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thezanyarthropleura · 10 months

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AO3 still down? Alright then, here’s a compilation of my ‘Battra and Belvera destroy Mu’ storyline from the flashback sequences in Don’t Tell Me (How This Game Ends), with the next part (vs. Megalon and King Caesar) added from my draft of the next chapter. Warnings for typical kaiju violence and destruction. None of the monsters die for real, doubly so since this is meant as a prequel to the movies they all later appear in.

(btw, it’ll still probably be around another month before I’m done with the whole chapter)

7946 BCE

The sea churned with bile, tumultuous waves crashing in chaotic frenzy, dragging with them the corpses of hundreds of creatures of the deep. In skies so saturated with toxic mist the moon shone through it with the color of blood, winged shadows cackled with delight, swooping down to tear greedy chunks out of rotting whales and mosasaurs.

Rising with each breach of the surface, Battra’s bright yellow, knifelike crest fell to split the waves, over and over again. Tsunamis hundreds of meters high could not move the hardened, spiked armor of the larva, and the shadows knew well to steer clear of the dark moth in his steady advance.

One creature had not heeded the warning, or perhaps could not, its whiplike slither in the water easily felt even across the great distance. Battra’s glowing red compound eyes, passing above and below the surface with each contraction of his segmented body, scanned both fields of darkness for any sign of the approaching foe.

Beneath, it was. A writhing, teal-green serpent with a crown of long, narrowed horns. Two sets of small grasping legs spaced down its body. Ferocity in its bared fangs.

That one’s Manda. Don’t get caught in his coils or give him a chance to latch on. His scales can absorb and store energy. If you shoot, don’t miss!

Battra didn’t intend to. Without warning, he dropped well below the waves, directly into the path of the advancing serpent. A surge of yellow-orange lightning coursed up the spiked armor segments that made up the back of his head and coalesced up and down his horn, darkening to match the shades of the sky above. Drawing his head back and snapping it forward, he sent out a bolt of lightning that cast a sunset red glow through the murky deep.

Reacting just in time, Manda loosened the tight pattern of his swimming motion, becoming a widened coil that allowed the bolt to pass harmlessly through the middle. With alarm, Battra watched as smaller electrical offshoots were drawn out of the lightning and attracted into Manda’s body, his scales taking on the red glow until he appeared nearly to be made of hellish flame. With the attack passed, Manda tightened his coil again and switched to a violent, back-and-forth lashing.

Battra moved to duck, but Manda leveraged his snakelike body to a full stop in the water, letting his tail catch up and then spinning to crack it forward like a whip. Aimed to follow the larva’s attempted escape, the barbed tail-end struck hard against the side of Battra’s head, discharging the built-up energy on impact in a burst of light and rolling him upside-down in the water.

A squealed roar and a torrent of bubbles escaped Battra’s mandibles, and he urgently twisted his form until he could bombard Manda with another bolt of horn lightning and twin bolts of purple from his eyes. But Manda was at home in the water, even so toxified, darting about with enough speed and maneuverability to not only dodge multiple volleys of lightning, but make a tight curve around each bolt until his body surged with electrified purple and red.

Manda looped into a spiral somersault and brought the tip of his tail down on Battra’s head, just to the side of his crest. While the dark moth was still recovering, three more hits to the face and neck dispersed the rest of Manda’s absorbed energy, and bludgeoned Battra into a daze. Baring teeth, the serpent lunged and clamped onto the fleshy base of Battra’s left tusk, nostrils flaring in view of the eye above as the rest of Manda’s body looped several times around Battra and closed in tight.

Battra! What are you doing? Don’t let that oversized worm take you down!

Casting a sharp glare at nothing, Battra internally groaned. The serpent’s muscles constricted against his exoskeleton, inflicting enough strain the dark moth feared his armor might crack. But he could barely move, and even his own attempts to writhe against the pressure felt weak and weaker still with every moment that passed. For a moment, there was nearly peace, just the pressure and the calm of deeper waters as the entwined monsters slowly sank toward the bottom.

But shadows moved in the emptiness, the bloated corpses of fishes, mollusks, and marine mammals and reptiles alike. Not simply from the polluted seas, but now, so many that hadn’t survived the temperature shock and anoxia of the changed currents. Such hubris, such carelessness…

Battra’s eyes flared red like the moon, energy surging around them. Enraged, he thrashed back and forth, holding up the many spiked feet on either side of his body so they poked at the thinner scales on Manda’s underbelly. He lashed out with the forked trident of spines at the tip of his tail, scraping several times against the excess length of Manda’s until with one final lunge he managed to spear one of the longer spines between scales and deep into flesh.

Manda’s jaws slipped as he gasped a low, gurgling roar, and the grip he regained on Battra’s tusk wasn’t nearly as secure. Battra bashed at the loosening coils with his two largest, hooked feet, pushing one length of Manda’s body far enough away that he could use the point to scrape at it, indenting several scales at disturbed angles. Wrenching and twisting his tail spikes, he wedged the impaled spine deeper and deeper, until blood clouded the water and Manda was forced to let go, hastily putting distance between himself and the dark moth.

Second incoming! Above you!

Battra looked on high toward the water’s surface in time to watch the shape descend – a lizard with a spiky, fishlike face, gliding down through the water like a manta ray on stretches of skin that joined its forward and rear limbs. A single row of thin, sickle-curved spines ran down the middle of its back to the end of its tail.

It’s Varan! He’s as good in water as he is on land and in the air. Watch the spines when he curls up!

Parting the water with cupped, webbed hands, Varan leant forward into a somersault, lashing down with the spines on his tail and grazing Battra’s left flank as he dodged to the side. Battra repaid the reptile in kind, spinning in a tight circle and scraping a row of sharp foot spikes against Varan’s tough, scaly hide. He uncurled and flexed his tail segments quickly, pursuing his new, descending opponent with a barrage of lightning and a main pair of legs ready to strike downward.

Varan’s pseudo-carapace of tough back armor tanked the energy attacks, and as Battra’s hooks closed in, the reptile twirled to swim inverted and reached upward to catch the limbs in his webbed hands. The two monsters locked gazes for just a moment, before Varan leaned back, pulling Battra down and curling up into a fierce double-kick to the caterpillar’s underside.

Battra was sent sprawling, crashing through an unidentified mass that broke apart too easily to be made of rock or earth. A set of legs combed through the silt on the ocean floor, splaying apart with the protective curve of a segmented body to bring the dark moth’s uncontrolled slide to a gradual stop. In the process, Battra’s arrival had kicked up an obscuring cloud that included debris from artificial structures, as well as the unmistakable shapes of several bloated human corpses drifting idly within the disturbed sediment.

You’re already over the continent, or what used to be part of it. The rich and powerful moved inland and built their sea walls. They left everyone else to drown.

BATTRA CARES NOT FOR THE SUFFERING OF HUMANS.

Good for you. Varan’s closing in on your right side.

Turning, Battra saw the silhouette of the triphibian reptile, at a diagonal forward hunch on his hind feet as he strolled across the seafloor. In the clouded water, Varan was ghostlike, moving between submerged buildings as more flood-washed refuse drifted upwards with every step.

Battra lit up the water with a triple energy blast, but Varan was quick, pushing off the bottom and using his gliding wings to drift overhead of the attack. Varan stalled with his arms spread wide and brought his hind legs up for a powerful kick to Battra’s face, staggering the bulky larva.

On landing, Varan brought his right arm around for a horizontal sweep of his claws, scratching the armor on Battra’s face and narrowly missing his eye. With a shove forward from his many legs, Battra slid himself backward, dodging the next swipe and kicking up even more of a dust cloud. While Varan was following through, upper body momentarily twisted aside, Battra reared up on his hind segments, battering Varan in the shoulder with his largest right foreclaw and sending the reptile crashing down onto his side.

Through the mist, debris, and bodies, Battra sent lightning up his horn and struck at what he could see of Varan with bolt after bolt, making the reptile squirm as he tried to get up.

Watch it, Manda’s coming back!

The slithering serpent appeared out of nowhere, one moment a head with snapping jaws breaking through the clouds and the next, a long, scaled body crossing far too close in Battra’s field of vision, cast in warm reddish light by Battra’s attacks and indeed drawing their energy unto itself. Manda vanished into the clouds again as quickly as he’d appeared, but now there was a glow swimming through them, around them, split up by the silhouettes of the buildings the serpent passed behind.

Varan tried to get up again, but even with Battra’s onslaught halted, he appeared to convulse and stumble, reaching for and scratching at the side of his neck while his jaws broke loose with a strangled roar, air bubbling up past the widened whites of his eyes.

Battra could nearly feel pity for the creature, succumbing faster than his serpentine ally to the devastation his creators had wrought upon nature. But as Varan gulped down poison and recovered enough to swipe once again with deadly claws, he was simply an obstacle standing in the way of Earth’s dark salvation. Batting aside the attack with the flat of his horn, the dark moth lunged, impaling the weapon’s point in Varan’s shoulder and pushing forward through the reptile’s cries of pain. Eyes flashed and lighting traveled up the horn, dealing searing heat past the barrier of Varan’s thick skin – until the light in front of Battra suddenly paled in comparison to that behind him, and a powerful coiling strike of Manda’s tail exploded along his right flank.

Sent sailing through the murky depths, Battra collided with the waterlogged structure of another sunken building. Catching sight of Manda writhing about for another attack, Battra pushed off with his largest legs, gaining altitude and beginning to swim. Manda, however, handily dodged an attempted ram of the dark moth’s protruding horn, instead coiling around Battra and digging the claws of his forward limbs into the creases of Battra’s carapace.

Attempting to dislodge the serpent once again, Battra found Manda capable of learning from past mistakes, this time leaving more than enough distance between his coiling neck and Battra’s sharp spines as he clamped his jaws down at the base of a right tusk.

However, with a loose hold consisting only of the three anchors, there was no chance of crushing or constricting, leaving the serpent’s intentions a mystery – until a scrambling Varan pushed himself above the refuse. Manda lashed his tail out toward the triphibian reptile, and Varan’s front paws caught it just at the base of the flared end. Curling fully around the acquired handhold, Varan formed his row of back spines into a bladed circular saw.

Like a violent tug on a rope, Manda’s body contracted.

Bubbles escaped Battra’s parting jaws in a pained screech, yellow-green hemolymph clouding the water, as the bladed back of Varan, spinning on Manda’s twisting tail, made a quick slice through the dark moth’s carapace.

Lashing out in the other direction, Manda’s body was soon stretched to its limits and simply rebounded, bringing the saw back for another strike that left another bleeding cut between two legs farther down Battra’s left side. No matter how much Battra struggled, he could not escape the strange dance the three monsters found themselves in, Varan always being drawn back for yet another devastating impact.

You’re stronger than that, Battra! You’re cleverer than that! Show these worthless human pawns what you can do!

Battra stopped struggling.

He waited.

And when Varan was already sailing towards him once more, he roughly twisted his body from end to end, the bladed tips of his feet nearly mirroring a double helix. This time, the water was clouded with dark red instead of yellow, a different muffled screech resounding as Varan’s spines struck scales instead of chitinous armor.

Manda detached immediately, struggling for a moment even against the body still curled around his tail until Varan let go, drifting aimlessly in the water as the bloodied serpent made his panicked escape. Battra wasted no time before converging all three beams at the wound in the triphibian reptile’s shoulder, setting off a plume of dark smoke as a pained, twitching Varan scrambled away and drifted down to the sea floor.

Battra’s compound eyes swept across the settling clouds of sediment in the drowned city, wary for any sign of further hostility from his opponents.

Leave them, they’re not your enemies! Attack the human beings!

Battra could find little reluctance as he departed the scene, drifting closer back to the surface as he resumed his steady course. A sideways heave of his head above the waves left water trailing from his horn, a screech echoing in the night as he appeared at last to his hosts, a specter at world’s end.

Moonlit currents sparkled red, broken by the hulls of hundreds of submarines formed up in defense, behind them the forbidding seawall and its line of serpentine defense turrets. Behind them, the land, and only in the distance, framed by lightning and its own energetic chaos, was the black mountain. Both a monument to the humans’ mastery of the land, and the stepping stone to their dominance of the skies, the upwrought mound of dark stone rose higher than even the clouds, the twelve artificial spires at its peak continually charging with their horrid blood-crimson lightning. Even as Battra watched, another discharge was sent high into the atmosphere, detonating in a shockwave that passed overhead in all directions.

Far nearer though, in only the first of the visible foothills behind the seawall, the land exploded from a new, metallic peak rising from underneath. On the momentum of the spinning drill, another defender rose up through the dust on unfolding wings and landed on two-toed, insectoid feet. The bipedal beetle clacked his drill-half hands together in anticipation.

Nearby, a sheer cliff face supporting a temple atop it exploded out from the side, another gigantic humanoid figure marching eagerly forward to join the beetle. Reflected moonlight was caught in gemstone eyes, dust casually shaken from both fur and stone. The guardian shisa clenched his fists and flicked his doglike ears skyward, staring down the threat with perpetually-grimacing teeth.

Battra’s hellish eyes remained undaunted, matched by the fury of the tiny priestess who drifted close on her winged mount to hover beside him.

On a different day, he would note the small distinctions between the pain that dwelled in both their tortured hearts, the desperation fueling their unending rage, hope and love all violently torn out of broken frames held together now by chains of spite.

But for this one, horrid and beautiful moment, perhaps in all of time unending, there was not a single command of hers that was not a mere, redundant echo of his own thoughts.

Battra… DESTROY!

If she’d said the words aloud, they would have broken her voice. She’d waited so long, pleading with the Earth as she watched the Mu people tear each other apart, and now, finally, there was answer. There was justice. There was judgement.

Lightning from Battra’s horn and eyes washed over the submarine fleet, detonating the machines themselves along with the pill-shaped yellow canisters a few of them were attempting to mine the water with. With a writhe in the surf, Battra lunged forward in a caterpillar curl, scraping the closest subs apart with the tips of his feet and following up with another sweeping pass of his beams to ignite those farther afield.

The serpentine defense turrets, another concept borrowed from Nilai Kanai, cackled with green light as they unleashed their converging fire. Battra was suddenly struck by dozens of beams at once, warded back into a panic by their sheer numbers. Even his horn, surging with burning power, could only strike out at one turret at a time from above, too slow to weed out the progenitors of his pain as smoke rose from his face and neck.

Dive, Battra! Get back in the water!

The yellow horn fell like a guillotine, the surf parting and reconvening until it evened out. The water became strangely quiet for almost a full minute, and Belvera watched from above with building anticipation and worry.

Alright, now, where are you… she wondered as she drifted further inland on Garu-Garu, passing high over the seawall and sharing her tense confusion with the two bipedal defenders wandering the dark countryside.

Then, the earth began to shake, and Belvera smiled.

With a roar that echoed through the disturbed ground, Battra’s horn broke the surface, coming up through a grassy plain behind the seawall. A dust cloud gathered, turning Battra’s eyes into demonic lanterns as prism beams coalesced to fire.

Struck from behind in dancing chains of purple lightning, all turrets in range were blown to rocky bits. A few buildings caught in the crossfire were cataclysmically severed at the same level, the energy scorching them clean through-and-through.

Hooking his largest legs over the edge of his burrowed crater, Battra heaved himself up onto the terrain, just as heavy footfalls brought him to alert. With drill-half hands held low and pointed forward, Megalon was making a run in from the side, two-toed feet thundering on the earth.

The beetle’s Megalon. He can spit out napalm grenades and his horn can shoot lightning like yours, but he’s too dumb to use any of it effectively. Should be a breeze.

At the last moment of Megalon’s approach, Battra ducked aside from the half-drills and brought his tail-end up out of the hole in the ground, snapping it like a whip at shin-level and sending Megalon tripping forward over it. With a turn and a leap, Battra followed the ditch carved by the beetle’s slide, landing half on top of Megalon with leg tips clacking over the surface of black-and-yellow striped elytra. A large, hooked foreleg fell down on the back of Megalon’s head as he tried to rise, bashing his face back into the dirt.

Battra’s mandibles let out a taunting screech, even as his armor sparked with the impacts of green-blue weapons fire, incoming from the nearby slope where Muan rider pairs trudged downhill on their six-legged kilolon mounts. Battra let loose a triple volley of prism lightning and turned his head to let more bolts dance across the ground, incinerating the smaller beetles until there was nothing left but smoke rising from their burned-out husks.

Husks which shook and rattled and rolled down the slope as the footfalls of King Caesar sent the mountain itself trembling. The shisa was running at a slight angle along the hillside, likely trying to get at Battra from the left side where he’d just been firing his beams. Battra cast irritated, wrathful eyes on the new foe.

King Caesar. I don’t know why they call him that, he’s a giant shisa, it should be King Shisa. Either way, smash him. He moves pretty fast for having all that solid rock armor, and whatever you do, don’t—

Battra’s head spikes cackled with orange light, a pair of purple prism beams tearing through the hillside on a course for Caesar’s feet. Caesar kicked off into open air, crossing in front of Battra as the beams swept along to follow. It was a full cartwheel leap, and Caesar was upside-down with his head in place to absorb both beams into his right eye once they caught up to his position.

At that moment, Megalon put his drills together, and managed to catch the grooves well enough in the terrain below to pull himself out from underneath Battra and further underground. While Battra was still processing that, King Caesar landed on his feet, trampling a bit of forest to Battra’s right as he continued the momentum of his run. From his left eye, a condensed purple prism beam carved the ground on a diagonal path toward Battra and, on impact, threw the larva high and curling in the air to crash down a few dozen meters away.

Like I was SAYING, don’t shoot any beams at him, especially not his face! His eyes’ll just catch them and throw them back out ten times as strong!

Rolling back onto his many feet, Battra deeply grunted in annoyance, but had little time to seethe as King Caesar leapt and kneed him in the side of the face, bringing him down again. He swung his head crest upward on offense, but Caesar grabbed it around the middle, the sharpened edge doing little to harm the other monster’s bricklike skin. Caesar wrapped his left arm around the back of Battra’s carapace and lifted the larva up off the ground, pinned against his rocky side, while many sharp legs wavered for purchase. Caesar struggled with the muscular strength of Battra’s writhing for a few more moments before seemingly giving up, and instead turned and threw Battra with impressive distance, enough that Belvera had to turn around and fly into the vicinity of another mountainside to track his landing.

Belvera smiled as a squadron of aerial drones attempted a bombardment, only for Battra to direct a trio of beams skyward, setting the propelled explosives off like fireworks. She smiled wider as Battra continued to sweep the beams down and across the level of the terrain, reducing a nearby inhabited settlement to cinders. Only the heavy, enraged, pounding feet of King Caesar coming over the hill brought the larva rounding his head to glare once again at the lion-dog kaiju.

King Caesar took wide, diagonal steps in a zigzag approach, arms low and hands out to the sides while his head tilted with each footfall in a mocking intimidation display. Battra was having none of it, and scuttled with his many legs into a powerful forward leap, slamming into King Caesar’s center of mass and making him stumble. His largest legs hooked around Caesar’s upper arms, pinning them to his sides, and the several decently-long legs right above them splayed and wavered with Battra’s neck as it swung from to side to side, claw-tips drawing sparks as they scraped repeatedly against the sides of Caesar’s face.

Dirt and dust started to kick up nearby to the two struggling kaiju, followed by a drill-bit point poking up through the ground a few hundred meters away.

Watch it, Megalon’s coming up behind you!

The Beetle parted his hands just long enough to heave himself out of the broken earth, and then put the drill halves back together. He held the combined, spinning drill out in the air past his left shoulder as he ran forward, clearly intending to use it to batter the back of Battra’s head.

Battra curled the tip of his tail around one of King Caesar’s legs, pulling it out from underneath and causing them both to fall over just as Megalon tried to intercept. Underneath the passing drill, Battra swung out with his head crest edge-on, slicing into the gap between the hanging scales on Megalon’s left thigh and drawing a spurt of yellow lymph-fluid.

