joking about it.

It didn't cross my mind that the frenching was to prevent Armin from transforming until I saw the vote option. Thank you.

WILL THE CANNONS AT FORT SALTA DO BETTER OR WORSE THAN THE BLIMPS? 1,920 responses

Fort Salta’s own forces don’t seem very effective as of yet, with the blimps almost completely failing, and now they turn to three cannons. Not a single respondent thinks they’ll do anything (Not that we gave them the option), though more think they’ll do nothing in red.

Them cannons, it will be effective.

They’ll get hit by the fort’s cannons but they probably won’t be very effective

KARINA SAW THE ARMORED TITAN GET CHOMPED IN FRONT OF HER VERY EYES. HOW WILL THIS AFFECT HER? 1,924 responses

Even though the Plot-Armored Titan escaped death yet again, all Karina saw was her son’s flesh mecha being chomped from afar. 37.3% are finding it hard to care about Karina’s struggle, but of the ones who did have an answer, 31.2% think the purpose of the death fake-out is so she can better appreciate when Reiner is alive and well later. Just under a fifth at 19.3% think she’ll do something rash while thinking her son is dead, unsurprisingly more than the 12.2% who think Karina would do something nice for once.

fuck karina

reiner always manages to escape death

JEAN POINTS OUT THAT THE SPAWNING TITANS ARE NOT MINDLESS. WHAT IS THEIR TRUE NATURE? 1,933 responses

It was a close one, but a plurality of respondents (38.1%) thought that the shifters brought forth by Ymir were the real deal, their souls controlled in death. Or their spirits? Their essences? Their… PATHS GHOSTS? Slightly fewer respondents (36.8%) think they’re just empty clones, Ymir simply not bothering with creating new forms since that would probably take a fuckton more years. 23.7% are somewhere between the two other options – maybe these shifters aren’t really present, but some of their will remains.

The fact that Armin saw Bertolt tells me that a part of the titan's "souls" still exist within them and they're being forced to do Ymir's bidding

The founding titan powers give her complete control over sentient shifters, and the attack titan powers (utilized by the founding titan) lets Ymir reach back in time and utilize the shifter's "essence" (maybe they all had a weird dream they don't remember), and obviously the warhammer titan is what allows them to take form. Beast titan go brrrrr

I have a small theory about souls of past shifters being imprisoned in some paths area or insubconscious mind of current titan shifters.

I’m conflicted between the two first answers but I hope there empty clones

At first, I thought it would be like Zeke's titans in Ragako (the anime showed their weird coordinated dance). But looking at Bertholdt, it seems they're not acting on free will but are still a bit conscious.

If you chomp one, do you get its power?

They are empty vessel's resurrected the only reason Armin saw Bertolt was becuase armin was the holder of the collosal titan! In my opinion of course

They are ghost/ spirits of the past shifter, which have a limited consciousness like zombies

They are moving according to the old users skills, like a saved “data”

They are the ones who volunteered to be in the walls when the Eldians escaped to Paradis. They sympathise with Eren and are fighting for him.

They are the real shifters working with Ymir

We see Bert crying right before we see his titan try to eat Reiner —— maybe he’s being forces by Ymir.

The souls of the previous titan holders can see what is happening though paths but they don't have control over it

Ymir created them via the shifters' own memories respectively. The Beetholdt panel might show hesitation of wanting to grab Reiner for example and emphasizes on the theme of Slavery. How to achieve freedom you must steal freedom (Erwn said he stole the world's freedom to achieve his own) or enslave/oppress someone or a group.

Ymir created them while eren is using them

souls being completely controlled but can be revoked original consciousness back,cringe naruto shit.

Through PATHS all is possible

ISAYAMA WENT ALL OUT WITH TITAN DESIGNS. WHICH ANCIENT TITANS DID YOU MOST ENJOY SEEING? 1,926 responses

The most popular design in Isayama’s titan showcase by a decent margin was the “Faceless Titan” (45.8%), with “The Thing Titan” coming in second (34.4%). In third was the “Minotaur Titan” (32.4%) and narrowly in fourth, the “Mummified Titan” (31.3%). Interestingly, 2/4 of the top designs appear to be previous Warhammer Titans, which is fitting with it being one of the most popular titan designs. Well, except for the one we saw in Ymir’s backstory that had hair. We all agreed that thing was atrocious.

I loved the previous titan shifters.

croco titan best boi

There's a lot of titans missing, so I'll say here that I love the dinosaur titan, the bearded titan and the ghost-like titan as well.

that 'wolverine' titan is actually a deer. It kind of blends in with Reiner's armor but you can see the antlers if you look closely.

always wanted to see ancient titan designs since learning about the inheritance and such, so this is a dream come true for a fanartist

Previously, it was left to our imagination what all these past Titan Shifters looked like, but thanks to this chapter (through the power of PATHS!), we got to see many of them for ourselves. A nice treat from Isayama, but also a mind-blowing one, especially with how they intervened in the fight.

Seeing all these past Titan Shifters appear like that was so interesting to me that it made me analyze each one and try to identify which was an old Jaw Titan, an old Beast Titan, an old Cart Titan, an old Warhammer Titan, and so on, so this chapter also felt like a fun guessing game in that regard!

Adding animals to the mix just feels like a try hard to make them scary. If he wanted them to have some real crazy powers it could've been done better imo, having these many animals just thrown around didn't make sense to me, we already got the beast titan and that bird titan. It's enough animals for me, especially since initially what made titans so scary in the first place was how identical they are to humans, only differing in their mounstrous size.

I never liked the idea of animal titans, it just feels so weird and out of place with no explanation for why or how they are animal-like. That being said, some of the other titan designs were pretty rad.

Show us Kruger's titan though

WHICH RETURNING TITAN DID YOU MOST ENJOY SEEING? 1,925 responses

In a chapter filled with new titans of the past we also saw some classic designs. By far the most hype-inducing one among fans was the Colossal Titan at 66.6%, followed by the War Hammer at 19.6%, Porco’s Jaw at 12.2%, and Marcel’s Jaw at 1.5%.

I loved how the one, true and only OG Colossal Titan of Bertholdt descended upon them like a fucking God

since there was no ""Other"" option in the ""favourite moment"" question, I'll say it here: Marcel's titan was my favourite moment.

Last chapter I was wondering if there'll be "another Beast Titan clone". We end up getting the entire museum lmao

The Colossal Titan, the God of the SnK world, appeared as the judge (while aldo not being himself, ironically) seriously, it was amazing

The Colossal Titan's entrance was like sweet karma, after how the SC murdered Bertold brutally and never cared one bit, they still couldn't get rid of him. SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKERS kekekek

THERE’S BEEN SOME DEBATE BUT IT SEEMS FRECKLED YMIR WASN’T THERE. IS THIS SIGNIFICANT? 1,900 responses

Ah, the innocent days of our freckled goddess… she may have turned out to be a regular girl, but where was she when our other old friends were running around? There were a couple of Titans who looked a bit like her, but none with both her little gremlin body and her distinctive nose and teeth. Does it matter? 63.8% of you don’t think there’s anything to it. Maybe she’ll be in the next chapter, or maybe Yams forgot her… maybe she’s chilling with Grisha and Kruger. 36.2% think there could be something more to her absence so far.

i hope freckled ymir came back ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ

I think it's highkey sus that we didn't see freckled Ymir's titan and that really gives me hope that Historia really will have an important part in the finale since it feels like Yams is saving freckled Ymir for a Historia moment

about freckles... i think her titan was the one that was gonna try and eat reiner/jean. dark hair, thin arms, small facial features.

I feel like her foreground omission isn't a big deal, since we're already two Jaws in, both of whom have more impactful connections to those present.

I want freckled Ymir back

ymir freckles did make an appearance, wasn’t she the titan attacking reiner as he was holding onto jean that mikasa slashed?

I believe Freckeld Ymir's Jaw Titan is shown when Bertholdt's Colossal Titan attempts to eat Reiner. It's very small though so it's hardly noticeable and I can't even confirm that it was indeed her Titan but it seemed like it.

YOU GAVE ME HOPE ABOUT FRECKLED YMIR DAMN YOU and thank you

SINCE ALL THE TITAN OTHER SHIFTERS SUMMONED THIS CHAPTER WERE DECEASED, DOES THIS MEAN ZEKE IS DEAD? 1,953 responses

Ymir summoned titans of the past according to Pieck, does that mean Zeke is of the past now too? The fandom is overall undecided on this one, as about half don’t know, at 48.5%. 32.7% are confident Zeke is still around, and 18.8% take this as confirmation of his death.

Zeke may not be dead, because the beast titan summoned last chapter could be Xavier's beast titan too. Because in one earlier Marley arc chapter, someone mentioned that "The beast titan is the same as ever". Meaning, Xavier's beast titan was also monke.

IF Zeke is alive, it means that Pieck is once again somehow "faking" her defeat and goes for the detonator but then she somehow runs into Zeke. They have a lot of history and too much stuff unresolved between them and because of eren/armin and zeke/pieck dynamics is that those 2 stayed on the founding titan..

I think Zeke and Bertolt are both stuck in paths, unable to properly die. I hope Zeke is just shackled making titans like we saw him in 120. That would be poetic, for the one who hates his Eldian blood so much to be forced to enact the one thing that made him hate himself (the existence of titans).

I just realized that in the last chapter I thought Zeke was there but it was the shot of the Marleyan general saying ""I am sorry""... I was writing about how Zeke cannot be dead, what are you all talking about, he is right there, then went and checked 134. Now I'm just sitting here with no answers at all. Zeke could be anywhere, alive or dead, no clue...

