#The same sort of affection she's used to and yearning SO badly for | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

laurfilijames · 3 years

Text

Jealous Heart

———

Requested by my naughty anon “E”, who wanted a needy/jealous smutty Kili. Thank you so much for coming to me for this! It’s been such a pleasure to write and I hope it meets your expectations. I’m honoured to have received this request- my first one ever! Enjoy your possessive and jealous Kili!

Pairing: Kili x female reader

Words: 3,222

Warnings: rated E. Vaginal fingering. M/F intercourse, unprotected. Kili is quite possessive in this.

Kili sat with his back rigid against the cold stone wall, arms folded across his chest, watching Y/N with fire in his eyes.

The tavern was bustling tonight. There was barely enough room to pass through the crowd to get to the bar for another ale, but still all Kili could focus on was you as if you were the only other person in the room.

He wanted you. Bad. But there you were for another night, laughing and being wooed by other patrons in the tavern. Other patrons who were far more suited to you than he could ever be.

The man who was currently stealing your attention, or caught completely under your spell was more like it, was a tall dark-haired man with a full, thick beard. His size towered over your frame, his rugged charm working to bring out your gorgeous smile, and the scene filled Kili with rage and jealousy.

He was a dwarf for pity’s sake, yet here this human sported facial hair that could challenge even Thorin’s kingly beard in all its glory! There was no way he could compete with that.

Kili felt like a disgrace, his mood continuing to fall as he began to pick at the bindings on his boot that was resting up on his knee.

How many times had he imagined you pressing your lips along his stubble-coated jawline, praising him for the intense pleasure he provided, begging him for more? Each time he touched himself it was to thoughts of you, pretending it was your gentle hands tugging on his hardened shaft. Since reclaiming Erebor he’d been with a few women, most of them eager to show their gratitude to one of their heroes, but the only one he really wanted, the only one he longed for, was you.

It seemed as though every other man in town- dwarf, elf or human- was captivated by you and tried for your affection. Who could blame them? You were perfect.

But watching them all set out after you night after night started to take its toll on Kili, the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head in the depths of his heart.

“You need to make a move, Kili, or Y/N will be long gone before you even have a chance to call for another ale,” his brother said pointedly with a nudge to his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts.

He shook his head in defeat, glancing up to watch you throw your head back in laughter. Gods, you were a sight.

“There’s no use, Fili. I mean look at her!” he waved in your direction, your charisma infectious to everyone around you. But his doubt left him as soon as he looked your way again, feeling a rush of urgency to have you, to push away any man who threatened to seize you from his own reach, to claim you as his.

He sighed and looked at his brother beside him who took a long drag from his pipe, regarding you from across the room with an odd expression on his face. It almost looked as though Fili himself was considering making a move on you and the thought made even more anger rise up in Kili.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, having seen that same look on Fili’s face before when he was interested in a woman. He wouldn’t think twice about dumping his ale over his brother's head if it came down to it.

“No, no, I wouldn’t,” he assured him, “It just doesn’t seem like she’s actually enjoying herself,” he tipped his head in your direction, his moustache braids wagging with his movements. “You should go and rescue her.”

“You think?”

“Yes! Just go!” Fili gave him a hard push on his back, causing him to almost trip over his own feet as he stood from their table.

Kili took a deep breath before he made his way over, and when he was close enough he noticed a faint tinge of falseness in your eyes, an annoyed expression crossing your face. A feeling of possessiveness came over him now that he knew you weren’t interested in this man’s company, and he found it hard to control his anger.

“Kili! I was wondering when you were going to make your way over to see me!” you exclaimed with enthusiasm the second he joined your side, hoping he would catch the thanks that laced your tone for interrupting your conversation with the man who tried his best to persuade you into his bed each night.

“Y/N,” Kili greeted you shortly, staring up at the man across from you with a venomous look. “Is this man bothering you?”

You couldn’t help but notice how dark his eyes were and you wondered if the young Prince was jealous.

So you decided to have some fun, thinking maybe this was the way to get him to finally admit those feelings for you you always suspected he had.

“Not in the slightest,” you cooed, biting your lip to hold back your smile as his head whipped to look at you, his brows knitted tightly together.

When you saw his reaction, you couldn’t keep your face from splitting at his sheer disbelief that you could have been enjoying yourself. The other man sulked away and you sighed with relief, “I’m kidding! Thank you for coming over, I could only be nice for so long!”

Your hand automatically rested on his forearm, feeling the muscles shift underneath his skin when he clenched his fist, the movement sending a sensation through you that made your breath hitch.

Kili didn’t return your smile though. He looked at your hand that remained on his arm and shook his head slightly as he turned away from you.

“It’s nothing,” he said in a low voice, but you could see through his words. He leaned forward against the bar, forcing you to drop your hand from him, refusing to meet your gaze when you shifted your body to try and face him again.

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine.”

Another lie. You wanted to tell Kili just how badly you wanted him, that there was no way any other man could compare to him. You could sense his unease and longed to erase it with your lips, desperate to admit that anytime you were intimate with anyone it was him who you imagined being with.

Kili glanced over his shoulder, rolling his eyes when they met Fili’s who nodded at him to continue talking to you. He rubbed a hand over his face, strongly considering getting his next pint and heading back to the table without saying another word. There was no way he could muster the strength to push his jealous feelings aside and just tell you he fancied you.

But he was quickly persuaded, feeling the gentle touch of your hand on his shoulder.

“Kili, what’s wrong? You know you can tell me,” you said faintly. Even through the noise of the crowd your voice sang to him clear as day, and he longed to hear what other soft sounds he could coax from your lips.

“I can’t stand seeing you with other men,” he declared, the words leaving his mouth involuntarily as if staring at your lips had him in some sort of trance.

Your eyebrows flew up in shock as you processed his words, making him panic slightly. He reached for his full tankard and turned to leave, but stopped when you spoke.

“Why is that?”

He sighed again and brought himself to face you, looking at you with an unashamed need.

“I want you to be mine.”

You nodded slowly, hoping you heard him correctly over the commotion around you.

You’d had your eye on Kili ever since you were young, and seeing him now as a grown and proud warrior after reclaiming Erebor had you yearning for him even more. The truth was that you were often jealous of how much attention he received from other dams throughout the kingdom, constantly having to listen to them all gush over him. And now he was telling you he wanted you?

Not daring to miss your opportunity, you leaned your body close to his, pulling him toward you by tugging on his coat with one hand, the other moving to wrap around his muscular torso.

“I want you, too, Kili…”

His gaze made you squirm where you stood, his expression enough to break your boldness and make you want to submit to him right then and there.

Before you had any more time to think up the things you wanted him to do to you, Kili grabbed your hand and gave you the cheeky smile that made your heart do flips, spinning on his heel to drag you through the crowd behind him.

“Where are we going?!” you asked, surprised at his sudden ambition.

“Away from all of these people!” he explained over his shoulder, a mischievous look plastered on his face.

The pace of your steps matched his, equally zealous to get away from the crowd and find a quiet spot to be together, but before you even made it out the back door Kili turned toward you and pressed you against the wall, eagerly taking your lips in his.

His hands groped at you while your tongues collided, the warmth of his mouth and body radiating through whatever part of you he touched.

You moaned into him, his large hands pulling at your dress, trying to expose more of your chest to him. Kili’s lips left yours and flew to your neck, kissing a trail down your ticklish skin which made your moans turn to giggles. Just as he drove his thick thigh between your legs to part them someone walked past, interrupting your activities. You both broke out in laughter, unable to believe you were actually fondling each other in the hallway of the busiest tavern in all of Dale.

He attached his lips to yours again in a hurry, backing up to remove you from the wall and pulling you with him. You were stumbling over each other in your search for the exit, bumping into walls before finally crashing against the door that led outside.

You couldn’t get enough of each other and before you even made it around the corner you had successfully torn open his tunic, revealing dark hairs covering his strong chest. Your hands carded over his bare skin and you pushed your tongue deeper in his mouth, ecstatic to be in this moment with him.

You couldn’t help but squeal when he lifted you up and wrapped your legs around his middle, carrying you the rest of the way over to a more secluded area behind the row of buildings.

“Kili, someone could see us!” you worried, but you didn’t truly care, knowing just how much you wanted the dark-haired archer. He placed you down, but you didn’t trust your shaking legs, your arms remaining around his neck for support.

“I know, but I need you, Y/N,” he looked at you with an ache in his eyes and you knew he meant it. “I need you now.”

You tugged at his hair as he consumed your mouth again, his hard cock pressing against the material of your dress which was straining to get through his trousers.

Your fingers fumbled with the laces on them, desperate to feel him in your hand. Teeth nipped at your neck in response to your endeavour, a deep groan leaving his mouth to air over your flushed skin as you reached in and freed his length. You knew he would be impressive in size, but this was more than you were expecting and your thighs squeezed together at the thought of him stretching you.

Your name came out of him with a hiss as you began stroking him, your thumb running small circles on his leaking tip, your touch turning him feral.

He bucked into your hand and attached his lips to yours once more, one hand clutching your waist to pull you closer while his other tore at your neckline to expose your breasts to him.

He parted from you to take the sight of you in, your bare chest heaving in anticipation, nipples taught in the cold, night air.

Kili’s face plunged to your cleavage, his hand squeezing the soft flesh of your breast as he sucked on your peak while he gathered the material of your dress to ruck it up over your hips.

Although you were almost delirious from his actions, you continued to slowly pump his throbbing shaft, pausing only when he glanced up at you with a possessive look. His fingers grazed up your quivering thigh and now lingered against your wet folds, waiting for your consent. You pushed your hips forward, a signal of your need for him to touch you more. He happily complied, plunging a large finger inside your warmth, his thumb finding your swollen bud to circle and press on it. A moan left you and your body shuddered to his touch as he moved his finger in and out of you, then adding another to stretch you further.

“Kili…” you gasped, gripping onto his broad shoulder as you rode his hand while still jerking your own along his length in a steady rhythm.

He removed his fingers from your fluttering folds and gripped around the back of your thigh, pulling your leg up to wrap around his waist. You felt his spongy head press against your wetness and you gasped at the sensation, more than ready to take him in.

“I will make you forget any other man who has ever touched you,” he vowed in a rough tone, and you knew it would be true.

Kili grabbed onto your bum, pulling you closer to his body as he pushed through your entrance. Your head fell back against the wall as you stretched to fit him, thankful for how wet he had made you. But even with the amount of slick that coated your walls, his girth was enough to make you whimper and cry out.

“Am I too big for you, amrâlimê?” he asked in a low, husky voice, his breath tickling beside your ear, still continuing to push deeper into you regardless of your answer.

“No, Kili,” you managed to say through a moan, “Please don’t stop.”

He moved to rest his forehead against yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips as he bottomed out in you, his hips pressed firmly against yours.

“Good, because I want you to think of me with every step you take tomorrow.” His eyes were black in the moonlight, his words and his stare making you shiver. Kili moved so he was almost all the way out of you, making you miss the fullness he created, but thrusted back into you in one swift motion and you cried out again.

The sound of hips slapping against each other and your combined panting filled the quiet air as he worked to set a tempo, the tip of him contacting your deepest spot with every plunge that sent fire through your veins.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he declared, increasing his pace, determined to prove it.

You tugged at his hair and nodded in agreement, pulling him closer to you to capture his parted lips once more, eager to have him fulfill his promise.

As much as you didn’t want this to end, you knew neither of you would be able to last long. Feeling every inch of his thick cock slide in and out of you, hitting the perfect spot every time had your head spinning, each pump rubbing his coarse hairs against your swollen clit, getting you closer to your end.

His name fell freely from your raw lips, a mantra to the ecstasy he was giving you, which only brought more inspiration to the Prince.

“Kili…”

“That’s right, say my name,” he begged as he gripped harder on your hip to allow more traction to pound into you with even more force.

In addition to his ferociousness, the things he was saying to you wasn’t helping to prolong your session either. Kili continued spilling possessive proclamations from his mouth any time your lips weren’t locked together, making you feel powerful to have such an effect on him.

“I will be the only man who gets to make you feel this good,” he said hoarsely beside your ear, his intensity somehow increasing.

A cry escaped your lips as you began to climax, your walls clenching tightly around his member, your nails clawing at his back.

“That’s it,” he coaxed you, “let go. Let me have you, ghivashel.”

Allowing your body to give in to what it longed for so desperately, you did just as he told you and let yourself fall, shuddering around him as you came harshly, Kili not holding back as he pounded you over the edge. You felt him pulse inside you, filling you completely with his spend. He growled and with a twitch came down from his own high, your bodies in sync with each other, working as one. His lips met yours again in urgency while he still rocked slightly within you, the thickness and heat of his seed feeling exquisite against your fluttering core.

Kili remained encased by you, enjoying the feeling of you around him as he slowly softened. His forehead pressed against yours as you shared the same breath, and he couldn’t help but relish in the satisfaction of having you. You were his…

“I’ve needed you for so long, Y/N,” he admitted, “I needed to make you mine. I couldn’t bear to watch another man touch you, let alone look at you for another night.” He brushed his nose against yours, his lips moving against yours faintly while he spoke. “I should have done this long ago.”

You gave him an eager nod, “Yes, you should have, Kili. But we can make up for lost time.”

His mouth consumed yours again, a silent agreement that this wouldn’t be the last time he would prove to you that you belonged to him.

After a moment he pulled away from you, breaking the seal on your lips as well as the connection that remained of him inside you. As if feeling the loss immediately, he looked at you with a worried expression and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” he asked you, searching your eyes with a gentleness that contrasted to his earlier passion.

“Of course I will,” you responded with a smile, seeing how your answer instantly brought one to his own face, his brown eyes glowing.

He kissed you sweetly and cupped your cheek with his warm palm, “Thank you. I want to be with you any moment I possibly can.”

Your smile grew at his confession, seeing the love he had for you, your heart swelling at what could come to fruition between you and the Prince.

Now that Kili had you, he knew he could never be without you. He took your hand in his and thanked Mahal as he led you through the night toward Erebor that he was now with his One, the only one he ever needed.

———

Everything: @guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian

Kili: @valquiria3000 @fandomfaery

#kili #kili smut #kili smut request #request by anon #the hobbit #the hobbit kili #smut #smut fic #jealous Kili

386 notes · View notes

sithsecrets · 3 years

Text

rumors | din djarin x reader

A bit of gossip gets under your skin, but Din shows you that it's all a bunch of lies.

---

4k words

mentions: VERY EXPLICIT SMUT, fem!reader, a bit of harassment at the beginning, self-doubt, establishing a relationship, discussions about relationship dynamics, din tells reader his name

---

You know you’re in for trouble the minute two Guild Members sidle up next to you at the bar, shit-eating grins plastered on both of their faces.

They greet you and the baby with a kind of fake friendliness that makes your skin crawl, and not for the first time do you wonder what’s taking Mando and Greef so fucking long. The two men usually do business in under ten minutes, five if Mando can manage it, but of course today is the one day they decide to shoot the shit and pal around like old friends.

“So you’re Mando’s crew member, huh?” asks one of the bounty hunters, light eyes glinting mischievously as he leans in. “What’s he paying you these days anyway? Because I’d be happy to double his rate if it meant getting to have something as pretty as you around me all the time.”

“Ten percent,” you answer, choosing to ignore that last little comment, “and I’m perfectly okay with that.”

“That’s not bad,” Blue Eyes’ friend answers, brushing back a lock of his greasy hair with a smirk. “But what does that fee cover? You just a nanny for whatever the fuck that is,” he gestures to the Child in your lap, “or do you provide Mando with other services as well?”

On your left, Blue Eyes lets out a snicker, and Stringy Hair seems pleased with himself. You huff and roll your eyes, not at all in the mood for this shit.

“I take care of the baby and the ship, and I pilot the Crest from time to time.”

“You hear that, man? She’s a pilot and a maid!”

“Three guesses as to what she gives a good spit shine every night,” and then the two of them are absolutely cracking up, snickering behind their glasses as they toss back a round. They’re just mocking you now, so desperately trying to get a reaction, and you’re horrified by how it’s almost working. You don’t want to give them the satisfaction, but if they so much as—

“Everything alright over here?”

Mando’s voice is like a bucket of cold water down your back, startling you so badly that you almost fall off your barstool. The baby lets out a shriek of surprise, and you rush to make sure he’s secure in your arms before you turn around.

“Just fine,” you lie, rushing to get up. “We were just talking about your latest bounty.”

Stringy Hair and Blue Eyes don’t move to correct you, much more subdued now that Mando’s arrived on the scene. They greet him with respect, but he hardly gives the two dickheads a passing glance.

“We need to get back,” Mando tells you, and you’ve never been so glad to hear those words.

You nod, and then the three of you are trekking back to the Crest in silence. Mando goes up the cockpit immediately once you arrive, off to punch in the coordinates for his next quarry. Apparently Greef’s given him some kind of special assignment, so they journey to the next planet will be a long one.

The Crest lurches into hyperspace within minutes of takeoff, and you try to settle in for the evening, putting the baby down for the night, getting ready for bed yourself. The Child sleeps like a rock, but you aren’t so fortunate, tossing and turning in your little bed. It’s the conversation with those two assholes from earlier that’s got you so restless, their words playing over and over again in your head on loop. You don’t know why what they said bothers you, but it does. It bothers you a lot, in fact, mostly because they weren’t entirely wrong.

Everything you told Blue Eyes and Stringy Hair is true— Mando cuts you in ten percent on his bounties, and in exchange, you take care of the baby, maintain the ship (its living spaces and its mechanics, thank you very much), and you pilot the Crest from time to time when asked. But… But you’ve also fucked Mando before. Twice. Three times if you count the blowjob you gave him last week, but you’re not entirely sure that fits under the definition of “fucking.” Regardless of the details, you’ve had sexual contact with the Mandalorian— this is a fact. Mando’s never directly offered you money in return for sex, but it’s not like he didn’t just pay you your cut of his bounty less than an hour ago. And if those two pigs from the cantina could peg you at fifty yards, Maker knows what everybody else is thinking. Greef, Cara, even Peli on Tatooine— all of them must think you’re just Mando’s whore, right along with the rest of the Guild.

The idea of this weighs heavy on your mind, two parts of you waging an internal war. Your rational side says that you shouldn’t care what other people think of you— you’re a grown woman approaching thirty, and what you do with your body and your time is no one’s business but your own. The side of you that yearns to be accepted, however, worries that everyone’s secretly laughing at your behind your back, that they all think very little of you because of what you’ve done. And how could you blame them? You’ve let your employer fuck you twice, and all without him showing you an ounce of affection otherwise. Just thinking about it makes you feel remorseful, anxiety twisting in your stomach as you toss and turn in bed. And to make things worse, a third voice emerges in your mind, one that’s small and timid and raw. This little part of you wonders what Mando thinks of all this— it wonders what Mando thinks of you. You feel sick the minute it occurs to you, the notion that Mando could think nothing of you as well. Everyone else can say whatever they want, you suppose, if Mando still respects you at the end of the day. If he still cares for you at the end of the day…

After a whole hour, you decide that you won’t be sleeping until you get all of this sorted out. You’re almost shaking with anxiety as you approach the ladder, but you climb up to the cockpit anyway, calling out Mando’s name with a wavering voice. He says you can come in, and so you do, padding into the little space on socked feet.