Megalon stumbled, stopped the drill on the edge to separate his hands, and used the left half to urgently pat at the bleeding injury. In what was probably a fortuitous accident, a bout of panicked skipping on his feet got him turned around enough to face Battra again, and he took an opportunistic shot at the larva with his lightning horn.

Battra leapt back in recoil, but King Caesar eagerly craned his neck to take the electric bolt in his right eye upside-down, then leaned upward to fire it right-side-up from his left. From the force of the bolt striking up along his exposed throat and face, Battra was sent flying completely off Caesar, and a yellow-green spray followed his severed right tusk as it spun end-over-end through the air.

King Caesar stumbled to his feet, with Megalon happily hopping up to stand beside him and posing with his nearer half-drill held diagonally in the air. Caesar ignored the gesture and charged forward, leaving behind a dejected Megalon slowly lowering his arm. Before Battra could react, the shisa had heaved him up off the ground in both arms, turned around, and beckoned a roar to Megalon.

Halfheartedly perking up in interest, it took a few more roars amid Battra’s struggles for Megalon to react, opening his mouthparts to dispense a propelled napalm grenade. The red-sand-encased projectile struck Battra along the flank, exploding in a swell of flame that adhered to and continued to burn on the surface of Battra’s exoskeletal plates.

Belvera leant over Garu-Garu’s saddle in alarm. Battra, get out of there!

Battra made a number of attempts to push or writhe himself free, but King Caesar held on implacably through several more napalm bomb hits. Finally, a muscular curl set them both off-balance enough for the next bomb to strike the shaggy mane tendrils draped across Caesar’s left shoulder, instantly setting alight the shisa’s fur.

In a panic, Caesar dropped Battra, and staggered on shaky feet as he tried to pat out the flames. Megalon paid no mind to his ally’s distress and adjusted to fire more bombs at Battra on the ground, setting the terrain ablaze as the burning larva undulated a steady path through them.

Battra was heading for the ocean, having set course toward a nearby slope leading down to the inside face of the seawall. Lightning from his eyes and horns struck at the smooth surface, creating cracks and small breaches that sprayed seawater over the nearby housing and maintenance structures. Hundreds of humans fled from the great larva’s approach, or from the accompanying, indiscriminate bombardment from their own beetle guardian.

But Battra’s movement was steadily slowing down, as more direct hits added to the bonfire on his carapace. Melting armor dripped from his burning neck and face, his green, red, and yellow coloration all faded together into an oozing, crusted brown, and finally, his legs froze in place, the ones attached to the terrain no longer pointed but fused to the surface like goop. The red light faded from his eyes, and what remained of Battra was merely a brown, burning husk in his former shape.

Belvera, however, grinned wide, still able to feel Battra’s life within.

Megalon had halted the bombardment, tilting his head curiously as he watched the flames fade to flickers upon his petrified opponent. King Caesar cautiously rounded from the lower part of the slope, having taken advantage of the leaks sprung in the seawall and returned to the fight with his fur merely singed to black on most of his left side. Numerous ground or low-hover vehicles, interspersed with creature mounts, approached Battra from all sides as the humans aboard them made an effort to surround and close off the area. With the fires burning out, the prolonged lull in combat, and the first visible shades of deep indigo-violet showing in the night sky with the setting of the red moon, it was one eerily quiet moment at the dawning of civilization’s end.

Then a crack resounded, the melted, dried form of Battra splitting open.

What had been the larva’s head crumbled and fell off, pieces of fused carapace crushing unwitting human bystanders. The back splitting apart jostled the small fires that lingered to either side of the fissure, most of them put out by the wind. A new carapace, composed of many backswept spikes of vibrant blood-red, rose out of the gap, followed by still-shriveled dark sheaths which were serrated on-edge with yellow spines – those being pushed aside by jagged, clawed, insectoid legs that quickly reached and established a secured grip on the broken shell below. A head with many horns, the largest of which were yellow-orange and lighted from within, rose to survey the world it had entered anew, the same red eyes casting the same dark judgement as Battra spread his wings.

He was beautiful.

Her vengeance was beautiful indeed.

None of the humans had reacted, taken any advantage to fire on the emerging creature. Even King Caesar and Megalon had been left to watch in awe, in the absence of any orders. The few minds Belvera spied upon showed her the reason, the delicious truth.

They hadn’t believed, at first. Battra’s larva was so different from Mothra’s, it had been reasonable that this was merely some mere giant creature that had chosen to attack. One that could be resisted the same as any other threat, and that signified nothing of consequence for anyone.

But now, they knew.

They knew, now, it was a god’s fury wrought upon them. A new guardian spawned from the Earth itself, the Battle Mothra. Thousands watched through eyes or screens as Battra dramatically lifted off, ascending directly vertical above the gathered onlookers as the undersides of his wings surged with building, crimson red lightning.

Some humans tried to run. Most didn’t bother.

It was an electrical storm with fury Belvera had never seen, the red-tinted brightness reflecting in her delighted eyes. The fleeing humans were split down the middle into wisps of drifting embers on impact, the vehicles exploding with flame and some of the lightning even reaching out to all sides and blasting buildings apart. Megalon was struck at least a dozen times across the front of his body, smoke billowing from each wound as he collapsed backward off his feet. King Caesar managed to catch one bolt in his eye, but enough of them struck his upper torso to send him toppling over as well, the intended counterattack veering off course and cutting a broader, red diagonal through the dark sky that merely served to illuminate Battra’s magnificence from above as well as below.

Belvera felt her body ease, relief in tearful eyes, and basked in the glow of devastation.

#battra #belvera #manda #varan #megalon #king caesar #kaiju #mu atragon #godzilla #rebirth of mothra #atragon

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thattiredgradstudent · 2 years

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I Just Want to Understand | Steve Harrington x OC

Synopsis: After many failed relationships, Michelle confesses things to Steve

Pairing: Steve Harrington x OC

Trigger Warnings: Drug use, implied cheating, implied/mentioned sexual content, hurt?/comfort, discussions of sexuality

Word Count: 668

AN: Confession, I haven't even watched beyond season 2 ep 1. I just read a lot of fanfics. Literally, I just 'met' Max and Billy, so this is just me winging it. So apologies in advance for anyone being out of character.

Honestly I, feel like any time I post something, I always have the disclaimer of I haven't posted anything in a while so don't judge me too harshly but again, it's been a few months, but writing has been helpful lately. And I don't really know what deserves a trigger warning and what doesn't? I'm trying here. This is one of those self-indulgent fics because I have been a mess with my sexuality and this slightly me processing it.

OH - and I didn't edit this beyond what google docs said was wrong.

“Okay wait, I think I know how to explain this better.” I grabbed the blunt from Eddie needing something to calm the pounding in my chest.

Steve was sitting in front of me, very confused and trying very hard not to freak out. Robin was next to me on the shore, and Eddie was laying a few feet away on a blanket. After having overheard me telling Robin how I didn’t want to have sex, things became a lot more complicated than I anticipated a lake trip with my friends being.

“So you know how you and Robin like boobs? And Eddie likes “ -both, i like both” Eddie cut me off and winked at either Robin or Steve, possibly both of them before I continued, “right, and Eddie likes boobs and dick. But you can acknowledge when a guy is just, conventionally attractive? Like Kurt Russel or Tom Cruise, but you don’t want to have sex with either of them.”

Steve slowly nodded and Robin gave me a small reassuring smile

“Okay, well. I don’t like either. Boobs or dick. But I want to date dick. No. Wait, that came out wrong. I want to be with you Steve…I just don’t want, well, more that I don’t care about having sex.” I had a hard time explaining it myself. But when everyone was talking about who was hot and who was hooking up with who, I just never got it. The few times I had hooked up with someone, it just didn’t feel right. I never felt the things my friends described, I just was stressed and confused as to how I was supposed to act.”

I was shaking and struggling to keep my voice steady. I hadn’t actually gone into detail about how I felt, but Steve and I had been dating for almost a year now and there was only so long I could go before I had to tell him, so mine as well do it when it is a slightly less awkward moment. I didn’t want to keep things a secret.

“So you don’t want to have sex, at all?” Steve clarified and I nodded, “but we…did you, did you not want to?” While I wasn’t around for it, Robin filled me in on Steve’s relationship with Nancy and how much he cared, probably loved, her, and how those feelings weren’t reciprocated, so this moment was sending him into a spiral.

“No no no, Steve it’s not like that. I don’t feel sexual attraction. I don’t look at someone and think about having sex with them. But, fuck why is this so hard, I still get turned on? I still can enjoy things. I just could also go without them?”

We all sat in silence for a few minutes before Eddie said he was to smoke and practically dragged Robin with him.

“You’ve never wanted to have sex with me?” Steve asked again, much quieter this time.

“No. I guess, no I haven’t.” I pulled my knees to my chest trying not to cry. I’d seen this film before and I didn’t like the ending. Whether it was immediately or a few days, each guy left, so it was only a matter of time.

You’re great, but I just don’t see this going anywhere

I just don’t see us working out, maybe if you put more effort into the relationship it would have been better

I mean come on, if you weren’t going to fuck me I was going to find someone who would

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Steve, I’m sorry, I should have. But we were taking things slow, and then who whole mess with Vecna, it just never was necessary. I get if you want to,”

“Don’t you dare say end things.” I couldn’t hide the shock on my face, “Don’t. Please don’t say that. Because I don’t want to end things, I just want to understand.” Steve continued, pushing himself off the blanket to kneel in front of me.

#steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #coming to terms with my sexuality #steve harrington stranger things #asexual #asexual oc

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merakiui · 3 years

Text

Half-Off Love

yandere!scaramouche x (gender neutral) reader art credit - kentasha1236 on twt cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, gold-digging, implied yandere!childe note - thank you so much for 600 followers! o(≧∇≦o) I’ll work hard!

It’s strange. There’s no other adjective to describe the situation you’ve found yourself in.

The ring slides itself onto your steady finger and it’s a miracle your discomfort doesn’t show. Your eyes struggle to meet his, but when they do you’re searching for a reason—for a meaning behind such a generous gift. You’ve witnessed this scene plenty of times before, having scoffed at the couples who decide to take their relationship to the next level. Whether it be in Mondstadt or Liyue, you’ve watched your fair share of angelic proposals. Although this is far from a proposal—at least, you hope it’s not a proposal. You’d feel powerless to decline if Scaramouche put you in such a position, and you’re almost certain he’s aware of this.

But the main thing—you now realize—that’s holding him back is your status and his relationship with you. It’s nothing special, just mere physical attraction rather than the emotional hindrances that come with real, heart-racing love. There’s nothing wholesome in the way you regard one another; it’s just sex.

“Do you like it? I made sure to find only the highest quality gemstone for you.”

And yet when he performs this caring charade, it doesn’t feel like loveless copulation.

Ew, you think, plastering a smile to your face. Since when was Scaramouche so concerned with materialistic signs of affection? He’s far from loving; he’s just pent-up, frustrated from his rigorous job as a Harbinger and so he decides to use you as a means of coping. He almost sounds like Childe with his ineffective flirting methods. You’ve received your fair share of spoils from him as well, and you’ve done everything you could to cull that relationship before it grew out of hand. But now you’re stuck with the lesser side of the coin: another troublesome Fatui Harbinger.

If you didn’t know any better, you might think to chase after Signora or Dottore next. Maybe you’ll aim for the Tsaritsa Herself if you’re especially daring. After all, your life has been nothing but deceit and faux pleasures; there’s little value to a liar’s life. If the Archons wish for your swift end, you’re positive it’ll be a result of your insatiable greed.

“It’s lovely. The color matches my eyes.”

It doesn’t, but you lie about it anyways. And he looks pleased to hear your approval.

“Then perhaps I should get you a bracelet as well? Or would you prefer something with a little more use, such as a pocket watch?”

Why don’t you just lock me up with a collar instead? you think bitterly, already keen on pawning the ring off once the initial luster fades. Since you’re so eager to buy these things for me in hopes that I’ll return. It’s annoying.

“This is more than enough. I don’t want you to spend a fortune on me.” There’s a sweet lilt in your voice as your hand cups his cheek, and he leans into your warm touch, starved of the affection like a stray mutt. ”I only need you per our agreement. You do remember what that is, right?”

He’d be caught dead bending to the desires of someone so insignificant, but he just can’t stay away. Not when your every word is intoxicating poison he’ll readily ingest.

“I’m aware." There’s a sigh in his tone as he pulls away, almost as if he wants to simply sit there and indulge in playful conversation. As if he actually wants to familiarize himself with the real you. But that emotion doesn’t last for long and an irritated expression crawls onto his handsome face as he silently recalls something.

You’re slipping your silks off with grace, curiously tracking his movements. “You look upset. Was it because of what I said?”

“Of course not. You could never upset me.”

Until you get bored of me.

When you cast your robes aside, reaching for Scaramouche’s elaborate outfit, you murmur, “Let me guess. It was that traveler again, wasn’t it? I’m not sure why you’re so hung up on them.” A whimper leaks into your voice and you fix him with a pout. “I’m sad you’d think of others when I’m right here. Aren’t I the only one you need?”

It’s ironic how quickly that line hooks him, dragging him up from the murkiest depths of love that has skewed into obsession. When you tried it out on Childe, he wasn’t so easily swayed. You find their differences to be invigorating. If the arrangement with Childe was still ongoing, you might’ve considered a threesome, if only to wring more glittering treasures out of the both of them. Mora and jewelry galore, it all goes towards your stockpiled savings. And it’s times like these when you’re lucky to have avoided economic business with the Fatui. Being free of Fatui debt has its perks, a bright miracle in your dark relationships. That’s one less tether to Scaramouche and one less reason to cling to him after you’ve had enough.

He smirks at your forced envy, easily pushing you backwards onto the plush mattress once he’s fully undressed. For a brief moment, he pictures your pliant body sprawled across an office desk while he pounds into you from behind, putting on a lewd show for his leering underlings. There’s something arousing about your secret relationship that has strange ideas formulating within his head. He entertains a simple scheme, one in which he’d shed light on your connection; however, the other side of him wants to keep your existence for himself, where no one will disturb the two of you in your pleasurable endeavors.

Perhaps you would truly belong to him if he were to expose you for the fraud you really are. Oh, the joy of trapping an unsuspecting rat in a corner, with no way out but into his open arms. You’ll hardly have any semblance of a choice, but he knows you’ll choose the option that guarantees another chance at life.

Scaramouche thinks about that as he revels in soft, tantalizing foreplay. He knows you aren’t as dedicated to this relationship as he is and he’s almost certain you’ve got others waiting for you in different parts of Teyvat. He’s just another plaything you’ve picked up for the fun of it. And in these moments where you surrender to his touch, your back arching with avaricious thoughts, you seem to forget about the power he truly wields. The thought that he could suffocate you in this very bed with his love alone should have you taking precautions to cover your vulnerability, but you only have your eyes set on one thing—not exactly minding the outcome so long as it’s monetarily favorable.

And if playing into your covetous hands ensures your weekly arrival, he’ll gladly empty his pockets of spare change.

You don’t like this new side of him. Lately he’s been treating this as if the two of you are lovers: slow, sensual thrusts accompanied with the sweetest of promises. You’ve never really minded the filth he’d moan in your ear and now you wish he’d resort to that instead. Loveless words spoken through the veil of lust—that’s what you want to hear.

He envelops you like a smothering fog, fitting himself snugly inside of your tight hole in an embrace that’s oh so familiar. You aren’t used to such gentle treatment and as he kisses along your collarbone you feel yourself going under, having fallen victim to a Harbinger who is normally so cold-hearted. Perhaps he’s more sensitive than you originally thought. Months ago, you wouldn’t have imagined your relationship would grow into something so uncertain, where emotionless love becomes packaged and bogged down with so much feeling.

His lips ghost over yours and there’s a slight pause in his actions. You turn your head to the side, denying his choking affection before it can drag you further into a spiraling abyss of regret. Annoyance swells in his hazy gaze, but he uses your new position to his advantage.

“It’s cute,” he says in a hushed voice, breath tickling your ear, “how you seem to rid yourself of my gifts as soon as they fall into your hands. I wonder where they’ve gone. Into the harbor? Traded off for food and shelter? Do tell me.”

When his grip on your hip tightens to a threatening degree, you resign yourself, opting to hold your tongue as his pace remains brutally slow. Rather than speaking out of line, you raise your hand to his face, and he clasps your wrist in a forceful hold.

The look in his eyes is far from loving—it’s that same obsessed expression Childe wore. And even if he still searches for you for reasons other than sex, you’re aware there’s no luck where Scaramouche is concerned. You can run from Childe because he’ll allow it—because he adores the chase—but Scaramouche hardly finds delight in a game of cat and mouse. You should’ve expected this. After all, he is just as conniving as the rest, always inventing new ways to track down and eradicate that peculiar traveler. Of course he would know about how you handle his presents when he isn’t looking because there’s no denying the stern gazes that would pierce through your backside whenever you went to the market.

"I’d never throw them out like that...” you mumble through another soft moan, hoping he’ll just pick up the pace and be done with you. “Your gifts are priceless.”

And yet the price for your own love is so hefty. If he weren’t Fatui, it might be enough to throw him into lifelong debt.

“Is that so? You seem to put a price on them whenever you visit the marketplace.” His fingers grip your chin, forcing you into an inescapable eye contact. “If you enjoy putting prices on items that you claim are priceless, you won’t mind if I collect a refund for your dishonesty.”

“A...refund?”

Your lustful thoughts evaporate once you realize his pace has become horribly slow, his dick stilling and creating an itch of barely noticeable ecstasy. You wiggle your hips to increase the friction, wanting to get yourself off before his words can sour the mood. Though it’s already spoiled when you recognize the carnal victory shining in his twisted smirk. Your unfortunate fate was sealed the moment you welcomed his company with foolish openness, and you’ve been indebted ever since he decided to spoil you with lavish foods and accessories.

For love that is far from cheap, interest must be paid and your very being makes for the perfect bargain.

It’s weird when he kisses you on your lips rather than on the parts of your body that are normally obscured with delicate cloth. And it’s even weirder when that metaphorical collar binds your throat in a vice. It’s more harrowing than any sort of debt you might’ve garnered and it’s just as inconvenient as his boyish adoration.

Scaramouche doesn’t have to purchase your flimsy, half-off love when it’s already prepackaged and ready for the taking.

“You heard me. A refund is hardly enough punishment for a lying brat, but it will have to suffice for now.”

For now.

Spurred on by his own insinuating threats, he seeks to bruise your very insides with thrusts that are filled with physical vexation rather than the emotional ministrations from before. And since you’re so accustomed to him, your greedy hole eagerly welcomes him.

#yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin impact lemon #scaramouche lemon #yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere genshin impact scaramouche #n/sfw #i'd like to write a part two #please enable me orz

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levi-my-beloved · 3 years

Note

Can I request a chubby!levi x reader (fluff)

Just The Way You Are

Summary: Levi comes home to find you in a negative spiral, and does what he can to make you feel better

Warnings: weight and body insecurities

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: Of course anon! hehe, i'm kind of excited this is my first request :> I was going to save writing these for after i've moved into my new accommodation but I got too excited hehehehe

I hope this is what you had in mind ^-^

You’d never been insecure about your physique if you were truly being honest with yourself. Sure, you’ve had a few nasty insults thrown your way, and school was always an interesting experience since young kids are renowned for their…

Brutality…

But as you grew older, you just kind of realised that’s how kids were, and most people are a lot more accepting as an adult. Emphasis on most.

Most of the time, you liked your curves. Most of the time you didn’t mind the stretch marks or the cellulite patterns on your thighs. But there were days when you’d look through a magazine at all the flawless, lithe models with their smooth, tanned skin and sharp, angular faces and a small bubble of insecurity would rise to the surface of your mind.

When it came to negative thoughts, you didn’t hesitate to tell your boyfriend. You knew Levi always kept an open, understanding mind, and he never once ridiculed you for anything, and would never dream about ridiculing you.

But there was something about this time that made you pause. It could be because he was stressed with work, or it could be because you’d let that little seed of self-doubt flourish and blossom into a dark, stormy flower. These were the same thoughts swirling around your head as you glared daggers at the statue-perfect weather woman on the screen of your TV. Did she have to wear that skin tight, short dress? Did she have to show off her lean thighs and long legs?