CHEKHOV’S EXPLOSIVES CONTINUE, AND THIS CHAPTER PIECK ENSURED THEY WERE RIGHT NEXT TO EREN. WHO WILL DETONATE THEM? WILL THEY BE EFFECTIVE? 1,121 responses

We asked what you think would come of the explosives that have been built up for eight chapters now, and collated your responses. First, who will detonate them?

Pieck: 182

Mikasa: 140

Armin: 134

Reiner: 99

Gabi: 81

Levi: 71

Connie: 38

Jean: 29

Annie: 23

Falco: 14

Eren: 6

Ymir: 2

Zeke/Onyankopon/Bertholdt: 1

There were also 7 mentions of the cannons that the Marleyans got ready to use this chapter actually coming in handy, and setting off the explosives. It’s also noteworthy that Pieck is thought of more than any other character to be likely to sacrifice her life to get it done. Additionally, many people who put forth Armin detonating them suggested this occurs through his titan transformation igniting them, not just him using the detonator.

In terms of success, 255 said that the explosives would either do nothing or overall be ineffective, with the most commonly given reason being that Eren is not in the nape. 250 said that the explosives will be helpful one way or another, including 7 who said they would end Eren’s life (Most of these involved Mikasa as the detonator). 9 people specified that they hope the bombs don’t do anything, 25 said nobody will detonate them at all, and 2 said it will be effective but will make things worse.

They will play an important role in the Climax, one way or another

warhammer can just throw the explosive after it deals with pieck

His neck is covered with more bones and the blimps didn't hurt them, but the explosives are as close as possible, so I think maybe they could work.

100% those explosives will be used in one way or an other, but i have a feeling that eren is not even there ;)

Annie will likely be able to get close to Pieck, as her titan is very agile and will activate the explosives that will be able to get Eren out of her giant's head

Could be anyone. The way they're set up, they must have some effect.

Could be Jean or Connie and maybe the rumbling will be paused or the Eren's skeleton will collapse as the story continues..

Connie and he will die doing so, doing few damage but someone will be like "hey he gave us a weakness we can exploit"

if they are effective, mikasa but if they arent it will be connie or jean

Doesn’t matter who detonates them it won’t be effective

Eren better pull a Reiner and transfer his consciousness. Isayama introduced that shit on purpose. Peick probably playing dead and will try to detonate to no avail.

Gabi is going to detonate them and save Pieck too. The explosion might help in the fight, but I doubt Eren is in the neck, my bet its Zeke who is in there.

Eren, once all the shifters are dead he will detonate it killing himself and ensuring all titans are reborn in Historias baby, truly freeing ymir and ending the curse of the titans.

Fort Salta Cannons will detonate them. They wont be effective because Eren is hiding in Paradis with the Warhammer Titan power (or he can transfer his consciousness to the rest of his spine in case he really is there).

Levi will detonate them to kill Zeke who is actually the one in the nape

Levi will give up on his dream of killing Zeke and die sacrificing himself to detonate it

Pieck will sacrifice herself to detonate the fuse and when she does she will fall to her doom. She will be content in knowing that it will work. She lits it up and falls at the same time. When shes falling she feels a great sense of acceptance, but all of a sudden Falco swoops in to save her with everyone on his back. As they watch it blow up the body keeps moving for eren was not there to begin with.

I think Ymir will use them against the alliance

Oyankopon drops a flying knee into the plunger in an act of self-sacrifice.

titanfolk: Kaboom?

Isayama: Yes titanfolk, kaboom.

WHY IS ARMIN HAVING THE VISION OF BERTOLT? 1,928 responses

In one of the more confusing panels of this crazy chapter, we see Bertolt standing over Armin. 39.6% believe it to be a fragment of Berthold brought back through the Colossal Ymir summoned, 25.5% think Bertoto has awareness in an afterlife, 25.1% think Armin is having a memory from his predecessor Burrito, and 7.3% think Ymir is just messing with Armin.

Grabbing Armin allowed Ymir to access Bertolt's titan, similar to how they have Zeke captive for his Beast titan

It's some kind of twist that's coming related to the whole predecessor memory stuff.

Some kind of PTSD vision brought on by being put in a Titans mouth

Since this was an ongoing issue how Armin didn't seem to have access to Berth's memories, he'll probably will see some of them soon. And especially the one, where Eren says to Levi that Armin will save humanity, not him. That will give him the last push to do whatever.

The scene with Bertholdt was a direct recall of when Armin woke up after eating him, and seeing him crying in the form of the Colossal Titan's skull and saying "it hurts" in chapter 85. My poor boy :( He was probably suffering from eternal torment in an afterlife/paths related place. Shifters' Hell would be a good word, as Ymir Fritz kinda had the same experience being enslaved for eternity

Him seeing Bertolt for the second time makes me think these two are going to switch places at some point. That being said it's not the end-end for Armin, and Eren is definitely reserving him a seat in whatever path underground there is.

I thought Armin was feeling the despair/hopelessness that Bertolt did while the warriors were undercover in Paradis. The paralyzing dread of the task before him, even though he is the "strongest titan"

Bertolt's individual "soul" still exists as a singular entity, that lives within Paths. Armin as his inheritor has a soul-link to him, can see him, recall his memories and even feel some of his feelings. However his presence here will serve for Armin to make some kind of realisation that will help conclude the battle.

YOUR THOUGHTS ON MIKASA IN THIS CHAPTER? 1,942 responses

We knew Mikasa would likely be chapter MVP but we wanted to give her an extra shoutout for a great chapter. Only 9.1% percent refused to play along. A majority of nearly 60% agreed with all our gushing about her performance, selecting all of the above. Of the individual entries, “Bless those ackergenes” (10.2%), “They were goners without her” (8.8%) and “She was unbelievable” (7.9%) were top selections.

Isayama in November said mikasa character is coming and this chapter felt like the start of it and hoo was this Mikasa's chapter. We have known that Mikasa is one of three main MCs, and isayama had been foreshadowing Mikasa's role in the finale so much. I'm excited to read the final 3 chapters.

goat mikasaaaa

HEAD EMPTY JUST MIKASA SUPREMACy

I LOVE MIKASA

Loving all the Mikasa scenes. It’s about damn time,

Mikasa going "Fuck it. Fight me. All of you, I don't care if you're shifter clones, I'll kick your ass." was a great bit of dark humour and a really well done character beat. If she has to go down she'll go down fighting with pride.

THIS CHAPTER MIKASA FOUGHT TO THE END AFTER LEVI DELEGATED THE ATTACKING ROLE TO HER, A REVERSAL FROM FEMALE TITAN ARC. IS MIKASA HUMANITY'S NEW STRONGEST SOLDIER? 1,940 responses

Levi has always been humanity’s strongest soldier, but this chapter had Mikasa being the only one fighting till the end. This being temporary due to Levi’s worn down body is the consensus, with 49.3% affirming its brief nature while 34.3% venture that Mikasa will one day take on this mantle permanently.13.8% believe she has surpassed even what a healed Levi would be capable of, and 2.7% do not think she’s surpassed him in any way.

I’m glad to see a lot more female empowerment with Mikasa being a major hit in this chapter. I got very worried with the amount of saving Levi had to go through and avoiding near deaths at some points.

Let the Humanity’s Strongest go down like a badass he’s always been, stop making him this pitiful please

LEVI NEEDS IMMEDIATE MEDICAL ATTENTION HE MIGHT BE HAVING INTERNAL BLEEDING FROM THAT EXPLOSION AND HIS LEG BEING BITTEN MAKES IT EVEN WORSE FUCK

I BELIEVE IN LEVI'S SUPREMACY

Mikasa Ackerman supremacy

that wings really said mikasa is the most freest person now

I’d love it if isayama would stop crippling Levi. I know its to get him out of the fight but cmon

NOW THAT WE SEE IT IN ACTION, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF FALCO’S BIRD TITAN? 1,944 responses

Most fans are behind this controversial development at this point, with 46.8% loving it, and 29.3% not loving it but feeling that it fits in the chapter. 17.4% have changed their mind from negative to positive after seeing it in this chapter, and 6.5% will always hate this.

Falco's titan is amazing. He saved everyone and it's his second transformation, he is goat.

I liked Falco saving the day :) It doesn't matter to me how he learnt to fly and control his titan so fast. Maybe Zeke helped him via sending visions? Or maybe Falco is talented? I don't know and I think we have more important thing to read about

Falco Being able to fly a few hours after Hange's death makes this chapter less good.

The Flying Titan is questionable but everything else are great

the design of Bird Titan is kinda cringe

Porco must be very proud of his son

KIYOMI AND YELENA ARE NOT ON THE FLYING TITAN, ALONG WITH THE AZUMABITO ENGINEERS. ANY PREDICTIONS? 1,911 responses

After Kiyomi forebodingly accepted the risk of the ship sinking that also contained Yelena and the Azumabito engineers two chapters ago, she has not been seen since despite Falco now arriving. The majority of you (70.2%) believe they’re fine, with the ship surviving Falco’s transformation, while just under a quarter (23.2%) believing both drowned on the sinking ship, and a slim minority (6.6%) believe they are with our main crew on the Flying Titan.

Yelena better be okay

I wonder where is yelena

I just want to learn how the rest of the Azumabito family are doing after Falco transformed into the Titan.

