#also what do you guys think of this dumb au so far?? lemme know about ur thoughts: 3
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Have y'all heard of this really cool and obscure cartoon aired on MTV called Wokesona that got cancelled in the early 00s because of that one episode where everyone summons demon using guns and the satanic panic crowd finds out about it?? Good times
Anyway other versions undercut :3
Anyway hhh I've been overwhelmed by nostalgia lately (i just watched mtv downtown and oh god poetic cinema) and I just want to make them look grungy here and also I want them to wear silly and fire outfit hhh shoutout to @gaki-jakku for the road dog tshirt lol 😆
#oKAY BUT HONESTLY HHH Shinji would wear any tshirt his wardrobe kinda sucked and like most of his tshirts are from giveaway-#or something he won from a lucky draw#also no I dont hc kotone as autistic but I am autistic so like she can wear that tshirt for all I care#god im indulging myself too much on this au and like having so much fun drawing all of them in this style i forgot my responsibility irl#also what do you guys think of this dumb au so far?? lemme know about ur thoughts: 3#asukart#persona 3#persona 3 reload#persona 3 portable#shinjiro aragaki#kotone shiomi#minako arisato#persona 3 femc#shinjiham#foolmoon#00s highschool au
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Are You in Or Out?
Rated: Explicit
Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY
Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end
Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met.
a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!
Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—
Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things.
Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income.
The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing.
Reckless.
An invitation for disaster.
But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.
The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles.
It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship.
But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.
It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back.
Whatever.
Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off.
Maybe.
-=-=-=-
You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you.
“Are you sure, kid? This could—“
“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.”
“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”
Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?”
“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”
You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.
If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think.
However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—
“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”
You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—
No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—
Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;
“No.”
Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”
“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”
Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“
“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.”
Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.
You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”
“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots.
Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.”
The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.
“I don’t need the extra baggage.”
“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.”
“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”
“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…”
“Right.”
Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.
At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own).
There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.
Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.
You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that.
If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?
-=-=-=-
Well—the cynical part of you was right.
It did end up in a fiery shit show.
Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will.
You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.
Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…
You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.
It doesn’t matter at this point…
You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.
Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans.
The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.
The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal.
There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.
And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…
You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.
Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.
Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter.
Eh.
Could be worse.
At least you aren’t dead.
Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun.
Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.
And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.
There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light.
They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.
Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room.
“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”
Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”
You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.”
“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”
“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.”
You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”
There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.
“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.
You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.”
You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”
You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt.
Damn it.
-=-=-=-
It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this.
He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn.
It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red.
“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.”
“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.
Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”
You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it.
“Leave.”
“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.”
Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved.
You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”
“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side.
Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.”
“Boy—“
“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”
You wince.
In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.
Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”
Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.”
The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.
Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet.
In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch.
Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage.
Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?”
Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.”
You frown. “Poor guy…”
Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”
“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.
You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“
“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp.
You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?”
“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder.
You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”
“Not if they take you by surprise.”
You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.”
You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”
“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.”
You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”
Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“
A triumphant smile splits across your face—
“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”
You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”
He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”
Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”
As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them.
And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right.
Aha! Yes!
Your reign of victory is short lived, however—
He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath.
Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.
Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning.
Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet.
A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man.
Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell—
You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”
“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling.
You purse your lips. “Huh.”
With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”
“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”
The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?”
“She isn’t made of glass.”
“She is still recovering—“
Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.
“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.”
Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”
“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”
Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance.
“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.”
“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”
“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.”
“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.
He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.”
You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin.
He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.
He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.
Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again.
Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle.
Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole.
Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.”
However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.
In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope.
Here you are—asphyxiating.
Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it.
Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?
“Din—”
Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.
You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off.
You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.
“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.
“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”
It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on.
Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.”
You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”
His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“
There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah.
Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?”
It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.
“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.”
Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree.
It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—
But, oh—
Isn’t it worth taking the risk?
You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”
Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”
Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.
“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.”
It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.
“Take me like you mean it.”
The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.
Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.”
Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din."
Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb.
“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”
Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing.
You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”
“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”
You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees.
You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch.
There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—
Fuck—
Will he even fit?
Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.
“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”
Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.
But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds.
It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm.
“Paz—“
He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”
Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.
You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.
Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh.
Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—
You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—
“I wish I could kiss you.”
It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—
Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”
You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough.
“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.”
“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.”
Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”
Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”
“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“
“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.”
Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—
You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you.
You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.
“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals.
You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”
“Cant see anything either, right?”
You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”
“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered.
Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—
“You need a haircut, vod.”
“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation.
“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.”
There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration.
The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—
There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip.
You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.
Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind.
Din’s kiss is devouring—
Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—
You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning.
Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.
“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.”
“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on.
Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside.
“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”
It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth.
Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”
Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.
You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now—
He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit.
Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.
Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away.
He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.
“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.
Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.
You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.
“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.
“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.”
Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.”
“Neither will your arrogance.”
“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”
For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out.
“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.”
Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.”
Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic.
Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”
Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“
“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”
You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further.
“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”
Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—
“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”
The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words.
Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips.
Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“
Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?”
Din.
You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—
But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.
Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position.
“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath.
You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.”
Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.
You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him.
You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.
It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete.
Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.
“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.”
The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need.
Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much.
You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”
There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours.
Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“
You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.
Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.
“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”
Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.
In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear.
You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder.
Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?”
Maker—
You’re gonna fucking explode.
Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.
You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.”
You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”
Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”
You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts.
Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before.
“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”
You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.
Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.
“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—
“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”
Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.
A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?
You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.
This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.
“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”
His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.”
Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems.
Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air.
Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“
Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”
Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.
You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.”
Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—
Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.
You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future.
You shrug it off.
Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear.
“You love her, don't you?”
translation:
vaar’ika--pipsqueak
or’dinni--dumbass idiot
vod--brother/comrade
tag list:
@bobafctts @djxrxn @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aerynwrites @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @trippedmetaldetector
#happy SINday :)#pls accept some mando schlong#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#paz vizla x reader#paz vizsla x reader#paz vizla#paz vizsla#din djarin#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x reader#star wars#sw#fanfic#my writing#reader insert
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first of all can i just say congrats on the 500 like i'm so happy for you and you absolutely deserve it (huge bear hug :) ) now i had this crazy hcs idea and i immediately thought of you so long story short how would Karasuno , Aoba Johsai and Nekoma react to their sweet manager having powers similar to those of scarlet witch (marvel) or mirajane strauss (fairytail anime) feel free to pick whichever one is easier and thank you so much for indulging my crazy request. love u lots - safiyah <3333
oh my goodness thank you sm for your words here’s a bear hug <3 also also i was literally just thinking just how cool it would be to have like a supernatural au haikyuu thing and then you send me this wow we on some mind reading shit. anyways i really hope you like this. sorry it’s like hq on crack if you want a serious one lemme know hsjkhsk
karasuno high
they lose their shit.
every single one of them.
mentally they’re all like 12 (except daichi and mqybe ennoshita) so i definitely think they’d have a very childish reaction to it.
it’s so endearing though.
they find out while walking you home one night: it’s very stormy and they just wanted to make sure you get home safe because they worship the ground you walk on. cue like a fucking billboard nearly falling on you and the group of boys and your instincts just kick in and you stop it mid air.
noya’s still screaming even after everyone’s just gone silent and is gawking at the fact a billboard (or whatever the object is i can’t think rip) is hovering above them. in mid air. because of you. what the fuck?
daichi’s blood pressure drops he’s like somebody catch me im about to faint wtf is going on.
you kinda freak and just toss it away and run your way back home, as far away from the boys as possible.
but alas, you’re their manager, and you have duties to fulfill. so you show up to practice the next morning terrified for your life.
you’re not really sure why you’re so scared and nervous. you just are? it’s a huge part of who you are and it’d be a big bummer if the most important boys in your life didn’t accept it.
noya greets you with a really big hug
tanaka’s so loud but what’s new <3
daichi and suga just come up to you and gently ask if you’re okay because you ran off so quick yesterday
they all act super normal during practice but you can tell
you can tell
they want to ask so many questions they’re gonna explode
after practice, when coach ukai and takeda leave, and it’s just you, kiyoko, and the boys, it’s s o quiet. you would hear a pin drop.
you just sigh and go “you can ask”
your poor eardrums </3
they’re so fascinated by everything you say
kiyoko’s like “i had a hunch” like how do u have a hunch about something like this anyways what a queen
noya’s like “make me fly”
and tsukki in the back “drop him on his ass pls”
they definitely make you do so many things for them with it
cleaning duty is now on you because hello !! you can move things with your mind !!
kags doesn’t get it. he’s like. ok? and ? i can set volleyballs perfectly, hinata can jump really high despite his height, she can move things with her mind? so what?
i love him
they’re also crazy good at keeping it a secret?
not hinata tho he slips up so often like thank god the secret isn’t realistic or believable
he’ll be like “oh yeah? well our manager can move things with her mind!”
and suga just has to usher him away with a pained smile like “yeah she’s so incredible haha” while doing that thing moms do where they squeeze or pinch your shoulder if they’re mad at you in public
it feels like a weight lifted off your shoulders when they find out because the closer you grew to these boys, the more they felt like family to you.
aoba johsai
my favorite team
i hc makki as someone that smokes weed. pls don’t try to convince me otherwise. look at him. he’s a pothead <3
this is going somewhere i swear.
so you’re a 3rd year manager, meaning you’ve been with these boys a while now, specifically the third years of the team, so y’all are pretty close.
how they find out: it’s like 3am on a weekend, the seijoh 4 and some of the second years. you’d baked a cake with like all of them all at once in the kitchen, so it was now a mess, so you’re attempting to clean it up as fast as you can the way you know best — with your hands and your mind. makki walks in, high as shit, sees this and just.
