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jaysgirlx · 2 years ago

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Can you do a Jason Todd x reader where the reader doesn’t think she has a chance with Jason because “he’s a 10” and the reader has low self esteem

❝ 𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐀 𝟏𝟎 ❞

❥ pairing: jason todd x reader

❥ summary: jason has always call you names like pretty, gorgeous and beautiful and you could never fathom he ever meant them.

❥ warnings: insecurities, anxiety, crying & comfort.

❥ wc: 2.1k

You sat on the roof of Wayne Manor as the rain poured down quickly. The roof was quite slippery at this point so you didn't mind staying up there a little while longer. It was just water right? You looked down from the roof, noticing Jason Todd also in the rain looking up at you with that dumb cheesy grin that never failed to make you smile.

Is he…looking at me?

He waved and for a brief movement, he seems as if he was thinking before you watched him attempt to try and climb the building while it rained. His looks definitely made up for his lack of brain cells. After many, many failed attempts Jason had actually managed to make it up there and sit down next to you. He could tell you were holding in a laugh but only smiled at you.

"Hey beautiful"

Your heart always fluttered at his compliments especially since you knew that you wouldn't ever hear them from anyone else.

"Hey Jason"

"Why are you up here in the rain? You could get hurt y'know"

You watched him relax and lay down a bit as the water washed through his dark black locs. You were too focused on his hair to even remember his question. Without asking you threaded your hand through his curls, at first it had startled him but it only took you seconds before you relaxed him by massaging his head gently. You'd never noticed how curly his hair was until now, probably because you'd never seen his hair yet. It wasn't fair that you had been deprived of such a sight for this long.

It wasn't long til it had started to settle into your mind that he liked to call you pretty, beautiful, cute and etc. You never corrected him because why would you, someone as hot as him gave you daily compliments that you didn't even deserve and it was all on his own accord. But that made you wonder, why would he do this. This Jason we're talking about. Jason that bitches about patroling with Dick. Jason that teases Tim about his boyfriend. Jason that somehow managed to trick Daimen into watching Gossip Girl. Why would he call you pretty?

"Jay?"

"Hmmm…yes pretty?"

Another flutter? Jeez, calm down.

"Ummm, why do compliment me so much?"

"Cause you probably don't hear it enough"

To you his words translated as, "No one probably calls you pretty" and it wasn't wrong. You never had anyone actually tell you they thought you were beautiful or stunning. While your mind wandered you began to chew on your bottom lip, thinking about all of your insecurities. Your weight, lack of confidence, feminism, looks and there was so much more, and day and night they ate at you, made you feel so inferior, so weak, almost as if you meant nothing.

Jason sits up causing you to quickly retrieve your hand from his locks. The rain had slowed and it was probably safe to get down. You could tell because it didn't take Jason much to get to the ground. He looked up at you, his cheeks tinted a pink hue from what you assumed was the rain.

"You coming?"

"Not yet, I'll see you at dinner, Jason"

Jason's mouth opened and closed multiple times, as if there were words he wanted to say but just couldn't form. After a while, he nodded and walked into, Leave you alone outside once again with your pathetic thoughts.

I'd never have a chance with a guy like him…

—

"Get off my case Grayson"

"I'm just trying to understand why you've been avoiding him lately"

"Can't we just enjoy our weekly lunches in silence?"

"I just want to help you y/n I swear"

You looked at Dick Grayson for a moment before taking a small bite of your sandwich. If you told him he'd get off your back and it's not like he'd tell Jason right? Once your voice found the words, you began "To me Jason is like a 10 and I'm…" your voice cracked slightly and you stopped talking instantly. You knew that if you had continued, you'd spill out all your dumb insecurities all those things that made you so pathetic.

"You're what y/n?"

"I'm like a 2/10 on a good day"

Is my self-esteem really this low?

The air between the two of you was deathly silent. You watched Dick's fists clench but quickly relaxed as his gaze met yours.

"Who told you that y/n? I want specific names. Did Jason say that to you? Tell me because if he did I will kick his ass if necessary-"

"Grayson, no one said anything. No one had to because I already know it and Jason probably already thinks it, he compliment me because he knows no one else will"

For a while you just looked at the table, you were sure that by now you were crying because of your blurred vision. You couldn't face Dick like this, you were a ticking time bomb waiting to explode and you didn't want him to hear you. So you left. You ran out of that cafe and got yourself out of there, right after grabbing your phone of course. Dick didn't need to hear all the things you hated about yourself and all the things that made you doubt everything aspect of your being.

Why am I like this?

Once you were out of there, you decided to go back to your apartment. Though you lived at Wayne Manor, you had your apartment in case you needed some private time or just somewhere to lay low. You decided it would be best to walk, so you could clear your mind a bit.

You wiped away your cold tears and tried to keep on a happy face or avoid drawing any unnecessary attention to yourself especially because of the scene you had probably caused at that cafe. This whole thing felt so dumb in your head, why did you have to avoid Jason. It was not like he was hurting you, if anything his compliments were one of the highlights of your days but maybe that was a good reason to avoid him. There was no point getting attached to someone who was definitely of your league.

You pushed those negative thoughts out of your head and decided before heading to your apartment, you'd do some shopping and maybe even buy yourself some food. Eagerly, you went to the nearest clothing store in the neighborhood and decided to splurge a bit on a couple new clothes then decided to treat yourself to some seafood as takeout. Little things like these were the only things sometimes that could make you feel loved.

When you had finally arrived at your place you were relieved. No one was there plus none of your neighbors were around so you could rest and relax in-

"hey there y/n"

You jumped at the dangerously familiar voice. Jason? Why was he here? In your apartment? You took a couple steps back, getting ready to make a run for it. You couldn't talk to him, not yet, and especially not after today's events. You looked up at him studying his body, he was dressed in his gear except his helmet was nowhere to be found and he had on a different shirt.

"Please don't run away, y/n," Jason said taking a step towards you. The two of you locked eyes for what seemed forever before Jason started to close the distance between the two of you and you let him. So many things raced through your head, you thought about pushing him away, running away again, or maybe just hearing him out. The thought of him being this close to you was a dream come true under the right circumstances but this wasn't the time to be thinking like this especially when you knew he didn't see you the way you saw him.

"Dick told me a bit about what happened earlier at the cafe, he said it would be best if I came to check on you," he said looking down at you. By now your back was pressed against the door and you'd dropped all your bags. You needed to get him out of here.

"Jason I'm fine, you can go"

You never would've thought Jason cared this much for you. So much that he broke into your apartment just to see you. But you were thinking of this all wrong, Jason was a nice guy who probably just wanted to clear things up that's all. There was nothing more to this and you had to convince him just as you convinced yourself that the two of you would never happen.

"Did you know I hate the rain?" he said quietly picking up your dropped bags. He grabbed the clothes and gently put the food in your hands. There was a voice in your head warning you to not drag this out any longer but you didn't want to listen this time. "But when I saw you on the roof the other day, suddenly I could tolerate it"

"So many bad things happened on rainy days but seeing you… that was best thing"

Jason grinned at you as he grabbed your bags filled with new items and clothes and placed them on your kitchen counter. He then motioned for you to come to sit with him on your couch once he was done. By then any sense of self-respect had gone out of the window now. Without much hesitation, you followed him which earned you a soft chuckle from him that sparked something in your chest.

"Y/n I think I gave you the wrong answer the other day"

He can't say anything worse than last time if I avoid it.

"For what?" A beat passed, and you looked up at Jason and he was… nervous? he was sweating and could barely make eye contact with you. He clearly had trouble finding his words and that was partially your fault because you knew exactly what question he was talking about and you could even admit it yourself. It was a stupid question that you had asked in the heat of the moment and you wished you could both forget about it and move on but that's not how things work. Though you regretted asking, you still listened to what he had to say.

"When you asked about why I compliment you so much. What I meant to say is that when I find a girl undeniably beautiful all I can ever do is remind her of it every fucking day"

There had never been a time that your heart had raced this fast until now. Jason took your hand and held it, softly as if you were going to break. The small space that you put between you on the couch was now gone as Jsson pulled you closer to him.t

"You are not a 2/10 sweetheart, you are so much more than that and I will do whatever it takes to make you see that," he said flashing you one of those cheeky grins you loved so much. If your face hadn't been red before, it was sure to be red now. It was at this moment that you knew he meant it. That Jason did not pity you and in fact thought that you were one of the most attractive girls he had ever seen.

Jason had wanted you to know for a while, he thought you did at first but after hearing from dick what you thought of yourself, he found himself willing to do anything for you to understand how you felt about you. How Jason Todd saw you and now you had no doubt now in the way Jason saw you.

"Jason you don't know how much that means for you to say that and how much I needed to hear that," you said as if you were out of breath even though you had only said a couple words. because this was literally breathtaking. "I really really like you Jay"

Jason looked at you before grabbing you into what was a mesh of a hug and a tight squeeze and saying, "Please don't say anything else just lemme hold you" he said quietly as he held your body close to his. squeezing his big arms around your waist and pulling you even closer together as if you'd run away if he dared to let go.

"Because I really like you too pretty girl"

Always remember that you can be loved guys<3

#✩ kleo's kollection ✩#✩ kleo's mailbox ✩#divider by saradika #jason todd #jason peter todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd is red hood #red hood #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dick grayson cameo #dick grayson

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arislary · 2 months ago

Text

Brewing Chemistry (2/5) Han Jisung x (f) reader

Synopsis: Reader and Jisung are excitedly preparing for their long-awaited date. Both of them are eagerly getting ready, but a series of unfortunate events begin to unfold. Reader, despite her excitement, is dealing with a particularly rough day—facing work stress, and a series of minor mishaps that has shaken her confidence. She begins to feel insecure about how she looks, wondering if Jisung will still find her attractive or if her bad mood will ruin the night. She tries to push these feelings aside, but they linger, causing anxiety about whether she'll end up actually going on the date.

Pairing: Han Jisung x (f) reader

Genre: fluff, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, coffee-shop au, non-idol au, meet-cute au

Warning: fluff, smut, unprotected smut (wrap tf up!), slight dom/sub, slight Dom Jisung, slight Sub reader, cute nicknames, spit kink, makeouts, dry-humping, i lied about it being a slow-burn, moving too fast?, insecurity, slight body-image issues from reader, pants don't fit, crying, whiny Jisung, whiny reader, reader is forever clenching.

WC: 2.2k

AN: this could totally act as stand alone drabble, but I enjoyed writing about coffee shop Jisung x reader way too much. If you want to see more too, let me know please and I'll try to set up a taglist. Be patient with me as I do not have a schedule out for chapters yet! UNEDITED

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 1 <- Part 2 -> Part 3 -> Part 4 -> Part 5

I wiped my makeup off for what felt like the fifth time and almost started crying. My date with Jisung was in less than 30 minutes and I felt like everything that could have gone wrong that day, had. I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, wearing just my robe and undergarments.

From the spilled coffee on my desk, to the passive aggressive email from my fellow team lead, to my favorite lunch spot unfortunately being closed. By the time I got home, it felt like the universe was laughing at me as my favorite pair of pants felt too tight to be comfortable and even if they did, none of my shirts felt right and I didn’t even want to look at the offending dresses on the floor.

I looked over at my phone and almost pouted. For the better part of the week since meeting last Tuesday, every text exchanged between Jisung and I, I had been able to continue being this self-assured, confident woman, but right now I just wanted to cry and be snuggled in my bed. Conversation with Jisung flowed too easily; the very awkward and cute boy from the coffee shop was replaced with this funny, flirty, charming guy. Still slightly awkward and cute though, but now I didn’t know if I could do this date anymore, it all just felt too much. It was way too early for me to show him any of this, I just didn’t want to do it today. I grabbed it with shaky hands and pulled up our last message thread.

Jisung 🐿️👀🥴: Really looking forward to tnt! Pick u up at 7!

I looked at the time at the corner of my phone. The 6:40 glaring at me. I went back to our thread before pressing on the call button. It barely rang before the soothing sound of Jisung’s voice rang through.

“_______! You know we’re about to see each other in like 5 minutes,” the chuckle he released had your insides twisting and left a large desire to hear it again. “That excited for our date?” That did it. I could feel the ball beginning to form in my throat.

“Jisung…”

“What’s wrong?” My stomach dropped hearing the immediate worry in his voice.

“I, uh- I’m gonna have to reschedule actually on tonight”

“W-why? Is everything okay?” And now it felt like I had been kicked, I grimaced my hand coming up to cover my throat, the lump growing even bigger in my throat. I cleared it.

“Actually-“ I took a deep breath before a small whimper escaped. “I’m so sorry Jisung, I just- I had a horrible day and I feel so awful. Nothing has gone right, fuck-“ the first hiccup escapes before I can’t hold it back anymore. “-And then my coffee spilled, a-and my favorite pen stopped working, a-and fucking Kevin, god he’s such an asshole! It wasn’t even my client!” I gasped out, sucking in air harshly through my nose, eyes starting to feel so swollen. “My clothes don’t fit and my makeup looks awful and now I’m saying all of this to you. God I must sound like such a loser-“

“Okay, hey, no, don’t say that, ______.”

I sniffled and wiped a hand across my eyes.

“It’s true-“

“No, baby, it’s not.”

Baby? It was the first time he’s called me that. Granted we’ve only known each other for a week, but I felt the weight of it all the same. Don’t get me wrong, he was a flirt and made it very clear throughout our conversations to know what his intentions were, but to hear him call me such a name. The intimacy of it left me feeling a tingle in my stomach and had me clenching.

“It’s okay, trust me. It sounds like today was really hard huh?”

I sniffled and sank down to my plush rug. My left hand rubbing at the smooth fabric. It was like with just that sentence, a cooling wave washed over me.

“Yea.”

“Kevin is also such an asshole!” A giggle bursted from my lips, falling to the side, keeping my phone pressed tightly to my face so that I wouldn’t miss anything from his velvety voice. “But most of all, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable on our first date.”

I rubbed a finger under my nose and pouted. God, could he be more perfect, he was just so nice and sweet, no one has ever been that way with me before.

“Baby?”

“Hmmm?” I hummed out to him, feeling myself slipping into that fuzzy feeling.

“C-could I-“ he cleared his throat, “could I maybe come over still? Would you like that?”

I bite my lip, one hand playing with the strap of my robe.

“Please.”

“Thank God, I’m downstairs in the parking lot-“ I sit up up quickly from where I had been laying down, eyes flashing to my bedroom door. “I’ll be up in a second okay?”