ISAYAMA’S DONE IT AGAIN! WHAT WAS YOUR FAVOURITE THROWBACK THIS CHAPTER? 1,936 responses

Isayama loves himself some throwbacks and this chapter was no exception. Mikasa giving a speech reminiscent of her Trost speech was the most popular option at 32.9%, with Armin dreaming of Bertolt crying similar to his dream of the Colossal Titan was a close second at 28.2%. Rounding out the top three was Falco taking a bird form in parallel with the Fort Slava scene we just saw in the anime.

It was like going back to Trost arc amazing wise... It was really a good one full of quotes from previous memorable moments of the series, while reading it i thought "wow, it really is ending

I think it significantly has to do with his memory of the colossal crying after RtS so perhaps it's a near death state experience of his predecessor for Armin

I'm also interested to see what Armin is going to do next. He seems to think back to Erwin whenever he gets himself into a pickle. I'm excited to see how he will use his titan in this battle.

Based on the parallels with Trost the only bomb that's blowing Eren out of his titan is Armin's Colossal Titan.

DO YOU AGREE WITH ANY OF THESE CRITICISMS ABOUT THE CHAPTER? 1,428 responses

No chapter is free from criticism, so we scoured discord, twitter and reddit looking for the most common complaints. The lack of character deaths seemed to be on many minds. “There was too much plot armor” and “Eren and OG Ymir are too OP” were the two options that got over 30%. Grumblings about the flying titan (26.1%) and Mikasa with a winged background (23.9%) were also common selections. I think what’s most telling is that ⅓ of respondents skipped this question entirely indicating that they had no major complaints at all

Everything was going 10/10 until the flying titan came and saved everyone. Another chapter with 0 deaths this late in the story.

I really love that mikasa with wings so much. It means for me she's the hope of humanity.she's ackerman so ymir can't control her... she will have a big roll at the end!

Being able to recreate old Titans is too OP

not too sold on the whole spawning in Titans and a flying bird that just recently got their power swooping in to save everyone

I'm completely sold on the idea of past shifters being summoned. Some people may say it's quite an asspull, but honestly, I've had a little problem with this series, which is that the Coordinate has been teased as the power of God itself but we've never seen that in action, so I'm satisfied. I'm not a big fan of the flying titan (teasing things is not the same as justifiying things) and the lack of character deaths made me think Hanji could have died this chapter, which would've been more meaningful honestly. Still, I'm very happy to say Isayama has surprised me once again.

WAYYYYYYYYYY TOO MUCH PLOT ARMOR

I know people are getting stomped on right now, but was expecting at least someone to die.

I don't mind the flying titan, but I would've liked just another hint that the beast titan can be any animal. The very first one in Ymir's flashback was an ape, could've been a dinosaur or something!

You never wanted to accept that this series was a shounen manga aimed at little boys, did you?

DOES THIS CHAPTER ADD EVIDENCE TO THE THEORY THAT HANGE’S VISION WAS REAL? 1,929 responses

On the poll team, our first step in preparing results is looking for spam. We identify that primarily by looking at timestamps and bursts of entries that choose to answer only a single question in rapid succession. Typically we see this behavior on shippy questions and those involving Gabi, so it’s been puzzling that in the last year the only questions to get significant spam are those involving Hange’s vision. Clearly someone, or maybe a few someones, are very afraid of ghosts.

With the spam entries removed, the Yes’s outweighed the No’s by 54-46 percent on the question of whether or not this chapter added evidence to the theory that Hange’s vision was real.

The ghosts of Eldians past are definitely going to feature in the endgame I think. The shifters are the most important but Hange's vision makes it clear that they're all "alive" in Paths somehow. Let freckled Ymir talk to Historia once more!!

I hate conscious development

I bet Hanji is screaming in the afterlife, wanting to be on top of Falco's titan

HAS THE FOCUS ON BIRDS IN THE ANIME OP/ED ADDED EVIDENCE THAT THE BIRDS IN PREVIOUS CHAPTERS ARE SIGNIFICANT? 1,913 responses

Bird theory (/birds being significant in some large way) has been gaining traction recently in the manga already, and then the anime made a whole ED theme about them and had them in focus in the OP as well. In one of the most one sided poll results in recent memory, almost 90% of the fandom feels this is evidence of birds being significant, while 10.7% say no.

birb

Birb

bird

Bird

bird

birds

DESCRIBE THE CHAPTER IN ONE WORD 1,330 responses

This month’s top 5 chosen words bear a resemblance to last month’s, specifically with 1-3 being in last month’s and 1 & 3 being in the last two months. “Chaos” is one more on the original side for this chapter.

Amazing [96]

Epic [50]

Awesome [48]

Chaos/Good/Great [27]

Cool [26]

And in a shocking turn of events, this question is being used to concoct recipes again? Well, it’s a bit of a stretch, but it doesn’t sound half bad.

Nuts

Lasagna

Goat

Cheesy

Chicken

Bertholdt

Chomp

Juicy

Exquisite

ISAYAMA RECENTLY ESTIMATED THERE IS 1-2% LEFT OF THE STORY. WHAT CHAPTER DO YOU THINK THE MANGA WILL END AT? 1,941 responses

I don’t know why Isayama does it, but he keeps assuring us the end is near. But we’ve guessed the end is near since… oh, RTS? Then Marley? Then when the Rumbling started? Remember when chapter 130 was the max? Don’t worry, the ride will end someday. 35.5% think chapter 139 will be the last, giving the final volume five chapters. 33% are sticking with 138, the classic four chapter volume. 28.7% think we’re strapped in for a little longer at 140+ chapters. 2.5% think we’re wrapping up in just two chapters. And 6 respondents think the next chapter is the last! Gonna guess you’re either hoping for Falco to crash into a tree or you’re just tired of this ride. (Sorry, the ride never ends.)

I'm worried about the pacing. While I was glad to have a glimpse of Bert (and Erwin) again, his appearance is long overdue. Along with a whole bag of other characters who need resolutions. I don't know how Isayama will delegate worthwhile endings to this huge cast and themes in 3-4 chapters.

Each chapter makes me feel there's 3 chapters left (and there has passed more than 3 chapters since I thought that for the first time xd)

Another amazing chapter. I see the story ending at Chapter 139. Three more chapters of action, deaths and twists, and one more epilogue chapter.

There's apparently not much of the series left but this chapter still doesn't feel like we're that near the end :/

I was expecting a lot of people to die this time around, but I guess that'll happen later considering we seem to have one more volume left after this one. That actually raises my hopes a bit on the ending not being as rushed as we were afraid it would be. And the return of the anime on top of that? Man, I'm not ready to say goodbye. :(

I'm worried if Isayama will be able to end every character arc. I mean, we're left with 1 or 2% of manga and there is this quite a lot of things to end. I just hope ending won't be rushed.

...it just added a lot of questions like Yams has to give us 5 chapters for the last volume at this point lol.

dunno how this ends with everyone being satisfied. Estimating that 3 chapters are left we need a conclusion to Reiner, Mikasa and the promised Eren and Armin confrontation. While there's mysteries like Zeke's whereabouts, what's going on w Historia, why can ymir manifest herself in the real world, what did eren mean by saying "you haven't gotten to the part where I eat our old man", Bertholdt shard of him getting spared by Dina and Mikasa's see you later scene. Not to mention an epilogue where if alliance wins we get to see how the world treats the eldians now. Im already losing faith that minor characters might be just cannon fodder and I find myself saying "Its Isayama. one chapter where it feels nothing happened doesn't meant we're getting a rushed ending" too often these days.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST HOPING TO SEE NEXT CHAPTER? 1,960 responses

It feels like there’s a lot to accomplish with so few chapters remaining. While Eren’s POV is still top on our wishlist (29%), “I don’t care just resolve a mystery, any of them” was the number two (19%). The third most common response was for Armin to come up with a plan (14%). Historia, Zeke and the more specific options all scored in single digits.

We need answers. NOW.

I liked this chapter but I’m getting tired of the mystery. We’ve been lead on for too long and there’s too many loose ends that need to be tied up already.

can we get eren’s pov now

Yes ! More Bertholdt please !!! I missed my big sweaty boy !

Where’s Freckled Ymir!!????!?!???!! Is Pieck okay!?!?!!!?!!

When will Levi die lol

Where armin

What happened to Armin!?? And does peick survive?

WHERE IS MONKE?!

Where the hell is eren?

I hope I can see Eren again

i hope isayama let levi kill zeke before he died , i want him to reunite with erwin and proudly tell him that he accomplish the mission

I just hope that Pieck and Armin are okay :((

i just want armin to be okay

I just want Eren/Mikasa, not all this shit(((

I just want to see Bertolt in the next chapter too

Wonder what is going on inside Ymir's head. Would also love to see Paradis' reaction to the ongoing massacre (if I didn't miss it somehow)

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 1,811 responses

While Reddit has historically stayed consistent, it’s been incredible to see the rise of Twitter and the fall of Tumblr as a dominant fandom platform. A year ago only 8% selected Twitter as their primary place for Attack on Titan discussion now that number is nearing 50%. Last month it became the most selected platform, surpassing Reddit, and this month proves it was no fluke.

wish i had irl friends who read the manga oof

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE CHAPTER? 526 responses

🧐

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Hentai

10/10 again !!! Isayama knows what he’s doing and I trust him with the ending❤️

2/10

GOOD chapter, definitely some eclipse vibes lol, Armin seemed to have realized Ymir is the one with the power and that they'll have to deal with her sooner or later to stop the rumbling. Next step is realizing Eren is 100% ready to kill him if he needs to. Maybe they'll stop trying to kill poor Zook for no reason now at least.

I loved seeing the alliance get there asses clapped

I hope Eren Yeager doesn’t love anyone from “Attack on Titan”.

