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jake-webber · 2 months

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I am weak for vampire!Sam and demon!Colby if you want to write something 'bout that

the way my mind already knew who im associating this au with. @samandcolby-ownme my beloved thank you for introducing this au to me. i give all credits to you for vampsam and demcolby

content warning: kinda mean dom reader but very much sub SnC, Colby has a tail,,…, fem reader, near death experience (briefly mentioned), implied stripper!reader, BAD sex dialogue i think, if you’re more used to @samandcolby-ownme’s writing style for the boys, this one is very diff.

VERY MUCH UNEDITED

no smut, meaning no peen in vag but very sexual stuff under the cut. 18+ only!!

You were absolutely drained, both mentally and physically. Your whole body aches and you walk around the room as if you were anemic (which you could be at this point). As much as you loved your boyfriends, you’re high maintenance lovers, it’s taking a toll on you.

Other than the heavenly yet punishing sex they both give you, they keep forgetting to mention their other personal and unnatural needs as, well, not natural beings.

Consent and boundaries were set up before the three of yours’ relationships began. Their needs and your needs, as long as asked for permission, is given green light to the other. This applies for Sam’s request of sucking your blood which you don’t usually so no to and Colby’s demonic need of sucking the energy out of you by ‘absorbing your essence’ (you’re still not 100% sure how it works since he usually just closes his eyes as you stand there, feeling every bit of your serotonin slowly leaving your body).

Lately, for some reason, their needs doubled. Sam sucked your blood half to death if it weren’t for Colby snapping him out of his senses when you began losing color and consciousness. Colby was no better though. Unbeknownst to you, he’s been absorbing to much of your essence that it leaves you in such a worn out state.

You were angry and easily irritable, like a ticking time bomb. Just like right now.

As soon as you opened the door to your shared home, you were overwhelmed with the smell of their perfumes, telling you that they’ve been in the house the whole time while you were away, and the scent usually sends you into a calmer mood knowing your boys were here, but in your state right now?

“Sam? Colby! Sam!” You yelled from the living room, a striking headache already on its way as soon as the two appeared out of thin air.

“Baby, I’ve missed you.” Sam approached you with an arm reaching for you neck, rubbing the holes that showed his constant penetration on your poor skin. You could tell from the way he’s licking his lips, eyes not meeting yours, that Sam was going to ask for your blood. Again.

You scoffed, something you’ve never done towards them, swatted his hand away from. This caused for the blonde boy to flinch, red eyes flashing in the dim lighting. You could see Colby reacting to the unfamiliar reaction from your peripheral vision.

“Bad day at work?” He asked, arms crossed as he walked towards the both of you.

You ran a hand against your head, combing your already disheveled. “I don’t know, you tell me.” You didn’t know what came over to you, eyebrows arching in sarcasm. “Fucked up week would be a better way to describe it.”

Sam, unbeknownst to you, felt something crushing in his undead heart, like chains being harshly twisted and pulled at every bad energy you were sending out. Of course, you were unaware of that, continuing to do so. Colby, on the other hand, felt his eyes twitching, not from anger, but at his lack of breath as if he was being choked. His necklace hung low on his neck, there was nothing else that should be making him felt this way.

Despite all this, you began talking when they didn’t, oblivious to their pain. “I don’t know if you’ve been noticing but for whatever fucked up reason, the two of you have been taking too much from me.” Sam clenched the spot on his shirt where his heart would be residing, feeling it beat once again. He doesn’t remember it hurting like this.

Colby was fast on his feet to take your hands, releasing the grip of your unwelcoming crossed arms. “We didn’t know— We aren’t supposed to be here and we aren’t used to it.”

“As much as we hate it, it’s kind of— like, our way of having our powers work here.” Sam explained further, somehow compelled to telling you.

Their words didn’t seem to work to calm you down you rolled your eyes.

“Right, as if that’s any of my fault.” You replied, taking your hand back from Colby’s. His eyes widened at your action, feeling as though he’s made a grave mistake.

You’re disappointing her.

They both felt agonizing pain in their entire bodies at the same, especially on Colby’s neck and Sam’s chest. Colby held onto himself as he tried to catch his breath while Sam was clenching his fist to his chest.

“I mean, seriously, it’s been affecting me so much. I could barely do any of my choreographies without getting dizzy, I accidentally snapped at a costumer— not to mention, our highest paying.” You continued your tangent, eyes anywhere but on your boyfriends’ withering state. Your words struck them like lightning coursing through their body, making Sam the first to fall on his knees.

It was only when you heard a second thud when you turned back around. Your eyes widened at the sight of both Sam and Colby on their knees, their inhuman traits were out in the open.

“Sam? Colby? What the fuck is happening?” You knelt down to their level, trying to lift their heads up. Colby harshly grabbed your arm as soon you got closer, making you wince in pain as his sharp nails dug in your skin. Your reaction immediately made the boy struggle even further.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” The boy chanted to himself. “Fuck, I didn’t mean it, please.” Colby pleaded to you as if you were the one hurting him.

“Please, forgive us. We didn’t mean to anger you, make it stop.” Sam wheezed, his eyes having the brightest shade of red you’ve ever seen him have. The only time you’ve seen a glimpse of it was during sex.

Their words confused you as concern began washing over your anger. “Wait– guys–” Before you could even start talking to them, a voice in began to ring in the back of your head.

They deserve this.

The voice awfully sounded like you.

“You deserve this.” You said towards the both of them. Sam, despite his pain and being the rationale of your relationship, took notice of how your voice didn’t sound like you. It was you, you were speaking, but another voice, much darker and lower, was speaking for you.

The boys felt your fingers wrap around their chin, lifting them without much hardship. Colby’s watering eyes widened at your different eye color.

He wasn’t able to focus any further when he felt yet another sharp on his neck. “Focusing on useless things, you tend to do that, don’t you, Colby?” Instead of just the new voice, your real voice began overlapping with it. Somehow, it doubled the fear the boys were feeling for the first time again.

“As for you, Sam, you think you control this relationship, don’t you? Having made the first move on me, I can’t blame you if you did.” You chuckled. “Oh, how long I’ve been wanting to tell you this,” You inched closer to the boy, ghosting his sensitive sense of hearing on his now pointed ears. “You never were.”

You simultaneously let them both go and immediately grabbing a fistful of Sam’s hair. “You’re always one to talk. Better make that tongue to good use.” Without much warning, you placed two of your fingers inside him. “Suck.” You ordered.

Sam couldn’t do anything but comply, licking and sucking every inch of what you gave him. The pain in his heart was lessening by the second, making his actions more messy and desperate. Colby looked over at your lustful expression as you watched Sam, feeling his pants tightening at the sight.

“You never left me alone when I’m soaked,” Despite your distance from him, Colby heard your voice against his ear, making shivers run down his spine to his penis, pre cum staining his pants. He could feel your chuckles on his bare neck. “Don’t worry, baby, I won’t be doing the same thing you.”

With half lidded eyes, Sam watched as you reached over to Colby, his demon tail immediately wrapping itself around you, as if guiding you to where you should be. You clicked your tongue, making both of them wince in pain at your displeasure. “Still trying to take control?”

You could hear Colby mumbling ‘no’s under his labored breathes along with Sam’s muffled ones, knowing what’s coming. You retracted your fingers from the blonde boy’s mouth and stood up.

“Look at me, Colby.” Your voice was gone again, voice void of any emotion but command. As soon as he did, he groaned in pain and pleasure as your feet lands on his hard on. The heels you were still wearing from the club stabbed on every part of him, his whines of pain slowly turning to a mix of his moans.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He gasped as pushed your heels even further, “Please, it hurts so much. It hurts,” Tears, which was something you’ve never seen come out of the both of them, began falling down on his scaled cheeks.

You remained unfazed, eyes glistening in excitement. Was it even you?

“Hurts more than getting choked?” You taunted and Colby immediately shakes his head. “If anything, you’re luckier than Sam. I like it when I’m being fucked and losing my breath.” Which both Sam and Colby knew all too well.

Speaking of, your eyes moved towards to Sam who was pathetically palm himself beside Colby. It almost made you wanted to laugh that this was the same man that stalked you, hunted you, and claimed you.

“God, you look good like this.” You smirked, grabbing his chin once again and pulling his head towards yours. Your lips move in a familiar rhythm, only this time you were taking the lead of exploring every inches of the boy’s mouth. Your tongue grazed his sharp canines, purposely piercing yourself to let blood run. Sam’s eyes widened, eyes glistening.

“You’re so spoiled.” You said as soon your lips parted ways with his, wiping the blood residue on your mouth and watched as Sam immediately started to lick it if off of your thumb.

“I’m gonna– fuck, fuck, I’m–“ Colby moaned as his hips grinds against your stilettos. He tried to chase his high but you removed your legs before he could, making him groan in pain. “No, no, please.” He cried, more tears spilling down from his darkened pupils.

You had to step back to look at the mess you’ve created. Sam was in his own high as the smallest amount of your blood intoxicated his entire being, leaving his pants severely damped while Colby couldn’t even move in inch from how painful you left him, something in him refusing to cum if it wasn’t against you.

You ran your fingers in your hair. “Ah, fuck— this definitely gave my energy back.”

Their eyes made contact with yours and they could see your natural eye color mixing with your new one. Colby, being a demon himself, knew what’s happening.

Because of your lack of blood, your own blood, and your humanly essence he’s been selfishly taking, a demonic spirit strong enough to conquer one and an ancient vampire made its way to your weakened self and made itself feel at home inside you.

That also meant this dynamic, these invisible chains you’ve placed on them, wouldn’t disappear any time soon.

#colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock imagine #sam and colby #sam golbach imagine #sam golbach x reader #sam and colby x reader #vampire!sam golbach #demon!colby brock

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hoardingpuffin · 1 year

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Autistic Person rates Autistic Characters in Media

In this post, I will be rating some autistic characters in media (specifically TV and movies) based on how well represented I feel by them as an autistic person. Keep in mind that this is thus a subjective list since autism is very individual and no two autistic people will have the same experience or opinions. I would also like to add that I am what would be considered a Low Support Needs autistic person, seen that I can generally live without too much assistance or accommodations, which means that my experience is going to not be relatable to autistic people with higher support needs than mine. On that note, also please keep in mind that “low functioning” and “high functioning” are harmful labels and that they are not the same as “low support needs” and “high support needs”. Also, obviously, since this is subjective, I am not saying that nobody else on the spectrum can’t like or relate to any of these characters; this is my own opinion, not a purely objective rating. Finally, whilst I will be rating these characters on a scale of 1 (worst) to 6 (best), I will not be ranking them in this post.

This list includes characters that are explicitly named to be autistic or that are widely accepted to be autistic, for example because the creators or actors confirmed it in retrospect or because the canon very strongly implies it and the creators have not spoken out in denial of it. Also I can obviously only rate the media I have actually seen so if your favourites aren't on this list, this is why.

CONTENT WARNINGS THAT APPLY: mentions of antisemitism (briefly), mentions of Autism Speaks, mentions of ableism, mentions of an autistic male character acting creepily towards women.

I will be signalling Pros/positive points with a + sign and Cons/negative points with a – sign.

Dr. Isidore Latham (Ato Essandoh) – Chicago Med (2/6)

- “curing autism” theme in the episodes centric on his personal experiences

- usage of the outdated and antisemitic term “Aspergers” over “Autism” (this is especially harmful considering Dr. Latham is Jewish)

+ Black autistic representation (which is rare seen that most autistic characters tend to be White) and Jewish autistic representation

+ whilst Dr. Latham is shown to not be the most social man and to be very direct, he isn’t outright rude or unprofessional

- as far as I could find out online, the actor is allistic (it is always better to cast a disabled actor for a disabled role)

Dr. Shaun Murphy (Freddie Highmore) – The Good Doctor (0/6)

- the show collaborates with Autism Speaks, who are known to be a hate group not actually looking to help or listen to autistic people

- allistic actor

- extremely stereotypical in its portrayal (extremely antisocial, no friends, always literal, no social awareness – even though autistic people struggle with allistic tone patterns, usually they would be able to pick up at least somewhat what other people consider rude behaviour and would try to avoid it, something Shaun never seems to do)

- transphobia from the one autistic character, implying directly that autistic people are unable to understand the concept of a transgender identity (when in truth, studies show that many people on the spectrum also often identify as not on the gender binary or as transgender)

- Autistic Savant trope (portraying autistic people as geniuses when in fact, less than 5% of all autistic people are a Savant and even if we are very interested in a topic such as medicine, we still need to learn and study just as allistic people)

Abed Nadir (Danny Pudi) – The Community (4/6)

+ writer of the series is on the spectrum

+ PoC autistic representation

+ whilst not clearly being labelled as autistic, the character is recognizable as an autistic person without hitting all the stereotypical tropes such as being antisocial, never joking, always being literal or being a “genius” without ever studying etc. - allistic actor

- whilst generally not labelling a character as autistic is not a bad thing, it makes it harder for autistic people to definitely say “this character is autistic”, meaning that allistics can ignore the coding if they wish to cling to their own, often stereotyped idea of what autism “looks like”

Dr. Alfred Jones (Ewan McGregor) – Salmon Fishing in the Yemen (3/6)

- allistic actor

- stereotypical, but not as badly as other portrayals

+ avoids the trope of autistic people not having emotions, instead showing Alfred’s struggle expressing and understanding tone and emotions

+ generally good portrayal of a special interest being made part of the life via the job (salmon and fly fishing)

Music Gamble (Maddie Ziegler) – Music (0/6)

- creator Sia has openly shown ableist behaviour, putting down autistic people, not listening to autistic voices and criticism etc.

- allistic actress

- collaboration with Autism Speaks

- extremely stereotypical portrayal and infantalization of autistic nonverbal people

- harmful techniques such as restraining being shown on screen

- graphic meltdown scenes being shown

Sam Gardner (Keir Gilchrist) – Atypical (1/6)

- allistic actor

- in-universe infantilization of autistic people (via Mother Elsa)

- having the autistic character act dangerously, for example locking someone in the closet because they annoy him or borderline predatorily pursuing his therapist, sheds a harmful light on autistic people

- as far as is known, no autistic people were included in the production or writing process

- many instances show autistic-related habits or traits, for example wearing noise cancelling headphones, but frame it in a way that the audience is supposed to find it funny or laugh at the protagonist

- instead of making Sam sympathetic, he is largely just shown to make everyone around him uncomfortable

+ the ongoing portrayal of Sam’s special interest is generally well-done

- an ongoing theme is Sam’s girlfriend Paige restricting his info-dumping and by extension his special interest (something autistic people get active joy from) to three “dumps” a day so he can act “more normal” – this might teach allistic viewers that this is something they can do to their autistic friends

Sara Eriksson (Frida Argento) – Young Royals (5/6)

- usage of “Aspergers” both in the show and by the actress

+ actually autistic actress

+ autistic traits like mirroring, struggling with social context or tone and directness/bluntness as well as a special interest (horses) are shown whilst tropes like Sara being entirely unempathetic, rude and antisocial being avoided

Isadora Smackle (Ceci Balagot) and Farkle Minkus (Corey Fogelmanis) – Girl meets World (2/6)

- usage of “Aspergers”

- the original title of the episode centric on autism was “Girl Meets Normal”, implying autism is something abnormal, which is a potentially very harmful rhetoric

- autism is shown as something bad, with Farkle’s friends actively trying to fight over him being not autistic, insisting he is “normal”, generally treating autism as something they don’t want their friend to be associated with – a very harmful take in a show for kids and young teens

+ Smackle is a major, long-term autistic character rather than a One Episode throwaway character, even though she is generally quite stereotypical (but given that this show generally has every character act over the top and often fitting in specific categories this is not as bad, it just makes her fit in the framework of the show; she is not the only one who is largely stereotypically portrayed)

+ actor Ceci Balagot is themselves autistic (according to their twitter that is)

Renee (Madison Bandy) – Loop (6/6)

+ PoC nonverbal autistic character portrayed by a nonverbal autistic voice actress

+ in production, an active effort was made to make the actress feel comfortable, so that her experience working on the film would be accommodating and positive rather than unnessicarily stressful

+ generally very well-done portrayal of both sensory seeking and sensory overstimulated behaviour and the experience as an autistic person

Matilda (Kayla Cromer), Nicholas (Josh Thomas) and Drea (Lillian Carrier) – Everything is gonna be okay (6/6)

+ autistic actors playing autistic characters and autistic writer

+ very realistic portrayal of autism and how it differs in different people, as well as how it can affect interpersonal relationships (also having the sister mention that she thought she understood autism as a whole but later realized she only understood her sister's autism specifically because it is so individual)

+ realistic portrayal of sensory overload, stimming, communication between different autistic people etc.

+ queer autistic people – gay and asexual autistic main characters

+ autistic people joking, showing emotions, humour without the autistic people being the butt of the joke

+ empathetic portrayal of an adult realizing they might be on the spectrum and the denial and questioning that comes with that

+ portrayals of autistic special interests and autistic joy

Quinni (Chloé Hayden) – Heartbreak High (5.5/6)

+ autistic actress playing an autistic character

+ autistic queer representation

+ themes of ableism are included but dealt with sensitively and without making the ableism seem harmless

+ realistic portrayal of stimming, struggle with abrupt change of plans, overstimulation, meltdowns, autistic joy, info dumping etc.

+ autistic character having genuine friendships and friends who support her and know her sensory needs etc.

- because it is set in high school, this is a very specific group being represented so it is possible that the largest part of the autistic community won’t see themselves completely accurately portrayed, but chances are they can relate to Quinni nonetheless at least in aspects.

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tac-bat · 1 year

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Why I love How Sky Portrays Death

Before I start, I go into detail about death and loss, and description of the afterlife and dying and examples of it in sky and a little mention of religion irl.

I wrote this while sleep deprived if this makes no sense, i'm not sorry

Take this all with a grain of salt as this is purely my observation and interpretation

To many, death is scary, unpredictable, and inevitable. Death is frightening because it represents the end of life, the loss and grief it brings, and the uncertainty of where we will go. Every religion has its own version of the afterlife, from our soul moving to a new body, places ranging from rewarding good and punishing evil, to simply being nothing. Death is scary because we'll never truly know what lies beyond or what awaits. It's complicated ,heavy, and it's something that many have delved deeper into too. I only bring this up because the sky not only answers, but embraces death. How? Let's take a look.

Orbit

Sky's interpretation of the afterlife is perfect. "All are given breath by starlight," as stated in the intro mural, everyone ends up back in the stars someday, becoming spirits that travel to this small part of the galaxy. They even seem to become one with the light and stars if they so please. And it's relaxing; it's soothing.

They know it exists.

Spirit's have shown from the beginning of the game that they can descend and ascend whenever they please. See all TS's, Grandma, and event spirits like Yeti, who appear briefly during Feast to cast a snowman spell before ascending. According to this logic, orbit is widely known because ancestors were bound to descend to explain what happens. And spirits aren't gone from their loved ones' lives; they're still present. They're not gone and can visit anytime they like; it's not hard for me to imagine them visiting others during holidays and events.