I whimpered and nodded my head, before rolling my eyes, he can’t see you.

“Okay- b-but stay on the phone, okay?” Rising to my feet, rushing to put my slippers on to head out to the front door.

“Of course, baby.”

It was less than a minute before there was a gentle knock on my door, but hearing his breathing on the other line helped ease my stress and finally Jisung cooed at me to open the door. I ended the call and rushed to unlock it to meet him. Worried brown eyes met mine before I was suddenly wrapped up in a warm embrace. Jisung’s arms wrapped around the tops of my shoulders, pulling me tightly against his frame.

He was dressed comfortably in a black hoodie and sweats. His wired frames sitting crookedly on his nose. I breathed in his comforting scent, my own arms wrapping around his tiny waist, face burrowing into his chest.

“Hi,” he whispered against my head, his warm breath fanning against my ear and the side of my neck. The shiver that ran through me shook even him and he only pulled me tighter to him.

“Hi.”

He let out a small groan and pulled back to look at my face. His bottom lip tug tightly in between his teeth. There was a faint blush on his face and from where we were pressed against each other, I could feel the rapid speed of his heartbeat.

“And to think I would’ve missed out on this,” his hands curling at the satin fabric of my robe. A blush rose to my cheeks as I realized what I was still dressed in. I let go of his waist, my hands coming up touch the tie still tightly secured. I scurried out of his embrace, calling out to him.

“Give me two seconds!” I popped my head out of my bedroom to peer back at him from down the hall. “Oh! Also please make yourself at home!”

In less than a minute, I rush back out, this time dressed in shorts and a large graphic tee. I found Jisung looking at the collection of albums and books on my shelf. I had to stop for a second and stare. He just looked too good. God, seriously who looks like that!

“Coffee?” He startles, turning around to face me, eyes wide and mouth open. I wince, hands going up in a surrender position. “Sorry, I-“

“Yea, I’d love some,” he sounds breathless and my eyes flash up to meet his. He hasn’t looked away from my legs. I squirm in place before walking over to the kitchen area. I start up the stove top coffee maker, fighting everything in me to chew on a fingernail as his presence enters the kitchen. I could feel him come up behind me before the hesitant touch of his hands on my hips occur.

“Is this okay?” He asks as he pulls me back against his chest, arms wrapping further around me. I nod and lay my hands on top of his covered arms, hands forming fists in his sleeves. His head comes down to snuggle into my neck. “Do you wanna tell me more about your day?”

I pinch at his sleeve, my head falling back on his shoulder as he begins to sway us.

“It was just- it was so tiring. I felt like it was a lot of small things that normally don’t bother me, but…” I trailed off, feeling a lump forming once again in my throat.

“But it was too much today?” I pouted, nodding my head, wanting to turn myself in his arms to bury further into his warmth.

“Yes,” it was cracked whisper that had Jisung turning his head, nose digging into my hair and tightening his arms around me. “Sungie,” I whined out causing him to gasp and grip me even harder.

“Baby,” he rumbled in my ear, turning me around. His forehead rested against mine, nose lightly brushing against mine. “Thank you for being so honest with me today. You didn’t have to, but I’m so glad you were. Thank you for letting me know and be with you today anyways,” he squeezed me to him, his hands feeling needy and desperate on my body. “I can’t tell you how much I was looking forward to today, I really don’t care how we spend it, I just- I want to be with you and honestly being like this with you, I just- ______, I- baby please tell me you feel it too? I’m not alone in this right?” I shook my head already before he could finish his sentence. My hands gently ran up his arms, feeling the muscle that lay hidden underneath the thick fabric, to his shoulders before entwining behind his neck. I brought my face closer to him, lips grazing his.

“No, I- it’s not just you,” he whimpered, his hand now dragging my face close to finally have our lips meet. I pushed myself closer to him as he wasted no time to grabbed at my thighs and lift me up on to my counter. Fuck, would kissing him be like this every time? Jisung’s hand dug into my hip, bringing me flush against him as his other hand found its home nestled in my hair at the base of my neck to move me as he wanted. I could feel the heat pulsating in my core, tingles shooting all throughout my body begging for a release. I panted as his lips left mine, no doubt bruised from the dominating pressure, only to gasp loudly as he began to harshly suck, lick and bite at my neck. I pulled roughly at his hair feeling his hips rut against mine. “Fuck.”

Jisung gave me a harsh bite, mumbling against my neck, “language, princess.”

I moaned loudly, my own hips now thrusting up against him. Jisung hissed, not hiding the hard length in his sweats as he began a sensual roll of his hips to meet mine. I could feel the rough drag of my underwear with each thrust against my clit, the fabric helping to bring me closer to where I wanted to go, but it just wasn’t enough. My hand slid from his hair, nails dragging down his chest, catching lightly at his right nipple through the fabric of his hoodie, causing a deep groan to leave his mouth. My hand continued further down, fingers just beginning to play with the straps of his sweatpants when a sudden loud bubbling noise and water hissing sounded from behind Jisung.

I gasped withdrawing my hand and sitting up straight to push Jisung off so I could turn the stove off. He stilled my movements, grabbing my hands that pressed into his shoulders, and placing a rushed kiss to my knuckles. He quickly turned, reaching over to flick the dial off. Turning back to me, chest heaving. I must have looked like a mirror-image of him as I tried to calm my own rapid beating heart. My lips felt swollen and neck felt exceedingly warm. There was a steady leak trickling out of me and I clenched my legs to stop it, hands gripping at the ends of my shirt.

“So…”

“Coffee right?” He looked at me with a slight smirk, his eyes playful as he came back towards me, pecking my lips. He pulled back to gaze at me. So many emotions rushing through his eyes that it was hard to focus on any of them, but it all left me feeling warm and sharp pings in my lower stomach. I wanted to rub my thighs together, but a part of me also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of just how much he affects me. He leaned his hands on either side of me, his face same level as me. His brown eyes were blown wide as he continued to stare at each detail of my face like he was trying to memorize it. I tilted my head, a content smile coming to rest on my face. Oh yea I could definitely get used to this.

#han jisung x reader #jisung x reader #han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung smut #stray kids fanfic

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ppushable · 30 days ago

Text

276 times i died for you

jean kirschtein x fem!reader / oneshot / wc: 9.0k

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Love. Of course I love him.

(YOU'RE OBSESSED WITH HIM.)

I'm infatuated.

In which my dreams come true. (IN WHICH YOU LIVE IN A FANTASY.) In which I kill myself this many times over. For *him*.

This time around, it will all work out.

IT WILL ALL WORK OUT!

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

ao3 tags:

this has been sitting in my drafts for months because it's edgy but what the hell sure / Reincarnation / Angst / Unrequited Love / Implied/Referenced Abuse / reader is kind of a loser / no y/n / Hurt No Comfort / Reader-Insert / POV First Person / Present Tense / Inner Dialogue / Self-Hatred / Implied/Referenced Suicide / But its chill / Reader Is Crazy / reader is obsessed / you freak / Bad Ending / Cross-Posted on Wattpad / Cross-Posted on Tumblr

hi!

i'm not really sure what culminated in this? maybe i woke up a touch more delusional than usual.

reader has her flaws but don't we all. (killing-yourself-275-times-for-a-fictional-man kind of flaws. also she's a total loser. but i think a lot of you guys can relate.)

you reincarnate, you fail, rinse and repeat. the sections are pretty short. that's pretty much all of it.

also up on ao3 and wattpad

enjoy, as always <3

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

prologue

The clicking of the keyboard. The rhythm of my fingers against the caps, words a constant steady stream from my mind to the glowing document. It comes so easy to me, recording the thoughts and desires that have been running through my mind for so long they’ve eroded a deep cavern through my consciousness. Fancies and yearnings that have since become a fundamental part of me, threaded into the fabric of my being. Same fandom, same character, same love.

“And then I just… understood. How it’s the little moments you hold on to the most.” And then he grins.

“Maybe,” I murmur, swiping my thumbs over his palms, “it’s the other way around.”

He blinks. “Yeah.”

Losing my train of thought, I lean back dangerously in my chair. It’s one of the swivel ones that can go way back, but I’ve fallen over before. I lean back as reality comes rushing in, flushing away the comforting warm waters of fantasy.

Rent’s due next week. Fuck, I have to work today. Did I make a lunch? Well, whatever. Maybe I should call in, haha. When’s the last time I cleaned the floor? Laundry? Should I fix the AC or just buy another one? Need to call the mechanic about that weird noise in the car. And renew my license before it’s too late. I need to wash dishes before I leave. I need to keep track of my income. I need to start thinking about my retirement. I need to I need to I need to—

The computer screen whisks out of view as my stomach lurches from its safe spot — I’m falling, fuck! My body prepares for a landing

that never comes.

Nothing comes.

I can’t hear the buzzes and sighs of background noise I didn’t even register until they’re gone.

I can’t see, I can’t open the eyelids that are supposed to be there, can’t search for the light.

I can’t feel. The breeze against my skin, the tickling of my hair on my face, the weight of a human body.

I can’t breathe, but I have no desire for air, nor pain from the lack of it.

Everything is… still. Paused, stale, bated. Nothing.

Am I dead? I’m dead, aren’t I?

Never would I have expected this. All the jokes and profound thoughts lying in bed, thinking about what lies beyond without fear. Well, I’m fucking fearful now. Everything is over, nobody will know who I am, I’ll never amount to the person my younger self would have imagined (but who am I kidding, I never would have), the shift manager will curse my name when I don’t come in, my computer is still running, the state they will find my body in is nothing short of deplorable. I’ve squandered my chance.

Did I… do what I wanted in life?

Did I? Did I?

No, I never did what I wanted. I only ever did what made me comfortable.

And the realization eats away at me, turns me into a yawning cavern mouth that leads to naught.

I just wasted myself.

OH WELL.

It is what it is, right?

IT IS WHAT IT IS.

At least I was happy when I was writing.

AT LEAST.

I could’ve had it a lot worse.

YOU COULD’VE.

I could…

YEAH?

That voice wasn’t always there. That echo of my internal monologue. Unbearably loud yet inaudible. Identical in nature, so seamlessly me that I haven’t been noticing that it’s not.

I’m not alone.

YOU’RE NOT.

And it’s this that makes me feel as if I should be afraid, if I had the body and capacity to do so.

IT’S HARD TO BE SCARED WHEN YOU’VE NOTHING LEFT TO PROTECT.

What is this, some kind of joke? Am I already going crazy?

NO.

I don’t know where I end and when… that begins.

IT DOESN’T MATTER.

Oh my god.

And then it’s quiet.

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WERE TRULY HAPPY?

Was I? What kind of question is that?

YOU WERE, WEREN’T YOU, WHEN YOU WERE WRITING THOSE STORIES.

I… was happy. Happiness isn’t a constant state of being, it’s— it comes in little moments. I was happy enough.

DO YOU WANT A CHANCE?

… What?

DO YOU WANT TO LIVE IN A FANTASY?

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

1st reincarnation - modern au

I nearly fall over when I’m slapped in to this body, and I nearly collapse again when something bumps into me. But my fall is broken by something soft and hard and solid.

“Woah… there.”

Neon lights, stale and heavy air. Out of reflex I suck in a huge breath. Puke and alcohol and bad breath and sweat and body odour. Silhouetted bodies writhing before me, all around me, in tune to the gaudy noises blaring from all corners of the area that’s supposed to be music.

I’m at a club. I’m alive and in a club.

“You okay?”

And that voice…

I spin on my heel, nearly tripping — since when was having a body so difficult? — and he’s there.

Jean. Jean Kirschtein.

The man I’ve been fantasizing about since the sixth grade, the man I’ve broken keyboards writing for, the man I’ve loved over a thousand lifetimes. It’s him.

I know things about you that you don’t even know about yourself. I’ve fucked you. I’ve killed you. I’ve had your children. I’ve seen you at your very worst and cheered for you at your best. I’ve held you as you breathed your last breath, my name on your tongue, and you’ve done the same for me.

And now you’re here, in this club, with me… drunk out of your fucking mind.

Real. Real. Your eyes, unfocussed, the strands of your hair against the light, your posture. Just as I’ve described, hundreds of times over, except no words can truly begin to explain the entity that is you.

“Why are you staring? Like what you see?”

And that voice.

LET’S DANCE.

I push my palm flat against his broad chest, I’m fucking touching him, and bring the rest of my body closer. And dance.

I was never much of a dancer. I’m still not. But if I let it all get to me, the music, the vibration of the ground of others’ feet, the feeling of Jean against me… I don’t have to worry at all. My body moves without discretion, and the music and noise envelopes me completely.

I notice too late that he’s gone. So I stop. And it doesn’t take long to find his tall frame poking out of the crowd in another part of the club.

He’s bathed in a red light, dazed, but not drunk-dazed. In-love-dazed. And I would know, because I’ve imagined and written that expression so many times before.

Only it was always directed at me, the reader, and not the girl he’s looking at right now. The girl who dances without care, the girl who is more beautiful, stronger, the girl I could never hope to be.

No. This isn’t happening.

Blood in my mouth — I’ve been biting the inside of my cheek. There’s nothing left inside except a sinkhole, one that yawns impossibly wider with every second and threatens to take me over entirely. Breath comes shaky. That’s supposed to be me. That’s supposed to be me! Right?

Right?

She twirls with this unearthly kind of grace and Jean takes her hand midway, leading her through the action, and end off in a close embrace. And it’s like it’s scripted.

They lean in closely for a delicate kiss.

A friend — Connie — approaches.

They break it off nervously.

End script.

I mean, who am I kidding? Of course he would go for her. She’s perfect, and I’m just… the warmup. Someone jostles into me from behind and now there’s nobody to catch me; I land hard on the linoleum, arms numbly blocking my fall. Fuck. Fuck. My hands curl into little fists, collecting grime. What the hell am I doing here? Who the hell do I think I am?

Eager, blissfully unaware feet land on my dress. I need to go. I can’t stay here.

But when I try to stand a sudden swell of bodies comes rushing in and knocks me back down. Well, fuck you then, just let me die here.

A high-pitched, obnoxious laugh reaches my ears. With another quick look-around I heave myself up. Damned if I die here. Before anyone else has the chance to move me I haul myself to the wall and stick to it.

The two of them and Connie are gone now.

I just… my only chance.

Look at me, playing the heartbroken maiden.

Bathrooms… I shuffle along the wall until I find it and slip inside.