But it's weird, I thought best Ymir was in the chapter too? She owes us so much, even more if SnK's afterlife is canon (Hange couldn't have known of Keith's death otherwise). And technically, Zeke could be dead like the others. First I was so bored by his constant plot armor but now...

The titan designs were got tier. Isayama came in clutch with these designs

There are still a lot of mysteries unsolved about the Titans and Eren's whereabouts is unknown. Would love to know more about the Ackerman blood too.

This poll is biased for not including statements against Mikasa and the Alliance.

If ymir creates the bodies of titan shifters, why did she give falco a bird form if she wants to stop them? Not saying it's a plot hole yet, but I hope there's a reason for it.

The title reminds me of the chinese saying of “天人交戰” which literally translates as battle between the heaven and human but means ones inner struggle. Maybe it is referring to eren’s inner struggle of wanting freedom and having to kill everything standing between him and freedom. Idk.

A lot of people have been trying to make sense why we're learning about Ymir freeing the pigs here of all places, but rather than it being evidence that she's some evil mastermind I think it's a representation of how devastating this cycle of hatred has been. In that first scene we see Ymir as a kind and empathetic girl who decides that though she can't free herself, she can still help these simple animals who she saw earlier also wanted to escape. But in the present, after suffering greatly for her kindness and being forced into servitude that lasted for countless years and even into death, we see Ymir not just as willing to commit a brutal omnicide on the rest of the world but as someone who is seemingly enslaving others in the pursuit of that goal - in many ways, she might be repeating the same crimes that were done to her by King Fritz.

After seeing the first episode of the new anime season and how well Mappa delivered on that, I cannot *wait* to see the crazy battle action of this chapter animated.

Armin, as expected, ended up a failure yet again. This is what Bertholdt, Erwin and Hange died for -_-

GIVE 👏 ARMIN 👏 A 👏GODDAMN 👏 BREAK

Armin is beginning to understand this always was about Ymir. After seeing her twice.

I really wish Armin could do something besides being tortured with doubt and getting captured.

BERT IS BACK BERT IS BACK BERT IS BACK BERT IS BACK BERT IS BACK BERT IS BACK BERT IS BACK BERT IS BACK BERT IS BACK BERT IS BACK BERT IS BACK BERT IS BACK

can levi die already let this old man reunite with his homies in shingeki no heaven. at this point death is like the only peace and/or freedom anyone can get in this series which is kind of a shitty message

I'm a fan of how fucking OP Eren and Ancestor Ymir, which is honestly how it should be. I never expected The Alliance to stand a chance, and they all got fucking wrecked. I'm completely surprised nobody died, I feel like that'll be changed next chapter, though; unfortunately. My main question is: What the fuck do The Alliance plan to do next without Armin and Pieck? Also, seeing the past shifters was fucking amazing and I didn't expect that shit.

Decent chapter. I gave it a 3/5, because it was a purely action, set-up chapter with not so great action scenes, at least compared to other great fight scenes in the series. Still, we got quite a few nice panels and interesting powers, so i will be looking foreard to the payoff.

eren better be in the next chapter idc 🙄‼️

Eren is trying to kill his friends, Ymir is not controling him, he is FREE. Accept it already.

FALCO WILL EAT EREN LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I need this tension between mikasa and Eren resolved in the following chapters....these two are the only characters regarding whom I'm totally not sure what tf will end up happening to them.

Hange would've loved to see all the different types of titans from bygone times. I wish they were still alive, I miss them.

I can't believe that best boy Bertholdt Hoover, the one true God of Destruction, is back, and as usual, the first thing Isayama does is make him cry. Absolutely incredible. This is all I'll think of this month.

I think the Ymir revelation was huge but other than that it was an anxiety-inducing rollercoaster of will they, won't they (die). Nothing much happened. I feel antsy

I think there is a possibility that eren and ymir brought back the shifters because they agree (mostly) with the rumbling and bert is crying because he knows what he has to do to ensure it

I wonder if Ymir regrets setting those pigs free. It was the act that set her life into further misery. I think it's beautiful but tragic how Eren really gave her back the will to fight.

I'm blown away

I'm honestly shocked at how incredible this story has become. Much like Bertholt I feel like I'm fine with whatever happens, because this whole journey and the world are incredibly cruel. And that does not make it bad by any means, it makes it more meaningful.

I'm not a huge fan of the fight scenes so I'd just like to see a satisfying climax and conclusion to the fight soon. Looking forward to Levi killing Zeke and all the reunions.

I'm really optimistic about Bertholdt possibly coming back, oh gods I hope he comes back.

I'm scared because this chapter didn't progress a lot of the story and we only have 3 or maybe 4 chapters left.

Isayama really got to flex his ability to design terrifying monstrous titans again.

It was an interesting chapter. It really works well if you think about it. Regular humans who are humanity's last hope, the strongest soldiers left are against two literal gods. Of course it will not be easy at all, Ymir summoning all those titans and everyone nearly dying multiple times is proof that you cannot defeat such gods that easily. Very excited for the next chapter to see how everything else plays out.

Maybe Anni can use her female titan powers and attract all of the former titan shifters - so that Mikasa detonates the Bombs.

Mikasa deserves a fuckn BREAK. like God she saw her family get butchered TWICE, first by humans, then by titans and now fckn Eren took away the one family she was desperately trying to protect. If anyone should've gone crazy like Eren it's mikasa. She does seem to be at her wit's end and ready to go above and beyond after saving everyone in this chapter and seeing the harm Ymir/Eren is causing. But since she's always done what she believed in, no matter what she does, I just want Mikasa's character to get some sort of happiness by the end of it. Is that too much to ask :/

Nobody said “The Eagles are coming” bad chapter 0/10. I’m kidding. But in all seriousness I really just want to see the ending already. I’m going to imagine it ends with the remnants of humanity rebuilding and promising to never be turbo-racist ever again while a tired Historia looks on with her baby saying “You are free” or something.

PIECK DONT DIE I LOVE YOU!!!!!

PIECK GREATNESS NEXT EPISODE

Reibert pandering for this chapter. It was a tad too fast but I love the focus on Reiner reacting to the CT attacking him. reiner could ALMOST die of the gayest way possible had Jean not butted in.

Screamed when Annie came on

Sets up for a super exciting finale

spare eren POV crumbs? dunno what this man been thinking since chapter 86

stanning bertholdt hoover isn't just a hobby, it's a lifestyle, a reason to breathe, he's also an art, the first gift you open on xmas, a hug from a loved one, he is everything I have ever wanted, and everything I needed.

hOLY FUCKING SH—

I cant see when or how it'll end

I did NOT expect Armin to get tongue porn'd. It's hilarious to imagine Annie seeing that HAHAHAHAHA

I really miss eren so much...AoT without him...it's long time we didn't see him pls isayama):

I rlly don’t see Ymir the same way and I hope it won’t affect the way I see Eren

I still miss Hange :(

I think Bertholdt was crying because his Titan was forced to attack and eat Reiner, against his own will

I think Connie will be the one to help Levi take down Zeke. Levi will live!!!

I thought it was very good. Not peak AOT but great! There was to many saves before death , reminded me of bleach. Seeing the old Titans was really cool and the action was great also.

I want armin and annie flashback in next chapter

i want EMA meet again):

I want Mikasa to choke Eren with the scarf

I want monke boi back :(

I want more Eren

I want more!!!!!!!

I wanted see Historia

I was really excited to hear we were getting more bertholdt

I was vey hyped because of this chapter and it delivered. During all the chapter i was like "someone's gonna die someone's gonna die" and when Berthold's titan appears and eats reiner's titan I screamed, but that son of a bitch is inmortal hahah.

idc idc come back to save pieck and armin please

It gives the idea of how powerful that titan god is, i think it lives up to Rod's description of titam god and how powerful it felt during Ymir's backstory (her form)

It got really hype when all the past shifters came over but Pieck’s bomb failing could be seen a mile away. Over amazing with some nice moments.

it is really, life and death situation. still, looking forward to this especially the ending. how will aot end? surely, it will be a legacy. a great masterpiece made by isayama-sensei.

it maintains a nice pace

It sucks. Manga went downhill since chap 105. The shit needs to end.

It was a classic high tension action chapter which I loved

IT WAS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯

It was amazing and full of a lot of lore!

It was amazing! I'd say this could be one of the best chapters written! So much action went on to the point where I hope MAPPA has a decent sized budget to animate it all. I'm really eager to see what the next chapter has in store. The main thing I'm looking forward to that wasn't listed here is basically what will happen to Levi. Is he going to survive through all this, or is he going to succumb to his wounds? Is he going to pair up with Zeke to take down Eren? Or is he going to stay on the "sidelines" untill the war is over?

It was fun, but somewhat inconsequential aside from Falco

It was good, i just need some answeres. Ymirs ability was so sudden.

It was great to finally see previous titan shifter forms, especially the beast titans.

It was just overall so epic

It was really great in terms of action but disappointing as well since there was too much plot armour - I was expecting at least one death.

it was really nice before the episode, it's all getting so intense and i didn't expect ymir to go in with a bang like this

It was really nice, all the symbolism, along with Mikasa with the wings was amazing.

it was super crazy

It'll probably be more enjoyable in the anime (if MAPPA even tackles this). Straight battles have never been this manga's strong suit.