“Everything okay?” Mando asks, vaguely distracted as he looks through holoimages on the display before him. You catch snatches of the same alien being in each one— Mando’s next quarry, no doubt.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “The baby’s asleep. He went down well tonight.”

Mando hums. “Good.”

“I, um. I’m having trouble sleeping, though, and I was hoping we could talk.”

Mando doesn’t look away from the holoimages as he speaks to you. “What about?”

You balk for a moment, gathering courage. “Us.”

Finally, it would seem you have Mando’s full attention. He shuts off the display and turns his chair until it faces you, the blue light of hyperspace reflecting off his armor and helmet. You grow shy under Mando’s gaze as you so often do, but you force yourself to be brave anyway. You can’t go on like this— you have to know.

“Us?” Mando echoes, titling his helmet just the slightest bit forward. You nod, and he straightens up again, regarding you. “What about us?”

“The sex,” you say slowly, “or, more specifically, why we had sex in the first place.”

“We had sex because we wanted to,” Mando says at once, and you just want to scream. He won’t make this easy on you, will he?

“Right, of course, but… but what made you want to come at me like that? Do you just like my body and how I look, or is it because you pay me—?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mando cuts, losing all semblance of cool indifference in one fell swoop, “you don’t— Please don’t tell me that you think having sex with me is part of your job.”

“I don’t, I don’t!” you declare, rushing to prevent a miscommunication before it happens. “I just— I just wasn’t sure why you wanted me of all people, and I met some people today that thought you hired me just so you could fuck me or whatever. They—”

“Was it those two fuckheads from the cantina?” Mando asks, tone absolutely murderous, and all you can do is nod. “What exactly did they say?”

“They asked me about my pay and about what’s ‘included in my fee,’” you reply, face burning at the thought of what Stringy Hair and Blue Eyes said at the bar. “They said you were probably paying me for sex the way you pay me to take care of the ship and the baby. It just… It made me self-conscious because we have had sex, and I wasn’t sure what that meant. I know they’re just assholes, but now I’m afraid everybody thinks that of me, especially Cara and Greef and your other friends.”

Mando lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Come here,” he says, beckoning you over with an outstretched hand. You hesitate to move, shocked by the gesture, and the Mandalorian repeats himself. “Come here, cyar’ika, please.”

The beskar is cold against the back of your thighs, but you settle in Mando’s lap anyway, sure you must be dreaming at this point. He fingers the hem of your long, baggy sleepshirt, one arm holding you securely.

“None of my friends think you’re fucking me for money,” Mando begins, “I promise. Those guys from the Guild you met today, they’re assholes just like you said. They might treat their women that way, but that’s not me. It never will be. Understand?”

You nod shyly, relishing in the way Mando begins drawing little circles at the base of your spine.

“Good. Now to answer your question… I had sex with you because I wanted to, yes, but it wasn’t just to get off. The baby likes you, and you do a good job taking care of the ship. People like you wherever we go… Ilike being around you.”

You’re smart enough to know that that’s a big statement coming from a man like Mando, and you reward him for this display of vulnerability with a soft smile.

“I like being around you too, Mando.”

The helmet tilts just the slightest bit, and you wonder what his expression looks like under the beskar.

“I like being around you,” Mando repeats, speaking slowly, “and… and I’m sorry. For starting like that, I mean.”

Your brows draw together. “What are you talking about?”

Mando readjusts his grip on your, and the way his hand settles over the curve of your thigh is enough to make you shiver. “I should have taken my time with you. Fucking you against the wall, bending you over those crates in the back— that’s fine sometimes, but you deserve more.”

“If that’s how you like it, I don’t—”

He cuts you off then, a gloved thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“I don’t care about me right now,” Mando says evenly, the tone of his voice picking at something deep in your stomach. “What do you want?”

It dawns on you then that this is foreplay— Mando’s decided he wants to fuck you again— and that makes your face hotter than fire itself. You know he’s waiting for an answer, so you decide to speak freely, the consequences of your words be damned.

“I want you to fuck me in bed,” you say slowly, whispering more than you’re talking. “With your gloves off. That’s not against the rules, right? You took them off the other day in front of me and Cara—”

“It’s not, mesh’la,” Mando affirms, the strange word dripping off his tongue like honey. You wonder what it means, though you don’t have the nerve to ask. “Go down to the hull and make us a space on the floor. I’ll be there in a minute.”

---

The darkness is disorienting, the blackness so black that you couldn’t see your own hand if it was two inches in front of your face. That’s by design, though, because none of this would be okay if you couldsee.

You had exactly two conditions earlier in the cockpit: in bed, no gloves. But it would seem that Mando had so much more in mind when he told you to come down here, and it’s anything beyond what you could have ever dreamed of. You’ve imagined this situation before, thought about what it might be like to know Mando this way, but to have it happen…

The beskar clangs softly as Mando lays it down, the sound letting you know that he’s somewhere off to your right. You’re sure he’s having no trouble seeing in the dark, given how many settings there on in his visor, but you can’t see a fucking thing. Not him, not his discarded armor, not even your own hand in front of you face. Under any other circumstance, you’d be afraid of the dark, but not now. No, now you simply tremble with anxiety, naked skin prickling with chills as you wait for Mando to undress himself. He stripped you first, of course, when the lights were still on, took his time and peeled your clothes off of you almost with reverence. You wish you could do the same to him, but something about that would be wrong you think— it would be crossing a line.

“Are you sure this is allowed?” you ask, almost whispering. The baby’s upstairs in the cockpit, dead to the world and tucked safely in his pram, and yet you still feel like you’re being too loud. Hyperspace is always so quiet, and the silence sets your teeth on edge even after all this time.

“Can you see me?” Mando asks, voice still filtered and staticky.

“I can’t even see myself,” you counter.

“Then it’s allowed.”

No more words pass between either of you for a moment, the space filled with the sound of clothes rustling. You hear a belt buckle and a zipper, can trace out the sounds of pants being kicked to the floor… Three short, bare footsteps, and then you aren’t alone on your little pallet anymore, Mando presence warm and undeniable close on the other side of the cushions.

“Cyar’ika.”

You aren’t sure if it’s the circumstances, or the fact that Mando speaks to you with a raw, unfiltered voice, but this one word picks at something inside you, gets you hot and needy where it counts. How many people has he laid down with like this? How many of them have heard Mando’s voice, his real voice, if any at all? You don’t know the answer to either of those questions, but you also don’t care, not right now.

“Can I touch you?” you ask softly, mustering all your strength and bravery. Mando doesn’t response, doesn’t so much as let out a breath, and so you jump when you feel his hand on your own. He guides you across the blankets, pulling you in closer, laying your palm on the warm, solid expanse of his forearm. Your fingers curl around it, squeezing the muscle, admiring the way Mando simply feels under your hands. He’s had so much of you— practically your whole body— and yet all you’ve been blessed with until tonight is the warmth of his hands, the feeling of his cock in you and on you. To feel his bare skin like this is strange, the fact that Mando is really and truly human coming into sharp focus as your fingers run along a scar, the hair on his arms…

“You’re handsome,” you declare, awed by feeling of Mando under your palms. He shudders when you lay your hand on the side of his face, the movement almost flinch-like in nature, but you’re quick to soothe his nerves with a gentle stroke of your thumb. You can’t imagine what this is like for Mando, can’t fathom what it must feel like to be touched when you hide yourself from everyone all the time. It’s in this moment that you realize he knows nothing of the sun or the wind, and your heart breaks for him.

“You wouldn’t say that if the lights were on.”

Mando sounds vaguely nervous now himself, voice more subdued than it was before. You have so much you want to say, want to shout out that you love everything about him and his body and your life together, but you that would be too much. No, doing something like that could ruin all of this in one fell swoop, and so you swallow those words down, replacing them with something else instead.

“If I ever get to see you one day,” you tell him, “I know for a fact that I’ll say the same thing. I promise.”

There’s a strange weight in that, a certain trust and understanding that you can’t put your finger on, but the pressure isn’t uncomfortable as it settles in the atmosphere, pressing you and Mando even closer. He pulls you under him without a word, holding you, twining your arms and legs and hands together until you aren’t sure where yours end and his begin. His kisses are tentative and unpracticed, but you feel the passion regardless, sighing as the press of Mando’s mouth tells you all the things he can’t say out loud. You don’t know how you ever got things twisted, aren’t sure how you could have possibly thought that Mando didn’t care for you because these aren’t the kisses and caresses of a man who sees you as little more than something to fuck. No, this is something else entirely, something better than you ever could have hoped for, and the rush of endorphins as your head swimming.

Your entire body arches when Mando begins to crawl down your body, his lips trailing over your neck and chest, your stomach and even the curve of your hip. “Mesh’la,” he says to you, murmuring into the spaces between your fingers. Mando’s paying particular attention to your hands now, kissing them delicately. “Listen to me, please.”

“Yes?” you say, half moaning as he drops your hand in favor of propping your legs open. The anticipation has you dizzy, brain fogged over completely as you wait, as you feel him line up your bodies—

Mando doesn’t say anything, not for several seconds, too distracted by the feel of you to speak. You’re fine with that, already too far gone to care after what, two, three thrusts? You couldn’t keep count if you wanted to, the haze in your brain too thick for any tedious mental activity to penetrate. Still, you try to listen like he asked, try to understand the words coming out of his mouth.

Mando’s voice is strained and low, but you catch everything regardless. “My name is Din,” he says to you, groaning shortly when you wind your fingers in his hair. “You can’t— You can’t say that in front of anyone, only to me and the baby. But that’s my name. I want you to call me by my name.”

“Anything you want, Din,” you say at once, and Maker does that have him swearing. Din does something with your body— opens your legs or lifts up your hips, something— and you see stars, whining brokenly. Not for the first time do you wish you could see his face or the plane of his back as he fucks you, but you have to admit that you’re glad that Din’s blind in all of this as well. You don’t even want to think about what you look like, how ruined and desperate your face must be. The pace is relentless now, and you find yourself struggling to keep up, keening and moaning and taking it until Din’s talking to you again.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, and you don’t understand.

“What?” you ask, breathless yourself. He hasn’t let up once since the two of you began, and even though you haven’t cum once, you already feel like you’re on another plane of existence.

“I’m sorry I never—” Din groans, adjusting his grip on your body. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at all of this shit. Talking and letting go and all the other stuff normal people do. I shouldn’t— You deserve more than that. I’m so sorry, cyar’ika.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” you tell him, holding fast to his shoulders, his arms, anything you can get your hands on. You don’t know how to tell him that all this is more than enough to make up for everything, that there’s hardly anything to make up for as it is.

“Yes, there is,” Din presses, and you know he wants to say more, but you cut him off before he can continue.

“Make me cum and kiss me while you do it,” you say to him, “and we’ll call it even.”

And Din seems more than happy to accept the deal, his fingers on your clit not three seconds after you’re done talking. You cum almost too fast, blindsided by your orgasm despite the fact that it’s been building for what feels like years now. Din’s not far behind you, asking whether or not he can cum inside you, and you tell him no, not this time. You have a long-term implant, but you it hasn’t been looked at by a medic in well over a year. It’s probably fine, but you’d rather be safe than sorry. And anyway, it’s not like the feeling of Din’s cum painting your stomach and chest isn’t incredibly hot, so you’re by no means complaining as you lie there and listen to him jerk himself off, your name falling from his lips.

“Stay here,” Din tells you, speaking gently even as he works to catch his breath. You miss him the second he’s gone, your ears straining to track his movements in the dark. Careful footsteps, the shuffling of blankets, the click of the light in the ‘fresher— you can’t see Din, not from this angle, but the idea that he even trusts you enough to cut a light on at a time like this has your heart pounding. He’s completely exposed in there, helmet still sitting next to his armor across the hull, and you almost close your eyes on reflex as you listen to the water run. But it’s all for nothing because Din tells you to do it anyway, turning off the faucet and stepping out into the hull again after you say that you’ve done as he asked.

The washcloth Din cleans you with is warm, a fact that’s not lost on you as you lie there in the semi-darkness. He’s quiet, but the delicate, precise nature of Din’s work speaks volumes. You want to ask him if this is something he does for everyone he sleeps with, but you keep your mouth shut, thinking a question like that might ruin the mood. He goes away from you again once your stomach’s clean, cutting off the light in the ‘fresher and discarding the rag all while you keep your eyes closed. It’s not until Din’s back in bed beside you that you dare to so much as crack them open, afraid you might glimpse too much if you move any sooner.

“Thank you,” you murmur. You’re not sure if you’re thanking Din for the sex or for cleaning you up, but it’s probably a bit of both.

“You’re welcome, cyar’ika,” he replies, pulling you in close. “Are you tired?”

You don’t speak for a moment, thinking of how hard it is to keep your eyes open now, how your thighs ache and your body yearns for rest. “Yeah.”

“Sleep, then,” Din tells you, and you almost feel pathetic for clinging to him like a child. Almost.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

You aren’t sure why you’re asking— it’s not like Din has anywhere else to go— but his answer is important to you regardless.

“Right here, mesh’la,” he tells you, sounding tired now himself. “I promise.”

#my writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction

236 notes · View notes

imaginedxlan · 3 years

Text

Drivers License Pt. 2 (Ron Weasley)

a/n: You guys absolutely went off for part 1, thank you so so much!! Someone requested that I make a part 2 where y/n finally gets a happy ending, but without ron so I decided to kind of run with the idea, this time sort of from ron’s point of view.

disclaimer: the timeline in the books/movie are gonna line up in this one. I know they didn’t have a seventh year and i know ron kissed lavender before winter but this is obv not cannon, go with it, also fred dying was a prank anyway so YOU THOUGHT it would be included. absolutely not.

After taking y/n’s affection for granted, Ron realizes he’s made a huge mistake when she’s moved on to be happy without him

warning(s): cussing, sadness, broke my own heart writing this

Pay attention to the gif, keep it in your mind towards the end.

Part 1

___________________

And all my friends are tired Of hearing how much I miss you, but I kinda feel sorry for them 'Cause they'll never know you the way that I do

It took a long time for you to move on from Ron, you didn’t have to look very far to do so. Ginny had told off Ron one night for hurting you without realizing the twins were awake and hearing all the nasty things Ron put you through. By that point he and Hermione were no longer together, she realized he was too good of a friend to lose to a ‘stupid school relationship.’ So now he was alone, completely clueless to the fact that someone else had begun pining over you.

“Merlin, not this again.” Harry groans into his textbook. The wizarding world was on the verge of destruction and all Ron could speak about was how much he missed you. “Ron, we get it you fucked up with her, get over it.”

The boys had heard the same speech everyday. He would first start off with ‘I know I say this a lot’ then go onto name the things he misses most about you. Your hair, your eyes, your laugh, how small your hands are compared to his. He then groans about how stupid he is for, well, everything.

“I never heard you talk about her before now,” Dean adds, actually semi-invested in the drama that surrounded Ron’s love life. “Whats so special about her anyway?”

How could he even begin to explain what was so special about you. As much as he wished he could say he lied to you about everything he said to you, how easy it would be if he never gave a shit about you, that just isn’t the case. You had this way of making him feel safe whenever he held you. He wasn’t lying when he told you that you felt like home, he just didn’t mean to say it to soon. Maybe that was the reason he decided to kiss Lavender Brown, knowing you were watching. He wanted to push you away in the most hurtful way possible that you never even thought about coming back to him, but immediately regretted that decision.

You also had this weird hold on him, even when he was with Hermione, he would catch a glimpse of your smile and his heart would drop into his stomach. He would see your eyes sparkle in the light of the living room fire place when you were visiting the Burrow and want to scream out that he never meant to hurt you. He notices things about you that you probably hadn’t even noticed about yourself. The way your nose will scrunch when you focus really hard when Ginny tries to teach you wizard chess, how he wishes you would let him close enough to teach you. His heart aches when he notices you shift away from him, even after he and Hermione broke up. When you and Gin walk into the Great Hall for dinner and you go out of your way to sit as far from his as you can.

“You don’t understand,” Ron huffs out, rolling onto his side, wishing you were laying close into his chest like you used to. “She’s something else.”

“Ron, I know you miss her and everything but I have to tell you that you missed your chance,” Harry tells him. “Ginny tells me more than she probably should about all of this, she’s finally moved on from you mate, let it go.”

But how could he? How could he move on when you’re constantly around? He can hear a laugh from all the way down the hall and immediately know its falling from your lips, he’ll hear the sound of an engine from his bedroom window and know you’ve arrived for one of your weekend stays. The way you get on so well with his family, you’re perfect for him, you always have been but he took you for granted and now all he can do is complain to his friends about how he let you go.

And I know we weren't perfect But I've never felt this way for no one, oh And I just can't imagine How you could be so okay now that I'm gone?

He thought for a long time that you were a temporary fix for his feelings that ran deep within him for Hermione, but being with her only made him realize that it was you all along. How could he have been so stupid? He refused to let his friends know you were together, in fear that Hermione would lose the feelings he had prayed she felt toward him, but in doing so he only pushed you away.

“Ron, we can’t keep sneaking around like this.” You would tell him after he pulled you into a broom closet in the middle of the day. “They’ll find out eventually, it’s not like Ginny would be cross with either of us.”

Ron was never able to give you a clear answer when it came to why you had to hide from everyone, not wanting to admit to you that it was because he was hung up on his best friend. Looking back now, it was the stupidest decision he ever made. While your relationship was chaotic and spontaneous and secretive, it was still something he now yearned for everyday, he needed to feel what he felt for you then. More specifically, he needed you to feel what you felt for him back then too. Admittedly, he never loved Lavender Brown, she was only there to stroke his ego. He thought he loved Hermione, but how can you fully love someone if your heart is connected to someone else? Loving you felt different than with anyone else, his chest burned and his hands tingled whenever you were around him.

That’s why it hurt him so badly to see you move on, and not to just anyone. After Ginny’s outburst toward her brother over how he continued to treat her best friend, a certain Weasley grew closer to you. At first, George wanted to apologize to you for the way his brother treated you as well as help you navigate co-existing with the boy. However, the more time you spent with George, the closer you became. You found yourself laughing at his stupid pranks that wouldn’t have even warranted a grin years ago. You felt the need to be near him grow more everyday, Ron noticed your sudden draw toward his brother as well.

He couldn’t understand how after, according to Ginny, crying over him for days on end, barely being able to get into your car to drive to the Burrow in fear of seeing him you could all of a sudden move on to his brother. Now that he realized how bad he messed up, he’s miserable that you weren’t around him, that you didn’t love him like you used to. How could you not feel the same hollow feeling he did?

What Ron didn’t see was that you did feel that hollow feeling, for months actually. You watched him fall in love and out of it twice before he realized you were the one, but by that time you didn’t have anything left to give him. You were healing in a way that caused you to grow apart from him even further. You found happiness is sleepovers with Ginny, helping Molly in the kitchen, and now long drives with George. You no longer felt like you needed Ron to survive. You didn’t eat, sleep, and breathe him anymore and that killed him.