A sigh escaped your nose as you continued to slice through the vegetables you were preparing for tonight. You’d promised Levi you’d cook for him since he was so busy at the moment, and you’d wanted to make a warm soup for these winter months. Glancing at the small pile of carrots, peppers and now tomatoes, your growing insecurity provoked you to split the pile into two. You’d still cook for Levi, of course, but not for you.

Crossing to your fridge, you brought out an iceberg lettuce for you to chop later and make a salad for yourself. You shivered slightly as the cool air from within caressed your face and neck, briefly lamenting the loss of a hot meal to warm you up. But this was better, for both of you.

A pit of guilt ridden dread opened within your stomach as your already negative mindset continued to drag you into a downwards spiral. Did Levi not like your physique? Did he find it unattractive? Did he find you unattractive?

You tried to shake these rhetorical questions, laughing at yourself for having such stupid ideas in your head. Of course Levi found you attractive, otherwise he wouldn’t be with you… right?

But…

What if…

What if he was just with you out of pity…?

What if he’d realised he’d feel bad for leaving you for someone who didn’t have stretch marks on their body, and could wear a bikini with full confidence. Not that you couldn’t. Well, not in the past anyway. Right now? You felt if you saw yourself in skimpy clothing you’d burst into tears.

“I think those tomatoes are chopped enough,” you almost jumped out of your skin at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice behind you, dropping the knife onto the wooden board as you whirled around to face the slightly smirking visage of your raven haired man.

“Jesus fucking christ you scared the shit out of me,” you breathed, trying to calm your live-wire nerves. “I had a knife! What if I’d accidentally stabbed you!” Levi quirked a brow, unfolding his arms before crossing your kitchen and wrapping them around you, holding you against him. You cringed a tad, shifting out of your boyfriend’s arms before he could properly secure you. “I’m cooking, don’t distract me,” your lighthearted teasing was usually enough to throw most people of the scent of your increasingly crippling insecurity, but Levi knew your diversion trickery and simply decided not to comment, saving the little moment for later when he had the proper time to talk to you. Keeping one eye on you, he stepped up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“What're you making?” he queried, eyeing the small pile of vegetables soon to be whizzed in the blender. It didn’t seem like enough for two people if he was being honest.

“Soup. It’s soup season. You need something warm and filling so I decided to make a vegetable soup,” you tried to ignore the feeling of his hair tickling the side of your face, concentrating instead on putting the ingredients into the blender along with some salt, pepper and water. You’d add the chicken stock after, when it was in the pan.

“That doesn’t look like enough food…” Levi’s suspicious tone didn’t go unnoticed, and you gulped slightly. You tried to give yourself enough time to come up with an answer, but the longer you pondered, the more suspicious your irritatingly perceptive boyfriend became. Only emphasised by the second, smaller pile of vegetables and the iceberg lettuce still waiting for your blade.

“Eh, I wasn’t really in a soup mood,” you refused to elaborate unprompted, hoping to end this conversation as quickly and efficiently as you could.

“So what’re you having?”

“Gonna make myself a salad I think.”

“(Y/N), it’s winter.”

“Last I checked, we weren’t sleeping under the stars tonight. I don’t need food to keep me warm, just loo–” you managed to stop your self deprecating comment before you insult yourself, cutting yourself off mid word. “I had a big lunch anyway,” a lie. You’d had an orange for lunch, too busy with work to actually make yourself something, and not having the lunch break to run out and grab a sandwich. But honestly, after your violent storm of self doubt, you weren’t feeling very hungry.

You could feel Levi’s narrow stare bare a hole in the side of your head as he took his chin off your shoulder and stepped around you, leaning his hip against the counter.

“Mhm? A big lunch? Whatcha have?” fuck, this was a test now, wasn’t it? God fucking damnit, so much for being inconspicuous.

“Oh, just like a– uh... pasta.”

“You had a pasta?”

You were glad when the blender whirred to life, cutting the conversation short. Your eyes never left that liquifying broth, refusing to even look at the raven haired man to your left. Would it kill him not to pry for once? This all felt so unnecessary.

The silence was agonising when you released the button on the processor, almost exaggerating your movements so your limpet of a boyfriend would get the hint and leave you alone.

Unfortunately, this didn’t work in your favour.

“So… a pasta?”

“Oh my god what does it matter? Why is this suddenly so damn important?” you turned away from him, crouching down to pull a small pan out from the cabinets beneath the counter, flicking on the stovetop ring and watching it glow red. You didn’t even realise he’d moved until his hand covered yours around the saucepan handle, gently putting it to the side.

“Because you’re lying to me. And I want to know why,” there was no malintent in his voice. No anger or unease. He was concerned, to say the least. You’d been acting a little strange over the past three days, but it had been so much worse this evening. Levi was glad he managed to get home a little early today.

You took a breath, turning back to face him, hands flicking and fiddling nervously with the hem of your sweater.

“Okay, fine… jeez you’re so persistent.” you waited for any kind of signal that the tension had ebbed away, but there was no such movement from the man as he simply stood opposite you, waiting for you to continue.

Shit, when did it get so warm? You assumed it must be from the hob heating up, right?

“I uh… fuck. Look, I don’t really know how to like, put this into words? It’s kinda hard to articulate but uh… Jesus fucking Christ this is so stupid…” you ran a hand through your hair, taking yet another deep breath to calm your stuttering heart. “I– You’re not– Fuck, I mean like–”

“Are you breaking up with me?” well that certainly caught you off guard. You weren’t exactly expecting such a question, and especially not in such a flat tone. Your eyes flew wide, gaping at his almost bored expression, arms once again folded over his chest as if he didn’t even care.

But he did… right?

“No! God, no! No, that’s not… unless you– unless you want to break up…?” you didn’t think you’d ever sounded smaller than you did right now. Crossing your arms across your midsection, across your stomach, you looked away. And with your eyes on the ground, you missed a flash of worried confusion in Levi’s eyes.

“Why the hell would I want that?” his accusatory tone almost made you wince as you looked back to his regularly schooled expression, trying to see past the damn mask he always put up when something wasn’t going right.

“I just… I don’t want you to feel trapped with me. I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay with me out of some civil duty or something. I just…” you subconsciously glanced at the TV, the show having changed now from the news to some sort of dating programme. All the girls strutting around with their skinny, lean bodies and flawless smooth skin. Anyone else would have missed it. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed the specific programme glaring on the screen. The open magazine on the coffee table depicting celebrity diets and their progress shots. Anyone else would have missed the way you tried to hide your figure today with the baggy sweater and equally baggy sweatpants, the way you crossed your arms over your stomach eventually.

But to Levi, these were all puzzle pieces he put together to solve you. Everything clicked in his head, from the salad to the stupid lie about your lunch. However you clearly felt the need to continue. To elaborate, despite wanting the conversation to just be over.

“I know I’m not the most… physically attractive girl in the world. I’m not… you know, skinny or lean. I don’t have that thigh gap and you can’t exactly, like, show me off, you know? I just–” It was Levi who cut you off this time, gently lifting your chin with his hand to brush his lips against yours, silencing you.

“Do you really think skinny is the only physically attractive trait? Do you really think I’d be in a pity relationship with you because you think you’re not the most attractive girl ever to exist?” you swallowed, unable to really answer his murmured questions as he forced you to look back at him after you tried to glance away.

“But… don’t you want something… I don’t know, more? Better? You could have anyone you wanted Levi, look at you! So why the hell are you sticking with me?” a stray tear steadily trailed down your cheek, singularly managing to break his heart.

“That’s why I’ve got you. I do have who I want. It’s my fucking honour to show you off. I get the privilege to say to our friends and all the people we meet that you’re mine. What the hell could be better than that?” you let him guide you into his chest, nestling your face in the crook of his neck and allowing your tears to fall freely now without an audience. “I don’t say it enough, (Y/N), but you’re gorgeous. You’re so fucking gorgeous. There isn’t a single thing I would change about you, or your body. I’m so sorry I’ve let you think like this, but you are objectively stunning,” your breath hitched in your throat. You’ve never heard him speak with such conviction before and you honestly didn’t know how to respond.

Wrapping your arms around his torso, you softly nuzzled into his chest, a small smile pulling at your lips.

“Did you just objectify me?” you lightly teased through your now slightly stuffy state. A low chuckle reverberated through Levi’s chest, the vibrations from which you could feel in your soul.

“Yes, but I’m allowed to, because I love you. So fucking much,” there were no words you could think of that described just how warm you felt. And not the sweaty, uncomfortable warmth from earlier.

This was softer, cosier. Like a bowl of warm soup on a cold winter’s evening. A blanket of reassurance settled over your shoulders, and you couldn’t be more thankful for the man who’s embrace currently held you tight.

“I love you too. Thank you, Levi. I know it was stupid but… just been feeling insecure I guess,” you shrugged within his arms, Levi refusing to let you go.

“Don’t. It wasn’t stupid. No insecurity is stupid… idiot.” a soft giggle bubbled to the surface of your voice, shifting your head slightly so you could look at him properly through silver lined eyes. His hand came up to gently cup your face, brushing away the blotchy tear stains. “Let’s put the rest of those vegetables in the soup. But I’m not eating it if it tastes like shit.” Levi swore he lived to see your grin. His sole purpose in life was to make you smile. To make you laugh and feel loved.

“Oh shut up, you love my cooking,” you pouted through your wide, contented smile. An expression Levi mirrored as he stooped down to gently kiss you again.

“That I do.”

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

Show Them I’m Yours

A/N: Everyone knows there ain’t no party like a SAMCRO party. Imagine you’re Jax Teller’s girl and you want everyone to know, so he savagely takes you at one of those parties and puts on a hell of a show. (@itsme-autumn suggested that I write this and I was like um hell fucking yes)

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, sex with an audience (Jax owning your ass and showing off that fact in front of all the Sons – they all get to watch but ONLY JAX can touch), featuring gifs of pretty much everyone

Word Count: ~2.9k

“Excuse me, sir?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. Appalled at the audacity of what this stupidly attractive bastard just dared to suggest. “No, I did not fuck up my car on purpose.”

The Prince of Charming smirks at that, hands on his hips, tongue flicking out between his suckable pink lips. “You sure about that, princess? Third time in a week that you’ve come by to get it serviced...”

“Oh, so you’ve been keeping track?” you sass back at him, flattered as fuck that he has, though your pride demands hiding that fact. Of course you’ve been screwing around with your engine all week just to have an excuse to hit up Teller-Morrow and check out his ass, to be honest. But fuck him for calling you out on it. “You’re not even the one who fixes shit. My visits here are not your business, and I’m not your fucking princess.”

His leather-clad shoulders lift up in a shrug, like he couldn’t care less. “Suit yourself. Name’s Jax,” he says with another long drag of his cigarette. “Jax Teller. Knew a stuck-up little bitch like you would be too proud to ask.”

Fucking shit. He knows you well. And hearing him call you a bitch just got you wetter than you would like to admit; you hope to hell that he can’t tell. “Maybe this stuck-up bitch just isn’t fucking interested.”

You flip him off and drive away—your car is really functioning just fine, needless to say—but you’re inevitably back by sex-o’-clock the very next day.

It’s been barely a month since you first moved to Charming, and you’re still not really used to feeling so damn new. It’s honestly alarming, just how shamelessly the men around town gawk at you. Don’t even seem to realize that it’s rude. You’re well aware you’re super cute, but till you moved here, you had never felt so... coveted. So viewed.

Nowhere more so than right here at Teller-Morrow. Home of the infamous biker club known as SAMCRO. The way the crew here always ogles you like heaven’s gift to men is quite a big boost to your ego.

“Know what I think, darlin’?” Jax taunts, sauntering toward your car as you pull in. “I think you know exactly what you’re doing. Know that every man in Charming wants a piece of that sweet ass.”

“Well, Mr. Teller...” you step out of the driver’s seat, standing to face him, close enough to feel his heat. “This ass ain’t up for grabs.”

Jax takes that as a challenge: as an open invitation, as he should. Slowly moves closer, feeding all your deepest hungers—God, he smells so fucking good—then wraps one hand around your back, the other sliding toward your ass... to show you just how wrong you were. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

Jesus Christ—you want this man to fuck you up against your car, savage and hard, right fucking now... but he has something else in mind. Invites you to a party tonight, at the SAMCRO clubhouse. Who are you to deny?

He approaches his crew, as you drive away, fading from view. All the Sons stand in awe of their President—stunned that he just fucking conquered you.

“Dude, you gonna hit that?” Juice effuses, unable to hide his excitement. “Hot damn...”

Jax Fucking Teller stands tall like the king that he is and has always been, flashing his signature cocky grin. “Hell yeah I am.”

***************

You have no clue what you are about to walk into. Of course you were shameless enough to choose your most provocative outfit: a skimpy excuse for a dress that covers very little of you, paired with your favorite fuck-me-now shoes. Jax had offered to pick you up from where you live, the Prince Charming he is—but as much as you’d kill for a ride on his Harley, you wanted to ride on your own dime, show up at your own time, keep up the illusion that you’re in control of your shit. You’re all decked out and ready to go nice and early, but hold off on heading out yet—figure you should play hard to get, keep the guy waiting a bit.

Your self-restraint lasts for a solid two minutes.

There’s no hope of fighting how desperate you are for his dick. The thong that you’re wearing is made of some thin flimsy lace, so your pussy is leaking all over the place, and the seat of your car is all sticky and slick. That’s real fucking classy, Y/N, you think, quite ashamed of the nasty-ass slut you’re becoming.

By the time you arrive, every cell in your barely-dressed body feels so damn alive at the thought of Jax taking you home once the party is over and railing you all fucking night...

You don’t yet know it then, but waiting till the party is over is not what Jax Teller intends. No, you’re gonna get fucked good and hard long before it all ends.

Parking your car outside, you try and fail to steady your nerves with a long horny sigh as you shut off your engine. Preparing yourself for whatever is coming tonight. Finally stepping out, struggling to pull off a smooth sexy strut as you head toward the clubhouse. All right. Let the party begin.

From the second you walk in, you feel downright soaked in pure sin. All you can see are half-naked strangers slobbering all over each other, bodies pressed together, a blur of sweat-slick skin and old worn-out leather. The place stinks of sex, smoke and liquor, and you couldn’t possibly feel any sicker. Oh God, this is straight up disgusting—fuck this shit, you think, regretting having ever decided to come...

But before you can turn and head straight out the door, you lay eyes on the king, and remember exactly why you had accepted the invitation into his fucking kingdom. And all of a sudden your senses go numb and your slutty ass feels... right at home.

“There you are,” he greets you with a ravenous growl in his voice that resounds over all of the noise. “Now the party’s about to start. Glad that I got you to come, sweetheart.”

The gorgeous motherfucker’s lips curve up into a smirk, as he utters that sinful little word, and it has got to be the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever heard.

“Don’t get too cocky, Jax,” you tease him back, as his piercing blue eyes devour your entire figure, clearly pleased to see that you’re practically naked. “Still gonna have to work at that... I haven’t come just yet.”

He snickers, lustfully biting his lip as he reaches around you to grab at your ass through your dress, rendering you a dripping mess just at the touch of his fingers. “No, but already soaking wet, I bet.”

Oh God, yes... those are the only words that come into your head, a silent gasp for air, as his big strong frame slams you up against the nearest wall and holds you there, one hand upon your ass now as the other tangles roughly in your hair.

“Darlin’, you got any clue just how bad I’ve been wanting to fuck you?” he snarls, breathing heated against your skin, making your pussy clench and your toes curl. “You know, ever since this fine ass came to town... all those times you would come around... Christ, all I’ve wanted to do... is just pin you the fuck down... and show the whole fucking world who you belong to. Claim you as my dirty girl.”

Every word from his mouth has you spiraling down into some sort of sex-drunk submissive daze. Lost in a haze, everything else around you fades... until you realize, in a split second, that you and Jax are the focus of literally everybody’s gaze. Looking over his shoulder at the whole rest of the room, you are beyond surprised to find all fucking eyes on you and him. You feel the blood drain from your face. This seems like honestly too much to take—and yet you can’t deny, something about the spectacle of all of this has got you feeling... well, some kind of way...

“Yeah, they’re all watching, babe,” Jax devilishly taunts, reading your mind, lips on your neck and hands groping your tits and God that feels fucking divine. “Like the attention? Kinky little thing, I know it turns you on. What’d’ya say we fuck in front of them and give ‘em what they want?”

It’s not as if you have a choice, when Jax Teller is talking in that motherfucking mouthwatering voice. At this point you are nothing but his filthy fucking toy.

Now that your fate has been sealed as exactly that, he’s gonna give you the most epic sex you’ve ever fucking had.

Handling you like a damn rag doll, Jax swiftly shifts off of the wall, then throws you down over a pool table conveniently nearby, with your back pressed against the surface as he stands between your open thighs and effortlessly rips your dress to shreds. Strips off your thong next, tattered lace lost in a heap down on the floor between your legs. The look on his breathtakingly beautiful face with every move he makes is just pure fucking sex.

And just like that, here in a room packed full of people most of whom you’ve never met, you are stark fucking naked, legs spread, soaking wet and loving every goddamn minute since apparently you’re seriously fucked up in the head.

Staring straight up into his blazing bright blue eyes, as he so proudly claims you as his prize, you’ve never felt so damn alive. But also dead.

“Mmm, look at that...” he hums, teasing your wet cunt with a cruel flick of his thumb. “Who fucking owns this pretty pussy, hmm? This nice tight ass you got?”

Oh, God—how is it even possible for everything he says and does to be so fucking hot...? Though you can barely speak, needy and weak, you know this bastard has demanded that you answer. So you tell him what is so painfully true. “You do, Jax. All you.”

He growls in pleasure, and you couldn’t possibly get any wetter. You’re officially the property of Jackson Fucking Teller. And he wants to hear you say it, which is just about the hottest fucking thing ever. “Tell ‘em, whore. Tell the whole room who fucking owns you. Wanna hear you tell ‘em who.”

And so you do. The words fall freely from your open mouth. You say it loud and proud. “Jax Fucking Teller owns my ass.”

The room responds with raucous shouts and cheers, resounding in your ears. You barely even notice, though, because now Jax has started stripping off his clothes—everything’s happening so fast—and as you lay eyes on his downright godlike body you are not sure just how much longer your slipping grip on sanity can last. He hasn’t even taken out his cock yet, but the moment that he does... you’re pretty sure you won’t even be conscious anymore.

So you form words, while you still can, beholding this god of a man. “Want you to show ‘em, Jax. Please. Show off how you own me. Fuck me like just what I am, your dirty little whore. Show them I’m yours.”

Jax doesn’t need to be asked twice. Next thing you know his massive cock is finally free, the fucking perfect piece of meat standing so tall and proud and hard between his strong muscular thighs, and he wastes no damn time at all giving exactly what you need. He takes a firm hold of your knees to spread your legs out even wider to receive everything that he has to give... and then he drives his cock inside you in one swift soul-crushing thrust and Jesus Christ, as every fiber of your being dies, you realize that until this moment you had never truly lived.

You barely register anything else that’s happening around you, but on some level you do. It’s even hotter knowing just how much the whole crew is enjoying this amazing fucking view.

“God, that’s so fucking hot...” Juice mutters from his front row spot, stupidly hoping no one else will notice as he scrapes your tattered thong off of the floor and stuffs it quickly in his pocket.

Tig snickers loudly from where he’s standing nearby. “You little pervert. We all saw that.”

Juice points his finger at the guy. “Pervert? Seriously? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black...”

In the meantime, none of that got past the king. Jax doesn’t miss a thing, and he’s possessive of his property, beyond belief. He promptly shoots a sharp glare at the thong thief. “Think you can try and take what’s mine? I’m gonna be needing that back.”

The look on Juice’s face, at that... you cannot help but laugh, and have a little pity. Something about this whole dynamic with the audience around you has restored a little sanity and dignity, and you’re able to string words together, even while you’re still getting completely fucked to pieces by Jax Teller.