Jean, dare to die and I won't love you anymore >:'(

Its up to ho wmany chapters we have left, if we have like 10 it was a very good one, if we have smt like 3 ( that i dont think so ) it was waste of time

Levi is almost certainly dead/dying

Levi might be a ‘slave’ to being a hero but he’s a victim of his own popularity which is preventing Isayama from killing him off. We know he’s not gonna fulfill his promise to Erwin because Levi never gets what he really wants, surprise surprise. But if he keeps getting injured and left out of action he’ll live the rest of his life with nothing but regrets.

levi please don't die

LEVI PLEASE SURVIVE :(

levi u ok buddy

Levi's leg is not daijobu,,, is he even alive

Lol who TF cares about Bert? He killed hundreds of thousands of innocent Eldians alongside Reiner and Annie. I still say he deserved what he got and is not worthy of any kind of sympathy, no matter how many angsty teardrops Isayama draws on his stupid face.

looking forward to seeing it animated.

Lots of weirdness, but still great

man the titan battles were great, seeing all the previous titans fight was pretty awesome seeing the hopelessness form the alliance really showed the reality of it all, now they lost 2 additional titans leaving Eren with 6 and the alliance down to 3

MAPPA gon be hurting

not enough lesbians

Not for the chapter but, All the openings and endings(lyrics and images) of the series have some details of the things we are experiencing with the latest chapters

That being said that Annie scene was pretty cringe. I expected that, but it was so cliché it's ridiculous.

ONLY BERT & PIECK HAVE RIGHTS

overall good! it was alot to process but im on board and excited for the next one

Pls end it Mikasa, you can do it.

Plz yams don't give me hope like this

Professor X vs. Magneto soon

really crazy. You have to admit that Isayama doesn't stop when it comes to creativity.

Really curious about Bertolt apparition

Pretty good. As much as I want the Alliance to win in the end, their utter defeat this chapter felt more realistic, than if they managed to actually do anything.

Really liked Jean and Reiners moments this chapter, overall a good chapter that flew by. Hope quickly turned into desperation but Falcons teams arrival means they got one more chance. Armin capture thing was a little weird but more or less makes sense.

Since the rumbling started, this series has became more dull and predictable. Loads of plot armor, stupid teosts only for shock value and weird pacing are major problems in this arc. Too bad, because the post timeskip portion of this manga up until the rumbling was one of the best pieces of media I had seen. But now I am only expecting the boring cliche shonen ending.

Still hate Annie being back, she can still go.

Still think Mikasa is gonna be the one to either kill Eren or bring him back to his senses somehow

The afterlife thing still hasn't answered and I wanna know how's the corps doing T_T

The Alliance got dumpsterd yet no one died. They'll probably die in all in one chapter.

the art, as usual, was really good

There are still some mysteries to solve and things to do (like EMA final convo, which I don't think will last just 2 or 3 pages) in so little time, I'm kinda worried to be honest.

This chapter is full of plot twists, I didn't even expect the storyline to turn out like this.

This chapter is painfull and more action at the same time and i hope there are still chances that there old happy days will be back

This chapter was actually exciting! And thank goodness Bertolt is finally back!!!!! So many people assumed he was finished and forgotten, but a small group of us knew Isayama wouldn't leave us hanging without his closure. I'm looking forward to learning why we're seeing him now and whatever's going to happen to Armin

This chapter was breathtaking and hard to continue due to the speculations that someone was going to die. I feel like the next few chapters is where things start to get serious if not already. I found it very enjoyable yet nervous at some moments.

This was so crazy and hopeless like it's peak apocalypse even more than rumbling. It's a nightmare I love Isayama

Too many last-seconds saves kinda ruins the tension.

umm it would've been better

Ummm this chapter had too much suspense

uuuuuuuhhh nothing else i guess

Very PogChamp

We are going to get the best manga ending ever.

Nobody is free yet...

MAN WTF IS HAPPENING I READ TBE MANGA BHT HAVENT REREAD IT AND I FORGOT WVERYTHING MAN WTF

#snk polls #snk poll #snk poll results #snk 135 #snk chapter 135

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swanlake1998 · 3 years

Text

Article: Julie Felix: the brilliant Black ballerina who was forced to leave Britain

Date: March 3, 2021

By: Steve Rose

(CW: racism, anti black racism, police brutality, violence, murder mention)

She was told there was no room for a ‘brown swan’ in the London Festival Ballet, so she went to the US. There she found enormous success, dancing for everyone from Michael Jackson to Prince

The turning point in Julie Felix’s career came in 1975. A student at Rambert ballet school in London, she was selected to dance in Rudolf Nureyev’s production of Sleeping Beauty with the London Festival Ballet (now the English National Ballet). Nureyev was the god of British ballet – and he lived up to his reputation on the first day of rehearsal, Felix recalls. “He was late, but everybody said he was always late. All of a sudden, the doors flew open and in he came. He was well renowned for these big boots he used to wear, and a big fur coat. He took the coat off like a matador and threw it so it slid across the dance studio floor. Everybody jumped up and stood to attention. He was there for probably about half an hour.” At the time, 17-year-old Felix was awestruck. In hindsight, half a century later, she is less impressed: “Talk about unprofessional.”

In the fairytale version of Felix’s life, having acquitted herself on stage with Nureyev, she would have joined the London Festival Ballet and become the first Black British dancer to begin her ascent through the ranks of a British ballet company. Instead, she was told she was a “lovely dancer”, but was not going to be given a contract, “because of the colour of my skin. I would mess up the line of the corps de ballet, because you can’t have a whole row of white swans and then there’s a brown one at the end.”

Felix was stunned: “It hit me like a thunderbolt.” Her mother was white British and her father African-Caribbean, from Saint Lucia. She had never thought of the refined world of ballet as being what we might now describe as institutionally racist. “It sounds ridiculous, but because I didn’t experience any racial issues or difficulties before that, I didn’t think there was anything wrong with the colour of my skin. I thought that I was talented and that would be enough.”

Having grown up in Ealing, west London, in the 60s, Felix certainly knew about racial difference. She rarely saw any faces that were not white in the neighbourhood or at school, she says. After her parents had met on a bench in Hyde Park, her mother’s family disapproved. “They said: ‘If you marry that man, we’re going to disown you.’ And my mum just said: ‘Well, fair enough, I still want to marry him.’”

Her father, who worked as a foreman at the Hoover factory, was quite the charmer, says Felix. “He was the proudest man. He would paint the front door a different colour every year. He was always up the ladder washing his windows. He would grow fruits and vegetables in the back garden. But I would say my dad had a big chip on his shoulder.”

She describes how he would dress like a dandy, in 40s suits and spats, even if he was just going to do the shopping. “He would always berate the grocers and say: ‘You’re picking the bruised fruit and vegetables because I’m Black. You think I can’t see this?’” She laughs. “Why would you move somewhere if you’re going to spend your life being concerned about the way other people look at you and your colour?”

There was an incident when she was eight or nine, when her father returned from work very late, his shirt ripped and covered in blood. A colleague had attacked him outside the factory gates with a meat cleaver on a chain. “He didn’t like, one, the way my dad spoke to him and, two, because my dad was Black,” she says.

Culturally, the Felix household was “100% British”, she says. She had no connection to her Saint Lucian family, although she would see her British grandparents in Essex regularly (relations had thawed when Felix’s elder sister and she were born). Musically, her father liked American crooners such as Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole; her mother preferred classical music and had once aspired to be an opera singer. “So, when it came to my wanting to dance, there was a local ballet school around the corner in Ealing that I would go to, and Mum said: ‘Well, as long as you keep working hard and you’re enjoying it, I will fund it for you.’ She wasn’t a pushy, stereotypical ballet mother, but she knew that I loved it. And because she’d been stopped doing what she wanted to do, she was there 100% for me.” When she passed the audition for the Rambert, her parents could not afford the fees; Felix won a grant from the Inner London Education Authority, which paid 75%.

Felix says no one is “born to dance”, but, as a student, her passion for ballet was boundless. “I can remember the feeling of waking up in the morning, earlier than I needed to, getting on the underground and going into Notting Hill Gate, where the school was. I was the first one in the door. The cleaner was still there.

“I could not get enough of it. My friend and me would stretch and practise our fouettés in the lunch break. We’d be the last ones out of the building. Get back on the train, go home. My feet would be bleeding. I’d have blisters all over my toes. And I didn’t care. I just knew this was what was required. I soaked my feet in salt water, dabbed surgical spirit on them to get the skin to heal and get them dried out so that I could get up the next morning and get on that train again.”

After all her dedication, being rejected for her colour was devastating. “It didn’t last long, mind you,” she says. “Part of my personality is: sink or swim. And I thought: ‘I am not going to sink here.’ So I just flipped it around and just said: ‘Watch me. I’m going to show you I can do it.’”

She didn’t have to wait too long. The previous summer, the Dance Theatre of Harlem (DTH) had come to perform in London. This was a pioneering Black ballet company founded in 1969 by Arthur Mitchell, the first top-flight Black dancer in US ballet. While they were in town, Felix went along, auditioned for Mitchell and was immediately offered a contract. She declined. When her teacher at Rambert found out, “she absolutely hit the roof”, Felix recalls. “She said: ‘You can’t pick and choose. You’ve been offered a job!’” Fortunately, the DTH returned to London a few months after her Nureyev experience. Felix auditioned and was offered a job a second time. She did not turn it down.

This time, Felix’s skin colour was to her advantage, although working with an all-Black company in the US was a curious reversal: “I’d gone from all of my ballet training, and growing up not really being aware of anything to do with Black people, to going to New York and there’s no white people.” Before relocating to New York, Felix had never had a passport, left the UK or flown in an aeroplane.