“damn must be the weed.”
you don’t hear him. so. uh oh.
he was probably sent there by iwa to get water or something, so iwaizumi walks in and just yells so loud “what the fuck!”
it’s like they’re all summoned by this. they eventually all pile into the kitchen and you’re literally just frozen in fear with pots and pans and utensils and specks of flour hovering by you. and then you maintain eye contact with iwa as you lift one hand and direct the pans into a cupboard and slowly shut it.
“so it’s not the weed?”
they honestly. don’t act any different tbh
it’s like an added feature of yours that they appreciate.
oikawa asks you to read his mind to test if what happened that night was real and you just lift him up from off his seat.
“i asked you to read my mind tho hm”
yeah mind reading is just a regular thing now. they will slyly ask you to read the other team’s minds during a match and you’re like no that’s cheating. but you do. and you subtlety give them advice. like “hm i wonder if that team’s gonna do this specific attack”
also oikawa asks (read:begs) u to like help them make it through to nationals
you say “will it feel like a true accomplishment if i do?”
shuts his pretty face up <3
they also make you like. toss volleyballs to them. but with your mind. multiple of them. they take it as some stupid challenge idk these boys are dumb i love them
they also love throwing things at. YOU. LIKE WTF?
like haha dodgeball but it’s a group of 6’0+ athletes against just. you.
sounds fair
they also become insanely protective of you after they find out. idk how that clicks w them but. yes.
especially mattsun and iwa ? like men. relax.
anyways they would abuse the shit out of your powers genuinely but it’s okay it’s out of love <3
nekoma high
they. they’re idiots. all of them.
kuroo would probably be like but scientifically ! this makes zero sense
omg kenma would lose his MIND.
HES A GAMER BRUH
HED BE OBSESSED W YOU.
but lowkey bc none of that simp shit </3
ooou okay so you’re at a training camp and they sneak you in with them so you guys can play truth or dare
bc yk. you’re kids.
and y’all are going around and you just pick truth and someone asks what’s the biggest secret you’ve ever kept from us and they expect some dirty shit they’re nasty smh
and then you straight up go “i can move things w my mind”
and theyre like ok miss stop playin fr
keep in mind it’s dark as hell in the dormitory and eerily quiet and you shift one of the chairs in there, and it squeaks loudly
yamamoto jumps and looks at you w so much fear in his eyes. “that wasn’t you”
“bet?”
and then suddenly all chairs are moving all at once and yamamato deadass screams
kuroo’s shrugging like. “it’s just the wind,�� like ur not in a closed off room w all the windows shut whatever u say sir <3
lev’s like
gone into shock. seriously someone go get him water or something.
when morning comes they’re all like hella scared to approach you except kenma and kuroo bc kenma— is in awe. kuroo — does not believe it.
you’re kinda :( that they’re scared of you and you approach them after the day is over and just apologize, and tell them you didn’t mean to scare them and that you’d never hurt them or even consider it.
they do a 180 bruh they just all go “awwwwww” and suffocate you in a group hug so you shove them all off for good measure lmao
kuroo still doesn’t believe it until you save his ass in broad daylight and he’s like ok maybe it wasn’t fake so what sue me
whenever there are training camps where other schools come they beg u to help them prank the boys
especially bokuto and hinata
and you do obviously
it’s hilarious watching them scream as something moves slightly. you never do it that it’s suspicious just enough to be like did that happen or is my mind messing w me rn
scarlet witch also has the ability to mess w people’s mind in the literal sense and whenever one of the boys pisses you off particularly you just make them see their biggest fear
kenma asks you to reenact some of his favorite gameplays for him
it’s literally just roleplay and you couldn’t care less someone catches the two of you you’re no pussy you can admit when you’re having fun
overall a very chaotic reaction
they don’t treat you any different they’re just like 100x more hyped about who you are. like the fact that you’re their manager is already a blessing and now this !!!
incredible <3333
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu headcanons#karasuno x reader#aoba johsai x reader#nekoma x reader#haikyuu au
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Take A Bow
Title: Take A Bow
Warnings: swearing, cheating, mentions of sex and alcohol ( just a mention ), baby
Pairings: N/A
AU: Grown Up
Disclaimer: i dont own you or the Twilight Saga franchise, i do own the writing.
