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piecksz · 4 years

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three’s a crowd | (m)

pairing: reiner x fem!reader x eren

warnings: nsfw, oral sex (female recieving), cuckolding, male masturbation, penetrative sex, voyeurism, slight degredation, slight angst, light mention of drugs, explicit language

summary: reiner’s attempt at hiding his attraction towards you fails, but lucky for him, eren’s feeling generous.

words: 4.6k

a/n: this was so much longer than i planned for.....well.....shit LMAOOO

a/n x2: I FORGOT TO ADD if you guys wanna listen to the song i looped like 47 fucking times while writing this, bc i feel like it fits reiner in this one shot kinda well, u can listen to recognize by partynextdoor (feat. drake) :p enjoy

Reiner hated Eren.

He hadn’t gone into living with someone he’d never met in person before with innumerable expectations, but he wasn’t banking on his roommate to be his polar opposite. He hated the sound of Eren’s riotous music into the early hours of dawn. He hated the unbearable malodor of his marijuana dependence, and he hated the way he carried himself with an intolerable air of arrogance, but as much as Eren’s living habits irritated him, it was the fact that Eren had you that presided over all of his grievances.

Being a witness to it made Reiner sick, knowing that you were leagues above Eren, and surely you deserved someone respectable, but somehow he’d charmed you into a long-term relationship, and Reiner wondered how he’d managed it. If by some miracle it had been up to him, Reiner speculated that he would be a viable match for you--that was if he had those sentiments for you--and he reassured himself he didn’t hold any promiscuous feelings towards his roommate’s girlfriend.

Yet it was hard for Reiner to rationalize the obscene thoughts that pervaded his mind at 2 AM. His clock displayed the time in bold red numbers, an indication that he should have been fast asleep, but you had decided to spend the night, and he already understood what that entailed.

The walls in their apartment were thin and did an insubstantial job of muting the noise that traveled between rooms. Reiner boasted the privilege of having his room right next to Eren’s, which meant he could hear everything that happened on the other side of the barrier. He heard every whimper, every groan, every time Eren praised you for taking him so well, and every time he admired how irresistible you looked while he fucked you from the back. The sound was so lucid he could count exactly how many rounds you guys had gone, and it was usually two, three if Eren hadn’t seen you in a while which was rare.

You two were hard to ignore, no matter how hard Reiner had tried, meaning he was also up late, listening while you two coupled. Your cries of stimulation, however, he didn’t mind as much. In truth, Reiner was always tempted to slip his hands into his pants and get himself off to the sound of your enticing whimpers, but he would discourage himself, deciding it was against his better judgement. Instead he would opt to cover his ears with his pillow, flipping over onto his side and dedicating his total effort to falling asleep.

Of course, Reiner had long established that he didn’t like you, but he swore he could make you feel better than Eren could.

It was around midday when Reiner returned to their apartment after committing his morning to helping his long-time friend, Pieck, pack up the furniture at her studio in preparation to move. They were halfway finished with stowing away Pieck’s belongings before she realized they didn’t have enough boxes and apologized, asking Reiner if he’d be willing to return the following day to help her load up her remaining things. He obliged, guiltily happy that he was being dismissed early.

Reiner kicked off his shoes and ambled into the kitchen to set down the food he secured on his way home, but he paused momentarily to scrutinize the condition of the living room, discerning Eren’s obvious trace.

The TV was on, but it sat idly, blinking images of some prime time movie Reiner couldn’t recognize, and Eren’s drug paraphernalia was left scattered on the coffee table, his bong alongside his stray lighter and grinder.

“Eren!” Reiner had prompted him on several occasions, reminding Eren that just because he thought electricity was a necessary utility and should be free, didn’t mean it was, they still had to pay for it. He also requested that he put his bong away after he was done smoking since it wasn’t permitted in their building, but Eren seemed heedless to that demand too. “Eren!”

Reiner anticipated a response, but huffed when he received only silence. Leave it to his roommate to blight his good mood in record time. He mumbled inaudibly, swiping the remote off the table to turn the TV off, and then reluctantly bending down to tidy the space of Eren’s things.

“Hi, Sunshine. You’re up and about early.”

Reiner straightened himself out and turned around, unaware that you’d been over. He missed your approaching footsteps. Had you stayed the night? He didn’t hear anything from Eren’s room the previous evening which was unusual to say the least. Maybe you’d stopped by earlier that morning while he’d been out.

“Hey,” he replied meekly. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

Reiner’s eyes looked you over swiftly, slightly startled at the lack of clothing covering your bottom half. You were only wearing a loose shirt that stopped dangerously at your hips and a pair of lace undergarments, but naturally, you didn’t seem the least bit phased. You’d practically lived with them. When you weren’t in class or at your part-time job, you were at their apartment, leading Reiner to wonder if you forgot you had a place of your own.

“It’s fine,” you smiled. “Sorry Eren left all of his shit out. I don’t know how I know the house rules and he doesn’t.”

Reiner snorted. “He knows them, he just doesn’t care.” His voice was casual although he walked hastily into the kitchen to avoid looking at you. He stored Eren’s bong in the vacant cupboard above the microwave before throwing his other tools into a miscellaneous drawer.

As if on cue, Eren wandered out of his room languidly, carelessly shrugging a jacket onto his unclad upper body. Reiner took that as a sign that his lunch would be best enjoyed in his room. He was already irked, and wasn’t in the headspace to deal with the current atmosphere.

“What’d you get?” you questioned, leaning over the counter with mirth. You paid little attention to the way Eren came up behind you, circling his arms around your waist and resting his chin in the curve of your shoulder. You looked more interested in the alluring smells wafting from the paper bag in Reiner’s hand.

Another thing he hated about Eren was his shameless PDA. It appeared he adored showing you off, letting everyone know that you were his, but God--how could anyone forget when it seemed he was incapable of keeping his hands off of you. Reiner himself recognized that you were a prize, from your lively eyes that were a marriage of subtle hues to the way your lips curled upwards when you grinned. He even noticed the curve of your breasts’ shape through your shirt. If Reiner had you, he’d want you all to himself.

He shook the thought out of his head.

“I just got something small on the way home.” He forced a smile. “If I’d known you were over I would have gotten you something too.”

“Why do you treat Y/N better than you treat me?” Eren asked, sounding only a little bit offended.

Reiner pretended to think before he responded. “Ah, maybe it’s because I don’t like you.”

You laughed at Reiner’s reply, and Eren only smiled, but Reiner detected something else behind his expression. Mischief.

“Do you like Y/N?”

Reiner creased his eyebrows together. “Of course.” He hadn’t read too much into the question. He did like you. You weren’t just easy on the eyes, but you were great company too. That was the only reason he didn’t mind lending their apartment to you as a second home, he enjoyed being around you.

You let out an exaggerated aww after he answered. “I like you too, Reiner.”

Reiner chuckled, shaking his head, but inside he was telling his heart to calm down. You didn’t mean it like that.

Eren hummed absentmindedly, swaying side to side slowly while you rocked along to his movement.

“Do you wanna fuck her?”

Reiner gripped the bag in his hand tightly, and his smile faltered in shock, reeling from the bombshell of Eren’s question. “What?” Did he hear him correctly?

You looked just as surprised, exclaiming your boyfriend’s name and craning your neck to look at him.

“I’m kidding,” he dismissed, but Reiner could tell he wasn’t from the way Eren’s eyes didn’t waver from him.

What Reiner didn’t know was that Eren had caught onto him. He’d known for a while, which was why he was particularly touchy with you around Reiner, showing you off, not caring whether you walked around their apartment scarcely dressed, it was because Eren enjoyed having something that someone else wanted. He saw the way his roommate acted around his girlfriend, reserved and quiet, more than he usually was, and he even noticed the way Reiner’s eyes dipped down to your chest in the moment because Eren was exceptional at paying attention to detail.

You must have detected how uncomfortable Reiner felt because you delivered a brief jab to Eren’s ribs with your elbow.

“Eren, that’s not fucking funny,” you chided. “Do I need to put you in time out?”

“It’s fine,” Reiner interrupted quickly. He didn’t want you defending him because you were oblivious. It only made the situation more embarrassing than it already was since, truthfully, the thought had crossed his mind more than once.

Eren reiterated his question, eyes narrowed at Reiner. “So do you?”

You sighed heavily and looked at Reiner apologetically. He could feel his face growing hot, and he prayed it wasn’t obvious he was as flushed as he felt. He just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.

Reiner released a humourless chuckle. “Grow up, Eren.” He slipped past the two of you, but he didn’t get far.

“I’m only asking because I’m feeling charitable. You wouldn’t mind, would you baby?”

Reiner could hear Eren pressing a series of ticklish kisses against your skin, causing you to laugh through your answer.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind if Reiner doesn’t mind.”

Reiner brought his teeth down hard on the tip of his tongue. He was surprised that Eren was so secure in his relationship that he would willingly allow another man to have his way with his girlfriend. He wasn’t sure if his suggestion was insane or ingenious, because Eren had taken control of the one thing that threatened any relationship: infidelity, something so unvirtuous wouldn’t stop him from loving you. You and Eren were so committed to each other that a simple fuck meant nothing.

Reiner hesitated, but figured an opportunity like this was rare. He had both Eren’s permission and yours, yet he still didn’t believe his sincerity until you were in Eren’s room, starting to strip out of your clothes.

His chestnut eyes drifted over to Eren, slouched lazily in the chair he casually pulled out from his desk. “You’re gonna watch?”

Eren lifted a thick eyebrow, resting his thumb under his chin with an index finger against his cheek, looking unimpressed by Reiner’s obvious reservations. “You think I’d let you fuck my girlfriend without me here?”

Reiner slid a tense hand over the back of his neck, rubbing away the uncomfortable heat that creeped up his back and diffused to the tips of his ears. He figured that was reasonable considering the circumstances, after all, he was only fucking you because Eren had allowed it.

There was nothing more intoxicating to Reiner than your bare form, scanty pink lace clinging to your hips the only thing preventing you from being completely naked in front of him. His gaze dipped from your simpering smile down to your collarbones and then down to your breasts, perfectly sculpted to your figure.

Reiner made no efforts to move despite his insatiable urge to grab you in his arms and make certain that you were left satisfied. He feared he’d look too eager to Eren who was observing from the sidelines, but you paid little attention to your audience of one as you sauntered towards Reiner, closer and closer, until your arms slid around his neck and you pressed your chest to his torso.

Reiner’s body was strung so tightly, he was afraid he might snap. It seemed you took notice of the way his muscles tensed once your delicate fingers ghosted over the nape of his neck because your suggestive expression waned, and instead, your eyebrows creased with sincere concern.

“You okay?”

He couldn’t respond, but to be fair, it was because his heart was hammering against his chest and he wasn’t sure how to make it stop. He looked over at Eren again, who, fortunately, didn’t seem to pay much attention to him. Instead, your boyfriend’s stare was fixed on your backside, likely admiring how luscious you looked from his perspective.

“I’m over here.” You laughed and pressed a gentle finger to Reiner’s chin, redirecting his focus back to you. “Just relax.”

He swallowed, chuckling to soothe his unease. “I’m trying.”

Reiner wasn’t sure why he felt so unassertive in your presence. He didn’t hold a record like Eren did, but he also wasn't abstinent by any means. This, though, felt different. He was dealing with several months of pent-up sexual frustration that could only be satisfied by you and no one else. He knew because he’d tried.

Reiner drew in a ragged breath as you leaned into him, breathing heavily through his mouth until you closed the space in between you two, then he continued breathing heavily through his nose. At first, he made no efforts to close his eyes, afraid that the imagery in front of him was a mirage inspired by his own imagination and would disappear if he so much as blinked. His lips were timid, body taut under your touch, but you seduced his mouth, reining him in until he melted into the kiss.

He pushed back against you with fervor and desperation, outlining the shape of your bottom lip with his tongue before nipping at the soft flesh. You released a quiet whimper, intensifying the lust swelling in the pit of his stomach, and Reiner forced his tongue past your teeth, claiming your mouth while his wandering hands settled audaciously against your ass.

Your hands slid over his shoulders and crafted biceps until they tugged hastily against the hem of his shirt, and Reiner immediately understood your cue, withdrawing his mouth from yours to give himself just enough time to slip out of it. He dipped down again to deliver another kiss, but he was deterred by the feeling of your palm against his chest.

“What? Is something wrong?” he questioned quickly, eyes darting back and forth between your hand and your face, worried that he’d done something to overstep your boundaries.

Instead of the troubled expression he expected, you looked rather intrigued. Perhaps impressed was the better word. Your curiosity was held by Reiner’s physique, a living work of art. Eager fingers traveled down the built ripples of his abdomen, chuckling once you felt his muscles flex under your touch.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathed. “Nice, Braun.”

A snicker emitted from the corner. This, miraculously, Eren allowed.

Reiner's mouth quirked upward in a subtle smile before he surrounded you with his arm, pulling you in for another kiss. He walked you backwards until you collapsed onto the mattress, and he fell on top of you, strong forearms holding up his weight. It was then that Reiner realized he allowed his lust to win in the war against himself.

He pulled away to recover his breath, winded pants fanning over your face. His surveying eyes searched yours before they lowered to your swollen lips. God, you were even more mesmerizing up close, heavy-lidded and studying him through a curtain of eyelashes. Maybe for once Reiner would admit he was jealous of Eren. He was fucking envious, bitter, and spiteful that you were his. He’d been a goddamn idiot to let things go this far, agreeing to Eren’s offer, because he knew one fuck wouldn’t be enough to fufill his need for you. He’d barely gotten a taste, and he could already promise that nothing would ever compare to this.

He found your throat and pressed a fleeting kiss to your pulse, moving further down until his lips met your collarbone. He nipped at the delicate skin, taking notice of the way your grip in his hair tightened. His eyebrows arched while he peered up at you, delighting in the way your head rolled back and forth against the duvet. He really wanted to suck at your skin, leaving dark bruises that decorated the path from your earlobe down to your breastbone, but he knew Eren would kill him.

Reiner dipped lower until his lips brushed lightly against your beaded nipple. You made a small sound of protest, but held his head closer, letting him know what you really wanted. His heart beat erratically against his ribcage as he curved a large hand around your right breast and suppressed a groan, but you released a breathy whimper.

He could feel the sound wreaking havoc in his brain. His balls were so damn tight, it would take barely any effort for him to cum, but he wanted to prolong your coupling as long as possible. He didn’t know if he’d ever get another chance like this.

His thumb ran over the erect peaks of your breasts, captivated by the magic of watching your back arch and your body become aroused under his touch. He dipped a finger into his mouth, glazing it with his saliva before using it to flick back and forth at your nipple.

“Fuck, Reiner,” you mewled.

Reiner replaced his hand with his lips, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth. The tip of his tongue swirled around it, coating it generously with his spit, while you made no attempts to conceal your intense cries of pleasure.

Eren released an entertained sigh, swiveling back and forth in his chair. “She whines like a bitch, doesn’t she?”

Shit. Reiner had almost forgotten he was there, but he still released a hungry grunt in agreement, sending vibrations over your chest. He tugged at your nipple with his teeth, releasing it, and then soothing the sting with the flat side of his tongue.

He trailed down your abdomen, pressing hard wet kisses and stopping to leave a quick lick to your navel. He grinned against your skin when you gripped the sheets and breathed his name again, this time quieter, as if you meant it only for his ears. He liked to think so.

Once he reached the waistband of your panties, he licked along the fabric, immobilizing your rolling hips with strong hands.

“Enough with the theatrics, Reiner. Just do it already,” Eren groaned, sounding irate.

Reiner assumed Eren’s groan was only to stress his impatience, but once he looked over to him, he realized he wasn’t just giving directives from the sidelines. His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth, and his hand was moving steadily against the noticeable tent in his sweatpants.

He was enjoying this just as much as Reiner was, getting off to the sight of his girlfriend under another man, his roommate nonetheless.

Reiner suddenly felt strange. What the hell was he doing providing entertainment for Eren?

“Reiner,” your needy voice pulled him out of his reflection. His attention drifted back to you, watching while you propped yourself up on your elbows and slid your unsteady hands over your chest to tweak your own nipples, as if you were trying to hold yourself over.

He wished you hadn’t looked so tempting, even with your disheveled hair and sweaty skin, your vulnerable eyes fixated on him, and he was powerless.

Reiner hooked his fingers around your underwear, kissing a trail down the inside of your thighs as he pulled your panties down to your ankles before slipping them off and letting them pool on the floor.

“Spread wide baby, let him see that pretty pussy,” Eren stirred, cock now thrust out the top of his grey sweats and his swollen tip glistening with precum. His hand was wrapped firmly around his stiff length, moving slow while his breathing quickened.

For once, Reiner agreed with him, and he pressed his fingers into your thighs to aid you in parting your legs. Your pussy was slick with your own arousal, squelching as you tightened around nothing. You were even prettier than he’d imagined.

“Fuck,” Reiner breathed, extending two fingers to part your folds. Was he still sure he wasn’t dreaming?

He wrapped his built arms around your legs, pulled you closer, and lowered his head. He fixed his lips to your swollen clit, allowing his tongue to lap and circle around the tender bud every few seconds.

“Oh my god,” you cried, writhing against the sheets.

If he hadn’t secured your legs in his grip, he was certain you would have smothered him between your thighs out of reflex. He could detect the way you fought against his hold, but he far overpowered you in strength.

When he plunged his tongue inside you without notice, that was nearly enough to send you over the edge. You pulled on the sheets with a frenzied grip, producing a shrill cry your neighbors had certainly heard. There was no doubt about it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you murmured, chest expanding and falling with labored breaths.

Reiner wanted to spend a few more generous minutes tasting you, he couldn’t get enough, but he also wasn’t sure how much longer he would last. His cock was hot and hard in his pants, and he needed to feel you around him. Even if Eren wouldn’t let him cum inside of you, he needed to experience at least that much.

He rose to his feet, working quickly against his pants’ zipper while trying not to tease himself by looking at you. He was worried the mere sight of you on the bed, spread and ready for him would be enough to bring him to a climax, but he’d made the mistake of looking at you anyways, hand between your legs, delicate fingers rubbing at your clit while you stared up at him.

Fucking hell. Kill me. Reiner thought. Fuck. He felt the throbbing heat of his cock, and he wished you wouldn’t look at him like that. He really wished you wouldn’t look at him like that.

“Look at her, so desperate to be filled. It’s almost pathetic,” Eren laughed, but it was clear he was feeling your effect too. He lolled his head forward, long brown hair spilling over his shoulders and obscuring his face while his palm worked fast against his cock.

Shut up, Reiner thought. His head was growing hazy, and he couldn’t think. He needed to be inside you, and he couldn’t wait a second longer.

Reiner let himself free while his pants and underwear hung low around his knees. He couldn’t even find time to delight in the way your face melted into bliss once you laid eyes on his thick cock, leaking precum in sinful amounts because all he could think about was his ache. He leaned over you, positioning himself at your entrance.

He’d been waiting for this for so goddamn long.

Reiner exhaled when you said his name again, hips undulating against his cock and wet folds stroking his tip. He watched as he pushed himself into you, filling you to the hilt, and once he was inside he hung his head forward, eyes shut tightly in a painful sort of ecstasy.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Reiner grunted breathlessly.

He groaned, pinning your hips down with his once you attempted to fuck yourself onto his cock.

“Stop moving,” he pleaded. “Jesus christ--please don’t move.” He stayed still for a moment, waiting until his sensitivity subsided before he started rocking his hips against you slowly.

Reiner couldn’t dedicate his focus to anything other than the feeling of your slick walls clenching around his cock every time he pulled out, and the way he stretched you out every time he thrusted back in. He wondered if you could feel the depth of his desire.

“Harder,” you whispered once, and then begged louder. “Reiner please, fuck me harder.”

At first, Reiner was worried. He wanted to be gentle, he wanted to savor you, and he wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt you, but your request had him picking up the pace, ramming into you until the familiar slapping sound of sweaty skin filled the room.

You unraveled and became completely undone, letting out loud moans every time he drove his cock into you. Reiner thought the sound was incredibly euphonic as it fell upon his ears. You were like this because of him.

“How’s this?” His voice was husky and deep beside your ear.

Reiner was pleased by your lack of response. You could only nod, overwhelmed by the dual sensation brought on by him and the feeling of your quick fingers against your clit. You secured an arm around his neck again and wrapped your legs around his torso, clinging to him like he was all you needed. He wished that was how you really felt.