“Aw, let him have it, Jax. Poor guy’s just picking up scraps. You’re the one who still owns my whole ass.”

Chiming in with his distinctive accent, Chibs echoes your laugh with an approving clap. “Now would ya look at that. So generous! Jackie Boy, you got yourself there one hell of a lass.”

You smile at him with a playful wink as Jax keeps pushing deeper in, his cock seemingly harder with every thrust, bigger the farther it sinks. “Fuck yeah, he does. You jealous?”

“Aye, as if you have to ask...”

Jax doesn’t like it when you spend more than two seconds with your eyes on anybody else. Although he knows no one’s an actual threat, that fact still doesn’t change how possessive he gets. He takes his hands off of your legs now to powerfully grab your head, keeping your face in place just where he wants it, your gaze fixed on him alone as he keeps fucking you dead.

You can still hear the chorus of indistinct voices:

“Fuck her up!”

“Own that slut!”

“Pound that pussy, Pres!”

And so he does, making you moan and beg him for more, spouting out filth like a two-dollar whore, as his huge monster cock brings you closer and closer to climax. “Fuck yes—Jesus Christ, holy fucking shit—destroy me with that dick—God, you’re so big—fuck, Jax...!”

It feels like you’re about to burst. Happy, for one, seems to want that to happen. He’s more into the action than the words. “Just shut her up and fuck her harder. Till it hurts.”

You didn’t think that it would be humanly possible for Jax to fuck you any harder than he has been, in these past however many fucking minutes... but apparently it is. And the mind-blowing pain that it causes is pure fucking bliss. All of a sudden he picks up the pace, hips ramming into you so hard the table seems about to break, grunting and groaning out with every move he makes and leaning down to suck the screams out of your mouth, drilling deeper into every inch of your body and drowning you in his delicious taste as he devours your face.

Fuck if that’s not a one-way ticket straight to subspace.

Although your consciousness is all but gone, you try to stay afloat now as Jax pulls back from the kiss to ask one last question. “Who owns this fucking cunt?”

You couldn’t give less of a shit just how insane you sound right now. You’re honestly just proud that you can speak English somehow. “You own this cunt! You own my whole entire ass! You fucking own me, Jax! You... fucking... unghhhh...”

The whole entire room knows what’s about to happen. And as you come undone, some part of you can hear them jeering, cheering, every one of them so damn proud and supportive of their king...

But for the most part you can only hear and see and feel one thing: Jax Fucking Teller all around you, deep inside you, splitting you right fucking open, filling you up with his white hot cum until it feels as if your whole goddamn existence served the sole purpose of leading up to this one perfect moment, to this epically earth-shattering explosion...

There is no better feeling in the world than being owned by him. You know it now, and so does everybody in this room. Damn did he show them. Just as you had asked. Jax Fucking Teller went off and did that. Showed off ow utterly and undeniably he owns your whole entire fucking ass.

You end up spending just a few more lazy minutes making out, tongues halfway down each other’s throats. “Mmmm, glad that I got you to come, Y/N,” he gloats, again, smirking in smug satisfaction now that the task is finally done.

But the night is still young. So you tell him. “Well, Teller—you should know that your dirty girl has three fuckable holes... and you’ve only fucked one.”

***************

Thank you for reading!!! Writing this was TOO MUCH FUN. Hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear if you did! 🤗❤️

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sooibian · 3 years

Text

Trespassing is Prohibited!

Pairing: Baekhyun x Fem!Reader ft. Chanyeol

Genre: Fluff! Fluff! Fluff! Crack. Friends to Lovers AU, University AU (ish)

Description: Byun Baekhyun has had enough. He finally wants to ‘man up’ and make you his. But things continue to spiral out of control all thanks to his friend, philosopher, and guide (a.k.a. The Worst Wingman Ever) Park Chanyeol.

Warnings: A very rambly Baekhyun and a longwinding confession

Word Count: + 3k

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

“You want me to talk about the weather?” Baekhyun squeaked into the phone after having breathed in helium from the blown up balloon in his hand.

“The weather, politics...the economy even.” Heaving slightly, Chanyeol spoke after a moment, his usual gruff and masculine voice reduced to a wafer thin high pitched squeal, sending Baekhyun into a fit of helium suffused giggles.

Taking another drag off of the balloon, Baekhyun warbled and piped, “Say...say that again. Say economy again!”

“Eco...econo-” Chanyeol’s extreme outburst of laughter at the sound of his own voice, rendered him unable to pronounce the final syllable.

All along, you stood at the door, comfortably leaning against its frame and eavesdropping on their conversation or the blatant lack thereof. Chanyeol suddenly wanted Baekhyun to talk about the weather, politics, and the economy? You thought you’d grown immune to your best friends’ antics but they continued to up the ante and left you baffled, amused, or both every single time.

You cleared your throat to catch Baekhyun’s attention but it fell on deaf ears. He rolled around in bed, breathing in helium, laughing hysterically, chanting the words ‘economy, weather, and politics’.

“BAEKHYUN!” You screamed at last. He scrambled to face you, wearing an expression of a deer caught in the headlights. You finally had the entirety of Baekhyun’s eight second attention span all to yourself.

“YAH! YAH! YAH! What are you doing here?” Baekhyun retaliated and then whispered something into his phone, stuffed it inside his pocket, straightened his shirt and sat primly on the edge of the bed like a child who’d been caught eating forbidden candy. He threw you an accusatory glance but there was an unmistakable hint of embarrassment and panic in his eyes.

Peering over your glasses, you snapped at him, “I’ve come to pick up my phone charger because you obviously lacked the courtesy to return it!”

“Oh!” His lips protruded into a pout and he tilted his head to the side as if in deep thought, “I’ll bring it over in the evening.”

“Why are you acting so….dazed and confused?” Slouching, you took careful, deliberate steps towards the bed and sat down next to him. Leaning into his frame, you sniffed his neck and whispered, “Are you...Baekhyun don’t tell me you’re on something!”

Levelling his face with yours, he searched your eyes before flicking your forehead in response to your wild allegation. “Shut up! The audacity! You’re the one barging into my house in the middle of the day. Trespassing is prohibited!”

Confused, you pulled away from him and asked, “What are you saying?”

The corners of his lips drooped. Brows knit together, he replied, “You should’ve called first!”

His extremely out of character standoffishness made you uncomfortable. You were clearly not interrupting anything other than a helium infused gala which, truth be told, you were greatly annoyed at not being invited to. Neither were you inconveniencing him in any way. You were to simply fetch the electronic device and head home. And this wasn’t anything out of character for you either. You’d always felt free to walk into his goshiwon as you did your own. Yet, here he was, dark hair unkempt, dressed in his usual baggy clothes, accusing you - his best friend, his emergency contact, the one he moved cities with for University, the only one who had the passcode to his goshiwon - of breaking and entering. You knew Baekhyun since the day you’d learnt to walk and in all these years he’d made you feel a lot of emotions - happiness, sadness, mostly anger but not once had he made you feel unwelcome.

Your heart sank to your stomach at this abrupt coldness.

“Baekhyun, you took my charger, remember? My phone died.” Fighting the lump in your throat, you explained politely and proceeded to rummage his desk drawers for the said item.

“Wait!” He came trotting after you barefooted as you dashed out of his room. He grabbed your wrist to hold you firmly in place.

While you were no stranger to physical contact with Baekhyun, these past three months since your break up had started to get increasingly excruciating for you. A slight brush of his hand with yours sent tingles through your skin, made your cheeks flame, your legs turned to jelly, and alarms blared inside your head. At first you thought it was just your hormones messing with you - he was an attractive man and you’d only recently been deprived of love and attention but you’d slowly begun to realize it was something far beyond that. Something you had an inherent knowledge of but were not quite ready to confront yet.

“I’m leaving.” You replied matter-of-factly. Yanking your hand free from his grasp, you didn’t bother to look at him. “Helium makes you stupid!” You yelled instead, and banged the main door shut behind you.

After a week of radio silence (though he was still clearly avoiding you at campus) Byun Baekhyun had finally started texting you again and you realized that he was now a changed man.

He'd gotten...boring.

Every morning he'd send you a no effort good morning text along with, lo and behold, weather updates! Bland messages ending with the same emoji. Mostly alternating between 'Good morning! Don't forget to wear a mask today, the fine dust level is scary! ☺️' and 'Good morning! Don't forget to carry an umbrella today, it might rain! ☺️'

You'd almost always reply with a disinterested 👍 but he remained undeterred.

Now it was as if Baekhyun and Chanyeol came as a package. The duo seemed to be joined at the hip and they walked in the opposite direction every time they caught you approaching them. Movements frantic, whispering in each other’s ears as if they were plotting to start a rebellion to overthrow the Government. But the Morning Daily from Baekhyun remained unchanged. Until one day, you snapped and replied with an emoji depicting another special digit used to indicate an entirely different sentiment from the sweet old 👍.

Later that evening you were dressed up for a double date set up by your classmate Jiwoo, your only “friend” other than Baekhyun and Chanyeol. She was to introduce you to her boyfriend’s friend who she thought was your type. Not looking for anything more than just a stress free and light evening, you decided to dress to the nines, let your hair down, and forget all about Baekhyun’s pigheadedness.

Dabbing on just a hint of blush along your cheekbones, you gave yourself a quick once over in the mirror. It was then that a familiar beeping reached your ears and you rushed out of your bedroom to greet the unexpected visitor with a snarky comment.

“Trespassing is prohibited!” Crossing your arms over your chest, you glared at Baekhyun through your glasses. Dressed in a black hoodie, head covered in the Nike cap you’d gifted him for his birthday, twirling a pen between his fingers he just stood there, smiling sheepishly with a bag from your favourite desserts cafe in his other hand. It seemed like he’d come straight to yours after his lectures.

His gaze hesitantly roved over you and he questioned softly, “Going somewhere?”

Slinging a shoulder bag on, you averted your eyes and remarked, “It’s none of your business.”

“Yah! Don’t be like that”, he said with a soft chuckle yet his voice bore a hint of dejection and apology.

“That’s rich coming from you. Allow me to remind you how strange you and Chanyeol have been acting since the last two weeks!”

“I’m - I’m ready to..talk about it.” He quipped, awkwardly proceeding to put the box of desserts in the refrigerator. He then very comfortably took a seat at the kitchen table.

Hands on hips, you sauntered to the main door and shook your head, gesturing for him to leave. “Not today, Baek. I’m running late.”

He pulled back the chair next to his, and drummed his fingers on the table nervously. “Come sit. I won’t take too long. I promise.”

Letting out a deep sigh, you dragged your feet to the table and slumped into the chair.

“You look nice.” Lips stretched into a thin line, he stole a glance at you and said to his cuticles instead.

“BAEKHYUN!”

“Okay..okay sorry… so the day you came home?”

“Please stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Drawing out sentences in a question.”

Inhaling deeply, a slightly irate Baekhyun replied, “I’m trying okay.”

“Listen, first of all I am really annoyed at not being invited to that helium balloon call? So I’d advise you to think twice before saying anything stupid. Tell me...why did you two think it was a good idea -”

Embarrassed, he interrupted to get that part of the discussion out of the way. “Chanyeol and I just wanted to know what we sounded like… over the phone, you know? We sounded..err...squeakier.”

“Okay...I hate to say this but ...makes sense, I guess? Why wasn’t I invited?”

“Because - ”

You leaned in closer, questioning eyes locked with his.

“Because -”

“Baek, I’m running late!”

“It’s because we were talking about you!”

“No? You were talking about politics -”

“Politics, weather and -”

‘The economy’ The two of you said in unison, face averted from each other to keep from laughing at the recent memory of Chanyeol’s oddly peculiar way of saying it.

“Yes..so Chanyeol and I were discussing how you probably don’t see me as a man? Like … a man man?”

Face scrunched into an expression of pure confusion, your mouth fell open to answer Baekhyun but no words came out. His lower lip had begun to wobble slightly and he rubbed his palms on his thighs before continuing. “He was of the opinion -”

“You’re literally the only one to ever pay heed to Loey’s opinions!”

“Yah! Don’t shit talk my Loey!”

“Yah! He’s my Loey too! Moving on”, pinching the bridge of your nose, you urged him to continue with a curt nod.

Baekhyun straightened his spine, threw his shoulders back and explained, “We had a thought.”

“Both of you? The same one?”

“Ye-yes?”

“This is not going to end well. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Can you stop acting like you’re better than us? Just for a moment?”

“Fine! Go ahead.”

“We thought that it was about time you started to see me that way.”

“That way?”

“The way you used to look at your greasy vermin of an ex?”

“With sheer contempt and disgust?”

“That was after. I mean like before.” Hands balled into fists, Baekhyun looked at your expectantly.

“I don’t get it.”

He gave you an exaggerated smile as if to centre himself before throwing more vague questions your way. “What is the one thing - the only thing - I can actually cook?”

“Haejangguk?”

“Exactly! Do you get it now?”

“I have a thousand of reasons ...or ideas as to how you and Chanyeol would manage to relate Haejangguk with politics, weather, and the economy but I’d rather not dive into that cesspool. Instead I’ll allow you to explain.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows shot up in concern as he explained softly, “Haejangguk helps with your hangovers. It took me fourteen tries to master! And it was Loey who ate every single spoilt batch. Without any complaints!”

“I wouldn’t say you’re any good at it even now but...sure whatever.” Rolling your eyes, you murmured.

Your phone chimed with a text from Jiwoo but before you could answer, Baekhyun snatched it from your hands and shoved it in the pocket of his hoodie.

“Pay attention. This is more important than that loser you’re going to meet.”

“Baekhyun!”

“No, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t watch you go from one idiot to another.”

“I’ve literally only dated two guys! Why are you suddenly getting territorial?”

“I am not getting territorial! What I’m saying is… I spent these two weeks rehearsing the right thing to say to you but - screw that! And listen. You cannot do this anymore!”

“Do what?”

“You cannot waltz into my thoughts anytime you like! For instance I’m eating a tangerine, I think of how it would magically taste sweeter if I could only share it with you. Your face suddenly flashes before my eyes and I lose my mind while I’m doing the most mundane things like riding the subway or having a meal or talking to someone. I go grocery shopping and the first thing I pick up is strawberry milk and it’s not even my favourite! But I bought a whole damn carton because you love strawberry milk! I have cucumbers! Cucumbers! In my fridge because what if you crave oi muchim with your ramen some day and woe betide me if I DO NOT HAVE CUCUMBERS! I waste 4,050 Won every week on cucumbers but it DOES NOT MATTER because it would be nothing short of a tragedy if you want something and I can’t give it to you. Like, have you looked at yourself when you get upset? When your lips stretch into a thin line and your eyes ever so slightly lose their sparkle. It makes me want to pluck the bloody stars from the sky and lay them at your feet if it means that I can make you smile again. Do you know how warm you are? I mean, like, physically warm. Especially when you’ve woken up from a nap. So, so warm. I feel like wrapping you in my arms, putting your head on my chest and just...staying like that. Freezing the moment in time. Freezing the moment in time! Look at what you’ve done to me! I'm saying these cheesy things and I'm doing boring things like studying politics and understanding the state of affairs and keeping up with fine dust levels just so that you see me differently! So that I can somehow make you believe that you can rely on me. Think of me as more than just a friend who used to pull your pigtails back in the day.”

The beat of your heart boomed in your ears. You hugged your coat tighter around yourself as if to conceal its conspicuous sound. Your throat felt dry and your spine liquified in the face of his overwhelming confession. You had a million things to say to him. And there was one specific thing you were dying to do the moment your eyes landed on his soft, strawberry pink lips.

Eyebrow cocked, you said in a low whisper. “Why not buy a jar of oi muchim instead? It’ll surely last longer than a week.”

He buried his face in his hands and let out a shallow, pained wail and continued. “I'm done.” He looked up at you. Eyes droopy, lips pouty. “Put me out of my misery. Look, if you don't like me back the way I like you just ...forget that I said any of this. We can go back to being what we were at 7 o’clock. It's 7:30 now, we can rewind, 30 minutes. But don't...don't...what the hell how can you just sit there and act like you're watching a freaking movie. React! Say something! Actually...don't! Oh my god this is a trainwreck! I had rehearsed the right thing to say...but I got distracted by the indentations on the corners of your lips..I think I'm having a full blown breakdown… I just want to - ugh!"

"You just want to what, Baekhyunnie?"

You took his fists in your hands, eased them open and laced your fingers with his.

He clamped his eyes shut, slouched to make himself small, and muttered. "Don't call me that!"

Giggling softly, you repeated, "Baekhyunnie?"

Baekhyun flicked his eyes open. Unabashedly studying the curve of your lips, he whispered ‘Stop.’ His hand gently rested on your cheek, eyes seeking approval. You nodded in response, feeling your face flame. His honeyed gaze darkened as he leaned in closer, a sweet scent of bubblegum wafting in the space between you. His hand found the back of your neck, lips ever so slightly parted. Finding his movements excruciatingly slow you gravitated towards him while your breath hitched in your throat. He took your hand and placed it on his chest as his silken lips melted into yours. He held you like you were fragile, like he was experiencing the sensation of your skin on his for the very first time, committing every slight brush, every single touch to memory. You felt the wild hammering of his heart against your fingers despite the thickness of his cozy hoodie, your own reacting in likeliness.

Baekhyun held you by your shoulders and gently pulled away, breaking the most delectable first kiss you’d ever had. Tilting his head to the side he looked at you briefly before making vague hand gestures and shaking his head. He opened his mouth to say something but found himself at a loss for words. Face flushed, he opened his mouth again after a while only to clamp it shut.

Byun Baekhyun was processing.

After having had your fun with his perplexity, you smiled at him and raised an eyebrow questioningly, prodding him to speak.

“So...does this mean we’re?” He asked, voice faintly tremulous.

Pursing your lips to stifle a giggle you teased, “Yeah?”

“Am I your...I mean...are you my….girl-girlfriend?” Averting his eyes from yours, he inquired, while shyly rubbing the back of his neck.

Half shrugging, you answered, “Depends.”

Baekhyun’s face fell. “Depends?!” He exclaimed, almost in falsetto.

"Depends on whether you want to continue sending me daily weather updates.” You deadpanned.

“This feels like a trick question.”

“Yes or no?”

“N-no?”

“Then, yes. Byun Baekhyun, congratulations, you’ve earned the unequivocal and irrevocable right to call me your girlfriend.”

“Does it mean that you didn’t like the new and improved version of me?” He asked hesitantly, face clouded over with caution.

“That wasn’t the Baekhyunnie I fell for.”

“Yah!” Surprised at your sudden blurry confession, his eyes grew into large brown circles but the moment his gaze met with yours, his expression softened again. He smiled sheepishly and spoke tenderly, “Okay...noted. You too can call me your”, he cleared his throat, took your hand in his, placed a soft kiss on it and used his most dulcet voice to say, “boyfriend.”

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

A/N: hello, hello @you-did-well-moon hope you enjoyed this very cheesy confession from Baekhyun!

@exolssecretsanta

#exolssecretsanta20 #exosnet #exowritersnet #bbh-net #exo fanfic #baekhyun fanfic #exo fluff #baekhyun fluff #exo oneshot #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun #baekhyun oneshots #baekhyun x you #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun romance #exo romance #baekhyun imagines #exo imagines #baekhyun fanfiction

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help-im-a-gay-fish · 3 years

Note

Okay I had to do some stuff, but here I am rambling about relationship between Killer and Nightmare in Colours of LOVE.

Some of this I might mention before some of it might be your and Jann or Yuri ideas... Anyway!! The way I see that:

Even though this is soulmate au Nightmare and Killer aren't perfect fit for eachother. They are perfect fit in threesome - Ccino softens rough edges of both of them, and changes their attention from being mad on eachother to carrying about Ccino together (especially at first when he is really depressed). But before that... It was hard.