You were careful to never make Ron feel the same way you did when you saw him with Lavender and Hermione, you weren’t as cruel as he was back then, but it was no secret that you and the twin had sparked some sort of relationship. Ginny was over the moon, as she began to lose hope in having you as a real sister by being with Ron, George came in and saved the day. If you thought Ron was mature for his age, George was practically ten times more. The more responsible of the twins, he always seemed to know exactly what to do and say in every situation. He always gave the best advice. What to do when a professor wouldn’t let up, how to sneak around the halls of Hogwarts at night, and most commonly how to continue in your growth while the one person who seems to stunt it is living only a stones-throw away. While you were still in school and he was running the shop, he would send you letters updating you on his life and beg you to come work at the shop with him and Fred when you finish school, telling you that you would make an excellent addition to the team. His words never failed to make you blush.

He’s three years older than you, almost twenty by the time you had moved on completely from Ron, so nothing ever really happened with George then, but your growing companionship could only be expected to blossom from there. Ron couldn’t stand it. Of all people you could seek comfort in, it had to be his brother. He would hear you gushing to Ginny about the most recent letter you received in the Common Room or witness you and George chatting about something completely arbitrary over Christmas and seethe with anger. In his mind, if you had ever truly loved him like you say you did, you wouldn’t be so content knowing that you two would never be together.

Red lights, stop signs I still see your face in the white cars, front yards Can't drive past the places we used to go to 'Cause I still fuckin' love you, babe

It was no longer a secret to any of the Weasley clan that Ron was miserable. When he’s at school, he’s complaining to his friends about what he could have done differently so that he could have you. At home he begged his sister to stop bringing you around, as if he had any say in whether or not you visited the Burrow. Now being old enough to use magic outside of Hogwarts, he would apparate out any time he heard you pull up to his driveway. He would go to London mostly, distracting himself in the busy streets and crowds of people.

It never worked. Somehow everywhere he turned he thought he would catch a glimpse of your hair blowing in the wind. He would shake his head just to realize you were never there. Any white car that passed next to him would immediately strike fear in his heart, thinking you were behind the wheel, but you never were. He couldn’t decide if he was looking for you in everything or if he was so afraid to see you that he imagined you everywhere. Nevertheless, there was nothing Ron Weasley could do that would effectively distract himself from you, and he’s now starting to realize it’s all his fault.

If he hadn’t been so self centered to fall into Lavender Brown’s compliments and praises due to his egomania, he would have never kissed her in front of you. At the time he thought of it as kind of a test, how far could he push you before you were no longer kissing the ground he walked on. Seeing you still tremble at his touch or your cheeks heat up whenever he said your name made him feel good, like you would never leave him. Now that you’re gone, he’s kicking himself for pushing that limit. He didn’t know it would take him falling into Hermione’s arms in that hospital bed in front of you to ruin your good opinion of him forever, but if he did he swears he would have called out your name that day instead.

On top of the Dark Lord plotting to take over the wizarding world as he knew it, his last semester was filled with memories of you. Any time he would walk into the common room his heart would fill with sorrow, recalling how it felt to first kiss you there. He would also replay the moment he kissed Lavender Brown in that very spot, after pulling away catching a glimpse of you rushing through the crowd of Gryffindors to get away from him. In that moment he felt like the world’s biggest arse, yet it didn’t keep him from holding onto Lavender a bit longer. He avoided certain hallways that would force him to pass the broom closets and empty classrooms he pulled you into throughout the school day, hiding you from his friends. What a stupid thing to do. Part of him knew back then that he would never feel the way he felt about you for anyone else, but he was greedy.

Seeing you happy without him ripped his heart out of his chest and tore it to shreds. How you would smile down at a piece of parchment, assuming it was a letter from his brother. The sound of your voice carrying through the dorms as you and Ginny would stay up late in the common room talking about nothing and everything all at once. He couldn’t bear living right next to you, co-existing with you, while you just ignored him and grew apart from him.

“Y/n,” He calls your name. You’re alone in the common room, that is until he came in. You hadn’t heard him say your name in a while, you find it doesn’t have the same impact on you as it did a year ago and you’re grateful for that. “Y/n, can I talk to you?”

“What is it, Weasley?” You ask him, hoping the dismissal you intended in your tone translates. You had spent months avoiding him, avoiding the longing gazes, so that you could pick up the pieces of your heart that he shattered and put them back together. He doesn’t respond for a while, just admiring how you look in the glow of the fireplace. “I don’t have all night, get on with it.”

“Right,” He replies, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. He takes a seat on the arm chair across from the couch that you’re sat on, careful not to get too close. Your face is cold, he almost doesn’t recognize you without your smile. “I messed up, Y/n. I know I did. I fucked it all just to have a quick fix because I’m arrogant and selfish. I was so lost back then, in my own pride, that I didn’t know what I wanted out of life. But I know now what I needed then, what I need now.”

You don’t reply. Your heart is sinking but you do a great job of hiding it. Your face doesn’t change even though your inside is screaming. After months of crying and misery, watching the first boy you had fallen in love with fawn over what felt like every girl in the school, you had finally stopped hurting. Your heart doesn’t ache when you see him anymore, you don’t blush when you hear his name and you stopped yearning for his touch. Yet now, he has the audacity to try and fix it. Months ago you would have welcomed this grand gesture of what you can only assume to be a confession of the love he never lost for you, but you’re not the person you were then, thanks to the boy sat in the armchair that forced you to grow up and move on from him so soon.

“Say something.”

“Say something?” You ask, gawking at his audacity and slamming your book next to you. “You dangle your little relationships in front of me for almost a fucking year, pretending like I never meant anything to you and you’d like me to say something? Do you understand what kind of pain you caused? I cried until I had nothing left because you told me all these nice things about me, you told me you loved me, then you kissed Lavender right in front of me. Not only that but I spent hours, Ron, hours sitting next to your bed in the hospital scared shitless that you were going to die in there. You know who came twenty minutes before you woke up, Granger. I was there for hours and who’s name you did you call out? Hers. Months ago I would have eaten this shit up, Weasley. You could have come in here and told me my hair looked different and I would have fallen in love with you all over again. Not anymore. I’m finally happy, you don’t get to ruin that because things didn’t turn out the way you wanted them to with Hermione.”

He sits in front of you, shocked. Part of him expected you to always want him, to come back to him even after all this time but he was wrong. He looked at you, hoping that maybe you were lying, that you were just scared to get hurt again so you put on a face for him but the look in your eyes told him more than what just fell from your lips. You hate him.

“Y/n, please.” He whimpers as you start to collect your things to leave this room immediately. There are only two of you but you feel suffocated. “I love you.”

“Shut up.” You tell him, not in jest, not to tease him but genuinely wanting him to stop speaking. “Don’t you dare say that to me ever again. You don’t deserve to know what it’s like for me to love you, you never did.”

You leave him sitting alone in the common room, heart shattered from your words that dug into him like a thousand knives. He replayed it over and over again, to feel something other than the numbness that was sure to come in time when you love someone you cannot have. He still had to be around you, watch you live your life without him. He had to see you laugh and know he could never put a smile like that on your face ever again. In order to fully heal from the heartache he was facing he knew he had to separate himself from you, to leave for a while so he didn’t have to see you fall in love with his brother, but he couldn’t. He decided he would rather have you in the smallest way possible, watching you from afar, seeing you smile like you once did at him, then never see you again.

Sidewalks we crossed I still hear your voice in the traffic, we're laughing Over all the noise God, I'm so blue, know we're through But I still fuckin' love you, babe

Years Later

Following your last year at Hogwarts, you followed George’s orders and began working at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. The twins were overjoyed to have your help, George especially so to have you around so often. With you 18 and he 21, after all these year he made his move on you, your friendship blossoming into something more.

You finally knew what it felt like to love and be loved back. George never tried to keep you from his friends, he never snuck off with you to hide your relationship, rather he paraded you around, proud that ‘someone like him was able to swing someone like you.’ He made you blush every time he looked at you, his handsome smile always pulling at your heartstrings. You had become addicted to being loved in that way.

Ron didn’t love your new relationship with his brother as much as as you did. He knew you deserved someone good, someone who would treat you right, he just wished it didn’t have to be someone who placed you in his life indefinitely. His heart ached whenever he would see George’s hand reach for yours as you giggled through the backyard of the Burrow. The worst was when he caught the two of you kiss for the first time.

It was late in the Summer, just after you and Ginny finished your years at Hogwarts. You were visiting just like you always did that time of year and late one night Ron heard rustling down from the main floor. Fearing that an animal had gotten in the house, he immediately searched for the origin of the noise. What he was met with was worse than if an acromantula had found its way into his kitchen. There you were, your hands tangled in his brother’s fiery red hair and his resting on your waist, your body pressed up to the sink. As he watched your lips against his brother’s, he felt as if a fire had engulfed his heart, his chest beginning to sting as it became harder to breathe. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t stop you two, just turned on his heels and darted back to his bedroom. When he was finally safe in his solitude, he slid against his door and broke down. The memories of the two of you in that very kitchen years ago flooded his sense.

During winter break of his sixth year and your fifth, the two of you spent your time cooking and cleaning together in that kitchen, laughing over the littlest things. Even when you weren’t right next to each other, he could still hear your laugh over all the commotion in the house. It was and still is his favorite sound. He wishes that he could bring that sound from your lips again, hoping that maybe one day you’ll realize your love for his brother is really misdirected love toward him, but that all changed.

You’re now 22 and George is 25. You have officially been together for four year. The shop had expanded immensely, renovations to the first store and new shops opening up all over the country and the continent. You count yourself lucky to be a part of it, to be able to say your boyfriend was the co-owner of the most successful joke shop in Europe. Being able to see how his eyes glow like it’s his first day of work every single day still makes your heart smile.

Tonight is another unveiling event of a new shop, this one in Spain. However, this new location being the 10th shop to open up in the continent, the boys decided this launch party would be more formal than the last, a bigger celebration. You all are dressed up, George in a tuxedo and you in a floor length gown. You loved seeing George in his everyday clothes, thinking he would look handsome in a potato sack, but there is something about that boy in a suit. All your friends and family are there, investors too. It’s a night you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

Ginny is still your best friend, you can’t imagine a day when she isn’t. You still have sleepovers in the Burrow even though you had your own lives and own flats. She’s still with Harry, a ring now occupying her left finger. When he proposed you and Ginny immediately started planning the wedding, there was no question who the maid of honor would be. She practically begs her older brother to make an honest woman out of you every time she sees him because she wants to, like almost everything in your lives, go through this experience with you.

Ron is there, of course he is. One of the biggest milestones in his older brothers’ career paths so far, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. He works at the shop sometimes, never with you, Fred and George would never be so cruel to ask him to do such a thing. He watched you for most of this night, his brother’s hand resting on your lower back every time he looked. While he knew your smile that you were putting on for investors and old friends was partly exaggerated so you could better play your role of proud girlfriend to the co-owner, he still admired how it sparkled like no one else’s he had ever seen. You grew more beautiful with every year you aged, this of course hurt him to still see you so happy without him.

You catch Ron’s stares throughout the night, you ignore them for the most part. You have come a long way, you were sixteen with you had your heart absolutely shattered by the boy and now you’re an adult. You have a job, a home, a life that at one point you could have never imagined living without him. The boy you were once completely and utterly bewitched by is now just a faint memory, a small ping in your chest when you think of how someone could hurt you so badly at such a young age. You catch his eye and smile at him, no longer angry with him. Like most things, George helped you process your anger. He couldn’t stand to see you so furious anytime you saw someone who mattered quite a bit to him. George has his moments when he hears something Ron did to you for the first time and becomes outraged, now that he loves you and everything, but he always reminds himself that its in the past.

Ron smiles back, you can tell he’s forcing it, but it’s a step in the right direction. Something tells him that he’ll never fully get over you, that part of his heart will always be in your possession. The only way he can describe his feelings whenever he’s around you anymore is blue, every shade of blue. Sometimes are better than other, a sky blue, a bit brighter but still a hint of sadness. Other times are a navy blue, complete and utter darkness. He hasn’t decided what tonight is blue-wise.

“Fred and I would like to thank you all for coming tonight.” George speaks into a microphone placed on an elevated surface in the new shop. You can’t help but admire his features, he looks so mature. “As you all know, courtesy of this bloody massive sign above our heads, this is our tenth shop to open across the continent. It feels surreal to say, eh Freddie?”

“You said it, George.” Fred replies. “Everyone in this room holds a special place in our heart, you’ve all, in your own ways, made this shop what it is today. We are so grateful to have such loyal and fantastic business partners, friends, and family.”

You want to cry, not a sad cry, but burst into tears over how far the two of them have come. When you first joined them in working at the shop, it was just a corner store on Diagon Alley, now it’s a world wide chain. You see the ins and outs of the business, knowing just how much work the two of them put into this dream. You’re able to catch George’s gaze, mouthing an I love you which he returns with a wink.

“Before we let you all get back to the party, theres one person we would like to specifically thank,” George speaks again before pointing down to you and motioning you to come up with them. You shake your head at him, not wanting to impede on the well deserved attention and praise the boys are getting. “Y/n, this isn’t an option come on up here. Alright, for those of you who don’t know this is my lovely, gorgeous, smart, talented-”

“Alright, get on with it Georgie!” Fred interrupts, making the crowd of people laugh. “I think they get the point.”

“Okay, okay.” George puts his hands up in defense. “Like I was saying, or those of you who don’t know this is Y/n. She’s better known to most of you as the lady who was stupid enough to say yes when I asked her to be my girlfriend, but she was the stores first hired employee. She has been with us for all the renovations, all the expansions and has always supported us in every hair-brained idea Freddie and I have come up with. She has since become our creative director for the company as well as held a seat on our board for, well as long as we’ve had a board. Without her, I think we might just crumble to the ground.”

“Oh stop that!” You don’t mean for it to come out so loud, but you make the crowd laugh again and your cheeks heat up. You slide in front of George to bring your mouth up to the microphone. “They’re making my role seem much larger than it is, all of this that you’ve seen over the years has very little to do with me.”

“Pay no mind to her, she’s being humble.” George retorts, and you decide to stop fighting it. “I guess what I’m trying to say is our lives, especially mine, would be a lot harder if Y/n wasn’t in it. I couldn’t think of a better place, in front of a better group of people, to ask this question.”

Before you can process his words, your boyfriend is lowering down on one knee and pulling a small box out of his pocket. You hear gasps and whistles coming from the crowd, making you turn to see Ginny with the biggest smile on her face. You look back down to George, your hands going to cover your gaping mouth. This is not real. The red haired boy opens the box to reveal a ring, a massive diamond in the center with what seemed like a dozen smaller diamonds surrounding it. So this is where all the money the shops have been making was going.

“Y/n, my dearest love,” He doesn’t even get a full sentence out and you’re already shaking. “It will never make sense to me why you said yes to being my girlfriend, but I’m hoping whatever came over you that day is over you now so you’ll say yes to this one too. Y/n, will you make the happiest bloke to every walk this earth and marry me?”

You can’t even form words, your heart feeling like it’s migrated to your throat. You can only nod and pull him up from his kneeling position to pull him into the tightest hug you’ve ever given. “Yes, yes. One thousand times yes. Georgie, I love you!”

George gives you that smile that melts you in every way and places the ring on your left finger. Ginny finally got her way. He pulls you in for a small kiss and your friends and family clap and shout with joy. You can hear Molly shouting over everyone else. Everyone in the room is clapping and celebrating but one person.

Ron’s mouth is agape, watching as you say yes to spending the rest of your life with his brother. He wants to be happy for the two of you, he wants to be able to celebrate with his family but the dull ache in his heart that has been present since the night in the common room that you told him to never say the words you just shouted to his brother turns into a sharp pain. This is the final nail on the coffin that is the hope Ron held that you would one day be together. That small glimmer dying as the ring is placed on your dainty hand. It doesn’t take long for Harry to notice the look on his best friends face, excusing himself from Ginny for a moment.

“You alright?” Harry asks quietly, careful not to draw attention to the one person in the room that isn’t happen for the newly engaged couple at the front. “Ron you have to at least pretend to be happy for them.”

Ron looks over to Harry and shakes his head. “I wish I could be happy for them mate. Everything in me wishes I had done something differently so it was me asking her that question.”

Harry is quiet for a while, watching as Ron’s face keeps the shocked and defeated look that its held since he saw his brother get on one knee. He balls his hands into fists every few minutes to keep himself from going completely numb. “You really still love her, don’t you? After all this time.”

“‘Course I fucking do.” Ron whispers, not meaning for it to come out as harsh as it did. He and Harry talk for a little while, just to keep his mind off the obvious stressor in the room, until Ginny is pulling Harry away to come and congratulate her best friend. Ron is left alone as we watches your smile, a genuine one this time, is glued to your face as you show anyone and everyone the ring. George is standing proudly beside you, holding your waist. You never look his way, too involved in sharing the most exciting moment of your life, though Ron wishes you would look over to him. He wishes he could catch your eye and sense some form of regret, then come save the day, but that never happens. Today is the darkest shade of blue imaginably, knowing for certain that your whole heart belongs to someone else. Quietly, for no one else to hear but him, he utters:

“I love you, I always will.”

#ron weasley #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagine #george weasley #george weasley imagine #weasley imagine #weasley twins #gryffindor #gryffindor imagines

145 notes · View notes

unknown-saddened-user · 3 years

Text

When I’m Watching You Watch Him

Jason X Reader

Mention of Dick X Reader

A/N: Got hit with an oldie but good song. Watching You Watch Him by Eric Hutchinson, just makes me feel all sorts of ways. Anywho, my friend was making me binge some of the animated DC films with her and this just kinda happened, my bad.

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

I love you from the bottom of my heart

And that's not gonna change, but things look grim

Oh, Jason had it bad. Really, really bad. Just watching her do the simplest of things made him melt into a puddle.

He had a slight crush on (y/n) before he died. And not to be dramatic or anything, but after all the care and time she had put into helping him recover he’s pretty sure she could hit him with a crowbar and he’d still put a ring on it.

What did all those gen-z toddlers call it, simping? Yeah, he was kinda a simp for her at this point, and there was use trying to escape the reality of it. Everywhere his mind took him always brought him back to the same thought, (y/n). That’s fine though, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He was a man damned to eternal hell in the presence of a blessed angel from the highs of heaven. Well shit, this ain't gonna go well.

When I'm watching you watch him

Christ, there she goes again looking at his goddamn brother. Dick fucking Grayson, golden boy himself, the first boy wonder. All eyes were only Dick as he told countless tails in remarkable detail at the large round table. She watched him from across the table, an unmistakable sparkle in those lively (e/c) eyes of hers.

“C’mon (y/n) bring those pretty eyes this way,” Jason whispered quietly enough as to not be heard.

Both elbows of his elbows were on the table which was something that would drive Alfred insane. One hand tapped idly on the oak surface, and the palm of the other held his heavy head. His gaze focused on her, taking every feature, loving each and every bit of the angel before him.

He knew he didn’t deserve her, but he couldn’t help but yearn for her anyways. Hell she deserved better than anyone in this damned family.

I give you the best a man can hope to give

He wants nothing more than to spoil her. And just when she thinks she’s seen it all he’ll surprise her with something new and filled with love.

Jason would do anything for her, if only she would only let him. He could repay all the love she put into him at least ten fold.