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Im thinking of making a part 2! If i should lemme know! Also let me know who should be the true love!!
Part2
….
You let out a dry laugh as the scene unfolded in front of you. Now, him doing this to you, didn't surprise you. Hell, Paul was one of the more popular boys in college. Fraternities, parties, alcohol and sex seemed to be the one thing he was known for. When you two first met he totally posed as a good person. However after a couple years, a house and a baby on the way in the up and coming weeks he definitely seemed to have started to drift.
Oh, how about a round of applause, yeah
Standing ovation
Oh, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
"Don't leave! We can talk this out!" Paul chased after you, throwing on his robe. "Talk what out Paul?" You scoffed, throwing a couple of shirts into a bag. "I didn't mean it!" He huffed. "Oh, so you didn't mean to shove your dick repeatedly in her or…?" You looked at him. "If you leave we will never be able to fix this!" He said, exasperated. "Maybe I don't want to fix this."
You look so dumb right now
Standing outside my house
Trying to apologize
You're so ugly when you cry
Please, just cut it out
You tossed your phone onto the old bed. It was yours when you were 16… however you were far from 16. "Paul's outside." Your dad, Charlie, walked into the room. "Of course he is.." You scoffed. "Do you want to see him?" Charlie asked, scratching the back of his neck. Paul moved to where your window was, waving his arms around. You growled to yourself, as you opened the window. "I don't want to see you Paul! We can discuss anything but the child, but it's over between you and me!"
Don't tell me you're sorry 'cause you're not
Baby, when I know you're only sorry you got caught
"Does Paul keep texting you?" Bella asked. "I only answer about the kid." You shrugged, sitting on the Cullen's couch. "Are you and the dog finally done-zo?" Rosalie asked, walking into the room. "'Fraid so." You said softly, pushing your hair from your face. "Least you'll get something out of the relationship." Rosalie said, a sour attempt at trying to make you feel better, but an attempt none the least.
But you put on quite a show
Really had me going
But now it's time to go
Curtain's finally closing
That was quite a show
Very entertaining
But it's over now (but it's over now)
Go on and take a bow
"I really feel bad crashing here." You sighed, however Esme hushed you quick, handing you a sandwich. "Nonsense. You're a sweet girl and we want to help anyway we can." You smiled as you took the sandwich. "You look like you haven't slept a wink." Esme said in a worried tone as she moved behind you to fix your hair into a clean ponytail. "I really haven't." You sighed as you ate some of the sandwich. "Do you have anything for us to do?" Emmett asked, walking over with Jasper. "I still need to grab clothes from the house." You finished the sandwich. "Say less."
Grab your clothes and get gone (get gone)
You better hurry up
Before the sprinklers come on (come on)
Talking' bout'
"Girl, I love you, you're the one."
This just looks like a re-run
Please, what else is on (on)
"Open up, Paul!" Emmett knocked on the door. "What do you need?" The tanned man asked, opening the door. Disheveled and shirtless. "We were sent to get clothes." Jasper said, pushing past Paul, up to the bedroom, completely ignoring the naked woman on the bed. "You never learn do you?" Emmett rose an eyebrow, grabbing a suitcase as they packed it full of clothes. "It's hard to keep your hands off of your real mate. You'd know Emmett." Paul said.
Don't tell me you're sorry 'cause you're not
Baby, when I know you're only sorry you got caught
"Real mate..." You repeated what Jasper said. "I wasn't... you mean… oh my god." You let out a choked sob as you sat on the floor. "Emotions…" Jasper nudged Emmett as they walked out of the room backwards. "Oh dear..." Alice sighed, walking into the room, sitting on her knees next to you. "I assume you've found out something?" She asked, pushing stray hairs from your face. "He didn't love me." You said, the tears streaming down your face.
But you put on quite a show
Really had me going
But now it's time to go
Curtain's finally closing
That was quite a show
Very entertaining
But it's over now (but it's over now)
Go on and take a bow
You leaned your back against the cold wall as you looked forward. "You gonna get out of bed today?" Bella asked, sitting next to you onto the plush bed. "I gotta... I got work." You sighed. "Do you think I'll find my forever?" You asked, halfheartedly. "I think anyone can." She half-smiled at you. "Now you're dead- well, undead, with a husband for life and a daughter. I got a son with no one." You looked at your stomach.