Killer is really open about everything he thinks and feels. If he founds someone who is attractive he will flirt. Even when he is already dating Nightmare. And also he always shows his affection to Nightmare everywhere, in public too. That's cute and sweet, but Nightmare is really closed person so that makes him really uncomfortable. Night often got jealous with Killer flirting with anyone else, got embarrassed with his kisses and all on public, and in general is a bit annoyed with Killer's actions. Killer on the other hand doesn't really understand why Nightmare is so "tensed" (he is not, Night is just much more calm, but Killer don't get it).

They were braking up and coming back again a few times, because they had argued a lot about everything and got tired of this. Right now they are on their "best days" - they started to date again a few weeks ago and right now they are through some stuff, they understand eachother better, and pretty chill about eachother weird actions. Like in the second page Night is a bit flustered by Killer's kiss but he almost used to that. Same as he is worried about being late, since Killer is almost always late, but he is more or less fine by that. On next page (which you haven't seen yet), there are an interesting dialog between them, and I will definitely write some of "subtext" about it when I will post it.

Actually if they haven't met Ccino they would break up again after a few months. And maybe come back again after a week.

Also! Interesting thing about third soulmate: at the beginning of the comic (before Nigh met Ccino) Killer is 100% sure that they have third soulmate, but Nightmare is sure for about 60%. Killer is existed about that, he knew knew that he is polyamorious for a long time, but Nightmare hesitates a lot, because he can't really imagine himself in polyam relationship. It feels weird and also he is soooooo jealous about Killer paying any attention to anyone except him, that he worries to become "third wheel". Will it be different with Ccino?? Who knows (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Hi kotikaleo!!! This was super fun to read.

Firstly I'm going to tag @zu-is-here since she started the studio verse

It's definitely an interesting insight to your comic and the characters!

It reminds me a lot of an early version of my own ideas about the studio verse nightkiller relationship! And I can definitely see the way we have bounced headcannons of each other paying off.

Them still dealing with a softer kind of lovehate dynamic is an interesting one. It doesn't seem to be as extreme as my version, but it's interesting that it's still there.

The fact that they are meant to work as a 3 makes sense as well. If they are supposed to be bounded as a 3 it makes sense that three they their relationship would be unstable. They don't work as a two, but they are soul mates and something would always pull the two of them together.

I'm also curious, since Nightmare isn't 100% sure that the lack of colour is due to them being soul mated to another person. I wonder if he ever felt like the universe got it wrong? And that he'd been mated to the wrong person? Or perhaps he felt it meant that him and Killer don't have soul mates and that's why they have some connections.

It sad boy.

Also if Killer knows he's poly by nature, is that something that causes disagreements with the 2 of them?

And now for mine and @jann-the-bean version.

This story has been something that we mostly developed in tumbler DMs but both me and Jan wrote a story about it. Jan wrote

KillerNight(s)

And I'm writing

Round and round till we all fall down

Nightmare and Killer's relationship started off baddddd, it basically started as a mutual dislike for one another. This is due to their conflicting personalities and morals.

Nightmare was originally quite excited to meet Killer, as he'd heard a lot about the actor. But almost straight away he found Killer to be rude, childish and irritating. Killer found Nightmare to be stuck up, snobbish and entitled.

The two first met at an awards ceremony and got into a yelling match after a few drinks and were separated. From there their dislike for one another was made quite well known to the public because of a social media battle back and forth.

This only went on for a few months however, as the characters of 'Killer' and 'Nightmare' were cast to play together.

Nightmare and Killer agreed to be civil in order to function while working and get the filming completed as soon as possible.

As they worked together, their dislike turned into a playful banter and respect for one another. And then something else shifted.

Now Killer has a reputation for being a player and one who likes to sleep around, as you said, he's open about his interest in people when he has it and enjoys casually flirting with just about anyone.

Which came to include Nightmare.

Nightmare paid no mind to it really, though he couldn't understand why it embarrassed him so much.

Killer comes to find Nightmare to be very attractive and enjoys his reactions when teased, he rights him off though because he was under the impression that Nightmare was straight, and he'd never try to change that.

It was a day when they were talking about Killer's eyes and how it's caused him to struggle, that Nightmare tells him that he thinks his eyes are very pretty and that they are an attractive quality, and something in Killer breaks and he kisses him.

So Killer feels like he messed up and the two avoid each other. But it causes Nightmare to start questioning things about himself.

Nightmare at this point had only every dated women. He assumed that he was straight. But after that kiss a lot of buried feelings are dragged to the surface and exposed, and he realises that he's also attracted to men.

So Jan goes into full details about this, in the fic Killernights, but basically Nightmare confronts Killer about the kiss and Killer tells him he 'has a thing for him'

The two go back to Killer's flat to talk, but their normal banter, leads to flirting and then another kiss. And Nightmare who is curious and suddenly craving new sensations becomes lost to him. Killer who finds Nightmare physically very attractive, also gets wrapped up and the two of them sleep together.

Nowwww this is getting long so I'll try to shorten it down a bit.

Basically, it's an amazing night. It's passionate, enjoyable and a lot of fun for both of them. Upon finding out Night has never been with a man, Killer guides him carefully though the process.

After that night the two can't stop thinking about each other, even though they both planned for it to be a one time thing. Again, they avoided each other until talking after a while.

And killer admits his desires for the other, and offers Nightmare a safe environment to experiment with his sexuality, where he won't be judged.

To cut a long story short, this spirals into a passionate and carnal, on and off booty call/fling with each other that spans for years.

Other that time they grow very close with each other, and come to recognise the similarities that they share, and have soft moments of just enjoying being together with one another.

For Killer, Nightmare is the first person to ever tell him he had beautiful eyes and mean it. The first person who wasn't at all put off by them.

To Nightmare, it feels like Killer is the one person that will never pick Dream over him. And he makes him feel wanted and desirable in a way few have before.

However, their are still parts of their relationship that conflict. Of course a healthy relationship will always have some conflicts. But for Killer and Nightmare the conflicts clash and fight with each other.

That along with both of their past traumas, (I wrote about Killer's back story here) means they find it difficult to talk about genuine feelings and what's bothering them. Causing things to bottle up and blow up over time.

They also find it impossible to admit that they actually love each other deeply.

They tried to be in a full on committed relationship once, (which I'm writing about in Round and Round) but it didn't work out for these issues. As well as the fact that Killer is poly by nature, and therefore gets anxious and uncomfortable in a relationship with one person only. Which he won't talk to Night about for the reasons stated above.

Enter Ccino.

Now Ccino is the missing piece for Nightmare and Killer.

He's soft and gentle spoken, which easily helps them calm down when things get heated between them. He also provides a safe and loving space to open up about what things are bothering them.

Nightmare and Killer's also, as you said, spend more energy caring for and sometimes worrying about Ccino, so they have less energy for the constant fighting.

Ccino was the missing piece. He's the person who will cuddle and read books with nightmare, but also the one who's super into affection, which Killer loveesss.

A relationship would never work between just killer and Ccino, since Ccino wouldn't be able to keep up with Killer's libido and killer doesn't know much about Ccino's mental health. And Ccino wouldn't work in a relationship with just Nightmare because Night's colder and more straight forward personality would leave him affection staved after a while.

They just work together! They are basically soul mates in this universe as well!

P. S Nightmare in this universe was also very veryyyyy jealous when Killer showed interest in Ccino. Which is something he took out on Ccino till Killer stopped it. After falling in love with Marshmallow he regrets this a lot.

I'M SO EXCITED FOR MORE. COLOURS OF LOVEEEEE

#undertale au #shipping #undertale multiverse #sansest #fluffynightkiller #fluffynight #Nightkiller #studio verse #studioverse #studio au #studio versions #studio #Fluffynightkiller #ccillermare #Colours of love #headcannons #Headcannon

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xtodorcki · 3 years

Text

“Opposites,” Villain Bakugou x Reader

Summary: You being a pro getting involved with a villain

Warnings: implied smut

Adult Villain Baku! x Fem!Reader

It had been a long day, the mission just now being finished and dealt with after weeks of handling it. You were beyond stressed out and tired. As your feet hit the pavement, going up to your empty apartment, you just wanted sleep.

Bakugou on the other hand had different plans for you. The last few months he had been watching you closely, the most popular pro, all spread over the media. You intrigued him since the first big mission you did which led to a lot of media attention and camera time and you hated every second of it.

You two knew each other, you two actually went to the same school to both become pros but on the last year of high school- he spiraled after getting caught up with some villains and the drag of Midoriya getting more attention and getting All Mights quirk- it sent him over the edge.

You two were never technically friends, you two bickered and hung out but it was never anything friendship related- he was an asshole and you were the little sweetheart in the class.

But Bakugou remembered you, every little thing about you from high school and he just wanted a little taste since you were a pro hero and all.

He wanted to see how good of a pro you really were. He even thought about killing you, it would be fun and exciting to see the media cover that but he also had other plans spiraling around in his head.

He waited inside of your apartment, it wasn’t hard to break into it since you left the balcony door unlocked assuming no one can reach the top floor but here he was, on your couch.

As you jiggled the keys, turning the lock and stepping inside- you turned on the lights and dropped your bag on the floor. You didn’t even realize he had been sitting there while you kicked your shoes off by the door.

“You know, leaving the balcony door unlocked is very dangerous.” He spoke, his voice low and it startled you, almost jumping out of your own skin.

Your eyes shot over to where he sat, pointing your hand at him in a way to threaten him with your quirk. He chuckled, raising his eyebrows in amusement at your defensive state and stayed comfortable on your couch.

“No need to use your quirk, even though it’ll be no use of mine.” He smirked, your eyes adjusting to the dark area where he sat and realized it was Bakugou.

“Katsuki? You have a lot of fucking nerve showing your face.”

He shrugged at your words, looking around at your barely lit up apartment and finally he stood on his feet, making his way over to you as you kept your hand raised towards him.

His red eyes looking into yours, the tattoos on his arms noticeable and you gulped the lump down in your throat at how tall he had gotten since high school but you kept your composure- you couldn’t allow him to see you freaking out.

“Let’s play catch up.” His smile evil, full of hate and sarcasm as he reached down to grab a hold of your chin.

You slapped his hand away, hearing him click his tongue against the roof of his mouth and gave you a look of disappointment but deep down he was loving this way too much.

He couldn’t believe how much power you’ve gotten since UA. He couldn’t believe how much you’ve grown but he didn’t really bother to care too much. He didn’t care about anything and he could care less about you or what happens to you.

Now if he was still a teenager, he would think differently. He did think you were beautiful and definitely out of his league. You two were polar opposites, you were known as the high school sweetheart, you had a lot of friends and you were always kind to everyone you meet.

He was the asshole who had no friends and hated everyone around him. He was selfish, couldn’t care about anything except his power and his will to become a number one pro. There was never a chance in hell he would be able to capture a gem like you but now? Now he could just take you. He can sweep you off your feet and take you away by force.

He laughed at the thought of it, your eyes staring into his with disgust and hatred. You started to hate him once he went off the deep end but before you cared about him a little too much. The memories of years ago flooding inside of your head.

( incoming flashback )

You had heard about Bakugou ditching school and failing the class after finding out about Midoriya’s true quirk. You also heard rumors about the fact he was committing small petty crimes in the town.

You two weren’t all that close but it made you become worried enough that your feet made their way to his dorm and knocked on it repeatedly.

“Katsuki?” You said loud enough for him to hear, sighing as you continued to knock until the door was ripped open, startling you.

“What the fuck do you want? You don’t need to knock repeatedly.” He said angrily, his dark red eyes staring into yours and it was like you were staring at a different person.

“I- I... I was worried about you.” You stuttered out, watching the pure hatred on his face as he stared at you- feeling nothing but anger.

“Then stop worrying about me? I couldn’t care less about what the fuck goes on with you, Y/N.” He slammed the door in your face, leaving you stunned and sad all at the same time.

Days after that he started to get worse before your very eyes, releasing his anger and hatred on everyone around him and suddenly you had enough and went up to his dorm again to pound on the door with your fist.

This time you didn’t wait for him to open the door, instead you opened it yourself and saw him laying on the bed on his phone. You reached over, snatching the phone from his hands and slid it in your pocket.

“Can you please tell me what’s going on with you, Katsuki? Let me help.” You practically pleaded with him and his whole mood had changed, a completely different personality coming out of him.

“I know a lot of ways you can help me.” He smirked up at you, standing up and his height towered over yours- his evil grin making chills run down your spine.

“Not like that, Bakugou... you know what I mean.. something is wrong and I can tell.”

“Hm, why not princess? You said you wanted to help me so why not help suck me off? I bet you’ll look so pretty on your knees with those lips wrapped around my dick.” His voice was low, his hand grabbing a hold of your chin and his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

Now if this was the old Bakugou, you would’ve felt a lot of different emotions. You probably would have intense feelings for him but looking at him, you didn’t see Bakugou, you saw someone else.

You moved your small hands up to his chest and shoved him away from you, catching him by surprise but it amused him- he was having fun toying with you.

“Fuck you.” You threw his phone at him, walking towards his door and he laughed louder.

“Yeah, fuck me good, babe.” He said sarcastically, watching you leave his room.

After that he simple vanished from UA and suddenly was on the news for being a villain and being apart of the league of villains, helping their plans and it had broken your heart.

What if you pushed him more? What if you insisted on helping him? Would he still be here? You blamed yourself for a while but soon, you had forgotten about him altogether.

( end of flashback )

Now you stood in front of him, feeling all of those emotions and memories coming back to you. The amount of guilt you carried, the amount of sadness you had- it all came rushing back as you stared at his face.

“Katsuki.. why didn’t you let me help you?” You sighed, looking over at his state, the black clothing, the tattoos, the piercings- this wasn’t him.

You had to admit he looked well put together and attractive but he was still a villain and he was still a horrible person but deep down he was just like a lost injured puppy.

“I didn’t need any of your fucking help.” His hand had slammed against the wall beside your head, his quirk bursting a hole in the wall and it made you jump.

He smiled at you again, his other hand grabbing a hold of your throat and forcing you to make eye contact with him as his face stayed inches away from yours.

“C’monn, let’s have some fun for old times..” He chuckled, his eyes checking you out up and down and you cringed at the sight and he noticed.

“Don’t be like that, baby. You know how badly I wanted you at UA? Could’ve been something good, something right but of course.. Deku this... Deku that. Fuck Deku! He’s first on my hit list.” He laughed, his fingers tracing over your soft skin, thinking about activating his quirk while his hand was around your throat.

You had no idea why he was ranting about Midoriya, you honestly haven’t spoken or seen him since UA so him being brought up was really for no reason, only because Bakugou still held onto that hatred for him.

You slowly slid your hand up, trying to be sneaky with your quirk but he could see right through you. His hand snatched up your wrist, holding it tight and he smiled at you again.

“Don’t make me explode your hand into pieces, it’ll cause a mess.” He fake pouted, letting go of your wrist and throat as he stood up straight and stepped back from you.

“What do you want then? Some sick revenge?”

“Just want to have some fun with you.” He shrugged, ruffling his fingers through his hair and turned his back towards you.

“I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“Short terms, I’m taking you with me.”

“What?” You stared at him in disbelief, you couldn’t understand his plans or the reason why he came to you- he really couldn’t understand it himself but his thoughts just told him to do it.

“The league of villains is outside, you either willingly come or be forced to.” He walked over to your balcony, the door still open and the wind gushing through your dark apartment.

Deep in your heart, it had broken for him. Just by looking at him, the crazy state he was in and the way he mumbled to himself. It just brought everything back to you. You felt an intense amount of guilt when it came to Katsuki. You completely blamed yourself for not pushing more to help him years ago.

You sighed as you stared at his back, you probably could easily take him out with your quirk, you weren’t completely weak- you were a pro after all but you just felt so many emotions that you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt him because deep down, you still saw him as the broken teenager from UA.

You didn’t realize your feet had walked towards the balcony where he stood. Your heart pounded inside your chest but it also ached at the same time. You looked out at the city lights, Bakugou glanced down at you and he chuckled under his breath before bringing his hands to push you off the balcony.

The sudden push had you screaming as you flew through the sky and down towards the street, convinced this was your last moments, convinced Bakugou had went through with murdering you but a pair of hands had swooped you up and safely set you on the ground.

Your eyes met with another villain, eyes wide and your hands shaking from the fall. Bakugou had landed shortly afterwards, laughing uncontrollably at your reaction and how shaken up you were. He was getting off to this and it had irritated you that he went to far lengths like that.

“Sorry, sweetheart- had to do it.” He licked his lips, staring down at you and grabbed your upper arm before walking down the sidewalk.

You had asked yourself repeatedly why you were doing this, why were you following him, why were you allowing this but just the glimpse you caught of Bakugou’s face, your vision blurry and your mind convincing you this was sixteen year old Katsuki holding onto your arm.

You were oblivious and stupid, you wanted to believe this was the old him and you wanted to simply believe he can come back from this. He noticed you staring at him, his red eyes piercing into yours and it frightened you a bit.

“Like what you see? Maybe you can see more once we get to the base.”

Should this be a mini series?🤔 thinking about it

• Main Masterlist •

• MHA Masterlist •

#bakugou imagines #bakugou imagine #bakugou fanfic #bakugou x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugo imagines #bakugo imagine #bakugo x reader #bakugo fanfic #bakugo headcanons #mha headcanons #mha imagines #villain bakugou #villain bakugo

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melanielocke · 3 years

Text

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 16

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

CW: this chapter delves a bit deeper into Alastair's head and can be a bit heavy

Previous Chapter: Chapter 15

Next Chapter: Chapter 17

I’d hoped some of you had more sense. I thought you could be a voice of reason among them, Alastair. The words echoed in Alastair’s head, he should have known this was bound to happen. The Herondales thought he was a good person, capable, trustworthy, and they were wrong. They would have found out eventually, but it still stung. And he’d tried. He’d wanted so badly to be what Will and Tessa believed he could be, but he couldn’t. Because he wasn’t a good person, he wasn’t capable, he wasn’t like Jem. He was awful and worthless and undeserving of their kindness.

Before dr. Gray could have said anything else, Alastair had left, gone to his bedroom. Years of practice to keep his expression blank, to never show that they get to you, it was all coming apart. He couldn’t do this anymore. He was so tired of pretending to be something he was not.

He collapsed onto the bed and curled up as if to protect himself. He grabbed his stuffed hedgehog, tried to find comfort in it. He was often ashamed to keep his hedgehog when he was far too old to still be sleeping with stuffed animals, but he’d never had a childhood, he’d never felt safe and protected. When he held his hedgehog, he could at least pretend. It wasn’t working. He felt so helpless, like everything was spiraling out of his control and he didn’t know how to make it go away. He had always liked to pretend he was in control, by keeping everything neat and organized he was controlling what he could. But the truth was that nothing in his life was in his control and it never would be.

He was caught in a storm and there was nowhere he could find shelter, the only thing he could was endure. He wasn’t sure how to do that either. At times like this Alastair feared it would always be like this and he would never get better. He wasn’t even sure what was going on, there was just an overwhelming sense of helplessness, of perceived danger and being too small and weak to do anything to protect himself.

He heard someone knock on the door. Cordelia, perhaps. Or Thomas. They couldn’t see him like this. They couldn’t see just how worthless and awful and broken he was. Even around them, he was pretending, acting like he was fine as long as people didn’t drink when he was around. Thomas deserved someone better than him, someone who could give him everything. Alastair was used to giving people he loved everything he could, and it had never been enough. He could not deny that he was the common factor there. Whatever love he had left was broken at its core, he could not love people enough and in return he did not deserve to be loved.

‘Alastair, are you in there!’ Cordelia yelled.

He wasn’t sure which was worse, Cordelia seeing him like this or Thomas. At least Cordelia had seen him break down before. Once upon a time, anger had been his defense. When things became too much and he couldn’t take it anymore, he would get angry. He’d yell at people, or else he’d turn stone cold and hateful. He’d hurt so many people with that, had so many regrets. He’d learnt to stop doing that. Lately he didn’t even know how to feel angry anymore. He often just felt empty inside, tired. Sometimes he didn’t feel anything anymore, as if he wasn’t even human. But that emptiness was still preferable to this, he thought, better than being overwhelmed by emotion, by a sudden sense of helplessness and a perceived danger he wasn’t even sure wasn’t there. Although perhaps when that helplessness went away and emptiness remained, he’d wish he could just feel something.