But I'm not feeling brave

Chances are slim

Jason was a man of action, words were never really his forte. But, of course it was something his brother excelled at. Capturing every spot light within miles of his being, there never seemed to be a moment when attention strayed from the eldest.

Of course there was so much Jason wanted to say to (y/n). However, everytime he got the chance, her attention was always pulled somewhere else. And when she came back to ask him what he wanted to say, he would always brush it off, completely missing his shot. So all the things he wanted to say went unsaid.

One would figure that literature would have maybe taught him something about wooing a lady, but alas, he is a hopeless romantic with no idea how to talk to his crush.

When I'm watching you watch him

Today was the day of another gala Jason was forced to attend. That meant that he had to dress to impress, tux and all, much to his dismay.

Jason of course arrives early to help Alfred prep with the rest of the boys. Which never ended well. When he opened the door he was greeted by the sadly normal sight of Damian attempting to choke Tim, and while most time he would have joined in the chaos, a dolled up damsel caught his gaze.

(Y/n) was trying to persuade Damian to let Tim go. She offered him cookies, however, Damian was not fazed.

God she was gorgeous, he thought. Lightly applied makeup on her already flawless complection, a dress complimenting her figure perfectly, hair topping it all off to complete the look. She was just, so her, and he loved it.

Just as he was about to lend a helping hand in her efforts, Dick stepped in to physically separate the two boys. Jason could only watch as she blushed when that dumbass winked towards her. Damian, of course, ran to her glaring at Tim as he asked for the promised cookie. Dick laughed as she raised a questioning brow at the boy hugging her waist. Jason let out a sign, walking past them to the kitchen, occasionally glancing at her, desperate for her to return his stares.

Oh, what is left to learn

When he will let you crash and burn

Dick was quite the flirt, it wasn’t hard for anyone to figure out upon meeting him. He flirted with every single person, heck he would probably flirt with a dog. Jason shuttered at the thought.

All Dick’s life he has been a player, toying around with others' feelings. A complete heartbreaker. It kills Jason to know that she could possibly become one of the many victims burned by his games.

He never gives attention

But you still yearn

It's obvious to Jason that she was enraptured by Dick, falling for all his empty flirting. Or at least that’s how he saw it. If only she could see it the way Jason did. Maybe then her heart wouldn’t ache for someone who never who would never see her in a romantic way.

Part of Jason is relieved that Dick isn’t into her. But still….

Where do I fit in

There she was sitting next to Damian who was fiddling with her fingers out of boredom. It was kinda sweet how motherly she was to him. And anyone could tell just how much that little demon spawn looked up to her. (Y/n) was someone Damian values above all others, even Dick. He was stuck to her side every moment he could be, only acting his real age around her. She just had that effect on him and Jason has no idea how she does it.

Every Wayne had a special place in her heart, just like she held a special place in theirs. The whole family was like her own, they were a family she never had growing up all alone in the streets of Gotham.

The same exact streets he spent most of his childhood wonder around. Having a similar past made it easy for the two to bond. Exchanging memories of hardships and prosperities while laying on the roof of Wayne Enterprise, tracing out shapes made from glowing stars in the moonlit sky.

When I’m watching you watch him

Jason sat alone sipping whiskey from the canteen tucked in the inside of his coat pocket. He could just tell by the way she was looking at his older brother who was dancing between a crowd of ladies that it was going to be a very very long night.

God only knows why I still wait around

Except I hate to see you cry

He doesn’t understand how Dick could just ignore her loving gazes. Does Dick not understand that the woman Jason practically worshipped was crying out for his attention? What a dumbass, Jason thought.

And I need you

But there are things I cannot do

If only Jason had the balls to go over there and ask her to dance. Steal her attention away from that play boy and focus it on the man who would die for her in a heartbeat. (Y/n) was his salvation, his savior from the twisted shadow that darkened all that good in his mind after being revived.

Though his mind was screaming at him to comfort her, he physically could not approach her. Not even Jason himself understood what was holding him back, it was not pride, not masculinity, god knows he would scrap all of that for her.

Maybe it was fear, the fear of not being good enough. The fear of being rejected by her angelic self.

Man, he sighed taking another swig of the bitter liquid, it was indeed going to be a long night.

And I want you

When he’s playing all his games

Jason watched her the whole night, even when she got her turn to dance with Dick. The sight really tore Jason to pieces. He would almost rather get beaten with a crowbar then watch that ever again.

It was hard to pick between swooning over the smiles and giggles passing those luscious lips of her and punching the absolute shit out of Dick as he led her on. But, he chose to just let her be happy for the moment.

However that moment was short lived as people who stood idly on the side were pulling into the center of the room to dance. Every time someone tried to coax him over he would snap at them. That was until she held out both of her hands out to him, at first he shook her off. But, unfortunately for him, (y/n) was just as stubborn as he was and she was going to get him out on that floor even if it was the last thing she ever did.

Puffing out her chest strut over to his isolated figure. Oh, how he wished she had not come over to him. Who the hell was he if he had denied the pouty expression on her face that was supposed to be a menacing glare.

And it gets hard to tell who's the victim

Both of them danced the longest together which kinda pissed off the baby bat who wanted her attention oh so badly. Jason could give less of a shit thought, he was going to make the most of this moment.

Two partner rotations had gone by as people swayed with the music, but he wasn’t quite ready to give her up. Life, like always, didn’t seem to want to comply with Jason’s wishes as she was swiped from him amongst the crowd as another person was thrown into him.

The two youngest were quick to catch onto Jason’s dilemma. Tim felt kinda bad, the longing stares of a broken man really did a number on the sleep deprived boy’s heart strings. Damian pretended to not give two shits, he values Dick as an important role model, but even Damian knew that Dick was no good for his beloved Ummi. If Damian had to choose between the two, he would rather her go with Jason.

When I’m watching you watch him

The cycle continued just as it had for months on end. Jason would look her way, but his gaze was never returned.

Oh, what is left to learn to learn

When he would let you crash and burn

She would give her romantic affection to the eldest, just like she alway had. And in return Dick strung her along like a lovesick puppy on a loose leash. Never committing to her, but flirting just enough to keep her hooked on in his delusional version of love.

He never gives attention

But you still yearn

One day, Jason prays, one day she will look his way. Giving her even more love then she could ever hope for.

But, that day is not today, or the next day, or the day after that. All he can do is wait hopelessly from his spot.

Where do I fit

Sometimes he wonders if she even sees him anymore. He feels as though he has become nothing but a forgotten memory filed in the back of that pretty head of hers.

Jason can only hope that one day she will see him the same way he sees her.

When I’m watching you watch him

As of lately something seemed to be off. Her eyes weren’t as bright as they were. She carried herself in an anxious manner, constantly fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

It concerned Jason to no end. He had no idea why she was acting the way she was, and no matter how far he dug nothing came up. And it aggravated him that Dick ignored her strange behavior, it really wasn’t that hard for someone to tell something was off if they had been around her as long as the Wayne's have.

Hell, even Damian took notice of her distressed figure. Her state caused the brat to cling to her hip even more than normal. Occasionally, Damian would send a glare the golden boy’s way as he approached the two. Damian’s worried expression shifts to her face to Jason’s stares in a pleading manner. It was if he was asking Jason to do something. Fix her, help her, comfort her; do something dammit.

God only known why I still wait around

Except I hate to see you cry

Imagine his surprise when the angel of his dreams shows up at his door in the middle of the night, tears staining the soft skin of her cheeks. Her eyes were red and puffy, it's not hard to tell that she had been crying for a couple of hours.

One of Jason’s old oversized sweatshirts draped over her much smaller frame. She bunched up one of the giant sleeves, a heap of fabric gathered into the palm of her still covered hand. Using the sleeve she wiped her wet eyes making tiny splotches of the fabric darken from the salty liquid.

Oh God, he didn’t know what good he had done for her to show up at his doorstep, but he wasn’t going to question it.

And I need you

But there are things I cannot do

(Y/n) was a sight for sore eyes, even in her grief stricken state.

Gathering her into his arms, Jason pulled her into the apartment quietly shutting the door behind her as to not startle her any further.

Jason had an idea as of why she was upset. Dick stood her up for their weekly coffee get together for the second time this month, opting to hang out with some whore he met at the gala the other month.

It was pathetic really. Dick had no concern for (y/n)’s feelings and it made Jason’s blood boil dangerously close to the lip of the pot.

And while this probably would have flustered him in any other scenario, leading to him awkwardly patting her back or something. But, there was only one thing going through his mind at this point. Comforting her. Making all her problems become nothing but a long forgotten memory.

And I love you

Like a broken record plays

But I’m a window pane

A phantom limb

No matter how much it hurt him to hold her so close, knowing that she didn’t return his fatal feeling, killed him all over again. However, he would suck it up to if it meant bringing a smile back to that gorgeous face of hers.

He’s a sucker for her, but at least he knows it. Jason might not be able to admit it in words, but he did his best to relay it through actions.

When I’m watching you watch him

“That woman was right, I’m just not worth it,” She whispered through hiccups.

Jason’s eyes shot down to her in utter shock, his grip involuntary tightening on her frame, causing her to let out a small squeak.

What did that filthy pig say to his angel? That gold digger didn’t have a clue what the word meant. Oh, Dick was in for it the next time he came around.

“I don’t know what upsets me more,” Jason muttered gently, “the fact that she said that or the fact that you actually believe that bitch.”

Clearly his statement caught her attention. Glossy eyes pooling with salty tears threatening to spill over peered into his own.

Fuck it, he thought, its now or never.

Taking a deep breath, exhaling hot air through his nose, he threw everything worry and doubt out the window and took his chances.

No matter how many times she tried to wipe her tears, they just kept coming as he spilled out all his thoughts about her. Telling her just how priceless she was to him. Jason made sure not to skip out on even the slightest of detail. His walls shattered, heart lying bare and utterly vulnerable before her. He, himself, couldn’t help but let a couple tears cascade down.

Taking her other dry sleeve she brought it to his face, gently wiping the water droplets away as they fell. All this time she has been looking at the wrong man. Listening as Jason’s walls shattered rekindled those mushy feelings she had for him back before his Robin days. Back during the times when they could care less about the world as they fought the harsh world side by side.

Those feelings she pushed down when he came back guns blazing. When he disregarded everything he once had, putting all his pain into the bullets in the barrels of his guns. Though she never gave up on him, it was hard for her. All he did back then was push her away, giving her the cold shoulder time after time again. Though all her efforts were kicked to the side and stomped on at the time.

Dick was the only one to comfort her back then. Maybe it was the comfort and reassurance that drew her to him all those times, but what does it matter anymore.

When I’m watching you watch him

Little did they know the two nosey pairs of eyes watching them through the window from a roof a couple buildings over. Binoculars peered into the living room where Jason and (y/n) rocked back and forth on their feet in each other's embrace.

Smack!

Both Red Robin and Robin let of a high pitched yelp as the binoculars were swiped from their faces. They stared at each other with wide eyes of surprise, a heavy grunt brought them from their daze. Neither one of them wanted to look behind, acting like toddlers being caught doing something they knew they weren’t supposed to.

To giant gloved hands extended palms up in front of their faces, a wordless demand to hand over the devices. Of course they did as they were told, but not without complaining and throwing a couple jabs at one another. The boys headed in the opposite direction to patrol the remainder of the city.

Once they were out of sight, Batman put the binoculars to his eyes. A rare smile graced his rough feature at the sight of the two. Hooking the lenses to his belt he went after the bickering boys.

It was a start. It was their start. The start of something beautiful in the years to come.

When I’m watching you watch him

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #red hood x reader #dc #batfam x reader

65 notes · View notes

soukokuwu · 4 years

Note

i live for aku angst. could you please write a scenario where he develops feelings for a fem reader during the dark era, but watches as her & dazai fall in love together? he wouldn’t be able to do anything since he’s dazai’s subordinate. but imagine them having a significant friend (ish) relationship, so when she disappears along with dazai he gets left utterly heartbroken and alone, wishing he would have said something to her when she was still with him. thank you! i love your writing

➥ genre: angst

➥ pairing: akutagawa x crush!reader, dazai x reader

➥ synopsis: akutagawa watches as you fall in love... but not with him.

➥ word count: 2k

➥ a/n: and i live for angst 😼 i really really loved this idea & i really hope you’re still here — tried a certain theme for this, hopefully you like it!! and tysm kind anony ^.^

Black and blue

You came out of the blue.

In the form of medicine for his wounds, and a cure for his aches. You were his superior, but you were unlike a certain other superior he knew. You radiated warmth and comfort — something Akutagawa didn’t know he craved. And yet you managed to instil that feeling in him within a matter of seconds.

“Dazai did this to you again?”

What was that he heard in your voice? Was it pain? Disapproval? Sadness, maybe? He was too detached from any emotion to be able to tell. Everything he knew, he learned from Dazai himself. All he wanted was the man’s approval. That was all he worked for. But you ignited a conflict in Akutagawa that he didn’t bargain for. One that he didn’t know would lead to fireworks instead of just a single spark.

“Yes,” was all he said. Was there any other way to respond? This was the first time you spoke to him, was he supposed to continue the conversation? A part of him wanted to. This was the only time a superior has shown any sort of care to him after all. So why couldn’t he get anything out?

You pressed your lips into a firm line, and he couldn’t help but notice how soft and pink they looked. You didn’t wear a lot of makeup, and his opinion was that you didn’t need it anyway. You already looked... pleasing enough to the eyes. Was that how people described someone they found... good-looking?

Endless questions darted across Akutagawa’s mind that day. But none were answered. Because how could they be, when the one questioning didn’t have the guts to say a thing in the first place?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Akutagawa knew.

He knew you didn’t mean to. But you did it anyway. He knew why, too. Because he let you. And just like that, his walls came down. No, they didn’t crumble — he wouldn’t let them fall that easily, but still you were the only one who could take the bricks out piece by piece until the barrier was almost nonexistent.

It was like demolishing a house and rebuilding it again — just better, stronger. You painted over his grey with your red. It was your favourite color, and fitting enough; it was the color of his feelings for you.

Since that day you were always there for him. You had your own tasks, sure, but you always looked out for him when you could. And he found that days when you were especially busy were the days he felt most blue. Akutagawa found it strange though — why did you care? What did you have to gain?

And he found the answer one night, a conversation with you by the bay. You had invited him to take a walk with you, to get some proper fresh air and let off steam. But Akutagawa had read way too much into it, that he knew. Why else would he feel disappointed that there wasn’t so much as any physical contact with you? He merely stayed at a distance as he always did, and you never tried.

One fruit bore out of that night though. He learned more about you than he thought he would. You were much like him; joining the mafia because you had nowhere else, you accepted an invitation from a senior in the mafia, wanting to prove that you weren’t worthless, that you could produce something of value to someone. No wonder you looked out for him. You saw a part of yourself in him, didn’t you? You knew how lonely it felt. That night, Akutagawa felt something he never thought he would — a sense of belonging.

The longer you spoke to him that night, the larger that feeling grew. And somehow he looked at you in a way he didn’t before. It confused him, disgusted him. No, correction — he disgusted himself. Not his affection for you. Why did he feel like pursuing this; you? That night, he denied himself the chance to let you in on his feelings.

A useless kid like him doesn’t deserve you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke was a black sheep. But you were the golden girl.

Should he be surprised then? As he watched the way his mentor interacted with you, should he be worried? No, did he even have the right to be? But then he saw him smile at you, a smile he’d only seen formed when he was around that other guy — Oda Sakunosuke. You were... another exception? Yet again, many questions raced through his head. But one thing he knew for sure — he was turning into the green-eyed monster.

He started to notice how you reacted to Dazai. He hated how you always seemed so mesmerised whenever he walked by. He hated how your eyes twinkled whenever you talked to him — where’s that sparkle in your eye when you talked to Akutagawa? He hated how one day you just showed up with Dazai’s coat wrapped around your shoulders. He hated how much he was affected by it. It really wasn’t unexpected — next to Dazai, who would take a second look at him anyway? He wished he could be him. Then maybe you’d... He shook his head. No, maybe not even then.

What he hated the most? He couldn’t even hate the guy. He yearned for Dazai’s respect; approval, and that never changed. But then the upset dissolved into an understanding. Something in his head clicked. You belonged with Dazai. He knew next to nothing about your relationship and how it worked. But what Akutagawa did know? Dazai was a revered member of the Port Mafia, one likely to take Mori’s place as the big boss in the future. He couldn’t even lay a hit on him with Rashomon. Dazai wasn’t a formidable fighter like Chuuya either, and still he managed to beat Akutagawa into the ground. That man... was exceptional. You deserved that. You deserved the best.

That’s what Dazai was. He was the black that would take no other hue, and fittingly so he was the Port Mafia’s great white hope.

“Devour space? That sounds cool,” you had commented one day while bandaging up the cut on his wrist, one inflicted on by Dazai himself. He noticed how you didn’t comment on his barbarism as you usually would, and the usual concern in your tone never appeared. As it never did ever since the first day he saw you talk to Dazai.

“I still can’t do it.”

“If you try to imagine you’re protecting me, could you?”

You see, Akutagawa knew it was just a joke to you. And yet? His heart started pounding so fast, so loud in his chest the moment he heard it. It was a tiring dance — feeling so happy about a tiny comment and then feeling a heartache after realising your smiles, even then, were never as sweet as the ones you flashed at Dazai.

Did Dazai even love you? Or was he playing some sort of game as he usually does with women? He hated how he was praying for the latter. Hated how he wished that things would crumble for the two of you so that he could be the one to help you pick up the pieces — to be the one. Akutagawa sighed, knowing he could never get inside his head. Anyone who tried would fall into a cognitive prison. But even these selfish thoughts couldn’t last long, because Akutagawa got his answer later that day when he overheard his mentor talking to his friend.

“Odasaku, how vulnerable can humans get?”

Akutagawa is shocked at the depth of the conversation. He didn’t know Dazai was capable of talking about... emotions. He didn’t think he had any. The other man mentioned something about it being to a big extent, Akutagawa let it slip past his ears. He was more interested in what Dazai had to say.

“It’s weird. It’s like finally being seen after having lived in perpetual darkness. The light she holds, it’s small... but is it wrong of me to hope that it will grow with time?”

Was that... hope he heard in his mentor’s voice? ‘With time’? That meant the future... for all his suicidal thoughts, because of you, was Dazai really considering living? Akutagawa sighed in exasperation as he quietly walked away from the spot he eavesdropped from. He would never understand Dazai.

He never did. Especially not when the same Dazai who spoke so fondly of you was the same Dazai who shot three bullets at Akutagawa for killing the enemy. You were a saviour in more than one way. Your words echoed in his mind, and his shield came out of his will to protect you, an imaginary you. That’s why Dazai didn’t manage to shoot him dead this time. Because of you.

“Oh? See? You can do it. How many times have I told you? Cutting open unfortunate hostages isn’t the only thing you’re good for. You should be able to use your powers for defense too.”

“I’ve never been able to successfully do that before this.”

“But you just did. Isn’t that great?”

Akutagawa wanted so badly to argue back in an act of rebellion, to yell out that it was only because of you that he was able to do it. But the words got stuck in his throat. And Dazai’s threat embedded themselves in his brain. He always wondered if Dazai knew his subordinate harboured feelings for his partner. But Akutagawa already knew the answer. Nothing escapes that man. But he’s sure that he doesn’t view him as a threat, not even as competition, no.