Gravestone's

In every social space, there are gravestones for every base-game ancestor. What's interesting is how they're laid out; unlike regular graveyards, which are organized in a line, none of the graves are uniform, some being lengths apart. This is very clear in Prarie, with one near the closet and another nestled in a cave; even irl graveyards that are less uniform don't tend to put burials that far away, but Sky does. It almost seems like an ancestor could've possibly chosen the placement themselves. You also have the special burial site at the 8-player door, a working elevator and all, the graves have their own little buildings and stones draped in gold, implying a ceremony as we know. Not only that, but Valley's way of honouring death is extremely interesting.

Let's talk about Samekh's temple

Valley really demonstrates how death is viewed—not in a morbid way but in an honourable way. The hallways of both races are lined with gravestones, with the exception of some open spaces. When compared to decorations such as the eight-player door, the gravestones themselves are painted in gold. They're unlike any graves seen so far, and you can argue that these were reserved for champions, and if so, I feel like the halls would be packed considering this is the valley of triumph, but no, there are still a few open spaces. Which makes me adore how there are gravestones in the twin's temple.

Their temple is the only one that not only has gravestones inside, but is lined with them! And considering their position and how we know they play a big role in the sky as leaders, to the point where they have a temple, it makes the fact they share it as an ancestor's final resting place so heartwarming to me. They were under no obligation to place gravestones; they could have dragged the banners down, added more statues, or even designed something similar to Daleth's temple like the murals we see, but they didn't. They allowed the room with their shrine to be a graveyard, they value their people's lives; they regard it as an honour, and whether those are the graves of champions or ordinary people, they value them all the same.

And it still hurts.

Even in the sky, where the question of death is answered, it still hurts.

It hurts when Mindful and a Tearful miner witness the deaths of their friends, Tearful having to bury their own. It hurts when Teabrewer returns with herbs for their loved one who died while they were away, so much so that they become anxious when they leave anyone alone, as seen in their info card. It's horrifying to know how many ancestors died in the war with no way to escape, faced with the fear of death every day.

Death is still scary in Sky, and I love it for that. Even when you know where you'll go, you still value your life; you don't want to die, and you don't want to go. But when that time comes, when you choose to be one with the universe, or roam your home with your star-kissed body, you'll never be alone. And that's why I adore the way death is depicted:

Because it's bittersweet.

#i spent way to long on this but head full #head very full #sky cotl #sky children of the light #skyblr #valley twins #valley elders #valley of triumph #daylight prairie #sky spirits #death mention #tw death #sky: cotl #sky: children of the light #tac rambles #tac art #?

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project-sekai-facts · 10 months

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have you seen that theory about vbs not being the original owners of their sekai, and if so what are your thoughts about it?

i stared at this post for a few minutes wondering if you were talking about a post that was written by me and then i checked twitter and a post about RADder being the original owners popped up on my fyp so i'm assuming that's what you're talking about (also i realised that my post is. still in my drafts).

i go full pepe silvia under the cut. uh. sorry.

yeah anyway i do agree with that theory. kinda. The Street SEKAI is mentioned multiple times in the initial cards to have been around for a while, though this could be referring to the fact that SEKAI take time to grow before they manifest fully to the owners (think about School and Wonderland SEKAI, which probably took years to reveal themselves). But it could also imply that someone else contributed to the SEKAI before VBS. I actually talk about the theory briefly in that first linked post, so we'll continue from there.

so I don't think it was RADder. And yeah basically my only reason is that they're too old. MEIKO was released in 2006, considering the only date mentioned in the game is (Autumn) 2021, this is after An was born, when RADder was already pretty successful. Also we don't know enough about SEKAI physics to confirm this, but Miku seems to be more important than MEIKO so maybe space-time wasn't broken until 2007, and RADder is probably even more successful at that point because of the CDs they recorded when An was a baby.

the SEKAI just doesn't work in the time frame. What we know is that the Street SEKAI was formed by dreams and aspiration. Which is kinda the case for most SEKAI but Street SEKAI was more specifically formed by the passion its creators have for these dreams. and while RADder had big dreams to be top musicians in the world and was passionate about that, they were like realistically never gonna achieve that, but also they were at a point where they were doing very well and were very successful and on their way there. they didn't really need the help from Miku as much as VBS needs it.

Now the way Nagi talks about some things in Light Up the Fire definitely could be read a certain way, especially when she talks about passing on RADder's dream to the kids in the audience at RW, but I still don't think RADder being the original owners entirely works. Honestly the easiest point to argue for that claim is that the Street SEKAI has a very strong attachment to RAD WEEKEND, which on the one hand could be part of the fact that Taiga very clearly never moved past it and never fully processed the death of his sister, but it makes a lot more sense to be a trait tied to the people who aspire to surpass it. also MEIKO outright says that's why the attachment to RW is there in her initial 2*.

However,

I don't think it's entirely out of the question for some of the other side characters to have an influence over the Street SEKAI. As I've mentioned, the SEKAI has a strong attachment to RW, and all of them have the same goal of surpassing the event. Also the 4 older VSingers in the SEKAI (MEIKO, KAITO, Luka, Miku) all takes traits from the members of RADder. Which makes a lot of sense for the main mentor figures in the SEKAI to be based on the people that the kids look up to.

youtube

There is an argument to be made though that they gave up on their dreams to easily. In LUTF, Taiga decides to crush all their dreams and Tatsuya (+ his group), Arata and Kotaro all leave, like, they just give up while (an admittedly very shaken) VBS sticks with their dream.

Tatsuya and EVER leave because all this time they'd been just carrying on until they eventually saw victory, but after taking a beating from Taiga, they realised that there's some things that you won't be able to overcome and give up.

Arata leaves because even though he has skill, Taiga was able to get through to his weakness - Souma. Taiga realises that Arata has experienced a similar loss and grief to he did, and although Arata is trying to carry Souma's dream on his behalf, Taiga knows from experience that Arata is just clinging on to Souma's dream as a way of coping with his loss, rather than actually trying to uphold it (basically he calls him selfish). Arata isn't able to argue back, feels a lot of guilt over that, and leaves.

Kotaro is like. particularly interesting and also most eligible for Miku therapy. He's genuinely really scared and overwhelmed by Taiga's challenge, and gives a poor performance when he has to stand up to him, and straight up gets called shit and weak by Taiga and the audience. Dead serious. Afterwards he literally has a breakdown, calls himself an idiot for not being able to sing and then goes on about how he's shit at everything and apologises because should've given up ages ago because all he's ever done is drag everyone else down before literally running away and DAMN do I hope he gets development on that in the Toya event.

all things considered i'd honestly say that all of them to some degree could've contributed to the formation of the SEKAI, Souma included (honestly he seems the most passionate about it even though he was forced to give up). all of them were passionate about it but then there's always the fact that they all gave up really easily, although they were reluctant. that said, toya did the same thing in the main story so...

Although,

There's still an argument that the Street SEKAI was just formed by the four of VBS, and Kohane was just the final piece of the puzzle that made it reveal itself. Three passionate people who are wholeheartedly devoted to their dream and one ordinary girl who wants to do something that she can dedicate herself to and feel passionate about. inverse MMJ if you will. fate is probably canon in project sekai also like i've mentioned this a few times before so that could play a part in all this.

but come to think of it, the sekai doesn't even reveal itself to Akito and Toya until really late in the main story. supposedly they still heavily influenced it but that's a bit... odd? don't you think? like the only other times that happens is N25 and WxS, wherein the SEKAI was made by only one person and let the others in later, but this was a SEKAI that was supposedly made by all 4 of them. so if you think about it hard enough, could the street sekai maybe do that again?

Also,

Nagi is very important to the VBS story and lore despite the fact that she was very obviously written in much later in development. Going back to the fate thing, at RW she states that since RADder is over and she's over, she now has a new dream, that being that she wants the next generation to be inspired by what they achieved and carry on their legacy. While when she says that, she's talking about An and Akito in the audience at RW, it's stated multiple times that the "next generation" includes all of VBS, and all the side characters. so yeah, the fate thing. I doubt the game will ever do anything about it since they're side characters, but I think it can be argued that they contributed to the SEKAI a bit.

i wrote this in so many increments and in the wrong order and now it lacks any cohesion whatsoever and i have no idea what i'm even saying at this point and i think i sort of proved it and disproved it simultaneously but like. yeah. it's an alright theory. i have some thoughts on it.

#project sekai spoilers #theory #mod talks #asks #part of this may or may not be copypasted from an essay i wrote on another blog so if any part of it seems familiar shhhh no it doesn't

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underratedandoverit · 9 months

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some things never change

908 words chuck taylor/trent baretta (implied, can be read as gen)

death before dishonor changed me on some level. my first time with these boys like this so like. be kind to me. takes place post their title match (i also know oc was there but shh lemme have this)

its proofread and edited now, i dont think its terrible but be mindful that i wrote this in an hour of frenzy at 6am originally lmao

hurt/comfort. mild warnings for trent having stitches, theres mention of blood, chuck has issues liking himself and trent says shit once

@midnightpretenders0 @stormbornpirate

on ao3

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Chuck had remained silent the entire time they had been sitting in the trainers room after the match. There had been too heated of a moment at ringside when the match ended for them to notice it, but when they got backstage someone had kindly pointed out that Trent had gotten cut at the brow at some point, so they were escorted to see the doctors, whether they wanted it or not. Chuck insisted that he was okay, apart from some mental wounds from yet another loss, only being worried about Trent right there and then.

As was tradition it seemed, Trent insisted on being okay, but complained the entire time he was being taken care of. Being walked to the medical, having to sit there, while they were cleaning up his wound and washing his face off of the excess blood, while he was being stitched up. Chuck watched all of this happen, not intervening, letting Trent get it out of his system.

When they were finally free to leave to get back to the locker room, Chuck just quietly accepted the ice packs from the trainers that Trent had left behind, knowing that he would bitch about leaving them behind later. Trent was clearly in a hurry to get out of there, being frustrated with the whole situation, which Chuck didn’t blame him at all about.

To be honest, Chuck only blamed himself for all of this. Even if it was indirect, he was the one that brought the team down by not being there to help Trent by breaking the pin, effectively causing them to lose the match. Not to mention since he wasn’t able to properly protect his partner, he had been bleeding by the end of it all.

Trent kicked the locker room door open, Chuck being kind of irked over the fact that it was only the two of them in the Best Friends locker room that night. He honestly would have felt very much the same if they had gotten those titles in their possession and had their friends there to celebrate with them, just with the opposite situation.

But now Chuck had to deal with all of this by himself, when he wished someone more capable was around to handle the moment he didn’t feel like he was able to hold together for much longer.

Maybe the sigh he let out was a little bit louder than he intended, Chuck instinctively wincing as he saw the concern on Trent’s face following the sound as the other man turned to look towards him, stopping in the middle of his annoyed rant that Chuck hadn’t been listening to at all.

“What’s wrong?”

Chuck just shrugged, weighting the ice pack in his hands that he suddenly found more interesting than anything else in the room. “Just… Bummed about this. Losing, once again.”

Trent’s eyes narrowed slightly, knowing very well when his longtime tag partner was lying to him. Without saying anything he grabbed Chuck by the wrist, walking him to the couch and sitting him down, taking a seat next to him. Chuck didn’t resist, knowing full well that doing so was going to make him explain himself even further. At least this way he was able to try to mask the disappointment and self-deprecation he was currently feeling.

“This isn’t just about losing, is it?”

Chuck glanced at him, but didn’t say anything, avoiding looking at any clear features of Trent, eyes landing on his stitched up brow. He carefully lifted the ice pack in his hand and pressed it against Trent’s face, a small smile blossoming on his lips briefly as he sighed again.

“At least I’m good for one thing, huh?”

Trent remained silent for a moment, but it was obvious that the gears in his head were turning at the statement. “What are you talking about?”

“We lost the match. I couldn’t get back to the ring in time. Sorry about that.”

Chuck removed the ice pack from Trent’s face briefly, wincing at the line of stitches on his face before pressing the ice back against the wound. “And sorry about your face.”

“Dude, it’s not like it was you who made me bleed.”

He knew exactly what Trent meant, but it still wasn’t easy to hear and Chuck’s mind to accept. He looked away, feeling the guilt gnawing on him under his skin.

“Yeah… But I could have prevented that. And I didn’t.”

Trent looked at him, observed the clearly defeated demeanor of the other man for a while, before his hand reached for the ice pack and Chuck’s hand holding it, carefully pulling it off his face and lowering it down, taking the obstacle away from between the two of them so he could finally directly look at Chuck.

“It’s not your fault.”

Trent slowly peeled the ice pack from Chuck’s hand, putting it aside as he grabbed a hold of his hand, interlacing their fingers with one another with ease. Chuck slowly looked back at them, staring at their hands for a moment before he could feel Trent giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t care how many times we win, how many times we lose, how it happens or who’s fault it supposedly is. We’re best friends, dude. As long as we’re together, none of that shit matters.”

Chuck nodded, a small smile crossing his lips, followed by a soft chuckle.

“…Yeah. Yeah. Thanks.”

#drabble #character: trent baretta #character: chuck taylor #ship: chucktrent #aew fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction

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nomimits7 · 2 years

Text

The Egyptian God’s Prey | Finale

Title: The Egyptian god’s prey

Parings: Jimin x OT6BTS

Warnings: Swearing. Mention of death. Mention of Nazi’s. Inaccurate Egyptian’s history… I improvised. Mention of kidnap, kind of (he ends up stranded). Severe sunburn. Kind of incest ( The Egyptians gods sometimes married their siblings). Talk about death and killing. They open up about their past.

Summary: The boys finally come to the point where they try to find Jimin’s god. With a stroke of luck Khonsu is not exactly what they expected.

Chapter 14

The time has finally come to try and figure out how to unlock Jimin’s own god for good. The rest of the boys had no idea what he would look like or if he would even be happy about being unlocked. Heck, they might even never be able to get Jimin’s true power to come forth. Nun alone knew how much damage Jimins’ mothers schemes did to him.

The hardest part of this whole operation would be telling Jimin about his true nature first, and then failing. There is always the option of just trying and explaining things later, but that has risks of its own. What happens if his god decides to completely overrule Jimin himself? What if Jimin goes on a revenge streak??? How do you stop a powerful newborn god? Easy, you can’t.

Most people know of the mysterious city of Atlantis. Yeah, well let’s just say that one particular newborn deity had a few things to prove. They were there the day Atlantis disappeared. It was horrible to witness. It took more gods than they would ever care to admit to take that deity down. Noone dares to even speak of those events. Its a black spot in history that they would very much like to keep hidden from humans.

Back to the problem at hand. Everyone was gathered in Hoseok's room. It was the most comfortable place to be. Besides, Namjoon has never been in this room for more than a few minutes and everyone agreed that he at least needed to feel how soft the couches are. Jimin has made it his personal mission to assure that Namjoon stays comfortable. He was like a little koala. He refused to let go of Namjoon. That’s how Namjoon found himself almost dozing off. He has never felt this warm.

Taking a deep breath, Yoongi decided it was time to get rid of the everlasting tension they all could feel. He briefly made eye contact with the rest of the gods, receiving small encouraging smiles before he turned to the two cuddling on the other couch. Namjoon shifted slightly, forcing Jimin to sit a bit more upright. This also helped get rid of any sleepiness that could be creeping up on them.

“Jimin. There is one final deity we need to introduce you to” Yoongi began. Those words alone were enough to get Jimin's attention. He immediately sat up with excitement as his eyes sparkled with glee.

“Oh really? I thought there were only six of you in this house! Have you been hiding someone from me?” Jimin slightly teased as he looked at all of them for any indication of the answer.

“Well, not exactly. You see this god is someone you know very well. You might even have spoken to them before without even knowing it” Jungkook said as he nervously looked to the rest for support. Jimin was confused. Very confused by the pout he had on his face. “Okay? Um, can you give me a hint, or something?” Jimmin asked as he shifted into a more relaxed position next to Namjoon.

“He is the god of the moon. He is associated with youth and he is also seen as a traveller god. In his human form he looks extremely young. He has fair skin and the eyes of an angel, if they even existed. He is a master of dance. He is at his strongest when it is a full moon out. He is also the son of Mut and Amun” Namjoon answered as he watched Jimin carefully.

“I don’t understand what you are implying,” Jimin said wearily.

“Jimin, you are not who you were told to be,” Seokjin said. His gaze sad as he watched every emotion possible pass over Jimin's face. Jimin was quiet and that made all of them very nervous. There was no telling what was going through his mind at that stage.

Jimin, on the other hand, was stunned. He had a nagging feeling that he knew exactly what they were talking about, but he just could not make a definite connection. Jimin was slowly beginning to lose his mind. Of this he was almost certain. There is no way he could be anything other than a normal human. He would have noticed if he lived for more than an average lifespan of a human. Where were all the past records of him then? How did he forget them? No, they are wrong. They have to be.

“Jimin, we were there. We saw you in every lie of a life you lived. You even said we looked familiar a few weeks back. Hoseok was your history professor, Mr J. Taehyung was your principal, Mr Kim. Yoongi was his secretary, Mr Min. Jungkook was the psychology teacher and the driver, Mr Jeon. Seokjin was the doctor that took care of your mother, Dr Sj. I was Taehyung's brother. We saw you through every single decade you have lived through” Namjoon said with a hint of desperation.

“You- you brought me here?” Jimin said in disbelief. He was suddenly assaulted with a flood of memories that finally made sense. He finally knew why they felt familiar…

…“Ah, sure thing Mr Kim. Go right ahead” Mr J said, as cheerful as ever, only adding to the list of reasons why Jimin could hold his composure so well around the history teacher. This man just never knew how to stop smiling, did he? His blond hair made him resemble the sun itself, which did not help his case. Sometimes when you stare long enough, you can even get a glimpse of red hidden between those beautiful blond locks. He even once denied being close resemblance to the sun. Yet, the students still call him Mr Sunshine in the halls…

…“Jimin. I received some disturbing news this morning and it saddens me to have to be the one to inform you. Your mother has been sick for some time, hasn’t she? Dr Sj Kim called a few minutes ago. He said that when he went to give her a check-up, they could not find a pulse. She never woke up this morning. They tried to get her back, but sadly she was already gone. I am so sorry Jimin” Mr Kim said as he finally looked up from his hands… …“Mr Kim requested for you to go home and rest. He has taken it upon himself to make all the necessary arrangements for your mothers’ burial. She helped this school a lot more than most people know. He also said that he’ll ask his older brother to help sort out any issues that may arise. I have asked Mr Jeon to take you home. Good luck kid and I am sorry for your loss, just know, whatever is going on in that pretty head of yours isn’t true. It’s not your fault. And believe it or not, you aren’t as alone as you think” Mr Min said before leaving Jimin alone…

…On the way home from school, Mr Jeon listened to his rambling and even gave him a tight hug right before he left the teen alone. Mr Jeon was always a good listener, maybe it comes with his job as the school counsellor as well as being the psychology teacher…

…Mr Kim and his brother came by a few times to get all the arrangements in order. According to them they wanted to honour her memory or something…

Tears ran down Jimins cheeks as the memories flew through his very being. He could not believe that these people he had come to trust could have kept this from him. Jimin wasn’t even mad that they never told him that they were there when his mother died. No, Jimin felt betrayed by them. They knew what he could possibly be, yet they chose to remain quiet. Why? He did not know.