Contrary to everything else, it’s brightly lit in blue. The sinks are decently clean and the stalls, for the most part, appear empty. It sounds empty, anyways. The music here is muffled and echoey; even the smallest movement seems to be exemplified by the tiled walls.

I enter the closest one and lock the door, sitting on the seat even though a thousand people’s asses have touched it. Whatever.

When I saw you here before…

What am I doing here.

Couldn’t look you in the eye…

Who the hell plays this song at a club?

You looked like—

The door bangs open; feet barge in. A feminine gag, a stall door smacking against the wall. More gags, vomit slapping the toilet water, an acrid stench.

“You’re okay! You got this…”

That’s a guy’s voice. How sweet, he came to the bathroom to help her out. Maybe I should pop out of here and yell at him. Haha.

Gently, so as not to make noise, I press my palm flat against the door.

They’re probably taking a cab or something. Leaning against each other in the backseat while Connie gabbles on about whatever to the driver. I smile for about a second before I have to clamp my lips between my teeth again.

I’m not their friend. I’m an imposter. (Among us!) I’m the one that fantasizes in the dark of their companionship. Writing all the time. I’m… well, frankly, I’m a creep.

And I’m a weirdo…

Holy fuck.

YOU GIVING UP?

No.

AND HOW DO YOU SUPPOSE YOU FIND THEM?

Go away. How did this happen?

YOU’RE THINKING IN LOOPS.

It’s not a big deal.

RIGHT.

Shut up. It’s not a big deal, I can just come back here. Maybe it’s a slowburn.

OR MAYBE SHE’S ENDGAME.

DID YOU SEE THE WAY HE LOOKED AT HER?

JUST LIKE HE’S SUPPOSED TO LOOK AT YOU.

IF YOU THINK THAT’S PLATONIC YOU’RE KIDDING YOURSELF.

Let me think. Just let me—

The stall door suddenly jolts as if hit from the outside; my hand comes flying off.

What—

“OPEN IT.”

What?

“OPEN IT.”

The voice in my head. That’s the voice in my head, someone’s talking with it—

“OPEN. IT.”

I stare at the latch.

“YES, THERE, RIGHT THERE.”

Fuck. Fuck, this is the moment Jean swoops in and saves me—

“OPEN THE DOOR. NOBODY IS HERE TO SAVE YOU.”

The puking couple—

“I WON’T ASK AGAIN.”

I try to swallow. Open. I raise my hand — when did my fingers start trembling? — and unlatch the door.

Cli-cli-click.

It swings open to… a brunette with puke dribbling down her chin.

…!!?

Oh my fucking god.

What the hell is this?

??!

“STAND UP.”

I do, leaning heavily against the wall.

“COME.”

We walk to the sink. She pulls something out of her purse. A needle.

My voice is but a tremble. “What?”

“IF YOU WANT ANOTHER CHANCE, YOU HAVE TO DIE.” She mimics inserting the needle into her arm. “THIS IS ONE WAY.“

“I can’t do that. I don’t do that.”

She turns fully to meet my eye but I drop my gaze. “IF YOU INSIST.”

“Wait, no—”

On the marbled counter is a pocket knife.

What if I don’t want to die?

“WOULD YOU RATHER LIVE LIKE THIS? IN THE SHADOWS, WATCHING ANOTHER LIVE YOUR DIRTY LITTLE FANTASY?”

THINK ABOUT IT. HAVE YOU TRULY DONE ANYTHING WITH YOUR LIFE EXCEPT PRETEND?

Stop.

“TAKE THE BLADE.”

When I look into the mirror, she’s not there.

Death by blood loss.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

92nd reincarnation - canon

Breathe. Breathing in. The human scent.

Temptress is the smell, reeking over the wall, always unreachable.

But now… wall is now open now… and the smell… the smell. The presence of man.

Cannot control myself

cannot.

GOD, YOU’RE A REAL BEAST.

Others push and shove. Claustrophobic between… buildings. Buildings crumbling on my shoulders.

The humans try. They buzz around like birds. But more of them are crushed into red pulp under my feet. More of them scooped up and put into my mouth. More, more, more. Warm and writhing and in my mouth, crack open.

It’s right. It’s the right thing. I do it again and again. The only right thing.

Another bird-human, buzzing up to my face. Too slow, I cannot grab it. Too fast, it soars closer.

Prick! Eye! It pricked my eye! But I close it, and it’s stuck. The prick is stuck in my eye.

I take it and put it in my mouth. Crack open.

More bird-humans now. Fast bird-humans. Screeching. Pricking.

DID YOU SERIOUSLY JUST EAT HIM? I HOPE YOU CHEWED.

Too fast. Too fast!

“Bastard! You’ll pay!”

Bird-human… who…

“You’ll fucking pay!”

Bird… Jean? Human? On my back. Crack. Bird—

Jean?

Chest feels prick but no bird-humans are in it. Mouth doesn’t crack. Mouth makes noise. Mouth says…

“…Jean.”

Prick!

“I’m sorry.”

Death by spinal cord injury.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

165th reincarnation - canon

Nobody told me the steam would make noise.

It doesn’t come in puffs, but continuous streams, each with the force of a newly-awakened geyser, raw with festering rage.

His voice is nearly inaudible over the hiss that just about renders me deaf, just a strained whisper.

“Here! Over here!”

Out of complete reflex I bring my hands to point at the behemoth bone structure that is Eren and shoot. I don’t hear the ODM but feel its mechanic workings against my lower back, the painful tightening of the straps against my skin, the pressure in my head and gut as I’m jerked forward. The horror and chaos of the world shooting past.

I’m coming…

Someone screams again and I’m yanked forward, limbs and neck snapping back uselessly, painfully, the back of my head hitting my spine. Pulled like a yo-yo. Straps digging into skin. Everything turns into a whirl of heat and steam and sky and blackness. Everything mixing together as my brain and eyes, most trusted, can’t comprehend what’s going on around me. Can’t tell up from down. The breaths I try to take in are sucked out before I get a chance to replenish my increasingly burning lungs. It’s too tight. It’s too fast. I can’t— I can’t move.

The cord… a bone titan grabbed my cord…

Fuck,

fuck,

I’m getting closer,

it hurts,

I’m getting closer!

Fuck!

!!???!!!

The impact, as much as I might try, I can’t brace for the impact. With a crack! I hit the bone chest-first, and in that little moment before the pain inevitably comes I know it’s all… punched in and wrong inside and bad bad bad.

The titan doesn’t stop dragging when everything blooms into fresh agony, it hurts, it hurts, it’s all wrong inside it hurts it’s wrong I’m hurting someone please help me please fuck I’m hurt someone get me help help help

And then it all… goes still. And the pain comes back in a fresh new wave. Breaths come now, ragged and holey and painful, I don’t want to look at myself, my grimed hands scratching at the bone I’ve landed on, searching for purchase so I don’t fall off. Which, frankly, would be a better fate. I’ll let go and start again. Yeah. Yeah…

It hurts. If I could scream, I would.

“Hey!”

Fuck, not now. I swear my nails are splitting. Is my chest… wet? Not now…

But he appears anyways, despite it all, always despite it all, in the familiar garb of canon and that brushed-aside hair that’s screwed over to hell and back, eyes wild and pupils dilated, mouth wired in an unreal smile. Painful to look at. Falling to his knees at my side.

“Hey, look at me, okay? You’re gonna be okay, alright? Alright? Hey!”

The way he speaks, so desperately. The way he looks around for help. The way he sees none, because how could there be any, so he focusses back on me.

Helpless.

Absolutely helpless.

“Hey…”

There’s a different peal to his voice now.

“Look at me, would you?”

But I am…

“H— hey. Come on. You— you’re strong, huh?”

Oh, Jean.

My breaths come a lot shallower than before and my muscles burn with the effort. Jean notices, it seems, from the way he cranes in close, blotting out the steam-scattered light. “Don’t…”

What happened to the proud, selfish boy who was hellbent on joining the MPs? The one who laughed at others’ misfortunes and bragged about his feats, the one who started more fights than he could finish. The man in front of me now is crestfallen; everything is falling apart, and here he is trying to comfort even a small part of it. Holding back a tsunami with his trembling, bloody hands.

Thanks, Isayama…

When I try to inhale deeper, I only inhale faster. Nevertheless I open my mouth like I have so many times before, croak out the words because it’s natural.

“I love you.”

And for a moment, just a fleeting moment, he’s confused.

Confused. Not relieved, or heartbroken. Completely, utterly, childishly confused. He smiles, though his expression is just about splitting in half.

And that’s how I know.

“I— I love you too.”

LIAR.

Death by internal bleeding, blood loss.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

274th reincarnation - past

June 16, 1921 2:04 PM

“Can you believe it’s been three years since the war ended?”

I look over at Sasha from under my veil. “I really can’t.”

“And now you’re getting married.” She giggles like a schoolgirl behind the basket of flowers in her gloved hands. “Oh! The music’s starting!”

The knells of the organ behind the curtains in front of us rip through me like a wave. It’s happening. It’s finally happening.

I’m getting married to Jean Kirschtein.

It was a rough ride. Getting with the times, learning how to housewife, staying up late reading and re-reading the odd letters sent home from my… friends. Yes, they are truly my friends.

I’ve been living here for over seven years.

I haven’t heard that… voice in over seven years.

I’ve been alive for over seven years.

Perhaps the toughest part was the war. Watching Jean and Connie and Eren and Armin and everyone else disappear, never knowing if they would come back.

Most did. The expected ones.

At least Sasha is still alive.

But we still have to get through the depression, not to mention the second war. Provided this is… a strictly historical account.

But enough of that.

Erwin offers his remaining arm to me and I take it. Another technicality.

Without restrain, I grin.

Today will be the best day of my life.

July 30, 1921 7:43 PM

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

My breaths come in small, doglike pants as he towers over me, silhouetted by the socket light behind him, still swinging from when he clipped it with his fist.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, okay?” He’s trying to be quiet, trying to suppress the screams he had let but a few seconds ago. “I just— you know how I get angry, right?”

Breathing but never getting any air.

“Fuck, would you look at me?!”

July 31, 1921 10:08 AM

“Don’t mean to pry, but you look like hell. What’s gotten into you?”

I look up from the tea I’ve been stirring for the last… I don’t know. Children scream in the background and the sun beats relentlessly on the concrete around us. “Just a little tired is all, Connie. I haven’t had a great sleep lately.” Not a complete lie.

He smacks his lips. “You were doing that research stuff again, huh?”

“Research stuff?” Sasha pipes, looking up from her eggs.

“Yeah, this little cheese—” he points at me with his spoon— “is hellbent on buying a whole farm. Isn’t that something?”

One of many, Connie.

“Can’t say I blame her.” Putting another scoop of eggs into her mouth, Sasha raises her eyebrows haughtily. “Your own unlimited supply of food? Fancy that.”

“Of course you would agree with her,” Connie mutters.

“Nothing wrong with having a little— a little cush to fall back on,” I smile.

“Don’t be a bunny. Nowadays, we’re all rich men.”

“And women!”

For now. Provided this is a strictly historical account, it won’t be long until the economy’s going to crumple in on itself. I’m just making preparations, because I’ll be damned if any of you die during the depression.

I just don’t know what to do about the second world war. The tea leaves swirl with my spoon. And Jean…

“By the way, where’s your other half?” The buzzed man blurts, jolting me from my unborn stupor. “Don’t suppose you came out here all the way on your own?”

“I took a cab— a boiler with Reiner.” I smile again, heart fluttering. “Jean’s out with his father today.” Again.

“Father, eh,” he muses. “Never heard much of the guy. What’s he like?”

Connie’s eyes are imploring and innocent— well, as innocent as they can be for a war veteran.

Jean’s father. There’s a reason he wasn’t around in the canon.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say breezily. “Only what little I hear from Jean. You know. Men.” The last statement is mostly directed at Sasha but she’s looking at Connie. He doesn’t respond right away.

“Well.” He puts his hands on the table. “This ol’ grifter could stretch his legs. What’dya say we take a little walk by the water?”

June 16, 1924 3:06 PM

Armin had bought me a carry-on bag for my birthday. It’s heavy and leather, perfect for carrying paperwork. Something that belongs in an antique shop. It’s funny. Even after ten years of living in the past, I still find it hard to call it my present.

Also, it’s our third anniversary. That is, of Jean and my wedding. Three years… together. I purse my lips and focus on the road.

Prep, prep, prep. That’s been my entire life these past few years. Of course, given the day and age, it hasn’t been easy. But it’s possible, and that’s what matters. What’s become of my hard work? I run my thumb along the waxed leather of my bag. Gardens, seeds, non-perishables, connections with experienced farmers… Really, everything I think I need for self-sufficiency. But who even knows. If it all ends up going south…

Truthfully, I don’t know if I’m doing the right things. I know that in five years everything goes down, but that’s about as far as my history knowledge takes me. I’ll just have to keep as much real money on me as possible and prepare for the worst. Just enough for my friends to get by. They think I’m crazy sometimes, but they’ll understand.

All that aside, I somehow got myself into real estate. Do I know what I’m doing? No. But I’m making bank.

God, I really miss Google.

But hey, I’m making it big! Even if it’s technically cheating, I learned and studied and did everything on my own. It’s a little surreal, sometimes. I would never have made it this far in real life.

Real… life. What was I doing all that time?

This world has turned me into a completely new person. I’m— I could be really happy. Except for the promise of impending doom. That, and the man I live with.

It’s our third anniversary. So why, whenever I remind myself, do cold drops of dread form in my organs?

What a stupid question.

I turn into the familiar driveway. Our driveway. Of our house. That we bought with my money. That’s the only reason he keeps letting me do as I please.

Killing the engine, I step out of the car. I hardly expect Jean to do anything for our anniversary, or even remember. I… I don’t know where it all went wrong. The war? The times? The lack of his mother and presence of his father?

Me?

I don’t know.

In any case, I bought this tin can for us. For our special day. The flowers by the path leading up to the door are big and strong, full from the rains of spring and soaked in the sunlight of early summer. Beautiful little things.

I raise the key to the keyhole and pause.

Maybe a note would do. A little memo stuck to the drivers’ seat. I don’t even have to go inside. There’s a million other places I could go for a million different reasons. I could avoid him altogether.

But it’s our anniversary and I might as well… be present. Right?

I grip the bag strap. Right. Right. It’s the right thing to do, given my… history.

Jean Kirschtein. I know him. It’s fine. Fuck it.

I slip the key in and swing open the door.

The bar of light from outside illuminates a strip of the wooden floor. Empty. Okay. I slip off my shoes—

Shoes.