To Dazai, it was probably just another reason to hate him; another reason to justify why he was in Dazai’s black books.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was a complete bolt from the blue.

Akutagawa remembered the day he realised he had lost two important people in his life. He thought that watching as you fell in love with Dazai was the most horrible emotion he could feel. He was wrong. Losing the two of you, not even being able to see either of you, not knowing where either of you vanished to — nothing could top that agony.

The day Oda died, the two of you disappeared along with him.

You took down his walls, painted the insides red, furnished it and made it vibrant again and then suddenly you were gone. You left him in the dark. You invaded his solitary space — slowly, ironically without any violence, and yet the moment you left, it was anything but peaceful for Akutagawa. No, you and Dazai left him even lonelier than before. You graced him with your presence and healed him, only to break him down even more than he already was before he met you.

Everything he heard about love after you left just seemed like everyone viewed the world through rose-coloured glasses. Nothing he found could describe the anguish he felt over losing you; or the regret he held for not telling you how he felt — the remorse that he knew wouldn’t change a thing, and yet wished he did anyway.

Because who knew when he would ever see you again, if he would? What if he never did? Yet ironically, your memory is always there — you’re sitting at the edge of his periphery, taunting him with your smile, tempting him to go and find you. And Akutagawa thinks of it everyday; what it would be like to find you, to hold you, to tell you everything he should have when you were still there.

However, a part of him nags at him not to. After all, the grass is always greener on the other side — maybe because Akutagawa isn’t there. And as an image of you flashed in his mind yet again, he scoffed at himself.

Beautiful. That’s the word he was looking for that first day you touched his soul.

You’re beautiful.

tags: @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes

207 notes · View notes

dolanserotica · 4 years

Note

I’ve got another request🥰.. but it’s dirty 😖 anyway what if Grayson and his girl are watching tv and his hand rests on her stomach and she’s all like oh that’s so cute and shit, but then he starts fingering her out of nowhere and she cums really hard ...tea

(i'm doing bff!gray because i feel like it'll be more interesting that way.)

a movie night with a bowl of popcorn to your right, and your best friend on your left. what more could you need?

you couldn't exactly recall the name of the movie. it was a newer one, though—one that was fresh out of theatres. it was funny and had already made you and grayson break into small spurts of laughter.

it was nice to watch a comedy for once. the mood was much different in contrast to when you'd watch a horror movie together: you tucked under his arm, bunching up the soft material of his sweatshirt when you'd hide your face from the television screen. indefinitely, you'd end up closer to him by the end of the movie than what you anticipated in the beginning.

not that he minded, not in the slightest. he would have you even closer if you would let him.

but the mood was light. grayson had just let out a little breath of a amusement through his nose at a scene that was playing. you hadn't caught what was so funny, your attention constantly focusing back on his hand that was draped lazily over your stomach.

the tiny gesture made your heart flutter and your stomach tingle, loving the sensation of his palm flattened against your stomach. it was such a small gesture, yet it made you so happy.

your heart seemed to race more when his pinky started to move slowly from side to side over the thin fabric of your shirt. it's not like anything out of the usual for him to be affectionate like this, considering how long you'd been friends, but something about the way his body was snuggled right up next to you just put you in such a soft mood.

that was until it started to feel like his pinky was inching south. it was so subtle, you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't watching his hand intently with awe. were you seeing things? feeling things?

your feelings towards gray had always been teetering on the edge of wanting to be something more than friends. but as all things typically go, you kept those feelings to a minimum for the sake of your friendship. you would rather torture yourself by only being friends than risk not being friends at all, even though something inside you told you that wouldn't be the case—especially considering that his pinky had in fact been moving downward.

his palm was resting over your bellybutton now, his fingertip at the hem of your pj shorts. it took your breath away, just by feeling the warmth of his hand radiate so close to your...

he slipped his pinky past the waistband, then slipped it back out, testing the boundaries. he was your best friend, yes, but something about this felt too right to stop now.

you seemed to have stopped breathing when he pushed his finger through the band again, but further this time. it would have been silly of him to think he was being discreet, he had to have known you'd noticed by now.

his head shifted on your shoulder so he could gaze up at you with his honey eyes that melted your heart from the beginning. it startled you really, to have his attention on you so suddenly. you slowly did the same thing, tilting your chin to look at him. you must have been blushing, feeling heat spread through your cheekbones.

“is this okay?" he murmured softly, his hand still dangerously close to your panties.

finding it hard to compile words, you simply nodded quickly. eagerly.

his eyes never left yours, constantly searching for any sort of hesitation when he moved his hand deeper into your shorts until he was cupping your mound through your thin, silky underwear.

at that moment he would have given anything just to see you in whatever underwear he was only blindly feeling with his fingertips. when he was toying with the flimsy fabric, his middle finger slid over the wet patch that had started to form.

his breath caught, mind whirling at a million miles an hour. he was so nervous about this, worried you were going to be turned off by him—and frankly, he also was thinking the same thing as you.

don't fuck up the friendship.

he certainly didn't expect you to be this wet. it relaxed his nerves a bit, and with that same finger he began searching for that little bundle hiding beneath your panties.

you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding when he pressed down on your clit lightly.

"and this?" he asked even softer, his voice quiet, face tilted back down so he could focus more on where his hand was moving.

a tiny hum vibrated behind your lips, and it sounded more like a whimper than you would have wanted it to. grayson let out another amused breath through his nose, his other arm looping around your lower back so he could attach his large hand to your hip and keep you close.

it went on like that for a few agonizing moments, his middle finger only gently prodding at your clit, rubbing in slow circles that drove you absolutely mad. you could have came simply from the pads of his fingers, and with the way your breath had grown shallow and you were subconsciously rolling your hips to chase his touch, he knew it too.

he paused, hearing you sigh in disappointment but knowing it better he give you some time to cool down.

"g-gray," you whine so quietly it was hardly a whisper.

his ears pricked at hearing his name slip from your mouth in such a needy manner, his pants only getting tighter.

squishing his thighs together, he hushed you by using his middle finger to pull your soaked panties to the side and finally give you what you wanted. not without a little teasing, however.

your body jolted slightly when a cold fingertip began moving—more like gliding along your folds due to how wet you were. him now touching at your naked cunt only forced more arousal out of you. grayson himself had to stifle a moan when he felt the stickiness coating his fingers without even having to dip them inside you.

he yearned so badly to hear that heavenly gushing noise of your pussy welcoming his fingers. not being able to take it any longer, he pressed a single digit through your entrance and you gasped, clinging to the side of his body.

a smirk tugged on the corners of his mouth at your reaction. he wanted to be as gentle as possible though, not wanting to ruin this moment in any way. reaching his finger inward slowly and curling it, his jaw clenched at feeling how tightly your walls hugged around his one finger.

he pulled his hand back before moving it forward again in a slow motion, just to get you nice and comfortable—and your unbelievably tight pussy stretched a bit.

you were beginning to grow impatient at his pace, wanting so much more of him. to subtly let him know that, you spread your knees a little wider and, wriggled in his hold.

grayson chuckled softly and looked up at you again. he flicked an eyebrow at you as if asking, you sure you can take it?

he was definitely gaining confidence at seeing just how much he had affected you with hardly doing anything at all. he couldn't lie, he was equally as turned-on, noting the dull throb in his pants.

if it was even possible, your body pressed even closer to his when he slipped a second finger in. at that point, it didn't matter if he was your best friend, you couldn't help but elicit an airy moan.

grayson soon grew addicted to the noises you were making, not wasting any time by adding a third and final finger, reaching up so deeply only his knuckles were visible.

"fuck!" you cried, head tilting back to rest against the couch cushion behind you.

he only grunted in response, his pace increasing rapidly. his fingertips grazed that special spot that you yourself had never been able to reach with your own tiny fingers.

he was determined to have you unraveling all over him, already sensing your build up due to the way you were clenching around him—pulsing.

soon enough your jaw was falling slack, eyes fluttering as the tight coil in your stomach snapped suddenly. your body went rigid, his arm only tightening around you.

his thumb rubbed in tight circles over your clit to prolong your climax and help you ride it out. and when you had finished with heavy breaths and shakey limbs, you both turned to eachother.

a smirk played on his features, and judging by the unusually large bulge he was packing, you knew you weren't quite done yet...

#im sorry this took so long #anon ask #graysondolan #anon

266 notes · View notes

captainxsassafras · 3 years

Text

Ok, I know it's an absolutely ridiculous scenario, but I think with Mirko it might actually work because she's bullheaded and aggressive enough to decide she knows better (not necessarily a criticism! 😚) BUT

I've just got it in my head that she's becoming fast friends with Keigo (I just love them as friends ok? I think they'd get up to all sorts of shenanigans and somehow manage to accidentally be heroic while going about it!). But what if you're also friends with her. Then you let her know you've been feeling kinda lonely lately. She decides this is your way of saying you need to get laid. Then she sees that Keigo is antsy or tired or touch-starved (we all know he is) or whatever, maybe she thinks he's feeling lonely too. And she decides that he needs to get laid too! Well, what do you know! She has two (2) friends who need to get laid! How perfect is that! Simple, she'll just introduce you (it does hurt that she realized you've got nice and complementary personalities and she thinks you two will just have a good time together!), leave you two alone, and BANG (literally)! Problem solved. You're less lonely (Mirko mind: less horny), Keigo's less... Whatever (Mirko mind: horny). Everyone can be more relaxed and less cranky or whatever AND two of her friends got a fun, pleasurable time out of it!

Things do not go as planned. When you said you were feeling lonely, you meant you'd were wanting intimacy and closeness, not necessarily a one night stand. Keigo had been feeling kinda horny lately (Ohohohohoh, but what if his rut is approaching, whole new layer of madness!), but more than that he's just feeling a bit restless and wanting to move around a lot (ok, fine, he doesn't realize it, but he is actually really touch-starved, so he's really just been aching for some good old fashioned affection, but he grew up emotionally repressed (i.e. the commission taught him to ignore desires for intimacy) so he doesn't even recognize his own system yearning for closeness).

AND when Mirko finally does introduce you two and just leaves you two alone at Keigo's apartment (I'm assuming it's bigger and generally a bit nicer things than yours), you just... Don't actually fuck. Especially because Mirko is very straightforward and basically said, ' Alright now go get laid. Have fun you two!' like the weird mom in Mean Girls. Now there's pressure! You can't fuck under that kind of pressure! (I mean, I'm sure you can, but if someone basically ordered me to go get laid, I'm pretty sure I'd take care of it myself just to spite them. 😜)

And you're like, "Sorry, homeboy. I just went along because Rumi said there was food. (Or whatever so your primary motivator.) I didn't really come here to fuck."

And Keigo's is like, "You know, I'm actually not in the mood to fuck a stranger, as cute as you are. Wanna order some takeout and watch a movie?"

(These are obviously ad-libbed, I'm just getting ideas out!)

So the two of you end up cuddling on the couch and you both sate your intense desire to snuggle and be close to someone, but.... It just doesn't stop there? You keep in contact and end up cuddling together very often. And obviously you both find each other attractive (because while I'm a cuddly ho, I'm also a horny one). But you both love snuggling together you don't really want to cross that boundary in case the other doesn't feel the same way. And you become good friends, but MOTHERFUCKING HELL the sexual tension is killing the two of you! But neither wants to break it!

And now Rumi is even more irritated than before because the two of you are even more cranky than before (but also weirdly happy. It's like a horny, cranky happiness because you two enjoy each others' company, but really wanna fuck???), but you won't fuck (she can tell. She may be straightforward and direct, but she can pick up on those subtleties (read: you two are NOT subtle, you're just very dense when it comes to the others' feelings)). And finally, she barges in on the two of you cuddling and just straight up asks, the two of you still entwined so closely that anyone watching would have sworn you were getting sexy, "Hawks, do you want to fuck y/n?" And he isn't ready for it and fidgets and deflects until Rumi is ready to strangle him. And finally he mumbles out, "Yeah."

"How much?"

"What?"

"How badly do you want to fuck them? How long have you wanted to fuck them? How fucking horny are you for them? Give them details! They need to know how you feel, you dumbass!"

And he breaks like a dam! It all spills out. How absolutely fucking horny he is for you all the time. How he has to be so careful when he's cuddling you or you'll get a ride straight to cuddly bonertown. How he can't stop thinking about you. How badly he wants to rail you into the mattress. How much he wants to snugglefuck you to pieces. How he wants to fuck you on every single surface of this apartment, the fuck you again in the bathtub while you're relaxing afterward. And if you're really lucky, he even let's slip how he touches himself (probs like every night if not more) to thoughts of you (very bashful and quiet, because he doesn't want you to think he's a creep).

(Rumi left a long time ago because she's not about to be in the middle of what comes next. She's knows you feel the exact same way.)

And then Hawks runs out of things to say. He's told you everything and you've been quiet (and of course you two are still tangled up together from snuggle time) watching him with rapt attention because dammit you are so fucking elated he wants to fuck you as badly as you want to fuck him, but you also want to keep listening to him because it just keeps adding on to the ecstasy of mutual desire!

And then, feeling nervous cause you haven't said anything, he shifts and you feel it. That beautiful boner saying hello to you right after he'd confessed that he wanted to make wild, wild love to you.

And then, you're pulling him close and kissing him as eagerly as he is you and in between kisses you're murmuring out how badly you've wanted to fuck him for ages, but how you wanted to be friends, but maybe you wanted to date him to, but you were also really really horny and it's so hot that he gets boners fr snuggling you. And he's laughing delightedly and telling you he gets boners from more than cuddling you. It's pretty much everything about you.

Naturally, the two of you go wild and make love everywhere, everywhen, and in as many different positions as you can imagine (and when you run out there's always google).

And Rumi now thinks she's a matchmaking goddess and uses this newfound power to wreak havoc with the lives of her fellow pros!

(Bonus points: she's actually surprisingly good at it?)

(Extra bonus points: if Keigo was close to his rut and that's why he felt antsy before, I can only say with the fullest confidence, that the lustful happiness of finding out you both were in delightfully horny love with each other would 100% send him dick-first in an early rut and that's a whole 'nother story.)

And of course, you and Keigo live happily ever after in horny, snuggly, sexy bliss.

@queensynderella @heyitswhiplash @lovekeigo @keilemlucent @mindninjax I feel like this is an idea y'all could get behind! 😘

27 notes · View notes

chamyl · 5 years

Text

Good Omens fic recs, part two

Find part one here!

All are completed. Sorted by rating and then by length, NSFW ones under the cut.

Entwined in Every Step I Take by Ghostinthehouse Gen, 1842 words "You do know," he said after a long moment, "that angels can sense love, don't you?" "Going to smite me down for it, angel?" "I think you're quite smitten enough, without adding to it."

Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm Gen, 99421 words As soon as Aubrey Thyme, psychotherapist, had opened her office door and seen her new client, Anthony J. Crowley, sitting in her waiting area, she was observing and assessing him. At first glance, she paid attention to the following: --His clothing was expensive and stylish; --He wore very strange but noticeable cologne; --His relationship to the seat he occupied could only, very loosely, be described as “sitting;” --He looked angry; --He was wearing sunglasses. What Aubrey Thyme, a professional, thought, upon first seeing her new client was: you’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?

Too Generous by rfsmiley Teen and up, 1501 words “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.” Or: what happened after the [ we all got hit by a ] bus scene (aka "you could stay at my place, if you like")....

Birds of a Feather by idiopathicsmile Teen and up, 3608 words “Isn’t this nice?” says Aziraphale with badly feigned casualness the next time Crowley stops by for a late night drink. Crowley is all set to reply, words lined up in his mouth waiting to go, when Aziraphale adds, “I mean, all of the books and furniture and bottles of wine and things?” Aziraphale nests. Crowley relearns some crucial facts about angelic courtship rituals.

forgotten (but not gone) by writeonclara Teen and up, 9541 words “Angel,” this demon accuses, somehow managing to hiss the word despite the lack of sibilant letters. Aziraphale tips his chin up, wondering why his heart had stumbled strangely at the title. It’s what he is, and has been so for millennia. Coming from this demon, though, it has the feeling of—of an endearment, somehow, which is just foolish beyond all words. “Serpent,” is what his mouth says, but then his teeth click shut around the word. The demon’s eyes widen. “You know me then?” Aziraphale shakes his head.

Dearly Departed by attheborder Teen and up, 29774 words Finally, Aziraphale spoke. “You mean to say— you got us married?” “Just as a precaution, I never really thought I’d end up discorporated again, it’d been ages, you just don’t get stampedes or assassinations like you used to —” “You got us married, and you didn’t tell me?” *** Crowley gets inconveniently discorporated. And it’s not like it’s ever been easy to get a new body, but this time around, things really aren’t looking good. His new innuendo-obsessed lust-demon of a coworker honestly isn’t helping things. Meanwhile, Aziraphale has a dead body to contend with, and an occult mortician & his very normal daughter to fend off. What lengths will he go to in order to get Crowley back to Earth?

Pray For Us, Icarus by Atalan Teen and up, 65836 words For three centuries, Crowley has been reincarnated over and over as a human with no memory of his past. Aziraphale has tried to find a way to restore him to his true self, but all he seems to do is hurt them both. This time, he only means to steal a brief moment when he walks into Crowley's flower shop. But Crowley can't let it go...

Four-Letter Words by idiopathicsmile Mature, 3081 words Prompt: "humiliation kink by way of compliment, Aziraphale gets Crowley hot and bothered by accusing him of goodness." It’s a chilly day in November of 1987, and Aziraphale badly wants a drink.

These Captive Stars by darlingred1 Explicit, 6433 words Over the centuries Aziraphale learned many things about the human form, as well as his own, and among his lessons was this: most humans do not have thighs so exquisitely sensitive as his. (Aziraphale has very sensitive inner thighs. Crowley finds out, and things get smutty but also incredibly sappy.)

Consecrated ground by equestrianstatue Explicit, 8263 words Aziraphale’s mouth burned. But not like hellfire burned, cruel and destructive, sizzling a hole through whatever it touched. This was that same terrible charge of ethereal electricity, conducted in the very fluid of Aziraphale’s being. Something that had seemed so outside of him, something of heaven, something that wasn’t part of the Aziraphale who had lived six thousand years here with Crowley on Earth, careful and petty and kind. And yet here heaven had been, all this time, just past his lips.

Yield Under Pressure by writeonclara Explicit, 9934 words Aziraphale’s eyes crack back to him, like a pistol whip. The fixed look enters his gaze again. Crowley stares flatly back. He’s been an apex predator for far longer than Aziraphale ever has. But then Aziraphale wrenches his eyes away and roughly shakes his head. “I really don’t. I—that is to say—she—” “Who?” Crowley demands furiously. “Michael? Beezlebub?” “Second.” Anger bubbles up in Crowley’s chest, but he tamps it down. It can wait. “What did she do?” “I don’t know, Crowley!” It’s almost like their normal bickering, except Aziraphale is shaking so hard that Crowley can hear his wings rustle. “She said—she—” He squeezes his eyes shut. “‘Fall, or die. The choice is yours’.” OR: Aziraphale is hit with sex pollen. Crowley helps him through it.

a soft place to land by PaintedVanilla Explicit, 10005 words Crowley isn't sure how to ask for something when he doesn’t even know what it is that he wants. [My notes: this one has a special place in my ❤️]

To Give and To Receive by TheGypsyQueen Explicit, 10397 Or: Is That Really All It Took? Crowley likes to give Aziraphale things. Food, drinks, rides, whatever, it doesn't matter. It's all worth the praise and the gratitude and those glowing angelic smiles. He cannot imagine that Aziraphale would want to return the favor, and doesn't think he should. Aziraphale disagrees with that sentiment.