“Close…,” you murmured, and Reiner deduced you were warning him that you were near your orgasm. He could tell by the way your walls began to spasm.

Reiner felt the small of his back tighten, and he knew he was close too. He was torn between his release and holding himself back, not ready for this to end just yet, but his body betrayed him and he felt his cock twitch inside you.

Luckily, you reached your climax first, and Reiner watched in awe as your body seized underneath him, breasts bobbing with every jolt while you worked your clit into overstimulation. It wasn’t long after your orgasm that he made his last rueful thrusts. He quickly pulled out and clasped himself in the curve of his hand. He pumped his length until he released in quick spurts onto your stomach, covering you in his hot seed, and he kept pumping until he made sure he emptied himself of every drop.

His eyes quickly darted over to Eren, not to be odd or anything, but again, he had forgotten he was there. It seemed Eren had already satisfied himself. The creamy, white liquid decorating the bare skin of his abdomen and dribbling down his loose fist was evidence of that. Now that he had appeased his urges, he seemed disinterested as he reached over his desk and plucked a few tissues to clean himself up.

Reiner collapsed beside you, listening to the loud thudding of his heart as it delivered a few ecstatic beats while he caught his breath and began to calm down. He stared at the pivoting fan blades, and then his eyes dropped down to you lying next to him, sweaty and fucked out.

You were laying there with him, and goddammit he wanted to reach his arms out and wrap them around you, pulling you close so he could hold you and feel your heartbeat against his chest. He’d press kisses to your salty forehead, and then tell you how much he loved you. He wanted to stay like this.

Reiner's ideal vision dissolved once Eren stopped at the edge of the bed and extended his hand for you to grab.

“You wanna join me for a shower, baby?” Eren asked.

Of course, you took it, allowing him to support you until you were sitting up.

You released an exhausted laugh. “Yes, please.” You then turned to Reiner and arched your eyebrow in surprise. “By the way, not bad, Braun.”

Reiner gave you a small smile in return, but said nothing as he watched you cover your breasts with your arm and let Eren hoist you off the bed. You two slid past him and headed out of the room, but not without Eren looking back over his shoulder, shooting Reiner a shit-eating grin, as though reminding him who you’d always belong to.

3K notes · View notes

sockablock · 3 years

Note

hey are requests still open bc I am still FULLY CRYING about Molly coming back to life holy SHIT. I have a thing I want to request and that’s Molly having to come to terms with whatever changes his body went through - new blood hunter abilities, longer hair, the much larger scar from Lucien’s v gory death - after he comes back to life.

Molly doesn’t ask what happened to Nott. He doesn’t ask them where they are. He doesn’t even ask who Essek is, and only gives Caduceus a friendly pat on the shoulder before turning away and wandering off.

His feet are bare on the soft teal grass. This time of year in the Blooming Grove, faint glowing insects hover around his ankles. The leaves of the old blue wisteria trees hang like a sheet across the sky. He is wrapped in a cloak of quiet moonlight, grey on the graves as he passes by.

Eventually, he comes to a lone headstone. It is long, and flat, and smooth. He sits down.

If he is different in any way, nobody says. It’s taken him a few days to find his words again, and it’s clear that his memories are still trickling back. Veth had joked that he used to be more entertaining, but they all know that his returning in any capacity is already nothing short of a miracle. To the Mighty Nein, he is still as miraculous as before.

To himself—to Mollymauk, he thinks he’s a bit leaner. He’d never really been one for rigorous training—not aside from what it took to throw a sword and catch it—and yet, this body seems hardened, now. It’s still a bit sore in some inconvenient places, and the tall one, Caduceus, mentioned that he shouldn’t do anything too strenuous to avoid opening his scar. This newest mark runs like a seam down his shoulder to his navel, making the rest of his scars look like paper cuts. He isn’t exactly sure how to feel about that, yet. Beau offered to help him design a tattoo to cover it, and he isn’t sure how to feel about that yet, either.

A faint breeze runs through the Grove, tousling his hair. It’s longer now, and Molly might have liked that more if he’d been around to enjoy it. He suspects that he might have been, in one way or another, though not nearly present enough to make the executive choices. Otherwise, he might have tried braids. Maybe hair dye. Not only that, but the...what had Caleb called him? The “previous occupant” had taken off Molly’s horn charms and necklaces. For the second-life of him, Molly can’t remember if he’d kept them. He can’t remember much about the last ten months—which might be alright. He doesn’t know if he wants to.

(He does remember some things, though. He remembers taking his shirt off the first night at the Grove and seeing the other scar left behind. It is closed now, and healed well over with blood magic, but when Molly reaches up and traces it down, he can feel how the cut drips into his abdomen. He remembers how it felt to have the blood pouring over, to boil with fury and die of shock, under the stars.)

He looks at them now. They haven’t changed a bit.

Another wind kicks up. Molly isn’t sure exactly what time of year it is, but he shivers. The Clays are kind, but the whole family towers over Molly, so their spare clothes fit him poorly. Firbolgs are also—well, furred—and Molly suspects that this borrowed tunic is on the thin side. His tail curls inward as he realizes he’s going to sneeze. He feels his muscles tense, he breathes in—

And suddenly, something warm is draped across his shoulders. He glances up.

“Oh. Yasha?“ His voice is strained. It feels as if Molly hasn’t spoken in a year, but at the same time, he feels like his throat is worn. Almost like he’s been giving frequent speeches with wild abandon. Now that he’s had some time to recover, the combined effect sounds like someone trying to remember how to talk, but only being allowed to do it through a rusty pipe.

“Come to join me in my musings?” he still says, stubbornly.

“She’s not the only one. ‘Sup.”

Molly doesn’t have to turn to know that Beauregard has walked into the rows of graves just behind Yasha. The two of them have been pretty attached to each other lately, except for when Yasha comes to check on Molly. The strongest part of him, the part that hung on the longest, is privately quite pleased by this.

“And you’ve given me your cloak.” He grins, but just at Yasha. “How kind of you, my dear.”

Okay, so not that privately.

“I was worried you’d be cold,” Yasha says, concern endearing. “Sorry your old coat wasn’t doing better. Jester says she can probably Mend it, or try to paint you a new one—“

Molly waves his hand. “No, no need, dear. I should do it. It’ll give me a thing to work on.”

Yasha nods. “I’ll let her know.”

Distantly, Molly can hear footsteps approaching. He counts four, maybe five pairs, if one of them is lighter. After a moment, there’s the sigh of cloth, and six pairs are walking.

Movement joins Molly on the headstone. He turns, and now Beau is seated beside him. Yasha stands like a guardian at his back.

Both of them are much, much wearier, Molly notices. Even though it’s been less than a year since his “death,” Beau is riddled with new scars from combat, and Yasha’s tattoos have gotten much bolder. Oddly, that’s reassuring.There’s something in the fact that Molly’s body changed, but theirs did too. And even if he can’t remember it, that’s something they have in common.

On the other hand, though, it makes him feel...he shakes his head. He gazes outward.

He asks, “Why did you follow me, then?”

Beau responds first. She does so with a snort. “Of course we’d follow you, you idiot. You were our friend—or...okay, technically, at the time you’re actually a crazy cult leader—“

“No, I meant—“

She cuts him off. “Right, yeah, details. Not important. Listen, it...it was a whole long thing, and it was complicated, but the important part is that we really, just really wanted you back. That’s why we did any of it. All of it. And why nothing could stop us.”

“Not even me?”

“Hell, no. Since when could you stop me?”

Molly chuckles at that. He glances at Yasha. “Is that true?”

“Which part?” she says. Then she says, “Yes. It is.”

He matches the tiny smile on her face. Then he turns back to stare at the woods past the graveyard while behind him, the rest of the Mighty Nein come to a halt.

His smile widens. “What I was actually trying to ask, though, is why you all followed me here. Just now. I thought you were going to prepare for dinner?”

“My parents took over,” Caduceus says. “They told us to take a break.”

“Besides!” With a burst of jewelry and her flouncing skirts, Jester squeezes onto the other end of Molly’s headstone. “We wanted to spend more with you!”

“Now that you’re interesting again,” adds Nott, taking a seat at the base of the stone with Fjord. He reaches up to wink at Molly, “Hey, roomie.”

“I thought I should get to know you as well,” says the new voice. Molly remembers that his name is Essek. “We, ah...we are both purple, so that is something we already have in common.”

Molly laughs at that. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Caleb. “It’s like there are two of you now. Like your shadow. Or a duplicate.”

“I am still the funny one,” Caleb says. “I plan on defending that title. Even from you.”

Molly laughs again, and this time, he does turn. He can see that the whole group have gathered around him now, sitting beside him, standing behind him, in the grass.

They are all so tired. They are all much stronger. Molly has gathered from the scars on their bodies—as well as from the scars on his own—just how powerful they must be now. He knows that he isn’t the same, either. Sometimes his blood feels like its boiling. Sometimes he is moving, and he can swear that it’s through snow.

But the Mighty Nein are here. There are nine of them, now. And that, he thinks, in and of itself, must be a miracle. And as he looks at them now, drinking their presence in, he thinks...

Maybe some things haven’t changed, after all.

—

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN

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spiked-tea-writing · 3 years

Text

and they were roommates?!

SapnapxFem!Reader

Summary: Imagine being in love with your roommate, couldn't be you.

Pronouns: She/her

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 2.3k

A/n: I don’t watch or know anything, I just like these people and I had a concept. Also, he and Dream aren’t roommates in this for the sake of I can’t figure that out. Also also, my timeline is probably fucked but who cares

The dynamic in the apartment was...interesting to say the least

In the two years of living together, it had shifted a lot

In the beginning, you and Sapnap had been... less than cordial to each other

Both eighteen, fresh out of high school, off to college thinking that you knew everything.

There was lots of fighting, to say the least.

All of the “No it’s your turn to vacuum”, and “I swear to god Sapnap I will punt you halfway across the world if you eat my pineapple again”

The only reason you didn’t slit each other’s throats was that if the other person was dead, who would pay rent?

It was the summer before college started at the time, and you were working long hours minimum wage so coming]’/ home to an annoying prick caused a crap ton of conflict

After a few months of being little bitches to each other, y’all got piss drunk in the apartment and it all just sorta fell apart

Got that good drunk therapy, spilling your deepest secrets

(y’all were underage but shhh)

So by the time college started, the two of you had become actual friends and started enjoying each others company

A few months into the friendship, you encouraged him to post the video of “Minecraft, but it’s Raining Cats and Dogs” on a whim

Lmao little did you know what you had created (we’ll get to that later)

You mocked his train of thought constantly, laughing at the timing of it all.

“Ahhh yes, I am Sapnap, the genius who thought it’d be great to become a YouTuber while in my first year of college.”

He’d always just laugh and roll his eyes, playfully shoving you while stealing your chips.

The next few months were a haze of studying, work, and him.

It was truly a friendship of convenience since you guys were so busy, him starting his youtube career, and you working restaurants, then school on top of that, it was just easy to find friendship in your roommate.

Of course, he had his close friends which he spoke to over the internet, and you had your friends from back home, but as for college, it really was only him.

You guys had a fun time just hanging around the apartment, and it became so easy to be friends with him

And it WAS truly platonic (we’ll get back to that as well)

The best thing he brought to the friendship was his animals

You got on fabulously with Cash and the cats

They were all so cuddly and honestly loved you more than him lmao

You guys were just trying to get degrees and not be too stupid, was that too much to ask???

Well to a certain 2020, it was

The beginning of that year was great.

He was sorta realizing that he liked putting himself on social media, but on top of that, it seemed like a great start to a year.

February brought him to twitch, which you loved

You found it hilarious how he would just sorta play games and have people watch him live.

But you were incredibly supportive, as a friend, of course

He really liked it so, you tried to ignore the shouting at three am, and the loud anthems at night

Sure you’d give him hell in the morning, but why kill his fun?

March started great, as it was his birthday.

You got him a glittery lighter as a gag, but it was the perfect gift for a broke-ass college student

Then a certain pandemic came a-knockin’ on y’all’s door

It was a hard hit on both of you.

An executive decision was made that you two would stay put, but being away from your families was incredibly tough.

That spring was the birth of The SMP.

It brought him so much joy, which in turn made you happier.

The rest of the school year was a blur of zooms and test

Nick nearly killed you on multiple occasions when you made fun of the fact that he was learning computer science over the computer or made him help you figure out what the fuck zoom was since it was tangentially related to his major

“SAP HELP ME YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS ITS YOUR FUCKING MAJOR!!!”

“NO, IT’S- AHHHHHHHHH”

Yall got more than a handful of noise complaints shhhh

That summer was fill was spent trying to fill the time in weird ways

Note to self, he can’t cook (which you learned the hard way)

Yall spent so much time trying to cook and bake, then sweating off the calories working out with The Fitness Marshall lmao

As sucky as the situation was, that summer was so incredibly fun for the both of you, and truthfully the only arguments were about what music to blast

“Y/n I swear if I listen to Cosmicandy one more time I will drown you.”

“Well if I hear American Idiot one more time someone’s knee caps are getting harvested.”

(that argument was settled with Elton John.)

When school started up again that fall, something shifted

After a year of actual friendship, you guys were no longer just friends, and the tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife

You had watched every single one of his streams since day one, but within 2 seconds of his Love or Host, you felt the need to hurl for some peculiar reason

It was bizarre because there was no way you could ever like him, of course not.

Within the apartment, you guys suddenly got a lot more touchy, but only because it was getting cold with winter and all that jazz.

It wasn’t because yall were secretly in love, what is this, a romcom?

The number of times you guys woke up on the couch, definitely not cuddling was too many to count

You started sitting in his room while he streamed, definitely not watching him with heart eyes because of how excited he got

He always had a pot of coffee full and a 6-pack of monster in the fridge since he knew you ran on spite and caffeine, and definitely not so that he could spend more time with you in the early hours of the morning.

The laundry started getting all mixed around, resulting in just sharing any sweats, hoodies, or socks.

The same thing went for food.

No longer was anything labeled with a name, if it was in the fridge, it was fair game (unless there was a post-it because come on, yall weren’t monsters)

But no, y’all were just roommates, not dating, lets make that clear.

Feelings? We don’t know her.

This entire time, his friends have had to hear about you rip.

But they got front row seats to your relationship development

“OMG my roommate is the worst she ate all of the frozen strawberries”

“Y/n kidnapped Storm all day while she studied and I thought I lost the fucking cat asjvdk”

“I had to run down and talk to the landlord because we dropped a pot of pasta sauce all over the carpet and couldn’t get the damn stain out.”

“She is so nice in preparation for a family dinner zoom, she ran out to the local Filipino food place and pick stuff up.”

“Sorry I’m late I overslept and didn’t want to wake up Y/n.”

They weren’t stupid, and could clearly see how whipped he was.

Dream and Geroge teased him about it constantly.

“Woah, calm down Sap, you should probably tell her you love her before you propose.”

“Yeah Dream’s right, it’s kinda weird that you’re living together before ever dating.”

He always flushed and denied it with a shake of his head.

He wasn’t into you, are they crazy?

Quackity and Karl messed with him in more unorthodox ways

There are a solid number of clips where they are fake crying over how he’s cheating on them, and even more tweets to match

It only got worse when you met them accidentally.

He was chatting post-stream on a video channel with George, Dream, Karl, and Quackity, and just his luck, you came into his room.

Like of all the times you could walk in, it was the time he was with his five closest friends but I digress

“Yo I got some extra tips yesterday so I picked up some extra Red Bull if you want to do one of your weird all-nighter streams.”

“Y/n I’m on channel.”

“Oh shit sorry my b. Catch.”

All the guys heard was a thud and a groan from Sapnap as the six-pack hit him in the chest.

Dream was the one to recognize your name.

“WAIT IS THAT Y/N I WANT TO MEET THEM!”

You could hear Dream’s voice through his headphones

“Sap… who is that?”

“No one. I’ll be out in a sec to help with dinner.”

You could hear a British voice come through.

“Oh so we are no one now, huh.”

Another voice piped through.

“Common... ¿Qué intentas ocultar?”

You cut in.

“Your headset it shit my guy. I can hear everything. I’m down to talk to them.”

He let out a groan.

“Fine. But you’re gonna have to do the dishes tonight.”

“Deal. Now move.”

“What? No.”

“Fine bitch.”

You collapsed onto his lap, plucking the headphones off of him.

“Hello, Sapnap’s friends. I am Y/n. A pleasure to meet y’all. Can you hear me?”

You heard a series of laughs through the headset, and a voice came through.

“Yes, we can see you too. I’m Karl, it’s so nice to finally meet his girlfriend.”

A blush rose on both of your faces, and another voice came through.

“Yeah, we’ve heard lots about you. Plus we can’t see your face in that picture Sap sent us. I’m Quackity”

That remark stopped your embarrassment in its tracks.

“What the fuck? How do you guys know me? I’m not even his girlfriend? And what picture?”

Sapnap grabbed your arm to calm you down as another voice cut in, but his one you recognized as his friend Dream.

“Hey, it’s okay. He just talks about you a bit, and the picture I believe was of you holding like three cats with like a red bull can on your head.”

“Jesus fucking christ why do they have that photo??”

He looked guilty but chuckled.

“Because that photo is a damn masterpiece.”

Karl’s voice came back in with a giggled.

“Soooo, Y/n we’d love to hear about you. Specifically anything funny or embarrassing that you have learned by living with him.”

Sapnap let out a groan from behind you as you went off.

“WELL lemme tell y’all, he has no cooking knowledge, well I mean, now he does, but one time, about a year ago, I had I been keeping a pot of water boiling for about an hour, soft boiling eggs, cooing noodles, blanching bok choy, etc. but this fucking genius is like ‘oH tHe HaNdLe Is StIcKiNg OuT. LeMmE mOvE iT wItH mY bArE hAnD.’ Needless to say, he burnt the crap outta his hand and kept the bag of frozen blueberries on it for the entire night. It took me like a solid five seconds to actually help him because I was laughing.”

By the time you had finished that story, you had seen Nick roll his eyes like 5 five times while the rest of the guys were wheezing.

“Yeah, well remember the time you were trying to imitate Rapunzel after we had watched it over Zoom with my sister, and you swung the edge of the frying pan into our head and got a nasty bump on it? At least I moved quick enough to put some ice on it.”

“Ice? It was the damn leftover Slushy that I had been freezing.”

“True, but you got to drink it after, so it was a win-win situation.”

“Sap, I had a bump the size of a golfball coming off of my temple. There was no winning.”

“Fine, you’re just making me sound like such a shit roommate.”

“No that’s not true, you do all of the talking to the landlord, and you at least tried to muffle the noise when you stream.”

“I guess that’s true, but you do like 80% of the cleaning.”

“Yeah but only because you’re working. Plus in the past 6 months, you’ve made coffee every morning, AND made sure I was taking my meds.”

“Those things aren’t that hard and I do it to make sure you don’t die because I lo- care about you.”

“What?”

You heard Dream’s wheeze laugh and remembered that you guys were still on call.

“Smooth.”

You both went red, and Sap moved his arm around you to leave the channel.

The next few moments were complete torture, the two of you just sitting in silence.

You were wondering if he meant what he was about to say and he was scared that you had heard it.

He was the one to break the silence. (mind you you’re still sitting on his lap lmao)

“I’m sorry about that.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. Should you ask him if he meant it? Because that wouldn’t be that bad. Or just pretend it never happened. Nah that’d be hella awkward. Or-

“I love you too.”

“You what?”

Wow, okay your brain is being a little bitch rn, but fuck it. Balls to the walls baby.

“I love you, and I have for a while now. I just want you to know.”

You finally looked him in the eye, and he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Thank god. I love you, and nearly fucking told you for the first time in front of my friends accidentally. Damn, I’m smooth.”

You laughed and he smiled wider.

“Can I kiss you?”

After a quick nod he swooped in and holy hell his lips felt great. His arm wound around your waist and your hands made their way to his jaw as he pulled you closer to him.

The only thing playing in your mind was “and they were roommates”

#sapnap x reader #sapnap #sapnapxreader #sapnap fluff #sapnap fanfic #sapnap fanfiction #sapnap x you #sapnap x y/n

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knifefather · 4 years

Note

Could I ask for a s/o and/or platonic reader with the Bucci gang who likes to smoke weed a bit or a lot? 😅 I mainly do it for anxiety but I can be fun and goofy or philosophical when high and I love the boys lol. It's alright if you aren't comfortable with this ask!