“Jimin, I know you think we kept this from you for sinister reasons but trust me that is not why we didn’t say anything until now. He needed you to get use to the idea of deities before we drop a bomb like this one. We knew you would need support if we were to tell you. Someone you could relate to. Would you have believed us if you hadn't seen us in our true forms first?” Seokjin pleaded. They were desperate to let Jimin see their side. Their intentions of not hurting him more than they already have.

Jimin knew he was right. He would never have believed them if they were to tell him that he was an ancient Egyptian god or something. He would have thought they were crazy. Heck he still thinks they are bad shit crazy for living in the fucking desert. He could see why they did things the way they did, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I know you don’t trust us any more, but please try to understand. He didn’t mean to keep it from you for any other reason other than making it easier for you to understand” Taehyung said as he leaned forward slightly. The good thing during this whole exchange was that Jimin was still clutching onto Namjoon. He has not made any move to get away, which meant he was hurt, but not to the point of distrust.

“I still trust you” Jimin whispered as he looked up to meet their eyes. They could see the hurt in them, which stung like a bitch.

“We’re so sorry Jimin. We’ll help you regain your lost deity. Even if it's the last thing we do. We are so sorry for all the hurt and pain you have suffered” Yoongi said as he reached out his hand to squeeze Jimin’s knee. Jimin could only nod as he basked in the feeling of being cared for. He never wanted to feel anything other than this ever again. All of the emotions finally caught up to Jimin and before he could even process what was happening, he was full on sobbing. He was crying (again) for everything he had experienced in this life. For every lie he has been told. For everything he could have had if his mother just made the right choice when she could.

“Let us try to help you, please” Namjoon whispered into Jimin's hair as he hugged the sobbing boy. Jimin could only nod as he was held. He was overcome with the feeling of deja vu, but he could care less. Taehyung and Namjoons hugs are more important than reasoning why he kept on crying in serious moments.

“Okay. Jimin we don’t know if this will do anything, but here, take these crystals. Apparently they can take away whatever is keeping your god locked up. I believe his name is Khonsu?” Hoseok said as he reached for the crystals. Jimin had a moment of clarity at that name. He knows that god. This is the same god he kept dreaming about. The one his mother only briefly mentioned.

…Jimin used to dream about Khonsu. Even if his mother never told him what Khonsu looked like, he knew exactly how he would look if Khonsu were to be blessed with Jimin’s looks. If Jimin had to describe his appearance, it would be in the lines of a mighty bull during the new moon. Powerful and fearless. Sometimes he even appeared as a young man with a sidelock, or long braid on the side of his head. Jimin always thought about growing out his hair, but he never actually did it. He would be the embodiment of the crescent moon’s light…

…Khonsu’s name meant ‘decider of lifespan’ linking him to time and sometimes even fertility. A concept Jimin really liked. Imagine being in control of someone’s life span, or even determining if they would have offspring or not. There was one aspect of Khonsu that Jimin kind of related to but hated seeing himself that way, Khonsu was seen as terrifying and violent due to his status of ‘new god’ and his arrogance that came with it. Jimin was arrogant, but he would never admit to it. Jimin often dreamed of Khonsu as a blood-thirsty deity that would help deceased kings find other gods and devour their hearts. He never hesitated to take what he felt he deserved. Much like Jimin himself. Minus all the blood and eating of hearts, Jimin kind of related to Khonsu on a spiritual level. That might explain why he dreamed of the god so often…

“I know this god. Mother used to tell stories about a moon god, but she rarely answered any of my questions. I also used to dream of him. Are you telling me that I have been seeing my deity part without knowing it? Isn’t he like a bloodthirsty god? The one that ate the hearts of deceased kings?” Jimin asked a little hesitant as he reached for the crystals.

“The humans described him like that, yes, but that was only because he was a fairly new god when the invasion happened. I don’t even recall ever meeting your god. That is how briefly he was known before all went to hell” Jungkook said as he watched Jimin take the crystals.

The moment of truth was upon them. Now they would hopefully be able to meet Khonsu. They already knew that they would let Jimin stay with them, regardless if this works or not. He was now theirs. They would teach him everything he needs to know about being a god. They would do what his mother was supposed to do. They would take care of him.

At first nothing happened. They could do nothing else but hold their breaths as they stared at Jimin. Carefully looking for any signs that something was happening. All they could see was a big ball of nothingness. It was kind of disappointing. They really wanted this to work. They all thought that that was it, until Jimin looked up.

Jimin’s eyes were glowing a bright blue. The air around them suddenly felt more charged than before. Jimin didn’t say anything as he kept on staring at seemingly nothing. It was fascinating to see, fascinating yet concerning. Jimin slowly got up and started making his way back to the balcony where he nearly fell to his death. The concern only grew as the rest could only follow. Each one of them were curious to see where this whole ordeal was heading.

Jimin on the other hand, was going into a trance. He felt as if he was locked in a room that played multiple movies at once. Each one was him in a different time and in each one he was dancing under the moonlight. He felt a sense of pride rise up in his chest as he watched in fascination how his previous lives all linked. His mother was also there. All of them had a few things in common. Him dancing and his mother forcing him to forget by taking him to another woman. Moneta.

Jimin could see it all. The deeds his mother did back in ancient egypt when he was an actual little boy. The fall of the entirety of Egyptian gods. The deal she made with Moneta. The lies she told him to keep him docile. The hurt he felt was quickly replaced by anger. How could she do this to him? How could she hurt her son just for her own greed? She deserved to die. Infact her death was a mercy.

Once everything came to an end, Jimin was face to face with Khonsu. His deity. His own reflection. Khonsu was magnificent up close. Jimin could feel how powerful Khonsu was. He had this air around him. If he were given the proper chance back then, he would have been one strong god.

Khonsu just stared back at Jimin. His eyes are just as blue as Jimin’s own. Without a word he began to move to a silent melody. He was dancing before Jimin. Khonsu, a deity, was dancing for Jimin. Jimin felt compelled to match his movements. They soon moved in tangent with each other. It was almost as if they were one. Every move Khonsu made, Jimin's body automatically followed. Every step Jimin took Khonsu followed.

The rest of the boys could also see their little dance. The only difference was that they could only see Jimin. They saw his movements as he moved across the balcony. They also could see the blue in his eyes shine brighter with every step. It was pretty clear that the dance was a duet, a duet that looked complete even with Jimin dancing alone.

Once the dance came to an end, Jimin and Khonsu's foreheads touched and Jimin’s entire body glowed as they truly became one. Jimin became Khonsu and Khonsu became Jimin. Before anyone else could react Khonsu stood before them. The moonlight danced around him as he slowly opened his eyes to look at the rest of the boys. A sense of excitement mixed with a slight pang of fear spread through each of the boys as they gazed at the deity. He was beautiful.

Khonsu observed them for a while before he bowed his head. His eyes held no hatred or anger as he kept on staring at them even with his head bowed. The rest could do nothing but bow their own heads in return. The moment felt strangely intimate but no one was complaining.

“Thank you” Khonsu said as he looked up again. In a blink of an eye Jimin stood before them. He was still slightly glowing as he gasped. He still looked like the same Jimin they picked up in the desert, yet he was different.

“I saw everything,” Jimin said as he reached out for them. Once again he had tears in his eyes. This time though it was tears of joy. He knew he was going to be okay this time. He finally found himself.

“We got you. Welcome home Jimin”

#BTS au #nomimits7 #bts ot7 x reader #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #Jung HoSeok #kim taehyung #park jimin #jeon jungkook #Egyptian AU #egyptian series #member x member #memebers only

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imkittyjustkitty · 2 years

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Kitty's Daily Pride — Day 8

prompt ; (gender) envy

pairings ; Ethan Green x Bestfriend!Reader

summary ; It's been more than a day since you've last heard from your best friend Ethan, or from anyone for that matter. Something's not right.

+ reader is gender neutral & no mentions of y/n

warnings ; none i think, reader's freaking out, its just kinda spooky but no violence or anything like that, although the death of many characters is implied/speculated

genre ; angst

word count ; 902

A/N ; are people noticing how obscurely my fics end up relating to the original prompt bc i am nsndfsjk, its okay though because im proud of this ! :D also im trying to include more queer aspects to the stories bc this is for pride after all, sometimes tho i just get an idea i like and run w it lmao !!

also i plan on writing a part 2/bonus little thing either today or tomorrow which i'll link here once i post it !!

do not steal, repost, or redistribute my work in any way.

The last time you’d heard from Ethan was one day, 2 hours, and 38 minutes ago. The longest you and Ethan had been apart or not messaged each other up until now was like 8 hours, at the very most a day. To say that you were worried would be an understatement.

It was just past 7 at night. The amount of times you'd tried to call Ethan's phone was astronomical, but every time you were met with an automated message, not even his voicemail message that you'd grown used to, which somehow made you even more worried.

It was 8:06 now. Not being able to reach Ethan (although you did still try every half an hour or so, just in case), you tried calling anyone else you could think of. The obvious choice was to call his girlfriend Lex, maybe the two of them finally got on their way to California and Ethan had just forgotten his phone, not a very likely occurrence but you were clinging to the theory like it was your lifeline. So you called her, quite a few times, maybe too many, but she never answered. If you weren't worried before, now you definitely were.

But it'll be okay, you hadn't even called his parents yet, so he was probably just with them. Maybe he was grounded and that's why he wasn't answering, right?

It was 8:41 now, and you called his parents, his dad first. You were gripping the phone so hard that your hands started to shake, the ringing of the phone echoing through your head as you quietly pleaded for Ethan's dad to pick up.

No answer. At this point the only thing keeping you sane, the only reason you hadn't completely lost it, was unlikely reasoning. You'd pulled out a scrap piece of paper with a list of names, and why they wouldn't have picked up, it gave you a feeling that was something like hope. So far your list read: Ethan - grounded, Lex - with hannah or maybe phone bill expired (?), Ethan's dad - at work ??

They were reasonable explanations, all things that on any other day you wouldn't so much as bat an eye at. All things that you wouldn't question were there not a pit of suspicion swirling through your stomach and anxiety aching your every bone. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

But if something was wrong, you had zero fucking clue on how to handle it. So what did you do? You continued to call people in the hope of reaching Ethan. This provided the only string that kept you tied to reality, holding onto the hope that the next person you called would explain everything and all would be back to normal.

9:01. You called Ethan's mother, a woman who you'd always relied on to pick up calls straight away. No answer.

9:13. You called Frank fucking Pricely, a person you'd met maybe twice, once when applying for a job at Toy Zone, and for the second time (which really didn't count), but who you'd seen briefly when picking Lex up from her job. And of course the asshole didn't answer your call.

You were running out of what little hope you had left, when you remembered perhaps the one other person Lex (and by extension Ethan) associated with. Your old shop teacher, Mr Houston.

9:34. You rang his number, listening to the dial, waiting for the inevitable 'the person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable' message. Once, twice, your phone rang, until...

It stopped ringing, and you were staring right at a screen where the call timer started counting.

You froze. You didn't want to of course, your whole being was begging you to just scream out all your questions, but your throat was blocked and your hands shook so much that your phone dropped right out of your hands. falling, falling until it hit the ground.

You heard a crack but couldn't bring yourself to look down.

"Hey there."

Your eyes widened.

A laugh crackled through your now half-broken phone speaker, "Don't be afraid."

Okay fuck that now you were definitely afraid.

"Who," your voice wavered, revealing just how terrified you were, whoever this was, they sounded eerily familiar, "Who are you."

"Mmmm good question..."

A knock on your bedroom door. Your body flooded with terror.

The door flew open, crashing into the wall, right of it's hinges, revealing a shadowed figure.

The figure was the same height as Ethan, the figure's hair looked just like how you remembered Ethan's to be, the figure stood like Ethan would, with a carefree appearance, hands in it's pockets as it grins at you. And that's what breaks the illusion, that sickening grin. It's the kind that screams ill intent, the kind that makes your blood boil and stomach churn.

That is not Ethan Green.

And now you know, Ethan's not coming back, you can feel it, the truth floats through the air, palpable and headache-inducing. No matter how many people you call desperately, no how matter how many dial tones ring through your phone, no matter hard you wish for this to all be some sort of fever dream.

The feeling you were trying so hard to hide under layers of conspiracy and empty hope is now flung in front of your eyes unwaveringly, Ethan's gone, and he's not coming back.

reblogs are appreciated so much !!

#ethan green x reader #ethan green x you #ethan green x y/n #ethan green angst #ethan green imagine #ethan green fanfiction #ethan green fanfic #hatchetfield x reader #hatchetfield fanfiction #hatchetfield universe #ethan green #black friday x reader #black friday fanfiction #black friday musical #starkid x reader #starkid fanfiction #🌈 — kitty's pride writings #i'll be a leading lady if i get my shot — my writing

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charlottecolas · 1 year

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gunshots

Gunshot samples, or gunshot sounds, to say it simply, are not uncommon in songs, particularly in popular music. They can be used for different reasons, and for different purposes. I want to briefly discuss this phenomenon by making a few necessary clarifications first.

I will note two things. One, this is not a “new” phenomenon, neither is it specific to popular music. As we saw in class, sounds of battles could be captured with drums, suggesting gunfire but this desire to include gunshots in music also occurred in classical music productions with canons shooting as the opening. Another thing to note is that I am not talking here of gunshot sounds mimicked and reproduced by singing, such as can be heard in Sinatra’s famous Bang Bang, but of real gunshot samples heard in songs.

Something that might be agreed upon is the powerful impact a gunshot sound will almost always necessarily have (whether heard in a song, but anywhere else too for that matters). Guns, today, and throughout time, are not an easy thing to remain indifferent to, as the concern for violence it necessarily implies, is one shared by society in general and as in the collective consciousness, gunshots will automatically be linked to death. For that reason, gunshots can be regularly used in songs, and can serve different purposes too. Most generally, such samples will serve to the dramatization and imagery/illustration of the song. A way to put the song at another level of reality, for whatever purpose that might be. (Some good examples I like: Better Off Dead by Bill Withers, Russian Roulette by Rihanna or Don’t Need a Gun by Billy Idol and many songs by Kendrick Lamar).

But most often as well, this need for a stronger sense of reality for the song is of course tied to a social purpose, a commentary. The choice to feature a gunshot is never accidental. Most often it relates in one way or another to the story that is being told, and which therefore is not only very somber but also deeply charged with meaning (as is the case, for example, with the songs mentioned above). Of course, another aspect of what has become a particular musical device is the political. For many songs, gunshots will be featured in songs denouncing violence, and in many others, gunshots samples will carry a political message such as can be found in songs aiming for gun control in the US. Here the political context for which gun discussions is a central point, will give a whole new dimension to these gunshot samples.

Some of the resulting effects, and that relate to the audience, of this use of gunshot samples in music, I believe are tied to popular music. We might argue that with mainstream music and a ‘dubbing down’ of audiences, who do not listen to lyrics anymore, this might be a way to ensure that the social-political meaning of the song does not get lost when reaching the audience as it is much harder not to pay attention to a gunshot in a song as it might be to its lyrics.

A question that some might raise too is linked to the desensitization that might result caused by the mainstream. Of course, that’s a long and on-going debate that takes place in a larger discussion which is not just about music.

And finally, another interesting phenomon is the potential negative reaction of the audience due to these sounds that can be shocking. An example could be the time when Eminem came under fire for using gunshot sounding-like-sounds during a concert which caused panic among the fans (although his team denied the sounds to have been gunshots, but a “loud boom” effect commonly used in concerts). Another example is a comment I read on Reddit when looking into what people’s opinion might be on gunshots in songs and which I thought was interesting.

source: https://edition.cnn.com/2018/06/11/entertainment/eminem-sound-effects-bonnaroo/index.html

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judehvyward · 5 years

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lady gaga vc: i’m still in love w judas Babey..... helo. nai again. i cnt rly write lana atm so! switched her out fr jude. some of u might kno him already bt if nt then here is his pinterest board to kind of get a feel fr his aesthetic or whtever n then u can find out mre abt him beneath the cut. like this or hmu fr plots!!

( cis-male ) haven’t seen JUDE HAYWARD around in a while. the DOUGLAS BOOTH lookalike has been known to be (+) WITTY & (+) PROTECTIVE, but HE can also be (-) SARCASTIC & (-) DETACHED. The 23 year old is a JUNIOR majoring in FINE ART. I believe they’re living in AUDAX but I popped by earlier and no one answered the door. ( nai. 22. gmt. she/ha. )

born in sheffield in england, bt they went back and forth between there n san fran a lot

jude was an unhappy accident. his parents never rly used protection bc they were super liberal n au naturel n believed in the pull out method bc… they were maniacs. bt then the one time they used a condom in an effort to b safety conscious it broke n hence…. jude was born

they just kind of ran w it bc they had such a passionate relationship tht they were like what the hell…. may as well! itll be fine we’ll learn to be good parents n love him like normal ppl do

spoiler alert: tht didn’t work out

they were ok to him like they weren’t super abusive or anything like that bt they just found him to be a massive burden n hindrance to their plans

they literally….. had sex all day every day n acted like a pair of teenagers. it ws a super weird/unhealthy environment for a kid to grow up in bc he literally had no role models or… guidance or…. anything rly. occasionally they’d joke around w him or pretend they even knew what grade he was going into but for the most part they just didn’t care one bit

they were both suuuuper into the arts. they’re both rly good sculptors bt they paint too n they actually own a successful gallery in san fran

as a result he grew up around a lot of creative n sometimes pretentious ppl. the friends of his parents were more present in his life than his actual parents bc they were always jetting off to diff countries to scout out new pieces fr their galleries n just have a gd time in beautiful places without…. the annoyance tht ws their son forcing them to b responsible n look after someone else. tbh some of his parents friends tht stayed w him while they were away were rly damaging too bt….i won’t go into that just yet. it doesn’t rly…need properly explaining bc jude never talks abt it anyway n it….is rather triggering so i’ll jst….leav it for now tbh fgkhdfgh. basically they just were not nice n jude had a lot of bad memories he keeps repressed

bc of how he ws raised he has a p cultured taste. he luvs classic lit n film n p much anything artsy. he can play piano 2 n sometimes gets rly high n thinks he’s mozart level gd at composing. i mean he’s gd bt… chill

personality wise he acts out sometimes bc he’s so frustrated. he tried rly hard to be someone his parents wld care abt by doing wild or stupid things so he’d hav funny stories to tell them n tbh sometimes it works n he gets them to laugh w him but it isn’t a parent/son bond n it never rly wil b. he’s rly sarcastic, sleeps around a lot bt isn’t particularly fond of actual dates except in rare cases, has an overflowing secret sketchbook n if he cares abt someone he’ll probably draw them n get rly defensive if they find out abt it fkjgdhfkj bcos he’s an independent boy without a sentimental bone in his body! or so he tries to pretend. pretty deadpan humour most of the time. luvs strange ppl tht keep him on his toes

he has rly bad insomnia so he like never sleeps fgjkhfgjkf he always has rly sleepy eyes n rubs them tiredly mid conversation. he smokes a lot of weed to try n compensate fr this n make him tired bt he still struggles a lot. he also… smokes a lot fr the sake of his depression bc hoo boy does he hav it bad! he’s tried a bunch of medications n none have rly worked bt u kno. he’s surviving

wld die to protect tha Wamen. once punched a guy fr bein disrespectful to queen n living legend frankie vigo. rly jst… does his best to b a gd guy bt sometimes fucks up mostly frm jst. thoughtless errors

king of bein an lgbt ally. experimented once n ws like :/ when guys jst… weren’t fr him. he genuinely ws disappointed over it n hs sighed at least seven times over the matter. when blake came out as gay he wore this shirt 2 support him. truly jst a strange little man w positive intentions

ummmmmmmm honestly idk i’m blankin on what else to say. ull find him smoking weed reading an american classic or gnawing at his thumbnail n getting charcoal smudges along tht dramatic model jawline. he’s p broody n scruffy n he’s mostly here fr a good time. o and he’s that guy that would die fr morrissey (in terms of…. his style bt he acknowledges tht he ws/is a pretentious twat) and all that stone roses the smiths the cure etc stuff music wise. hmu fr plots!!!!!! i’m down fr anything

#water:intro #depression tw #abuse tw #its never mentioned its only very briefly implied at one point #trauma tw #same w tht #i think thts all..... the tags he needs #or maybe #neglect tw #??? idk abt tht one bt throws it anyway

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marvel-trash-bin · 3 years

Text

Taking Risks.