A Kiss Is Just A Kiss by juliet & laurashapiro Explicit, 10522 words “The rules are: apart from kissing, you don’t touch me, I don’t touch you. For the next two days.”

End with Hope by PepperPrints Explicit, 15888 words In 537 A.D., the Black Knight enters King Arthur's Tournament of Champions, with quite disastrous consequences, and Sir Aziraphale of the Round Table takes it upon himself to intervene -- which, naturally, also turns out to be quite disastrous in itself. [My notes: one of my favourites EVER. How I want to write? Like this like this like this]

One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) by Atalan Explicit, 17381 words "All right, I know I'm going to regret asking this," Aziraphale says. "What exactly does this wager entail?" Crowley grins like the cat that not only got the cream but has absconded with the entire cow. He grabs the bottle and swigs straight from it despite Aziraphale's tut of disapproval. "The pot goes to whichever demon can get an angel into bed by the end of the evening." AKA The Fic That Tumblr Made Me Write. Heaven and Hell share a corporate party once per millennium. This time someone's had the bright idea of issuing a challenge to the demons of Hell. Crowley has no intention of missing the opportunity; Aziraphale's just enough of a bastard to make him work for it. [My notes: this has been rec'd all over tumblr already, but hey. with good reason]

For the Longest Time by darlingred1 Explicit, 20370 words “You…” Aziraphale sounded baffled, and suddenly quite sober. “You liked that? But, my dear, you said it was torturous. ‘Six thousand years of torture,’ as I recall.” “Yeah. Yeah, but the anticipation, and the yearning, and…and how every moment with you was so maddeningly intense, and…” And what else could Crowley say? How could he expect Aziraphale to understand that after six thousand years of torture he’d actually got a bit used to it? That he’d felt like a band strained further and further, and now he found himself permanently stretched, flopping about with too much slack and no way to hold on to what he’d been reaching towards for so long? (Crowley kind of misses the pining when it's gone. Aziraphale comes up with a solution.) [My notes: AKA 'that 20k edging fic']

#good omens #otp: ineffable #ineffable husbands #good omens fic recs #honestly i make these lists because I get a chance to reread all my favourite fics lmfao #I still hate tumblr formatting tho

880 notes · View notes

impalementation · 4 years

Note

so i just finished rhonda wilcox's essay on hush, and she comments that - much like angel the episode predicts what will happen to buffy and angel - hush predicts that riley will go on to rip buffy's heart out by becoming part of a patriarchal institution (wilcox does a lot of work establishing what the gentlemen represent and focuses on the moment in buffy's dream where riley turns into one of them). (1/2)

(2/2) so my question for you is do you see that any one episode cleanly predicts the path spike and buffy eventually go down together? and if there isn't, how does that deviation from the pattern affect the reading of the spuffy dynamic, if it does at all?

hmm, really interesting question. sorry it took me a while to answer! the thing about the spike/buffy dynamic is that we know a lot of it wasn’t planned out. i don’t have links to interviews at the tip of my fingers, but it’s something i’ve seen mentioned multiple times. that they didn’t know that spike would fall in love with buffy until starting season five, but that it was like they’d been writing to it all along. which means that we’d need to look to season five to find a thesis statement episode for the relationship. in which case, as obvious as it might sound, i think the episode we’re looking for is fool for love.

here’s why. i’ve talked about the spike/buffy storyline as being about both boundaries and the id before. but actually perhaps the more obvious thing to say their relationship is about, is power dynamics. and what power dynamics mean for love. and fool for love is all over that.

first, what fool for love does is it establishes spike as someone who wants two different things. he wants power and confidence, and he wants to be loved. when he becomes a vampire, he is able to find that power and confidence through violence. instead of caring about the opinions of his peers, he puts railroad spikes through their heads (or is implied to, anyway). his relationship to love and women is also all wrapped up in violence. heartbreak leads directly to him becoming a vampire, and therefore a soulless killer. drusilla turns him (a violent act), delights in his violence, and sexually responds to him killing the chinese slayer. more importantly, i don’t think you can or should get away from the imagery of slayer-killing as well, the violent conquest of powerful women. i see people claim that if slayers were men, then spike would be just as obsessed with killing them, that he just loves violence for the sake of violence. but whether or not that claim is accurate, i think it misses the fact that this is buffy, in which so much of the horror is various, more or less supernatural, versions of violent misogyny. so while i agree that spike is a person who takes glee in destruction of all kinds—his love of killing demons, “a little violence before bed time”, etc—and is not specifically obsessed with destroying women for being women the way, say, the trio (or ted, or pete, or etc) are…he does, nonetheless, relate to women in ways that we are meant to see as bitter and resentful or otherwise messed-up. his treatment of harmony, his frustration at dru leaving him, and of course everything in crush. that’s sort of the contradiction of him. he genuinely loves women, and makes himself abject to them and to the act of loving, but he also genuinely has a messed-up relationship to all of that. in other words, whether or not spike at all cares about killing slayers because they’re women, it still matters, in terms of symbolism, that he is a man killing women. his relationship to killing slayers is undeniably sexually coded, too. everything from his innuendo and sexually loaded gazing in school hard, to him asking nikki if “this is good for [her]”, to him asking buffy if she’ll “like it as much as [nikki] did.”

with that in mind, i would say that the problem the show is trying to have spike resolve, and the reason that he’s the id of the later seasons, is that he has this sincere desire to love and be loved, as well as to generally be confident and appreciated, but the only tool he has—especially when it comes to slayers—is violence. ie, acts of domination and power. or at least, violence is the only tool that’s ever rewarded him. he was a doting caretaker to drusilla, yes, but he only got drusilla in the first place by becoming a murderous creature. and later lost her by “going soft.” killing a slayer made drusilla sleep with him, while helping a slayer made her leave him. so in total, you have this character with all of these very human yearnings, but who has them repeatedly frustrated, and so tries to fulfill them through monstrous, vampiric behavior—through acts of power. his instinct when he is in love is to be a doting, romantic lover, but his instinct with slayers is to kill them. so by loving buffy he is made to confront the contradictions in his attitudes towards women, love, and power.

one of the fundamental questions of buffy is “how do you act when you feel like you have no control?” and in fool for love, both buffy and spike are feeling out of control. buffy feels out of control of her mortality, and later out of control of her mother’s mortality. meanwhile spike feels out of control of his deviant feelings for a good person that he cannot have. both characters have a tendency to assert control through violence, which is one of the reasons that spike is such a good id for buffy. buffy is used to protecting herself and the people she loves by physically fighting things, and struggles every time that’s not an option (but also struggles with what she thinks it says about her, that she is so intimate with violence). so in fool for love she goes to spike hoping that he’ll give her some sort of violence-related answer to her problem. she wants to know how he killed the other slayers, so that she can physically protect herself. moreover, she repeatedly manhandles him to get that information. meanwhile spike tries to seductively intimidate her, playing up his physical dangerousness, and ends up offering her a violence-related answer that she realizes she doesn’t actually want: him killing her. except that answer is as much about him as her. spike doesn’t really want to kill buffy, he wants to kiss her (or to be fair, let’s say he at least wants both), but when it comes to interacting with slayers, all he has is that language and mindset of violent conquest. so spike tries to assert control over buffy (“you know you want to dance”) and buffy responds by asserting control right back (“you’re beneath me”). she wins the contest of wills, and establishes herself as the person with more power in their dynamic. for all spike’s posturing all evening, buffy ultimately stands over him, dismissively tossing cash at him.

but the episode does not finish on that note. instead, it finishes with buffy feeling powerless yet again in the face of her mother’s sickness. spike goes to buffy, standing over her with a gun, intending to reclaim his power in the way he knows best: killing a slayer. but ends up as powerless in the face of his emotions as ever. instead of ending on an unbalanced power dynamic, the episode ends with buffy and spike on the same level, equally bowed by the weight of the feelings that they can’t control. neither standing over the other. neither asserting power over the other.

all of which is, in my opinion, their entire arc in microcosm. their story is the story of two people who struggle to relate to each other in a way that isn’t fraught with issues of power, especially sexual, gendered power. and who eventually, with up and downs, succeed. over the course of season five, spike lets go of more and more of his control. in crush, he’s tempted to return to his vampiric ways—keep in mind that for spike vampirism is associated with empowerment—and tries to literally shackle up the women he loves. which ends badly. in intervention he tries to cheat by only controlling a fake version of buffy. but that ends badly too. it’s only when he gives up control in the gift and doesn’t try to get in buffy’s house, that buffy begins the process of equalization by letting him in. using fool for love as a model, you might say that spike spends the season learning over and over how to set down his gun, to let go of the idea of an upper hand, and respond with his more humane and caring half.

but their dynamic is still very uneven. spike letting go of his power is not the same as them being equal. and season six digs into why that’s a problem if two people are involved. if fool for love is the spike/buffy arc in microcosm, then i would say that the alley scene is their season six arc, and the porch scene is their season seven arc. in season six, both spike and buffy feel out of control the way they felt in fool for love, and try to regain that control by playing violent power games with each other. even if it’s not what they actually want. spike’s intimidation/seduction during the alley scene reminds me a lot of his attempts to keep buffy at his level during their sexual relationship, because he thinks he can’t have her otherwise. buffy having a death wish, buffy belonging in the dark, etc. the ambiguity about whether spike fully believes what he’s saying, and is trying—in his vampiric way—to be helpful, or whether he’s bullshitting, seems similar in both situations too. meanwhile buffy’s flustered violence towards him (slamming him against things, choking him), reminds me of her side of their sexual relationship. she feels freaked out about her mortality, just as she feels freaked out about her “deadness” in season six, and turns that into conflict with spike (note how in both instances spike is a figure of a death, and buffy is reckoning with death). the scene then ends, just as their season six relationship does, with spike pushing buffy because he thinks she feels something (“come on, i can feel it slayer”), and buffy decisively pushing him away. revealing to spike that he’s misread their interaction.

season seven then is about the mutual laying down of arms. if season six is about love as a power struggle, then season seven is about love in the absence of power struggles. the implication is that letting go of power struggles and uneven dynamics is necessary for genuine and healthy love to develop. i’m very interested in the choreography of buffy and spike’s scene in touched. spike starts out above her, standing while she sits on the bed. then he kneels so he’s below her. then they end up on the same level on the bed together. much as they ended up on the same level on the porch in fool for love. they are not trying to take power from each other. spike gives his power. and so she stops looking down on him, stops trying to keep him at a hierarchal distance, and invites him to her level.

(there’s a parallel there with smashed, too. both scenes take place in an abandoned house, but instead of crashing to the basement and missing any sort of bed, they are in an upper-level bedroom together. and the next day she returns home—ie, returns to herself—empowered, rather than bruised and ashamed. in other words, their interaction was an affirmation of self rather than a destruction of self. in a relationship that is a power struggle, people will end up dragging each other down to the basement, in a race to the bottom. whereas in a relationship that is not, people elevate each other.)

honestly, for all that i understand why people don’t like it, i do think it’s a pretty potent storyline for a season that claims it’s “about power,” but turns out to be about sharing power. the bait-and-switch of thinking that power is about violence and control, when it’s actually about generosity, is basically the whole spike and buffy dynamic. both spike and buffy often think that violence is the only way to solve their problems, but yearn for things that don’t involve violence in the slightest. so for them to finish the season and the show peaceably sleeping in each other’s arms, on the same level? it strikes me as a very coherent resolution of their arc as a whole.

so, there’s your answer. fool for love. i also think it’s telling that in fool for love spike noticeably supplants riley in importance, and occupies buffy’s attention. which predicts the fact that he will ultimately replace riley as a sexual/romantic interest.

#spike #buffy #s5 #s6 #s7

124 notes · View notes

youeggbastard · 4 years

Note

Can I get any/all of the General and Love questions for anyone you want 🥺🥺

Yes 🥺 Sorry for the long post

Original Format here for anyone that want’s to use it

Ellie and Kaidan

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

There wasn’t really one person who took the first step for them, it was more like. It was kind of a group effort, they were both in love with each other, they both knew it but they both knew that they weren’t exactly in the best position to have anything, so there was just a lot of longing stares and unsaid things between them for the longest time. So by the time they actually took the next step so to speak it kind of felt like they have already been with each other. If that makes sense.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

I mean, do you count clearing out caves of bandits or hunting dragons as first dates? Because I do and I consider the first time Ellie took Kai dragon hunting their first date. So there was a lot of cursing, a bit of fire, and all other fun things.

What was their first kiss like?

It was very sweet at first, I mentioned before that there was just a lot of unrequited feelings and yearning between them, so when they finally kissed it was like the dam broke free.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

Kai was Ellie’s first love and relationship, she’s had sex before and all that good stuff, but he was first person she ever fell in love with, and I guess I would say Ellie was Kai’s first good relationship that was actually built on love.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

I have no idea the actual height of Kaidan, but I’m assuming it’s in the 6 foot range, and since Ellie is only five foot there’s at least a foot of height difference between the two. As for age, I think someone claimed Kai is around 25 so there’s probably only a couple months to a year age difference between them.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

They’re both orphans, so they are each others family 🥺

Who takes the lead in social situations?

Both of them are pretty reclusive but I would say probably Ellie, she’s more approachable and a better people person at least.

Who gets jealous easier?

Ellieeeee, her jealousy is a weird kind of jealousy, it’s not that she doesn’t trust Kai. But she’s always struggled with self confidence issues and her self worth so it’s kind of hard to see someone flirting with Kai and not at least have that sliver of doubt or that moment of: he might be happier with that person because they aren’t a doom driver dragonborn werewolf combo. She’d never say any of this though.

Love

Who said “I love you” first?

It was kind of an unsaid thing between each other for the longest time, but I guess if we’re going on technical it was Kai.

What are their primary love languages?

Gift Giving and Acts of Service. Ellie gives him books with little notes she writes in them as well as cool rock she finds. Kaidan always makes sure she has food in her knapsack, her water pouch is full, etc etc.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

PDA is probably pretty rare between them it’s mostly all about the eye contact, but when they’re alone cuddling is an absolute must.

What are their favorite things to do together?

Adventuring, they have a home but I lowkey think the both of them are happiest when they’re wandering about Skyrim and further, sleeping under the stars, and getting up to all sorts of trouble.

Who’s better at comforting the other?

Kaidan, hands down. Ellie with all her sweetness is horrible at comforting other people, she just kind of stands there awkwardly, occasionally she’ll just try to feed you sweets? Luckily Kai knows that when she does that she’s trying her best.

Who’s more protective?

Funny enough, it’s actually Ellie, I think it’s mostly because of her beast blood and the wolf like tendency to protect your pack. She’s not possessive she’s just a bit on the protective side, but she’s like that with all of her friends.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Physical, but only when they’re alone. Luckily the two of them are secure enough in their relationship that they don’t have to constantly be touching or reciting poetry to one another to show that they love each other. They both already know.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

Am I using this a chance to show my Spotify playlist I made for them? Yesssss But i would say the best song with be “Would That I” By Hozier

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

We all know Kai’s wide variety of nicknames he has for the ldb, Ellie will usually stick to calling him by name or My Love if she’s feeling really special.

Kaidan & Jen

I Hope you don’t mind but I wanted to answer these additional ones for these guys too 🥺

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

(To the tune of Sk8er Boi) He a cultist, she was a vigilant can I make it anymore obvious?

What was their first impression of each other?

They tried to kill each other, and almost succeeded ❤

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

Nope, for obvious reasons.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

Romantic feelings don’t come until way, way down the line and then I think they both ended developing feelings around the same time, you know after they learn to trust each other and actually become friends. But it’s Kai who acknowledged his feelings first.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Oh yeeahhh, by the time they develop feelings it’s less about the fact they once tried to kill each other and more of their own personal issues. Kai thinks Jen couldn’t love him because of their past and is scared of what admitting that would do to their friendship they have now. Jen has essentially had her love used against her every time so when she falls in love with someone she just assumes she’s going to get hurt. Very badly.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

They would probably laugh in your face and then develop feelings later and be like “wait, shit no.”

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

Depends how you look at it, Kai was the first to confess his feelings and Jen didn’t take it well, it took her getting over herself for them to actually acknowledge their feelings and make something out of it. But it was Jen to first initiate they sleep together.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

I’m going to count Kai taking her to Shadowgreen Cavern as a first date, it was very sweet at first until Kai told her that he loved her.

What was their first kiss like?

There was a lot of unresolved tension, and unsaid feelings so it was a pretty passionate kiss. Both of them knowing that it was a lot more than just a kiss but both too scared to acknowledge that or what it would mean.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

I was about to say they were the first relationship where they haven't tried to kill each other, but even that’s not true. So Probably the first healthy relationship they have, if you ignore their rocky start, as well as first husband/wife.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

Jen is around 5′7, so Kai has a good couple inches on her. They’re the same age with Jen probably being a few months older.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Kai’s family is dead as we know, and Jen’s dad tried to sacrifice her so if I do end up bringing him back for conflict reasons, I can’t imagine the relationship would be very good.

Who takes the lead in social situations?

Normally Jen.

Who gets jealous easier?

Kaidan, Jen usually just finds the people that flirt with Kai funny and will sometimes join in just to get him flustered.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?

Kaidan, like I said Jen doesn’t take it well.

What are their primary love languages?

Primarily Acts of Service for both of them, Jen’s language of love is mostly gently mothering people until they get annoyed.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

Pretty Often actually, Jen is a very physical person, sometimes she just needs a reminder that she’s alive and that the other is alive so touching reminds her of that. It was a bit of a culture shock for Kai who, at least I think, is extremely touch starved.

What are their favorite things to do together?

Both of them are content doing their own thing but in the same vicinity. Jen gardening while Kai reads in the garden, that sort of thing.

Who’s better at comforting the other?

They are both good at comforting, though Kai maybe just a bit more because Jen can be a bit much.

Who’s more protective?

Kaidan, he wishes he didn’t have to be but honestly it’s Jen fault for Never wearing armor and always charging into battle without thinking.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Like I said, Jen is a very physical person, but she always goes out of her way to remind Kai that she loves him after learning he probably hasn’t heard those three words that often in his life. I think Kai relies more on being physical with his affection, than verbal, I imagine he feels like his words won’t do how much he loves her justice.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

Time for me to shamelessly put ANOTHER playlist I made for this specific couple But I’ve been wibing with the song “War Of Hearts” by Ruelle being their anthem or “Hate Me” by Eurielle

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

The thought of Jen calling anyone “My darling” or “My dear” get’s me feeling things.