Those… are not my shoes, or Jean’s. And we never put our shoes down outside the carpet.

No. The drops turn into a flood of cold terror. No, no, no. No, I’m just assuming the worst. I slip off my shoes and pad to the bedroom. If I’m employing stealth, I’m not doing it on purpose.

The hall splits off into three. Bathroom, closet, bedroom. A dead end, decorated with a small, discoloured blotch from Jean’s knuckle all those years ago.

Silence. My insides, suddenly much heavier than they’re supposed to be. Wake paralysis.

How many times have I stood here? It… fuck.

Fuck, no, no, no…

If Jean is truly having an affair, wouldn’t it be best if I never found out? Slowly, carefully, I lay my palm against the wallpaper. Fuck.

So the only reason I’m here is to save my friends from the inevitable.

‘My friends’ being… what? A hallucination?

No. They’re just from another universe. AU. That’s— that doesn’t make them any less real.

ARE YOU DOUBTING AGAIN?

No, no, no, no… My nails scrape against the hardened paper. No. I’m going to stay for them. It doesn’t matter about Jean or about me or about if they’re fucking real or not. I’m staying right here. No. I’m happy here. You can’t convince me to leave. No.

HAPPY? YOU’RE HAPPY AS LONG AS YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO DO. BUT WHAT AFTER?

Well, I have my business—

AND IF IT FAILS? IF YOU FAIL? WHAT, ARE YOU JUST GOING TO GIVE UP?

PICTURE THIS. YOU GO BANKRUPT AND LOSE ALL YOUR ASSETS. WHAT THEN?

I would get them back—

YOU WOULD GIVE UP. FACE IT, YOU ALWAYS TAKE THE EASY WAY OUT.

No—

EVEN IF IT MEANS ABANDONING YOUR FRIENDS.

That’s not true.

THEN WHY HAVE YOU ALREADY KILLED YOURSELF TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FOUR TIMES? HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU LEFT THEM FOR DEAD?

YOU GOT LUCKY THIS TIME AROUND AND YOU’RE STAYING FOR THE LUXURY.

Shut up.

NICE HOUSE, NICE CLOTHES, FREE TIME, NEW CAR. IN ANY OTHER SCENARIO YOU’D BE OUT OF HERE.

I worked hard, I fucking earned my right—

YOU GOT LUCKY. YOU WOULDN’T LAST A WEEK LIKE THIS A BEGGAR.

The door swings open.

The door fucking swings open, and the man’s beefy frame is uncovered and on full display.

Blond.

Tall.

Sweaty.

The taxi cab driver, Reiner.

In the bedroom with my dearly wedded husband.

I… can’t do this.

Reiner breathes a curse under his breath and squeezes past me.

I stand there for a moment. Not moving, not averting my gaze from where Reiner’s eyes used to be. Knowing he’s laying there in bed, the dark shadow in my peripheries. He doesn’t move, either.

Somehow, he still knows that he fucked up. Irrevocably.

SO, YOU THINK HE’S TOPPING?

When I speak, my voice is steady, cleared of knots. “I’m doing this for my friends.”

End scene.

November 6, 1935 8:37 PM

The storm isn’t letting up, but we’re warm inside by the fireplace. Sasha and Connie are playing Jenga, except it hasn’t been invented yet, so it’s just ‘stacking blocks.’ I just brushed it off as something I played in my childhood, which is technically the truth. I couldn’t help myself — they always play Jenga.

Armin is reading in a barely audible murmur to Eren and Mikasa, the inseparable trio, their reflections against the snow-covered pane.

Erwin and Hange are trying to do something with the radio, Levi inputting periodically with mild annoyance (at the device. He’s not one for these ‘newfangled things’).

Annie’s trying to teach Reiner how to knit, but his big hands keep getting in the way. Needles click together awkwardly and often drop altogether, clattering on the hardwood. Christa and Ymir sit nearby and the latter spares no insult when it happens.

At the opposite end of the room, I’m curled up in Jean’s arms.

We have more than enough to keep us for the next six years.

I did it.

And if I close my eyes and try to forget, if I try hard enough… I can be so happy.

September 9, 1938 7:47 AM

The doctors are impressed. To be fair, I’ve been crushed, diced, torn apart, and chewed into pieces. You should be impressed.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Kirschtein. It’s a beautiful baby boy!”

It looks just like its father.

I’m going to be sick.

March 8, 1938 4:36 AM

The clock keeps ticking. It’s always ticking. Marco unlatches and starts to whine, and I coo in somewhat of a comforting voice. Jean doesn’t stir.

He never stops crying. It starts as a shrill call and builds up until his lungs empty and his face turns a belligerent shade of red and I’m afraid and somewhat hopeful he might die, but he stutters, sucks in air in choking steps, and does it all over again, building up in volume until his cries are raw and throat-burning and every cycle makes my brain rattle in its jelly cage. Over and over and over and over and over and over…

I’ve lost all my assets. We’ve moved into a crumbling apartment that might be a little bigger than our old living room. The clock never stops ticking.

“Shh, you’re okay,” I murmur, but to whom is a mystery. None of us are okay.

Marco cries anyway and it’s high time I start too.

Why? Why why why?

I did everything right, so why did everything go so wrong?

Sasha died that winter in 1935. How? Speared through the stomach by an angry bull. She just wanted to see the calf.

The irony of it all is… I take a deep breath, of sweat and mold. It’s inevitable. The narrative is going to kill them all, no matter what I do.

Jean stirs behind me, pulling the sheets as he turns away. “Shut up!”

I don’t know what to do anymore except wait.

Wait for the draft.

October 30, 1940 7:10 AM

“Um. Goodbye.”

Jean’s looking sharp in his uniform.

“Wave bye-bye to Daddy,” I croak. Marco only stares.

His Adam’s apple bobs, indicative of swallowing. I wonder what he’s feeling right now. Sad? Regretful? Fearful? How many times have I relived this scenario under such different circumstances?

“Goodbye,” he says again with a note of finality. I stare at his nose, his brow, his ears, perfectly as I described them, but never his eyes, and move on.

“Goodbye, Armin.”

He smiles with his mouth and big blue eyes that should never see the horrors of what lies before him. “Goodbye. And goodbye to you, Marco.”

“Don’t forget to write.”

“I’ll write every day.”

I smile. “Take care of the boys for me.”

He huffs a little in amusement. “That I will.”

Eren’s standing next to him. I wait until he’s done saying goodbye to Mikasa before coming in. “Goodbye, Eren.”

“Don’t you ‘goodbye’ me,” he grunts. “Everyone’s so gloomy. I’m coming back, whether you like it or not.”

I smile. No, you’re not. “I expect you to follow through with your word, then.”

“I will. Right after I take care of those bastards.” He sticks his fingers within arm’s reach and Marco grabs on as he wiggles it. “‘Till we meet again.”

“Don’t forget to write.”

“Yes, mother.”

I bump his shoulder. Next.

“Goodbye, Connie.”

The man turns upon hearing his voice and melts into a small smile. It never was quite the same, quite as full, after Sasha’s passing. “Goodbye.” The second half of the word drowned out by the horn of the approaching train.

Oh, Connie. You shouldn’t have to go out there again. I bite the inside of my lip. None of you should.

I open one arm and he takes me up on the offer, engulfing us with his familiar, comforting embrace; his warmth, the roundness of his chest, the way his ribs move as he breathes, the realness of him. Perhaps for the last time.

“I’ll miss you. Write to me.” I swallow down the waver that threatens my voice. “Good luck.”

He smiles, waves to Marco. “I’ll see you later.”

Then they leave, and I’m there on the platform, and I should’ve brought a heavier coat because a sudden chill breaks through.

YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO GET SENTIMENTAL. JUST KILL YOURSELF!

I hug Marco tighter to my chest and find Mikasa.

November 6, 1940 10:10 PM

The silence is just about settling in my gut like a cold stone. No footsteps or loud breathing or high-pitched whining in the apartment today. Marco is actually asleep today.

For now, it’s just me and him.

Silently, I move to the radio and switch it on.

—joining the war effort despite his extensive injury, here at the East coast we see Commander Erwin and his secon—

I shut it off.

Maybe now’s the chance. My opportunity to get away from it all. While Jean’s out, I can just… up and leave. I have five years. How hard can it be to fake you and your infant’s deaths in the 1940s, in the middle of the war, no less? I can scrape up what I have left and write a will. No, that’s suspicious… well, maybe not too suspicious. I’m sure the men had to do it too, so it wouldn’t be too far-fetched—

“Mama?”

Heart sprinting, I spin on my heel. There’s Marco, chubby little fist curled against the corner, hobbling forward in his striped onesie that looks almost black under the dim light. “Ma-ma?”

This… has never happened before. He’s never walked forward like this.

Marco takes one step forward—

bom

—and his head slams against the floor.

He doesn’t move.

And as much as I might want to, neither can I.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale… “Mar…co?” Inhale. The wooden edge of the radio bites into my fingers. “Marco? Marco?”

The— our— my child stirs, putting his hands flat on the ground and lifting up his heavy head.

There’s a dent in his forehead.

His mouth opens, little pearly teeth gleaming.

“POLO.”

My arms tremble, weak and static.

No.

“Get out.”

Marco flexes his fingers with none of the childlike clumsiness of a toddler. “YOUR CHILD IS ALREADY DEAD.”

“Get out.”

“DARLING…” He steps closer and I shrink into the radio as if I can phase through it, as if I’m a vapour. “SO ARE YOU.”

Death by stroke.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

275th reincarnation - band au

Screaming. The rise and swell of voices like an ocean wave of titan proportions, light flashing and glaring from every possible angle as if illuminating a microscopic specimen casting bizarre and animated shadows everywhere I dare look, the sweat, the hollowness of the ground below me, the way it vibrates. The weight of a bass guitar slung over my shoulders.

The weight of thousands of eyes pinpointed on me.

“Aaalright, Toronto!”

The crowd screams louder at Connie’s mechanically projected voice blasts through the loudspeakers that poke through the crowd, echoing through the dark and damp and open air.

“You ready for this one?”

Rise and swell. Individuality chewed into a paste and spat back out into the dedicated mass whose cries pierce into me. Into us. Connie — alive and breathing, alive — separates from the mic and shoots me a grin, skin already glaring with sweat. My hands come up, brushing the electric strings of the bass; a metallic shriek replaces the sound of the audience.

No. No, no, no, not this. Not this.

The first step is the hardest, breaking the ice that seals me to the raised stage. The rest come easy and before I know it, before I can get in a single coherent thought the crowd and the lights and the sounds are all behind me, and I’m running into the dark pocket of solace that leads offstage. Somewhere. Quiet. Away.

Hardly do I make it into some pitch-black equipment room and attempt to shut the door behind me before I’m intercepted and the door swings wide open again.

“Hey?”

Guitar strap half-over my head, I freeze.

“What’s going on?”

I dump the instrument on the ground and turn slowly. Brown strands turned red near the edges from the backlight, large, concerned eyes that are hardly visible yet distinguishable. Always distinguishable. Hell, I’d be able to tell her apart from a million plastically altered faces engineered to look just like her.

“Sasha.”

She scans me up and down, analytic, whole, and the single action makes me want to crumple in on myself. “I knew the new schedule was too much,” she murmurs, and I want to hug her. “Damned director never listens, though.”

I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, and I’m sorry I’m going to leave you again.

“Do you think you can get through this one concert? Then you guys'll have a break before we tour the US.” She smiles as if it's the most normal thing ever, as if she's not a ghost or absurd or a figment of my imagination. “I'll make Reiner buy us something really nice to eat, too. I hear the maple syrup here is good.”

How can you talk about maple syrup? How many times have I watched you die, powerless? How many times have I died without you? Can't you see the blood on my hands? Can't you see the blood on my hands? And you're talking about maple syrup?

“Are you—”

“I'm sorry.” The words spill out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I'm kidding myself. I'm stupid and weak and delusional and I never grew up past sixteen because I’m here. Despite everything I’m here. How many times now? I’m here. I’m—”

Everything wound up so tightly inside me like a coil snaps as the anchor is thrown overboard, chains clinking and echoing in the hollow frame called my body. The anchor is never going to touch ground. It’s just going to keep falling, violently accelerating, spewing out every piece of sea gunk and sewage caught in the rusted metal links, endlessly, and I find it in myself to smile because I really don’t know what else I’m supposed to do, I can’t scream, I can’t run, I sure as hell can’t cry. I sputter like an old car because my intestines unwind at Mach fuck.

“This is a secret between you and me, okay?” And vaguely I know I’m sullying her, I’m turning her impure, I’m exposing her to my indulgent sin, but since when did sinners care about that? “I need to kill myself.”

Connie’s voice is somewhere, muffled, trying to appease the crowd. Sasha is still. “What?”

“Jean. I need to kill myself so I can have a chance with him. I need to.” And the sound that comes out of me next is somewhere between a cough and a sob and it makes me feel so shitty I step toward her, the idea of comfort. “This is it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay?” And I touch her and squeeze her shoulder so hard with my strangely calloused fingers that it probably hurts, but she doesn’t flinch.

“Hey... Look, you’re not gonna do that!” she chuckles, and I’ve written her enough to know it’s a fake one, a nervous one, one she keeps tucked away in the deepest parts of her only to come out for emergencies. Glaring emergencies, and that’s how I know she cares so much. “Uh— Jeanboy? He’s such an asshole. You’d want his horse face carved onto your grave?”

Why did I write her like this? I should have made myself detestable. A piece of scum hated by the entire universe, because that’s what I am, a detestable piece of scum that leaves everyone behind over selfish pursuits. Hate me. Hate me. You’re like this because of me.

“You’re... not gonna do that. Right? You don’t— there’s other guys, you know? Or girls!” She pulls out the emergency laugh again and it’s a siren to my ears. “You have so many options! Thousands— no, millions of fans! You don’t have to settle for—”

“You don’t understand. Nobody will understand.” I cough again. “I know I sound like an edgy thirteen-year-old. I— I am edgy! Look at how I’m dressed!” The bracelets and bangles on my arm jingle when I jerk it and now she twitches. Something crashes in the background. “The fact is, you’re not real! The band isn’t real! Everything you know, your life, your friends, the world you live in, is just a figment of my fucking—”

“Calm down. Hey. Calm.” And she says my name and I’m sure it leaves a wound on her tongue. “Look, I think we need to take a break. Let’s shut this concert down, and—”

“You were never there for me.”

She stops talking.