You got it bae!! I love weedie requests, this is a fave lol. I’m going to go with s/o this time because my last weed hcs post was for a platonic reader!

𝙱𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚒 𝙶𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝙼𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚂/𝙾 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚂𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚆𝚎𝚎𝚍 (𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢)

content warnings: marijuana usage, mentions of sex and alcohol abuse *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Bruno

💨 Bruno doesn’t smoke weed as much as you do, but he’s mostly supportive of the fact that you smoke. This is especially if you smoke to help regulate your emotions, sleep, work up an appetite, etc. He would probably discourage you from smoking every day unless they needed to.

💨 Will definitely have a smoke sesh with you! After he gets home from a long day’s work, you would be waiting for him with a fat joint rolled, dinner on the table, and a smile on your face, and honestly? Bruno cannot complain. He enjoys your cooking and then your handiwork while the two of you smoke on the back porch. If you aren’t good at rolling, you’ll pack a glass piece and make sure that it’s clean for him.

💨 Bruno shows a lot of his affection through gift-giving, and he uses your love of a weed as a basis for giving you presents. Often, he’ll buy you extremely exotic buds and the two of you will sample them together. It makes for a very romantic evening in that often ends in the two of you having high sex.

Giorno

💨 Giorno is indifferent about you smoking frequently. Giorno doesn’t smoke weed himself, but he’s fine with others doing it. He doesn’t exactly encourage you to smoke, but he doesn’t discourage you, either.

💨 He feels more comfortable with you smoking pot if there’s someone around you when you do it. For example, he’s perfectly fine with you smoking while he’s around. Giorno is also okay with someone trusted keeping an eye on you, like Bruno or Abbacchio. He would prefer it if you were upfront with him about your usage and didn’t try to hide it from him.

💨 He enjoys that you get can philosophical while you’re stoned, especially if you’re talking about life. Life is something that Giorno understands very well because he’s seen so much of it. It’s always interesting to hear your high take on a certain fact of life. Of course, there are lighthearted conversations that take place that put you both in a giggly mood. Even if he’s not stoned, he always feeds into the conversation and matches the same goofy energy that you give off.

Mista

💨 Would be absolutely fucking elated if you were a stoner like him. You would smoke together all the time, morning, afternoon, and evening. Mista will often try to be romantic and wake you up with a blunt. The smell is so potent that pulls you from unconsciousness, almost as if it were an alarm clock of sorts lol. You normally smile lazily and hit it a few times before giving him a kiss as a way of saying thank you.

💨 On your one year anniversary, Mista takes you to a nearby beach in Napoli and you have a picnic there. By the time you exchange gifts, he has a wicked grin on his face. “I have one more thing to give you. Close your eyes and put out your hands,” he says, reaching for his pocket already. You obey, and he set something soft and aromatic in your hand. When you open your eyes, it was a rose petal blunt wrapped in fresh petals. You’re elated, throwing your arms around him and hugging him. “You can thank me after we’ve sparked it up, baby,” he says, handing you a lighter.

💨 This bastard is super clumsy and has dropped your open grinder once or twice. You always forgive him but... ow. Your soul hurts.

Narancia

💨 Narancia is as excited as Mista is that you smoke weed, but tenfold. Nara is blazing every day, 24/7. He is always wanting to smoke with you because the cuddles and kisses are so good when he’s high. He kisses all over your face, touching you, holding your hand, the contact is just wonderful to him.

💨 Is the kind of person to have awesome high thoughts. The kind of shit that he thinks about while using weed is hilarious. He is definitely the kind of guy that would say something like “When we yawn, do deaf people think we are just screaming?” His eyes are super red as he considers this. You can’t keep it together and end up laughing you ass off, the drink you were consuming coming out of your nose. This makes Narancia laugh, and you guys are stuck in a giggle fit.

💨 He’s the kind of stoner that becomes very social, so he’s incredibly chatty. Narancia talks your ear off whenever he’s buzzed, and he usually feels the best if he’s with you and his friends.

Fugo

💨 Doesn’t smoke, will not tolerate you smoking weed recreationally. He would basically demand that you quit if you start dating on the grounds that he cares about your health. He might actually break up with you because of it, especially if you decided to go behind his back and use it anyway.

💨 If you smoke because you already have a health issue, he would be more understanding, but he is still very distrustful of marijuana and doesn’t want you using it unless absolutely necessary.

Abbacchio

💨 Abbacchio doesn’t smoke weed very often. He usually only smokes if you do.

💨 Weed is a bonding point for you and Abbacchio. When he gets stoned, he’s a lot more outgoing and open than when he’s drunk. You try to get him to switch to bud instead of drinking, and it helps with his emotional problems a bit. He’ll get stoned and open up to you about certain thoughts and experiences that he kept under wraps. It’s very good for your relationship, it helps you communicate when Abbacchio becomes insecure.

💨 Leone is the kind of weed smoker that smokes to relax. He doesn’t require a lot of conversation, he seldom gets the munchies, he just wants to chill. He’s not a fan of going out and doing shit while he’s stoned, so he saves it for the evening most of the time. He loves to cuddle while high, holding you close and enjoying your company.

Trish

💨 She doesn’t smoke as much as some of the others, but she’s still pleased to know that you smoke too. One of your favorite things to do as a couple is smoke weed and then go get pedicures. Trish is so funny when she’s stoned, and the two of you share many laughs while in the nail salon. She’s similar to Narancia because they both giggle at practically nothing.

💨 Is the QUEEN of getting weed nugs stuck in her hair!! You’re always pulling them out before you go out. One time you even found one in her bra after the two of you came home from dinner and wine. When you discover it, she just giggles and says “Oops” before kissing you and dragging you closer by the front of your shirt. She’s a menace, really.

💨 Trish gets really sleepy when she smokes weed, so expect a lot of weed naps in the middle of the day. She never likes to take them alone, so you end up smoking with her and lay by her side after you blaze it for awhile.

#hope you liked anon!!#i love doing hcs like this ahhh #jjba #team bucciarati #bucci gang x reader #knife hc #knife asks #not sfw #cw marijuana #cw alcohol

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tsukishimas-shortcake · 4 years

Text

your date doesn’t go as planned

↦ Character(s): Bakugou Katsuki X fem!reader

↦ Warnings: Some insecure Bakugou because your date doesn’t go as he planned it.

↦ Word Count: 1.3k

↦ Your Momo’s Receipt: Hello! This is my first post on this blog! I hope you guys enjoy it and give feedback! Feel free to make a request!

- Is the type to plan out dates, I don’t mean just picking a place to go and a time to be home by either

- When I say plans I mean basically a minute by minute schedule

- You never just do one thing on dates either so he gets really invested in it

- Checks the weather, picks out three outfits and gets the Bakusquad to vote on them, if you go eat then he searches the menu so he can pretend to ‘recommend you something’, has a time to leave and get back home by and plans to be there and everything on the dot

- But he’s not uptight about it though don’t worry, he just wants everything to go smoothly its not like he’ll throw a major fit if something goes a bit different than planned

- He does get a bit frustrated though and when he does he gets a bit sulky instead of portraying anger

- Expect him to be looking down and frowning more than usual if that’s the case

- Oh and don’t forget the sighing, the slouching as he walks, and the repeated “tsk” that you hear

- The reason he gets frustrated and portrays it the way he does is because he blames it on himself

- Definitely has the “I should’ve planned more dammit” mentality, like boy... you can’t control the weather

⸻

“I’m sorry... I didn’t know the restaurant would be closed today,” Bakugou said as he looked down, his face covered as he dug his face down into his scarf. You looked over a bit confused, normally when his plans go wrong he just denies that that was the plan to begin with. “That’s fine, I don’t mind going somewhere else” You said softly before you look over again, his hands in his coat pockets and his feet sort of dragging on the ground in defeat.

The silence between the two of you began to grow again, luckily it was a comfortable one that you were used to. Your ears perk up a bit when you hear a few “tsk” noises coming from the boy beside you. At this point a few thoughts as to why Bakugou would be so frustrated begin to form in your mind, the most likely being that this was one of the only days Bakugou had off from his internship that matched up with yours, in fact it was the first day in almost a month that you two had the opportunity to go on a ‘real’ date as he would say.

You reached your hand over without fully thinking, slipping it into his coat pocket and tangling your fingers with his. The shock on his face was almost funny, before you hear another “tsk” and he turns his head away from you. A small pout formed on your lips before you lean over just a bit in order to see him, you realized the light blush that dusted the tips of his ears. The both of you stop quickly as you feel cold water hitting your heads, of course it would rain at a moment like this. It quickly went from thin droplets to heavy rain that almost seemed like it was just pouring from the sky, the both of you quickly pick up your speed and try to find some shelter.

Finding refuge under a ledge outside of a closed store Bakugou shakes off his hair slightly, sighing louder than normal before groaning and getting out his phone. You hit the sides of your coat in order to get some of the water off of it before getting closer to him, it was freezing outside and now you’re both almost soaked from the rain so of course you’re cold. “What are you looking for?” You asked softly trying to peak over at his phone “A taxi...” He said softly and shut his phone off before placing it back in his pocket and leaned against the wall

“and of course, my luck, the two services that are open at this time of night don’t come out this way...” he said and just shook his head. “Then lets not look for a taxi” You said as you took out your phone before looking up a few things. He stared over at you, watching your fingers swipe across the screen and tapping a few times before you looked around, up and down the seemingly empty street. You smiled before putting your phone away and grabbing his hand and walking quickly in what to him was a random direction.

“What are you doing?!” He said barely below a yell, obviously confused as to why you had pulled him back out into the rain, which thankfully was much lighter than earlier. “Let’s go!” was all you said before you grabbed his hand with the both of yours and began to pull him harder in the direction you were going. You both get into a slight jog before you get to a building, you open the door and start heading up the stairs. “What are we doing here?” He asked, his voice laced with annoyance that he was soaked again, but now less frustrated since you were both inside somewhere that was warm. “We’re going to eat.” You said as you continued to walk up the flight of stairs that led to a small restaurant. You both took off your coats, leaving them at the door since they were soaked, and knocked your shoes on the side as to not get the floor wet.

While Bakugou was still taking off his coat you went and asked one of the servers about a table. You smiled before waving him over and Bakugou headed to the table, following a bit behind you. You both sat down, him next to you since the table was against the wall, resembling a bar. “I’ve actually wanted to try this place for a while, they stay open later at night because their main customer base is made up of college students, so if we have to we can wait out the rain until another taxi service opens.” You said softly as you looked through the menu, Bakugou just looked at you, his stare while it was obviously warm it was also holding a hint of guilt.

“Okay Sparky, what is wrong?” You said as you shut the menu and turned to face him, his vibe ever since you found out that the restaurant he wanted to go to was close has been gloomy and you were getting frustrated since he normally opens up about small inconveniences immediately. “Don’t call me that.” He said in his normal tone with a slight snap, before he turned towards you, he placed his hand on his leg, his palm up before looking back at the wall. You took it as an invitation to hold his hand, when you grabbed it he just looked at you before looking down at your hands.

“I planned our date today...” He said as he began to play with your fingers, you hummed in response, trying to drag out more from him “...The restaurant was nice, normally you have to make reservations but every few weeks they’ll take walk in customers...” He said softly and slouched even more in his seat “I thought it would be open but it turns out the owners were going out of town so they closed early today. I also planned on going to this little cafe after... they have nice desserts there, but since we didn’t even eat dinner I didn’t want to go... and then it just had to fucking rain.” He said with a scowl as he rolled his eyes.

“Baby you can’t control the weather it’s okay.” You said softly as you began to play with his fingers too “I know but... we haven’t been able to meet up recently and, I don’t know I just wanted it to be nice you know?” He said softly, almost showing that he was actually upset. You grabbed his face in both of your hands and made him look at you.

“Here’s what’s going to happen blast boy, the date isn’t ruined and neither of us have to study or work until late tomorrow anyway.” You said before making him look at you, moving to be in his sight as he tries to look away rather than move his whole head “We’re going to eat here, then we’ll hope that the rain dies down and even if it doesn’t we’re going to sprint to the nearest subway station, catch a ride to the stop closest to home, we’ll stop by the convenience store on the way home and buy some of that ice cream we like, and then we’ll head home and I’ll just spend the night in your room and we can watch movies or something.” You said softly, before smiling wide “Dinner, dessert, and I even added in me sleeping over” You said and he smirked slightly before just turning to look through the menu his hand never leaving yours.

“I guess that doesn’t sound too bad...” He mumbled, the small smirk staying on his lips for the rest of the night.

⸻

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mirrorforevers · 4 years

Text

heavenly nobodies (or “the fog”) • graham/reader

this is a bit heavier than usual, ladies. proceed w caution. tw for mentions of abusive relationships, drug abuse and reader has no self-esteem at all. nothing too descriptive in that sense though

on a lighter note, reader n graham are basically two lost adults acting like petty children

a quick disclaimer: its not my intention in *any way* to glorify or romanticize drug abuse or basically anything any of these characters do - its messed up shit. this is fiction, don't take it seriously, please

if this fic was a song, even though its titled after a lush song, it would be lark by angel olsen i guess. might have a sequel someday i dunno

+18, as always. contains smut. this is sososososo long and has went through so many rewrites im sorry. but i do think its my best fic yet!

set in the mid 90s

word count: 3.780

You still remember the day it began.

A nasty fight took place between Graham and Alex. You only got involved because your relationship became one of the topics of the heated debate. Long story short, Graham basically screamed at you two that you, Y/N, were wasting your life away by dating someone like James.

At first you were blind with rage and defended your decadent relationship while insulting Coxon until your throat burned from the screaming match, but afterwards, after you caught yourself thinking a little too long about how James' eyes sometimes seemed to hover over you with an indifference Coxon's never, ever showed, and how it hurt to see Alex in the arms of an entire sea of more attractive women than you - and how shallow you've become for even trying to excuse his behavior with something as empty as the fact you weren't as stereotypically beautiful as the other girls he screwed, you noticed something wasn't quite right about the entire situation, but you still felt shivers at the prospect of telling him you were sorry. He also had a lot to apologize for.

The fog. That's what's been messing with your mind lately. And Graham's. And everyone else's.

It's hard to think about things clearly as they happen in your life when all you feel during most of it is hedonistic, empty bliss. Everything moves in slow motion. The regret, the harsh words, always come afterwards, like a sudden car crash, after people realize the very real consequences of what they said and done while they were immersed in their own very temporary, elusive, pleasures. The fog also made you bitter - not only you, but Graham, Alex and the other boys as well; your relationship with them as a group of friends and individually, each in a different way, consequently turned into a toxic, resentful mess of chaotic feelings and unresolved conflicts. Your relationship with Graham was by far the most affected.

You grew up together. You went to the same college. You very briefly had a thing. He drew you lots and lots of times, you haven't lost a drawing. You realized you didn't love him like *that* and he was okay with it. You were still as close as ever.

Then you met his other friends. In the beginning, he was so excited about this whole "band" thing. The boys were funny, compelling, undoubtedly hard to deal with sometimes, but you got them quickly. Their music very gradually became successful - they deserved it. They sounded so good together. You noticed Graham was a bit jealous of how you interacted with the other boys sometimes. Damon and Dave were the first ones who tried (hard) to bed you, but Alex, effortlessly, was the one who got to.

One night turned into two, three, fifteen. Then into a fucked up prototype of a relationship around the time their stages got bigger, more packed with screaming teenagers and all of you met her – heroin. Graham got proportionally and gradually more distressed and anxious each day. You didn't know which one of these things disturbed him the most, after all, he didn't speak to you (or anyone, for fuck's sake) like he used to. Thousands of little things began to intercalate and swallow everything you've built together.

You've started to hate him - he refused to speak to you about what was bothering him, and you barely talked outside of the inevitable circumstances. Meanwhile, Alex dragged you even deeper into his questionable lifestyle and you shrinked into it until you could pretend it fit you like a glove. You felt so small. Invisible to everything and everyone who truly mattered, even to yourself. You tried to reach out to the one who mattered most plenty of times, but every time you tried to reach out to him it would end up in screams and even more resentment. It seemed like there was no way back - he hated you as well because he thought you were just like Alex. It felt like a knife was twisted in your stomach when he said it the first time. You pretended it didn't hurt the other ones - those were the nights your binges were the worst and you'd vomit yourself to sleep, though.

Everything was leading you to one of those nights again, until you heard a knock on your door. At this time of night, it was definitely Alex.

You tried to tidy yourself up as much as you could in a matter of a few minutes. You thought you weren't as effortlessly beautiful as the other women in his life - as if cheating had something to do with appearance and not with his character, but oh well - and you felt like you had to at least try to keep up with their pace. You washed your face, smeared some foundation on some old stretch (and track) marks and tried to pretend his presence was the brightest spot on your day. He disguised so much criticism under the pretense of worry, leaving you feeling so bad about yourself, but you needed his approval like you needed air on your lungs (or opioids on your veins) for some reason you couldn't quite explain.

You open the door, holding your breath while you tried to ignore the pit that grew on your stomach just to find out that...

"Graham?" You were simultaneously relieved and revolted to see him on your door. Adrenaline ran through your veins. You didn't realize how afraid you were of him - you've only hurt one another with words, but still, you were afraid to cross eyes with him just because you felt like it would start another fight and you would simply never speak to each other ever again, not even to fight. You were afraid of how deep your friendship has corroded.

He was visibly hurting, just like you. It comforted and hurt you to see it.

"You were waiting for him, weren't you?" He noted, vaguely motioning towards the lipstick on your lips. You felt pathetic.

"What are you doing here?" You quickly wiped the lipstick off your lips while he looks around, not really knowing what to answer. His eyes, puffy, somehow indicated he wasn't there to say he was sorry. At that point, you didn't even cared who was in the wrong. You just wanted to know why he was there.

"Just came here to tell you that... I'm leaving Blur, and... I'll be moving to Germany with a friend. Tomorrow."

"What kind of joke is this?"

"I wanted to tell you because... I felt like we got so used to each other's presence t-that... even if you're relieved by the news, uh, I think you should know in advance."

There was no mischief in his eyes. There was no point in joking with something like that. It's not like you were comfortable enough with each other to joke with each other nowadays anyway. That realization crushed you and anchored you to the very confusing and tragic reality just laid out in front of you.

It was so uncharacteristic. You knew of his tendency to run away from these types of situations and this time he simply didn't. Your mouth refused to close. "I-I don't understand. You... You can't... You can't just do that. You have a fucking gig tomorrow!"

"I won't justify myself to you. Just... take care of yourself and... don't let that leech suck the life out of you more than he already did."

"You don't understand. You don't understand anything. Is this about him? Again?" In yet another wave of adrenaline, you pulled him inside your flat and he just lets you. "Are you moving to bloody Germany because of what went on between us today?!"

"I don't care that you don't love me. I care that I can't go for a fucking day without seeing you waste away your life with him. If he was someone that made you happy... but he's just killing you. I can't deal with that."

Still in shock, you pulled him in a desperate kiss. It was not an attempt of making him stay, but something else entirely new. He had to say he was leaving so you could really know, in a matter of a few seconds, how much you needed him there.

His reciprocity simultaneously broke your heart and filled it with hope - you knew how far your relationship with Alex went and how tough it would be to break free from the chains he's got your heart tangled in, but at the same time, Coxon kissed you in a way no one else ever did. He loved you like no one else could. And that's how you noticed how easily you clinged to any sign of true affection given how much Alex's been neglecting your emotional and physical needs lately. Everything was about him all the time, it was a monologue. Graham and you had a conversation.

(A conversation that lasted all night. Thankfully, Alex didn't show up. He must've been talking to someone else.)

Instead of sweet nothings and love confessions, funnily enough, you and Graham exchanged soft "I hate you"s after the deed was done. You both hated the situation you were in. Hated that even though the passion burned hot as fire between you, you were stuck in a mess bigger than everything that just went through both of you. But never each other. You just couldn't name the feeling right.

Perhaps needless to mention, he stayed in the United Kingdom. Instead of sitting and talking like adults about what you felt about each other though, the bickering somehow became even worse.

Of course you started to take his side on fights more often. Mock Alex's behavior together more often. Something definitely changed between the two of you, but it still wasn't enough. Graham was still furious that you wouldn't give up on James. You were still furious that he wouldn't take your relationship with Alex seriously. It had its many faults, yes, but it was special in a way no one else grasped and you were raised to think that people shouldn't give up on others that easily, a convention that no modern deconstruction of social norms could take out of you out of a sudden. Not even Graham. But instead of raising your voices and breaking things around you, you've found other means to release the tension between you. Usually in dark corners of untidy pubs, his flat or yours. It became so frequent it didn't need any planning anymore.