(Not my Gif.)

Summary: Zemo gives you what he thinks you deserve. *Some TFATWS Ep. 3 Spoilers.*

Pairing: Zemo x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Smut for days baby. Dirty Talking, Possession, marking, Soft!Dom Zemo. 18+ Only.

Word Count: 4.2K

Tags: @greeneyedblondie44

A/N: Look we all know we're walking dangerous territory, simping for a war criminal. But Sugar Daddy Zemo got me feeling some type of way and also, Daniel Brüle is hot asf. Also, I don't actually know german so pls if it's off just blame google translate, I just have an insatiable language kink and I needed the pet names more than air itself. I thought about making this a chaptered fic, but I barely had the time to write this, never mind chapters of it before he likely fucks over Sam and Bucky next episode. Anyways, enjoy!

Here’s the thing.

You knew he was dangerous. You knew his past, the EKO Scorpion kill squad and everything with the Avengers, manipulating them and breaking them up from the inside. He was smart, unpredictable. You knew there was a very real potential that you could be hurt - or worse - if you went down the road.

And maybe, in a past life that would’ve been enough to stop you. But you weren’t who you used to be. You liked playing with fire now, inviting danger and chaos rather than straying from it. You had lived in - hid in, was more accurate - Madripoor for a handful of years now. You laid low, kept yourself under the radar of the Power Broker and those who worked for him. This way, no one bothered you and you could live fragments of a normal life, Trading and bartering to make a living. But living this way, like forgotten trash on a sidewalk, got old.

Maybe that’s why when you caught his attention, you didn’t shy away from it.

It had happened so fast. You were dancing, just intoxicated enough that the rubbing of strangers' bodies against yours was not just welcomed, but encouraged. So encouraged that when a new body, tall and firm behind you, took the place of another, you didn’t hesitate to back up into the warmth. His hands gripped your hips tightly, not stopping or guiding you, just resting. Turning your head slightly to see what your new dance partner looked like, you startled a little seeing the Baron.

Helmut chuckled, a low sound you felt rather than heard, and ducked his head down to speak into your ear, “You know who I am.”

You let your body relax back into his, feeling reckless enough to bless the menacing man with your flirtations, your head falling back onto his, “I’ve heard a thing or two.”

“And yet you trust me to hold you like this,” his hands flex on your hips, just hard enough to show the strength they hold, “Like a lover.”

You grab one of his hands, leading it down to your upper thigh where your knife holster sits, never once letting his hand leave your body.

“If I didn’t want you touching me, you’d know it, Baron.”

The gust of breath you felt against the side of your neck and the large hand gripping your thigh had shivers rolling pleasantly down your spine.

“You are far too beautiful to reside in these undergrounds,” he spun you around in his grasp, allowing you to get a good look at his face, “A woman like yourself should be treated with the most expensive riches, the finest wines. She should drain a man of his earnings.”

You laughed, not expecting the words that came from his mouth nor how handsome he was, even this close, “Point me to the man who’s willing.”

He smirked at you, but there was a smugness to it. A glimmer in his eye that suggested he had the riches and the desire to give you anything you wanted. You felt like you were drowning in his gaze, lost as you were under the heat of it. He looked somewhere behind you, pulling his eyes from you to nod once at whatever, or whoever, had stolen his attention from you. When they returned to you, the heat and desire were replaced with determination.

“It is with great regret that I must leave you, for now,” He captured your hand, bringing it up to his lips, the softness of them brushing lightly against your knuckles, “I can get you out of Madripoor, give you a life you deserve. If you meet me tomorrow morning, the airstrip.”

The world felt like it froze around you. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you. You couldn’t trust him. You Shouldn’t trust him. But as you stared into his eyes you saw nothing but honesty.

“And if I don’t?” You ask, just to buy yourself some time.

His hand travels up your arm, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger securely, “I will not pressure you. I’d leave you be, but the ghost of you would haunt me, schatzi.”

And with that, he was gone. Leaving you with nothing more than your thoughts, mentally preparing how quickly you could pack your things and leaving Madripoor behind. After all, you’ve always loved taking risks.

The next few weeks were a blur. Zemo was laying low, but his form of laying low was still luxury to you. It was private jets and upscale accommodations, not to mention that he was a man of his word. He spoiled you. Within three days of being in his presence, you had acquired a whole new wardrobe. Your suitcases - also new - were filled to the brim with the fanciest and latest fashion. You had rare jewels on nearly every piece of jewelry you owned. Maybe spoiled was an understatement. You’ve only dreamed of owning riches like these.

He had picked something particular for you to wear tonight, both of you making an appearance at some sort of party with some higher-ups. It was all laid out on the king-sized bed, a little black dress of sorts. It was short and sheer in its long sleeves, the sparkles in the fabric ensured that you would shimmer under any lighting. With a simple clutch, matching jewelry and a cropped, white fur jacket to keep you warm until you got to your destination. You looked good. You felt good.

He looked just as good. Sporting an outfit similar to the one you had met him in, instead choosing a dark red turtleneck to create a stunning relation between both your outfits. Nothing had happened between the two of you yet. Aside from lingering glances and innocent touches, he had been a gentleman. The chemistry was there, for sure. You were able to joke and talk with the man, matching his wit and charm every step of the way. And he loved it.

“Best behaviour tonight, schatzi.” He had said, low in your ear as you walked towards the venue.

You had smiled back at him, the perfect picture of innocence, “Always, Baron.”

And at the time, you had fully meant it. But you found yourself craving him. He looked too good, it honestly wasn’t fair. The way that ridiculous fur jacket draped over his shoulders, fostering a powerful ambience. And you knew he was faring no better himself if by the way his eyes were glued to your curves was anything to go by.

So, you decided, maybe you shouldn’t be on your best behaviour tonight. It’s not like you were making a scene or anything that would call too much attention. You were simply letting the alcohol take over your body. Whether that meant a hand on his thigh as you listened to the conversations around you, your fingers playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck or dancing a little too scandalously when you knew he was watching. You felt confident. And when you felt confident, you felt dangerous.

By the end of the night, you were teasing yourself just as much as you were him. You were pushing your luck, hands trailing a little too close to the bulge in his slacks, enjoying the way his facial features changed briefly in shock before settling back into that infuriating unmovable stoic impression. The last straw was you bending in front of him, having ‘dropped’ something from your purse. You only had to bend so much before the dress, as short as it was, had ridden up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your panties.

In an instant, he had you standing upright, thanking whoever he had been talking to for a wonderful night, tugging your dress back down to a respectable length and steering you towards the door by the back of your neck.

“That was not best behaviour,” he growled into your ear.

You giggled, despite the tight grip on your neck, “I was just having fun.”

He had done nothing but stare at you, eyes hard with a warning that had you rethinking your actions. You had forgotten, for a moment, that this man was not just someone to give you all the pretty trinkets you wore. He was a mastermind, a criminal mastermind at that. A man most deemed dangerous enough to be locked away.

“You have been bad tonight, kleine Schlampe.” He said once he had gotten you back to his car, away from the prying eyes and ears of the party guests, “You will spend the trip back thinking of ways to make it up to me.”

The words sent heat through your core, and you did exactly as he said.

By the time he had gotten you up to your accommodations, you had thought of thousands of different scenarios that could earn you forgiveness for your recklessness. You were uncertain if his words earlier had implied sexual favours, or if a simple, genuine apology was all he was looking for. However, once he had turned to you, the room door closing behind him and his eyebrows raised expectantly, you fell to your knees in front of him like it was second nature.

He chuckles darkly at you as he peels his gloves off, tossing them gently onto a side table nearby before letting one hand brush away the hair that had fallen in your face.

“Seems you are meine kleine schlampe indeed,” You had no idea what it meant, but fuck it sounded good coming from him. His eyes were hard and dark as he stared down at you, “If this is the path you’ve chosen to apologize, so be it. But not here, you are meine schlampe not a common whore. Get up. Go to the bedroom.”

You did as he said, quickly pulling yourself up to a standing position and walking to the designated room. The bed, so far, had only been used by you. He hadn’t wanted to push or pressure you into sharing a space with him. He understood that just because you decided to join him, didn’t mean you wanted to be with him. But tonight, you had decided, you wanted to give him your everything. You wanted to show him how grateful you were for all the gifts he’d given you so far. And if you couldn’t give him luxuries, you would give him your desire.

“So,” he began, nodding in approval at the way you resume your position on the floor in front of him, “Let’s begin with the basics.” As he talked, he rolled up his sleeves, doing so with precision, “Tell me, what exactly are you apologizing for?”

He commands every drop of your attention. There’s an aura to him that you had only previously caught a glimpse of. His eyes dark and locked onto yours, never once wavering. Waiting. Calculating.

“For teasing you.”

“And?”

You take a breath, shame flooding your core at the answer that sits on your tongue.

“For embarrassing you.”

There’s a pause. He cocks his head, gaze softening just a tad. He's quiet for several moments, analyzing your words. Your heart starts to beat a little faster at the extended silence, thinking you’ve done something wrong and you can’t keep up the eye contact. You duck your head, averting your gaze to his feet.

“Look at me, schatzi.” His voice is soft, but still with enough edge to make you listen.

Only once your eyes meet his again does he continue.

“That’s very sweet of you, to be concerned about my image. But make no mistake,” He steps closer to you, letting one hand cup your jaw, tilting it upwards. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, “You could never embarrass me,”

You dip your head, nipping softly at his thumb. He smiles softly at you, something glimmering in his eye, “I simply just don’t like to share what’s mine.”

Your breath leaves your body at his words and suddenly the need for him to claim you had you nearly vibrating in your skin. You watch, every muscle in your body clenched tightly, as he walks slowly over to the armchair in the corner, never once taking his eyes off you. He sits, legs parted, one arm draped off the side, the other rested so he could prop his head up.

“Proceed.”

Instantly, you make your way over to him. Once in front of him, you stand up on your knees, placing your hands on his knees and slowly sliding them up his thighs. They continue its upward motion, skimming lighting over the hardness in his pants and reaching to start on his belt. You make quick work of his belt and buttons, eagerly working his pants and briefs down. He chuckles above you.

“Mein Schatz, so eager to apologize.” He purrs, almost mockingly, hand coming down to brush the fallen hair away from your face.

Once you had him free, you took a second to admire him. Your legs clenched at the size of him. Not terribly big, but big enough to anticipate the stretch, the fullness. Your eyes flicked back up, looking up at his through your lashes, leaning in but stopping just before you could actually get your mouth on him. The hand that was previously fixing your hair was now clenched in it, messing it up again and forcing your head back suddenly to look at him properly.

“It would not be wise to tease me more than you have,” he warned.

A smirk spread across your features and you quickly realized how much you liked him like this.

Powerful.

Strict.

However, you knew you were on thin ice already. With that in mind, as soon as his grip loosened you licked a wide stripe up his length, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him fully into your mouth. The tension his body held melted the second your tongue touched him. His mouth dropping on a soft groan. His hand stroked your hair as you sucked, encouraging the bobs of your head, not forcing but guiding. You keep your eyes trained on his face, not wanting to miss a second of experiencing him like this.

He glows in the low lamplight of the room, the shadows playing across his features delicately. You like him like this too. Reduced to a heap of gasps and moans beneath the heat of your mouth. As you suck, your hands wander, up under the fabric of his shirt, nails dragging down his sides. He hisses at the pain, but doesn’t tell you to stop.

After a few minutes of your slow torture, he decides he’s had enough. His hand tightens in your hair, his movements becoming less gentle and more demanding.

“That’s a good girl, take it all for me.”

You do as he asks, taking a breath before taking him as deep as you can. He groans at the feeling, hips shifting a few times to test you before beginning to thrust in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches, but his eyes are on you and his thumb is tracing your bottom lip that’s stretched wide around his cock and you think for a second that you could spend eternity like this.

It’s not much longer before he pulls you off his cock, hand wrapping around his base tightly, “Apologies, schatzi. I am out of practice, and I fear I'm not quite finished with you yet.”

You laugh softly, voice rough due to your previous activity, “That’s okay, I don’t mind.” You insist, more than happy to let him finish like this. Whatever he wants.

He stops you before you can dip down again, standing up and taking you with him. For the first time, his lips are on yours. He overwhelms all your senses. His breath loud in your ears, his hands on your waist, his scent. His tongue slides against yours as he walks you forward, shedding his lower clothing as he goes. He only parts to give you an order.

“Turn around.”

As you do, he finishes undressing and it kills you that can’t see him. Just as quickly as the thought crosses your mind, it’s gone as you feel his hands at the top of your dress. He slides the zipper down, letting the fabric fall off your shoulders. You take the liberty of helping the sleeves the rest of the way down, the fabric falling down around your heels once you’ve done so. He hums behind you.

“Such beauty,” he whispers against your shoulder. His hands begin to wander, around your waist, up underneath the fabric of your bra, down to your thighs and ass. He chuckles, dragging your panties down enough that they too fall, forgotten at your feet, “I can hardly stay mad at you, liebling.”

Your head falls back onto his shoulders as he works your bra off next. You shiver, feeling bare and exposed before him. You want him more than you can express and you let your whole body fall back into his embrace, whimpering at the feeling of him, hard against the swell of your ass.

“Helmut,” you moan, one of your hands finding purchase in his hair as the other rests on one of his forearms.

“Tell me you’re mine, Schatzi. And I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I’m yours,” you say without hesitation, breathless as his hand dips between your legs, finding your clit. He hums, pleased at the arousal he finds there, “I’m yours. Only yours.”

He growls pulling his hand away from, “Lay back on the bed. I’ll be right back.”

You do as he says, positioning yourself in the middle of the bed. While you wait, you let your mind wander, listening to his rummaging somewhere in another room while your mind runs through everything you want him to do to you. At some point, your eyes must close because when you feel the bed dip, they open to see him crawling between your legs.

He’s done messing around, wasting no time before his face is buried between your thighs, hands maneuvering your legs so that they’re thrown over his shoulders, your heels crossing sweetly behind his head, no doubt scratching at his shoulders. Your breath leaves your body at the feeling of his tongue, warm and wet and fan-fucking-tastic. He alternates between dipping it in and out of your heat and flicking it against your clit. Your hand finds his hair, gripping it between your fingers and guiding his movements ever so slightly. His eyes don’t leave yours, spare for the few times he closes them to moan against you.

One of his hands move, leaving its place at your hip to sink two fingers into you. Your head falls back on a moan, back arching up when he crooks his fingers and finds your g-spot.

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand gripping the pillow behind your head as you feel your orgasm rush towards you, “Fuck- Wait, I-”

You can’t even feel embarrassed about how easily your body has reacted to him. Before you can warn him much more, you're falling over the edge. Your thighs tensing around his head, back arching in pleasure as you ride out your high. In this moment you belong completely to him, unable to think of anything else.

“So sweet for me, liebling.” He comments, hands rubbing up and down your calves as you come down, taking a moment to unfasten your heels, letting the shoes drop to the floor before leaning back in. His lips brush against your inner thigh.

Then a bite.

“Such pretty sounds you make for me.”

And then he’s sucking harshly at the skin there, watching the shudder that rips through your sensitive body at the sensation. He doesn’t pull away until the mark is dark and flush against your skin. He continues this on the other thigh, on your ribs, your breasts and finally your neck, marking you thoroughly.

“Mine.” He growls, hot against your ear, “Mein schatz, will you let me have you?” he asks, and it’s literally all you can think about so you don’t even bother hiding the truth, the confession tumbling from your lips breathlessly.

“I’d let you do anything to me.”

He groans, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as he does so. He pulls away to grab the condom that he had put next to him on the bed and leaning back on his haunches to roll it on. You’re so impatient, nails digging into his thighs and arms, whining as you watch his hands work.

“So needy,” He comments, swallowing your moan as he finally, finally, sinks into you.

The stretch as he enters you has your head rolling back on a moan, your legs wrapping around his waist the bring him the rest of the way in. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, growling against the skin there.

“Fuck,” he groans through gritted teeth, his resolve quickly slipping at the feeling of you around his cock. And to his credit, he really tries to wait, to be good. But not seconds later he’s adjusting his grip on your hips and he’s thrusting into you with a force that makes the whole bed shake.

It’s barely been 30 seconds, but the build-up that had occurred throughout the entirety of the night had you right back on the edge, your nails clawing at his shoulders, his back, his thighs. Any purchase you could get on him, you were begging for more. You’d take anything he gave you without so much as batting an eyelash. His grip on your hips is tight and bruising, but the pain twists into a delicious pleasure that only spurs you on.

You must be speaking, babbling something back to him about how good it feels, how much you love being fucked by him because he’s laughing through a moan against your neck. He pauses for just a second, straightening up and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder before continuing to fuck you.

“That’s it Kätzchen.” He purrs, eyes moving down your body to where he enters your body, “Taking my cock so well.”

You mewl at the praise, your body arching in response to his words. Your second orgasm takes you both by surprise, having hit you like a fucking freight train when he thrusts particularly deep, hitting one of your sweet spots. You scramble for purchase on him, mouth dropped open in a near-pornographic moan that you’ll surely be embarrassed about later. But for now, all you know is pleasure.

His hips falter, stuttering as your walls tighten around him. His head falls back on a low moan, fucking you hard and slow through your release.

“Such a sweet cunt,” he gasps, “Mein Gott..”

And then he’s tangling your hands together, holding it high above your head as he pushes your thighs back, flush against your chest. He’s the one babbling now, words from God only knows what language, whispered against your skin as he chases his own release. He gives one last hard thrust and he’s done, his teeth dragging against the skin on your shoulder, moaning against you as he rides out his orgasm.