“You were never there for me because you always died first.” My other hand flies to her shoulder before I fall over with the weight of whatever just came out of my mouth. What, what. Wow. I really am a piece of shit! So hung up over Jean. Is this love or something else? Something sinister? Should I have gone to therapy? And here I am destroying the best thing that’s ever happened to me— who am I kidding?

She’s only here because I made her. She should be somewhere else, enjoying korean barbeque. No, she shouldn’t exist at all. She never told me this was okay. I just took her and ran with it. I made her like this. I made her care for me and now I’m kicking out the bricks of her foundation that I laid down so painstakingly, one by one. But the anchor’s falling and nothing can ever stop it. “Sasha. You're never going to fit in. You're right when you think that Connie or Jean or Marco — is he alive in this one? — you're right when you think they don't actually like you. They think you're annoying. And no matter how many crazy jobs you take up— no matter how many you take you'll never really find a place to fit into this society. You should just go home and work in a convenience store because you're embarrassing yourself and your family.” The last sentence ends with an upward turn like I'm asking a question. “You're socially stunted, and…” I taste blood. “I'm sorry you exist.”

She's just a blur because she was never real in the first place. “I'm really fucking sorry.” She's just a blur because the salty tears leak into my mouth. Land ahoy, we're anchored.

“Sweetheart…”

“I need you to hate me.”

Warm hands brush away the hair that falls onto my face. “I could never.”

“That's the pro—”

“What the hell is going on?”

The voice, the rough-around-the-edges arrogant melody lined with a faint hum of baritone. My muscles petrify at the sound.

“Jean—” Sasha starts.

“Hey, we have a concert to do, yeah?” The light is almost completely blotted out now because he's here. “We need you out there.”

“Jean, give us, like, five minutes.”

“We don't have five minutes.” His steps come closer and suddenly there's light again. “What's going on?” Against my ear. “Tell me.”

Bzzzzzz. The whine of a mosquito. That's hysterical. Uproarious. A mosquito, here? Here? Here.

It's here.

It's time!

I've done more than enough here. I need to go. I need to go back to nothing. So without turning my head, I say, “I need to go,” and release Sasha. But Jean's big hands hold me back.

His hands. He holds me in place. What have those hands and I been through together? Every vein, every wrinkle, every tendonous ridge. How many times have we escaped death? Caused it? How many times have I seen them clasped in shaken, silent prayer, praying to an invisible god for a mercy that will never, never come? How many times has Jean wrapped himself up in those hands, clinging to the last semblance of ignorance and bliss and sanity left in his curled-up body?

"Back on stage, right?"

His hands. On my shoulders. Not painful, not gentle, but a third neutral option that somehow hurts the more than of both of them. Friendly.

“I’d rather you hate me, too.”

“What?”

Fuck, who cares? I’ll just kill myself and start over! “Back then. You acted like you loved me when you just hated me. But even then!” Like magnets my eyes lock into his and I nearly puke. He’s so close, I might blush. “Even then! Ha! You still stuck around for me! You screamed, you ignored, you fucking cheated on me with Reiner—” at this his face contorts— “but you still stuck around. You did love me. You always fucking loved me, and— and even if Marco was never born, you still would have stuck around.”

His eyes narrow into slits. “Don’t fucking say his name.”

I smile. “That was our child, by the way, but it’s not like you’d know, or care, because he’s dead. And you don’t exist anymore. And you know what! I should have killed your dad. I should have taken a cab right after you and went to his house and fucking stabbed him.”

“What the hell are you on—”

“Jean.” Sasha makes a motion and he grimaces.

“Concert’s off.” He snaps his head up as the light is blocked out once more, but not as much as when he stood there. The cords in his neck pop. “Concert’s off!”

“What’s—”

“Damn it, Connie, just go tell the audience.”

“But we need you guys—”

“Connie!”

I touch the side of his face and his pupils roll back to me.

“Veggie omelet. Your mom made it for you since you were little and it’s your favourite food.”

“What?”

“It’s also the only thing you’re able to cook, but you know, if you applied yourself, you can be a great cook. Michelin-star level. When you were six you fell off a swing and broke your arm but you told everyone you were fighting off a robber. Your dick curves a bit to the left. Your greatest fear is being abandoned. You can’t stand the idea of being left by people you thought you loved, which is kind of understandable, like I get where that comes from. You’re a big sleeper and a bed hog. You always take up as much room on the bed as humanly possible. Sometimes when you stand up you can’t move right away because the blood drains from your head too quickly. You say you’re a cat person but you love all animals and you think the discourse is stupid. Sometimes you get sad when you see a show you used to watch on TV as a kid but you would never admit it. You saw an emo kid once and seriously considered dying your hair black because you thought it would give you a glowup.” And here the torrent is corked.

Jean is shelled. Thrown overboard. He doesn’t lean in to my hand where I touch him; he treats it like an alien. “What are you doing?”

“You guys? What’s going on?”

There she is. Holding her guitar, disheveled, perfect, framed in the erratic backlight. There she is. “Connie said the concert’s off? Is that true?”

Bzzzzzzz…

It flies so close to the side of my head my eardrum might rupture. Batting around the air with its tiny wings. The crowd screams. It lands on the back of my hand and sticks there when Jean tilts his head away, his beard brushing against my palm. My hand hovers.

“Are you happy?”

The mosquito doesn’t move. Jean moves his lips but says nothing.

“Is this what you wanted?”

It whines again, the slapping of its wings spelling out a rhythm, words that I only hear from the inside of my head.

YOUR LIFE IS WHAT YOU MAKE OF IT, it buzzes. MAYBE YOU’RE THE PROBLEM.

“You just want to see me suffer. You took me from my life and put me through all this. Psychotic piece of shit.”

“Is she okay?” someone says through a wall of water.

YOU HAD EVERY OPPORTUNITY TO GO HOME.

“How could I?” The force of my words might blow the insect away but I bring it closer anyway.

“You guys go back… stage… take care of it…”

“After what you showed me? How can I go back? You showed me what happiness could be but you hang it on a string above my head. Are you a sadist? Is that it? You— you like seeing me miserable? You wanna see me cry?”

I CAN MAKE YOU FORGET.

FORGET EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS. ALL YOUR LIVES. FORGET ABOUT HIM ENTIRELY, AND THE SERIES AS A WHOLE.

WHAT THEN? WOULD YOU DO IT? WOULD YOU FORGET EVERYTHING AND RETURN TO YOUR OWN LIFE?

…

WOULD YOU DO IT?

My hand trembles.

I NEVER MADE YOU MISERABLE. YOU ALWAYS WERE MISERABLE. AND YOU ALWAYS WILL BE.

YOU SHATTERED THE FIRST TIME YOU SAW HIM WITH SOMEONE ELSE AT THAT DANCE CLUB. BECAUSE YOUR EGO IS WEAK. YOU SAW HIM WITH SOMEONE ELSE AND YOU JUST COULDN’T STAND IT. YOU JUST COULDN’T LET HIM GO, SO YOU PLAY THIS GAME OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

“Oh, fuck you. Fuck you.”

TOO BAD YOU’RE TOO MUCH OF A COWARD TO TRULY KILL YOURSELF.

I slam my hand against the wall and it stings, it hurts my bones.

YOUR DESIRE TO FULFILL AN IMPOSSIBLE AND SELFISH SCENARIO IS OVERCOMING YOUR HUMANITY.

I do it again. It’s just a small brown stain.

YOU’RE LAUGHABLE.

“I’ll fucking kill you!”

YOU KNOW AS WELL AS ANYONE ELSE.

The metal stands fall over when I crash into them. “Where are you?” Spit landing on the corner of my mouth.

THAT’S WHY YOU ALWAYS WROTE THOSE STORIES.

Warm, strong hands wrap around my shoulders.

HIM, AND AN IDEALIZED VERSION OF YOURSELF.

“Die!”

NOT YOU. NEVER YOU. ALL 276 TIMES.

“Hey!”

And the world becomes nothing before I’m slammed into the wall. By Jean.

YOU DON’T LOVE HIM. YOU LOVE THE IDEA OF BEING WITH HIM.

“What the fuck?” Jean snarls. “Are you on something?”

YOU LOVE THE IDEA OF FULFILLMENT. OF BEING WANTED.

“Fucking talk!”

WHY DID YOU STICK AROUND FOR SO LONG?

The pressure in my shoulders suddenly increases tenfold and I swear my bones creak under the sudden weight. Jean’s eyes are wide, his teeth, previously bared, now gleam as his lips curl into a cold upward crescent. His jaw unhinges and he speaks.

“BECAUSE YOU’RE JUST A SAD PERSON.”

I’M JUST A SAD PERSON!

Death by strangulation.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

epilogue

I went back home. I finished falling out of my chair, and that was it.

I closed all my online accounts. Ao3, Tumblr, Instagram. All my words and my connections.

I never had that much merchandise in the first place but I trashed it all. Leaving empty spots.

I cleared my camera roll. All the little doodles on scrap pieces of paper left lying around. I scrubbed out every trace of it.

I haven’t heard the voice since and I’m a little afraid to admit I miss it.

How many years have I spent there?

It doesn’t matter.

In the end it didn’t burn my memory. It’s fine. It’s fine.

I found a man. A real one. He’s nice. He likes ice coffees and sports cars. He doesn’t want kids and that’s fine. The only kids I’d want to have anyways are with— they’re with—

I wouldn’t want to have kids with anybody. It’s fine.

He’s a brunette but he dyes it blond. I never asked him to stop. I think it looks good on him anyways. I love him with all my heart and I know he loves me back.

We live in a condo by the 7-11 just like the one from—

I don’t know any convenience stores like this one.

We have a dog. A chocolate lab called Sasha. He loves hot dogs. My man says it’s a Russian name that means “defender of mankind.”

I think that’s sweet.

He calls him “defender of hot dogs.” I think that’s sweet, too. I love him a lot.

When we walk across the street, hand in hand, he suddenly lets go and shoves me aside. Squealing of tires. Plastic crushing. Out of instinct I reach for my ODM—

I don’t reach for anything.

I fall to the ground empty-handed.

Where we were standing there’s a truck. It’s a big one and it blocks out the sun. I can’t see him. I’m stuck to the ground. The drivers’ door opens and—

Nobody steps out. Nothing is there.

I want to puke.

“DO YOU WANT TO LIVE IN A FANTASY?“

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

okay we're done! i already kind of regret posting this but that doesn't really overcome the shame of posting anime boy x reader does it. oh well. sorry to everyone who's here for daily jean i'm never gonna stop doing this shit

#jean kirschtein fanfiction #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein fanfiction #jean kirstein x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #pushable #pushs oneshots

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sameschmidtdiffname · 11 months ago

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And now, for some shit ain't nobody asked for... *drumroll please...*

Fanboy Futturman Headcanons That Hardly Make Sense Unless You're Deranged

(because it's fun)

Tags: just rawdog it bruh, idk what this is. I got fucken murmed.

Notes: Special thanks to @luverstream for going insane with me. This list is based off of our oddly specific thread. Love you pookers <3

°☆>》¤●¤《<☆°

• 100% started writing fanfiction for 'Biotic Wars' because there was only two works in the whole fandom and they were both illiterate/ooc

• It started as a challenge because he likes writing as a hobby so he made a random account on Tumblr and wrote a one-shot from Tigers POV just for shits and giggles

• He didn't expect literally anyone to read it, maybe a couple notes

• Then around his lunch break the next day his phone won't. Stop. Dinging.

• Long story short, he ends up with an account with like. 1.1k followers

• Once he realizes he has a serious reader base, he takes his blog seriously

• He spends a weird amount of time perfectly curating his blogs aesthetic with mods and whatever extentions he can find

• Personally commissions other fans for his fanfic borders, proper gifs, etc. He has one fanfic actually illustrated for Kinktober and it stays at the top of the 'Biotic War' tags for months

• Speaking of Kinktober, literally will not make plans for October/late September because he knows he's gonna aim to post everyday

• Will stay up for days writing when he gets hyperfixated

• Hates posting short fics. If the number doesn't end with a .k he doesn't post it until it does

• Also has a bunch of Easter eggs from his favorite movies and such in his works as well

• Knows an insane amount of copywrite laws because he's had to deal with people illegally selling his works/uploading them on other platforms

• When he eventually gets a partner he initially lies and says he wanted to become a lawyer when he was a kid, thus why he knows so much

• That works for about 12 minutes before he finally breaks down and tells them the truth, then offers to show them his work because he's told literally no one in his personal life about it

• His partner eventually becomes his editor and co-author on certain works (mainly smut)

• Half the time when he's actively working on smut he's gotta stop midway to "test the accuracy" w/ said partner

• Writes OUTRAGEOUS smut that makes him unable to look in the mirror while he's writing it

• Deadass hides under his blankets in total darkness with tape over his computers camera because of the shame

• Has a collection of proofreaders/consultants because his first smut included cervix penetration and he got dragged by basically everyone on Tumblr for it

• Had a work get popular enough one time one of his friends sent it to him because they figured he'd get a kick out of it

• Which made him panic and stop writing for like a month to lay low

• Has a completely different Spotify account for writing because his mom uses his "normal" account even though he has a family plan (side note: they make little playlists for each other :))

• Has like 50 different playlists dedicated to his fics that's available for his readers to listen to

• The artists all range from Deftones to dodie depending on the work

• His top artist is Ayesha Erotica with 2000+ minutes spent on 'Yummy'

• (Also has an impossible amount of hours logged on said Spotify account)

• Has a whole panic attack when he leaves his phone in the 60s because he had a whole new chapter ready to publish in his 20 part hurt/no comfort/slowburn fic that was over 10.k words in his notes app

• Wolf finds his Ao3 account one time and becomes... concerningly obsessed with Futturmans work without realizing Futturman is the author

• It gets to the point Wolf will legit go on 30+ minute rants about the stories while Futturman is just hyperventilating in the corner because he doesn't know how long he can keep up the facade

• It gets worse when Wolf makes an account and starts actually commenting on the works

• However he ends up getting impressive tips from the rants and ends up incorporating his suggestions into his works

• Wolf never stops bragging about this

• His most popular work/series follows a female oc that originally started as a one-shot request for a oc x Wolf fic (which Wolf hates because he says it's OoC. Futturman does not agree nor care.) But ended up getting popular enough there's well over 20 parts

• At some point he, Wolf and Tiger get into a massive argument because he finds a bound copy of all of his works amongst their supplies and no one will confess who's it is and keep blaming each other

• (It's Tigers)

• When he gets to his final timeline he manages to get his all of his drafts back through Susan (who had a lot of questions, and was given no answers) and just publishes his work as an original series since Biotic Wars no longer exists

• "Orginial series" gets insanely popular and now he has like five burner accounts so he can read fanfiction of his own fanfiction

• Writes fanfiction for his own series purposely to fuck with the fanbase

• Usually will make it ooc but well written, but once in awhile comes up with a "headcanon" that will come true in his next book so he can watch the readers implode

• And last but not least

• He casts his other self in the final timeline as the male lead in the eventual movie adaptation. Because of course he would

(Bonus: in the OG timeline when Futturman ends up disappearing, his biggest series ends up never being finished, nor his blog updated. Leading to a weirdly thorough four hour video docuseries made by Wendigoon about the rise and disappearance of the mysterious author and how the 'Biotic Wars' fandom eventually finished the fic themselves and created their own spinoffs, leading the work to get more popular than 'Biotic Wars' ever was and like five different people falsely claiming they wrote it, only to be disproven within an insanely short amount of time. Yeah, kinda a full on My Immortal.)