#asks #Oc: Eleanor #oc: iphigenia #Jen x Kaidan #Ellie x Kaidan #Kaidan skyrim #my oc

9 notes · View notes

agent-cupcake · 4 years

Text

Beastie and the Bard

Fire Emblem Three Houses - Dimitri x Reader (Chapter 3)

A symphony has four parts so does this, but it’s split because I’m lazy and didn’t anticipate the minuet to give me so much grief. Sorry for the wait, life is a lot all the time all at once, you know?

Symphony Vittoria Opus 3, No. 1 I. Allegro A whooping shout echoed across the canyon, catching like fire upon a pile of dry leaves as the joyous sound spread across the triumphant troops. The bandit chef had fallen to Professor Byleth’s blade. The Blue Lions had won the battle of Zanado.

You felt dizzy, mentally dampened, and a bit confused at first.

“We won?” you asked nobody in particular, voice raised above the din of a few dozen voices talking at once. The man closest to you was smiling, nodding, speaking. You were slow in catching up, but you managed to make out his answer after a moment of focusing. Won, you had won. And then your ears were filled with the deafening sound of relentless noise and rushing blood, a roar of excitement that grew from within your own self.

You had won!

It didn’t happen in a steady turn, but in a sudden, jolting twist as all your focus and combat oriented energy changed to a joy for victory. It made you giddy, practically drunk on jubilance as the tension left your frame. Your head spun with a tipsy sensation of dizziness, a disconnect between mind and body. Some of it must have been the fatigue casting a haze over your mind as you emerged from the focused state of fighting. Past the overwhelming joy, you were aware that exhaustion had crawled deep into your muscles in a way it hadn’t during the practice battle, or even through your vigorous training exercises. It left your limbs in a loose and rubbery state, but not yet burdened with the aching pain you’d undoubtably face later. It made every sensation you experienced spark with particular interest to your racing thoughts, voices made that much louder and the blow of a cool breeze through your sweaty hair that much cooler.

It was similar to the high you felt after managing a difficult piece of music or finally pulling off a tricky sword technique, a swell of pleasant and overwhelming joy. A feeling too big to be contained within your limited body. A wild giddiness.

Oddly, the sun had barely descended past its watchful position straight above. It seemed impossible that hours hadn’t passed since you set out upon the canyon considering all that had happened. Then again, your mind recalled the entire battle as nothing more than a blur, a flurry of sword strikes and shouted commands slipping by in a matter of minutes.

There had been the cold and prickling anticipation as Professor Byleth performed his final inspection and gave orders, a shuddering dread as you lined up against the bandits with weapons that had never tasted blood, the fluttering anticipation when the charge was called, and then a surge of energy, strength filling your body as all you had learned in training took over and you fought your first battle with everything you could.

And now, victory.

You didn’t think about what to do next, sheathing your sword and beginning to move contrary to the tide of men. Towards the front line, searching the dissipating crowd for familiar faces. Or, really, just the one familiar face. Your expression split into a bright smile when you saw him, heedless of the exhaustion. Dimitri’s blond hair was messier than you’d ever seen it, even while training. It caught every drop of sunlight, shining gold even when sticking to his head with sweat, several bits swept away at chaotic angles. There was blood on his armor, his cheeks were spotted with a red flush from exertion, and his expression was a bit worn. But, most importantly, he was unharmed.

Right then, in your half mad mindstate, you felt a blind rush of affection. Excitement. Victory. Skipping on feet that felt lighter than air, you rushed past the few scattering ranks of your small force. Dimitri saw you, opening his mouth to say something, but you cut him off by throwing your arms around his shoulders, tilting onto the tips of your toes. Luckily, he was used to moving with a spearman’s firm stance, which was the only thing that stopped both of you from toppling to the ground. The recklessness of the action hardly registered. Impulsive and excited and bubbly with the vigor of life itself, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. It happened so quickly that the sensations barely registered; a whiff of the musky masculine scent of his sweat, the smooth warmth of his cheek against your lips, your hand brushing the back of his hair when your arms met around his neck; and then you were dancing away, smiling with a mouth on the cusp of releasing a bout of delighted laughter.

“We did it!” you said, uncaring of the childish sound of your victorious words. The fact that you had fought and won was more than the victory of battle, serving as solid proof that you were meant to be among the knights and students, that you were right in choosing your own fate. It meant that your father had been wrong. It meant you were supposed to be here. At Dimitri’s side, maybe. “I can hardly believe it. I was so nervous at first, but we did it! I did it!”

“That you did,” Dimitri said in a slightly stiff voice, a measured contradiction to your manic excitement. He had pressed his hand to his cheek, right over where you had kissed him. Was that displeasure you read in his widened eyes, or disgust? Maybe surprise, being attacked was an awfully good reason to lose composure. And more, was his face that red before, or had the color darkened his fair complection further? His hand dropped, being used in a casual gesture towards you. “And with energy to spare, I see,” Dimitri teased. Although he still seemed a little flustered, his blue eyes twinkled with laughter.

You giggled in response, a giddy and nervous sound. The situation was beginning to sink in. Firstly, it probably broke a dozen different rules of etiquette to have thrown yourself at him, and that was before you factored in the unspoken rules of friendship and boundaries his status afforded him. Not to mention the battlefield you stood upon, or the uncomfortable weight of the gazes of the remaining soldiers who lingered, or the fact that Professor Byleth stood nearby speaking to a knight, or that not even a dozen feet away laid the unceremoniously fallen corpses of the bandit chief and his main guard in puddles of drying blood-

No. You forced yourself not to look at them, unwilling to consider the dead in conjunction with the way you felt now. Instead you focused on Dimitri and the thread of enthusiasm that had brought you to him, refusing to allow embarrassment or doubt to make you fold now that you had already committed.

“I’m just so happy that we won!” you said as way of justification. “I never thought that I’d be able to do something like this… And I wouldn’t have been able to do it without your help so I wanted to thank you because if it hadn’t been for all that training I think I totally would have choked, but because of you I didn’t, so...” You let the thought drop there, your disorganized words rushed together just as badly as your thoughts. And then, what else was there to say? The jittery excitement was still thudding in your heart and making your hands shake. You wanted to apologize, but you also didn’t feel sorry, so you chose instead to settle for the middle ground. “Anyway, I… I should probably go back and help.” You gestured vaguely behind yourself, smiling like a fool for all that you should have at least tried to feel shame. “Um, see you, Dimitri! And you, Professor!” you called with a jaunty wave before turning on your heel. If eyes followed you, or if either responded, you didn’t know, and you were far too shy to check as you hurried up the steps to the top of the canyon where the horses and knights were all congregated.

Embarrassment was easy in coming, but found little traction in the thrill that filled you as well. Victory was exciting in a way no song had ever properly described. Maybe more than any song could. And then there was the way your body buzzed, the warmth tickling your lips, and the way your heart pounded when you thought of how bold you’d been.

Victory truly was sweet.

Symphony Vittoria Opus 3, No. 2 II. Adagio

Victory, as it turned out, could hurt.

When Lord Lonato fell, it was with an awful, hollow stillness that came in the stead of fanfare or glory. This did not feel like victory, or at least any sort of victory you could be pleased with. Ashe waved away any of your attempts to console or help him, returning to the town alone to find his brother and sister. Even though you desperately yearned to, you didn’t dare follow him alone, knowing that you would be rejected as the enemy.

In the eyes of the townspeople, you were the enemy.

So you watched Ashe go, heart heavy and aching. It wasn’t Ashe’s rejection that stung, not exactly. What hurt the most was the knowledge that you, right then, were useless to him. Nothing you did or said would be able to help him, your words would fall on ears made deaf as they strained to hear the voices of the dead. Nothing you could do would ease his pain or set his world back to rights.

Just like your mother. You could picture her clearly right then, standing in a beautiful black dress above your father’s grave. Weeping because of her true, singular love for the man and the gaping emptiness in her heart that would never be filled without him. Like Ashe, your mother hadn’t wanted your help. To her, you had been nothing more than a reminder of what she could have had, what she was going to have before he died. That day, you lost your mother, too.

Would Ashe be the same as she had been? Would you be a symbol forever reminding him of the death of the man who raised and cared for him? Would he stay in a state of frigid misery, bound by the lingering hold of the dead and unable to move forward? You had only known him for a few months, yet the idea made your eyes hot and teary, a terrible feeling clenching in your chest.

No. You would figure out a way to prevent that from happening, you would not fail again.

Or so you swore to yourself, right then.

Turning away from the empty forrest road and that tremulous silent promise, you set out to find Dimitri. You didn’t know why. Certainly not to ambush him with a hug and kiss on the cheek as you had at the end of the last battle, or anything resembling any sort of excitement. For comfort, maybe. Maybe to ask for advice about Ashe. Then again, you weren’t sure you really wanted to supply a reason for desiring his company. More and more you’d begun seeking it out unprompted. You were friends, and that was definitely sacred and worth pursing. He shouldn’t have been special beyond that, but he was. And you didn’t like to think of exactly why that was, so you didn’t.

The knights were all packing up to make the return trip to the monastery, not losing a second of daylight in their meticulous routine. It struck you as horrifically callous. The church with all their men and might will come to kill your fathers and brothers and then leave within the hour, leaving naught a trace behind. But that was foolish, a childish fancy given teeth as you tried to reconcile what had happened with what you wished would have happened. It was kinder and more pragmatic to leave as quickly as possible and allow the people to grieve in private.

That was the reality.

You were better off with the indignant stance that Lord Lanato was the one at fault for the deaths. His own foolishness was at the cost of the men you had killed. But in the same breath of that scorn could you smell the blood, feel it flaking off of your hands like flakes of rust.

No.

You didn’t want to think about that, you couldn’t let yourself. A knight didn’t weep for those they killed if it was necessary. Those words were a lesson from your sword teacher in Fhirdiad, a knight who had retired after partaking in one too many of the ugly skirmishes that had popped up in the wake of King Lambert’s death. His eyes were haunted when he told you that it was important to know when to care, and when not to.

Another thought that was best left alone.

So you focused on your search efforts. Unfortunately, while dodging through the collected chaos you realized that Magdred Way’s tree lined paths weren’t great for visibility, even without that supernatural fog. Not only was your heart heavy with thoughts you cared little to entertain and you couldn’t find Dimitri, but everybody looked so sad as well. Your friends who should have been proud of themselves for achieving victory without any casualties were wearing grave masks and curled postures with slumped shoulders, the knights grim faced and terse. Professor Byleth was the only one seemingly unaffected by it all, pointing you in the right direction to find Dimitri without expression or comment, trailed by an especially and uncharacteristically severe-looking Catherine.

Probably, you should have been concerned by that sight alone. But you weren’t, not really, because once you knew where to look Dimitri was easy to spot. He was tucked in the shadow at the edge of the trees, sitting on the convenient seat of a rock with his head bowed and hands folded in something like reverence. The cheerless image brought you up short, the words you had intended to use to call to him dying on your lips.

Pain clung to him, weighed him down with something more than than the cheap sorrow you’d been fighting off. You could easily recognize the way it crowned his head in invisible lead and sank deep and heavy into his bones. It was, after all, a familiar sight.

Holding completely motionless a yard or so away from him, you briefly considered turning around and leaving Dimitri be. People who looked like that had never fared well with your intervention. But you couldn’t. He just looked too sad and lonely. So you approached him with soft steps, feeling the hesitancy of regret before you even spoke.

“Dimitri?” you asked softly, uncertain. “Are you all right?”

He tensed up at hearing your voice, his posture straightening out with a snap as if to cover for the momentary weakness. Red rimmed his eyes, although you thought it was more of an effect of fatigue than tears. It complimented the bluish shadows beneath.

“Yes, of course. I was just resting a moment,” he told you, his expression and voice carefully controlled. “Did you need something?”

Any person in the world would be able to tell that he was feigning indifference. Pain was stretched thin in the forcibly casual tone of his voice like pottery held too tightly, seconds away from cracking. It hurt, strangely, that he would put on an act around you, but you didn’t dare think too hard about that sharp stab of pain or why you’d feel it. More than anything, you were worried, your heart set aching anew as you realized that his sorrow far overcame your own.

“No, I don’t. You looked...” Despairing. Agonizing. Like the weight of the world was crushing you and I don’t understand why. “Upset,” you said lamely. An underlying awkwardness edged your voice, created by your influx of emotions you suddenly had no idea what to do with. “I can… I can go if you want to be alone.”

“It’s not that-” Dimitri began with more false pretense, only to cut off whatever else he was going to add and let out a heavy breath, rubbing a hand over his face and allowing his posture to relax. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I wanted a moment to collect my thoughts.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you asked.

“No,” he said firmly. Then, a moment later in a softer tone, “I don’t know.”

“This battle was… It was hard,” you said, an understatement if there ever was one, but Dimitri seemed to understand all the same.

“It was, and I know that what we did was necessary, but... I can’t help but wish that we could have handled that differently, that there was a different way to settle things without such violent measures.” His voice lowered even further, head bowing. “But if it wasn’t necessary, then what we did...”

Dimitri allowed the silence to speak for him.

“I think I understand,” you said, although you weren’t quite sure if you did. A part of your mind rebelled at the idea that violence wasn’t a way resolve conflict, although another wondered what such peace would look like. “But… We just have to keep going, don’t we? Maybe there’s another way, but this… We can’t let it define us, we just have to keep going forward and try to do better in the future, right?”

“Don’t you find it wrong?” Dimitri asked, his question given passion and intensity as he suddenly stood. The louder voice as well as the dramatic physical shift pulled you up entirely short, sending you a step back. “Does it not bother you to indiscriminately take the lives of those opposing us without even questioning if we could achieve the same goals without death?” All of the dispassionate pain you had seen before was gone, lit to a blaze in the soft blue of his eyes.

“I… I hadn’t thought very much about it,” you answered. The words came honestly in the face of being so startled, along with the pang of guilt that hit you from the accusatory nature of the question. “If it’s asked of me and my loyalty… No-” You hesitated, trying to think of a better way to phrase your thoughts, a prettier way. “If something I’m doing is protecting the lives of those I care for, I… I believe that it’s right,” you told him carefully. But, beneath the searching weight of his gaze, you wondered if that was only something to say. Like a poem or song. In truth, you hadn’t given the nature of battle or what you did to your enemies any sort of deeper thought. You didn’t want to. A hero couldn’t be a killer, even if they killed. And wasn’t it the same for you? For him? You had to believe that.

“What if the enemy believes the same?” Dimitri pushed urgently. “If all they’re doing is defending the people they care for in a conflict they have no say in?”

That gave you further pause, your eyebrows furrowing and chapped bottom lip retreating between your teeth as you tried to find an answer. You saw his argument, felt it just as clearly in the conflicted pain in his eyes. Doubt was poisoning him. Comprehension was sharp in that moment, an understanding of something you had been missing in the months you had known him. Dimitri’s capacity to care, something you admired so much, was a double edged sword. Great strength and great vulnerability. Of course it was. You’d seen it before, the agony of caring just a bit too much.

“I’d be glad,” you finally responded, slightly indignant in your desire to stand against his questioning. “If I died because of something I believed in, I would not regret it. I hope that anyone I fight feels the same.”

“And the ones they leave behind?” Dimitri asked, his voice softer, the rigidity of anger gone from this question. You met his eyes. Pure, perfectly pigmented powder blue. The color of reliability and honor, but also the color of melancholy and cold. Now they were needful. Looking for an answer you didn’t have, that probably didn’t exist. “What of them?”

You had heard that question before.

Any and all desire to argue against him bled out of you, leaving the overwhelming swell of post-battle exhaustion and anguish to hit you in full force, so stark it was nearly physical. “I don’t know,” you answered, your voice even softer than his own.

Dimitri’s eyes closed as he turned away, dissatisfied with your answer. “There really is no answer, is there?”

“Maybe there is,” you said, a weak attempt at hopeful optimism against his stormy despair. Dimitri didn’t disagree, but he didn’t have to do anything other than allow the words to deflate and disintegrate in the relative silence of your little bubble on the edge of the trees. And with them, an argument you couldn’t help but feel you had lost terribly.

“We should return to the others. Professor Byleth will want to speak to us all when we return, disturbing news had been discovered.” Dimitri said, his eyes opening and posture straightening out. The voice he used now was firm, but empty. Closed off once more. He did not wait for an answer before brushing past you, or look to ensure you were following.

“Right,” you agreed reluctantly, uselessly, following him on wooden legs.

#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #fe dimitri #FE3H #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd x reader #dimitri x reader #dimitri #my writing #like i said i never anticipated to this monastery pre timeskip stuff but if i'm writing it i have to bc these ideas #still exist #anyway i have class in like two minutes i shouldn't be posting #but yeet #beastie and the bard

46 notes · View notes

scoundrels-in-love · 4 years

Note

1 for the romance prompt meme?

This only took my like 4 days get around to, though I got the idea immediately!

A Touch

Takes place in the Arranged Marriage/Soulmate AU I first touched in If I’m gonna (lose) love someone, (don’t) let it be you.

[Send me prompt?

Also on AO3 because this deserves to stand on its own, if only for the connection it holds to that verse.

———————

Wanting is easier when you have no concept or words for the ache in your rib cage or your weary fingers or longing for something undefinable to cushion the weight of cold darkness in nights filled with doubts over decisions that will affect too many lives. At least that is what Brienne thinks. After all, a child will crave food, but if he does not know all the many kinds there are, if he doesn’t know the sweetness of strawberries or honeyed milk, his mind will conjure simpler images to taunt him with instead of impossible feasts.

She wishes she could go back to that simplicity.

To the time all she wanted after an exhausting day was her father’s comforting hug and low voice reminding her that words are wind. To when her mother’s and brother’s smile, blurred around edges by sunlight and time, would fill her with vague understanding of solace, but the yearning digging in her chest was blunted by knowledge no one can cross the riptide separating them.

To the time thought of loving and being loved by anyone else was incomprehensible and merely a breeze of longing, instead of a constant gale that pushes her toward the sea that may swallow her foolish heart.

But, she thinks as she watches Jaime shed his armor, perhaps it’s not the sea she should fear, but the jagged rocks awaiting her beneath Casterly Rock.

Before he can catch her staring, she turns away and focuses on her own armor. By all means, their squires should be here to help, but Jaime had sent them away on some errand, though she thinks he merely had no mind to deal with anyone in this state. They’ve seen so many men, and boys as well, fighting and dying. Both on the ‘wrong’ and the ‘right’ side, if there is one. She hopes there is. She has to believe there is.

There’s a hissed curse behind her and in next moment, she’s by his side, helping with the particularly frustrating buckle. He glares at her (not at her, but his own loss of ability, Brienne reminds herself), but she doesn’t step away.

“You hurt your ribs in the fall, did you not? The sooner you get out of this and see Maester the better,” she explains matter-of-factly and something softens in his face as he acknowledges her diversion from the emptiness by his right side. In turn, something sways in her chest at the sight, tapping gently against her heart.

Together, they divest him of his armor quickly, but before she can return to her side of the tent (the camp can only support one garishly lavish Commander tent and it is not as if they can explain they’re wedded in no more than name and co-leadership), he grasps her arm with the half undone vambrace. She opens her mouth to ask, then closes it, because the wanting is back, whispering to her about basking in the simplicity of taking care of each other that had drove her across the invisible line running through their shared space in the first place.