As you both come down, you stroke the back of his neck, playing with the hairs there, trying to catch your breath. After a few moments, he pulls away just enough to kiss you. There’s a lingering heat and it’s a little messy due to your shared exhaustion but it’s good.

Once you’ve both caught your breath, he removes himself from your body, taking the necessary time to deal with the condom. You watch him lazily, unable to do much other than that. You’re so tired. But there’s that ache between your legs that you love so much and you think briefly that you could go another round, if he wanted to.

He must see something in your eyes when he returns because he laughs softly, “I feel I may have my hands full with you, schatzi.” he says as he crawls back into the bed with you, covering the both of you with a blanket, the cold now biting at your skin. You know you have to get up soon enough to sort yourself out before bed, but for a moment you stay with him.

His fingers brush over your face softly, following the slope of your nose and the angle of your cheeks. There’s no real purpose to his movements, just... touching. As if convincing himself that you’re real.

“You are special, schatzi.” he says softly, “I don’t know what your plans are, but I can only hope that you choose to continue to bless me with your presence.”

This man is such an enigma to you. He carries such confidence in every aspect of his life and yet he still doubts your loyalties. There’s anxiety and pain hidden within him, you can see it in his eyes as he continues to look at you. You wonder, how much of his past weighs on his shoulders. How long before he deems himself worthy of your affection? You lean in to kiss him softly, your lips dragging slowly against him. When you pull away you keep him close, brushing your noses together.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

#helmut zemo #zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #sugar daddy zemo #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #marvel #mcu #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #smut

3K notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Initiative - aka NMJ and JYL get engaged - ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

Nie Mingjue was always glad for an excuse to leave a boring political meeting, although he was surprised that Jiang Yanli had been bold enough to send a note requesting his immediate presence before they were married.

Certain jibes had been made at his expense by his fellow sect leaders, of course, but he had shrugged them off. Let them think him overly indulgent; what did he care? He enjoyed having someone to dote on when he had the chance, and anyway he didn’t think Jiang Yanli would ask him to come out so quickly over nothing – though it was interesting she asked for him to join her, rather than asking for her brother.

“Mistress Jiang?” he said, walking into the room in Jinlin Tower where she was waiting for him. Her posture was tense, her hands clutched together under her sleeves. “What’s the matter?”

“Do you know where the Wen sect survivors were sent?” she asked. “It’s a matter of – some urgency. If you don’t know, we’ll have to find out another way.”

We, he thought. Wei Wuxian, no doubt, since Jiang Cheng was still inside the hall, enduring the politics that came with any meeting between sects. And Wei Wuxian did not, generally speaking, have the best ways of figuring things out.

“The Jin sect has not shared that information publicly,” he said slowly, and saw her shoulders slump in disappointment. “But that does not mean I don’t know it. What is the issue?”

Jiang Yanli explained in a few sentences: a woman looking for a brother, a young man who had helped rescue Wei Wuxian during the war, a doctor’s assistant, who’d even gone so far as to poison his own people to save members of the Jiang sect and then spent the majority of the war in a prison, and yet now they thought he had been trapped in a prison camp, being abused…a young man surnamed Wen.

A young man called Wen Ning, or Wen Qionglin. It was not a name Nie Mingjue remembered.

But the one searching for Wen Ning was his sister, Wen Qing - and that was a name he did remember.

Wen Ruohan’s favorite nurse.

Nie Mingjue’s jaw clenched at the thought. He’d spent more than half his life avenging his family, and had always assumed the Wen sect would do the same if they were allowed to live; he had never stinted on hating all of them without exception, without quarter. Wen Ruohan was a murderer and a tyrant, and his family supported him with nary a word in protest until the tables had turned and it was their own lives at stake – was it not evil to support evil? Could Wen Ruohan have done as much as he did without Wen Qing’s medicines and treatments, without Wen Qionglin’s silent compliance? Did it really matter that they had been threatened, as so many other people had been threatened?

No. Duress could explain many things, but it never excused standing aside in the face of murder. Wen Qionglin and Wen Qing were, at best, accessories to a hundred crimes, and deserved exactly none of his sympathy.

And yet.

It was not them that was making a request of him.

Patient, calm, gentle. Forgiving. These were all traits he wanted in his bloodline, traits he lacked and knew he lacked. Traits that Jiang Yanli possessed: matching strength to weakness, weakness to strength.

Nie Mingjue did not love Jiang Yanli, not yet, but if he was not willing to even trust her, it was better not to marry at all.

“Very well,” he said, deciding. “Are they waiting outside? We will go at once. Huaisang will make my excuses.”

“…Huaisang will?”

“He’ll stutter and obfuscate and make a tolerable mess of it,” Nie Mingjue said, not without a mixture of exasperation and fondness – he knew his brother too well. “And as a result they won’t know where or why we’ve gone for at least another half a shichen, if not more.”

(Knowing Nie Huaisang, he might ‘accidentally’ end up implying that Nie Mingjue had gone to enjoy some afternoon delight with his soon-to-be bride, but Nie Mingjue was too polite to mention something like that to Jiang Yanli.)

Jiang Yanli nodded, and slipped her hand into his, squeezing briefly. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I know what it all means to you.”

“I can only give you the benefit of the doubt,” he said, trying to be honest but probably coming off as harsh. “For the rest of it, I will decide when we are there.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t have his sword, as always these days, and Wen Qing, shivering behind him, had lost hers, but Nie Mingjue brought along four Nie sect cultivators and ordered two to act as escorts, with the other two trailing behind in the event of trouble. He rather liked Wei Wuxian, especially after that stunt he’d pulled in protest of the Jin sect’s little shooting ‘entertainment’, but demonic cultivation was dangerous and Wei Wuxian’s mentality was said to be unstable. Nie Mingjue had lost so many of his own already - he was taking no chances.

“How did you know where they’re located, Chifeng-zun?” Wei Wuxian asked from where he was balancing behind a long-suffering Nie Zonghui. “I wouldn’t have thought the Jin sect shared that information.”

“Are you not familiar with the concept of spies?” Nie Mingjue asked, voice dry. Jiang Yanli, in his arms, giggled – she’d planned to send them along without her, looking disappointed and worried and resigned, and she’d brightened like a flower exposed to the sun when he’d informed her that she was coming along with them. She was accustomed to being left behind, and he intended to change that.

Besides, they were only going to the Qiongqi Path, which was solidly in Jin territory, to a prisoner of war camp staffed by Jin cultivators. It was hardly a dangerous expedition, and he did not expect to encounter anything that might be a threat, excluding perhaps his own temper.

His temper did, in fact, make an appearance.

“Jin Guangshan swore to Lan Xichen that the Wen remnants would be resettled peacefully,” he snarled, eyes red with rage and Baxia in his hand as the Jin sect cultivators - which had been tormenting the civilians here and that had gotten into Wei Wuxian’s face when he’d charged over first to shout at them - cowered in front of him. They were willing to challenge Wei Wuxian, but it seemed that Nie Mingjue was a different story – bullying the weak and cowering before the strong. Pathetic! “I had not realized that our understanding of the word peaceful was so different. Clearly I will need to have words with Sect Leader Jin.”

A hand touched his arm, and he looked down, surprised; virtually no one approached him when he was in a rage.

Jiang Yanli stood beside him, looking up at him fearlessly. “As much as I’m sure you’d like to chop them into pieces, it’ll be more effective to present them as evidence,” she said, and even smiled, as if they were sharing a joke between the two of them. “We can save the chopping for later. Following the trial that I’m certain Sect Leader Jin will insist upon.”

The Jin cultivators paled, clearly realizing that the likelihood of Sect Leader Jin standing behind them rather than immediately making them scapegoats was very low. They would be much more likely to spill whatever secrets they might have now, knowing that their fates depended more on Nie Mingjue’s mercy than on Jin Guangshan’s, than they would have even in the face of his threats.

Baxia grumbled in reluctant approval, and all of a sudden Nie Mingjue could not wait for Jiang Yanli to have a saber of her own and to cultivate its spirit – he thought it would be a very fine spirit indeed.

“Very well,” he allowed, and put Baxia back on his back, noting but ignoring the respectful looks his cultivators were sending Jiang Yanli. It was nothing more than what ought to be, the proper role of a Nie furen: to incite when appropriate, to restrain when necessary. “Zonghui, return to Lanling and bring a larger force so that we can transport the Wen civilians to safety. And – there’s no need for subtlety.”

By which he meant that he wanted every cultivator who could fly their own sword to be tagging along out of curiosity, and Nie Zonghui knew it. He saluted and left at once.

“What do we do now, then?” Wei Wuxian asked, shifting from one foot to the other. He looked anxious and young, clearly startled by the abrupt lack of violence and worried about Wen Ning – the young man had some nasty injuries that hadn’t been treated by the Jin sect, his body tossed away like so much refuse, but they’d arrived early enough that his sister was avidly working to care for him. She had said that his chances were good, since they had arrived before his consciousness had slipped away.

If they’d arrived later…

If Nie Mingjue hadn’t had the information ready to hand from the spies he disliked using, if Wei Wuxian had had to get the information out of the Jin sect directly, if he had had to ride here from Lanling rather than fly a sword, if he’d gotten stuck in that thunderstorm that was rapidly heading their way…

Well, that hadn’t happened. There was no point in wondering what if.

“Now? Nothing. We wait. Nie Xizhe, Wu Shude, take some of the Wen civilians and have them help you tie up all the Jin sect cultivators; I don’t want anyone sneaking away, and there’s not enough of us to guard them while they’re free. Wei Wuxian, walk with me.” He glanced to his side. “With us, I mean.”

Wei Wuxian obediently trotted over to where Nie Mingjue and Jiang Yanli were waiting, and Nie Mingjue led the three of them over to a nearby ridge where they could have a little privacy. The storm was getting ever closer, he noticed.

“Very well,” he said finally. “It’s just us now. What debt do you owe the Wens?”

Wei Wuxian froze. “Debt? I don’t – I already said –”

“There’s something you’ve left out,” Nie Mingjue said. “The way you act with them…”

He didn’t know how to put it into words. It wasn’t merely chivalrous altruism, nor even friendship, that was driving Wei Wuxian – he was desperate to help, manic with the need to do something; there was something else there. Some secret. He knew, because Nie Mingjue knew secrets and what they did to a man, even if he was keeping it for the best reasons in the world.

“A-Xian?” Jiang Yanli asked when Wei Wuxian said nothing, when Nie Mingjue said no more. “You know you can tell me, right?”

His lips were pressed together, his hand tight on his flute until his knuckles were white. He shook his head. “Shijie,” he whispered. “Don’t ask, please. Don’t.”

At least he’d admitted there was something.

“Your conduct is causing trouble for Yunmeng Jiang,” Nie Mingjue said, and Wei Wuxian turned tormented eyes on him, even as Jiang Yanli’s hand tightened on his. “It’s a Great Sect, but your brother is young, untried, and sensitive to criticism. It will be difficult for him to deal with the issues you present, especially if you persist in your present path of continuing with demonic cultivation instead of returning to the orthodox path of sword cultivation.”

Wei Wuxian nodded, looking pained.

“Do you have a suggestion?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said. “Absent yourself before you are forced to leave in truth. Go to the Cloud Recesses the way Lan Wangji continues to pester you about – see if you can’t tell him what secret it is that’s weighing down your tongue, if you can’t tell any of us – and come visit the Unclean Realm when you’re done there.”

Wei Wuxian was staring. Nie Mingjue ignored him.

“When you’re done with that, assign yourself the job of checking up on the Jiang sect’s dependent sects, or even just go around to visit every sect listed as having fought in the war, building relationships with them,” he continued briskly. “As for the reason, you’re clever, you’ll think of something. Get Wangji to teach you some healing spells and come help those in my sect who need it. Say that you’re using your demonic cultivation to help ferret out resentful energy in need of cleansing. Something. It doesn’t really matter what. But whatever you do, go. Give Yunmeng Jiang time to become as strong as it needs to be to protect you.”

“But it shouldn’t be protecting me,” Wei Wuxian protested. “I should be the one protecting it!”

“A-Xian!” Jiang Yanli exclaimed, and her expression was suddenly fierce. “Are you the eldest? No. I am. You are my A-Xian, my didi, and that means you are part of Yunmeng Jiang – we have as much right to protect you as you us, and don’t you forget it.”

“But – shijie –”

“I won’t hear another word,” she said. “I won’t! Whatever it is, A-Xian, you need to tell us eventually, or else we’ll all fall apart. Didn’t you both promise me that we’d stay together, the three of us, always? You can’t break that promise now.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes were wet with tears. “All right, shijie. I’ll figure something out.”

“Start with Gusu,” Nie Mingjue said again, uncomfortable with the display of emotions. “If you tell Lan Wangji the truth, he may even be able to help – in one way or another. Or don’t, it’s up to you. Just get yourself out of the public view. Earn some merits that aren’t related to slaughter.”

Wei Wuxian nodded again, clearly overcome with feeling, and then promptly made up a flimsy excuse to leave, dashing away towards where Wen Qing was still working on her brother.

Jiang Yanli sighed. “Thank you,” she said. “Again. I just wish I knew what was wrong with him!”

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised her. “Even if I have to pick him up and shake the secret out of him.”

Jiang Yanli smiled up at him.

“Thank you,” she said, now a third time over.

“Thank you,” he corrected. “If you hadn’t brought this to my attention, I would be guilty of negligence in regard to the Wen sect remnants – and most of them civilians, no less. As for Wei Wuxian…he’s your didi, and so soon to be my brother-in-law. It’s nothing but what I should be doing.”

“Still,” she said. “I am grateful nonetheless.”

Nie Mingjue looked down at her, fierce and yet patient, kind and righteous in her own quietly determined way, fearless enough to stand by his side and trusting him enough to come to him for help.

His heart moved in his chest.

He decided to be daring, as it had always served him well in the past – he stepped forward, closer to Jiang Yanli, and leaned down to press his lips to the corner of her mouth.

“It is what I should be doing,” he murmured, voice low. “Nie furen.”

Jiang Yanli’s face turned bright red, but she was smiling.

Yes, Nie Mingjue thought – he might not be able to promise love, but accepting Jiang Yanli’s show of initiative was definitely one of the better decisions he’d made.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #jiang yanli #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #initiative

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alrightberries · 3 years

Note

Hi! So like what if Levi & F!Reader are like cuddling, and Levi over slept (maybe misses a meetings?) and Eren and his squad have to go find him and they see Reader and Levi all cuddly and stuffs. AND THEN Levi become super pissed bc they went into his quarters without permission and blah blah blah (you can decide the rest lolll) basically crack, fluff and humor lol. Please& thank uuu

the short end of the stick

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 3.3k

❈ summary: In which the 104th cadets were not prepared to find out that the terrifying and ever-intimidating Captain Levi... is a little spoon.

❈ trigger warnings: implied sex. brief mentions of blood and death. profanity

a/n: i made the reader gender neutral, hope y’all don’t mind. i had too much fun writing this and got kinda carried away. this is my first request ever and i’m glad that i finished it. enjoy!

Eren was shaking.

Sweat dripped down his forehead and his knuckles turned white from how hard he was clenching his fists, nails piercing his skin so harshly he swore it would draw blood. His heart angrily pumped inside his chest, every beat so strong he nearly anticipated for it to jump out of his ribcage at any given moment.

Fear.

He felt fear.

He puts a name to the feeling and it doesn’t make him feel any better. Ears ringing, lungs breathing rapidly as he tries to steady his fear-induced heart. He was hyperventilating. His eyebrows crease from his anxiousness and he feels his knees weaken, daring to give out beneath him. Was he actually shaking right now? He couldn’t even tell.

Vulnerable.

He felt vulnerable.

Eren had seen many horrors throughout his short lifetime. He saw the colossal titan rear its ugly head over Wall Maria as its foot smashed into the wall’s gates, debris flying throughout the district as a boulder crushed his home with his mother still inside. He saw his mother get snapped in half and eaten by a titan right before his very eyes at a tender age as he sat by and could do nothing but watch.

He was orphaned. Forced to grow up too soon, too fast just so he could say he survived. His entire district was left homeless, forced to become refugees as titans rampaged throughout the outer walls, forced plow the fields to combat the famine and hunger, forced to have 250,000 people go on what was essentually a suicide mission to appease the growing population.

He trained in the military. He trained for three gruesome years and had his physical and mental psyche crushed into dust beneath the boots of the commanding officer, only to be thrown into a battle—completely unprepared— with the titans once more before he could even graduate.

He saw his friends, his family, his brothers and sisters in arms get eaten. Killed. Murdered. Swatted away like flies by the very beasts he swore he’d kill.

And yet, nothing could prepare him for this.

Nothing could prepare him for the blood-pumping, adrenaline-induced terror at the mere thought of having to carry out his mission.

Nothing could prepare him for having to wake up Captain Levi from his nap.

Jean groaned. “Dammit, just fucking do it already.”

Eren is snapped out of his reverie, suddenly reminded that he wasn’t alone. His fellow soldiers stood behind him.

“Well if you’re so brave then why don’t you do it, horse-face?” He grits back, turning around and clenching his fists at his side.

He glimpses around the hallway and his eyes loom over his teammates’ amused faces, each painted with a shit-eating grin. Everyone was relieved that they weren’t the ones tagged with waking up the Captain from his nap.

Rumor around the base is, the last person from his original squadron (may they rest in peace) who had to wake up Captain Levi almost had his ear sliced off. Levi wasn’t even carrying any gear or anywhere near a knife.

One look at Mikasa told Eren that even she was glad she didn’t get picked for this task, and he shudders at the thought of being the poor bastard who had to lose his ear just so the Captain wouldn’t be late for his meeting. He quite liked having both of his ears attached to his head, thank you very much.

“It’s your task.”

“Yeah but why is it my task?!”

“Because you drew the short end of the stick, genius.” Jean replies easily.

Oh. Right.

“There has to be something we can do! Another plan. One that doesn’t involve waking up Captain Levi.” His eyes are pleading as he looks at his fellow soldiers, yet none of them seem willing to switch places with him.

Dammit. They were really going to make him work for it.

All his dignity is thrown out the window as Eren quickly gets on his knees and starts begging his friends, the shit-eating grins on their faces turning into wicked smiles as they watch him beg for mercy.

“Mikasa? What about you? Are you seriously going to let them send me to my death?” He asks, but Mikasa simply turns her head the other way as she speaks.

“He won’t kill you. Just sever your ear.”

Eren’s eye twitches.

She looks at him once more. “I’ll pick up your ear and ask the medical unit to sew it back on you. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

As proof, she holds up a glass jar and some tweezers. She had gloves on her hands.

God, he was going to kill his teammates.

Jean, apparently fed up with Eren’s incessant whining, marches towards him and grabs him by the collar, forcing him to stand up.

“Yeager, you trained in the military for three years. You’re a goddam titan shifter. You got kidnapped and held hostage. Three times. Waking up a growth-stunted man won’t be the last of you.”

Jean’s words are reassuring but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. No, his eyes are still amused. Very amused.

Scratch that, he wasn’t going to kill all his comrades. Just Jean. Jean and his extremely punchable horse-face.