>¤》○《¤<

Don't ask me what this was, I think I got possessed. Anyways, bon achoo sweet.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

•▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

#josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson #jhutch #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine #jhutch1992 #josh futturman #josh hutcherson x reader #josh futturman headcanons #josh futturman smut #josh futturman x reader #josh futterman x reader #josh futturman x y/n #jfutz #future man 2017 #future man hulu #future man

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abiiors · 1 year ago

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hot chocolate ☕ // matty healy x reader

promptober '23 - day 19

a/n: for all my girlies with the big sad, the cold months approach :/ cw: discussions of mental health, mentions of depression wc: 1.1k

matty has a pit of worry in his stomach. he’s had it for about two days now, for as long as the house has been unusually quiet. he’s alone in their dimly lit kitchen, barely any sunlight streaming in. whatever manages to sneak in through the parting of the clouds, gets diluted by the sheets of rain falling from the sky.

it’s dull and grey. exactly the kind of weather she hates.

matty gives the brewing pot of coffee another look and decides on abandoning it.

he knows what he will see when he walks into the bedroom—she will be in bed, in the same three day old pyjamas, messy and unbrushed hair, “taking a nap”. not that he cares about how she looks. it’s just the niggling pit that doesn’t let him sit still.

“darling?” he calls from the door, watching for any signs of movement under the duvet. “you awake yet?”

she should be, he thinks to himself. it’s nearly noon. he wants to make them some lunch but she doesn’t move, doesn’t reply to his question. matty gnaws on his bottom lip and walks in.

“i’m making something for lunch…” he says again, sitting by her side of the bed and resting a hand on her back. matty knows she’s not asleep. her breaths are nowhere near deep and even.

“i know you’re awake,” he says softly, moving his hand to her forehead, checking for any signs of an illness just in case. but deep down he knows the illness is not physical.

when matty threads his fingers through her hair, it’s not the usual soft and smooth strands he’s met with. his fingers get caught up in the greasy knots, accidently pulling on some hair. she winces.

“go away, matty, ‘m not hungry,” she mumbles into the pillow, voice feeble and barely audible. “‘m sleepy.”

he tuts. it’s a lie—if he’s right, and he suspects he is, she hasn’t properly slept in days, tossing and turning at night. and yet she has left the bed only a handful of times in the last few days.

he’s tried giving her space, to let her sort things out on her own because that’s usually what she prefers. but he draws the line at skipping meals.

“sleep after lunch,” he counters, and goes to draw the duvet off her.

it’s not even a moment later that matty fliches, appalled when she slaps away his hand.

“i said i’m not hungry!” she snaps, turning away from him, cocooning herself further, shut off from him, from the world.

he stills and for a moment the only sound in the room is that of the rain hammering against the window. it’s haphazard, nowhere near a soothing beat. this rain sounds more like an anxious heartbeat—loud, odd and out of sync.

then he hears the sniffle and his heart breaks.

“baby…” he approaches again, trying to at least slide the duvet off her face. “hey, look at me please.”

he doesn’t care that she snapped at him or slapped his hand away. right now, he cares that something is deeply wrong, and he’s ready to beg if that means she’d tell him.

“g-go away, matty,” she tries again, tries so hard not to let her voice waver or crack and yet he hears it.

matty decides enough is enough, and pulls the duvet off her entirely.

her pyjama top is wrinkled and bunched up around her waist, and if he’s being honest, she smells a little bit but he can take care of that later. showers and perfumes and oils can wait. everything else in the world can wait.

“i won't,” he declares firmly. “now you can either keep fighting me or you can tell me what’s wrong. either way, i’m staying right here.”

she looks at him through dull eyes that widen slightly with every word, jaw clenched to keep her chin from wobbling even as her eyes turn pink first, then watery until the tears fall one by one. matty doesn’t shush her, he just quietly pulls her into his chest, letting her cry it out.

“i’m so cold…” she says after a few minutes. her voice is already hoarse, a whispery shadow of what it’s like on the good days. today it’s barely more than a squeak. “so cold. all the time. i just…i’m just so tired, i can’t. i don’t know what to do. and whatever i do, i can’t g-get, can’t get warm.”

she breaks into another round of tears by the time she’s done—loud, gut-wrenching sobs that break his heart but he lets her be. his only job is to be there and hold her. he just needs to be the sun.

“i know what will help,” matty mumbles into her hair, pressing a small kiss to her head. “give me two minutes?”

and he does return two minutes later as promised. matty practically makes a mad dash to and from the kitchen, balancing the mugs in his hands and his socks sliding on the wooden floors around the corner. but the liquid in them stays unscathed.

“there we go,” he announces as soon as he’s back in the bedroom. a tiny pang goes through his chest when he sees her sitting up in bed, arms hugging her middle. she looks small, smaller than he’s ever seen her. but there’s a miniscule spark of curiosity in her eyes.

he’ll take that spark. he’ll nurture and rekindle it.

“chef matty’s hot chocolate,” he presents it with a flourish smiling at her raised eyebrow.

“i know you said you weren’t hungry and you were cold. so i thought this would be a good compromise?”

for a moment she doesn’t say anything, only takes the mug from him and cradles it close, lets the steam waft over her face. hot chocolate won’t do anything for a cold that goes bone-deep. but it’s a start. he can do the rest of the work.

“take a sip?” he nudges, sitting back in the same spot as before. he brings his own mug up to his mouth, nudging her to mimic him. together they drink their first sip.

instant sweetness floods his mouth, comforting warmth creeping down his throat and settling into his stomach. he can only hope it does the same for her.

and he will be there for the rest of it. for all the cold days that come after this.

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies@sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars

add yourself to the taglist

#tw: mental health #promptober75 #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty x you #matty x reader #hurt/comfort #tw: depression

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octuscle · 1 year ago

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Last day I found out my boyfriend had cheated on me multiples times, so now I want to use Chronivac for revenge to transform him into something hot for me and humiliating for him.

I don't know your taste now… But if you give me free choice, I'll just run one of my favorite presets. Transformation duration two days. Start during the morning meeting of your cheating boyfriend.

Your friend stands at the flipchart and explains the status of the current sprint of the software development project he is leading. Confident as always. A seasoned man in his early 40s, but suddenly he keeps losing the thread. He is unfocused. After the meeting, he runs into his office, takes a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and smokes a cigarette outside the building. And another. And plays with his cell phone. He surfs through porn sites he's never heard of before. Only when a colleague calls him and asks where he is, does he get back to work.

During the lunch break, his colleagues all go out for sushi. He says he's not in the mood for that shit. Drinks a beer at the food truck in the supermarket parking lot and eats a kebab with fries. Your friend spends the rest of the afternoon surfing the Internet in his office. He doesn't even go outside the building to smoke, he does it in the toilet.

On the way home, your friend looks at his reflection in a shop window. Fuck, he urgently needs a new haircut. Half an hour later he comes out of a 5-pound hair salon. And happily strokes his short hair. When you get home, your boyfriend is sitting half naked in front of the TV and jerking off. He asks if you can give him a blowjob. He would also immediately return the favor. There is no dinner. But you fuck like rabbits.

The next morning your friend gets up at 05:00. A round of running before work. He saves showering afterwards. He's been working for the security service for almost 10 years now, whether he's showered or not in his polyester uniform doesn't matter anyway after a few hours in the summer. That he wakes you up after the run with a blowjob is really sweet. But to be honest, the smell of cigarettes during the final French kiss with his cum-glutted tongue bothers you a bit.

You have made extra early closing time today. Your friend makes you so horny. The crisp young body this morning, his greedy tongue… In fact, his change has also rubbed off on you… You also had your hair cut short today. And you have also started to smoke. Nevertheless, the sight of your boyfriend almost knocks you over when he comes home at 4:00 pm. After the shift, he was working out. He stinks of smoke and sweat. He sees you lying on the sofa. And when he drops his pants, his hard-on jumps out at you like a jack-in-the-box.

Fuck, it's 10:00 o'clock when you wake up the next morning. Totally overslept! But the transformation is complete. Next to you lies an 18-year-old chav with a sneaker fetish and a sex drive that can hardly be satisfied. It is Friday. Take the day off. And let me know if you want me to adjust you a bit to your friend. In any case, have fun this weekend!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chav tf #revange tf #age reduction #male transformation #muscle transformation

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trickricksblog08 · 1 year ago

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Holy 🐄💫 This THREAD!!

CNN's @abbydphillip: "There's no evidence Joe Biden was involved in Hunter's business deals."

@mattgaetz: "Are you actually trying to say Joe Biden wasn't involved in Hunter's business deals?"

16 times Vice President Joe Biden met with Hunter's business partners below...👇

🚨Vice President Joe Biden meeting Hunter Biden's foreign business partners.

November 2010: Joe Biden had a sit-down meeting with Eric Schwerin - the president of Hunter's private equity firm - in the West Wing.

November 2011: Joe Biden met with Chris Heinz — a co-founder of Hunter’s private equity firm — in the West Wing.

March 2012: Joe Biden met with Andres Pastrana Arango — the former president of Colombia who Hunter was doing business with — at his personal residence.

December 2013: Hunter flew with Joe Biden aboard Air Force Two to China, where he introduced him to Jonathan Li, a Chinese businessman.

February 2014: Joe Biden had lunch with Hunter and two of Hunter’s Mexican business partners and was pictured giving them a tour of the White House.

June 2014: Joe Biden met Manuel Estrella — Hunter’s Latin American business associate. After the meeting, Estrella emailed Hunter: “Hunter, I just met your father! So exciting!” Hunter replied: “I'm glad it all finally came together.”

August 2014: Pictures show Joe Biden golfing with his son, Hunter, and Devon Archer while they were both serving on the Burisma board.

April 2015: Joe Biden attended a dinner in Washington, D.C., with Hunter’s business partners from Russia, Ukraine, and Kazakhstan.

#when you know you know #nothing can stop what is coming #no rest for the wicked #wwg1wga #now we know

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lou-struck · 2 years ago

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Rights and Lefts

Denki Kaminari x reader

~ You and Denki love hanging out, but recently he has been avoiding you and you have no idea why,

WC: 1.5 k

Genre: Fluff with a bit of miscommunication.

A/n: I've been trying to finish this for awhile and was finally able to do it today.

"Is your boyfriend joining you today?" The waitress asks, setting a roll of silverware and a menu out in front of your seat.

You take the familiar laminated menu and shake your head, "He's just a friend, But not today,"

She shakes her head. "That's a shame; I'll give you a few minutes to decide what you would like." As she turns her attention to one of her other tables, you stare at the empty spot across from you, you had messaged him earlier to see if he was going to meet you today, but he has yet to respond.

What is it that she calls a shame? Is it that the Stun Gun Hero Denki Kaminari isn't seated across from you in his usual spot, or is it a shame that he is just a friend?

Denki isn't one to remember to change his phone's settings, so you curiously check the text thread between the two of you. The recent text thread shows that only you have actually sent messages. Underneath each one lies one little word that you didn't notice before

SEEN…

Her words echo in your head as you try to remember the last time the two of you had actually followed through on your plans to meet for lunch. It must've been two weeks ago.

You have just gotten back from a trip with some of your friends and brought him back a cheesy souvenir from a gift shop.

He grinned ear to ear as he slipped on the pun-adorned t-shirt over his leather jacket. He looked kind of goofy, but the genuine smile on his face made your stomach flip in a way it hadn't before.

But the smile on his face fell suddenly, and he left the restaurant mumbling something about forgetting to turn off his freezer.

Come to think of it; you haven't heard from him since. The lack of his electrifying presence in your life makes you realize two crucial things.

One; You have feelings for Denki Kaminari

And Two, He has been avoiding you and you aren't sure why.

It's been a few hours since your little revelation at the cafe, but your stomach hasn't settled at all. All you can focus on is the question of why he is avoiding you.

Your brain hurts thinking back to all your little lunch dates, trying to figure out what exactly it is you said or did to the Hero to make him not want to spend any time with you. The curiosity tugs at your tender heart stings, and you can't stand not knowing anymore. You have to call him.

Pulling up his contact on your phone, you look down at his contact picture; his smiling image does little to put you at ease as you listen to the dull dial tone.

After a few rings, you hear the line click. "Yellow? He says over the phone. The light tone in his voice shows that he is trying not to giggle at the pun he just made. The sound of rushing wind passes by the speaker, so he must be outside.

You clear your throat to speak. "Denks?" the sound coming out is much softer than you thought it would be. His breath hitches over the phone at the nickname.

"Oh, y/n," he says quickly. "I didn't think that was you calling. Uhh, what up?"

He didn't think you were calling him, so that's why he picked up?

You want to hang up the phone right then and there, but the curiosity and heartache that has been tormenting you makes you stay on the line. "I-i was just thinking I haven't seen you in a while," you say absentmindedly, twisting the ring around your finger.

There is an uncomfortable pause on his end, and you can imagine he is biting the inside of his cheek, trying to come up with some sort of excuse for his actions. "Y-yeah, I guess I've just been super busy with Patrol to come and eat."

"That's not good," you say. The excuse he has given you makes a bit of sense, but you still can't shake that feeling in your gut. "Next time you think you're going to work through lunch, just give me a call, and I can bring you something."

"You'd do that?" he asks. "For me?"

"Why wouldn't I? We're friends, aren't we?" you reply, not liking how the word leaves your lips so easily.