‘Leave me alone, Cordelia!’ Alastair yelled back, summoning the last bit of his old defensiveness.

‘Alastair, can we come in?’

Thomas, his voice gentle, but Alastair could hear some anxiety in there as well. Thomas might like him, find him attractive even, but he was bound to find out Alastair couldn’t be a good partner, couldn’t fulfill his needs.

‘Please don’t!’ Alastair said. His voice broke. ‘Just… leave me, alright? You don’t need me, you can find the selkie skin without me.’

‘Alastair, I’m going to sit out here, and when you’re ready, come open the door. I’ll wait all day if I have to.’

Alastair hadn’t expected his sister to respect his request, he’d expected her to barge in, Thomas in tow, and drag him out of bed. He wasn’t sure what to do now. He clutched his hedgehog against him. He didn’t know what to do anymore. He couldn’t save Thomas. He’d disappointed Tessa. His memory wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.

Alastair had always thought he could accept that very few people loved him. He didn’t like most other people much and preferred the safety of his own shell anyway. But he did long to be loved, even if he did not deserve it. Thomas was bound to find out soon enough, if he even survived. Alastair knew it would be his fault if they lost Thomas, because instead of working on saving him, he was here, broken down and useless. He never knew what to make of Will and Tessa, he suspected they had this idea of him that was more about his cousin Jem than about who he was. But Jem was extraordinary, and Alastair could never live up tot that.

He gave in to the overwhelming emotion and started crying. He tried to silence the sobs in his pillow, he didn’t want anyone to know he was crying. It was pointless, he knew, but Alastair was still so ashamed of his emotions.

He wasn’t sure how long he kept going. He cried until he couldn’t anymore, and when he was finished he just felt empty. At least that sense of helplessness was away, even if what replaced it wasn’t much better. Alastair dried his eyes and got out of bed, gently stroking his hedgehog before making his bed and carefully placing the hedgehog underneath his blanket.

He figured he might as well come out. At least now he could pretend things were fine, even if his eyes were still puffy and red. When he opened the door, both Cordelia and Thomas were sitting there, relieved to see the door finally open. How long had they been there, waiting for him? Why would they do that? Tessa was there too, and Alastair immediately regretted his decision to come out of his room and wanted to retreat.

‘I truly am sorry, dr. Gray,’ Alastair said, his voice small. He couldn’t look her in the eye, but then Alastair had always struggled with eye contact. It had taken him years to figure out the appropriate times to make eye contact and force himself to do it. When he was too overwhelmed he just couldn’t do it.

‘No, I am sorry,’ Tessa said. ‘My husband confessed he encouraged you to go into the woods. But even if he hadn’t, I should not have singled you out like that.’

Alastair wasn’t sure what to make of that apology. ‘We should not have lied,’ Alastair said.

He wanted to add an explanation of the selkies skin, but he felt he was still too overwhelmed to say more than a few words. He could pretend he still had this under control, that he still knew what he was doing and could save Thomas. He could pretend he wasn’t dead and empty inside. He would do the best he could, because Thomas deserved to live. And if it cost him his life, maybe that was for the best.

Alastair wasn’t suicidal, he’d never made concrete plans to end his own life, he only had the occasional thought of death. For some weird reason, that had gotten worse at first after leaving Father. Before, Alastair had no choice but to endure, because his mother and sister needed him. If he didn’t protect them, who would? But after leaving, he’d sometimes feel like he had no purpose anymore. He no longer had to protect his mother and Cordelia, and although he was safe now too he never felt that way. At times he did feel he might be better off dead. That had improved about a month after starting his medication though, he rarely had these thoughts anymore.

‘I trust you,’ Tessa said. ‘Can I talk to you for a moment? It’s alright if you prefer another time.’

Alastair nodded, still unable to meet Tessa’s eyes. He hoped he would be able to speak properly. On rare occasions, Alastair found himself unable to get the words through no matter how much he wanted to. It was something he hadn’t found an explanation for, but there were times he was too overwhelmed to speak. Usually when he was upset, he got angry and said cold, cruel things he didn’t mean. But when things got too bad and spiraled out of control sometimes he just couldn’t get words out, something he once concealed by giving people his most hostile glare and walking away.

Tessa sat down in one of the arm chairs in his room, and Alastair sat down in the other, hoping he’d be able to actually have a conversation.

‘I’m trying to figure out what’s going on inside your head,’ Tessa said. ‘I know what I said hurt you, and I should not have put that sort of responsibility on you. I admit I’d thought that since you were careful, you might keep Lucie and the others out of trouble. But that isn’t fair to you, and I want to make sure you’re alright.’

‘It’s fine,’ Alastair managed to say, glad to be able to get at least some words out. He didn’t understand it, and it was fortunately a rare enough occurrence that he hadn’t really tried to understand it. He figured it was just another thing that was broken about him, although this was something that had been present when he was a child as well.

‘You don’t have to parent my daughter, Alastair. Nor Cordelia,’ Tessa said. ‘That is my responsibility as Lucie’s mother.’

‘I’m not like Jem,’ Alastair said.

It was not exactly a logical response to what Tessa said. There was so much more he wanted to say, but those were the words he could get out of his mouth, the thing he wanted to make clear. Because he knew Will and Tessa thought he was like Jem, and they had impossible expectations of him because of that.

‘I know,’ Tessa said. ‘If anything, you’re more like Will. And Gideon. But most of all, you’re like you. And you’re enough, as you are. It is not weakness, that you are struggling, and we all want to do what we can to support you.’

Alastair could only nod in response.

‘And if you want to go back into the woods, I won’t stop you. I know you’ll make the right call, Alastair.’

She shouldn’t trust him, she really shouldn’t. But he knew he would only make this more difficult and uncomfortable if he said that, if he could even get the words past his lips. People often didn’t understand the way he thought, and explaining his reasoning sometimes made him feel like he was crazy. He went downstairs with Thomas and Cordelia, who were still waiting outside the room.

Tessa groaned when she only saw her husband in the living room, nose stuck in a book. ‘Where did Lucie go?’

‘She’s just in the garden,’ Will said. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

Alastair sat down on the couch next to Thomas and snuggled against him. He knew he didn’t deserve this, he knew it wouldn’t last, but he couldn’t help but indulge in the moment. At least Thomas was here now. At least it was something. At least he could feel something good now with Thomas so close to him. And Charles had never done anything like this, had never held him and comforted him. He wondered how soon Thomas would get tired of this.

Cordelia went outside to find Lucie, and Will and Tessa disappeared too, Alastair wasn’t sure where to. They’d be back soon enough, he guessed, and he was comfortable like this. Thomas was warm, and his strong arms were wrapped around him and kept him safe.

‘If there’s anything you need, just tell me,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m here for you, alright?’

Alastair just nodded, leaning into Thomas, placing Thomas’ arms in such a way that it was comforting and soothing. Lucie’s Lilo and Stitch blanket was next to him, and Alastair rubbed his hands over it, enjoying how soft it felt.

He didn’t dare voice his concerns about Thomas. He expected Thomas to deny it. People always lied, and sometimes they even believed their own lies. He suspected Thomas would. Thomas was so sweet and kind and saw good in people when there was nothing. He probably believed this would work out and he could love Alastair enough to fix what was broken. But Alastair had enough experience to know love didn’t fix anything.

‘I’m serious,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m not sure yet, how all this works, what you need, but I want to figure it out.’

Alastair kept rubbing his hand on the blanket, stroking it in a repetitive motion. He was feeling a little better, but so tired.

‘I’m still figuring it out, too,’ Alastair said, feeling like he had calmed enough to speak again. ‘That’s why I’m seeing a therapist. She helped me identify triggers and find better ways to cope with sudden flashbacks and fear than anger outbursts. I used to have those all the time.’

‘I heard something from James,’ Thomas admitted. ‘About a year ago. How you burst out against him and then Cordelia broke up with him.’

‘He must have been very upset,’ Alastair said, guilt creeping over him.

‘He was,’ Thomas said. ‘I think at the time he didn’t understand why Cordelia had broken up with him. Lucie did though, she did the best she could to explain. But as James told it, you were so angry with him for no reason, and he was terrified. But I’m thinking, that must have been because of your disorder, right?’

Alastair sighed. ‘Please do not use my PTSD as an excuse for my behavior. I know I’ve said and done awful things, nothing excuses that. But yes, before I started therapy, I lashed out when I was upset. And that night, James and Cordelia were fighting over something. I’m not sure what it was about, probably something silly, and I’m guessing the fight itself must not have been so serious. But I’d just come home from my ex, and when I heard them I thought he was hurting her. I thought she was in danger. So I got angry. It never got physical, by the way. People always think I’m violent, because that’s how they view Persian men, but I’m not. Then James got angry too. And I understand. All he knew of me was the bastard I’d been when we went to school together, and he thought I was a monster. He said he didn’t understand why my sister still loved me, and when Cordelia asked him to leave, he at first refused to leave her alone with me, convinced I’d hurt my own sister.’

Alastair was shaking, even if it had been over a year ago. And honestly, he couldn’t blame James. He knew it was his fault, and he knew James’ perception of him was influenced by how he’d treated James. It would have been a lot worse coming from someone he didn’t have a past with. He knew that because of the way they looked, people expected Alastair to be violent and controlling and people expected Cordelia to be meek and submissive and in need of rescue from her family, or well, the Iranian part of her family. He knew many would assume his sister needed to be rescued from him, when he’d done everything he could to protect her.

‘Cordelia stepped in, and dragged James out before it got out of hand, and later I learnt that’s when she’d broken up with him.’

‘It’s not so much an excuse as it is an explanation,’ Thomas said. ‘We can all grow and do better, and having a disorder is not an excuse to hurt people, but I know you’re doing the best you can and I feel it would be unfair to hold you to the same standards as someone who does not have PTSD.’

Alastair wasn’t sure he agreed. More than anything, he wished he could be normal, he wished he could be in control and be good enough. He was doing the best he could, Thomas was right about that. But the best he could wasn’t enough.

‘But if I cannot be held to the same standards, what about my father?’ Alastair asked. ‘Does that mean, because addiction is a disorder as well, he cannot be held to higher standards? Could I not have expected more of him?’

Thomas frowned. ‘I don’t think it’s the same. As I said, having a disorder is not an excuse when you hurt someone. But you were very young when you did hurt people, and you stopped. You changed. You’re going to therapy. Your father never did any of that, did he?’

‘No he didn’t,’ was all Alastair said.

When he was younger, he’d been foolish enough to believe his father’s promises. He would say he’d quit, that it wouldn’t happen again, that he’d gotten better. But he never did. He wasn’t sure he could explain the disappointment, of finding his father passed out with a bottle again after believing his promises.

‘I think I’m not explaining it well,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m not sure… I know you’re sorry, for what you did, and that you’re trying to do better. But I think you lashing out because of your fear is not the same thing as someone else who is awful to people because they enjoy hurting others, or because they believe they’re better than them. You still have the responsibility to do better, but it’s not the same.’

‘I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone,’ Alastair said softly, tears in his eyes. ‘That’s the thing, I always knew it was awful, I knew what I did to people. I knew how much it hurt and I never wanted to do that to someone else. But I did it anyway, because I couldn’t take it anymore. At the time I thought those were my options, be bullied or become the bully. And I convinced myself, no matter what I did, it wasn’t as bad as they’d done to me. But that didn’t matter.’

Alastair burst into tears. He tried to stop it, to control himself, but he couldn’t. Part of him expected Thomas to let go of him, but he didn’t and Alastair leaned into him even more, closing his eyes. He could feel comfortable like this. He could pretend he was safe and protected. Thomas’ strong arms made a better illusion of safety than a lifeless stuffed hedgehog, for sure.

It was difficult, when someone could see right through him. And he knew Thomas had always seen through him. Had Thomas made excuses for his behavior back then? Had he defended him from his friends? Thomas had said he’d always seen Alastair was very sad, had he suspected something was not right? Had he used that as an excuse for the awful things he’d done? It was sweet of Thomas, for sure. But he didn’t want people to make excuses for him, he didn’t want them to pretend it was fine. He knew he didn’t deserve that.

‘You know, my father told me he was quite awful when he was in school,’ Thomas said. ‘When he went to Spain, he realized what his father had taught him was wrong and he didn’t want to be like that anymore. He deserved a second chance, and so do you. So far, you’re doing an amazing job.’

Alastair was tempted to shut Thomas down again. He wasn’t doing a good job. He’d tried to change, to be better, and at least he was no longer hurting others, but what use was it when he couldn’t help them either, when the only alternative to hurting others was hurting himself? But he was curious too, how similar was he to Gideon Lightwood? Tessa had drawn the same comparison.

‘I really can’t picture your father as a school bully,’ Alastair said, wiping at his eyes.

‘Me neither,’ Thomas admitted. ‘But he believes everyone deserves a second chance, because where would he be if he hadn’t been given one? And I find it really hard to believe what you said to me about my parents only liking you because of your power or because you want to save me. That’s not what they’re like at all.’

Alastair wasn’t sure how to explain that to Thomas. Perhaps he was making too many assumptions, but it just seemed unlikely anyone could like him for him as a person. People liking his power made much more sense. It was the only thing his father had liked about him, the only part of him he’d showed even an ounce of interest in. It was the only part Father hadn’t deemed worthless.

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ was all Alastair said, mostly because he didn’t know how to explain what he was really feeling and didn’t want Thomas to worry.

Lucie and Cordelia returned inside, both their faces serious and Alastair suspected they were still concerned about the selkie’s skin. He had run out of ideas on how to enter that world by now. He sat up, but didn’t quite move away from Thomas yet. It felt too good to be held like this, Thomas’ arms applying just the right amount of pressure to be soothing. He wanted to hold on to that feeling.

‘Okay, so I have some news,’ Lucie said. ‘Grace escaped from Tatiana again and came to deliver a message to me. She claims I am a witch and I can use dark magic to open a gateway.’

‘Doesn’t using dark magic require making a deal with something like the creature we’re trying to defeat?’ Thomas asked.

‘According to Grace, not when you’re a witch. But that’s very uncommon, apparently. And she thinks my seeing ghosts is a sign I’m a witch. Problem is, I have no clue how to do any of the things she claims I can do. What do you know about witches?’

‘All I know is, sometimes people are born with certain powers, like my memory, but as far as I know all such powers are rare and no one understands why it happens,’ Alastair said. ‘Since she’s not human, maybe she knows more.’

‘There was an evil witch a few centuries back who was defeated by your and Cordelia’s ancestor,’ Lucie said. ‘And then she turned into a mermaid, which is how Grace knew about her.’

‘Some of our ancestors did keep journals, in an attempt to improve our knowledge of the supernatural,’ Alastair said. ‘Of course, those are full of contradictions, and sometimes racist assumptions about creatures that aren’t evil or dangerous, but protected indigenous cultures from colonizers. But a story about a witch would likely be documented.’

‘Can we see these journals?’ Lucie asked. ‘I’m guessing your ancestor didn’t know much about how she did it, but he must have known what she used to fight him.’

Alastair shook his head. ‘My father has them.’

Alastair couldn’t face his father, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready, even if needed to. He felt tired and empty now where he was somewhat safe, but he suspected he’d fall apart if he had to confront his father. He definitely didn’t want Cordelia to have to talk to him. For a long time, she’d idolized him, but now that she knew the truth, and knew how it had affected him, she was angry.

‘Your father could ask for them,’ Thomas suggested to Lucie. ‘Will has known him for some time. Or perhaps he can ask uncle Jem to talk to Elias.’

Alastair wasn’t sure his father would listen. He wasn’t sure what to think, what to expect from his father now. He hadn’t seen him since he left, not outside his memories and nightmares. He didn’t know what his father was up to, and he didn’t want to know. All he knew was, Jem was still trying, Jem never gave up on anyone. But Alastair had given up a long time ago.

#Alastair Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Lucie Herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #Thomastair #Lucelia #the last hours #tlh #fanfiction

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mfingenius · 4 years

Note

If you're taking prompts, can I request some hurt Draco with a very worried Harry? Maybe they are auror partners and the incident makes Harry realise he loves Draco? I'd be ever so grateful if you choose my prompt to fill. Thank you.

“Will you stand still, Potter?” Draco asks, too tired to be properly annoyed. “You’re worse than an anxious chihuahua.”

Harry turns to glare at him. “Stand still? Stand still? Are you insane? You almost died!”

Draco grimaces. He doesn’t need the reminder, thank you very much; he can still feel his Sectumsempra scars reopening. In the dark, terrifying moment before he’d lost consciousness, he’d seen Harry kneeling above him, ashen, and he’d thought I’ve lived through this before.

Of course, this time, it wasn’t Harry who cut him open. It was just a half-arsed bad guy with a nifty curse and a lucky hit. He wasn’t even one of the more skillful wizards he and Harry had dueled together, he just managed to catch them in an off morning.

“I know,” he says. “But I didn’t. Can you sit down now?”

Harry glares harder, and Draco rolls his eyes and sinks back onto fluffy white pillows; usually, it’s the other way around. Harry does something stupid and reckless, Draco stops him from dying and gets him to St. Mungo’s, and then Draco’s furious for approximately twelve hours afterwards, though he’s gone as long as seventy two when Harry did something particularly moronic.

“No,” Harry snaps, low and dangerous. “I’m going to find that guy and I’m going to bloody kill him.”

“I swoon,” Draco deadpans, rolling his eyes, even though it is a little flattering; should the Saviour of the Wizarding World offering to kill someone for Draco be flattering? Draco doesn’t know, but it sure feels that way.

“I’m not fucking joking, Malfoy,” Potter says roughly.

“Oh, are we back to Malfoy now?” Draco drawls, pretending to be uninterested when he’s really anything but. He’s never really stopped calling Potter by his last name - unless he’s dying, which happens more often than Draco would like - but Potter hasn’t called him Malfoy for months. “I’m wounded, Potter, really, and you decide to kick a man when he’s down?”

“Don’t,” Potter snaps. “Why are you so calm? You almost died today, I could’ve lost you!”

The silence is deafening after that. Draco can feel his cheeks heating, but he merely lifts his head and raises an unimpressed eyebrow at his Auror partner.

“How do you think I feel,” he says, very quietly. “Every time I have to drag your arse here, not knowing if you’re going to make it this time?”

“That’s not the same thing,” Potter snaps. He’s still covered in Draco’s blood, dark even against the dark red of his Auror robes, and Draco shouldn’t find that as attractive as he does. Does he have psychological issues?

Of course I do, he thinks immediately, making a face. But what else is new?

”How is it different? You might be ‘The Boy Who Lived’, Potter, but you can die just like the rest of us now.” If he’s quite honest, Draco’s not willing to bet his money on that; he’s half convinced Potter is somehow immortal. It would be just like the git.

Still, in those terrifying moments when Potter’s bleeding or unconscious in his arms and Draco’s trying to calm himself enough to apparate them to St. Mungo’s, he doesn’t feel like that. He feels terrifyingly fragile.

“You’re just not used to it being the other way around,” Draco offers with a shrug. “It’ll be alright. I’m alright.”

Potter finally seems to go slack, face exhausted and vulnerable, and he sinks into the armchair next to Draco’s bed.

“You can’t do this to me again,” he says. “I can’t do this again.”

“Sure,” Draco says. “Mind offering some reciprocity? I don’t know how you haven’t noticed, but I don’t particularly enjoy you almost dying every other case we work together.”

“I do what needs to be done,” Potter defends.

“So do I,” Draco snaps. “And I don’t almost die while doing it.”

Potter’s jaw sets stubbornly, and Draco rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” he says. “I might just start behaving the way you do, though, and we’ll see how you like it. How long do you think it’ll take before we’re here again? If we’re both reckless idiots I bet we don’t make it till the end of the month-”

“Don’t joke about it, Malfoy,” Potter says gruffly, snatching Draco’s hand; if Draco had more blood in his body - because he almost bled out, get it? - he’d be blushing. “You can’t just - Jesus, fuck - how did I not notice-”

He shakes his head at himself.