Following the opposite path of the earlier days of your animosity, the more intense the fights got now, the lower your voices got. Instead of distancing yourselves from each other in the middle of screams, your bodies got closer like magnets. He could be so tender somehow even when his words stung like venom.

You were living and breathing contradictions. Him in the way he conveys his hopeless submissiveness to you in the way every touch of yours breaks him and the way he just isn't able to cum if he sees you're not having enough pleasure, yet he fucks you like he wants it to hurt and pretends nothing happened after you're done; and you in the way you cling to him like he's your lifeline when he's deep inside of you but isn't hesitant to not look him in the eye on some other nights.

The night of one of the parties thrown by Blur's record company following the release of The Great Escape wasn't one of the latter.

While the lower floor of the venue is frenetic with people immersed in different levels of ecstasy caused by all sorts of different substances, the upper floor is reserved to the lovers, or people who were looking for a calmer place to talk or to relatively safely de-escalate from their highs. You, on the other hand, just wanted to run away from the view of Alex kissing another woman in the event he brought you to. You were almost falling asleep in one of the tiny, dimly lit and cramped rooms when a small, familiar voice woke you up. "Why aren't you downstairs with your future husband?"

You feel aloof. The slightest mention of the one you think you love disgruntles you. "Ugh. I should have known it was you," you grumble, giving him room to share the sofa with you. "You know why."

"I don't. Someone once told me I don't understand anything." He accepts the offer almost unconsciously. It's so interesting to see how his actions contradict his words and posture, just like your actions contradict yours.

"I'm still right about that. Why did you come here? To mock me?"

"You're lost."

"And so are you. Don’t talk. I don’t want to hear it."

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks, calmly, knowing what the answer will be.

It's always a no.

You instinctively move closer to him, as if he's about to disappear in a cloud of dust in any moment. You don't ever want him to leave.

He notices your eyes are glistening when your lips touch, so smoothly and in such a tender way. His hands enter your hair, just below your ears, and you melt at his touch all over again.

The kiss starts out slow, then becomes more and more intense. His tongue slides against yours and you whine, clutching at him like he’s the only thing tethering you to this earth. It becomes so easy to let him settle between your thighs. He runs one of his large hands through your hair, fists it, and pulls your head so he can have easier access to your neck, filling it with open-mouthed kisses. “Why the fuck,” you manage to murmur in between heavy breaths, “do you care so much about me?”

He doesn't answer. His fingers trace the hem of your dress instead, skimming up the side of your leg. You whimper as he moves them over the sensitive skin to the apex of your thighs, his lips finding the side of your throat again. He sucks a mark into your skin just as his thumb caress your core so lightly above your underwear and you whisper, voice trembling with desire: "You're so much better than him."

He's not sure if you're just leading him on, and neither are you. He doesn't even know if he has heard it right. The fog really blurs every line. Reason, feelings, motives. "You never cried over me", he answers, seeking to turn that reality around, it seemed. Your hips buck into his touch, and a moan escapes you when his hand coyly seeks direct contact with your clit, stimulating it with precision from the start. "You truly... don't know shit," you gasp, grinding harder against his touch and losing yourself to his ministrations, the fog of an earlier hit helping in enveloping you in a state of so much bliss.

"Do you want me to lock the door?" His raspy voice takes you out of this world. You nod, a little disappointed by having such a great feeling interrupted for the sake of privacy. Your lips were spit-slick and pinkened, your eyes half lidded. The sight made Graham breathe hard through his nose, but he somehow kept his composure. When he goes to lock the door, you couldn't help noticing the tent you helped build in his jeans. You feel proud of yourself.

He returns with the hungry kisses and eager touches, slowly driving you crazy all over again. His kisses lower down, down... and you pat his shoulders, motioning for him to stop. "I want to make you feel good tonight." He accepts the offer.

You scooch downwards, just above his hips, and you pull his pants and the waistband to his briefs down in one swift motion. He's painfully hard, but that was hardly a surprise. Graham straightens his back just in time to watch you take the reddened head of his cock into your mouth. He claps a hand over his mouth, hips bucking upwards into the wet heat instinctively, your warm breath enveloping his dick and clouding his mind.

Wrapping your fingers around it, you gently jerk him off, slowly sliding your hand from the tip back to the base. He groans, watching you as you fill his senses with a dull warmth. You stare back at him, smiling as he groans at your warm breath.

You run the tip of your index finger tentatively along the underside of his cock, watching with fascination as his cock twitches and reacts to your presence. You lean forward, breathing on the head before planting a soft kiss on the tip. Coxon whimpers, his dick aching from your attention. Tired of the teasing, you begin stroking it, your soft fingers loosely bouncing along his shaft. He leans his head back to the ceiling when you kiss the tip again.

You eye his cock excitedly, before you lean forward and lick his head, swirling your tongue around the crown and flicking it across the tip. His hips thrust forward before you can even react, his mind reeling as your tongue slowly traces along a vein you followed from the head all the way to the base. He groans, and was about to say something when his mind went blank. He sees pure white, his brain shutting down almost completely as you wrap your mouth around the end of his cock and set a steady rhythm to the oral stimulation. His chest rumbles as a deep growl of satisfaction leaves him, shaking through the air, the vibrations in your mouth punctuating his growl with a hiss.

He cracks his eyes open, his glazed eyes staring down to find you staring directly at him. The sight of his rigid cock vanishing between your soft lips made his skin crawl. He groans heavily, grasping your head on instinct and thrusting forward.

You gasp lightly as he shoves himself deeper inside your mouth, pushing against your throat. He moans your name desperately, panting heavily as his hips automatically thrust against you. You stand firm, keeping only the front half of his cock in your mouth, slithering your tongue against the crown and watching intently for his reactions. He was close, his mind firmly on fire as his body reacted on autopilot, trying to extract as much pleasure as possible. He could feel his climax approaching, your soft lips and gentle eyes coaxing him on. You look into his eyes and give an experimental bob of your head, taking him further into your mouth. Feeling the characteristic salty taste of precum on your tongue, you take your mouth off his cock, and before his mind is able to form a cohesive sentence of protest, you take off your underwear and sit on his lap. His hands now squeeze your hip, pulling you closer. Your wetness leaves a bit of a trail on his legs before you sink on his hard, already lubricated cock.

"You're addicted to my cock, aren't you," It's fascinating how Graham's behavior changes when he's drunk. In the best and worst ways. He would never say something like that while sober. You nod in agreement, face flush with arousal and need. "He can't even fuck you," he punctuactes with an especially hard thrust, "like I can." he envelops you in a sort of hug as his broad shoulders and arms now dictate the rhythm you both follow.

"He--c-an't, fuck--"

"Do you think," he takes his entire cock out of you just so he can go even deeper when he says, "he'll hear us... if you say my name out loud?" he smiles when a loud moan escapes your lips, feeling completely in control of your body. You can't even talk anymore, just nod, like a marionette.

"So say it." Another thrust. And another. And another. You follow his pace with your hips religiously, not even slightly ashamed of making the name of the one who's giving you so much pleasure public, as he commanded. You take the last atom of control on your body and direct it to your pussy, clenching your walls tighter around him, an action that successfully tears his thoughts apart, making his eyebrows furrow and his mouth, agape. One of his hands move to the middle of your bodies and, as he looks down at where your bodies meet, begins to stimulate your clit to the rhythm of his thrusts. His groans turn louder when your body moves towards his again, and the sound of your moans, along with the sound of skin against skin and your ragged breaths were the only thing you were able to hear, along with the distant sound of It Could Be You playing in the background.

In a daze, he says your name in that unique way that only he knew how to - like it was part of a prayer and your body was his God(dess). You dig your nails into his back while he fucks you without a trace of mercy. You close your eyes, losing yourself in all those sensations as Graham continued his movements. When he punctuates his now even faster thrusts with a string of "fuck, fuck, fuck" - that's when you know he's close, a suspicion confirmed true as he comes hard inside of you, closing his eyes tightly as he reached his climax. You follow him seconds later.

When he recovers enough to be able to breathe calmly and control his heartbeat, Graham rests his chin on your shoulder. Neither of you say anything for a long time.

And when the spasms of pleasure are gone, Graham's brain decides to go back to work and he realizes what had just happened - again. Suddenly, the sensation of bliss is accompanied by that weird sensation of "What do I do now?". He carefully removes his dick from you and pulls his jeans up, zipping up his pants while you straighten your dress and search for your panties in the middle of the dark. Both without saying a single word.

Graham clears his throat, glancing at the mirror behind the door and seeing his state was deplorable. His face reddened by the heat and his hair a perfect mess. You were in no better situation than him.

“Uh,” Graham said a long time later, breaking the silence. “How long is that arrangement supposed to last?”

"I won't count the time." You responded calmly.

He nods, mystified by you.

#graham coxon #graham coxon x reader #graham x reader #britpop #smut #imagine #reader insert #blur #blur band #90s

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sushiburritonoms · 3 years

Text

I've been having terrible writer's block lately, not enjoying anything I've written, not getting anywhere with WIPs. Poor @darkisrising and @bronze-lorica have had to talk me off edges lately (thanks guys you're the best!). I think I finally have a chapter 3 for Sacred Texts but I'm sitting on it for a while to see if that's the direction I really want to go. I'm soooo sorry for the delay.

In the meantime I was looking through my notes for The Father the Son and the Exile and I found a bunch of scenes I wrote and abandoned as the fic moved in different directions. I figured I'd post some of them because they'll never see the light of day otherwise and because I have nothing else to offer right now.

Originally in Exile, Din and Luke were supposed to make it to Tython. I had them meeting up with Han AND Leia on the planet Ajan Kloss (its the planet Luke and Leia train on in TROS). Its interesting looking back at this, Din and Luke have a different dynamic since I wrote this a long time ago back in March when the story was going in a different direction (I also wrote an homage to one of Writer Owl's fics in the dialogue). I enjoy playful Luke, I don't really write him that often and that's a real shame. Anyways here's wonder wall, enjoy!

Ajan Kloss was a swampy humid hellhole of a planet that no rational, sentient being should visit, let alone enjoy. Of course that meant that Grogu and Luke were comfortable in the sticky humid environment. In fact there was a rare smile stretched across Luke's face and he sounded almost nostalgic as he talked around their campfire.

“There’s a certain type of moss that grows on the trees here that’s edible.”

Din refused to look up at Luke from where he was cleaning their meal. “I’m not drinking any tea you make out of it.”

“It’s more of a garnish?”

Din sighed. “Don’t touch my fish.” He forcefully stuck a stick lengthwise through the fish as an emphasis.

“Grogu should really have more vegetation in his diet. Master Yoda used to eat plants.”

Din snorted. “You’re welcome to try.” It wasn’t like the kid never ate vegetables but they were always fried and covered in spices. That probably wasn’t what Luke was getting at.

“Maybe later. He did eat two whole frogs.” Luke edged himself closer to the fire. “Maybe after this we could swing by Dagobah. You know, assuming we’re not about to trigger some sort of sneak attack or trap. There are tubers I could dig up for him that Master Yoda ate, plus I could pick up more gnarltree bark.”

Din blinked and raised his head up to properly look at Luke. He knew what Luke was doing. He was trying to distract himself with thoughts of the future. It was a tactic Din often used himself--strategize every possible outcome in the hopes the future won’t be as terrifying as it feels.

On the one hand, he was amused and touched by Luke’s continued fixation on Grogu’s eating habits, even if it was hypocritical of Luke given his own poor diet. It reminded Din of some of the older members of the Covert that used to watch Din when he was little. They always used to harass him to eat everything offered to him and gave him sharp nudges when he tried to skip directly to the occasional sweet treat left out for all the foundlings to share. It was very Mandalorian of Skywalker and it felt good. Familiar.

On the other hand, Din really, really didn’t want any more tree bark in the Wayfinder. So Din didn’t really know what to say.

“Hold this.” Din shoved a fish skewer into Luke’s hand. Yeah that worked.

Luke took the skewer with a hint of a smile. “Master Yoda used to eat certain mushrooms too, I think I can safely identify them. Or maybe I could put together an aquarium in the Wayfinder and we could take more frogs with us. I bet I can repurpose one of the smaller cloning cylinders I have in the back and add a filtration system...”

Din shuddered at the thought of living with a cloning vat filled with frogs and the likelihood of frogs, moss and tree bark for dinner several nights a week. Just no. “This is why our people are ancient enemies,” he shuddered. “You live like animals.”

There was silence. Too long of a silence. Din looked up.

Luke was staring at him with a shocked look on his face. “Our people are ancient enemies?” He whispered.

Ah kriff. Din winced. “So I’ve heard.”

“....Oh.” Luke looked crushed. “Nobody told--well. There’s a lot nobody told me,” he sighed. “About being a Jedi.”

Damn damn damn. Din wanted to throw his hands up in the sky.

“I guess that makes sense,” Luke mumbled. He was fiddling with the fish skewer in his hands. “All the other Mandalorians I’ve ever met have tried to capture or kill me. I thought it was just the Bounty…”

“I’m not like other Mandalorians.” Din interrupted, desperate to turn the conversation. It was technically true, probably just not in a way that helped their relationship. Er--their partnership? Their--whatever this was.

“I mean I like you…”

Din froze. What.

“You’re really good at fishing and Grogu loves you. I’d hate to have to kill you.”

Din’s heart restarted in his chest again. Was Luke...messing with him? “You wouldn’t leave a mark.”

Luke blinked up at him innocently and fluttered his damn eyelashes. “I could totally kill you in your sleep.”

The little shit! “I’ll poison your tea.”

“It’s pretty much already poison. I’m immune.”

Heh, true. “Your fish then.”

“I’ll just go grab a frog.”

“You’re staying here and eating my damn fish!”

Luke burst out into sudden loud laughter. It was like a sudden fierce rainstorm in the way it showered over the camp. It startled Grogu, who had been ignoring both of them in favor of playing with some shiny rocks nearby. He tilted his head and then matched Luke’s laughter with a baby chuckle of his own.

“Sorry! I think it's just my nerves talking but that just sounded wrong and so funny--”

Din just shook his head. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what had set Luke off but he didn’t care. “Crazy Jedi.”

“Trigger happy Mandalorian.” Luke gave him a giant smile. “Hurry up and finish this.” He gave Din back the fish skewer and chuckled again. Despite his comment about his nerves, Luke’s shoulders were relaxed and his legs were spread out comfortably by the fire. Din could stare at his lopsided smile all evening, especially as the sun set and the fire highlighted the delight in his eyes. The sun shone through the lighter parts of Luke’s shaggy long hair. It was now untied from the neat bun it had started in and looked soft and golden in the light.

Stars above help him. Luke was beautiful. Din was tired of denying the thought. He wanted to touch Luke’s face with his bare hands, run his fingers through his hair and that was terrifying. He hadn’t wanted to take off his armor for anyone, besides Grogu, in ages. Maybe with Omera...but this was much different. The feelings he’d had for her were a momentary weakness compared to the colossally bad idea this was to develop an attraction for this damaged Jedi. Din had no idea what tomorrow was going to bring. Even if nothing happened, there was the uncertainty of the next day and the next to worry about. Luke was a marked man and every day there was a chance something could take him out. Take him away. The thought burned in him like a chemical fire inside a reactor. Caged deep inside of him, destructive it released, and burning with an intensity greater than Din could stand.

This was why he never got involved with people before he found Grogu. He didn’t know what to do with the intensity of his feelings and how to fit them into his unpredictable life.

“Din?” Luke’s smile fell slightly. “You ok?”

“..Yeah.” Din did what he always did. He pushed his feelings away and tried to focus on the present. What had they been talking about? Food. He sat and thought for a moment. Maybe...

“I have a contact on Tatooine, from a rural town few people have heard of. Mos Epsa.”

“Mos Eps--I thought that was wiped from the planet years ago.” Luke looked impressed.

“It’s still there.” Din handed Luke a cooked fish skewer and settled back with his own. “We could go there, for a while. We’d be safe. I’m assuming we can both eat Tatooine food.”

Luke picked at his fish. “I do miss blue milk.”

Good. “I’ll add it to the list.”

Luke chuckled. “You have a list?”

“Of safe planets we can stop at. We should have alternatives to the drop pods and not be reliant on the New Republic. My list is probably different from yours so we have more options.” Din stabbed his fish a little harder with his skewer to make his opinion of Luke’s employers known.

The smile on Luke’s face got impossibly wider. “That makes sense...Thank you.”

Din grunted. The smile on Luke’s face was too distracting. Instead he looked down at his food. Oh. Right. Damn.

Luke made the exact realization at the same time. “Sorry! I forgot, I can go back to the ship--”

“Shut up and sit down, Jetti.” Din shook his head. He only hesitated for a half second before he reached up to his helmet and unlatched it. He opened it wide enough to take a bite.

“Or you could do that. Of course.” Luke babbled. He turned his head so he wasn’t looking at Din. Which was sweet. But also meant he wasn’t looking at his food.

“Eat.” Din growled. “All of it.” How was it this hard to feed a grown adult? Grogu gave him less trouble. Gods help Skywalker, Din was about to channel some of the fiercest warriors he knew to get him to eat more.

Luke gave him a mock solute. “Yes sir.”

Din began to reach for his sidearm.

Luke responded with a rather unnecessarily dainty bite of fish.

Din began to unhook his blaster.

Luke nibbled at one edge of a fin.

The blaster powered up.

Luke kriffing licked his fish.

“That’s disgusting.” Din gave up. He couldn’t help it--he chuckled as he powered down his blaster.

“Yeah it is,” Luke stuck his tongue out. “Fish is gross.”

“I thought you said you’d eat anything.”

“I do. I don’t have to like it. I didn’t grow up eating fish, it’s both slimy and spikey at the same time.”

“You eat frogs.”

“You can eat a small frog in one bite! I’ve gotten fish bones stuck in my throat.”

“You’re not supposed to eat the bones.”

“Nobody told me that the first time. What part of ‘raised on a desert planet’ does no one understand?”

“You’re an idiot.”

Luke sat back. “I’m done now, mom. May I go now?”

Din sighed. “No.” He held out another fish skewer.

“You got to be kidding me.”

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“How hard is the har--YIKES! NO! LETGO! ARGHHH!!!!!”

‘Yup’, Din thought to himself as he held the struggling, still too skinny, Jedi in a headlock. He had it bad and he was going to regret this.

Tomorrow. He’ll regret it tomorrow.

“DJARIN LET ME GO NOW OR YOU’RE GOING IN THE SWAMP!”

Here’s hoping the desert boy could swim.

#Still bummed I never used any of this #Luke the frog eater #lives on a diet of moss leaves and swamp dew #Luke was actually less damaged in this version wtf sb #I made it gayer but also angstier #I miss the exile universe so much #may the writers block end and the words flow soon #have i posted this already?#I feel like I have argh idk #I still like it #The Father the Son and the Exile #sb fics

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chronicalchaos · 3 years

Text

Wick modern AU: Explained +Some fun facts

Uhm, i was gonna wait until i finish this AU's synopsis and new book cover, but both will be taking a while until they get ready...

And i wanted to post this "overview" for a while now, anyways, here's some fun facts and a summary of the story:

Old book cover:

I'm really proud of Sam's shading, but the twins look weird and Tom looks old...I won't use this cover, 'cus Travis and Duncan are main characters as well and i want to include them on the cover. +My art style changed!

Story summary:

Just a quick thing! I changed quite a few things to fit the narrative and the modern days setting, i hope you understand!

The story of this AU happens in September 2014, a little less than a month until Sam’s birthday, where the Weavers aren't dead– Well, most of them aren't...

The narrative is centered on a curse, that was based on the audio that plays when you pick up Benny's bible, where 7 people are affected by it: Tim, Tom, John, Sam, John's brother/Sam's dad(I won't name him), Mary and James.

Sam's, Travis' and Duncan's side of the story will be more on the investigative side maybe with a bit of comedy(I'm not good with writing that, so it will most likely be just investigation), while Tim and Tom's side will be the more angst and unusual/horror side. Sam will have a bit of horror as well, since he's linked with them by the curse, but the twins will definitely have the spotlight when it comes to horror/unusual stuff.