He lets out a good-natured sigh. "Yeah, we are. Hey, I actually just got off patrol, and I'm starving. Wanna meet somewhere?"

You definitely weren't expecting this. "I haven't had dinner yet. Just tell me where to go, and I'll meet you there."

"Alrighty then," he snorts. "I'll text you the address," he says, hanging up the phone quickly without a goodbye. I wonder if he is feeling just as nervous about this as you are.

The pub he sent in the chat is only a few blocks away from your apartment, but each step feels like you are on a treadmill forcing you in the other direction. You wonder if you should confront him about his avoidant behavior, but if things are getting back to the way they are, should you just leave it?

Once inside, you notice the trendy light fixtures and the patterned vinyl flooring. This place really seems like the kind of place only Denki would be able to find. You are able to make out his distinct black and yellow hair from a booth in the corner, approaching it slowly.

"Hey, Denks," you smile, sliding into the seat across from the Pro Hero, who looks as nervous as you feel.

"Hey, y/n," he says, sliding a menu over to you. "This place looks good. Have you been here before?"

"Never," you shake your head. "Which is weird since it's so close to my apartment."

"I heard they have great Hamburgers," he says, eyeing a tray of food passing your table, trying not to drool over his favorite food.

Crap… It's too quiet. It's like neither of you knows what to say next.

Try as you might, you can't seem to think of anything to say back to him. Everything seems fine, but Denki's natural charming extraversion makes it seem like everything is fine. You search your brain for some kind of witty retort but come up short. Twisting your rings again, you notice his gaze coming to land on the little accessory before turning out the window.

"That's the bus," he says, suddenly pointing out the window at the large greyhound picking up a few passengers. On its side is a plastered poster for a new Action Comedy movie that is supposed to come out on Saturday.

"You've seen the trailer for it, right?" he asks excitedly. His energy seems to overpower the feelings of awkwardness in your gut, and you can't help but let out a little giggle.

"Yeah, of course I have. I really want to go and watch it before all the spoilers come out," you say earnestly.

He looks at you as if he has just had a revelation. "We should go together on Saturday."

You nervously clench your fists and take a deep breath; this is your moment. "Great," you beam, "Then it's a date."

"Yeah, it's totally a date," he says happily. But then he pauses. The spark of excitement in his eyes is slowly dulled with one of conflicted confusion.

"Denks? What's wrong?" you ask nervously.

Have you misread things?

Does he not actually like you in that way?

"Wait… but you're married," he says suddenly, "I really want to, but we shouldn't do this."

Your eyes shoot open, and you stare at the man next to you. Wondering if he is playing some kind of joke on you, but the serious look on his face tells you otherwise.

"Um, no, I'm pretty sure I'm not Married."

"Then what's this?" he cries, grabbing your wrist and holding your hand out in front of you.

What catches your eye is your little ring; it rests comfortably on your finger and glitters in the sunlight.

You got it when you were on your trip the other week and haven't taken it off since. Is this really why he has been so hesitant to see you? Because he is worried about ruining your nonexistent marriage?

Your mouth runs dry, "Denki, are you serious?"

He nods nervously, muttering a yes under his breath.

"That's my right hand. you dumbass."

He looks confused, and you take a deep breath in, rubbing your temples. "Wedding rings go on your left hand…."

He looks down at his hands and makes L shapes with his index fingers and thumbs squinting at them carefully. Noticing the left hand's proper placement he breathes a sigh of relief and grins at you. "Oh yeah, you're right!"

The tense feeling in your chest dissipates as you laugh aloud, knowing that the reason the Stungun Hero hadn't asked you out sooner was that he thought you were married.

"Soooo?" he grins, sending you a playful wink, "How about that date?"

#bnha fluff #bnha x reader #my hero academia #mha kaminari #bnha kaminari #denki kaminari #kaminari #Denki Kaminari x reader #Kaminari x reader #x reader

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queenbees21 · 2 years ago

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|[ Selfish really • • •]|

Summary: You belong to someone else…. Yet he cannot accept that…. He doesn’t want you to be happy. He doesn’t want to see you happy with someone… someone that isn’t him… it’s selfish really…

Warning: grammar errors, not proffered, angst, kinda “yandere” Izana, slight OOC Izana, Slight description of suggestive theme - but not further than that.

🎴Pt1🎴

Inspired by: Sweater Weather - The Neighborhood

His eyes linger on your figure as you talked your heart away…. Your lips… all he wanted was to shut your mouth angrily against his. He watched as you happily blew on your tea, and proceeded to take a sip.

You kept bringing up your upcoming wedding day, asking him to come to it… and yet again; he refused. “Aww come on! Why not Izana? You’re my best friend. And I want my best friend to be there!” You exclaim, hoping that; that’ll convince him. Unfortunately, it didn’t.

He smirks at you and shook his head before taking your half of the hunny bun. “Hey!”

“Sorry Angel, I’m really busy that day. So I can’t attend your big day.” He lied. “But, I’ll be there before the day comes. You count on that.” You pout, but softy smile. Appreciating he can at least make time to come before the event.

Once you were done with your lunch. You both stood up from your seats and headed your way out of the coffee shop.

Although; still disappointed, you slowly started to smile as you thought of an idea. “Hey. I know that look. Don’t even think about it.”

“Huh? What do you mean? I wasn’t thinking about anything?” You looked away, trying to hide your face.

“Sure, whatever you say Angel.” You softly smiled his way.

Dame… why did you have to smile like that. At him of all people, you should be smiling like that towards your… “soon to be” husband… so why him?

“Thanks for having lunch with me Izana. It was fun,” You say,

“You say that as if we’re not going to have any more dates?”

“Hey! It’s not a date! It’s just a hangout. Don’t make it sound weird.” You cross your arms, as you both stop at your designated location. In front of your apartment, you look at him.

Izana didn’t say anything. All he did was stare at you; admiring your smile. He took in your beautiful feature, your hair; falls on your face, as your eyes gently look into his. Your soft cheeks had a slight tint to it…

You looked away; nervously, you bit your lip. The way Izana gazed at you, made you feel anxious.

“So uhm, thanks for walking me home! Stay safe Izana, have a good night.” You bid him goodnight; looking back at your apartment. Opening your apartment door, your turn your head at Izana; and smiled. Then you closed the door, leaving him with his mind wandering.

…

Izana thought of what could’ve happened; if he had stopped you from closing that door. Leaving him forever… leaving him for someone else. He’s imagination ran wild of again… what could’ve happened. What he should’ve done; knowing that it’d cause trouble…

————————————————————————

He would have pushed that dame door open. You’d looked at him, startled by his sudden action. And then, you’d question his sudden outburst. Although; he’d cut you off with his lips smashing against your own, in a heated kiss…..

He’d guide your body to the kitchen. He’d lift you up with your thighs around his waist.. and place you on the counter. His hand; roams your body, He’d place your arms around his neck. His hands would’ve made their home upon your hips…..

Your fingers; threads through his snowy locks. Slowly moving to his face, and leaving them there. You’d break the kiss for air, causing him to chase after your lips, wanting more…..

You’d shyly get down from the counter… and guide him to your bedroom. His smirking face, would get on your nerves…

Then after all that, both of you would fall asleep; naked, in each other's arms. Snuggling one another.

Izana would get to wake up to you, cuddling close to his body….

He’d gaze down at your sleepy features, moving some of your fallen hair out your face; to the back of your ear.

He’d get to caress your cheek and kiss your lips, which would wake you up….

You’d smile up and him, and close your eyes getting a few more minutes of rest. Though; he wouldn’t let you. By the way he’s pepper kisses on your face, says it all. You’d smile and try to hide your face on his chest….

Izana would chuckle, before taking ahold of your chin. Slowly lifting it up, and staring at your flushed face. You’d close your eyes and lean in, only for him to lean back….

He’d tease you, making you think he’s leaning in for a kiss. Only for you to get embarrassed when he stops and makes fun of you….

…. You’d pout and turn your back to him. The covers would slip down to your hips, making you cold and slightly shift….

Izana would pull you close to him. Trapped in his arms; he peppering kissing on the back of your nape, and cheeks as an apology…

You’d eventually forgive him, and turn to place your lips on his. Softly moving your lips against his, hearts thumping and blood pumping…

Your hands would roam his body: His chest, to his neck, and the back of his head. You’d play with his snowy curls, as he; curls your own (Hc) locks.

He’d get to enjoy the taste of your sweet lips against his, without a care in the world. No worries, no nothing…

————————————————————————

But then… Izana opens his eyes, he realizes that it never happened…

Reality hits him like a truck… you’re not here… you’re not in his arms. You never were.. and he knows that it’ll never happen. You’re not his.. and he’s not yours.

You’re getting married to someone that’s not him, the thought of it only makes his blood boil. But at the same time, his heart aches.. he’s in pain… he’s not ready to let you go. He’s doesn’t want to let you go.

He doesn’t want you to be happy with someone that isn’t him!

He wants you all to himself. You were supposed to be his, and he was supposed to be yours. How did it end up like this? If only you’d get his hints sooner… he thought he made it obvious that he had feelings for you, So how did you not get it?

Were they not straight forward enough? Or were you oblivious towards his feelings? I mean you do tend to miss the signs of things… was he not obvious enough? Or was his hits not that good?

Regardless; he thought he was making his feelings clear. Clearly I didn’t work…

… ‘Well it’s not like it matters anymore…’ Izana thought, as he sadly gazes at you walking down the aisle… his hopes and dreams… shattered as he watches you kiss your now ‘husband’. Happy cheers and falling flower petals ran down on you.

All Izana can see was you… being happy… with someone that isn’t him… and he doesn’t like it.. he hates it…

One would usually be happy for someone’s else big day. And yet, here he is; a small frown grace his face. It was quickly hidden with a fake smile when you turn to him.

That smile… it felt bidder sweet to him. It was a smile of happiness, not a smile of someone in love. Someone that you’d smile at, when your in love with them… but you weren’t in love with him.

You were someone else’s and he didn’t want that, he hated it. He despises it, he wanted to rip you away from your hus- No, that stranger. Take you away from him, steal you away. Make you his. And his alone.

It’s selfish really…

But what can he say.. he’s just one selfish human being… a selfish man that was in love with a woman that isn’t his...

Hoped you enjoyed! Stay safe and have a good day and night! - 👑🐝

Update: part 2 memories of you

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slut-for-sterek-and-thiam · 2 months ago

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I've had this idea for an autistic Scott McCall AU thing for months, and I have all these ideas. I'm not sure where to go with them, but I'll list a few here and maybe I can come up with more solid stuff later.

Imagine, for example, being able to detect the lies of even those trained in controlling their heartbeats because he's just that sensitive to sound.

Or imagine him having this "if it doesn't seem like it'll help, i'm not doing it" attitude that extends even to shifting under extreme duress. Like he's being electrocuted Derek-Hale-style, and they're trying to see how far they can push him to induce a shift, and he's just . . . not shifting. The hunters are wondering wtf is wrong and if maybe he's not a werewolf after all, but if any of them bother to just ask him what's going on he's all "would it help me get out of this? no? then why would i do it? you're not making sense." and they're just like "how tf are you even doing that? it's not supposed to be voluntary." And then he does shift, but only like . . . the middle finger or something. "there, you happy?"

I have more, but I gotta get to bed so I'm at least a little bit lucid for my lunch plans. It felt good to get some of my preliminary thoughts down. I'll write more later about other characters and some of the plot threads I'm thinking of(like making the Anuk-Ite the villain that pushes Scott into "true alpha" status - something about bravery being about being afraid but doing the right thing anyway).

I dunno what I'd call this Au tbh, but I think Scottistic sounds stupid so I'd probably go with something like Dis/Connected or In/Sensitive.

#teen wolf #fanfic ideas #fanfiction ideas #autistic scott mccall #autistic scott mccall au #teen wolf au

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puzzledmemories · 4 months ago

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((needed to just take time today to go through and make sure i didn't miss any drafts while i was sick, because i was missing. um. quite a few! and that definitely wasn't a i'm not interested situation, that was a my sick brain couldn't keep up with anything situation. and i still have stuff in the inbox as well. i also went through and added some icons to drafts so i can work on them tomorrow. it's late.))

((i would like to work on some replies tomorrow at work because i have no self control and i'm very close to caught up on my work i'm late on from being sick. however, there's a good chance i'm gonna be supervised during work. and when i'm supervised it's mentally harder for me to be on here. or elsewhere on the internet. even during my lunch break.))

((once i get home though the world is my oyster, and i intend to try to get back in the groove! i'm definitely struggling a bit on that front, which has nothing to do with how much i wanna be on here, and everything to do with my anxiety feeding me lies that i'm doing my best to deal with. i will be trying to reply to dms and threads tomorrow!! i think my mental strength is coming back. i was able to do more at work today than yesterday, and yesterday was a rough day anyway.))

((as weird as it sounds, i got burger king for dinner today and that really threw me off))

((i've missed being on here lots. i will try to be back tomorrow! it's just. really late tonight.))

#ooc;;#((steam families are out of beta so my family started a steam family that i joined tonight))#((i'm pretty sure i own less than 100 games on steam. i now have access to over 700. it's overwhelming))#((well. now my family has to cope with seeing yugioh in their games list. the free ones of course.))

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wellthebardsdead · 2 years ago

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To Deny Godhood pt6

Part 5 here

———

Shamat: *sighs watching the last of his followers leave the room after his final service of the day, and among them, a familiar argonian from house telvanni* finally… *stretches and stands up, glad he finally has a moment to just breathe and stop pretending he’s Voryn*

Councillor: *suddenly steps in* You’ve done well yet again lord dagoth. It seems you truely are remembering who you are.

Shamat: *nods removing his mask and blinking all 3 of his eyes* I know who I am. It is just a matter of remembering what I’ve forgotten in my long rest… *sets the mask back down* if I am done with my duties for today I will take my leave.

Councillor: Very good. I’ll escort you to your chambers.

Shamat: I- but I thought lord nerevar said I was allowed to roam the halls freely now? Have I done something wrong?

Councillor: What? No you haven’t. Lord Nerevar may be the head of house indoril and this may be his city but I am still the high councillor of this temple and I granted no such permissions-

???: Is that so? Former. High. Councillor.

Shamat: *looks to the door to see nerevar standing there, arms folded and glaring at the councillor* nerevar. *smiles softly, keeping up his act of affection towards him*

Councillor: I- l-lord nerevar I didn’t hear you come in I what do you mean f-former?