“Are you planning to finish any of your sentences?” Draco asks with a yawn. He’s exhausted, and he should be resting, but he just couldn’t let Potter to spiral on his own.

“Shut up,” Potter says; he sounds calmer, and Draco nuzzles closer to his pillow. “Get some rest. The healers won’t like that I’ve kept you up this long.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Draco mutters, seconds before he falls asleep.

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

Send me a Request :D

If you enjoyed this, please consider buying me a kofi <3

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#fanfic #drarry #mine

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ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

Fresh Squeeze, Ch. 5

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall

Set in 2023, post-pandemic

Warnings: Cursing, Angsty Angst, drug and alcohol use, surprise flights, Anthony Ramos. Lots of Plot.

Word Count: 3.5 K

Plot: Linden Marshall just finished law school at Columbia University in NYC. Daveed Diggs is still creating magic with his platonic life partner Rafael Casal in the form of their Blindspotting musical, Bay Boys. Linden’s boyfriend WAS Mark Monaco, star of the superhero movie series Invincible. They were together for years, and her trauma and his addictions were toxic. She knows now that wasn’t love.

A/N: Keep in mind that this the same AU as Arrivals, with Holly Woods, but is BEFORE Rafa and Holly get together. And don’t come for me about Anthony.

Read the Previous Chapter.

===================

NYC, May 2023

Jasmine was blowing up your phone as you were trying to get dressed. You had to search for it under the pile of clothes on your bed.

You had procrastinated getting ready, trying to finish one of your applications for a summer internship at this law firm in Harlem that you were excited about.

You wanted to finally relax after finishing Columbia law in the top 10% of your class. You just wanted to relax and enjoy this weekend.

Craig, your mom and your uncle were the only ones to attend your graduation. They knew you didn’t want any fanfare, so your famous friends didn’t attend, and they had a show to do, but they’d sent you tons of well wishes.

We're coming up, get decent!

You chuckled and shook your head. Anthony usually raided the refrigerator when he came over. This time, you told him to bring his own snacks..

You slipped on what you were wearing for the night. Craig was in his room getting ready and you had volunteered his place, so you were playing hostess. You were surprised that he was so chill about it, actually.

“Pika Pika,” you said to yourself in the mirror then ran to answer the doorbell. It was almost 6 pm.

You opened the door for Cookie Monster and Big Bird. You burst out laughing. But you stopped when you saw Anthony's face. He had like five bags from Whole Foods that he was juggling in his blue arms.

"Jazzy!!!! There's my girl. Hey Ant! leave the food and your girl. We may run off together."

Anthony came in the door loaded down with bags and kissed you on the cheek.

“I love you Lindy, but fuck you man.” You punched him on the shoulder.

“Ow! Time to get this party started!”

Linden heard Jazzy’s Brooklyn accent turn into a London lilt as she started play fighting with Ant. They felt like family at this point.

=================

Ever since the launch party in January, Jasmine had pursued you as a friend persistently. You normally didn’t let anyone in because of the circumstances of your life, but Jas was oblivious to your awkwardness with normal human beings.

“Girl, you are fucking DOPE, and you are NOT gonna deny my love. I know your life has been a trip, and you don’t have to tell me all of it, but I’m not gonna let you shrivel up and be a little retiring wallflower. Life is to be lived.”

Jasmine telling you that during a Saturday brunch date in February was the key to your heart. She drew you out, and you didn’t see what value you added to her life.

But she loved you anyway. And you loved her, and of course, Anthony was part of the package.

He was beautiful, loud, talented, and reckless, but he reminded you too fucking much of Dell to be annoyed with him very long.

Your circle had certainly widened from just Craig. That was one thing for which you could thank Mark. You were working on him being a distant memory. He hadn’t lasted too long in Bay Boys, quitting soon after the musical opened in March.

Daveed’s hands and feet had ‘slipped’ one too many times during the scene when he was stomping his ass on stage. Mark cited health reasons, and publicly spiraled a bit. He was currently in rehab.

Again.

You had not heard from him and that was absolutely fine with you.

Because Jasmine was in Bay Boys and that was her life, the cast and crew became yours as well. Rafael was the type of chaotic creative genius that fascinated you; you could listen to him talk for hours.

Things with Daveed were more tricky. Ever since that awkwardness with him after the launch party, you’d kept your distance, but you hung out a lot, so you were trying to be friends.

When you and Jas and Ant and Rafa hung out and talked, Daveed was there, smiling shyly and sneaking glances at you, throwing in pearls of wisdom every so often.

He was so dope and so talented and intelligent and so freaking hot, but you were trying to get yourself together. You were convinced that night in January had been a mistake.

You needed some space. And time. Law school was no joke, and you were in therapy so entanglements was not what was up.

Daveed sensed your hesitancy and decided to stop pursuing you. But he couldn’t stop how he felt.

You were both a little wasted and keyed up the night of the launch party, and despite the way you were beautiful and intelligent and sexy as fucking hell, he was not going to press you.

Daveed was sure that you two could be something special if you would give it a chance, but he didn’t want to chase you, but he was so gone for you, that if you just nodded your head at him, he would be at your feet.

The attraction was undeniable. There was a crazy little dance you two did that everyone recognized and respected. This group seemed to know you were fragile, and that you didn’t need to be pushed too far.

But the more they persisted, the more you came out of your shell. The more you trusted, the more the old Lindy came back.

Craig noticed first soon after you started hanging with the crew when you were trying to find a place to live. He went to one showing with you and sat you down for a talk.

“Girl, I love the light in your eyes. I haven’t seen this Lindy since…well in a long time. Stay with me for as long as you want. I know you need to get through this last semester of school, you don’t need one more thing to think about. I’m proud of the work that you’re doing on yourself, Linden.”

You were grateful to Craig. His place on the Upper West Side was super convenient to Columbia, and not having to think about finding a place was so clutch. Third year was kicking your ass.

“Besides, I wouldn’t have this place if it wasn’t for…”

“Hush, I don’t want to hear that. Dell would have wanted this. I love you cuzzo.”

=================

Craig came out in a Sully onesie and immediately dragged Jasmine into a conversation about the Met Gala that had happened a few days ago.

You approached the kitchen where Ant stood, food all around him on the counter. You were whispering. He smiled a secret smile at you.

“I’m so proud of you doing this for Jasmine. It’s good for you all to get away. I’m glad that she got a little break. She deserves it all.”

Anthony had arranged for this little get together to be a surprise for Jasmine. This was going to be a kickback weekend.

The show was on a four day hiatus while the set was moved to a bigger theatre. It was a hit and was destined for a long run.

Ant’s green eyes lit up as you kept talking about Jasmine.

“Yeah, she does. And the woman of the hour deserves all the happiness in the world.” He lifted his beer to you.

They way he said that was weird and you were about to ask him what was up with that when the doorbell started ringing, you went to answer it and were stuck there for a few minutes as people started coming in.

The food and the drinks were flowing while all kinds of characters came in.

Now they also had Jack Skellingtom, and a Care Bear in the house to add to Big bird, Cookie Monster, Pikachu and Sully. It was an odd cast of characters who were jamming to 90's rap, eating chicken wings and basically tripping like only friends could do.

Then there was Toni, some tag-along chick who showed up with Rafa. She had on a plain gray onesie. What a downer.

You’d pegged her for a star fucker who only hung with Rafa because of who he and his friends were. The girl was too much in everyone's business.

"Sooooo. You and Mark ARE broken up for real for real. The tabloids say y’all are back together! I told my friend Susie you weren’t, but she wouldn't believe me."

You just smiled and didn't confirm or deny, treating Toni like the paparazzi. The girl was oblivious to your hate and just kept talking.

Daveed rescued you.

"Hey, Toni, show these folks how you can blow. They're setting up the karaoke machine over there. Show us what you're working with. Someone might hook you up with a gig."

Toni perked up and hurried over to Anthony and Craig, who were setting up the lyrics on the big screen to match the karaoke music. Some Bad Boy joints were up.

Rafa was behind them screaming, "Dylan, Dylan, Dylan!"

They were a scene. You breathed and relaxed a little.

"Don't stress. She's not coming with us to the island."

You looked up at the tall, fine Grumpy Care Bear who was nursing some of your special 18-year-old Chivas Regal that you had gotten for graduation. His beautiful smile shined out of his brown face and beneath the curls tumbling out of his hood.

“I’m not pressed. I’m chilling. You can do what you want. With who you want.”

“She’s not with me. Rafa brought her for the ride to the airport. And it’s not entirely true that I can do what I want. With who I want. Because what if who I want to do doesn’t want to do me?”

You knew what he meant. But you eyed his drink instead of looking at him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him. That was far from the truth. You didn’t want to get lost in him. And you could see that happening.

Daveed saw your wheels turning. You were over analyzing again. He’d spent three months observing you every chance he got. He felt like he knew your anxieties. So fucking smart, but here you were thinking too much.

"Hey Genuis Ass. Want some?" Daveed’s voice was softer as he grinned and offered you some of his drink. “Or, I could go make you something?” For some reason he wanted you to get loose.

"Nah, I'm good Diggs.” For some reason you needed to stay in control. You played it off by changing the subject.

“I still can’t believe y’all call me that.”

Daveed just smiled and nodded, chuckling a little. He craned his neck and looked at it, having to dodge a smack upside the head.

“That ass is genius, you know. That’s the one thing He Who Shall Not Be Named was right about. And you’re one of the smartest humans I know.”

You had to look at him then. The flecks of gold in his eyes tho. But you could tell from the slight redness that he was a little zooted. He didn’t get that way around you a lot, but you knew for the stories that he partied occasionally.

He and Rafa and that Toni chick must have pre-gamed. You remembered the last time you two were tipsy together.You cleared your throat and looked away.

“Why did you lie to that girl? She can’t sing.” You were shaking your head, scowling at Toni’s screeching from the karaoke machine.

He winked at you. D was well on his way to getting LIT.

"What? She can blow.” Daveed sipped his drink and watched her.

“She’ll suck your soul out and spit it back in your mouth." Daveed was loose. And so was his mouth. But he didn’t care.

Your mouth was hanging open at Daveed as you wondered what Daveed had done with Toni, what Daveed AND Rafa had done with Toni...

Shit, you were just going to ask.

"How do you know that she..."

"AWWWW SHEEEIIIITTT! THAT'S MY JAM! REMEMBER THIS LINDY??"

“No, I was like, negative 5..”

You raised your voice as he traveled away from you, smiling. He was not slick.

“Well you missed out being tardy to the party…”

He was backing toward the mic, knocking it out of Anthony’s hand and starting the rap. Rafa joined him, trading verses.

Now as the record spins around, you recognize this sound,

Well, it's the underground,

You know that we're down with wutchyalike

Yeah, with wutchyalike, yeah

And though we're usually on the serious tip, check it out:

Tonight we're gonna flip and trip and let it all hang out tonight,

We're gonna say what we like.

'Cause, yo, yo, we want to know how many people in the flow,

Would like to just let yourselves go

And doowutchyalike,

Yeah, well tonight's your night.

Just eat food, try not to be crude or rude,

Kill the attitude, chill the serious mood,

And doowutchyalike,

Yeah, and doowutchyalike,

Everybody doowutchyalike

Everyone was dancing and Daveed had effectively deflected your question. But you would never forget.

By 8 o’clock, Craig grabbed the mic and motioned for Jasmine to come with him. You had enjoyed some cocktails finally, and just figured they were going to duet Wind Beneath My Wings just like they always did.

You were actually moving to the music and feeling good.

"Ok guys, whew. I'm hot. Is it hot in herrrre?" Craig was fanning himself.

“Whoooo! Nelly!”

You yelled and everyone laughed.

Craig took his hood off and started to unzip his onesie. Jasmine did the same.

You kept dancing nervously, not realizing it, looking around at the others who were also disrobing. You did a double take as D’s abs came into view. What was going on?

Craig continued.

"Lindy, I just need a minute to talk, can you stop whatever it is you're doing?" He grinned at you from across the room. "You're still moving Lindy."

You blushed and stopped fidgeting.

"Ummm, Craig, what the..."

One by one people dropped their onesies, all except Toni, who had no clue what was going on. Soon, everyone was standing in Craig’s condo in their swimsuits, looking fine as hell.

You just looked around, then in your cup wondering if you were too drunk and hallucinating.

“Lindy, you’ve worked real hard, and this past few months have been crazy, so we wanted to do something special for you this weekend, for your graduation, and for your birthday, WHICH IS SUNDAY!!”

Everyone cheered as Jasmine took the mic. “You think this party is for me. Well the joke’s on you bitch, because you have been hosting your own party!”

You opened your mouth, squeaked a little, then spoke,

"But why?.. Everybody? But what..."

Daveed moved close.

"Damn, you fine," you whispered.

Your hand flew to your mouth when he smirked in response. Everyone was rolling because turns out, you didn’t whisper.

Daveed cleared his throat. "Thank you. You’re fine yaseif. Anyway, Anthony and Jasmine have a house there, and we’re flying out of JFK tonight. In about two and a half hours in fact. So we gotta get going.”

You still had only a part of a clue of what was going on. But you couldn't resist all of this.

"Okay? But... I don't have any clothes. And I don’t have a ticket..."

Craig came from the storage room off the kitchen with one of your suitcases. Others started getting their bags as well

"Everybody's shit has been in my house for a week. And girl, you know I got your information. It ain’t nothing but a thang. Your ticket is ready and waiting. Just sent it to your email.”

Your mouth dropped open and you stared at Craig as everyone pulled their onesies back up and got their bags together.

Your eyes filled with tears that you hurriedly brushed away. Craig came over and hugged you. Then every else joined in for a group hug.

"You deserve, Lindy. Let us celebrate you."

You looked like you didn't quite believe it, but you went along. You laughed, visibly deciding to go with the flow.

"I'm down!"

Toni was nearby. When the hug broke up, she started asking questions. Your patience was wearing thin.

"I don’t believe that all these people really roll like this. Y’all wild. Susie won that bet."

You just continued to look at this fool.

"But isn’t this dope? All these famous, successful men being so fearless with their love and appreciation for Black women, of all people. Who woulda thunk they didn't want white women?"

Toni just kept saying the wrong thing. It was the "of all people" for you.

You stared daggers at your houseguest. Toni caught the look.

"Wait, are you mixed?"

You narrowed your eyes and said, "Black mixed with Black."

Toni clutched her pearls.

"Oh wow. Didn't mean to offend. I just mean everyone knows Jasmine is mixed, with her dad and all, as black as can be. But her white British mom saved her from his skin tone. I mean, she has braids in now, so you can see it, but all she has to do is blow her hair straight and she can pass..."

Toni jumped when Rafa spoke. She didn't know he was there.

"Toni. Not Jas. She's the homie."

The look in his ice blue eyes could burn.

"And you are a Black woman, so you know how dope they are. Why would anyone NOT worship at your feet?"

Lindy just sipped her drink as Craig entered the chat. "Amen!"

"Maybe it is time for you to get going, honey. I might call you when I get back."

Rafa led Toni to the door as she protested.

"But I was going to take you to the air..."

"And I APPRECIATE you Black woman, but we'll get there. See you later."

Then Rafa shut the door in her face. Linden discovered she loved him eternally at that moment. She was rolling.

No one mourned Toni’s departure as arrangements were made for cars to take everyone to the airport.

"You and Daveed can ride with us, Rafa." Ant to the rescue.

"Yeah, Jasmine loves to look at my profile." Jas pinched him so hard he jumped.

“Fuck!”

Ant was screaming as he, Jasmine and Rafa went out the door.

"Peace! See you at airport security. If you get nabbed by TSA, you on your own!”

Daveed lingered. “I don’t know if all of us and our bags will fit in one car. Can I ride with you and Lindy, Craig?”

Craig smirked at Daveed, but didn’t say anything. “Of course...you good with that Lindy?”

You tried to keep it light.

“Sure.. no biggie,” you cleared your throat and headed to the bathroom to make sure you had everything you needed.

=================

By the time you got to your Uber, the traffic was horrible. It took over an hour to get to the airport. You felt both anxious about missing the flight and keyed up about sitting next to Daveed in the car.

His thigh and side pressing into yours in the dark in the back of an Uber Black brought back memories of that reckless night.

When he put his arm up on the seat behind you, “For more room,” he said, in that voice and flashing that megawatt smile, you were enveloped more into his scent and warmth. You had to control yourself not to melt into him.

Craig was sitting on his phone, sneaking glances at you and smirking the entire ride. He’d insisted that you be in the middle because you were so tiny.

The whole world was against you, you thought, as you and Daveed both stared straight ahead, both flashing back to that January night.

You were the last three people to run through the airline gate just at they were about to close it. All your friends in first class cheered when you took their seats, and Rafa popped a bottle of champagne.

"Talk about cutting it close," Ant commented as Rafa gave Daveed a high five.

Daveed looked at you. You shook your head at him. Somehow, you were sitting next to him. You just decided to let it be and have some time.

“Just make sure you don’t molest me under this blanket, Ms. Marshall,” Daveed intoned when you were settled and given amenities for the night.

The flight attendant had to tell y’all to keep quiet as the cat calls went up.

Welp, you thought. This will be the vibe the entire weekend.

You weren’t mad at it. You loved these people. And you were safe. You just smiled, settled down, and looked out of the window to watch the lights of New York fade away.

=================

Read the next chapter

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Tagging: @braidedchallah @einfachniemand @sillyteecup @commandersmiley @ohsoverykeri-blog @theselilwonders @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @id-do-it-for-free-babe

#Daveed Diggs #daveed x reader #daveed diggs x black reader #daveed diggs x ofc reader #Daveed diggs x ofc black reader #daveed diggs x you #daveed diggs imagine #daveed diggs angst #daveed diggs fluff #anthony ramos #jasmine cephas jones #Rafael Casal #Hamilfam #blindspotting #Daveed x Linden

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aotimagines · 3 years

Text

Aperture [1]

Hey. Remember when this blog hit 5,000 followers and I mentioned I was going to be writing something self-indulgent? The moment has finally arrived, lol. The idea spiraled way out of control before I could stop myself so here we are. This is probably not what the anon meant when they sent this in, but I couldn’t stop myself from plotting this story out. It’ll probably have around 8-10 chapters and I want to be realistic and say I’ll be able to update frequently, but there are no promises. My goal is for a new chapter every two weeks, but it’ll probably be closer to once a month. It will contain NSFW at some point, so minors do not interact. To the anon who sent this request in almost a year ago, I am so sorry this has taken me this long to write. I apologize and hope that this suffices. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

“Could you lift your head and look towards the camera, please?”

Your breath was nearly whisked away from your lungs at the sight of your model’s eyes flickering towards you, the intensity swirling behind his irises rooting you to your spot. They reflected the ocean itself—deep, vibrant, and tumultuous just like rolling waves and you felt yourself drowning at sea. You could barely tear your eyes away from his ethereal beauty; from the sharp angle of his jaw, to his sinewy, sun-kissed skin. Each and every ripple of muscle resembled someone akin to a Greek statue over real life and the longer you looked at your model, the more difficult it became to stop your eyes from gazed lower…

Immediately, you brought your camera back up to your eye to conceal your reverie and took another photo, peeling the camera back to examine the frame you had just taken with more intense than you should have. “Great!” Your voice came out rushed and quick—high and pitchy. You wanted to die right then and there on the spot, but you needed to act more professional even if you couldn’t resist the temptation to ogle your client’s perfectly sculpted, perfectly nude body.

It was wrong. It was beyond heinous but, the instant Eren Jaeger walked out to your photoshoot and shed his robe, his stunning looks had been on your mind. As a professional photographer, you had seen your fair share of models, both nude and not, so why were you acting so ridiculous? There was something undeniably electric about Eren and the way he was able to express so much emotion through his eyes alone. After having worked with him for only an hour, you could definitely see why he was scouted to be a model. There was an air of shyness that radiated off him despite the wave of confidence that brimmed so brightly from within. It was cute, which felt foreign and almost like an insult when thinking about the man standing before you.