“Within two weeks of being there, Arthur Mitchell said to me: ‘We’ve got to knock the British out of you.’ And I took umbrage, because I’m really proud of being British,” Felix says. In retrospect, she knows what he meant: “It was the wishy-washy way I approached my technique and my ballet training. But it wasn’t just about that; it was everything that Arthur Mitchell taught and portrayed and wanted us to portray within our work. He wanted to show that Black people really can do this.”

DTH’s sense of purpose aligned with Felix’s own. She stayed with the company for 10 years, earning her place as a soloist and touring the US and beyond (including a satisfying return to the Royal Opera House). Life in the US put British racism into perspective, says Felix. In her first week in New York, she witnessed a young Black man being shot dead in the street by two white police officers for shoplifting. A touring performance in Mississippi in 1978 had to be cancelled because the Ku Klux Klan staged a protest outside the theatre, in white hoods, burning cross and all. “No words can describe that feeling,” she says.

There were more good times than bad, though. Felix shared the stage with, and danced for, luminaries from Ronald Reagan to her hero, Luciano Pavarotti. She danced with Lionel Richie to All Night Long at the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics closing ceremony; visitors to her shows included Michael Jackson and Prince. Jackson wanted to cast the dancers in his ill-fated Peter Pan movie, she says. He came to a matinee in Pasadena, California, supposedly incognito, but in full Jackson regalia: black sunglasses, Jheri curl and military-style outfit, with a complement of bodyguards. “I was annoyed, because I was there to deliver the performance, but you had all these girls screaming in the audience,” says Felix. “Anyway, after it finished, he came backstage and said to us, very, very quietly: ‘I really enjoyed your performance. I just think you’re fantastic.’ What a humble man.”

A year later, Prince came to a show, by coincidence at the same theatre. He was similarly “incognito”, in a sequined, hooded purple cape. He never took the hood down. “At the end of the performance, he got back in his limo and left and didn’t say thank you, hello, anything. Really quite rude.”

By 1986, aged 30, Felix was beginning to feel the physical toll of ballet life. She also missed home. She returned to the UK and became a teacher and remedial coach for Sadler’s Wells Royal Ballet, first in London, then in Birmingham, where the company relocated when it became Birmingham Royal Ballet, in 1990. She married and had three daughters (none of whom followed in their mother’s footsteps).

She then became head of dance at a local school. Now it was her turn to “knock the British out” of her students. “They don’t seem to know how to really push themselves,” she says. “Ballet is really painful. If you don’t feel that, then you’re not doing it properly.” Ballet has also always required a highly specific form of physicality, Felix points out. “It needs very arched feet, it requires good natural rotation of your hip sockets, a slender body, long, lithe muscles, long neck, small head.” Regardless of talent or musicality, she says, dancers who do not conform to this body type will struggle. Perhaps it is this inherent discrimination that has made other forms of prejudice easier to disguise.

British ballet has made some progress since the 70s, but it could do more. Birmingham Royal Ballet, for example, had a successful workshop programme with local schools, whose pupils were often from Black, Asian or minority ethnic backgrounds, but such programmes seem to have “fizzled out” as a result of local authority budget cuts, Felix says. On the other hand, there are institutions such as Ballet Black, which advocates for diversity in professional ballet. At the time of its founding in 2001, there were still no women of colour performing in any British company. The Royal Ballet recruited its first Black, British-born male dancer, Solomon Golding, only in 2013.

Felix is not convinced British ballet has turned the corner: “I still believe that we’ve got ballet companies who will take a few people of colour just to be politically correct.” However, she was heartened by the appointment of the Cuban-British dancer Carlos Acosta as director of Birmingham Royal Ballet in 2020, although the pandemic has so far curtailed its activities. While all British arts are vulnerable at the moment, ballet – with its high demands for time, labour, space and personnel – is especially so. Now based in Cornwall, Felix has made do teaching over Zoom for the past year. She is not complaining: “It really is a lovely place to be locked down.”

Felix’s skin colour began as a factor that counted against her, but it became an animating force in her career and led to a wealth of experiences and successes she might otherwise not have had. With that satisfaction, the anger she feels for her 17-year-old self being told her brownness would “mess up the line” has mellowed a little. “Their choice of not accepting me enabled me to find something within myself that I probably would never have known was there,” she says. “And then to open up this whole world for me. So I can say that hatred was turned to gratitude.”

#article #julie felix #ballet #anti black racism #racism #murder mention #police brutality mention #antiblackness tw #violence tw

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scandeniall · 4 years

Text

we’re us

pairing: atsumu x f!reader

summary/warnings: after atsumu almost lost you he decides ts time to make things official. But he’s overly sweet and its weird. Thats not who you two are / mentions of near death, implied sex, hes grossly sweet for part of it, mentions of bad parents

a/n: this is a PART 2 to the rulers. a few of you asked and i decided to give us a happier ending than what we wre left with in rulers. (rulers is 12k words and gives the context to this so kinda impt!)

wc: 2k

“Would you fucking stop,” you scowl swatting at the hands on your waist as you stumbled into the office. You roll your eyes at the way your desk chair is pulled out for you. “No can do. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.” Atsumu replies ignoring the frown at him sitting in the desktop. His hand subconsciously takes yours stroking at the skin and you resist the urge to take your hand from him. He needed it.

It’d been three months since the incident and since you’d gone into a coma. You stayed in it for a little over a week. Atsumu remembered how he numbly took in the doctors diagnosis. Something about a complication from the surgery or maybe it was blood loss from the bullet wounds? Something about a seizure thus prompting your state. All the medical terminology confused him.

After he finally decided to visit three days later he came as often as he could. He assigned people like Oikawa to do press releases on his behalf. It was already hard enough having to hear events recounted over the news. He couldn’t be the one to talk about it.

“President of Yokohama (Y/L/N), (Y/F/N) caught in apparent shootout with parents among others. The 23 year old was rushed to the hospital by non other that Vice President Miya Atsumu. As of now it is known that (Y/N) has fallen into a combs and that Miya will be taking over. The voting families are likely to vote over a course of action within the upcoming days.”

One thing Atsumu made sure to do was to get your recording. You risked your life to get a confession out of your parents. A confession that they had plans to kill you. He sent the recording off and following their own minor recoveries they were promptly arrested. Trials took long and there’d be no way an official one would happen until you were ready, but nonetheless he was happy that both them and Terushima were out of your hairs.

The day you woke up Atsumu actually shed tears. It was something he denied and claimed that the hospital fumes were finally getting to him when Osamu teased him. But everyone knew better. He’d take your condition worse, a factor that even your little sister teased him on. “(Y/N’s) strong and a bad ass. She’ll be fine. Stop acting like a wimp” he couldn’t even scold the 14 year old for the word choice.

Even though the first face you made was a grimace, followed by confusion and agitation he couldn’t help but think you were beautiful. He stayed in the room as they took the feeding tube out, gagging himself at how gross it all seemed. He held your hand as you took sips of water all disoriented.

A few days after that you were able to go back home and he took you to his. Your sister had been staying there and there was no way he’d let you go back to neither your parents or your own now trashed house alone. He’d wheeled you out of the hospital demanding you to keep your head down at the flashing lights and journalists. He’d buckled you in like a child despite you rolling your eyes and complaining and driven you to his.

He made sure you took all your medications and attended your personal physical therapy sessions. A month in when you wanted to go back to work fully he refused, citing that until you were fine he was the one in charge. He could and would disobey your orders to keep you safe. “I swear once I’m fine I’m going to fucking fire you.” “How do you fire the family head sweetheart? Try again.”

Now two months later you were heading back into your office for the first time. With non other than your shadow practically attached to your hip. You watched as he animatedly recounted some events from his latest press conference and boring financial meetings as his thumb subconsciously rubbed circles into onto the back of your hand. Your hand was slightly sweaty but you resisted the urge to pull away. Ever since you’d found out that you technically died, Atsumu had been more touchy than normal.

“Hey Tsumu?”

The call of his name stopped him mid sentence as his eyes peered at yours with concern. He started questioning if you were ok or in pain and if it here time for your meds.

“Thank you. For everything. Stepping up, I know this isn’t easy for you, especially since it was so sudden. And for watching after my sister and me.”

“Well it is my job as VP. Ya know when ya can’t do your job. It’s annoying but-“ he chucked as you stood up and told him to shut up. His hands found your waist both as a way to stabilize you and to resume physical contact as you eased in between his legs. “You talk too fucking much,” you mumble arms locking around his neck.

“I was trying to be serious and thank you and here you are making me regret it.” You don’t miss the way his eyes glance at your lips as you talk. You continue playing with the ends of his hair as you talk. “I appreciate it a lot. Even if you are overbearing and annoying.”

“Yeah well, we’re us. And you know I’d take a bullet for ya”

“Too bad you didn’t take this one,” you muse using one hand to motion at your healing side. You smiled as his hands slipped under your sweatshirt to caress the scar.

“I wouldve.” He says the words without missing a beat while you frown. “Being sweet doesn’t suit you. Where’s asshole Atsumu.”

“I almost lost ya. I was the one who held ya in the backseat as you bled out. I had to get rid of the car. Couldn’t get the smell, stains or memories out. I was there when you flat lined (Y/N). Sorry if I cant act normal like the shit didn’t happen.”

“All the more reason to act like the man I fell in love with,” you shrug. “The non punctual asshole who doesn’t listen to half the shit i say. The smartass who cares for his friends and family more than he lets on. The one so committed to what he does that id never trust anyone else even a fraction as much. Life is short. Clearly,” you snort referencing your own situation.

“No point in being different. What’s done is done. Besides, we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. With the trial and reformations and-“

“Ya just said you loved me.” Your face scrunched up at his smug one. His voice had a happy lilt to it. “If you didn’t know that by now you really are dumber than I thought. Pretty sure it’s been obvious.”