Fun Facts:

General:

The story happens a week, maybe a bit more, after summer break

Even tho one of the first chapters is set on school, them going to school will probably just be mentioned or implied, Example: Them leaving a school bus

For some reason, i saw a few stories where everyone knew what polio is and how it works, which i felt it wouldn't be realistic, so that won't happen here

It has a lot of paranormal stuff

The summer camp by the Weaver's property is closed and has been like that for a few years now

Just Mary and James call the twins Changelings, the rest of the city knows there are "changelings" walking around, just, not that the twins are them

There's no changelings, they think there is, but in reality it's just a curse(like that's something lighter than a demon switched with a child at birth)

The song that helps me get in the mood of this story when I'm writing is "Far too young to die" by Panic! At the disco

Timas Weaver:

Tim is 12, he'll be 13 in...approximately 3 months

He was born December 30th 2001 and is the oldest between him and Tom

He's almost an inch shorter than Tom

He has a huge burn scar! It goes from a bit more than half of his chest, both his arms, his palms and his whole neck, he got that scar when he was 3 years old

He's does not have asthma, but he does have extreme pyrophobia on it's place

He has flat affect, his face doesn't match his emotions/he looks serious most of the time(I'm so sorry if I don't portrait it right! Please give me constructive criticism if I do something wrong here!)

He's a theater kid and would be quoting a lot of musicals if Mary didn't isolate him and Tom from the world(The theater part only exists because of his and Tom's masks)

The whittling thing exists here, but like, it won't be of much importance to the story, the knife will! But not the whittle part

He despises spiders and it's Tom's fault!

He climbs trees (there's not much I can say here to be honest)

He has this...i don't know if you can call it a quirk, but, he tends to tilt his head to the left, it's kinda random

He's ambidextrous, was left handed, but Mary forced him to learn to use his right hand

He teached himself how to throw knifes...don't mess with him

Paranoia!

Needs therapy

Tomathy Weaver:

Tom is 12 and will be 13 in approximately 3 months

He was born December 30th 2001 and is the youngest between him and Tim

He's almost an inch taller than Tim

He doesn't have Polio now, he did when he was...around 5 years old

His left leg is bigger than his right one, his right feet reaches his left ankle

His left ankle is paralyzed, that's why he uses a leg brace

He's claustrophobic, he developed that on the same day Tim got his scar and pyrophobia

He won first place on a spelling bee before he got Polio and he used to spell when he got anxious, but after John's disappearence he started shuddering, shaking and cracking his joints instead, very similar to how he shudders on the game

He loves spiders!

He is really flexible, but, because of his polio, he can't play around with it anymore

He likes to draw

He has pretty bad scoliosis

Paranoia #2!

Socially awkward baby

Went to therapy when little, needs to go back

Caleb Weaver:

Caleb is 9 years old

He was born August 19th 2005

He's almost the same height as Timas

He was a year old when Tom had polio

He's actually James' kid, not John's

He won first place in 2014's(the year the story happens) county track meet

He dislikes Tim

Lillian Weaver:

Lillian is 5 years old

She was born February 28th 2009

She's a bit tall for her age

She's notorious for making little deals between her and her siblings, like helping them get away with something in exchange of something(getting her out of class during their recess, buying a new plushy, etc.)

She's a really curious and affectionate kid, loves hugs, kisses and especially being picked on someone's lap

She loves bunnies(even tho this isn't a surprise)

Benjamin Weaver:

Benjamin is 14 years old and will be 15 in less then a month

He was born October 24th 1999

He's just really tall compared to the twins (it's kinda funny, Tim and Tom are 4 years older than Caleb, but they are just an inch taller than him)

He's really religious and prays a lot for his siblings' health and safety

He's been trying to take care of Tom after John's disappearence, since Mary doesn't do it, much the opposite, she hides Tom's medicines on purpose

Mary Weaver:

I didn't give her neither an age nor a birthday...i probably need to do that

She had an affair with James, when the twins were 4 and Benny was 6, Caleb was born from this affair

She doesn't hit any of her kids, but she does neglect most of them

On the nights between Saturday and Sunday, she doesn't sleep, she spends this time praying with a candle, then, before they go to church, she writes everything that happened that night on her diary

She has a lot of diaries, she keeps them in the attic

She's a little bitch(i don't know what else to say about her)

Pastor James McAlroy:

James also doesn't have an age nor birthday (i only have the Weaver kids and Sam's birthdays)

He won't appear much, but he does have a big role on the story

He's Caleb's biological dad(i mentioned that like 3 times already)

He tried doing a "honest-to-god exorcism" on the twins, it was just a cover for an attempt of murder

He's a toxic little shit(there's not much I can say about him)

Samuel Burton:

Sam is 12 years old and will be 13 in less than a month

He was born in October 2nd 2001

Him and Travis are Brothers on their mom's part

He's cousin with the Weavers, minus Caleb, they just don't know each other

He can be just as smug as Travis sometimes

He absolutely hates going on ghost hunting, he thinks it's dumb

He has long hair and freckles all over his body

He's just too lazy to tie his own shoes

He's the only one that remembers to bring a backpack when ghost hunting

While Travis is the camera man, he's the flashlight guy

Travis Burton:

Travis is 15 years old and i don't have a birthday for him, well, he would be born in 1999 just like Benny

He doesn't like wearing glasses, but doesn't have other choice, he either doesn't take proper care of his lenses and gets his eyes irritated or he just lost them

He's the face of his and Duncan's channel

He tries to drag Sam to be part of the channel, but he doesn't really want to be part of it

He cusses way too much

He's brave, only because he goes face first into danger without thinking

Duncan:

Duncan is 15 and would also be born in 1999

Big ass coward, sends Travis and Sam to go investigate on his place every fucking time

Entitled as fuck

The "brain" behind his and Travis' channel

He's suspiciously good on researching, he'll find the most unexpected things about you

He's a little shit as well

...i think that's it! Now i can go continue the first chapter and maybe finish it soon

#wick (2015)#travis burton #wick hellbent games #tom weaver #tim weaver #caleb Weaver #lillian weaver #benny weaver #mary weaver #sam #duncan #wick #modern au #wick au

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

Note

Thoughts on the Shadow's Doppelganger, Lamont Cranston

The funny thing about Cranston in the original stories is that, yeah, one of the most famous scenes across all Shadow media is the “Lamont Cranston Talks to Himself” chapter in The Shadow Laughs, where we learn that The Shadow is not Lamont Cranston, but has usurped his identity, and now shows up at his bedside looking like him, talking like him, knowing more about his own life than he himself does, and ordering him to leave town, effectively blackmailing him into letting him use his face. It’s a very iconic scene that exemplifies a lot of what makes The Shadow unique as a character, and you can imagine why so many adaptations have gone with the idea of Cranston being either a hapless stooge bullied into submission, or an actual villain, because that whole scene is very much a horror movie scenario.

Thing is, none of them seem to remember how Cranston and The Shadow’s relationship developed past this. I’ll post this excerpt from Atoms of Death:

"Good morning, Cranston," came a quiet tone from the foot of the bed.

"Good morning, yourself," returned Cranston, rubbing his eyes without noticing the visitor.

"You should say: Good morning, myself," chuckled The Shadow, dryly.

Cranston was pulling down the sleeves of his pajama jacket. He sat bolt upright, staring. Then a slow smile showed on his lips; one that was almost a replica of The Shadow's.

"So it's you," remarked Cranston, sleepily. "Well, I knew that last night. It was about time we crossed paths again. Well, old man, you landed me in for plenty this trip."

Cranston shoved bedclothes aside and perched on the edge of the bed. He found cigarettes on the telephone table; The Shadow supplied a flame from a lighter before Cranston could ignite a match. The millionaire noted that The Shadow's lighter bore the initials "L. C."

"You handle every detail, don't you?" questioned Cranston in admiration. “Jove! I remember the first time I met you. In this very room. You dropped cloak and hat and left me looking at my own face as plainly as if I had seen it in a mirror. Just as it is today."

"And I advised you," recalled The Shadow, in Cranston's own tone, "to take a trip abroad, while I used your identity. You were a bit exasperated at first."

"I must admit that I was. I threatened to have you arrested, as an impostor, until you proved that you knew more about my affairs than I did. I really believe that if it had come to a showdown, I would have been proven the impostor and you the genuine Lamont Cranston. Jove!"

"Jove," repeated The Shadow, quietly, "You have acquired that expression recently, Cranston. I shall remember it for future reference. You have a penchant for acquiring anglicisms during your sojourns in British colonies. Jove!"

"Bounder and blighter," laughed Cranston. "Don't forget those. I still use them occasionally."

Or this excerpt from The Hydra, which is an incredible book where the chemistry between the two really shines:

Lamont Cranston woke up and wondered why his head still whirled. It took him about half a minute to learn that the motion came from the fact he was riding in his limousine. Someone must have put him back in the limousine and Stanley was driving him home.

He didn't have to guess who had helped him on his way, for at that moment Cranston heard a low-toned laugh beside him. He turned to see the black-cloaked figure of The Shadow.

"What did you hit me with?" asked Cranston. "All four of your automatics?"

"I'm only carrying a pair tonight," replied The Shadow

Look at these two dorks, just palling around and getting into shenanigans and The Shadow outright joking around Cranston, like they are just two old chums having a laugh at the weirdness of their lives. The “real” Cranston didn’t show up very often in the original stories, especially in the last stories when Lamont Cranston essentially became the real identity of The Shadow, but when he did, part of what makes him stand out as his own character is that he’s funny. Gibson gets a lot of mileage out of Cranston as this guy who is completely nonchalant and chill about all the weird shit that happens to him, even in The Hydra after he kills a man with an elephant gun, he’s still more or less the same, he largely just walks out of it with a newfound realization.

Relieving Cranston of the elephant gun, The Shadow steered his friend into the closet. Hauling the big weapon with him, The Shadow opened the door to meet and dismiss arriving servants who had dashed upstairs when they felt the house quake.

"Whenever I see this gun," began Cranston, coming from the closet, "I'll remember what I did with it -"

“Quite right," interposed The Shadow approvingly. "What you did to Mance will make amends for any elephants you may have killed. Too bad Mance didn't bring along a few more Hydra Heads.”

Slowly, understanding dawned on Cranston. He'd never compared his big-game hunts with The Shadow's quests for men of crime. He felt that The Shadow's cause was justified, but it had seemed outside the field of sport. It still was, but Cranston, now that he had dealt with a murderer who deserved to die, was realizing that his game hunts were more deserving of rebuke.

His encounters with The Shadow gradually changed Cranston from a useless millionaire wasting his resources and talents on idle pursuits, to...still largely a useless millionaire, except his resources and talents are no longer wasted and he’s gradually grown into a useful ally and friend to The Shadow. The Shadow tends to have that effect on people who work by his side and even Cranston, the guy whose main role in his organization is to just stay away and be useless somewhere else, can’t help but change a little into a better person when he appears.

There’s an interesting article written by Bob Sampson called “The Third Shadow” which refers to the Bruce Elliot run of The Shadow Magazine, which is incredibly maligned by fans and not without reason, the stories all largely suck and the Shadow bears little resemblance to his former self, instead mostly feeling like a diet take on the radio show Lamont, more of an average detective. The theory Sampson puts out is that, during this period, it was actually Lamont Cranston who became active as The Shadow while Allard was busy overseas, and I definitely like this theory. It makes sense specially considering The Hydra sets up for Cranston to become more pro-active and serious:

While not the towering master-mind of Allard, he does become the next best thing: A post-war sleuth. He even indulges in wearing the cloak and slouch hat from time to time (to varying degrees of effectiveness), while trying to laugh like Allard (also to varying degrees of effectiveness) as if to fulfill that forbidden fantasy until he finally gets it out of his system. After all, The Shadow pretended to be him, why not the other way around?

As Bob Sampson put it: “It is always Cranston who explains all and takes the credit”.

Probably very cathartic for Lamont, who for the last 18 years was relegated to being a distant supporting player in his own life. Cranston is still in contact with the agents however. He even receives "assignments" from Burbank.

This entire arrangement could only be with The Shadow's tacit approval. Let us remember, Cranston was not merely some insipid fop. He certainly had done his own share of exploring and was indeed a hunter. He could handle a variety of firearms, was familiar with exotic peoples and their customs, knew how to stalk dangerous animals through the jungle and veldt, but he was not, nor ever claimed to be, a master secret-agent and soldier.

I think it is fitting that the writing is completely different for this period as well. Not the enigmatic journalistic style of Allards exploits, but the witty, modern champagne fizz of Cranston's odyssey in a Post-War world. He feels a full range of emotions. In the Gibson stories, The Shadow is at arms length. In the Elliott stories, Cranston is sitting right next to you on a train or an airplane or roadster.

It’s also interesting to consider how Lamont Cranston has basically become the true name of The Shadow in pop culture. Often times it’s the name people use when they specifically want to reference The Shadow, the supposed “Ghost of Gay Street” hauntings in Gibson’s former apartment took the form of Lamont Cranston, and even in the stories, more and more people became aware of it as the years went by (which also helps reinforce the idea that the “real” Cranston eventually took to acting as a fill-in for The Shadow, to draw attention away from the real Shadow’s operations), and Gibson even mentioned a few times that Cranston was The Shadow’s “favorite” identity along with Arnaud. Which is kinda fascinating to think about and does hint at some weird underlying aspects of The Shadow’s psyche, that his favorite identity is one not his own.

And at last, there’s these passages from The Whispering Eyes, a book that does not mention Allard once, and the very last Shadow novel:

From beneath the seat he was taking his black garb. Cloaked and hatted as he stepped from the cab, Cranston merged immediately with the darkness. He had become The Shadow.

Cranston's switch to his other self could well be attributed to a hypnotic mood. The mental lapses produced through hypnosis were the sort that would often cause a subject to revert to habit. Now, as The Shadow, Cranston was still in what might be termed a haphazard mood. He was skirting through darkness, pausing, changing direction, behaving generally as though avoiding something that did not exist.

Lang had flung away his glasses; his eyes now showed the shining, hypnotic force that the lenses normally softened. He recognized the eyes that met his above a leveled gun muzzle.

The Shadow's eyes, yet strangely Cranston's, for this was one time The Shadow did not care to disguise them.

Which begs the question: Did Cranston succeed in fully becoming The Shadow? Or did The Shadow succeed in fully becoming Cranston?

#replies tag #pulp heroes #pulp fiction #the shadow #lamont cranston

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fa1rytunes · 3 years

Text

pairing: xiao/chongyun rating: mature word count: 3k tw: implied rape attempt tags: atypical angel/demon au, suggestive themes, dirty talk, finger sucking, mutual pining, soulmates

> NO ONE UNDER 16, SUGGESTIVE CONTENT <

ao3 link: here other notes: written for xiaoyun weekend day 1, angel/demon au

When faced with the fact that they have all eternity to be together, angels Xiao and Chongyun choose a path much different from that of their demons.

It was a rite of passage. Usually, they’d have done it alone, but Xiao and Chongyun were like two peas in a pod. One moved, the other followed like his shadow. They completed each other so perfectly, so uncannily perfectly that they had to do it together.

Meeting their assigned demons for the first time, that is.

Both of them sort of hoped that, after meeting their demons, they’d be able to safely return to the tranquil life they’d been living as companions.

They didn’t know why they had been matched together, but it was not exactly uncommon for angels to work in pairs. However, at first glance, Xiao and Chongyun made an odd duo.

Xiao had become an angel after living a very troubled mortal life. He had his fair share of blood on his hands. And… It wasn’t all good blood to have on one’s hands. While he had spent most of his mortal life working as an emergency surgeon in an ER, he had also lived a double life, helping criminals. He wasn’t sure he really deserved to be made an angel, but the role seemed perfectly suitable for him, because of his tendency to save and protect anyone who asked.

As for Chongyun, he wished he could remember his mortal life. Instead, all he had to cling onto was the immediate pull he felt towards Xiao after he opened his eyes next to him in the afterlife. Like quite a few angels, his memory had been wiped clean. This was a new beginning for him. No one really knew why some angels remembered their mortal lives and some didn’t, but all figured it was part of someone’s plan. Nevertheless, what remained of Chongyun’s mortal life was his personality: meek, but always cheerful, trying to keep a positive outlook on everything—quite the opposite of Xiao, who had a temper that pushed away pretty much everyone else. Only around Chongyun did his temper mellow out, but nobody quite understood why.

The both of them spent some time in the angels’ realm, getting acquainted with their new state of existence and learning how to use their wings. They knew that this time wouldn’t last.

The notion of time had little meaning to angels, but all angels were fated to meet their demons, and to engage against them into the eternal struggle to keep them from wreaking havoc on the mortal realm. But just like no one had had to explain angels how to fly, or how to cross the boundary between the angels’ realm and Teyvat, nobody had to tell Xiao and Chongyun that the time to meet their demons had come. It was a question of instinct, really. Nobody had to tell them where to go, either.

And thus, they found themselves in familiar territory—for Xiao, at least. The high cliffs surrounding the pool in the middle of Wuwang Hill were a sight he remembered very well from his mortal life. Fireflies floated around the calm waters of the pond, and the sound of frogs and crickets singing into the night filled the atmosphere. Many times he found himself in this area for stargazing. Part of him feared that the fond memories attached to this place would be tainted by what they came there to do, though.

Chongyun gave his hand a firm squeeze.

“It’ll be alright,” he said quietly.

Xiao gave a silent nod in response. He didn’t have the heart to explain Chongyun how he felt, but maybe he didn’t need to. It seemed like Chongyun could read him like an open book, and that was often a relief, for Xiao was not particularly skilled at putting his feelings into words.

They walked alongside one another, their steps in sync on the rocks in the pond, and then on the dirt path that meandered through the hills and the forest. A warm, humid breeze swirled around them. Chongyun’s hand felt cool and soft under Xiao’s fingers. It always did.

They exchanged a quick glance as a wave of shivers ran down their necks. They’re here.

A honeyed laughter echoed from their right, just beyond a large rock on the side of the path. When they came into view, Xiao and Chongyun frowned in unison.

It was easy to guess that those two really were Xiao and Chongyun’s demons. Their resemblance was uncanny. The other Chongyun looked like a splitting image of the one standing next to Xiao, only, he was dressed in navy blue instead of white, with lighter blue details. The other demon was bare-chested, and dressed in red instead of jade green and purple.

What was most troubling, though, was how they acted.

They were laying down in the grass, the demon who looked like Chongyun on top of the one who looked like Xiao, and it took both angels a moment to realize where the demons’ hands were going. They were going in… not very appropriate places. One was firmly groping the other’s ass, and the other’s hand was dangerously close to the first one’s crotch. And they were… aggressively making out. The demonic Xiao lookalike interrupted his kissing session to look up.

“Oh, look, there they are, finally,” he said.

The Chongyun lookalike turned around to stare at the two angels.

“Hm… They look so stiff. Are they made out of cardboard or something?” He nonchalantly trailed his hand on the other demon’s chest.

“Darling, you know all angels are made out of cardboard. They can’t take a joke, can’t have fun, can’t have sex. That’s how dull they are,” he sneered.

Xiao turned around, letting go of Chongyun’s hand, but Chongyun caught his arm.

“I’ve seen enough,” he hissed through his teeth.

He spread his wings, ready to fly back to their home, but Chongyun held firm.

“Are you sure that’s all we need to see?” the blue-haired angel asked.

“Whatever more they have to show us, I don’t want to see,” he replied.

“Oh, a little flustered by our display of affection, are we?” Chongyun’s alter ego asked, smirking.

“Oh, don’t tell me… Those two haven’t fucked yet?! Wow, I’m impressed. Maybe angels really are that prude,” the other demon replied, chuckling.

Xiao itched to shut them up, but he knew that the demons were deliberately provoking them. Getting them to react was, without a doubt, the demons’ goal from the get go. That was the reason Xiao wanted to fly away. That, and the fact that seeing both demons so obviously touching each other, making it very visible that their relationship went way beyond Chongyun and Xiao’s companionship, roused a strange confusion deep within his heart, and he was not sure he wanted to face those feelings.

“Oh—could it be…?! Could it be that they haven’t even told each other they like each other? Oh, dear Abyss, I don’t believe it!” Xiao’s lookalike added.

Chongyun scowled. For the first time since Xiao and him had met, the contact of his hand on Xiao’s arm felt warm, not cool. Concerned by the sudden change in his companion’s energy, Xiao turned back to Chongyun.