Nerevar: *glances at Shamat and smiles before returning his glare to the councillor* you undermined my authority in the temple of my house and of the 6th house now mourned. I will not stand for this loose tongued slander, if you speak so forwardly to my dreamer than how boldly have you spoken to others lesser than him? What other lies have you sewn to further your own gain?…

Councillor: i- no- i *suddenly drops to his knees grovelling in a kowtow* m-my lord mercy! Please I beg of you! I was only being careful! We do not know if we can fully trust ur dagoths reincarnation y-

Nerevar: VORYN DAGOTH!

Shamat: *visibly jumps and staggers back a little in fright thinking for a moment he was the one being yelled at*

Nerevar: *notices he’d frightened the dunmer but doesn’t acknowledge just yet, instead kicks the councillor off his boot and continues his reprimanding* His name is Voryn Dagoth! I will not stand to hear him referred to as the sharmat any further!!

Councillor: *realising he’s really fucked up, now bowing so aggressively he’s hitting his head on the stone floor* my lord! My lord please forgive me! Forgive me!

Shamat: I forgive you.

*silence*

Nerevar: what?…

Shamat: the insult was directed at me. He called me by the title of the sharmat… I forgive him… I did not mean to over step- but… *steps forward and helps the councillor to his feet, blood from the other dunmers forehead now spilling onto him and his robes* I cannot stand the suffering of others… *places his hand on the wound, healing it with the little magic his jewellery like restraints allow*

Councillor: *grey skin turning maroon with blushing from the others kindness* i-

Nerevar: … *sighs* you are forgiven… and demoted in rank… go.

Councillor: y-yes my lord- i-i mean my lords! *hurries off and out the door without another moment spared*

Nerevar: *watches him leave before looking back at Shamat* …

Shamat: *kneels down and bows into a kowtow, long black hair falling like silk threads onto the now bloodied floor* forgive me my moon and star… I should have held my tongue… I never meant any har- oh-

Nerevar: *gently takes hold of him and helps him to his feet* do not apologise to me my dreamer… *looks at the blood now all over the Dunmer’s robes and hair* His filth has stained you…

Shamat: *smiles and looks away seemingly shyly* I-I was hoping to have a bath after coming to visit your office again… I suppose I’ll go have my bath now instead then…

Nerevar: *slides his hands around the others waist, giving a gentle squeeze* Would you like some help?…

Shamat: *trying to keep his lunch from coming back up at the idea of him touching him again, simply smiles and nods giving him bedroom eyes* hmm, maybe. If I’m not stealing you away from anything?

Nerevar: *scoops him up with ease* Not at all~ *carries him out and back to his chambers*

*meanwhile*

Xelzaz: *steps into his room in the corner club* gods… *locks the door and sweeps the room checking for spies or assassins before pulling the parcel Shamat had given him out of his robe* okay Shamat, what did you give me?… *opens it up revealing his journal, wedding ring and the Talisman Kaidan had given him, all things he managed to get back from Nerevars office* … *opens the journal and flicks through the pages, stopping as a note falls out of it* oh?… *picks it up and reads it* Contact. Neloth, he’ll know what to do… oh divines no Shamat really has lost it!!! Why that mad old bastard?!

#xelzaz skyrim #Shamat the sharmat #voryn dagoth #Shamat dragonborn #dunmer dragonborn #indoril nerevar #nerevar #skyrim

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officialleehadan · 1 year ago

Text

Escort Equipped

To Build an Empire

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Cuira allowed her maids to tease her in a way she might otherwise have shut down, simply because she was in such a good mood. As it was, the word spread quickly among her maids exactly how Bess had found her, and who she had been with at the time.

“I’ll never know how you do it,” Maritza complained cheerfully as she finished with Cuira’s hair and began threading glittering pins into it. “We’re all of us trained to watch you, keep you safe, and otherwise make sure nobody is getting close enough to do you harm, and yet, somehow, that hulking husband of yours managed to get into your rooms without any of us knowing about it.”

“He is your emperor, Maritza,” Cuira chided her gently, because while teasing was acceptable, even welcome, disrespect to her husband was not to be permitted. She liked Maritza, but Cuira knew perfectly well who was paying her maids, and that it wasn’t her. Until she was certain of their loyalty, her trust would have to remain her own. “And he was trained in infiltration before he was an emperor. Do you think those skills simply disappeared when he was given a throne?”

Maritza paused, chastened by the firm, although kind correction of her behavior. Cuira patted her hand reassuringly. She wasn’t angry, but there was decorum required, and as one of Cuira’s maids, her behavior did reflect on the throne.

“How long has he been coming to your rooms?” Whiloh asked more softly and helped Cuira up, towards her gown for the day. Dominik would almost certainly be wearing his armor to lunch with her father, and she intended to match him. Rather than wear red twice in two days, she opted for almost-black navy blue, decorated with crystal stars, stitched into perfect constellations. It took three maids to get her into it. One to steady her, one to hoist the dress up, and a third to lace it tight. “None of us have seen a bit of him, but lately you’ve seemed… close.”

“You need only know that he is not a stranger to me,” Cuira said, knowing that it would do more to frazzle her maids, and any spies they reported to, than anything else she had to say on the matter. “But do please feel free to come up with whatever colorful exaggerations you feel my father will believe. I encourage your creativity, provided that it retains the facts of who you found in my bed, and what we were doing when you found us there.”

It was something of a risk, but it also wasn’t a secret who they reported to. They could prove their loyalty to her by allowing her father to chase his tail in any direction that they chose.

Dressed, bejeweled, and ready for war, Cuira gave herself a once-over and caught Bess’s eye. “Please check on Hindera this morning. I have not seen her since she came aboard, and I promised she would want for nothing.”

“Yes Empress,” Bess said, still smiling to herself. “Would you like me to attend her?”

“If her own maids are not treating her with appropriate respect, yes, but tell me first.”

“Yes, Empress.”

Maids settled, Cuira nodded to Whiloh and Maritza to follow her, and checked the small comm that hid neatly away in a pocked amid her skirts. Dominik had sent her a message, requesting her presence by the siegebreaker wing of the ship, where he was to introduce her to the siegebreaker who would be assigned to her side. It would be a protection and assistance in one, for it would take a strong assault indeed to go through even a single one of Dominik’s enhanced soldiers, but she also needed those same enhanced senses to pick out the loyal among the court.

It was very difficult to find good help when everyone she spoke to lied as easily as breathing.

“We have a stop to make before we go to the meeting rooms,” she said when they were on one of the many transports that hummed through the base. This one was hers, of course, but there were many aboard the immense space-base. It wasn’t far to the siegebreaker’s wing. She had wondered about that before, about her nearness to what she thought was simply the bulk of their military. Now she suspected it was because Dominik’s rooms were still among them. “My imperial husband has promised an escort of one of his elite, which should make my meetings with the household go more smoothly.”

“And if he doesn't, you can have them shoot whoever is annoying you,” Maritza said slyly. Cuira didn’t laugh, but it was a near thing. “Where are we to meet His Imperial Majesty?”

Cuira sent a message to Dominik and got a reply that came so quickly he must have been waiting for it. “The training rooms.”

Cuira had never been to the training rooms. It wasn’t even close to appropriate after all, but she was beginning to realize that she didn’t particularly care what was appropriate. She had sacrificed far too much to propriety, and refused to let it steal away her happiness now that she was just beginning to find it. Still, it wasn’t like the ship didn’t know who she was, and Dominik’s siegebreakers would certainly know her, on sight if nothing else, but they very probably knew her by scent as well.

That was harder for her to understand, and made her a little uncomfortable, but there was nothing for it. They couldn’t turn off their senses, and she didn’t blame them for it.

She did ask Dominik if her perfume was bothersome, but he assured her that it wasn’t. The way he smiled faintly when he said it suggested he had more to say on the matter, but he kept whatever it was to himself.

The scene inside the training rooms of the siegebreakers was one of controlled chaos wrapped in careful order. There were other soldiers among them. Those who were brave or foolish enough to train with soldiers many times their own strength and speed. All the same, it was clear that the siegebreakers welcomed those soldiers in and taught them. Better, it let the regular soldiers practice techniques that would kill or maim a weaker opponent.

Cuira new almost nothing of military affairs. She couldn’t even throw a punch, and despite having a rough idea of how to stab someone, it being fairly self-evident, she didn’t have more than that.

Still, the first sight of her husband, battling against three of his own soldiers, left her mouth dry.

He was shirtless, muscles on display as he fought back. The three soldiers in the ring with him, two men and a woman, pushed him hard. None of them had weapons, but bruises bloomed under their hands whenever someone landed a blow. Those bruises barely had time to show purple before they were gone again, washed away by the nanites that made them what they were.

Dominik was giving a good showing of himself, to Cuira’s inexperienced eyes. She thought they were trying to take him ‘alive’, which made sense, all things considered. Dominik was an emperor now, and while many would try to kill him, more still could wish to capture him for their own purposes. She was glad to see him training for that possibility.

She might not be able to protect him, but at least he was more than able to protect himself.

Cuira saw the moment he noticed her. He paused just for a moment, gave her a roguish wink, and kicked one of the other siegebreakers hard enough to send him flying out of the ring. The woman dove at him, but although her strength was likely close to his, she was still much smaller. He caught her, and bodily threw her at his third opponent. Before any of them could recover, he ran for the corner of the ring, where another man was waiting, and tagged his hand.

“Match!” the fifth man yelled, and the other three pulled themselves to their feet, grinning and groaning playfully. Dominik paused to talk with them, and clapped one of the men on the shoulder. The woman punched him in the ribs, but it looked playful even to Cuira’s eyes. The woman then whirled and pounced on the third man for a frankly obscene kiss,. He caught her easily, and staggered for a nearby door, to the hoots and whistles of everyone who saw them.

Dominik only shook his head and climbed out of the ring to join her. He snagged a loose shirt off one of the nearby benches, but, much to her delight, did not put it on.

“You got here faster than expected, or I would have met you at the door,” he said, just a little breathless, and with his friend, the fifth man in his match, at his heels. Cuira thought about giving him the very-appropriate curtsey she should offer her emperor, and stood on her toes for a kiss instead. He made a small, surprised noise but leaned down to meet her with a pleased hum. Whistles echoed from around them. “What was that for?”

“I thought it was simply the way your siegebreakers end a successful match,” Cuira said impishly and startled a laugh out of him. “But if it was inappropriate…”

“Just unexpected,” he told her a shade too quickly, and slung his shirt over one shoulder before taking her hand. With the other, he beckoned his friend, who wore a very amused grin, forward. He was a tall man, taller even than Dominik, although not as heavily-muscled, and boasted close-cut blonde hair, and blue eyes. Like Dominik, he sported the metallic ring of nanites around the iris of his eyes, although they barely showed against the blue. “Cuira, this is Jyn Deurians, my closest friend, and second in command of the siegebreakers. I asked if he would mind working with you and he agreed to help with whatever you need.”

“Nice to meet you, Empress,” Jyn said, polite, although still resoundingly, charmingly, incorrect. He gave her something like a bow and Cuira resolved to arrange etiquette lessons for any of the siegebreakers who agreed to them. She thought their blunt honesty was delightful, but there were many courts where it would be a liability. “I hear you have a problem with people lying to you. I’ll be able to sniff them out for you. Plus, I’m pretty good at killing things.”

“You really should have had a siegebreaker escort before now,” Dominik said apologetically, but Cuira waved it off. “Jyn’s one of our best, and I trust him completely.”

“High praise, my husband,” Cuira said and smiled up at Jyn. “I would be glad for the escort, and I do need help with the household. The perils of running an empire. Everyone wants to know what we’re thinking before we think it.”

“Sounds stressful.”

“Depends on their motivations and how annoyed I can make them on the way.”

Jyn stared at her, and then burst out laughing and clapped Dominik on the shoulder. “It figures you married the only noble girl around with as much sass as you. Go shower. I’ll watch out for your empress.”

“You’re an ass,” Dominik muttered to him, but kissed Cuira again, to the titters and giggles of her maids, and Jyn’s snickers. “I promise he knows how to be appropriate when he feels like it.”

“I never doubted it,” Cuira promised, and cast her eyes on Jyn, adopting a strict expression that he could almost certainly see right through. “Commander, I will need you garbed appropriately. I assume you have something resembling my dear husband’s armor?”

“I- yeah?” Jyn said, apparently startled out of his laughter. “I have a dress uniform too, somewhere.”

“I would rather you look somewhat terrifying. Fear, I have discovered, makes people more inclined towards honesty,” Cuira said, and leaned into her husband’s shoulder, still just a little resentful that they had been interrupted this morning. Hopefully it wouldn’t take much to talk Dominik into another visit to her chambers, this time with rather more intent involved. “Now if you do not mind, Commander. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes. Shall you meet us there, or can you be ready in time?”

“Give me five and I'll be ready,” Jyn said cheerfully and clapped Dominik on the shoulder. “Come on, Dom. Kiss your Empress and wrap it up. You need a shower before you go yell at the generals.”

“Fine, fine,” Dominik sighed, but he did kiss Cuira one more time, lingering and sweeter than she would have expected before she got to know him. When they parted, he brushed his thumb over her lips and Cuira gave him a very wicked smile that made his heart speed under her hand. “Minx. Go on, I’ll see you for lunch with your father in a few hours. Perhaps by the time I get there, I’ll feel less like shooting him.”

“If you decide to do it anyway, warn me first. This is a complicated dress,” Cuira teased him brightly and gestured at her dress. On a whim, he lifted their joined hands and encouraged her to spin for him, which she did gladly. “Blood would ruin it, and that would be a shame.”

“Perish the thought,” he agreed, and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “Now go on, or you’ll be late. Jyn, keep her safe. I don’t trust Steil not to try something stupid while my back is turned.”

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To Build an Empire:

Garden Dome (Subscriber Only!)

Claxon Call

First Name Basis

Arrangement of Nobles (Subscriber Only!)

Of Adamant

Cross an Ocean (Subscriber Only!)

The Second Challenge (Subscriber Only!)

Snacks and Snipers

Torn Silk and Blood

Hostage Explained

New Understandings (Subscriber Only!)

Dinner Door

Enter Together (Subscriber Only!)

Changing Loyalties (Subscriber Only!)

Shots Across the Plate (Subscriber Only!)

Wine and Words (Subscriber Only!)

Waking Discovery

Escort Equipped (New!)

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MASTERLIST

#Writing #writing prompt #story #novel #romance #love #spilled ink #spilled writing #spilled romance #spilled feelings #writeblr #lee hadan #LGBT #inspiration #long post

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