His reaction was to hop off the desk, this time his arms coming around you in a hug. “God, I’m so in love with ya.” The words came whispered in your ear and you couldn’t help but melt into the hug. “Good or this would’ve been really awkward.”

“Wait a fuckin’ second-“ you eyed him in confusion as the embrace ended you stepping back to cross your arms. “I said i was gonna confess first. Ya just had to mess things up. Take it back. I bet Samu that i would” You looked at him in disbelief. “On second thought-“

Your words are cut off by his hands pulling your hips into his. “Will you be my girlfriend. Let’s make it official.”

“What did i tell you about being sweet,” you scold the both of you leaning in your lips hoovering over each other. “Give me a few more weeks to worry about ya alright?” You nod hands locking around his neck. “Deal. And yes I’ll let you be my boyfriend.”

“Gonna ignore that for now,” before you could react he turns the two of you so that your back was against the desk. His lips ghosting the shell of your ear as he tells you to sit. Before he steps back eying you. “Can’t believe I almost lost this.”

The words are whispers to himself and you almost didn’t hear him as his hands trail up your thighs. “You’re so beautiful.”

“I’m literally in sweats. A far cry from how you usually see me” you tease leaning back to shift your weight into your palms. “Still the most beautiful woman in the world.” You ignore the warmth that blossoms within you opting to grab at his wrist. “I thought I said to stop being sweet.”

You thought you hear him say something about your deal it it’s quickly forgotten as he slots himself between your legs and roughly presses his lips against yours.

—-

A few months later

“Well it’s done. How d’ya feel.” Atsumu is the first to speak out his words filling the space within the car. “Like shit. But I’ll live.” You mutter honestly. “Ya want to take a few days off from the office?” His hand rubs comfortably up and down your thigh.

“And have you try and mess up my office. I’ll pass,” you sigh out, head coming to rest upon the headrest. “Sorry my taste is better than yours.” You flick your middle finger at him before closing your eyes. “Yeah well redecorate your own damn office. Oh wait- it’s not as nice as mine”

His laugh fills the car and you smile as his lips press against the back of your hand. The two of you sit in silence, the forming clouds outside seeming to match the conflict in your heart. “It’s just weird you know.” He nods in support.

“I know they tried to like kill me but— they were still my parents. They taught me everything I know.” A silence fills the car, Atsumu not really knowing what to say. “I hate that you’re so quiet these days.”

“I’ve lost at least 7 years of my life having to worry about ya through all this s-OW!” You roll your eyes as he rubs the arm you’ve just hit. He complained about you having a good arm before telling you to look at him.

“You’ll be fine. Ya got me and-“

“Is that supposed to be comforting?”

Shaking his head he continues,” and your sister and Granny. Our friends, and the whole city behind ya babe.”

You found yourself slowly nodding. You’re right,” you mutter more to yourself before leaning over the console to press a kiss on his cheek. Atsumu gives you a look before complaining. “That’s all I get. What a shitty thanks.”

You notice he slightly reclines his seat a smirk now on his face. “You’re definitely back to being annoying,” you scoff. “If you think I’m gonna ride you ride now you’ve lost it.”

“I’m just getting comfortable. What’s so bad about that. But what’s 1 kiss.” You ignore the way his hand creeps higher as you lean over the console. “It’s not even gonna be that if you don’t meet me halfway.” His eyes soften for a minute as he complied allowing your lips to connect. “Ya know what always makes me me feel better,” he mumbles lips against yours.

The hand that had been on your thought moved to cup your jaw. “If you say sex I’m gonna walk home,” you breathe out as he presses fluttering kisses along the side of your neck. He only laughs. “That and spending money. Let’s go out.”

You ignore the shiver that runs down your spine as his touch gets harsher and you can feel the beginnings of a pain in the ass bruise at the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Only if you’re buying.” That causes him to stop, his eyes catching yours. “Aw c’mon ya have more money than me.”

“It’s official. I hate you,” you deadpan pulling away to sit in your seat. “I’m just joking. Lighten up woulda,” he teases the two of you fastening your seatbelt. “Just drive already.”

“Hey, (Y/N). I love you”

“I love you too. Now I think I deserve a treat right?

a/n: well one day i may add on to this universe but for now my longest piece of work is complete. Are there things id do differently? absolutely but for a total of 14k words between the two pieces? IM PROUD. thank u if u read it ily. Untl the next celebration yall

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #atsumu fluff

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softlass27 · 4 years

Text

Robert Week 2020 Day 2: missing scene/rewrite scene

After letting Rebecca take Seb to Liverpool, Robert told Aaron, “I wanted to tell you, I just knew you’d talk me out of it.” In my alternate version of the 2nd November 2018 episode, Robert lets Aaron talk him out of it :)

(aka fuck emmerdale and their ridiculous “a child belongs with its mother” attitude, even when it makes ZERO sense)

AO3 link here

Robert trudged from Keeper’s Cottage to the Mill on autopilot, barely taking notice of Seb’s babbling as he pulled out his keys and opened the front door.

“Never ends, this, does it?” Aaron called over his shoulder as they entered the living room, chucking teddy after teddy into Seb’s toy box.

“Seem to spend half my life clearing your stuff away, mister,” he grinned and took Seb from Robert. “When’re you gonna start picking up after yourself, eh?” Seb gurgled happily and grabbed Aaron’s beard.

Normally Robert would laugh at the sight of his two favourite people together, probably make some sort of joke about charging their son rent or teaching him to use the hoover, but he didn’t have it in him, not today. Aaron’s smile dimmed when he caught the look on Robert’s face.

“You alright?”

He shook his head wordlessly, mouth pressed together in a hard line.

Aaron came towards him, close enough that Seb was slightly squished between their chests, and laid a hand on Robert’s arm.

“Hey, what’s the matter?”

Robert braced himself for the impact.

“I think – I think we should let Seb go.”

Aaron blinked uncomprehendingly, hoisting Seb higher in his arms. “Go where?”

“Go with Rebecca. To Liverpool.”

There was a beat, then –

“Sorry, you what?”

“It might be for the best if – ”

“No, no way.” Aaron took a step back again, shaking his head and tightening his grip on Seb.

“Aaron – ”

“No, Robert.”

“I’m trying to do the right thing here, would you just listen to me for a minute? Please.”

At the quiver in Robert’s voice, Aaron’s incredulous glare softened by a fraction. He exhaled shakily and looked down at Seb, who shot him a gummy smile in return.

“He’s due a nap,” he said quietly. “Put the kettle on while I take him upstairs.”

They settled on the sofa facing each other, knees pressed together and each with a mug nestled in their hands.

“Okay, talk to me,” Aaron said and blew on his tea, open and patient in a way Robert never could have imagined him being a couple of years ago. “What’s brought this on?”

Robert floundered for a moment, unsure of where to start.

“Seeing Rebecca earlier… she’s so down, Aaron. Couldn’t stop crying the whole time we were there.”

“Well she has just been dumped, that’s probably to be expected. Though if she had any sense, she’d know that Ross Barton is no great loss.”

“It’s not just that, though, is it? Her staying here for Seb means she’s stuck somewhere she doesn’t want to be. Surrounded by memories of everything she’s lost, all she’s been through… she just wants a fresh start, to be happy. How can I keep stopping her? I just feel like we’re pressuring her into staying.”

“Ross was pressuring her into going!” Aaron snapped, before taking a breath and reigning himself in. Robert could see how hard he was trying to keep calm, to listen and understand what Robert was saying, and Robert adored him for it.

“Look,” Aaron said eventually. “I get that Rebecca’s been through a lot, I do. I know this year has been hell on her. But that’s a big part of why Seb should stay here with us; she’s not strong enough to cope with him, not full-time. She’s never looked after him on her own; even before the accident she had Chrissie and Lawrence helping her out. And it’s not just about her happiness, is it? It’s about Seb’s, too. That’s the most important thing.”

Robert nodded. Of course it was.

“And being in a strange place, away from his home, that’s not what’s best for him. With no family except his brain-damaged mum, who was held prisoner and nearly murdered by her own psychotic nephew barely a couple of months ago. Plus Ross, who isn’t exactly the paternal type, who we know can be unstable, or even dangerous on a bad day. And then what, some nanny – another random stranger who he won’t know? Who we won’t even know? And that’s it, he’ll be alone. He’ll wonder where we are, why we’ve left him.”

Something in Robert’s heart clenched painfully. That was the last thing he wanted; he’d rather die than make Seb think that he’d abandoned him, that he didn’t love him with everything he had.

“I wouldn’t – we’d still get to see him all the time,” he said, even as his resolve began to crumble. “I’d make sure we got plenty of access.”

“That’s too risky, Robert. Everything would be on their terms, and they could change them like that.” Aaron snapped his fingers. “I wouldn’t put it past either of them. And whatever we get, it won’t be enough, you know it won’t. Rebecca’s already agreed to stay, why rock the boat?”

“She’s agreed to stay for now. But she could change her mind one day, she probably will. What if we’re just delaying the inevitable? We might still have to fight for Seb when he’s older – old enough to know what's going on. And if we do, if things get nasty and it goes to court… ”

“The court that might decide he should stay with us.”

“They won’t, Bex said as much.”

“What? When?”

“She – when she was still planning to go with Ross and we were talking about mediation, she said she was more likely to get primary care than we are.”

“Oh, and she knows that for sure, does she?”

Robert hesitated, suddenly wishing he could take back that nugget of information.