“Let’s just ignore them and get away from here, they’re doing this on purpose, they just want to provoke us,” he whispered next to Chongyun’s ear.

Chongyun gulped. His face was painted red all over and, if he had been a mortal, his heart would’ve been racing in his chest at that moment. Xiao felt a squeeze from Chongyun’s hand on his arm and guessed how flustered the blue-haired angel was.

Chongyun wouldn’t have had any qualms about leaving right away if the demons had been wrong about everything they’d said so far. But they weren’t.

The two demons burst into a fit of laughter at the same time.

“Oh, in the name of the Abyss Prince, just look at them! They’re so stupid, they haven’t even realized why they feel pulled towards one another,” the demon who looked like Chongyun exclaimed.

He wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Damn, guys, you’re really passing on an occasion. Did you know that Xiao has a huuuuge cock?” he added. “I mean, look at that bulge!”

Just as he spoke, he stroked the other demon’s crotch through his clothes, and the other hummed in satisfaction, canting his hips under the touch.

“And it just so happens that my darling right here has a mouth perfect for dick sucking, among other things,” the demon looking like Xiao added, grabbing the other demon’s chin and pulling his mouth open.

Without any care in the world, he shoved two fingers inside the blue-haired demon’s mouth, to which the demon replied by greedily licking and sucking on them.

Chongyun was standing there, speechless, and Xiao spoke into his ear again.

“Let’s go, I’ve seen enough,” he growled.

Chongyun snapped back to his senses.

“I… Yes, okay, let’s head back,” he said.

They both turned their backs to the demons and spread out their wings, ready to take flight.

“Oh no, look, honey, it seems like our little angelic guests already want to flee! We can’t let them get away with this, now, can we?” Xiao’s alter ego cooed. “The fun is only starting…”

“Got it,” the other demon replied.

The next moment, Xiao and Chongyun had to jump back to avoid getting slashed by the greatsword the demon waved in front of him. The air temperature dropped sharply, and the angels’ exhale produced mist in front of their mouths.

“Out of our way, hellspawn,” Xiao snarled, calling forth his jade polearm.

“Funny you should say that,” the Xiao double said from right behind the angel. “With the kind of blood you have on your hands, don’t you think that I should be the angel, and you the demon?” He let out a sinister cackle.

Chongyun moved behind Xiao, facing his companion’s red-clad lookalike.

“Careful, demons, you know our strength is equal. There’s no use in fighting,” the blue-haired angel declared.

“Yes, we may be matched in strength, but as for cunningness, we certainly are not,” the demon replied. “Be careful, you two, we just might be able to trick you.”

He smirked, and winked. Chongyun’s claymore materialized in his hands and he lowered his stance, waiting for the demon to attack. On the other side, Xiao and Chongyun’s demon glared at each other with eyes that could kill, silently observing each other, waiting for an opening to strike. As soon as the blue-haired demon moved to swing his blade, Xiao got ready to parry. They engaged in a fierce battle behind Chongyun, delivering hit for hit, without any sign that one of them was going to win over the other.

The noise of the struggle distracted Chongyun for a moment, and thus, he barely had the time to jump to the side to avoid his opponent’s spear. The demon used this opportunity to sneak much closer to Chongyun, grabbing him by the collar and knocking him off his feet. He then jumped on top of the blue-haired angel, holding him down with his spear across the throat.

“Hey, Chongyun, I should take you for myself, make you my little fucktoy, don’t you think? Since Xiao is too stupid and too much of a coward to take you…” the demon said, licking his lips.

“You’re dreaming, malignant spirit,” Chongyun uttered through clenched teeth.

He kicked his knee up into the demon’s stomach, knocking him off from him. While Xiao’s double was getting back up, Chongyun sprinted to Xiao, who was barely dodging the attacks from his opponent. Without a word, the blue-haired angel spread his wings and kicked the ground, and flew just above Xiao, grabbing his outstretched arm in the process and lifting him up in the air. Once they were out of sight of Wuwang Hill, Chongyun dropped Xiao down, and Xiao stretched his wings to fly alongside Chongyun.

Their trip back to the angel’s realm happened in a stunned silence, both of them too unsettled and confused by how the encounter went to dare speak up yet.

Once they finally settled down under a tree, sitting side-by-side, gazing far away into the horizon, only then did Xiao speak up.

“I’ve never heard of demons being this aggressive before,” he let out. “We’re not supposed to fight, it’s pointless.”

“I trust you on that one… you’ve hung around other angels for a long time before we met,” Chongyun replied, and his hand found Xiao’s.

“I have… I was waiting for you,” Xiao quietly said.

As he intertwined their fingers, Chongyun thought about their alter egos’ words. The sight of them making out on the grass had felt surreal. Deep down, the blue-haired angel knew that Xiao and himself were soulmates. There was no denying the pull they felt towards one another. It was magnetic. Most angels met their soulmate in the afterlife, that much was to be expected. But a soulmate could take on the role of a friend, of a sibling, of a parent, and, of course, of a lover.

And although they had spent all this time together, none of them had dared to make the first step towards making their relationship more than platonic.

Now that their demons had made it very obvious that this was a possible outcome for their relationship, the idea seemed almost repulsive to him. Wouldn’t it be the equivalent of giving their alter egos victory over them, to make their relationship more than friendship? Chongyun shuddered at the thought.

And yet, when he looked at Xiao, when he felt the warmth of his fingers between his own, when his eyes dived into the smouldering amber of Xiao’s eyes, Chongyun had to admit to himself that he had thought about kissing him.

He’d thought about it, and then abandoned the idea, because what if Xiao doesn’t want their relationship to be that way? What if they were only meant to be friends?

Chongyun wished that the mysterious entity who was in charge of all of this—angels, demons, soulmates, the structure of the universe, everything—had provided them with more than instinct to deal with all of this.

As naturally as the leaves fall down with the coming of colder months in the autumn, Chongyun’s head fell onto Xiao’s shoulder, his eyes still lost on the horizon. In front of them rolled the grassy, soft hills of this corner of the angel’s realm. Trees grew behind them, forming a dense forest, and the singing of birds and the soft rustling of the wind through the tree’s leaves filled the air. There was nothing but peace, nothing but softness to be found in this realm, and yet, Chongyun’s mind was filled with confusing thoughts brought about by their arch nemeses. They had introduced chaos in their blissful retreat, and for that, the blue-haired angel could not repress a hint of anger.

Xiao wished he could ignore it, too. He knew, deep down, that what he felt for Chongyun was more than friendship, more than a family bond. But he was in no hurry to explore that, since they had all of eternity to fall in love. He wanted to discover Chongyun piece by piece, to learn every corner of his soul, patiently. But their encounter with the demons had casted a seed of doubt in his mind. Xiao had never been one to be forthcoming with his feelings, but perhaps taking his time was a waste, since he knew what the outcome would be, in any case.

He looked down at Chongyun, at the crown of icy blue hair, soft against his bare shoulder, and sighed. Why did it have to matter that their demons teased them about taking their time? Why did it have to matter that they handled their relationship how they saw fit? Just because their demons were very obviously much more than friends didn’t mean that Xiao and Chongyun had to be more than friends right away.

Plus, just because the Sustainer had intended for their demons to be romantic soulmates didn’t mean they had the same plan for Xiao and Chongyun.

But… There was little doubt in Xiao’s mind that this was what the Sustainer had intended. The flutters in his stomach when his gaze crossed the crystalline purity of Chongyun’s eyes, or when the other angel leaned against him like this, or when their fingers intertwined like it was the most natural thing in the world, none of it could lie.

And so, when Chongyun sat up to ask Xiao if he was okay, sensing the trouble within his heart, it was a bittersweet smile that painted itself on Xiao’s lips.

“I’m fine… it’s just…”

“They… they were right.”

“Yes. But… it doesn’t mean that we have to be like them,” Xiao said.

“No, it doesn’t,” Chongyun said, and he smiled.

He took in a sharp inhale before continuing.

“But… I still want to kiss you. And I know that it’s giving them—”

Chongyun could not finish his sentence, not as Xiao leaned forward and closed the space between them in a soft, warm kiss.

“It doesn’t matter what it’s giving them. This is us, it’s none of their business,” he huffed, softly cupping Chongyun’s cheek.

Chongyun’s face had heated up a few degrees, his cheek now feeling warmer than usual under Xiao’s fingers.

“Y-yes but… a-are you…” Chongyun mumbled, trying to get a hold on himself.

“Sure about this? Yes.”

The blush on Chongyun’s face was renewed, and Xiao let out a light chuckle. They were definitely quite different from their demons. Time had little meaning to angels, yes. But it was because they had so much of it that they could afford to take things slow, to savour every bit of the pleasure of falling in love gradually, to learn each other’s mind patiently like a map, one street, one avenue at a time.

“Okay,” Chongyun murmured, and he laid his overheated cheek back against Xiao’s shoulder as he leaned against him once again.

There was not much to add, for everything left unsaid would eventually be said, when the time would be right.

If you liked this, please leave a Kudos on ao3! And you can also comment there, I read and reply to every comment. :)

#genshin fanfic #genshin xiao #genshin impact xiao #genshin chongyun #xiao x chongyun #chongyun x xiao #genshin writing #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #my works #my fics

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whatapunk · 4 years

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Chapter 3!!

I’m not sure how well I did it (as dialogue and I do NOT get along), but writing drunken Kanan/Rhia/Hera banter was a blast for me. I’d also like to point out that I mention the Gorse conflict several times in this chapter and I think most people in the kanera fandom are familiar with that story, but if you haven’t read A New Dawn by John Jackson Miller you should give it a go! Especially if your soul needs every scrap of kanera you can find. As always, thank you so much for any likes and reblogs! You guys are the freaking best.

Title: Endings

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Relationship: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla; Kanan Jarrus/female OC

Rating: m for the profanity, possibly for non-explicit intimacy later

Word Count: 3217

Previous Chapters: Ch. 1 / Ch. 2

Chapter 3

“Force, Rhia, that was delicious.” Kanan placed his fork on his plate and pushed it away from him, feeling more full than he’d been in months. She smiled her thank you at his compliment.

Kanan swirled the contents of his drink around, examining them before taking a sip. He could already feel the alcohol, and he was only one and a half drinks in. He thought back to nights at the bar on Gorse and how many drinks he’d put away all while still being remarkably coherent. He also thought of all the nights he’d spent on the floor of that bar and decided he’d made a good trade-off in his adulthood.

Rhia stood and collected the plates and utensils, taking them over to the sink. Kanan watched her, his thoughts back on the lost memory of her cooking him breakfast that had suddenly made its home in his brain again. He smirked and let out a quick chuckle, realizing the image of her standing at the sink now matched the one in his memory like a mirror- just, with more clothing. She looked back at him.

“Something funny?”

“It doesn’t feel all that different,” he started. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Us, I mean,” he explained. “I had all these things I thought up to say to you but then you were just…” he trailed off, unsure of his next words.

“Just what?” she asked. He shrugged but smiled down into his glass as he drained it for the second time.

“I don’t know. Just you,” he said, his voice just beginning to be swallowed by alcohol-induced giddiness. “I kept thinking about what I should say to you earlier when I was meditating,” he said, ignoring or just not noticing the increase in the height of her already raised brow. “But then I got here and you were making dinner and suddenly we’re just shooting the shit like I’m 22 and you’re…” he paused, frowning. “How old are you again?” he asked, surprised he’d forgotten. He blamed it on the alcohol. She grimaced.

“I’m glad you’ve forgotten,” was all she offered up as an answer. He moved on.

“I’m just saying, you haven’t changed. At all,” he finished. He could hear his tone shifting, becoming lighter than it had been all day. Again, he gave credit to the alcohol. Rhia smirked but otherwise left the comment unacknowledged.

“Since when do you meditate?” she asked as she rinsed the dishes off.

“It’s new,” was all he added.

“Is that a jedi thing?” He looked at her, a little surprised. Rhia knew who Kanan was, but it was still somewhat new to him to hear people talk about it openly.

“It is. I’m sort of a jedi again,” he said and laughed at his own statement. He reached back and rubbed his neck. “It’s weird.”

Rhia finished washing the plates and walked back over to the table. On her way, she grabbed the glass bottle off the counter. She poured her own drink and didn’t bother to look at Kanan. She capped the bottle and set it near the center of the table.

“You know, I don’t really drink… at all anymore,” Kanan offered, eyeing the bottle.

“I’m not asking you to,” Rhia replied simply, quite relaxed. She’d meant it; she had no interest in trying to get Kanan drunk, especially if it was happening as quickly as it seemed to be. However, if he chose to get drunk, she certainly wasn’t going to stop him.

Kanan reached out slowly and grabbed the bottle, a peaceful look on his face. He poured another drink for himself and took a sip.

“You’ll never believe this, but-” and he laughed, caught off guard by how funny his next statement would sound to Rhia. “I have an apprentice- a padawan,” he said, slipping back into his chuckles. Rhia’s mouth all but fell open.

“You what?” she asked in disbelief. “You have a padawan?” Rhia was joking, but she was also very serious. Kanan finished laughing and looked up at her, nodding.

“Yep. And you know, I’m not a half bad teacher honestly,” he said, feeling prouder than he expected to. It was Rhia’s turn to laugh. “I’m serious!” he protested.

“Kanan,” she began. “Who put you in charge of their child?” she asked in the middle of another fit of laughter. Kanan’s face remained tranquil, but he did get a little more serious.

“Well… he doesn’t have parents- not anymore,” he said. Rhia stopped laughing and her expression softened.

“Well that’s… that’s good of you,” she said and took a drink. The more somber moment passing quickly, she looked back up at him with sudden realization. “Shit Kanan, you’re not just a master, you’re like a father aren’t you?” Kanan let out a short laugh that morphed into a sigh.

“Yeah I.... I kinda am. We’re kind of like parents,” he said, his grin turning huge.

“We?” Rhia asked, interested. Kanan looked quickly down at his drink for another sip.

“Yeah uh,” he began awkwardly. “Me and Hera we’re kind of… together.” Rhia smiled at him.

“She’s pretty impressive, Kanan,” she said and he smiled back at her, letting out a breath. “Way too good for you,” she added.

“You are not wrong.”

“Though, I assume she still fits your type,” she said and Kanan immediately rolled his eyes.

“Rhia, I don’t have a type,” he said adamantly, but she’d started giggling. “And if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be people with ‘daddy issues,’” he said, making air quotes. Rhia’s laughter filled the room.

Back on Gorse one drunken night, Rhia had begun taking a long oral history of Kanan’s ex-partners. After around a dozen stories that all pretty much began and ended the same way, Rhia surmised that Kanan seemed to be attracted to lovers who tended to have some either spoken or unspoken issues with their fathers. Kanan protested adamantly and continuously, and this had only worked to confirm Rhia’s suspicions. Upon inquiring about Rhia’s father, Rhia gladly told him that he’d passed away when she was a child. Kanan then accused her of lying to prove her point, much to Rhia’s amusement.

“So,” Rhia began, fighting down a burst of laughter, “you’re saying Hera has a really great relationship with her dad then, yes?” Kanan didn’t look up and tried desperately to hide the fact that he was holding back laughter. He took a drink, hoping to hide his creeping smile behind his glass. In the silence, they both eventually burst into laughter.

Kanan was definitely feeling it. His head felt like it was suspended in a bacta tank and there was a permanently peaceful look on his face. Having been so tense for weeks, this was undoubtedly a welcome disposition. There was something to be said as well for Rhia and the conversation they were having. Not only had it felt so nice to tell her about his family now, she’d made it feel so natural and ok. Not that he’d done anything wrong, but many exes could easily have turned bitter or offered fake support. Rhia, however, had been warm and normal. Telling her about Hera and Ezra felt just as natural as any of their conversations had been seven years ago. Still, there was no doubt- as much as the thought of Hera right now made his heart swell, his reverence toward Rhia in this regard had begun to sow seeds of conflict in him.

Their laughter subsided. Rhia met his eyes from across the table and the seeds began to grow. Kanan downed the last of his drink and gave all the signs of being about to leave. Just before he stood up, however, a very special voice spoke to him from the doorway.

“I wondered where you were,” Hera said, causing Kanan to go from surprised to smiling like an idiot in record time.

“Hera!” he said, and noted the volume in his voice had risen for no reason. He really couldn’t hold his alcohol anymore. Hera’s eyes widened knowingly, going from him to the bottle, and she smirked.

“Captain Syndulla,” Rhia stood up welcomingly and offered her a hand. “I didn’t really get to introduce myself earlier. I’m Rhia Denley,” she said, not seeming at all three drinks deep. She took Hera’s hand gently and the twi’lek returned a smile.

“Hera,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you. I rarely get to meet a friend of Kanan’s,” she added. Rhia turned back to him and they both looked at him as he grinned drunkenly.

“That’s not surprising,” Rhia said. “He never had many of those,” and both women laughed at his expense. “Please, sit,” Rhia insisted, offering her a chair. She then went to the cabinet and pulled out another glass. Placing it in front of Hera, she began pouring. Hera held up a hand at a half.

“Oh that’s plenty, thank you,” and Rhia stopped obligingly.

“We were just talking about you,” Rhia began and Kanan shot her a look, concerned about exactly which part of their conversation Rhia was about to share. Rhia pretended not to notice. “I can’t believe Kanan has a padawan. You should have known this man on Gorse!”

Hera looked at him with pride, but she also took note of the fact that Rhia knew he was a jedi. She then realized Rhia had said “Gorse.”

“I did know him on Gorse,” Hera started. “Or, well, I met him on Gorse.”

Rhia looked at Kanan subtly and for the first time all night, the warmth in her face faltered slightly.

“It was after you… left,” Kanan offered, jumping in. “Maybe like a month after you left. I ran into Hera and swept her off her feet of course.” Hera snorted and Rhia followed.

“I know there is no kriffing way she followed you anywhere,” Rhia said, taking a drink. She turned to Hera, all but pretending Kanan wasn’t in front of her. “He was in trouble wasn’t he?” she asked flatly. Hera laughed.

“Something like that.” Kanan threw out his hands in dramatic disbelief.

“What? You were in trouble- we all were!” Kanan griped. Hera nodded, appeasing him.

“That’s true. Gorse was a mess,” she said and took a drink.

“What happened there?” Rhia asked. Kanan looked at her and closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“You remember that explosives guy, Skelly?” At the name, Rhia threw her head back in a resounding affirmative.

“Skelly! Man that guy was a fucking wack job,” she said and Hera laughed, clearly agreeing. “You met him?” Rhia asked.

“Oh yeah. I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but I have to agree. Skelly nearly got us killed a handful of times.” Rhia was definitely interested now.

Over the next hour or so (eventually none of them was really aware of the time), Hera and Kanan regaled Rhia with how they met on Gorse and the entirety of the disasters and successes of that highly unplanned mission. Eventually Hera emptied her glass and didn’t object to another, nor did Kanan.

Truthfully, the drunker Rhia got the more her insides were a battlefield of emotions. Here she was with two people whose company she was enjoying immensely. But she couldn’t deny that everything that had once attracted her to Kanan was still alive and well. In fact, he’d only seemed to change for the better since she’d last known him. Additionally, she was falling in love with Hera almost immediately. The twi’lek had come off as calm and quiet, and while she definitely embodied those traits to an extent, she was also assertive and commanded attention, even when she appeared meek. Rhia understood why Kanan was with her, and she could only imagine the luck he felt at having met her, let alone being her partner.

Rhia poured another glass, attempting to drown her thoughts, at least until she could be alone with them. She’d lost count of how many drinks they’d each had, but the bottle was approaching its final drops, a sign that the number was quite large. Kanan’s eyes were drooping and she wondered how long he’d last before he’d try to sleep on the floor. Hera was feeling it too, but she’d paced herself and remained relatively composed. Her speech gave her away though; each drink she took seemed to chip away at her filter. It just made Rhia like her more.

“Did you know him when he was Caleb Dume?” Hera asked abruptly, looking at Rhia with an interested expression. Rhia was a bit caught off guard and looked to Kanan for a hint at how to proceed. He met her eyes but said nothing.

“I did,” Rhia started, “or at least I think he was between ‘Caleb Dume’ and ‘Kanan Jarrus,’” she offered. Hera seemed to be contemplating this.

“I didn’t go by ‘Kanan’ yet, but she outed me,” Kanan said, pointing an accusatory finger at Rhia. Rhia rolled her eyes yet again.