Still, you needed to maintain your composure and do your job. You could allow yourself to be dazzled by your model for a moment, but now you needed to get back to work. Standing, you exchanged a friendly smile with Eren and motioned to his hands, pointing out, “Do you mind if we get some close-up shots of the watch? I know the campaign said that they wanted a full body shot, but I’d like to give some other options…”

“Sure,” he agreed, his electric gaze never leaving your face even as he held out his wrist and loosened the tension. Immediately, you snapped into your role as the photographer and began taking photos, unaware that you inching several steps closer.

Captivated with the elegance of his long, deft fingers, you became enraptured in your own little world and mindless gave instruction and praise, your prior embarrassment all but gotten. You were unaware of the way Eren’s eyes were glued to your every expression; the way your tongue would push through your lips as you found an angle or shape you liked. As exhilarated as you were to photograph him, Eren was, in kind, just as thrilled to way the way you worked. It was difficult tot keep cool and focus on his job with the way you moved around him, the sheer delight across your face almost tangible. He had been subjected to many photographers, some good and bad, but never…

“Okay!” Your voice dragged him from his thoughts, your lips curved into a soft, gentle smile. “I think we got it? Good work, Eren. You were great.”

“Ah—thanks,” he replied, the fabric of his robe hitting his shoulders before he realized it. One of the assistants must have gotten it for him and it took him all but five seconds to realize that he was still standing before you, naked. His cheeks heated up, a tennis ball lodged in the back of his throat, but he managed to force out, “You were a good photographer. It was, uh…easy to follow your instruction.”

You were positively beaming by the time he glanced at your face, eyes wide and sparkling. “Thank-you! That means a lot, especially since I’m kind of new to working on a professional set and everything.”

“Seriously!” Eren couldn’t believe that he was still continuing the conversation—continuing to praise you, a complete and utter stranger—but here he was. Eren was not the type of person to be physically attracted to anyone right off the bat, but there was something so…mesmerizing about you that he couldn’t bring himself to stop talking. “It was a nice shoot. I didn’t even realize we were here for a couple hours.”

“Me either,” came your confession, camera clutched between your hands. “You take direction really well. Oh!” As if an idea just came to your head, you moved to the monitors behind the lights and popped out your SD card, gently sliding the chip inside the reader. Angling your chin, you glanced up at his features, your eyes shining with complete and utter excitement. “Want to see some of the shots? I usually offer to let the models see so they can view the before and after.”

“Uh…” Eren contemplated it for a moment, his mind very cognizant of the fact that he was still only wearing a robe. You seemed completely oblivious to it, which dashed some of his prior thoughts. A moment passed by until he cracked a smile and moved closer to gaze down at the computer monitor. “Sure. I don’t really get a chance to see what I can improve on, or anything.”

Your fingers clicked open the file folder, pulling up the images you had taken not even ten minutes ago. Scrolling through, your eyes darted from one side of the screen to the other as if making mental notes about which ones you wanted to save for editing, later. “Here—this one is really nice,” you said, double-clicking the image until it was pulled up for Eren to see. Despite his nudity being on full display, Eren couldn’t help but notice how…tasteful it was done. Truly, like mentioned in the job description, his focus was on the multitude of watches adorning his wrist, but there was something else about it that…

It was like you had managed to dig deep inside of him and photograph his soul; his emotions. Everything was displayed in his eyes and it took Eren a second to recognize himself. His silence made you worry, hastily bringing up, “Of course, they will look better with editing in post, but—”

Eren shook his head, cutting off your explanation before you could really begin. “No, it’s—it’s not that! Really, the photos are…” He floundered for the right word to describe what you had created; what you had managed to pull out of him and then captured on film. No other photographer had managed that before, so to see himself like that was a little…

“It’s different,” he concluded, gaze still lingering on the images on the screen. “I’m not used to seeing myself look like that. You’re an amazing photographer and I’m sort of struggling to come up with a better compliment than that.”

Visibly, you relaxed upon hearing his praise, pride swelling inside your chest when you realized that he liked the photos. “It makes it easier when my model is able to pull from within, too,” you countered, finally looking up at him after what felt like an eternity. Eren’s eyes met yours and it was like a magnetic field was drawing you closer to him, but you refrained from your urges and settled for exiting out of the photos. It took everything inside of you to swallow back the attraction and fascination that was bubbling inside of you, which only made you antsy and anxious to begin the editing process.

“Anyways, I should let you get dressed. I’m sure you’re itching to get out of here.”

“Ah, right.” Reluctantly, Eren broke eye contact first and stretched, the fabric of his thin robe inching higher against his toned thighs. You jerked your head away from him to conceal the heat crawling across your cheeks and praised whatever deity above that Eren hadn’t paid any attention to your sudden shy demeanor. He seemed to think to himself for a moment before exhaling deeply and walking off, leaving you to skim through the multitude of images you had taken.

A period of time passed because, the next thing you knew, Eren was back by your side, his silky, chocolate-colored tresses pulled back into a bun that rested at the nape of his neck. Small hairs framed his face, only fanning the fuel to his already handsome, boyish looks. You swallowed thickly and offered a smile, rising from your chair to ask, “You heading out?”

“Yeah, but I actually wanted to ask you something, first…” Eyebrow quirked, you watched Eren rock back and forth on his feet, a nervous energy teeming off of him. While the two of you knew nothing about each other outside of first and last names, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was typical behavior. He seemed to self-assured whenever he spoke. Was there something wrong with the photos after all? Before you could ask, Eren’s hand shot out and encircled around your wrist, preventing you from turning away or moving back to your computer screen. “Listen,” he pressed closer, temporarily catching you off guard with how bold he was being, “there’s a party happening later tonight. I really don’t want to go, but my manager said it’d be good for connections and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

“Why?” The question escaped your mouth before you could process what was happening, confusion written across your features. You didn’t pull away from his touch, however, and repeated after a moment of clarity, “You barely know me, Eren. We’re strangers. Shouldn’t you invite one of your friends?”

Eren fell silent for a moment before an uncharacteristic smirk danced across his lips. There was something fierce about the glimmer in his eyes and his body language exuded an amount of confidence he had only displayed the instant his eyes locked with your camera lens earlier that afternoon. He leaned in closer, studying the way your face heated up, before murmuring in a low tone, “I saw the way you were looking at me, earlier.”

Embarrassed, you averted your eyes to the ground. “I’m—I’m sorry! Really, I sometimes get lost in my work and you are beautiful, so I…got swept away. It was unprofessional and I swear it won’t happen again, if we happen to work together.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” Eren chuckled, the sound so dizzying that you felt yourself drawn to it—to him—like a moth circling a flame. This was a dangerous game you two were playing and you weren’t sure what kind of out come Eren was looking for. Rather, he released your hand and stepped back, the intensity gone and replaced with a softer, kinder smile. “I liked your photos,” he simply stated, his hand resting against his hip as he continued to stare at you. “And you liked what you were able to get out of me. I just thought it’d be a good opportunity to each to know one another.”

“Professionally?”

“Both,” he easily quipped with a shrug of his shoulders.

You ran a hand through your hair, teeth catching your inner cheek. “I don’t know.”

“How about this.” Eren reached for the sharp on your desk and ripped the cap off with his teeth, balancing the piece of plastic between his two lips. Before you could protest, he grabbed your hand again and began to write numbers into your palm, a string of digits staring back up at you. “When you decide what you want to do, you can text me. Even if you don’t want to go with me, specifically, it’d be a good idea to make connections. You said yourself that you’re new to the industry.”

You had said that, didn’t you? Eren’s number stared up at you, silently replaying your words from earlier like a broken record until a heavy, shaky sigh pulled from your lips. You didn’t know what his intentions were, but you figured that you could worry about that, later. Even if you couldn’t decipher Eren’s true nature, the prospect of getting your name out to more people in the industry was too tempting to ignore. “But what do I wear?” you asked weakly, watching as Eren’s features lit up like a light.

“It’s cocktail, but whatever you have should be fine. I really don’t care about what other people are wearing, either way.”

You couldn’t help but laugh genuinely at this, pointing out with amusement dripping from your tone, “Aren’t you a fashion model? Shouldn’t you care about stuff like that?”

Eren scoffed, lips twisted into a smile. “Nah. That kind of stuff is stupid.”

“But then why…?” You stopped, shook your head, and moved to the desk where your cellphone rested. Holding it up, you tilted your head to the side. “So, I’ll text you? I’ll need an address, you know.”

Eren’s name was being called from across the building—probably whoever he brought with him, you noted—but his eyes still lingered on you even as he began to step away. “It’s for seven-thirty. See you!”

You watched as he jogged away until he was completely out of sight, your heart hammering against your ribs repeatedly. You weren’t sure what the hell had just transpired, but the area where his fingers brushed your skin tingled pleasantly as an aftershock effect.

You were way, way in over your head.

#eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren scenarios #eren jaeger imagines #eren imagines #snk imagines #aot imagines #mod elle #idk what else to tag this as #i hope you guys enjoy #srry for all the eren content later #but i warned y'all that i was going to be a lil self indulgent and here it is lol

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emersonfreepress · 3 years

Note

What would the ro's be like in a zombie au?

whyyyyy anon whyyy. I'm actually gonna write this in like.. slightly different terms, you'll see. any time I even briefly think of a zombie au I'm just like

I WANNA WRITE IT SO BADDD

i don't even allow myself to entertain it for very long because getting into that would be the worst thing ever for my productivity with the alpha omg 😂😂 so I'll put like the ideas that pop into my head for writing a zombie au, to work some of that creative frustration out 😆

so in this very general, absolutely noncommittal idea of mine, the main cast are older and the setting is in and around a civilian settlement led by the Emersons.

and as a refresher, i like my zombie aus to have fast zombies and fast infections ^ ^ 28 Days Later/Train to Busan style babyyyy, we the Sprinting Dead up in this bitch 😆

= = =

Gabe is, predictably, looking for what's left of his family. Following rumors of safe havens and bunkers and such. Starts the story as someone who tries to be diplomatic, if not outright pacifist, but as times get tougher and resources dwindle, he'd become one of the most cutthroat motherfuckers in the wasteland. Low-key though, low-key. People won't trust you if they know you’re capable of throwing them to a horde for strategic reasons. Like if Rick turned into Shane (for those of us familiar with early Walking Dead--idk did that happen eventually? i gave up before we even met Negan lol). The end justifies the means :) Damn, I can legit see Gabe going full evil in a zombie au omg 😂😂 i want to write it so fucking bad

Preferred weapon for zed encounters: rifle

Preferred weapon for human encounters: handgun

Faith in humanity: fucking zero

Zombie kill count: plenty; the type to kill every zombie he has spare ammo and time for

Human kill policy: When it benefits him or the people he’s looking after

Survival rating: B+; he can make it out of some pretty dire situations through sheer will to live and ruthlessness

- - -

Kile has arrived--clearly, this is the timeline they belong in. They start their journey with Gabe (and their doggo) and stick to him like glue, even reluctantly so when Gabe eventually has them join the settlement. This can only go one way, though: Kile's just too much of a wildcard for the group and hates being told what to do. (Especially now that society has fallen, wtf) They'd make their exit alone and unannounced aside from a brief head’s up to Gabe. It's slightly bittersweet, but also? They get to loot and hunt and sneak around and kill fucking zombies, all by themself. Kile is a loner, a hiker, and a hunter to begin with so they do beyond fine on their own. However, once the inevitable violent human threat comes for the settlement, Gabe is sent out to convince Kile to come out of isolation, just this once please, to be the camp’s super soldier help defend the camp.

Zed weapon: p much anything they can get their hands on, ranged or melee, blunt or sharp, w/e; improvised weapons

Human weapon: hunting knife

Faith in humanity: never had any to begin with

Zombie kill count: lol infinite?? any zed they come across is double-dead if they have the time for it

Human kill policy: at Gabe’s direction or when provoked enough/threatened

Survival rating: A-; they trust no one, live in isolation, and prioritize survival above all else. only reason it’s not higher is they would risk their life for Gabe or their furbaby and also... their own Rambo-esque antics def attracts the occasional horde lmao

- - -

Jack... this poor boy, he doesn't deserve a zombie au 😂 He's one of those people that first believes zombies are just sick people, too squeamish to keep up with TV news coverage at the onset and too upset to consider anything else. He'd hunker down at home, staying holed up even while his neighbors evacuated, and probably be discovered while the main group is looting the same place as him. When people try to tell him the real state of the world, he'd be in denial until he absolutely couldn't be anymore. idk, probably after Kile shooting a bunch of non-lethal holes thru a zombie to make a point (attracting more in the process lol).

He’d almost immediately join the medical team at the settlement and as word spreads about how easy he is to talk to, he quickly becomes the literal on-site therapist. It's a role he embraces but... idk if it's an emotional burden he can bear. He's very emotionally resilient! But he ain't a professional lol imagine a whole settlement of traumatized zombie survivors seeking you out for counseling, yikes. He also can't say no to a person in need, so instead he quietly spirals into a very private depression while continuing to help others!!

Zed weapon: Oh gosh, do I really have to?

Human weapon: ...Kindness?

Faith in humanity: Unrealistically high

Zombie kill count: Single digit

Human kill policy: Not ever, unless completely unavoidable and to defend the defenseless

Survival rating: C...? idk, that feels generous. D+. To be protected at all costs!!

- - -

Jessie also had the initial reaction of hoping zombies could be saved, but she woke up from that dream swiftly. The science-minded person that she is, esp with her interest in biology, leaves her determined to find anybody who's got the intellect, expertise, and resources to start doing actual work toward a treatment, cure, vaccine—anything. Nothing would get her to finally unabashedly embrace her love of science (and innate leadership skills!!) faster than a zombie apocalypse! In fact, it’s thanks to her that the Emerson settlement’s got a small but growing team of scientists doing as much research as humanly possible to best educate the others on the outbreak and zombie behavior. Def no zombie experimentation going on though lol. ...Not yet, at least.

Zed weapon: rifle

Human weapon: rifle

Faith in humanity: High! We’ll find a solution! Don’t give up hope!

Zombie kill count: Double digits, but less than 30

Human kill policy: Only in unavoidable self-defense or defense of others

Survival rating: B! She has experience with ranged weapons, farming and gardening skills, first aid, camping experience, and a can-do attitude with a healthy dose of realism!

- - -

Rain remains cargo as I said in the last post about this 😆 They'd be very good for keeping clothes repaired and making useful modifications in the settlement, but their life up to this point has been very sheltered and privileged. We're talking somebody with a chauffeur and a personal chef before the outbreak! They would contribute to quality of life and homemaking efforts more than anything—an overlooked aspect of these scenarios tbh! After as many months of dragging their feet as possible and being nigh impossible to track down when you need them, they eventually become involved in meal planning and even help out with medical stuff if they're asked.

Zed weapon: how do you reload this thing again?

Human weapon: switchblade or other concealable sharp-pointy

Faith in humanity: Very low

Zombie kill count: 0! Can you believe it!

Human kill policy: Well if it’s you or me, of course I’m choosing me.

Survival rating: C. Being so tiny helps them find good hiding spots and their self-preservation is high enough to keep them from unnecessary risk-taking. Plus they're very stealthy! Self-defense is a major issue though, so hiding is always their best option.

- - -

Rupan/Rohan scouts for and leads scavenging missions and is Curt's right hand on the recruitment team. The two of them together are the perfect combo of diplomacy, debate, and deception--although R is more honorable about the last one and will only deceive for strategic reasons. When they aren’t looting and recruiting, they’re doing peacekeeping inside the settlement. Most social disputes end up getting brought to them for mediation and they’re pretty dang good at making and enforcing calls. One day they’ll wake up to realize they’ve basically become a sheriff and feel the need to puke their guts up and do something, anything, to reassure themself they’re still punk 😂

Zed weapon: SMG

Human weapon: shotgun

Faith in humanity: Believes in fundamental goodness but knows better than to trust first impressions

Zombie kill count: decent, more than 40; you won’t catch them having a field day tho, they’re trying to gtfo of most zed situations

Human kill policy: Violent threats have to be taken out. And they aren’t, at all, immune to a revenge rampage either...

Survival rating: B-. Can handle themself both with humans and zeds but is vulnerable to hostage situations and truly difficult sentimental/interpersonal decisions!

- - -

Vivian/Vincent manages inventory and stock and they run it so efficiently it’s scary! They're the perfect pick: a hawk-eyed tyrant and tattletale 😂 Despite constantly butting heads with just about everyone on every imaginable thing, they quickly become an important part of the inner circle of decision-makers for the settlement at large. Terrible at stealth, jumpy, and squeamish at the sight of blood and gore, they literally never go on missions unless they're 100% needed for their expertise on a supply run. (They would deny all of these shortcomings are that big a problem, meanwhile R is definitely acting as their bodyguard lol.) When they do tag along, they're prone to becoming the damsel in distress. Seriously, it happens near every fucking time. It's like they just attract only the most improbable and perilous zombie attacks and hostage situations 😆

Zed weapon: shotgun

Human weapon: handgun

Faith in humanity: Medium; seeing people work together at the settlement helps restore it a bit

Zombie kill count: Double digits, under 25

Human kill policy: Violent threats have to be taken out. Well, no, not by me! Get one of the ruffians to do it!

Survival rating: C-. They’d be higher if they weren’t such natural zombie bait.

- - -

Heidi is running the settlement, well-organized to the degree of actually managing to bring bureaucracy to a post-zombie apocalypse settlement 😂 People are free to come and go, but getting in if you don't live there requires trading something of value (fuel, med supplies, food, etc), temporary surrender and registry of firearms and explosives, and you gotta GTFO at the time and date specified upon entry! You can stay long-term if you contribute to the community in a tangible way—and each person admitted is approved by Heidi personally. Yes, every individual. No, she has no free time. And she is not known to be lenient with rule breakers—you want rule bending, you’ll have to go to Curt for that. People kind of hate her, but it can't be denied that she runs a tight ship. She kind of throws herself into the work to avoid the harsher reality at large and hasn't left the settlement in a long time. She's out of touch with how bad things have gotten in the wastes, but she knows better than to take reports at anything less than face value--even when she's skeptical.

Zed weapon: rifle

Human weapon: handgun; dagger

Faith in humanity: Medium. It fluctuates, honestly

Zombie kill count: Double digits, less than 20

Human kill policy: Violent threats must be taken out if they can’t be reasoned with. Spare those who surrender, eradicate those who don't, keep an eye on the newbies. Not tryin’ to nurse any vendettas around here lol

Survival rating: B. She's good with a firearm, masterful at persuasion, and savvy enough to calculate risks appropriately. Also far tougher than her prim exterior and demeanor suggests!

- - -

Curt leads the recruitment and reconnaissance teams! When a new person or group shows up in the area, Curt's the one who stalks watches them, decides if they're worth approaching, and if they should be approached with an invitation, a simple acknowledgment/announcement of their presence, or an outright armed warning to leave the area. He also keeps tabs on morale and general confidence inside the settlement, alongside R. When he isn’t leading those efforts, though, he’s flirting with settlers and squirreling his way out of manual labor and other chores. He’s also secretly growing weed at his place--don’t tell Heidi or Vi ‘cause they’ll wanna yell at him and ration it UGH.

Zed weapon: SMG, explosives

Human weapon: handgun, dagger

Faith in humanity: Pft, sorry, what now?

Zombie kill count: ...way more than you’d expect

Human kill policy: I don’t start confrontations, but I sure as fuck end them.

Survival rating: A! He’s good at playing hapless idiot when it suits him to be underestimated, good with firearms, and capable of being ruthless and decisive in life or death situations! Plus he has no qualms about ditching the settlement if he decides it’s not working out for him. Just don’t tell Heidi lol

#the rest are under the cuuuut #had to stop myself from writing too much SEVERAL times #love me a zombie apocalypse #lovely anon #answered #ROs #whoops got carried away lol #spent most of my work day finally finishing this ask because VIVA PROCRASTINATION #someone help ._.#phew #feels good to finally get it out of my system tho #now I can promptly never ever write it 😂#AUs #fave #scenarios

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