Before he could even reply, Eren is shoved inside the Captain’s office with a quick “Off you go!” and the door is quickly shut behind him.

Fear.

This was truly fear.

Captain Levi’s office is empty, Eren notices. It’s spotless as always and tall shelves line every wall, each filled to the brim with books and documents. A lone door sits at the far right wall.

The Captain’s bedroom.

Slowly, with bathed breaths, he forces his legs to walk closer to the door that held his fate. Briefly, Eren thinks about getting some protective ear covers (just in case) but he quickly shoves that idea aside when he realizes that Jean and Conny were likely blocking the door from the outside.

That, and he concludes that the Captain would just break another part of his body. Maybe his hands. He didn’t need ears for handling ODM gear but he did need his hands.

“Captain?” Eren’s voice is weak but clear as he knocks on the door. “Captain Levi, you’re late for your meeting.”

He holds his breath for a few seconds, and there’s no response. He tries once more.

“Captain,” he repeats, louder this time. “Captain, you really need to wake up. Commander Erwin says your attendance is required for the meeting to start.”

But there’s still no response.

His hands are shaky and he’s still extremely nervous, but he knew Captain Levi’s presence was urgent to the meeting. Classified, Commander Erwin had said when he asked what it was about.

The third time Eren repeats his fruitless endeavors, he realizes that Captain Levi really wasn’t waking up any time soon.

He runs back to the door he came in from.

“Let me out!” He yells, hands throttling the doorknob as he tries to pull the door open but just as he suspected, Jean and Conny are sealing the exit and pulling at the doorknob as well.

“Let me out, dammit! Captain Levi won’t wake up, I don’t wanna die— just let me out!”

His feet are pressed up against the wall at this point and he manages to yank the door open by a few mere inches. A quick glimpse outside confirms his worse fears: all his friends are holding onto the doorknob as well, trying to keep the door closed. Even Mikasa.

He’d never felt so betrayed.

“You got this Eren!” His eyes drift to the back of the group where Sasha was smiling at him with a cheeky grin. “I’m sure the Captain won’t hurt you too badly when you wake him up.”

“No, fuck that! He’ll murder me and say it was because I went ape shit in titan form. He won’t even get arrested!”

It was when he made eye contact with Mikasa when he realized what true betrayal felt like.

“Good luck, Eren.” “No, don’t—!” Mikasa yanks the door close with one strong pull and he falls to the floor, on his ass.

The room is quite once more (save for the cheeky giggles on the other side of the door) and Eren brushes himself off as he stands up. He eyes the door to the Captain’s bedroom and he breathes in deeply when he comes to terms with what he has to do to wake the Captain from his deep slumber. He has to go inside.

He finds himself in front of the door once again, and this time his knocks are a little louder, a little more unsure, as he speaks. “Captain? I don’t think you’re waking up soon. I’m coming in.”

Slowly, he tells himself. Slowly.

Eren wasn’t sure what to expect when he opened the door to Captain Levi’s quarters. Maybe a torture chamber. Maybe swords and skeletons on the wall. Maybe a book on How To Murder With One Glare on a coffee table. He didn’t know.

But oddly, he thinks as he glances around, the Captain’s bedroom is... normal. The room’s dark, with its curtains drawn and the candles unlit. Tall shelves holding an impressive collection of books still line a portion of the walls. A bed is pressed up against the wall opposite the door, and there are two lumps underneath the blankets—

Wait.

Two lumps.

Two.

Captain Levi’s in bed with someone?

“Captain Levi,” Eren quietly calls out. He wonders who the hell managed to catch the Captain’s attention... or if someone even caught his attention at all. Captain Levi could just be hugging a pillow, he reasons. But Eren’s curiosity overtakes his fears and his legs start to walk closer towards the bed. “Captain?”

The blanket was pulled over the two sleeping lumps, and Eren gently tugs it down to reveal their faces.

No way.

No fucking way.

Briefly, Eren is speechless. His words get caught in his throat, hand frozen mid-air as he marvels at the sight of Humanity’s Strongest Soldier cuddled up within the arms of his lover. His normally stoic face is gone, replaced by relaxed eyes and a slightly ajar mouth, one cheek puffed up as it’s squished into his lover’s chest and his head is nuzzled into the crook of their neck. His arms disappear underneath the blankets, but judging by the fact that his lover’s arms were around him, Eren surmised that the Captain’s arms were most likely wrapped around his lover as well.

He looked innocent— cute, almost, and if Eren didn’t have to train under him everyday he might have actually believed that the Captain’s innocent sleeping face could be taken at face value.

Eren recognizes you, as well. He’s seen you around the base with your own squadron, an elite soldier with your own team of other elite soldiers. You’re known around the base as the squad leader who works their team to the ground, training your members so hard that they genuinely considered going to Captain Levi for comfort. But it wasn’t for naught, of course. Your squad’s survived longer than Captain Levi’s (again, may they rest in peace), barely making it out complete when the fiasco with the Female Titan occurred.

“Oi, Eren.” A voice behind him speaks, and Eren is briefly caught off guard as he turns around and makes eye contact with his comrades. Most likely, they got impatient with waiting for him and decided to see if he’d been murdered already.

Great, so now they decide they weren’t scared of going inside the Captain’s room.

“What’s taking so long?” Jean asks.

Eren is still speechless, opting to instead shakily point his finger towards the bed where Levi lay wrapped in your arms.

“H-he’s... he’s—“ “He’s what?”

He gulps and sighs deeply, speaking out so quietly his friends almost didn’t hear, speaking out in a mere shaky whisper as he utters his words.

“He’s a little spoon.”

Chaos is what Eren would use to describe what happened next. His comrades immediately jumped to stand next to him and take a look at the sight on bed, crowding around them as if they were a soap opera.

“Oh my god, he looks so...” Sasha starts in awe, hands on her cheeks and stars in her eyes but unsure how to finish her words.

Eren nods his head, understanding her speechlessness. “Innocent.”

Silently, his friends nod as well. But he couldn’t just stand here and gawk at Captain Levi’s sleeping form, he came here with a mission. “We need to wake him up. He’s already really late.” He says, more to himself than to his friends. He doesn’t wait for his comrades to exit the room as he gently places a hand on the Captain’s shoulders to shake him awake.

“Captain Levi—“

Eren learns his mistake too late as Levi’s eyes immediately snap open, hand clamping down on Eren’s and twisting it behind his back to disarm him.

“Eren!” Mikasa yells behind him, making a move to free him from Levi’s iron clad grip. From the corner of his eyes, Eren sees the person lying down next to Levi quickly sit up and throw something silver, flying past his comrades and towards Mikasa’s head, embedding itself deep within the wood next to her face.

Eren stares at his friends, all silent, frozen with fear, and rooted to their spots as their mouths hang open.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Levi sneers, pushing down on Eren’s arm.

“C-captain, you’re late for the—“ “Holy shit, we’re late for the meeting.” You cut in, eyes wide in realization.

The Captain briefly glimpses at you and clicks his tongue as he releases Eren from his grip, the young soldier immediately slumping to the ground in relief. His arms and legs felt like jello and he could already feel himself melting into the wooden floor.

“Can someone explain to me why you brats thought it would be a good idea to enter my private quarters?” Levi glares. “Without my permission?”

Oh shit. They didn’t think this through.

A cold shiver runs down the soldier’s spines as they unanimously realize their mistake, something that Eren undoubtedly would’ve felt as well if he wasn’t too busy gawking at the realization that Captain Levi was shirtless (probably naked underneath the sheets), and you were shirtless as well (also probably naked underneath the sheets).

Levi catches Eren’s eyes staring at you, and he silently pulls the blanket over your chest and up to your collarbones without breaking his glare at the cadets.

Fuck. Eren thinks, eyes snapping to the ground as a blush creeps up his neck. Captain Levi’s definitely going to cut off both my ears now.

Conny, apparently already cracking under the pressure, flails his arms and yells as he tries to make a run for the door. Before anyone could even blink, another silver blur whizzes through the air, stabbing the wood directly in front of Conny as he freezes.

It was a knife. A fucking butter knife. Why the hell the Captain and his lover keep a butterknife next to them on the bed is something Eren doesn’t want to know.

“Since none of you lot have tongues,” Levi speaks. He’s not going to get an explanation soon. “We’ll discuss punishment later. For now,” He stands up, grabbing a still flustered Eren by the collar and dragging him towards the door, pushing out the rest of the team as well.

Eren doesn’t have time to be relieved about the fact that Captain Levi was not, for a fact, naked and was wearing black boxers. He was too busy getting pushed out the Captain’s bedroom and dragged through the office before finally getting thrown out into the hallway.

“For now, you leave me alone. I have a meeting to attend to.”

Levi slams the door shut at his awestruck soldiers, breathing in a frustrated sigh as he rests his hand on his forehead. He was getting a headache. He feels arms wrap around him from behind, hands resting on his chest. He sighs once more, this time in content, as he leans into your touch.

“Hey,” you kiss neck. “Thought you said you locked the door.”

“I did.” He turns around, still in your arms, and gently places his hands on your face as he kisses your nose. “Someone must’ve accidentally unlocked it when they were trying to grab onto something. Y’know, when they were getting fucked from behind.”

You chuckle. “Well, I’m sure that someone probably got sweet talked into getting fucked against the door.”

You break away from his arms after giving him a kiss, making your way back inside Levi’s bedroom, no doubt to get dressed for the meeting.

He stares at you as you walk, still naked and looking gorgeous. His face may be stoic but his heart was leaping, the gold ring on your left hand that matched his own glimmering in the light.

Your head peaks out from behind his bedroom door. “Round two before the meeting?” You ask cheekily.

Levi rolls his eyes as he makes his way to the bedroom as well, patting your bum as he passes by. “No. We’re already late.”

Eren clutches the pillow to his head, exhausted from the laps he’d done. He glances around the room, eyeing the tired faces of his comrades.

As punishment for invading your privacy, Captain Levi assigned them laps around the base until sundown plus two weeks of stable duty. As punishment for invading his privacy, Captain Levi deemed them unworthy of having their own private space and made the entire squadron bunk together in the small room beside his own.

Well, the entire squadron except for the Captain himself, at least.

Eren was pretty sure the room they were made to sleep in indefinitely was supposed to be a supply closet of some kind, but it fitted enough bunk beds for the entire team and was deemed a worthy location to carry out the rest of their punishment.

“How long do we have to sleep here?” Sasha asked dreadfully, hands covering her ears in attempts to block out the noises coming from the other room. The sound of a squeaky mattress and a wooden bed slamming against the adjacent wall continued.

“Until we learn our lesson,” Jean quotes the Captain. He himself looked extremely tired but he wasn’t trying to cover his ears like the rest of them were, undoubtedly because he’d already given up on getting a good night’s rest if the bags underneath his eyes were anything to go by.

“I don’t even care how long we have to sleep here anymore.” Conny interjects tiredly. “I just want to know when they’ll ever stop.”

As if to prove his point, a moan is heard through the walls. The soldiers flinch, still not accustomed to the sound. Mikasa silently runs her hands through Eren’s hair to calm him down.

“They’ve been at it for hours,” Jean whispers in horror. “How much stamina do those two have?”

Armin sighs, the bags under his eyes feeling heavier by the second. “They’re elite soldiers who’ve trained for years. They have more stamina than all of us combined.”

The whole room heaves out a collective groan, finally accepting that they weren’t getting any sleep tonight.

In the other room, Captain Levi bangs his fist against the shared wall. “Oi,” he calls out. “Shut up, you brats. We can hear you.”

Levi thrusts his hips, eyes glancing down at your pleasure-struck face as he grinds into you more. The action causes you to throw your head back and let out a desperate moan, finger nails scratch down his back. He grabs your hands to pin them to the sides of your head, leaning down to whisper “Not too harsh, darling. We don’t want you leaving marks now, do we?” He continues his pace, the bed’s wooden frame slamming against the wall as he once again speaks to his soldiers.

“We have thin walls, y’know.”

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bakubub · 3 years

Text

In which Racer!Kuroo is your roommate and you finally learn more about him...

Warnings: Mentions of loss of loved one, disregard for own life, swearing, innuendos and implied nsfw (but sfw overall), fem!reader with she/her pronouns.

A/N: Idek what this is. Its literally a 4.6 k mixture of fluff, angst and comfort... I rewrote this like 4 times :,) being a perfectionist is so,,, tiring.

This takes part shortly after this, you can definitely read this without reading the 'part 1' if you will, since they don't depend on one another.

Art belongs to @aikk00 ,, and yes I am still in love with it :D

I stumble out of the lecture hall, my eyes so heavy I bump into about 3 other students and mumble my apologies until I fully wake up and snap out of my daze.

Walking down the stairs and making my way to the bus stop, I watch in horror as the bus I was supposed to be in drives off, going fast for once in its damn life as if mocking me.

Inhaling sharply through my nose, I manage to keep my composure and sit down at the bus stop, telling myself the next bus will be here in a bit.

It's fine. It's fine. I slept through the lecture, and I still have to catch up on 4 subjects and make dinner, but at least the house is clean and I'm caught up in that one subject I picked up for this exact reason.

It's fine. It's going to be just fi-

The rumble of a loud engine breaks my shitty but somewhat effective self-reassurance motto and I open my eyes to see a black and red sports car going 60 km/h in a 30 zone, effectively getting mine and everyone else's attention.

I watched in horror for the second time today as this time it stopped right in front of the bus stop. No, no, no, no.

No.

Please no.

He rolls down the passenger window with that ridiculous hair and a shit-eating grin, as he nods towards the seat, revving his engine.

I look away, pretending he's not looking directly at me and that I don't live with the guy, which I immediately regretted when he beeped the fucking horn.

What did I do to deserve this humiliation?

I hastily put my head down as he beeped it again, giving up and rushing towards his insufferable car, getting into the passenger seat and slumping in my seat to keep my head down low.

"What is wrong with you? What are you even doing here?" I hiss, my glaring up at him from my awkward, folded position.

He laughs, and when I hear the sound of a photo being taken in the split second I looked away to readjust my bag, I sit up straight, watching him continue speeding as he stuffs his phone into his pocket.

"Are. You. Trying. To. Kill. Me?!" I ask, my voice little less than a screech as I slap his arm with each word.

"Ow, ow, I just came to pick my roomie up! I sensed you needed a ride, and this is the thanks I get?" he asks, that smirk I have come to hate returning to grace his features.

I glare at him, but a small, sleep-deprived part of my brain is distracted by his appearance. A tight black tee adorning his built figure, his biceps are on display as he drives with one hand, the other resting on the gear shift. The air from his rolled down window is ruffling his hair this way and that, and I find myself wanting to run my hands through the raven strands, just as I had when I washed his hair that one time...

"Wait- how the fuck did you know I didn't have a ride?" I ask incredulously, my reaction time clearly delayed but here nonetheless.

I narrow my eyes as he hesitates before he answers, "I just knew, ok? It's not like it’s astrodynamics, not that I can't figure that out too."

"Kuroo, what the hell is astrodynamics? Are you like, spying on me or something?" I ask, pretending to look out the window so as to not get distracted by his appearance once more.

"What do you common folk call it? Rocket science?" He says, once again exceeding the speed limit.

"If I'm a commoner, does that make you a peasant? Also, stop going so fast, I feel sick and I do not feel like dying today."

He rolls his eyes in response as he slows down by a smidgen, the speed meter barely even moving. "Seriously, you may have no consideration for yourself, but I still have a lot of things to achieve with my damn life so slow the fuck down." My words finally reach the rational part in him and he slows down considerably, now going within the speed limit.

Taking a deep breath, I rest my elbow on my door and look out the window, my mind flooding with thoughts about Kuroo's reckless driving and how it can all go sour with one delayed reaction.

Before I know it, we're rolling up to our apartment building, driving into his private garage only the penthouse owners get to use.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, filling the silence in the car.

"It's ok. I just... I want you to be safe. I know its hard, but... just try," I say quietly, unable to look at him.

"That's what he said," he says hastily before rushing out of the car before I can hit him.

Getting out of the vehicle myself, I send a murderous look his way and run after his retreating form.

A small part of me is grateful that he's acting like his usual unbearable self again, but the rest of me is just mad at his relentless sex jokes.

He hits the elevator button before I can get there and I watch the doors close, his smirk practically shining through the crack of the closing doors. I jam my foot in the middle at the last possible second, and smile victoriously as I get into the metal box and slap his arm once again.

"Ooh, do it harder," he practically moans, and my eyes just about pop out of their sockets in embarrassment as my face flushes a deep red.

"Oh shut up," I mutter, turning around and waiting patiently for the doors to open on the top floor. I hear him snicker and then the sound of a photo being taken, turning around sharply. I yell in defiance and throw my bag on the floor as I jump onto him in an attempt to grab his phone out of his hand and delete the probably unflattering photo.

I straddle his back and reach for the phone he easily holds out of my reach. Leaning across his shoulder in a feeble attempt to reach it, my feet are hooked around his chest and my other hand is using his shoulder as a brace. He's laughing hard at this point, and I'm screaming at him to give me the damn phone. Neither of us notice the elevator doors opening nor the small woman standing at the threshold staring at us in shock and amusement.

"Kuroo Tetsuro! You let that poor girl down this instant, young man!"

We both froze at the authoritative voice, slowly turning to look at a small dark haired woman with a straight shoulder length cut and narrow gold eyes that were glaring at the man under me.

"MUM!" He exclaims, setting me down and running to hug and kiss the woman, his mum apparently. "What are you doing here?" I hear him ask as I straighten myself out, fixing my jumper and tucking my hair behind my ears, picking up my bag off the floor and quickly following them out of the elevator.

"What, a mother needs an excuse to come visit her boys? Where's Kenma?" She asks, looking in the elevator again as if to check if she missed him.

"Oh, he's at his own place. Apparently he has a booked in session with this famous gamer today. Did he say he'd be here?" Kuroo asks, letting go of the woman and leaning on the wall.

"No, I didn't tell anyone I was coming to visit. Never mind that, who's this pretty young lady here, hmm?" She asks, raising a perfectly shaped brow as she walks towards me, the click of her heels echoing in the lobby of the penthouse.

I smiled down at her, since she was considerably shorter than even me, and introduced myself. "It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Kuroo." I say, bowing.

"Oh no, no, none of that. You can call me mum too, hmm?" She says, gesturing me up from my bow and pulling me down for a tight hug.

"Oh, um, actually, me and Kuroo aren't-"

"We’ll talk more comfortably inside, no? Tetsuro, is your plan to let me stand here all day?” She asks, letting me go and turning around to look at Kuroo.

Kuroo leaps into action, taking his mum's bag and unlocking the door, helping her out of her heels and leading her into the spotless penthouse.

It was all I could do to nod in response, closing the door behind us and walking down into the kitchen to prepare a meal.

It’s crazy how much I don’t know about this guy. He’d never mentioned his mother before, and briefly mentioned that he has a sister, whether older or younger I have no idea. Kenma, however, I know well. The guy was here all the time when I first started living here, but recently I've seen him less and less. Which is a shame, considering we actually got along quite well, with sharing eye rolls and bonding over our mutual love of Minecraft.