“Hera,” she said, turning away from Kanan. “You should have seen this kid,” she started and a few drunken giggles made her pause. “You think he’s bad now? Everything annoying he does now, he did times a thousand when I met him,” and she slipped back into giggles with Hera. Kanan shook his head but smiled. Hera’s face lit up at a thought.

“You knew him when he was a kid?” Hera asked, excitedly.

“Well, not exactly. He was 17 but he was absolutely a kid that’s for sure,” she said grinning back at Kanan. “Though,” she went back to Hera, “if you told him he was a kid he’d get so offended,” she said and cackled with the twi’lek.

“He told me he hates that! Like, defensive much?” Hera said with a laugh. Kanan looked at both of them.

“I’m right here, guys,” he offered, but Rhia and Hera were still too busy laughing at the thought of young, defensive Kanan.

“Hera, do you know what this little teenager did nearly the moment he met me?” she asked. “Keep in mind, I’m quite a bit older than him and I was definitely too old for him when he was seventeen.” It was Hera’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Oh kriff, he tried to hit on you didn’t he?”

“Don’t tell me-” Rhia started, egging Hera on.

“He did the same thing to me!” Hera nearly shouted and the two women doubled over in laughter.

“Wow,” was all Kanan could say, returning to his glass. Eventually Rhia and Hera finished laughing and dabbed the tears from their eyes.

“So how did you figure out he was Caleb?” Hera asked.

“Well, at the time he was running with the smuggler Janus Kasmir,” Rhia started. Hera nodded.

“He’s told me about him.”

“So at the time I was part of a crew on a transport that he and Kasmir hired. Only,” she looked and spoke directly at Kanan, “they failed to tell us just how hot they were before we took off,” Rhia joked, as if she still held it against him. “I’d done some bounty hunter work before, so after even the slightest bit of research I found his goofy little face all over the holonet in an instant, and he hadn’t even bothered to disguise himself!” she all but yelled.

“I’d changed my look!” Kanan argued. “I’d started wearing a ponytail then,” he said with drunken confidence. Rhia and Hera shared a knowing look.

“He looked nearly identical,” Rhia continued. “So, I told our captain we needed to drop them, only-”

“He was a huge asshole,” Kanan cut her off. She snorted.

“Indeed. I didn’t tell him Kanan was a jedi, but he’d figured out that if I was so eager to get rid of them, he must be worth a lot. So, he intended to collect with the Empire. And do you know what this fucking maniac and Kasmir did to me?” she asked Hera, getting heated. Hera’s eyes were wide and she shook her head, invested.

“Look-” Kanan had started, but Rhia continued as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Those two idiots stunned me- even though I was going to help them! Next thing I know, I'm waking up on the floor of an escape pod with a crick in my neck!" she said, finishing her story with a drink. Hera frowned and looked at Kanan with goofy disapproval.

"Kanan!" she chastised him. He held his hands up in defense.

"We didn't know you were planning on helping us!" he spoke in a way that said this was not the first time he'd had to defend himself here. "The captain was your boyfriend. We assumed you'd just go along with him, so we took you hostage. And it worked!” he added. Rhia narrowed her eyes at him with a smirk.

“It did, but I hadn’t thought about turning either of you in until I woke up in that pod,” she said, laughing and lost in the memory for a moment. She drained her glass.

Hera watched the red-haired woman with great interest and warmth. She’d gleaned from their awkward meeting earlier that day that she and Kanan had some sort of history, and she’d felt the early pangs of jealousy when she’d found them here alone, drinking. But Rhia had a friendliness to her that seemed to quiet any other negative emotion in the room. There were still quiet thoughts in Hera’s mind relating to Rhia’s pleasing face and her tall, muscular frame that made her feel like competition. Not to mention, her vibrant hair, which seemed so deeply red at times and other times, when her movements caught the dim lighting just right, seemed almost reflective and chromatic. Regardless, Hera mostly felt like she’d formed a fast friend, and it was nice to be around another woman her own age. The alcohol didn’t hurt either.

“So what happened next?” Hera asked, interested in the end of the story.

“Well, we did a job or two together, just so I could get some cash now that I was crewless and shipless,” Rhia said, giving Kanan another quick look. “But it didn’t last much longer and I left him and Kasmir. Though, I did hear about some low-profile work on Gorse back then and I told him about it. I never thought he’d actually listen to me,” she finished, giving Kanan a small smile. There it was again, that competitive feeling inside of Hera.

“And then you ended up there at the same time, years later?” she asked, drawing Rhia’s attention back to her.

“Somehow, yes,” Kanan said, a little quieter than he’d been. A comfortable hush fell over the table. Three drunken adults sat, enveloped in warm intoxication and warmer memories. It hurt each one of them a bit to notice the emptiness of the bottle in front of them. The realization that the night was drawing to a close began descending on them, and Rhia, noticing the small bit left in each of their glasses, held up hers in a toast.

“To old and new friends,” she said, looking from Kanan to Hera. They both smiled back at Rhia and drained their glasses with her, adding the slightest bit of fog to their already foggy brains.

#i'm sorry this is so long #unless you like that #in which case you're welcome #star wars #star wars rebels #rebels #star wars fanfiction #rebels fanfiction #fanfiction #hera syndulla #kanan jarrus #endings

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iwillwalk500miles · 4 years

Text

the strings of the soulmate au

So I promised @astraskylark I would break down some of the strings. I’ll be explaining Weiss’ and the symbolisms of them, and then I’ll throw in a couple of random ones about other characters I couldn’t quite fit into the story. It’s a long post sooooo, yay.

First things first, you have to know where all of hers are. Starting from top to bottom, Weiss has strings around her ears that belong to her siblings, one around her neck from Ruby, Sun around her chest, Blake around her left pinky, Yang around her right wrist, and Pyrrha around her left knee.

The Ears

Let’s start with the Schneeblings, because I love them.

Weiss is connected to Winter from her left ear, Winter is connected to Whitley from her right, and Whitley is connected to Weiss from his left. Together they form a proper circle, when they turn their backs on each other, the strings get tangled, but when they face each other their bonds flow naturally and easily. I imagine that if they were raised in a better home their bonds to each other would be really quite strong, but due to what they suffered all of their strings to each other are patchy, the threads splitting off a little. I chose to connect them by their ears for a number of reasons, 1) it was the easiest place for them to be connected, 2) having them connected by the ears was symbolic, and 3) listening to people you care about is quite important, therefore ears.

They are connected by their abuse, but they don’t quite understand how yet. All three of them reacted to their home life in different ways, as most of you probably already know. None of them understand each other because they aren’t listening, not yet anyway. I also chose the ears because they’re near the head, closer to the mind than the heart.

The ears mean misunderstanding and acceptance. Well, right now they only mean misunderstanding, but eventually they’ll mean acceptance.

The Neck

Let’s talk about the neck string. Everyone has one of these, and the relationship between those connected doesn’t have to be explicitly romantic or platonic, this is just the relationship that will ultimately have the potential to mean the absolute most to you.

But, as seen in the story, this string also has the potential to do you the most harm.

The neck is a vulnerable place. Originally, I wanted the main string to be around the pinkies, as a homage to the ‘red string of fate’ but I decided to change it up, and I’m glad I did. This string means trust, vulnerability, and (obviously) love.

Weiss’ string hasn’t formed around Ruby’s neck yet, but it will. I promise.

The Chest

I went over this in a comment already, so I’ll copy paste it here and then add onto it.

“take the bond between sun and weiss, his string wraps around her chest (meaning things like protection and warmth and all that comes with the area near her heart) and her string wraps around his stomach (the center of his body which comes with strength and resilience i suppose)”

The way I see the relationship between Sun Wukong and Weiss Schnee is a complicated one. It’s supported entirely by my own personal headcanons of these characters, as they only had like one or two scenes with each other in the show. Sun, admittedly, is a himbo. I once saw a post that said the very best friendships are between ‘the himbo and the lesbian’ which, while funny, is a concept I took and ran with.

Though, my version of Sun is... not more knowledgeable exactly, but more aware of the people around him at the cost of his own self. It took me a while to characterize him the way I wanted, and I’m still working on it, but for now in this fic he is the type of person to see the emotions and want to help them no matter what, taking no time to take a good look at his own emotions.

Weiss also isn’t good with emotions, but eventually learns more about Sun to be able to actually see him, to make him feel understood.

(It’s a match made in heaven.)

So, Sun helps Weiss and Weiss helps Sun, it just takes a little while for it to get like that.

The (Left) Pinky

Weiss’ bond with Blake is different from the first two, mainly because while Blake’s string is around Weiss’ left pinky finger, Weiss’ string is around Blake’s right bicep. Weiss is left handed, and the fact that the bond is on her left pinky instead of her right means something. The pinky is usually the smallest finger on someone’s hand. When I decided to connect them, I was admittedly thinking of pinky promises.

So that area indicates honor and commitment, as Blake and Weiss’ relationship came with a somewhat rocky start, Blake not trusting Weiss because of her name and Weiss being... well, Weiss.

As their relationship flourishes, the words ‘honor’ and ‘commitment’ seem to fit them more and more. They are tied together by their desire to make things better, Weiss sees the destruction her father had wrought and succumbs to her own righteous anger, and Blake grew up fighting for the rights of her people. They both made promises to themselves, and that is what tied Blake to her. (Though the right bicep means something similar, ‘strength and endurance.’)

The (Right) Wrist

Similar to Blake and Weiss, Weiss and Yang have different parts tied to each other. (But of course, not that different, considering that Weiss’ string is tied around Yang’s left wrist.) Their relationship (once again similar to Blake) is rocky at the start. In the fic they don’t get along for the first two or three chapters because of the way Weiss reacted to Ruby, so Yang (the best big sis ever) was like “square up, bitch” and Weiss responded in kind.

(The relationship between them is hard for me to put into words so forgive me if I don’t make much sense.)

They reluctantly grow to care for each other, not broadcasting their friendship in obvious ways, so the first time that Yang is obviously protective of Weiss, little miss ‘I don’t need friends they disappoint me’ is understandably shocked. On Yang’s side of things, the first time Weiss is obviously attempting to correct her behavior between them she’s very much surprised.

The relationship between them sort of snuck up on them, I guess.

The wrist is used to move the hand, turning it and positioning it places—the movement is simultaneously restrictive and not. Operating under the impression that Yang is right-handed and Weiss is left-handed, I had their strings go on the opposite sides of the wrists they use the most.

Things between them are important, and maybe it’s not as obvious sometimes, but they need each other. Just like they need the wrists of their non-dominant hands to do things like tie their shoes, or easily pull on a pair of pants or a shirt or something. Though there are ways to do it with only one wrist, it’s easier when you have both, right?

So their bond represents a quiet sort of devotion, ‘consistent’ and ‘helpful’ are what come to mind when I think of their strings.

The (Left) Knee

I actually touched a little on their bond in the story, so I’ll put it here in quotes and then explain further.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where are we connected from?” It was a simple question, but she couldn't quite help the small tinge of unease in her stomach.

“My left knee to your right.” Weiss said hesitantly, looking at the aforementioned string. It was glowing just a little bit more than before, the fiery red slowly going lighter shades until it turned into the pale blue that belonged to Pyrrha.

“Stability, then.” She said after a moment, smiling serenely.

“Pardon?” Weiss asked, frowning a little in confusion.

“Well, knees are used to keep you standing, aren’t they? And you’re left handed, and I’m right handed—so we favor those sides of ourselves.” Pyrrha explained after a moment, looking Weiss in the eye and smiling broadly. The look on her face was so genuine and soft that Weiss felt that she had been punched in the stomach. “So, stability.”

Stability. They keep each other grounded, standing up. Weiss shows Pyrrha a rare kindness the first day they meet, and Pyrrha (understanding that the teenage girl in front of her isn’t often kind) responds in thankfulness. They are each other’s strongest supporters, in a sense that they would always be their keeping each other standing, or helping each other get back up.

Which, if after the story is over you choose to imagine what happened in the canon universe happening here, is all together heartbreaking.

Team R_BY’s Strings

It is here where I will write the information not about Weiss specifically, but the people around her. Most of it will be relatively short, as I haven’t fleshed as much of it out as everything else. You’ll notice that some relationships have different meanings. For example, the string between Ruby and Yang means different things on the different sides, though they are similar.

Ruby’s strings that haven’t been mentioned are: Yang around her left forearm (strength and admiration), Blake around her right palm (guidance and support), Jaune around her right bicep (working well together and acceptance), Taiyang around her left ankle (motivation and pride), Qrow around her right ankle (motivation and reluctance), and Penny around her chest (protection and intimacy). Summer Rose’s string used to be around Ruby’s stomach (balance and—similar to Yang’s—strength).

Blake’s strings that haven’t been mentioned are: Yang around her neck (love and vulnerability), Sun around her right elbow (flexibility and control), Ruby around her left palm (guidance and support), Ren around her left ankle (understanding), and both of her parents are wrapped around her stomach (balance). She used to have one to Adam, one that if you read the story you know she created herself and then had Weiss cut off. It was located on her wrist. This string meant nothing but what Blake wanted it to, in the beginning it was love, but it mutated into hate. Also Adam’s a douchebag. (Not important to the strings exactly, but it’s important to me that I put that there.)

Yang’s strings that haven’t been mentioned are: Blake around her neck (love and vulnerability), Ruby around her right forearm (protectiveness and strength), Qrow around her left pinky (importance and resilience), Taiyang around her right pinky (balance and gentle love), Sun around her left shoulder (support), and Nora around her left shin (encouragement and excitability). She does not have one to her mother, there is the potential to grow one of course, but you’ll remember that Yang had never met her. But I think that you’ll find it interesting that Raven will have one connected to Yang, it will be one sided, with Raven tied to her daughter and Yang free of her mother.

Some Tidbits:

Willow Schnee used to have her strings connected to her children by the right pinky, right ring finger, and right middle finger. Her strings mirrored her children, so the strings were tied to each of their respective fingers.

Jacques Schnee has only one string, and it has long since faded to almost nothing. I imagine that this might be to one of his parents.

Sun and Neptune are tied together by their necks.

Ozpin and Salem are tied together by their necks.

Winter will eventually meet the happy huntresses, and will receive strings from both Robyn Hill and Fiona Thyme, interestingly enough—they are both around her neck.

some grimm can pull on the strings (...i’m not planning anything for the next chapter stfu)

Poly STR was totally a thing back in the day

Qrow does not have a string around his neck, not till he meets Clover at least

Winter and Qrow are connected by the palms of their hands, their relationship purely one of bitter rivalry (they are both gay leave them alone)

a lot of people have onesided strings to Miss Pyrrha Nikos, heartbreaker extraordinaire

I imagine that as the years pass Penny and Weiss might develop a string; Ruby would be ecstatic

Winter and Penny have a string together, Winter having one around the palm of her right hand and Penny having one around the palm of her left hand

Team CFVY have strings together, I mentioned once that Fox and Coco have a platonic bond around their necks, I think

Team SSSN does not, only Sun and Neptune are tied together, but they do have the potential for it to develop over time

#rwby #soulmates au #gen writes #sorry it took me a little bit #anyway i hope you appreciate this #adds a lot of depth to the story i think #it's a shame i couldn't fit it all in

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hermannsthumb · 4 years

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Newt, being the New England trash that he is, insists on taking Hermann to a baseball game that’s totally not a date...

secret baseball fan newt is so fun. i made the opposing team my team because we may be bad but gotta represent and they can win in my fantasies 😔 also will newt starting college when he's like 12 ever not be funny to me? no

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

“It’s the great American past time,” Newton says. “Like--I don’t know. Cricket for you. Right? A cultural thing. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Technically speaking, Newton,” Hermann says, feeling very much like he does understand, and that he is very much on the right side of the argument here, “you’re not American either.”

Newton laughs. “And thank fuck for that! Okay, these are our seats.”

Their seats are--perhaps predictably--stiff, uncomfortable, and grimy, though Hermann’s thankful Newton was conscientious enough to book them ones designed for disability access. But Newton stops him with a hand to his chest before he can so much as take a step towards it and begins digging around in his tote bag. “What is it?” Hermann says.

“One second,” Newton says, and then--pulling a large, thin something out--laughs triumphantly. “Cushion! For you. More comfortable.”

Hermann takes it. It’s torn in one spot, its white padding poking out, and looks as if it’s seen better days. “‘MIT Dad’?”

“I played Little League in college,” Newt explains with a shrug. “I wasn’t really good, though. The pitchers always threw the ball over my head. Come on, sit, sit.”

The MIT Dad stadium cushion is placed over Hermann’s seat, Hermann’s cane is tucked comfortably to the side, and they sit down. Newton immediately begins digging in his bag once more. “Oh, I almost forgot! You need one of these.”

He presents Hermann with a Red Sox cap that matches his own. Hermann takes it gingerly. “Are we rooting for the same team, then?”

“Obviously,” Newton says. “I’d have to stop speaking to you if we weren’t. Kidding!”

He gives a loud, fake laugh, one that makes it clear to Hermann that he was not, in fact, kidding. The only thing that Newton takes a fraction as seriously his work is baseball: Hermann doesn't think Newton ever missed listening to a Red Sox game on the tiny, cannibalized radio they kept in their laboratory. “Thank you,” Hermann says, a bit awkwardly, and slips the cap on. It’s too big.

Newton insisted they show up abysmally early, so early they were the first in their entire section, and they watch Newton’s team practice as other spectators finally begin to file in. Newton is already fidgeting. “Should I get us beer now? Or later? I have peanuts in my bag--”

“Peanuts?” Hermann says.

“Tradition,” Newton says. He suddenly stands up. “Okay. Okay, I’ll get us beer and see if I can snag you a score card from somewhere. It’s a lot of, like--paying attention to numbers, and addition, you’ll love it.”

He scurries out of their aisle and past two men wearing the opposing team’s colors, though he stops--briefly--to scowl at them. They scowl back. Hermann desperately hopes a repeat of the last World Cup Germany played in isn’t in store for tonight: Newton became so excitable that he got into a shouting match with a j-tech and ended up with a rather furious black eye. Potential injury aside, Hermann really just doesn’t fancy holding an ice pack to Newton’s face for hours on end again. “Be quick!” Hermann calls after him.

The two men in orange and black sit further down Newton and Hermann’s row. They give Hermann a dirty look, too. Right--the hat.

Hermann will admit that this is not how he expected the weekend to go. A brief stopover in Newton’s hometown between speaking engagements--surely (Hermann thought) that meant an awkward dinner with Newton’s father, Geiszler family photo albums dug out of storage and presented to Hermann proudly, perhaps a tour of Newton’s old campus. But all Newton wanted to do was go to a bloody baseball game, his first in a decade--and he wanted to go with Hermann. Hermann couldn’t really begrudge him the request.

“Got the beer,” Newton declares proudly. He hands one large plastic cup to Hermann, then digs around in his pocket and produces the promised scorecard and a golf pencil. He’s penciled in the team names: Red Sox, surrounded by exclamation marks and underlined thrice, and Orioles, with a frowning face to the left of it.

“Don’t you think I ought to pick a side independent of your bias?” Hermann says, staring down at it.

“It's not a bias if I’m right,” Newton says.

“But the other mascot is much more interesting than yours,” Hermann says, casting a glance down at the opposing fans Newton had a run-in with earlier. A little cartoonish oriole smiles back at him from their own caps. “It’s a bird, not--someone’s laundry.”

Newton’s expression darkens. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that for the sake of our friendship. Peanut?” He holds a plastic bag out to Hermann. Hermann shakes his head; though, secretly, he can’t help but feel a bit pleased Newton implied they were friends. “I can get you other food if you want? They have big hot dogs and stuff. I’ll pay for anything you want.”

“I’m fine,” Hermann says.

“Anything. I’m serious.”

“I’m fine,” Hermann repeats.

He takes a large sip of beer so Newton will stop scrutinizing him. It’s not exactly to his taste: Newton prefers the lighter sort, IPAs and the like, and can never seem to understand that someone (in this situation, Hermann) might prefer something else. Though it's not as if any American beer is up to Hermann’s standards, to be frank. “You have a foam mustache,” Newton says, and wipes off Hermann’s upper lip with the cuff of his sleeve.

Hermann blinks at him. “Ah,” he says. “Thank you, Newton?”

They share a few seconds of strangely tense eye contact. Then Newton shakes his head. “Laundry,” he grumbles. “Unbelievable. Wait, it’s starting! Shut up!”