They work in silence, even when his fingers graze the white line sitting a top few red ones and far too many black ones on her left wrist, revealed where her doublet’s sleeve has ridden up. They have never spoken about it and by now, Brienne doubts they ever will. The reasons why it doesn’t really matter have changed through the years, from spiteful defiance to it’s not what binds us together. And even the definition of the ‘it’ that does has shifted and grown, far beyond words she ever thought she’d use or he is likely to think in regards to her.

She takes in a shuddering breath and pulls her arm away to get started on the next piece, pretending not to notice the twist of Jaime’s mouth as if she had dug her fingers into a dark and deep bruise, but he is too stubborn to say it.

Last of battle induced rush has seeped out of Brienne by the time her blue armor has become a pile on the floor and part of her wants to crumble by it, wants his arms around her - solid and filled with warmth of life -, wants nonsensical promises of ‘we did the best we could’, wants, wants.

(He gave her this armor and the sword, he shields her back and her left in battlefield and bloodbath of court, cannot he be another sort of armor, just for half an hour? But no, if now she’s merely a child imagining the sweetness of a foreign fruit, knowing it would surely ruin her.)

“I need to wash my face,” she says instead of all the nonsense buzzing softly in her throat. “Wouldn’t want to give the Measter even worse a scare, true,” Jaime agrees and she bristles a little, but enough for him to see. (But what doesn’t he see?) His mouth twists again, but not in satisfaction as it used to when he landed a well placed reminder of her ugly looks. But Brienne has no time to decipher it as he pulls her towards a chair, leaving her standing there dumbly and leaves to fetch a bowl of water and cloth, dragging another chair closer as he returns.

“Sit. I have had enough of standing for now and I have no intentions of tiptoeing for the right angle.” She does as told and catches a glimpse of grin. “This is the best thing to come of this battle - you have never listened to me before.”

“I listen when you say things worth hearing.”

The sunbeam fades from Jaime’s face as he puts cloth to her cheek and begins cleaning away the blood and the grime. “I told you not to charge in there - you could have died.”

“I think the experience of battlefield you like to bring up at any opportunity will tell you that any of us could have died at any moment.” The first part almost brings out a smile, before it is chased away by reality. She regrets it.

“That doesn’t mean you should seek it out, Brienne. You know better.” He sounds hoarse, somehow more so than he had when they entered the tent, though it makes no sense.

“I do. And I knew I could manage.” She had, too. It hadn’t even been the moment she earned a new scar. Brienne tries not to think of the one that had.

“And the other time?” Of course Jaime doesn’t hesitate to remind her. He tilts her head, fingers gentle on her jaw and then chin, so he can get a better angle.

“Also then.” She hadn’t, in truth. But she had seen him fall from his horse, sword just out of his grasp, and nothing else had mattered. Her hands clench on her knees, much like her gut does at the memory, and also to contain the ache in her hands, the sort that only comes from wanting to touch him. (It’s becoming more and more familiar with each month and she fears the day it will stop fading away. It’s bad enough it arrives even when he’s days’ worth of ride away.)

“You shouldn’t prioritize me on the battlefield.”

“I did not.” It’s not a complete lie, she had saved other soldiers as well, but it’s not clear truth as well - living among the lions has taught her few things about necessarily cast shadows. And yet she continues, goaded by the weighed gentleness of his gaze and touch.

“And every soldier in an army will protect their commander. We need you.” I need you. As commander, as friend, as everything he cannot be and everything he is though he doesn’t see it.

“We need you, too,” he tells her resolutely and she wants to hear the same sentiment in it so badly she almost can.

He puts the cloth away, done with cleaning, leans in closer and angles her face again, inspecting the wound on her forehead. “It will scar.” She nods mutely at that. “They say scars make a man, Ser.”

Part of her wants to take offense, like she had back when they first met and he had told her he doubted marriage between men would do much to ally the Kingdoms. (The way dust had kicked around him when he landed on ground hard a minute later still sends a spark of satisfaction through her.) Yet, the rest of her knows he means well, using the title he himself had given her. You’ve earned it with honor and wear it with such.

“If not that, at least it cannot do any further damage to my looks,” she concurs.

Jaime opens his mouth to say something, but his agreement is not something Brienne wants to hear right now so she snatches the cloth from the table: “Your turn.”

Since he hasn’t suffered a head injury that bleeds quite profusely, there’s less work to be done, but she doesn’t rush. And if he notices that Brienne uses the advantage of having both hands to keep touching his jaw almost constantly, he says nothing.

The silence stretches and winds around them, like the ribbon that had been tied around their joined hands during the wedding, though it brings comfort instead of resigned dread.

Neither of them move to rise even when she is done, taking what little rest and strength they can before they are thrown back into counting their losses and gains, planning next move.

Yes, Brienne thinks as she looks at him, it was immensely easier when she didn’t know the want of kissing someone more than words without anchor in a song, when relief hadn’t taken form of his pulse and his arms and her name on her husband’s lips. When If only Jaime was here wasn’t the first thought to cross her mind as she stands on battlements, staring at the night sky - sleepless from her duties (which he’d give insight in or frustratingly joke about) or merely growing pains of longings as they take shape.

And yet, none of the steps she has taken to be here have been easy. Natural and necessary, maybe, but not easy. So it makes a cruel sort of sense that loving her husband, her soulmate, would be the same.

She smiles a little at the thought and Jaime quirks eyebrow at her, but she blessedly escapes a questioning with the arrival of Maester with Jaime’s squire in tow, who then piles new reports on the table. The reprieve is over, but it has given her much to treasure and feed her longings piece by piece to quiet the hungry ache when Jaime is unreachable. (Even if sometimes it is when he’s standing right next to her.)

#Braime #Brienne x Jaime #braime ff #braime fanfiction #got #rainy writes stuff #my fic #Anonymous #sent on a cloud

34 notes · View notes

corruptedsorrows · 4 years

Note

what do you think of chuuyaxdazai? chuuyaxatsushi? chuuyaxakutagawa? chuuyaxyasano? chuuyaxranpo? chuuyaxkunikida? chuuyaxtachihara? chuuyaxango? chuuyaxtsujimura? chuuyaxodasaku?

Heck that’s a lot of ships anon. I guess the easiest way would be to put them in a sort of number ranking and explain my reasoning, yes? Let’s go with that.

So the range is 0 - 10, 10 is OTP/intensely shipped and loved, 0 is absolute NOTP, don’t bring it near me with a 20 foot pole. Sound good? Alright let’s go!

(read more because this is a titan of a post)

ChuuyaxDazai

Hnnngh… my grandmaster of BSD ships. I don’t think it should come as much surprise to anyone here that this is my OTP, ranking an easy 10/10 ship. There is so much complexity and depth to these two I could rant for hours, but I’ll hold my tongue. I will say at the very least, with this being my OTP I am honestly quite choosy about who I open my heart to with it.

I want to explore all facets of this ship, not just jump straight into romance and smut (although yes, I do like it). More than anything I want to explore the drama between them. I want to have fun shenanigans of teasing and their childish banter. I want Chuuya to understand the shit that goes through Dazai’s head and pull him back from the cliff he’s drawn to–if only for a moment. Chuuya knows how much his head tortures him now, he understands that after having spent so long together. He knows he absolutely isn’t the cure Dazai needs, but he can’t help longing for it. The double edged sword of always being the one passed over for Dazai certainly doesn’t make admitting what he feels towards the man any easier to understand. Why should he want to be involved with the person he’s always being compared to?

This sort of depth is what I’m looking for in anyone that wants to RP this ship with me. I want to dive into the core of SKK and swim in those troubled waters. I want them to fight and scream at each other, to reach their limits and break down as the finally have their masks shattered. These two know each other to such a depth–even with all of their bad blood that they can still understand each other’s thoughts and actions without speaking on it. They can still trust each other with their lives and know that even though everyone else they thought they could trust–that may have even shown kindness towards them, has let them fall. No matter how badly these two fall out with each other, they’ll never let the other fall past the point of being saved. At the end of the day they’ll be the one outstretching their hands to catch each other.

ChuuyaxAtsushi

I WANT TO RP WITH AN ATSUSHI SO FRICKING BADLY. As the brutality of SSKK I want Chuuya to mentor Atsushi and work with him on accepting his ability. Chuuya’s gone through so much of the same strife and struggle I think these two could understand each other very well. Granted, they’d probably clash on the surface given how little patience Chuuya has for those too afraid to fight (it’s the Port Mafia way), but knowing Atsushi’s fears about hurting others with his ability and being afraid of it he understands very well. He knows what it’s like to feel like a monster, to be transformed into something when everyone else’s ability is merely an extension of themselves. It’s different when you become something instead of wield it.

I want these two to have these talks so badly, and I sincerely hope Kafka will give us this content because I think Atsushi could stand to grow so much under Chuuya’s guidance. Again, like Akutagawa I view these more on a familial/mentor relationship, but I think unlike Akutagawa, Chuuya would be able to dote on Atsushi more and be allowed to express himself in more heartfelt ways–like hugs and gentle hair brushes… things like that. I’d put these two at 6/10.

ChuuyaxAkutagawa

Oh Akutagawa… while I don’t really ship these two, I like to think of Chuuya as something like the replacement for Akutagawa. I don’t think Chuuya did a very good job considering how much Akutagawa still pines for Dazai’s attention, but Chuuya understands that pinning at least. He knows how painful it was for Akutagawa when Dazai left suddenly, and seeing how Dazai’s effectively replaced them all with ADA equivalents must hurt like hell to him. I love having Chuuya as a source of comfort for Akutagawa, but I don’t romantically ship them together. This would be more of a familial/mentor relationship and I prefer it that way between them. 4/10.

ChuuyaxYosano

I WANT THESE TWO TO GET PLASTERED IN A BAR TOGETHER! Chuuya and Yosano would be THE BEST drinking buddies and no one can tell me otherwise! I think these two have decent potential as romantic partners–but there’s a huge problem between them–and that would be Mori. Yosano can’t stand the idea of him and Chuuya has dedicated his life to servitude under him. There would be so many arguments and fights over this that it would be a serious point of contention between them.

I would love to see though… if one day they got on well enough for Yosano to truly see the damage Corruption has done to Chuuya. It’s something she wouldn’t be able to heal from how long its existed in his system. She could of course heal him if he were in a state of Corruption that lasted long enough to put his life in jeopardy, but otherwise Chuuya would be one of the few cases where she simply wouldn’t be able to heal someone and could only watch them waste away with each use like a fatal disease. What sort of affect would that have on her I wonder? 6/10.

ChuuyaxRanpo

Ok this is admittedly a guilty ship for me. I honestly didn’t realize how much I would ship this until I actually started RPing here and got to interact with an amazing Ranpo. I think it’s enjoyable because in many ways Ranpo is like Dazai as far as intellect is concerned. While Chuuya doesn’t have background with Ranpo, the man is able to easily cut through Chuuya’s bullshit and pride in order to get to the heart of what Chuuya is really feeling. And he teases Chuuya about just as badly and as a MUN I’m horribly weak to my muses being teased. I would put these two at about 8/10?

As much as Ranpo is able to give Chuuya by means of healing and growth, I’m not sure how much Chuuya would be able to give Ranpo in return. He’s certainly not the best intellectual companion, but maybe that’s what Ranpo finds amusing. He can indulge in simpler things and not have to overthink all the time.

ChuuyaxKunikida

I don’t think Chuuya would ever meet any of Kunikida’s ideals so 0/10. No, I’m kidding! I think these two would fit really nicely together as work friends–even though they’re on opposite sides. They have one extreme headache in common and it would be nice for them to just chat out their frustrations over drinks at a bar. Kunikida may just have to step down from his high horse a bit to be able to stoop to casual conversation with the enemy. I’d give them a 2/10. I’m not much for a romantic ship for them, but friendos? YES PLEASE!!!

ChuuyaxTachihara

At first I was like, ah… they’re good bros. Just what Chuuya needs, a best friend that he can confide in. And then Tachihara was revealed as a spy and member of the Hunting Dogs, betraying Port Mafia and I just tiorewihtwfoilahflidu. CHUUYA APPARENTLY ISN’T ALLOWED TO HAVE ANY FRIENDS OR FAMILY JFC. When’s Kouyou handing in her notice at this rate?! However, Tachihara’s leaving of Port Mafia, and his compounded feelings towards them definitely added a nice level of spice for me with this ship, giving it room to have less bromantic feelings and more romantic.

I enjoy them as an angst ship and I so yearn for that confrontation between them. I enjoy ships that have a lot of work to be done and aren’t smooth sailing–but there’s potential. There has to be some foundation there that holds them together, and in this case it’s that former friendship. So for these too I’d now say that they’re at 6/10.

ChuuyaxAngo

This is quite honestly a ship I struggle to understand as far as how it would work. I see how they could get on with being mutually misunderstood by both their organizations and suffering as a result of their abilities but Chuuya has so much animosity towards Ango for all that he has done and what he represents by working for the Special Abilities Division. Hell, Ango has even referred to Chuuya by his number, making him feel even less human when he already struggles with that concept so much in his life. I truly don’t see these two working together and think they would be far better off with others. 2/10.

ChuuyaxTsujimura

In perfectly good honesty I have not read the spin off novel for the Special Ability Division. However, Chuuya would likely feel very similar to her in the way he does Ango. Chuuya HATES the government with a burning passion for what they put him through. While Tsujimura does seem to have a considerably bigger heart, Chuuya would likely not be able to stand her due to her affiliation not only with the Division, but working directly with Ango as well. Strangely enough though, I do think her concern for Chuuya’s well being would warm his heart quite a bit. It’s rare for anyone to show compassion towards the danger he throws himself into so… on that merit alone it gives her quite an advantage: 6/10

ChuuyaxOdasaku

Again, Chuuya once more doesn’t get on with someone in this listing. It’s an unfortunate pattern. He blames Oda for convincing Dazai to betray the organization and leave, so Oda is in his own way a traitor in Chuuya’s eyes. However, he can also see how Oda’s influence has changed Dazai for the better, and he’s grateful for that. Chuuya’s feelings towards him went from jealous friend, to enemy, to a father figure he wished he could’ve had. Dazai was very lucky to have had someone to teach him in his life for so long. So if anything, it would be more of a paternal/familial ship with Oda and it would certainly be complicated. I’d place this at about… 3/10?

#◺ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴇᴅɢᴇʀ◹ ┅ ᴀsᴋs #☈ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴡɪɴᴇ — ᴏᴏᴄ #Anonymous

5 notes · View notes

slouchyslouch · 5 years

Text

Taking Back Sunday’s 20th Anniversary Tour

Getting back into the tumblr thing again to find other music writers. Here’s a repost from my Medium account.

The first time I listened to Taking Back Sunday, I was probably around 12 or 13. I was just getting into the so called emo and pop-punk scene. Taking Back Sunday was one of those bands that were easy to get into because there was so much affection in the vocals, you had to yell out the lyrics even when you had headphones on. The show at the Commodore Ballroom in Vancouver exhibited how old music could still bring together a horde of former (and maybe present) scene kids and unite them in glory.

You could feel a certain excitement in everyone at the venue. My friend and I were grabbing beers only a few minutes before the show was supposed to start. As soon as I saw the now elderly members of Taking Back Sunday get on stage and immediately started playing “You Know How I Do,” I had the most intense urge of just getting into middle of the crowd as soon as possible. The cascading guitars of the song pummelled like a vehicle’s engine getting ready for the long trek. Adam Lazarra started to combust on the stage: “So sick so sick of being tired / and oh so tired of being sick,” a line thematic of my generation’s emo kids. Everybody just wanted to be their own person and not have anyone tell them what to do. My friend and I couldn’t stop giggling about how we were going to see them, and here they are on stage as pumped as they looked 20 long years ago.

Slowly, but surely we made our way towards the mosh pit in time for “Cute Without the E,” a classic by the Long Island band. Adam Lazzara at 37 years old still looks great, a kind of scene Jimmy Page as my friend mentioned at the time of the concert. He doesn’t look like a rockstar that’s dwindled to the fringes of the scene but a man still worthy of the stage. I was aways at awe watching him swing that mic on early youtube clips and here he was as nimble as ever tossing the mic around like a whip easily coiled and ready to lash out. John Nolan looks like a dad now with hair flowing down both sides of his face and a semi-kept beard. He still belted out my favourite echoed vocals, always fighting for space in the song but in reality always complementing Lazzara’s wails.

One of the highlights from the concert was the popular “You’re so Last Summer.” Goosebumps crawled all over my body as soon as Lazarra belted that iconic opening line from the track: “She said don’t!” — the crowd relishing in the song’s luster. High school was such a time of isolation and angst for a lot of these late twenties “kids,” but that doesn’t mean we could relive those times with a sort of nostalgic joy. Everyone gathered for this celebration of music can look back into those times of yearning. It’s always nice to look at ourselves now and realize how much we’ve grown and matured.

After they finished playing the album “Tell All Your Friends,” Lazzara had one of the members of the Maine come out to flip a coin whether to play the albums Louder Now or Where You Want To Be. I wanted them to play the former but the latter got picked to the delight of the crowd. It seemed like the younger generation of Taking Back Sunday fans (probably people my age) would have gone for Louder Now because of the song “MakeDamnSure” but I didn’t mind it. It was one of the bigger highlights of the concert by a mile and probably had given me the biggest nostalgia hit. That was one of the first songs I played live with my first band in the Philippines. Those were the makings of musicians following their own path today. At the Commodore Ballroom that night though, bodies flung against one another in the hopes of feeling each other’s sweat and passion, bits of saliva trickling out of everyone’s mouths shouting out the words of a disgruntled poet about a bad relationship: “I just want to break you down so badly,” a line possibly misinterpreted as putting words into action but is actually meant to convey the deeper sadness of having oneself being put down by a loved one. There’s a willingness to hurt the other person but there is a love that holds it back.

Towards the second half of the album, everything slowed down. Most of the crowd stopped moshing and just kept to their miniature head-banging. It was only during the 3rd part of their set where they played “This Photograph is Proof” and “A Decade Under the Influence” where the crowd gained a third jolt of energy to start another mosh and singing along to the teenage anthems of their childhood for the last hurrah. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” a catchy lyric repeated through Nolan’s angst on the track has been ringing through my head for a few days now. The lyric captures a moment of lingering anxiety before a predicted breakup. The opposite could be said about the whole night.

At the end of the show, I was left with feeling a sense of elation, a sort of transcendence within the present world. There aren’t a lot of bands that can do that. Maybe it was the nostalgia hitting me hard, or maybe it was just my communion with the audience. There’s a sense of intimate unity you achieve when moshing with other people who know the lyrics. It’s a shared dance we’ve savoured in our teenage years, a time when everything was easier even if at the time, it felt like the whole world was against us.

I found out about Taking Back Sunday through one of my good friends from my childhood. He showed me the song “Timberwolves at New Jersey” during our preteens, a time for some of us when we started to consider rebelling against our parents. That intro guitar riff with Lazzara singing, “Get up, get up, come on, come on let’s go!” always got me out of my seat and made me want to start moshing. I long for the days when I was just getting into that emo scene and wanting to be a punk rocker so bad. Most of the people my age at the show could probably say the same, and for that one night we collectively embraced that culture not with a mutinous furor but with a devotion to the music.

#taking back sunday #music review #music #emo #pop punk #live review

2 notes · View notes