I don't notice silent footsteps following me until Kuroo's Mother says "now, why's a beautiful girl like yourself slaving away in the kitchen? Does that boy make u do all the cooking and cleaning like some mid-century housewife?"

I poke my head out of the fridge, smiling at her fair assumptions, "no, no, it's not like that at all. I actually-"

"Uh, mum! You know I'm incompetent with this stuff. This place would be a mess if she wasn't here to run things! Plus, she loves to cook and finds cleaning therapeutic. Hey, her words not mine," Kuroo quickly jumps in, putting his hands up defensively when she looks at him with a raised brow.

Looks like he doesn't want his mother to know of our little arrangement.

"Right. He's just so hopeless, I can't trust him to do anything," I add on, sending her a smile as I prepare the fish he likes.

"You're making grilled mackerel for dinner?! Oh that's gonna hit the fu- the fun spot," he says, saving himself at the last second.

I hold back a snort as I take out a pan, "open the window, fish boy. It's about to stink here and I can't be bothered with Mrs. Suzuki coming all the way upstairs just to complain about the fish smell, and then complaining that she had to come up here in the first place. God, I hope she isn't sitting on the balcony today," I ramble, trying to see her balcony from outside the window, but fail because of the private location.

Damn these amazing architects.

I hear his mum chuckle at my rambling as she begins to take out ingredients for a salad. "Oh, you don't have to help, please sit and make yourself comfortable," I say, moving towards her to take the lettuce out of her hands.

"No, no, I'd like to pitch in. Now what kind of mother-in-law would I be to let you do everything yourself?" She asks, holding the lettuce away from me and walking over to the sink.

I stare at the back of her head, a flush creeping up my neck, "m-mother-in-law?!" I ask incredulously, glancing over at Kuroo who looked suspiciously... Smug. I look away quickly when he meets my eyes, and I hastily hyper-focus on the fish in front of me, placing it on the heated pan, causing sizzling and popping to fill the awkward silence.

"I'm sorry darling, I don't mean to be overbearing. Tetsuro introduced you as his girlfriend, so I thought things were getting serious since he actually allowed us to meet one another. You see, he’s never introduced me to a girl before, so you can imagine my excitement. I can stop if you're uncomfortable-"

I cut her off, feeling even more embarrassed as I realise the role I am to play in Kuroo's life when his mother is around. I mean, it makes sense, he can't exactly just admit he took a random girl into his house.

"I, um, no really it's fine, I understand" I say, my voice small as I flip the fish.

She lets out a delighted laugh and pulls me down into a hug once more. The smile on my face is genuine as my embarrassment melts away, the bright smile of this woman comforting me.

"So, how did you guys meet?" She asks, chopping up the ingredients for her salad on the bench while I'm at the stove, Kuroo leaning on his elbows on the bench.

"At uni," I answer at the same time as Kuroo states, "at a party."

We both look at each other with wide eyes, and I clear my throat to clarify, "at a uni party. A classmate of ours hosted one and we met each other there."

"I see, so the old boozed up one night stand turned into quite a domestic relationship hmm?" she suggests, wiggling her eyebrows at Kuroo.

"What? No, no, I would never! A one night stand? Booze? Please, what kind of man do you take me for?" Kuroo complains, looking offended.

I turn around towards the stove and roll my eyes. I've heard the rumours around campus, practically every girl in my lecture hall can testify to at least making out with the man. He really puts up a façade for his mum.

I hear the doorbell ring, and quickly take the fish off the stove to go answer it as Kuroo bickers with his mother about how innocent he really is.

"Hello? Who is it?" I ask, pressing the buzzer.

"Uh, hello? Is this Tetsu's place?" A deep voice answers. I look at the camera, seeing Kenma and a bunch of men about Kuroo's age looking confused. The one who answered is a guy with a blond mohawk and piercings adorning both ears.

"Yes, just give me a second," I reply. "Kuroo, I think Kenma and the rest of your friends are here? Should I let 'em up?" I shout out.

"Yeah let 'em in," he calls back. I press another button, letting them into the lobby.

I need to make more food.

Quickly taking out my frozen dumplings I stocked up for emergency dinners for days I couldn't be bothered to make anything better, I whip up a quick sauce, thinking I could split the fish and put it in the middle of the table so everyone can take their share.

"I do apologise darling, I let my Kenma know that I came to visit and he must have told the boys. I think they've all come to see me," Kuroo's mum confesses.

"You must be a very loved woman if they came all this way to see you. And it's no worries really, I'm always prepared for guests," I say, putting her at ease.

She beams at me as the door is banged loudly.

Kuroo mutters something about “rude assholes'' as he goes to open the door, a group of tall men making their way through the threshold.

"Hiya cap'ain," the mohawk guy says, patting Kuroo on the back. A tall, light brown haired man was next to greet him, then proceeded to exclaim "MUMMA KOZUME!!" and practically jumped onto the poor woman.

Wait, did he just say Kozume? Isn't Kenma's surname Kozume?

"Hey mum," Kenma greets, kneeling down to hug Kuroo's mum.

Who's mum is this lady?! I swear to god I'm going to go crazy.

"Hello hello everyone," A massive grey haired guy says, kissing Kuroo's mum on the cheek and hugging Kuroo.

The last guy to greet them is a tan guy with a buzz cut, and he does the same as his friend before.

"So Kuroo, when di'ja get yourself a girl, huh?" The grey haired guy asks, looking offended that he didn't know before now.

I raise my eyebrows as Kuroo just smiles guiltily. He introduces me to his friends and I wave hello, as they all begin to introduce themselves.

The grey haired guy says his name is Lev and that he's half Russian. A weird detail to include but interesting I guess.

The light brown haired man introduces himself as Yaku, and says that he was Kuroo's senpai back in high school.

"Yeah a demon senpai," Kuroo mutters in reply. My smile quickly turns into a grimace as Yaku jumps on him and they both start brawling on the floor, making a loud ruckus. A loud thumping can be heard from downstairs as Mrs. Suzuki starts to lose her mind and continues to bang the handle of her broom to her ceiling.

"Ugh, you morons upset Mrs. Suzuki! She's going to talk my ear off next time I see her..." I complain, grabbing a cushion and throwing it at the boys.

They flinch at my anger and quickly get up, muttering a quick apology. My glare softens as mohawk introduces himself as Yamamoto, and the tan guy says his name is Kai whilst vigorously shaking my hand.

"It's very nice meeting all of you. Dinner will be ready in a bit so please just make yourselves comfortable," I announce, making my way back into the kitchen.

The boys, all sporting grins, make their way to the living room and sit on the couches, man-spreading and slouching all over the place, one person taking up the usual spot for two.

I sigh, focusing on the dumplings in front of me.

I stiffen as I feel large hands on my waist, and a presence behind me. Visibly relaxing once I realise it's Kuroo, I turn around, his hands still resting on my hips, and his face nestled in the crook of my neck.

"Please just go along with it. We have to act like a couple if they're going to believe us," he mutters, his hot breath causing shivers to run up my spine.

I simply nod, instinctively placing my arms around his neck and running my fingers through his hair, something I've wanted to do since that day.

He groans into my neck, and I find myself holding my breath as I continue my hand movements.

"OI LOVEBIRDS! MUM SAYS THE DUMPLINGS ARE GONNA FUCKIN' STICK! Ow! Oh, sorry," I snatched my hands back from Kuroo, pushing his chest, my cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

What the fuck am I doing?!

I turn around back to the stove, mixing the dumplings in the boiling water as my thoughts race.

That felt too real, too much like a real relationship.

And way too addicting, apparently, since I already miss his close proximity.

The warmth on my waist disappears as I hear Kuroo running back into the living room.

"SHUT UP YOU MORON, THE DUMPLINGS ARE FINE!" I hear him scream, and then a loud thud as he presumably tackles whoever yelled at us to the ground.

I sigh as I hear Mrs. Suzuki's muffled thuds from downstairs in record time.

"You know I'm going to have to make Mrs. Suzuki some kind of apology cake because you boys can't sit down and act like adults," I complained, my arms crossed and an unimpressed expression on my face.

Lev and Yamamoto are on the floor playing some kind of Connect 4 game I've never seen before, while Kai looks to be having a deep conversation with Kuroo's mum, who is perched on the single arm chair like the queen she is.

Kenma is hogging the tv playing some kind of video game on Kuroo's ps5 (which I've hogged on more than one occasion), and Kuroo on the other hand has Yaku in a headlock.

He immediately lets go and apologises, and so does Yaku, who even bows in his regret.

I roll my eyes and shake my head at his mum, who just laughs, and I make my way back into the kitchen, setting food on the table and calling them in to eat.

After dinner, I find myself showered in compliments and not a bite of dinner leftover for tomorrow's lunch. Damn I'm good.

I served up cake I had already prepared from earlier along with fruits I washed and set on plates, and watched as that was eaten and finished before I even sat down. Kuroo's mum scolded the boys for poor manners, and they all apologised. Well, all except Kuroo, who just wiggled his pierced brows and winked at me.

I sit down on the floor next to the couch, since it was all occupied, and hear a dissatisfied sound coming from Kuroo's mum.

"Now, now, sweetheart. You don't have to be shy around me, just go on and take your usual seat next to Tetsuro," she says, nudging her head in Kuroo's direction, where the only vacant spot was literally his lap.

I look at her with wide eyes, even Kuroo seems taken aback by her suggestion, and all the boys are immaturely ‘oohing’ loudly as they laugh and make fun of us.

Kuroo makes a gesture for me to come next to him, so I hold back my heavy sigh, try my best to hide the flush on my face, and walk towards him, awkwardly perching on his knee.

He chuckles as he grabs my waist and pulls me flush towards his chest, my butt in the corner of the couch and my legs resting diagonally over his, so that my head is directly in the crook of his neck.

I hate to say it, but this is actually really damn comfortable.

Conversation has started up again, but it becomes secondary to the beat of his heart right under my ear, and my eyes start to get heavy as his scent and warmth lull me to a comfort that is beyond being awake and alert.

---

Kuroo's POV

"What a cute girl she is, Tetsu. I'm so glad you've found her. And now that you've got her, you better. Not. Let. Go." She says, slapping me on the arm with each word of her last sentence.

What is it with women and slapping me?

"Ok, ok, I know mum, I won't stuff this up. I promise," I respond, smiling at her.

"Ok, well, I'm staying over at Kenma's house. Ah, no objections. You've already got your hands full, and I don't want to be in the way of young love. Plus, I'd rather listen to Kenma's midnight streams than you two in the middle of the night," she says, not accepting my objections and giving me a knowing look. My face warms to what she's insinuating, and I mutter a quick, "it's not like that," as I duck my head into Y/n's shoulder.

By this time the boys have all left, Kenma's downstairs waiting in his car for his mum to come, but she insisted on staying back for a few minutes to talk to me.

Y/n fell asleep a while ago now, still nestled on my lap, her head on my shoulder and her figure keeping me warm.

"I know exactly how it is, my darling. I've seen how you two act, pretending to be in a relationship just so we don't ask any uncomfortable questions. I won't meddle in your life, I never did, Tetsuro. But I will give you advice I expect you to consider. Don't let her go. Neither of you were pretending about your feelings towards each other, let me tell you that much." She says, knowingly looking at me.

I look up in alarm, which quickly morphs into a nervous laugh. She's good, I'll give her that much.

But, can Y/n really mirror my feelings?

"Ok darling, better not leave Kenma waiting any longer. I'll visit again tomorrow, or you can come over to Kenma's, whichever you prefer as long as she comes along too. I want to get to know my future daughter-in-law better!!"

With that, the woman who took me in and treated me like her own left my home.

I look down at my roommate, taking in the way her lashes are long enough to brush against her face, the way her brows are just a tad bit asymmetrical, the stroke of her nose and the bend of her cupid's bow.

I can't help but bring my hand up to caress the side of her face, content to stay here forever.

Mum would've loved her.

This thought broke the dam that held back my tears since middle school, and as they fell down my face I couldn't help but think of my own mother, coming in and hugging her, making her famous pie that I can't remember the taste of anymore. A sob racks my figure and I all of a sudden find a pair of e/c eyes staring up at me, my tears having dampened some parts of her face.

Wordlessly, she straightens herself and wraps her arms around my neck, running her fingers through the back of my head, stroking down towards my nape and up again. I cry into her shoulder, tears that I've bottled up, emotions I've ignored because I've had my dad, my grandparents and the Kozume's. Later, I even had the team, and they all followed me to the racing gig, a place where I can express my emotions through the reckless driving that could claim my life any second. I should have been grateful. Instead, the pain of her absence never ceased.

I clutch the back of her sweatshirt as I cry and cry and cry, eventually tiring myself out and running out of tears.

With dry sobs still racking my body every few minutes, she finally leans back, cupping my face in her gentle hands.

"What's the matter, Kuroo?" She whispers, looking up at me with tears shining in her own eyes. "You can tell me anything, or you can say nothing at all. Either way, I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you," she says, touching her forehead to mine and closing her eyes. She stays here for a moment before moving to get up and drag me up too.

"Come on, let's get you into your pjs and into bed. It's getting late."

---

Your POV

Now in his usual shorts and singlet, I drag him to his massive bed, opening the neatly made bed and gently sit him down.

His hazel eyes follow me as I go to close the curtains, his lashes still wet from the countless tears he shed, his body still hiccupping with dry sobs.

Once I've put his blankets around him, I go to leave, muttering a goodnight as I leave.

"Y/n," I hear before I close the door. I peek my head in, "please stay."

Without a pause to think about his request, and already in my own pyjamas, I go next to him and crawl into his open arm as if I've been doing it every night, snuggling into his shoulder once more and wrapping my arm around his chest.

After a few moments of silence, he begins to speak in a raspy tone, "she's not my real mum. She's Kenma's mum, and I've... I've called her mum since I was around 7," he takes a deep breath before continuing. "I moved in with my dad and grandparents next door to the Kozumes when I was 6. I was nervous and shy back then. You wouldn't even recognise me because of the 180 turn my personality's taken. Kenma was even more social than I was. He was my first friend, and when I got him into volleyball and we met Coach Nekomata. That man inspired me to be the man I am today, and was the main reason why I joined the volleyball team in high school, and made friends with the guys. He did what my mum should've, supported me and gave me the confidence to live my life," he says, his voice cracking with the last word. I hug him tighter, knowing not to say anything as of yet.

"I just wish... I wish she didn't go. I wish she could've met you, Y/n. She would've loved you even more than Kenma's mum does," he confesses with a chuckle, sniffling and turning towards me to look me in the eyes.

"She would've seen the way I was around you. The different man I become. You make me a better person, Y/n. I find myself wanting to be better for you. I could never thank you enough for that. Please, never leave. Just stay with me, and I'll always be here for you," he says, repeating the same words I said to him earlier.

I can't help the smile from taking over my features and I lean in to kiss his nose, his eyes, his cheeks and finally I press my lips against his, something I have been wanting to do for a very long time.

"I will, Kuroo Tetsuro. I'll always stay with you."

A/n: So, I don't actually know if his mum passed away or if she left them, so I kind of just,, did both ?

Taglist: @3daa & @itsgiorgiaz

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

#racer!kuroo #haikyuu x reader #haikyufics #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #haikyuu!!#haikyu imagines #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsurou #haikyu angst #haikyuu drabbles #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu au #kuroo angst #kuroo comfort #kuroo fluff #kuroo au

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the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

Text

The Nanny Pt. 3

Lee Bodecker x Nanny!F!Reader

18+

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: alcohol/drinking, food, corrupt cop, mentions of prostitution/smut, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s), cursing, mentions of serial killers/murder, mutual pining,

Summary:

Based on this Request: The reader moves to Meade/Knockemstiff while answering an advertisement for a nanny in the paper. We learn that the ad was posted by Sandy, who has the reader watch her child whenever she and Carl leave to do their secret thing. After one of these trips, Sandy and her husband never return, so the reader is left caring for their baby. With the new investigation into these events, she meets Sandy’s brother Lee, the older, out of shape, alcoholic bachelor, and they are suddenly thrown into each others lives as he begins looking into his sister’s disappearance. Through it all, Lee starts to fall for her, and they slowly become a family.

A/N: I got inspired re-watching one of my favorite shows and I want to know if anyone else gets the reference I’m using! If I missed anything I should include as a warning that I missed please let me know! This is also unedited!

Taglist Form is in my bio!

Series Masterlist

Your shoulders tensed listening to the radio in the morning. Sitting on your ottoman, you were painting your nails, using the coffee table as your nail station. It was a really bright morning, and you had the curtains pulled open to draw in light. Julie frantically rushed between her room and the bathroom getting ready for her shift at the diner. The newest single from The Beach Boys was playing through the little counter top radio, but at the top of the hour, the melodies playing through the speaker changed to the news. The top story of the morning was chilling.

“Jules,” you said, calling her over hesitantly, putting the cap back on the bottle of polish. “Come listen to this.”

She scurried out of her room while working to tie her apron in the back, and then she stood next to where you sat to listen to the story on the news. The color drained from her face as you both listened to the reporter describe the horrific scene that was under investigation early this morning.

Roy Laferty was an evangelical preacher whose body washed up by the lake very early that same morning. The news report talked about the police investigation, and also disclosed his wife Helen, is also reported missing. They are looking into the disappearance of Helen, as well as opening a full investigation on Laferty’s murder. They also urge individuals with any information regarding the two to call the Sheriff’s department and to provide a statement.

“That’s horrifying,” you mumble, shocked as you try to process the news. Julie nods in agreement but strangely doesn’t seem nearly as affected by the news as you.

“It’s happening again,” she mutters, obviously concerned but her lack of surprise worries you.

“What do you mean again?” you ask.

“There was a string of unexplained murders, all men, like this newest one,” Julie explained, “This was all over the news like two years ago- can’t believe you hadn’t heard about it.” All you could do was shrug; this was all new to you. “Obviously, there was nothing linking their deaths, but there were these five killings a couple of years ago that are still unsolved. There’s no evidence, but the town rumors it was like a serial killer or something. Nothing is confirmed, of course, just a story.”

“What makes people think it was all the same person?” you ask, hesitantly.

“All the people were always the same type,” she shrugs, “Men all in their 20s and 30s. Again, there’s nothing linking them all together. It’s just talk.”

You clicked off the radio, and didn’t know what to do with yourself. Julie patted your shoulder, comfortingly but she had to go on with her day. So did you, and you almost her ability to move about the apartment almost unfazed by the news. You suppose it makes sense, her growing up here she’s probably used to it. You didn’t have the experience or the thick skin she had.

You had decided to go to the library, still preoccupied by the news segment as well as the things Julie had told you about the Sheriff. You spent the better half of the morning looking at the library’s archives of old newspapers. You wanted to read more about the unsolved cases Julie had told you about, so there you sat for several hours looking through the microfilm reader. You even stumbled upon articles that featured the Sheriff.