It turns out Newton’s behavior during baseball games is far, far worse than his behavior during the World Cup. He shouts and cheers himself hoarse; he holds one-sided arguments with the umpire; he boos so obnoxiously someone two rows back throws a peanut at him to shut him up; he grabs Hermann’s arm after every mildly interesting play, wrings it, and excitedly recaps it with commentary, as if Hermann himself hadn’t witnessed it only seconds prior. Hermann must admit Newton was right about his being amused by the scorecard, however, and after the fifth inning (when the Red Sox are leading by two runs) a high-spirited Newton treats him to a second beer he actually enjoys. Not even an awkward singling out by the kiss cam--in which they stay motionless, Newton blushing so furiously he looks like a freckled tomato, and Hermann avoiding eye contact so intently his eyes begin to sting--could put a damper on things, nor even Hermann inadvertently catching a fly ball while Newton--who’s been trying, fruitlessly, the entire game--is out getting him that second beer.

It goes downhill after the sixth inning.

“That was the worst playing I’ve seen in my life!” Newton hollers as they wait by their T stop a few hours later. He’s long since ripped off his hat in disgust, and Hermann saw him eyeing the trash bins contemplatively with it in hand on their way out of the stadium. “Fucking ridiculous! Can you believe it, Hermann?”

“Mm,” Hermann agrees.

“I shell out a fortune for these tickets,” Newton says, “and--we fly all the way from fucking Hong Kong to watch them lose!”

“We flew here because we were asked to give several guest lectures,” Hermann reminds him.

“Whatever,” Newton says. “Ugh. This is the worst! My first game in over ten years--”

Perhaps it’s because the sensation of Newton gently brushing foam off his lip lingers even now, hours later, or perhaps it’s because he can’t stop thinking of what could’ve happened if they hadn’t botched up the kiss cam, or perhaps it’s merely because he wants Newton to shut up, but (in a fit of desperation) Hermann suddenly finds himself seizing Newton by the collar of his oversized Red Sox t-shirt and kissing him until his shocked, undignified squeaks turn pleased. Even then, Hermann kisses him a bit more.

Newton’s eyes are as wide as saucers when Hermann finally pulls away. “There, now,” he says, and pats Newton’s cheek. “The night wasn’t all so terrible, was it?”

Newton shakes his head. He does seem remarkably cheered up.

“I might even go as far as to say I had fun.”

“Oh,” Newton squeaks. “Good.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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danganronpedits-archived · 4 years

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Hello! Could I please have a kin matchup with characters from DR1, SDR2, DRV3 and BNHA? Thank you! I am a very mixed person. When I'm out talking to people in public it's very obvious that I have nothing to say and that I don't want to be there. I'm a complete hopeless romantic and can catch romantic feelings quite easily. I'm a lot more talkative when I talk to people online and I always laugh at the dumbest things. I love the color pink and lovecore in general. I'm also quite insecure- haha

you can absolutely have a matchup!! hehe,, you sound really neat, i’d like to talk with you myself anon... only if you’re okay with that of course!! your kin matchup can be found under the cut, thank you for requesting!! i’m sorry that it took a bit for me to write this one,,

oh, also... i want to clarify something before we start. i was originally going to make peko pekoyama your second dr kin assignment, and i still agree with that. it’s just that writing out the explanation was rather energy sapping,,, it’s not your fault at all, but i hope you understand!!! i can definitely add it on if you’d like though, anon!

-mod tsu (mikan shift)

first off, from danganronpa: goodbye despair, i match you with...

hajime hinata!

this matchup contains spoilers for super danganronpa 2! please proceed with caution, if it’s not too much trouble! i was kind of torn between him and himiko, actually...! but i think you’re a bit closer to hajime! i think that hajime is... very mixed. there are times when he can come off as cynical or even cold, and times when he’s very genuine and determined. these sides of him don’t clash together, but rather make up him as a whole... and i think you’re a little similar, anon! maybe you have traits that don’t really seem like they fit together... but you make them work! i think that unless hajime is close to others, he can struggle to fit into the conversation at times. this is especially clear at the beginning of sdr2, when everyone is just relaxing on the beach, not really seeing them randomly being there as a big deal- but hajime is more hesitant and concerned about their circumstances... plus, this is especially clear in despair arc around the ultimates. he’s very much taken aback by the main course students as well as staff, and... during those scenes it doesn’t exactly seem like he dislikes the interaction. however, it does seem like he’s uncomfortable,, maybe you can relate to that haha. you also seem a little serious, anon! not to assume that you don’t have a sense of humour... but there may be times when you take a joke too seriously. um, if that’s true,, there’s no shame in that haha.. in general... your typing just had a really similar vibe to him, though it may be closer with the hajime at the end of sdr2! i know that’s a bit of a weird, intuition-based point, but... the two of you seem a little awkward, but you have good intentions and it seems like both of you are... rather motivated people. at least, when it comes to the things you really want,, i admire that !! in hajime’s specific case, you may feel a little jealous of people who can do things outside of your comfort zone really easily,, for example i don’t think hajime is very insecure in his ability to study- but people like peko or fuyuhiko, who have talents that are rather niche, i think he would kind of be in awe of how... not normal they are. and you just kind of... strike me in a similar way! sorry if this doesn’t make much sense haha.

while we’re not super sure on how much hajime gets crushes on other people... we can speculate in a way? other characters like monokuma and nagito have compared him to a tsundere, and he’s specifically said to be romantically inexperienced. i don’t think this inherently means he doesn’t have crushes on other people,, it’s implied that he’s interested in chiaki, as well as komahina being... um, a popular ship. a lot of hajime’s feelings about the sdr2 cast are left up to interpretation, and he can technically have feelings for all of them in the bonus mode. at least, that’s how i interpret it,, point is i think that he can have many crushes.. depending on how you see him, haha. sorry that it’s not too conclusive but, in general, i think that while he may be a little uncomfortable with it, hajime may also be a sort of ‘hopeless romantic’ in that... if he sees it as being the best for his friends, he’d also be willing to play a matchmaker !! i think that hajime, without the border of being face-to-face, would be a lot more willing to talk online. in a chatroom, i think he would be more prone to rambling on about something. hehe.. i kind of see him as someone who can accidentally send essays when he texts. i’m just guessing.. but maybe you do that too. hehe, it’s um... maybe a little too literal of me, but i think hajime does laugh at... absurd situations. it’s nice how in a lighter conversation with fuyuhiko, the two are able to just... laugh and have a good time together. i bring this up because... it’s because those smiles are from fuyuhiko suggesting that hajime’s the ultimate counselor. i like their banter a lot, and maybe there are silly inside jokes like this between you and your friends too !! um, lastly.. while i don’t know exactly what your insecurities are, i think that hajime is rather insecure..! he’s visibly upset about the fact that he doesn’t have a talent, and i’d say his seriousness partially comes from this. he does strongly dream of talent, and he puts a strong emphasis on being busy and studying ingame- i’d say that this can make up his seriousness in a way? like, he takes things very seriously in order to learn from them the most. ah, but back to insecurities!! hajime does see himself as inferior to main course students like chiaki and even chisa,, and whenever other people point out his talentless-ness, it is a very sore spot for him. he gets somewhat defensive, and mostly doesn’t know how to react... you may kind of short-circuit like this too, whenever someone hits a sore spot for you..!

and lastly, from boku no hero academia, i match you with...

mashirao ojiro!

okay, so...! i realise that he’s kind of a minor character, so we don’t know much about him. however, from what we do know, i think he suits you well! like always, you had a similar kind of vibe to him in your ask. he would definitely be the type to use proper grammar in my eyes... and the two of you just have similar word choice imo!! second off, mashirao is kind of... mixed or in the middle, in terms of personality. he seems to get along with denki, a guy who’s definitely up there in eccentricity. maybe your friend group is rather versatile... like hajime, the two seem to be able to get along with many kinds of people. more specifically, they’re able to handle the oddities and ‘quirks’(haha. funny bnha joke) of their other classmates/friends. ah, but that’s off topic! so sorry .. i think that mashirao does kind of struggle in conversation, as he tends to not really like the spotlight, and other students describe him as sheepish or bashful. i think that despite his calm demeanor, he would shy away from conversations, especially ones where he has to play a large part- and i think that’s the most important part of him not really ‘liking’ to have in-person talks with other people. the two of you may be able to hold up something one-on-one, with one of your friends... but with a group of people, you’d just blend into the background. maybe that ‘mixed’-ness can make you feel like you don’t have much to say, too... i don’t think he really tries to hide this/can hide this either, like you. i think that the two of you are generally friendly and trustworthy, and maybe you both have plenty of loose acquaintances, the way that mashirao is on generally good terms with all of his classmates. i think that it’s easy for people to have a high view of you, but maybe not know you too closely or deeply. you seem generally nice!!!

...please excuse this second half being really short. like hajime, we don’t really know his status on crushes,, but i honestly headcanon him as bi due to him having... ‘softer’ friendships with other people, if that makes sense? not that that inherently means attraction... i just think that he could be very interested in and enjoy other people, leading to crushing of varying intensity. he kind of has a pink... vibe to him if that makes sense? ghgghgh we’re not sure about what colours he likes, but he seems to have a lot of lighter ones in his overall design and outfits... maybe a baby pink would fall under that! i think he would also be a lot more talkative online. um, my explanation for this is very similar to hajime’s. he may not feel such a strong need to be polite or accommodating through a screen! though i think he still would be out of respect. mashirao also seems like the type to find the more strange antics of his classmates funny... once again, he seems rather close to denki, and is described as a “straight man”(like, composed or deadpan in contrast to their more eccentric partner). maybe you’re also the type to go along, but have a more level head as things get ~weird~. lastly, like hajime, mashirao does seem rather insecure. he doesn’t really get why he got into UA with a quirk “like his”. he’s rather humble and doesn’t like to accept results he feels like he doesn’t deserve. in fact, he even dropped out of the sports festival because he felt as though he didn’t properly earn his placement in it. maybe you’d be more or less active in voicing this than he is, but the two of you generally have underestimating your own abilities in common. at least, that’s what i gathered, haha.

you all know what time it is, hehe... from dr, you also remind me very strongly of peko pekoyama, and somewhat of mukuro ikusaba, himiko yumeno, mahiru koizumi, toko fukawa, and kazuichi souda. from bnha you also remind me somewhat strongly of fumikage tokoyami, ibara shiozaki, and kyoka jirou, as well as lightly of toru hagakure and shoto todoroki !!

i hope this helped you out anon!! thank you again for requesting,, if you need anything about this changed or edited please let me know!! i’m happy to edit this, it’s not a bother at all... getting requests kind of makes my day, hehe..

#kin matchup #boku no hero academia kin #bnha kin #my hero academina kin #mha kin #dr kin #danganronpa kin #icon by xc4tb0yk0m4ed4-kinhelpx #ask #request finished #anon

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onthepyre · 5 years

Text

cats

the second part of this is basically what i did last night but connor is a lot braver than me. anyway.

Evan does this at least once a week.

He gets home, and for whatever reason, whether it be the smile Connor gave him during lunch that lasted a bit too long or that romantic-looking restaurant he walked by on the way home, he's feeling sappy. And he walks straight to his room, lays down on the floor, and listens to Cavetown.

The amount of time Evan spends on the floor is directly proportional to how many times he caught Connor looking at him during science class. Sometimes he counts; the record so far is 23 times in one class period. He spent two hours on the floor that day, staring at the ceiling.

As soon as he's home, he's settled on his carpet with the soft sounds of a guitar playing in his headphones. It's peaceful, quiet. There are only a few things that Evan thinks about, and number one on his list is how much better it would be if Connor was here.

His heart talks about Connor a lot. His mind objects, but Evan's heart seems to beat with his name. Connor Murphy Connor Murphy Connor Murphy. Evan never gets tired of it. His heart talks about Connor's hair, his eyes, his smile, his hands-

Don't get him started on Connor's hands.

Evan has watched Connor draw before. The style of his art matches him well. It's sharp, fast, messy, perfect. But when he's drawing, Evan watches Connor's hands rather than the piece.

They're fluid. They glide.

Connor Murphy does not glide. He stomps, he runs, he marches, but he does not glide. But when he's drawing, his hands float. They look the same, as angular as Connor himself, but they're different. Softer. Evan figures Connor's face is the same, but he's always been too focused to look.

Evan often considers what Connor's hands feel like. They look strong, but Evan is certain they're lighter than they seem. He wonders what it would be like to hold Connor's hand. Is he one of those people that would hang on too tight? Would he barely touch Evan's hand? Would he be grossed out by Evan's sweaty palms?

Evan also, more tentatively, thinks about Connor's hands on his face. In his hair. Looped around his waist. These thoughts, of course, are more focused on where Connor's mouth would be at the moment, but there is attention to his hands then, too.

And Connor's mouth. Of course. His lips are always chapped and often bleeding because Connor picks at them when he gets bored and Evan knows this because he stares at Connor during French class and he knows Connor hates French. Connor bites his lips a lot, too. It isn't meant to be nearly as swoon-worthy as it makes Evan feel, but it nearly breaks him every time Connor chews on his lip. Evan's fairly certain this is something he does when he's bored, too, although it might be a nervous habit.

Connor has a lot of nervous habits, from what Evan's seen. He spins his pen, taps his foot, braids little strands of his hair — the list goes on. Evan knows each and every one of them.

——

Connor has his own sort of ritual. After begging Zoe to stop at Tim Hortons so they could get coffee, he sits at the window in the den and watches Law & Order SVU. He had never seen it until Zoe showed him the John Mulaney bit about Ice-T and now he's addicted. It's a problem.

Unbeknownst to either, Connor's SVU marathons are the equivalent of Evan's Cavetown sessions. Evan thinks about Connor and Connor thinks about Ice-T. And Evan. Mostly Evan.

Connor has a thing for the way Evan talks. He knows that Evan himself hates it and most of the school thinks he's annoying, but Connor thinks it's adorable.

Evan has to say exactly what he wants to say, and if he messes it up, he will start over. He messes up a lot. It doesn't help that sometimes his tongue catches on words and he gets stuck on a certain sound and has to go back to the beginning of the sentence. It takes active listening to understand what he's saying but it makes Connor melt.

That's the thing that makes Connor think so hard. He's supposed to be the mopey badass, the scary emo, the aloof rebel-without-a-cause. He has a reputation to uphold, even if it's less punk and more school shooter (okay, less punk and more sad). He may be openly bisexual, yes, but he shouldn't be falling for a tiny tree-obsessed nerd.

And the fact that Evan of all people is the one his heart decided on is, well, bad. Connor's too worried that Evan isn't into him to do anything other than stare and Evan can't take a fucking hint. Connor may think his cluelessness is cute, but it's also really inconvenient. Connor thinks a lot of things about Evan are cute but inconvenient.

Evan is really, really good at accidentally blocking people's paths and then moving out of the way at the same time the other person does, thus blocking them again. Evan hates it and Connor thinks it's funny. If it goes on for long enough, Evan starts blushing, and Connor starts falling apart.

And oh my god, when Evan blushes. It's not like it's uncommon, Evan is both awkward and incredibly aware of it, but Connor still thinks it's adorable. It brings out his freckles and colors the tops of his ears pink. If Evan is especially embarrassed, he'll try to hide in his hands, but his fingertips are always tinged with the same rose-colored mortification.

Connor's thoughts drift as he pulls out his phone and scrolls through instagram, but Evan is still there in the back of his mind. He's always there, no matter what Connor is doing. He spots Evan in the shadows created by the trees in the backyard; sees Evan's worried smile on his mother's face; catches himself doodling Evan's silhouette in the background of drawings. Evan, Evan, Evan.

Connor's phone buzzes in his hand as he scrolls past a collection of Bee Movie memes. He opens the message, noting it's from Evan.

hhey

He's still typing, but Connor replies anyway.

whats up

The typing bubble disappears for a moment, then pops back up

what r u duing

Connor takes a moment to grin at the misspelling before he responds.

watching svu

do u eanna come see cats with ne

uhh?? no but absolutely yes im coming, what time

theres a show jn half an hour

cool see you then

Connor tucks his phone into his pocket and pulls his hands through his hair. He's going on a date. With Evan. But it's not a date, his mind says. Connor ignores it.

He's out the door in no time, stopping only to grab a half-eaten bag of twix and shove it in the pocket of his hoodie.

——

Evan arrives at the theater before Connor does, and sits down next to a claw machine after buying his ticket. He thinks about texting Connor, but his energy for starting conversations is nearly gone — he barely stuttered his way through asking for a medium popcorn, so he's decided to recharge for a bit while he waits for Connor.

Connor bursts through the door a few minutes later, then stops to look around. He breaks into a smile when he spots Evan, who lifts his hand in a tired wave. Evan watches Connor talk to the woman at the ticket booth, then the man at the concession stand. He approaches Evan with a bag of Sprees in his hand.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi."

"I know Sprees are the worst, but they're the only food that seems to last past the previews, so." Evan nods, trying to hide the already partially eaten bag of popcorn sitting next to him. "Well, shall we?" Connor reaches down to pull Evan up from the bench. Evan smiles as thanks, but Connor doesn't let go of his hand. His mind moves at the speed of light, even though there are only two thoughts in his head: Connor Connor Connor and hand.

Connor holds onto him all the way to the screening room, where he tugs Evan into the back row. He drops Evan's hand as they sit. Connor drops the Sprees into the cupholder on his left and pulls out the Twix, which he starts inhaling immediately.

When the movie starts, there's only one other person in the room: an old man in the front row, who Connor insists is Andrew Lloyd Webber himself, and it's not an issue if they talk because Webber started this whole fiasco and deserves to hear their "critiques."

The moment the first cat appears on the screen, Connor is laughing. "Why does she have boobs?" he whispers.

"Connor!"

"If they're going to give her boobs, she should have six, not two."

"Connor, talk quieter!"

"Are we supposed to be attracted to the cats?"

Defeated, Evan drops his face into his hands while Connor cackles next to him.

They make it to Rum-Tum-Tugger without any other mishaps, but as soon as the new cat starts singing, Connor loses it again.

"Why is he wearing a fur coat? That's terrifying!"

"What?"

"You'd be scared if you saw someone wearing a coat made of skin." Evan looks over at him with a desperate expression on his face.

"Connor, please," he begs, "let's just… let's appreciate cat Jason Derulo."

Connor nods, still wheezing, and calms down a bit. Until cat Jason Derulo whips off his fur coat in a display of his cat muscles.

Connor drops his head onto Evan's shoulder. "I can't do this," he says through a fit of giggles.

But Evan is more focused on the fact that Connor's head is on his shoulder oh my god. And Evan hears Connor's foot tap, tap, tapping on the floor. Nervous habit. And once again, Connor's hand finds his.

"Gotta ground myself. Make sure we're not dead, y'know." So Evan, with as much bravery as he can muster, squeezes Connor's hand. And Connor squeezes back.

But Connor doesn't move. He stays there, his head on Evan's shoulder, his hand in Evan's hand. And Evan can't focus on the movie anymore. He eventually picks his head up to laugh at Mr. Mistoffelees, but Connor hangs onto Evan's hand for the rest of the movie. He's soft, softer than Evan expected, and evidently doesn't mind his sweaty palms, so Evan doesn't complain.

As the credits roll, Evan gathers the bits of courage he has left and look over at Connor. "Is, uh, was this, like a date? Or did I, um, completely misinterpret what's- did I misunderstand this? B-because-"

Connor cuts him off. "Do you want this to be a date?" He's quiet, much quieter than normal.

Evan's voice is even smaller when he answers. "Um. Yeah." He stares down at his free hand, trying to avoid the one Connor still has a firm grip on.

"Great. Then it was a date." Evan can hear the smile in Connor's voice. He looks up, and Connor is beaming, and Evan can hear his foot tapping the floor again. And Connor's hand is on his jaw and Evan is leaning forward and their lips are pressed together.

It's different than Evan had imagined. Slower. Gentler. But he's kissing Connor Murphy and Connor Murphy is kissing him back.

Evan is the first to pull away. He knows his face is a bright shade of pink, but he doesn't really care. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

"Oh, uh, my mom's here." He thinks he sees Connor's face fall for half a second, but he isn't sure.

"Oh. Alright. See you soon."

Evan leans over and pecks his cheek. "Thanks."

#treebros #deh #dear evan hansen #evan hansen #connor murphy #connor x evan #pining evan #pining connor #just a lot of pining #cats #lowkey just me projecting but its fine #kissing #holding hands #kinda sappy #june's writing

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