“Rob, what?”

“She said… with you having convictions… ”

He saw the exact moment the realisation hit Aaron and the colour drained from his face.

“Oh. Nice of her,” he mumbled, leaning back against the sofa with a crestfallen expression. And just like that, some of Robert's old dislike towards Rebecca, which he normally kept buried for Seb's sake, came rushing to the surface.

“God, she’s not wrong, though, they would drag my record into it. GBH, assault, they’d think he wasn’t even safe with me.”

“Which would be total rubbish,” Robert rushed to reassure his husband, wrapping an arm over his shoulder and squeezing tightly. “You’re the best dad Seb could have.”

“The courts wouldn’t see it that way, would they?” Aaron said, eyes welling with frustrated tears. He scrubbed a hand across his face before gazing at Robert earnestly. “But you don’t even know it’ll come to that, Robert. You can’t give up based on a load of ifs and buts, on something that might never happen.”

Robert nodded slowly, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “Yeah, I suppose… ”

“Is there something else?” Aaron asked, nudging him when he remained silent for a tad too long. “Oi, what’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“I just… ” Robert’s voice wobbled as he searched for the right words, tried to vocalise the darkest thoughts in his head. "I don’t want Seb to grow up thinking I kept him from her. My dad didn’t let me stay with my mum after they broke up, wouldn’t let me choose. He kept us apart and I hated him for it, what if – ”

“No, this isn’t like that.” Aaron set his mug down and grasped Robert’s hand tightly in his own. “Rob, you did everything in your power to find Rebecca when she was missing, all so that Seb didn’t have to grow up without his mum. For Christ’s sake, you nearly killed yourself over it – nearly gave me a heart attack in the process as well, you idiot.”

“Sorry. Again.”

“S’okay. Just don’t do it again or I’ll kill you myself,” Aaron warned with a tiny smile that Robert couldn’t help returning.

“Yes, boss.”

“But it just goes to show what you’d do for him. You talk about me, but you’re the one who’s an incredible dad, Rob, Seb’s so lucky to have you. And that’s why I know this is the best place for him, at home with you. With me. And the rest of his family.”

Robert didn’t reply, not really trusting himself to speak around the heavy lump in his throat. They sat in silence for a few moments, fingers stroking back and forth softly.

“So?” Aaron asked eventually. “We’re agreed, he’s staying?”

“Yeah. Yeah you’re right, he belongs here. M'sorry, I just… I’m trying not to be selfish about this.”

“It’s okay to be selfish about this. It’s okay to want to keep him here.”

“Then why do I feel so guilty?”

“Because you’re a good person. Despite what you’d have everyone believe,” Aaron smiled fondly and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I know you, Sugden.”

“Sugden-Dingle to you.”

Early the next morning, they were surprised by rapid knocking at the door.

“Who the hell’s come over at this time?” Aaron frowned as he fed Seb another mouthful of porridge.

Robert shrugged and went to open it, finding Rebecca stood in their doorway.

“What’re you doing here? Bit early for a visit, isn’t it?”

She shot him a nervous smile and entered the flat, fiddling with her handbag. “I’m – I’m here to say goodbye. I’m going to Liverpool. Today.”

Robert heard a sharp intake of breath behind him and spun around to look at Aaron, a hint of panic in both their eyes.

“You’ve changed your mind? Again?” Robert turned back to Rebecca, shaking his head rapidly. “Bex, you said you wouldn’t take him from us – ”

“I’m not!” she cried, holding her hands up in defence. “I said he was lucky to have both of you, and I meant it. He needs to stay, I get that. But I’ve slept on it and – and I’ve realised that I can’t. I need a fresh start, and Ross is my best shot at that.”

There was a long silence, only broken by the sound of Seb banging his little plastic spoon on the high chair.

“So you’re leaving? Now?”

“My car’s all packed up.”

“And Seb… ” Aaron stood and approached her tentatively. “Stays here?”

Rebecca nodded, even as her eyes swam with tears, mascara already starting to run.

“This is… the hard decision I’ve ever had to make, but I can’t take him away from his home, from everything he knows. It wouldn’t be fair on him. I’d want visitation rights, of course, weekends and holidays and – ”

“Yeah, of course,” Robert was quick to assure her, heart pounding. “If you’re sure this is what you want, then we can figure all that out, I promise.”

“Okay. Good. Can I have five minutes with him?”

Robert sat in the kitchen with Aaron as they watched Rebecca curl up with Seb on the sofa, holding him tightly and whispering words they couldn’t hear. Eventually, she stood and gave him one final kiss on the head before handing him back to Robert.

“You be a good boy, okay?” She smiled at Seb through her tears, squeezing his hand lightly. “Mummy loves you so much, I’ll have your room all ready for when you come to stay.”

“Good luck, Bex,” Robert said, bouncing Seb on his hip. “I hope Liverpool is – yeah.”

“Thank you,” she sighed, picking up her handbag. “Right, if I don’t go now, I never will. And Ross is expecting me. Goodbye, both of you.”

She gave them a watery smile, before taking her leave. Aaron closed the door behind her, before turning slowly and leaning against it, staring at Robert in shock.

“Well… ” Robert slumped down on arm of the sofa, Seb in his lap. “That’s that.”

“You know,” Aaron mused when he came into their room that night. “I think Mr Giraffe is about to steal Teddy’s top spot as favourite toy. Seb stopped crying as soon as I put it in the cot with him.”

“Poor Teddy, cast aside just like that,” Robert smiled and set his book down on the bedside table. “His lordship okay?”

“Yeah.” Aaron pulled back the covers and slid in next to him. “I think he just wanted some cuddles.”

“I can relate,” Robert said, reaching out and pulling him towards the middle of the bed.

Aaron snorted. “Wow, smooth.” But he wrapped his arms around Robert’s shoulders and tangled their legs together, so Robert counted it as a win.

“Speaking of giraffes, I was thinking we could maybe take Seb to the zoo for a birthday treat,” Aaron said a few minutes later, running a hand through the short hairs on the back of Robert's neck absently. “He was only little the last time we went, now he’ll be old enough to properly look at the animals. I reckon he’d love it.”

Robert stared up at him, felt his stomach do a small somersault as he came to a sudden realisation.

“Oi,” Aaron nudged him when he didn’t answer. “You listenin’?”

“Sorry, yeah. The zoo sounds great.”

Aaron disentangled them to prop himself on his elbow, looking down at Robert with raised eyebrows.

“Okay, what’s up?”

“What?"

“I can hear your mind whirring like a hamster wheel over there.”

“Just thinking.”

“Dangerous, that.”

“Cheeky.” Robert dug a hand into Aaron’s ribs, making him squirm with laughter.

“Stop, stop it!” He caught Robert’s hand and pinned it to the bed “Come on, what’re you thinking about, then?”

“Yesterday, when I was – when I had a wobble… ”

“Yeah?”

“Not just then, but when Rebecca was missing. And after the car crash, too. I’ve always been… so afraid of Seb not having his mum around because I know how much I needed mine. Sarah, I mean.”

There was something depressing about having to clarify which deceased mother he was referring to, but Robert didn’t dwell on that now.

“That’s part of the reason why yesterday I thought... maybe he’d be better off with her.”

He hesitated at the hint of sadness in Aaron's eyes, choosing his next words carefully.

“But the thing is… Sarah wasn’t my biological mum, was she? She wasn't there from the start, it was just me and dad until she came along. But that didn’t make her any less important to me, didn’t mean we loved each other any less. When I was little and kids at school would pick on me for not having a mum, I didn’t really care. Why would I? The way I saw it, if I still had a mum – my birth mum – then I wouldn’t have Sarah, and I wouldn’t have given her up for anything.”

Robert could tell by the look on Aaron’s face that he was taken aback by the words, and he didn’t blame him. It was the most he’d said about Sarah in a long time; he hardly ever talked about her like this, not even with Aaron.

But lying in their room at night with the door shut, nestled under the covers and the shadows, always made him feel safe, like he could say anything that was on his mind. And after what they’d been through over the last few days, he needed to say this, needed to make Aaron understand.

“She always said that she chose me, we chose each other, and that meant that what we had was special.”

His voice cracked on the last word and Aaron’s hand shot out to cup his jaw, thumb stroking back and forth over his cheekbone. But he pressed on, a small smile creeping across his face despite the pain that always came with thinking about his mum for too long.

“And today it really hit me, that’s… that’s what Seb has with you. You chose to be his dad when you didn’t have to, and I’m pretty sure he chose you the second you held him for the first time at the scrapyard. You’re his Sarah, and that’s the one thing I’d never want him to lose.”

Aaron’s thumb froze at that, cheeks bright red as he stared at Robert with wide eyes.

“Rob, I… ”

“Sorry, I know this is kind of heavy to dump on you, I just – ”

He was interrupted by Aaron pressing a bruising kiss to his lips, and he let himself get lost in it, arms coming up to loop around Aaron’s neck as he kissed back with everything had.

“You don’t half catch me off-guard sometimes, you know that?” Aaron whispered when he eventually pulled away, hands running up and down Robert’s sides.

“I like to keep you on your toes,” Robert croaked back.

Aaron huffed a laugh, and pecked Robert’s bottom lip once more.

“Of course I choose him,” he said, eyes shining in the low light. “Why d'you think I fought so hard to keep him here? I love the bones of him, of both of you.”

“I love you, too.”

“And I think we're gonna be a pretty damn good at this whole parenting thing.”

Robert grinned and pulled Aaron back down. “We're gonna be amazing.”

#robertweek2020 #prepare yourselves for the mush #robron #my writing

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