There he was plain as day on the front page when it was announced he had won the election the first time he ran several years back. You couldn’t help but notice the changes in his appearance and demeanor compared to the man you keep running into. He was a little slimmer, and he looked a lot happier, a little fuller of life, you decided was a good way to explain it. His smile was wider, and you could see the difference in his eyes as well. It was seeing how he was before the stress of the job began to take its heavy toll. He had on the same leather jacket as well, you were fairly certain, even though the one in the photograph hung a little looser.

You continued to skim through articles, piecing your way through the history of Knockemstiff. Little articles in black and white that persevered the history of this dark little town. You were beginning to realize this backwater town was a lot more tangled and complex than you originally believed. It was a tangled history, riddled with crime and unclosed cases, that people seem to have either forgotten or choose to ignore for their own sake. Your mind wandered back to the things Julie had told you about the Sheriff and him being corrupt. You wonder how much of what you read about linked back to him. Though you imagine if he has any sort of political connection, which a man like him must have, the things he was involved in probably didn’t even make it into the paper. The thought made you physically shiver.

You put the large leather portfolios of archives you took and put them back into their proper place on the self chronologically. You grabbed your sweater from the back of your chair, and pushed the chair back into place. Looking up at the clock on the wall, it was only just one in the afternoon. You decided to head down to the diner and grab a bite, and also visit Julie during her second shift. It was a short walk from the library to the diner. Everywhere felt like a short walk here, probably because everything in downtown was not much bigger than a few blocks. The majority of people lived far from the center of town, on their own land and farms.

The little bell on the door rang when you stepped in and Julie waved at you from behind the counter and pointed for you to grab an empty table in her section. You put your bag on the table and took a seat. It was a fairly busy time, most people who worked at the surrounding businesses coming in for their lunch break. Julie brought you over a coffee and then said she’d be back to chat when she got to take her five.

Lee hadn’t been able to go home since the phone call. The symptoms of his hangover were worsening and he was growing more irritable. His five o’clock shadow was still evident on his tired face and his head was pounding. He tried his best to just power through it but the sound of anyone trying to talk to him just made his ears ring.

After leaving the scene, he had to stop by his office and then he was on the phone for the better part of an hour fielding calls from frantic citizens not only of Knockemstiff but also Meade, where Laferty was from. Despite how horribly he felt, he tried his best to keep his temper level and just reassure people he had things under control. He was losing his patience.

He opened up his desk drawer and grabbed his bottle of asprin. Empty. He threw it into the small waste bin and got up abruptly grabbing his jacket off the hook and storming out. He didn’t tell anyone he was leaving and he didn’t care. It was a short walk to the drugstore from the station and he wouldn’t be five minutes. He just needed to do something to stop his head from hurting.

“Afternoon, Sheriff,” the pharmacist greeted when he walked in. He nodded his head upwards briefly to reply without having to talk. He just needed to get in and out. She went back to whatever she was working on when he came in, and he browsed the aisles for what he needed. After paying and walking out, he glanced in the direction of the diner when he was crossing the street. There you were, again. Sitting alone and chatting with the waitress that was refilling your coffee.

He let out a heavy sigh, and then continued walking. He didn’t want you to see him like this, hungover, unshaved, wrinkled uniform and heavy undereye bags from his lack of sleep. You looked- well, Lee thought you were the prettiest thing he’s seen in a while, maybe ever. There was something about you he couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe it was just because you weren’t from here. You were a fresh face, and not ruined by this town. There was a sweetness and an innocence in how you talked to him, because you didn’t know him like the rest of people here did. He liked that.

Even when he left the station for the day, he couldn’t even go home yet. He had a meeting at the bar with one of Brown’s lackeys. He was just supposed to collect his cut so he couldn’t imagine it would take long, but he was still annoyed. Stepping into the bar he looked around as he took off his hat. It was a little more crowded tonight then when he was here last. The red curtain was closed and his eyes lingered there for a moment before directing his attention to the man he recognized who was waving him over.

“Sheriff,” the man greets and Lee slides into the booth across from him.

“Hayward,” he replies. Without even needing to order, the bartender comes over bringing them a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

“You ever go back there?” Hayward asks, watching as a girl came out and brought a man behind the curtain who had been waiting at the bar.

“No,” Lee scoffs.

“They are amazing,” Hayward says, almost giddy. Lee feels sympathy towards the poor woman who had to take care of him. Lee doesn’t acknowledge the statement and just empties his glass and begins to pour himself a second.

“So, my cut?” Lee asks. Hayward frowns and goes into the breast pocket of his sports coat and pulls out an envelope of cash.

“You aren’t getting full,” the man says when Lee cocks a brow at the thinness of the envelope.

“Still?” Lee asks, pissed. Hayward nods. Lee’s jaw clenches.

“You didn’t keep things tidy on your end,” Hayward reminds him, “You got one job. Keep the cops out of our territory. We had two cruisers drive through last week. The only reason you’re getting anything at all is cause you managed to keep your people off us when we did the exchange with Deckard’s crew.”

The man finishes his drink, and then slaps the empty glass on the table. He pulls out his own envelope, which is much thicker than Lee’s and drops down more than enough for the drinks. He chuckles condescendingly and tells the Sheriff to get a dance. Fuck that. Lee takes the extra money and plans to just put it right in his pocket and go home. He finishes his third scotch and suddenly his headache was back. He felt worse than he did earlier today.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” a feminine voice asks, making him break his line of thought. He looks to his side and he recognizes her as one of the girls he sees bringing men to the back room, behind the velvet curtain. He shakes his head, and instead of leaving him alone, she slides into the booth next to him. Her hand grazes over his thigh. “You seem awful tense, Sheriff,” she says and then bites her lip.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. He knows she doesn’t actually want him, and it’s just an attempt to get him to spend money in the backroom. If he doesn’t focus his already hazing vision, maybe she could vaguely remind him of you. He can’t do it, but he wants to. Her hand moves up his leg and he pulls away. He adjusts his pants and she shrugs.

“Maybe next time then,” she winks before walking away. He rests his head back on the vinyl seat and sighs. He grabs his hat and jacket, leaving before he changes his mind. “Ask for Cherry when you come in, yeah?” she calls when he walks out.

You are just everywhere. You’re in his head and he doesn’t even know you. He needs to sleep, desperately, and part of him in the back of his mind hopes you’ll be there. When he wakes up, he doesn’t remember.

“Have you heard about the Church fundraiser coming up?” Julie asks. You shake your head. “It’s a pretty big deal here. Everyone participates.”

“What is it?” you ask, kicking off your slippers so you can sit crisscross on the couch.

“Bid-On-A-Basket,” she says casually, like it’s the most obvious thing.

“Never heard of it,” you reply, “It sounds fun. What is it?”

“All us single gals put together a picnic basket with everything for a lunch,” she explains, “and then all the eligible bachelors bid on the basket and a date with the girl who made it. Last year, the dreamiest guy, Bill Whittier, bought mine- it’s so fun. Me and Bill didn’t work out but it was a good time.”

“I don’t know anyone here,” you say hesitantly.

“Perfect way to get a date then,” she teases. You bite your lip. You aren’t sure about this.

“And what if some creep is the highest bidder?” you counter.

“You get a bad date story for your next date?” she poses. “Please,” she begs, “It’s for a good cause, all the money this year is going to help the Sunday school.”

“What if no one bids on it?” You rebut.

“Look at yourself,” she scoffs, “you’ll get bids. Trust me.” You roll your eyes.

“I’ll think about it,” you say finally. She smirks, completely planning to wear you down.

“Remember it’s for the kids,” she reasons, “It wouldn’t hurt to go and participate.”

“I said I’ll think about it,” you laugh.

Time passes and soon enough you get another call from Sandy, and you are suddenly back to taking care of Valerie. You had missed her, a lot actually. You definitely have gotten attached to her, and you think you’ve grown on her too. Sandy was vague this time for how long they’d be gone, but since the previous time went so smoothly, you didn’t worry about it.

About a week after Sandy and Carl left this time, there was another disturbing news report. You were sitting on the floor, changing Valerie and you had the television playing softly in the background. The news told the story of another body, this time found in the woods off of the highway. You finish changing the baby and hold her close, her little chin resting on your shoulder as you watch the news story. It was just like Julie had talked about. Another man, thirty years old. He was shot and his body abandoned. You jump at the knock at the front door.

You peep through the curtains, and you see the Sheriff waiting on the front porch. You wonder if he knows you’re there. Part of you almost wishes he knows it you here and he wanted to see you. It’s incredibly stupid on your part and you know better, but nonetheless, part of you hoped he came here for you. Very stupid. With Valerie on your hip, you open the door.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he says walking into the house. He stops in front of you and presses a kiss to Valerie’s forehead and she squeals happily seeing Lee. You close the door with your foot. “May I?” he asks, and opens his arms. You agree, based on Valerie’s reactions to him whenever she sees him. He takes her in his arms, and she starts playing with his tie. He loosens it so she can play with it and not choke him.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” you ask. He reacts in a way in a way you can’t really read, but you don’t press.

His mind just goes back to the woman a couple weeks back in the brothel who asked him the same thing, and that his mind immediately had gone to you. He just clears his throat and snaps himself out of that thought process.

“Um, I just came by to see Sandy,” he says, “But I can fathom a guess that she’s not here?”

“Excellent deduction,” you joke, and he smirks. Valerie has his tie in her mouth and is covering it in drool. He doesn’t even seem to care.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you nod. “You looked a little scared when you answered.”

“Just watching the news before you showed up is all,” you explain, “They were talking about how there was another man found dead.”

“Ain’t got nothing to worry about,” he says, “We’re on top of it. I’m on my way over there now.”

“Can I ask you something?” you ask hesitantly.

“Of course, darling.”

“My friend, you probably know her- Julie Grady.”

“Yeah, nice kid,” he says, listening but gently pulling his tie from Valerie’s grasp. She starts playing with the flap of the pocket of his jacket.

Kid. You almost grimace. That’s right. Of course, Lee would view someone your age that way. You weren’t. You chastise yourself for even caring, but you decide to continue. You shouldn’t care how he sees you.

“Yeah- well, she told me there have been others,” you continue, “I also read up about it, just the newspapers at the library- but she said people thought it was some kind of serial killer… I just, I want to know what you think.”

“I don’t think know,” he answers honestly, a little taken aback, not expecting you to approach him with something this serious. “I doubt it,” he explains, “Serial killers stay close to home. Now those cases you read about, and these two we are looking at- they sound close together but logistically, they aren’t really. Two of those unsolved were in completely different states- just like this new one.”

“So, no traveling serial killer?” you chuckle, trying to sound lighthearted. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Most people like that stay in one area,” Lee explains, “They work jobs, they have a home, you know? They tend to stay near where they live.”

“That makes me feel much better,” you answer honestly.

“You got nothing to worry about, and that’s a promise,” he grins, although he supposes coming from him that probably doesn’t mean much. Regardless, it makes you smile.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” you offer again. He bites his lip, taking a moment to think.

“Sandy keeps a bag of candy in her cabinet,” he says, walking into the kitchen with you following close behind. He passes Valerie off to you and he chuckles under his breath at the state of his tie. He reaches up in the cabinet and pulls down a brown paper bag, filled with taffies and chocolates.

Something about this man who has a whole time scared of him playing with his niece and then stealing sweets from the cupboard is something you find so strangely endearing. He unwraps one of the brightly colored taffies and then puts the bag in his pocket.

“I gotta go,” he announces, “let me know if you hear from Sandy, yeah?”

“Of course,” you reply.

“Gonna head out to that scene, and do my report,” he discloses, not really sure why he’s telling you. “Then I have a meeting at the rectory about that fundraiser thing. Figure out security.”

“They need security at Bid-On-A-Basket?” you ask, with an eyebrow raised. He smiles.

“You going?” he asks, flirtatiously.

“Just seems weird to have police at a Church thing.”

“There’s been stupid fights,” he shrugs, “some guy will get outbid and cause a fuss. Nothing serious. Probably just gonna be me and a deputy in case. You going?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” you say sheepishly. “Why?”

He walks towards the front door, and you follow seeing him out.

“Cause I gotta know if I’ll be bidding on a basket,” he winks.

“You gonna start a fight if you don’t win it?” you joke.

“If it’s yours? Absolutely, darling.”

Taglist:

@adelaide-walker @thedepressolit @samanthadegaro @pyronack @greeneyedblondie44 @acciosiriusblack @weenersoldierr @teenagemutant @witchybarb @iraot @my-love-darling @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @swiftieandthewintersoldier @letsfly-andbe-free @rebekahdawkins @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @hersilencedscreams @unsaltedalmonds @dangerdolns @vintagepigeon @bluebouquetcupcake29 @goslytherin @captainofallfandoms @buckistan @aynanasstuff @everything-is-all-clear @rosalynshields @tinynshykitten

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker fic #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #the devil all the time #sebastian stan characters #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker x f!reader #lee bodecker smut #slow burn #mystery #lee bodecker oneshot

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sitaarein · 3 years

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Desi rep

okay so this is partly inspired because of a whole bunch of incredibly, incredibly dumb asks my friend has gotten but it is ALSO, more importantly, because I am sick of the shit I have seen so here, have a not very concise post about what to do and what to avoid if you are writing desi rep (this can also be applied outside of writing I guess??)

If you give a character an Indian name and call it a day, I will actually come and murder you. For starters, India has a whole CULTURE that you have very much decided to ignore and that. is. not. okay. If you can give your white characters all the attention and details and research in the world, you can do the same for your desi characters. Secondly, the word “desi” is used to describe so much more than simply Indian. Wanna know which countries qualify as desi? India, Nepal, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Bhutan, Sri Lanka, and the Maldives. Don’t you even dare assume desi=indian and leave it at that.

This point ties into what I just said about desi people. Please, I am actually begging you, include more than Indian characters if you want to include south asia in your writing. I am Pakistani and I am so so sick of my identity being erased wherever I look. NOT that I have anything against India or Indians. It is simply the ignorance of people assuming the whole of South Asia is simply India that is supremely horrible to see

This is based off of personal experience. People actually think that either a) India isn’t a part of Asia or b) there are no countries in South Asia aside from India or c) both of those incredibly ignorant views. And all I can say is: what. the. fuck. Do not do that. Indians are Asians. Pakistanis are Asians. Nepalis are Asians. Bengalis are Asians. Bhutanese are Asians. Sri Lankans are Asians. Maldivians are Asians. If you do not think so, then that is actually just racist of you. Don’t talk to me until you’ve looked at a map.

Another personal point that just.. hurts. Do you know what the Muslim population of the Indian subcontinent is? (The Indian subcontinent is made up of all the countries mentioned above) The answer is: around 600 million. Out of 1.7 billion people, 600 million of them are Muslims. Put into perspective, its not a lot. But the Muslims have a whole separate identity. A separate culture. The whole reason Pakistan even came into existence is because the Muslims of the subcontinent were so fundamentally different. So if you have a desi based country or continent, please, please take a moment to think about the different cultures.

The above point, but apply it to Sikhs and Brahmins and the numerous identities I do not even know of. They’re all unique. Look them up. Don’t just call a stereotyped culture “Indian” and leave it there.

Speaking of culture: Just. Do your bloody research. Each of the countries in the Indian subcontinent have different national languages, and then INSIDE the country there are multiple dialects based on areas and tribes. Going to take Pakistan as an example: Our national language is Urdu, but the language most commonly spoken by far is Punjabi. So the average Pakistani you meet is almost definitely bilingual, and if they have had an english education, they are almost definitely trilingual. Same goes for all the other countries, I’m sure

Speaking of culture, part 2: there is literally too much to talk about for me to cover it all in one post, so I’m just gonna say: all desi countries are very different to each other, and inside the countries the various provinces are incredibly different. In addition to the changes in language, you’ll also get different staple dishes (even though most the food of the Indian subcontinent are the same in every country, you get some kind of twist that is always uniquely of that country or region or province’s), different folk tales, different poetry and literature, different icons and heroes- the list goes on. So, once more: Do your research.

I mentioned food briefly in the point above which reminded me of something else: I resent the fact that food that is pretty much native to the whole subcontinent is simply called... Indian. Once again, this is absolutely NOT out of hate for India, it is because that is such a generalization. Its because by calling it Indian you are effectively dismissing 5 other countries who eat and cook the same food because it belongs to them just as much as it does to the Indians. If you want a general name, call it desi food.

this point is... less serious than the others, its just something I find fun and could use more of in media. Desi people are obsessed with sports. Like, obsessed. Some of us pretty much breathe cricket. I just think its an interesting fact and pretty much a part of culture at this point, so I’d like to see the stereotypical desi uncle who wouldn’t miss a match for the life of him every once in a while

Back to seriousness. If you even bloody imply that your desi character is violent, I will duct tape you to a chair and make you watch dramatic pakistani dramas on repeat (it won’t be fun, trust me). I have had it with South Asia being portrayed as a terrorist hub. Do not even think of conforming to such a stereotype. I will literally hunt you down and make sure you never, ever even think of doing so ever again.

Also: If you bloody dare imply that we are, in any way, backward, I will once more carry out the above punishments. Stop. Just stop.

Oh man, talk about the history of the Indian subcontinent. Talk about the heritage. Have you like... seen the architecture????? There’s more than just the Taj Mahal here my dudes. Forget all the “dangerous countries” bullshit. Focus on the brilliance of, well, everything, instead.

Oh oh speaking of: Have you guys heard of mohenjo daro?? Look it up. There’s some fantasy/mystery potential there. Use it for whatever, it would make my day

Time to talk about geography. So first off: Mountains. So many amazing mountains. Both Everest and K-2 (the tallest and second tallest) are located here. The Himalayas are located here. Pretty amazing, eh? Second off: Deserts. Do you know how many mineral riches are hidden in those? Its amazing. Third off: Rivers. Oh man the rivers. Did you know the Indus river is full of blind dolphins native to the Indus river only? Did you know they’re very very endangered? Find some funds for them while you’re looking up info about them, btw. Also another sea animal native to South Asia which has pretty much been driven out of Pakistan and Myanmar: the gharial. look them up too, seriously. That would be great. Fourth off: The plains. Do you have any idea how fertile our soil is? Because. Its insane. And there’s so much more about the geography and topography of the Indian subcontinent, guys. Look it all up. I’m so sick of vague desert land descriptions for the Indian subcontinent.

Religion. Now this overlaps with culture a lot, since quite a few people choose to define their religion as their culture, but we’re still touching upon it. This is pretty vague, but there are definitely at least over seven. Each comes with its entirely unique practices. Do not even try having a desi character who is Sikh but knows nothing about Sikhism, or Muslim but knows nothing about Islam, because even if they aren’t practicing, they grow up learning about whatever religion their family practices, most of the time.

If you’re desi, feel free to add on whatever you think is relevant here. If you’re not, shut the fuck up. This is not about you, and it will never be. Feel free to reblog, but kindly keep your comments or opinions to yourself if they are not in agreement with all the above points or promises to be less ignorant.

My inbox is open if you have any questions. Desi people let me know if I said something wrong or offensive and I promise I’ll do my best to correct it

#this whole thing took me. a whopping three hours #god damn #anyways y'all better fucking read the whole thing because I have been PISSED for some time and today just. was the final straw #also sb pls #zuha's [un]original bakwaas #important #desi shit and whatnot

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