Oh, and the award
For the "Best Liar" goes to you
(goes to you)
For making me believe
That you could be
Faithful to me
Let's hear your speech
"Please. Just hear me out. I couldn't control myself." Paul walked behind you as you walked through the isles of the store. "You slept with her and didn't even have the decency to tell me... for weeks this went on and I can't believe that you had Seth cover for you!" You kept a hushed tone as you turned your back towards him, putting a pack of newborn diapers in the cart. "I can't help that I don't love you the way I love her!" He shouted in the middle of the aisle. "I hate you." You said lowly, pushing the cart to the register.
How about a round of applause
A standing ovation
You sighed. "Thank you guys." You said, sitting on the bed. "No problem. We made the same one for Renesmee when she was born." Carlisle smiled fondly at you as he stood up. "I really appreciate you letting me stay here." You said. "You don't have to thank us. We love having you around. You're good people." He nodded at you. "Carlisle… do you think everything will be alright?" You asked, looking at him. "I know it will be."
But you put on quite a show
Really had me going
Now it's time to go
Curtain's finally closing
That was quite a show
Very entertaining
But it's over now (but it's over now)
Go on and take a bow
But it's over now
#paul lahote x reader#paul x reader#twilight x reader#twilight imagines#twilight imagine#paul lahote#paul lahote imagines#paul lahote imagine#desi's writings#desi's oneshot#des' oneshot#des' writing
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WAIT NOW THAT I HAVE A TUMBLR I CAN TALK ABOUT THIS SOMEWHERE
VERY long post ahead
Okay ghuys okay alright hear me out. Hear me out
I don’t have any art for this yet but I’ll reblog if I end up doing that thing, but! I’ve got a potential crossover au idea and I HAVE to talk about it, it’s been buzzing around in my head for MONTHS
Hollow Knight and The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals
Warning for Spoilers on both of those things!!! also swearing because TGWDLM is notorious for that
For those that don’t know:
- Hollow knight is based around an Infection that takes over the minds of bugs and essentially makes them feral
- TGWDLM is based around a parasite/alien that takes over a host’s mind (killing them) and forces them to sing in order to draw more people into the hivemind
SO... SO-
I’ve been thinking of Hollow Knight characters in the TGWDLM universe more than a vice versa, but here’s my running ideas so far!!! Featuring some shitposts because I can’t not include my dumb shitposts and funny funny moment ideas
Who would the characters be?
I don’t personally ship Hornet and Quirrel, but seeing them as Emma and Paul respectively makes the most sense to me considering the rest of the cast ehehee
Also, while it would make sense to have Ghost as the main character, I don’t want the potential implications of Hornet/Ghost shipping. Because inc*st is nasty, thank you for coming to my tedtalk
Quirrel: “PROMISE me you’ll think about the implications!”
Also Quirrel: “NOW... ARE YOU FRIGHTENED???”
Bretta is Charlotte. Bretta IS Charlotte! The only reason I came to this conclusion is because... if Bretta is Charlotte, you already know who Zote is going to be. That’s right. He’s Sam.
And you’re right again. “You Tied Up My Heart” and “Join Us (And Die)” are VERY frequently in my mind with these two!! ONE day I’m GOING to do something stupid with this. watch. WATCH me
Tiso is Ted. Because it’s funny to me to imagine him like that shdghskhgkh
On that note, Cornifer is Bill. That might seem like a weird one but hear me out listen listen: In my own arbitrary and weird headcanons of the characters, I like to imagine Cornifer and Iselda lowkey adopting Myla when the Infection has passed. Why? yes
So, of course, that means Myla is Alice. Which works out, because you only see each character about once before they end up Infected! also Myla had to have a singing role come on. “Not Your Seed” with Myla would be kickass
As for who Deb (Alice’s girlfriend) would be, see, and hear me out.... I just want Myla to have a girlfriend, Deb could be anybody, you don’t see me pointing at Cloth or anything ok
Now for the moment you’ve been waiting for: Who’s Professor Hidgens? Gonna be honest, I’ve been jumping around a LOT on this one. Part of me wants to say Monomon, because 1) Scientist/Teacher 2) “Show Stopping Number” with Monomon? yes 3) instead of Hornet/Emma suggesting they go see her teacher, it could very well be Quirrel saying “oh I’ve got this crazy professor we can go see? she’s got like a whole bunker for us to stay in.”
The original/other option is Lemm, because. literally only for funny reasons and I want Lemm to wield a gun
u kno what that means
Monomon, with a gun: “SING THE BEGINNING OF MOANA”
Quirrel, Tiso, Hornet, Cornifer: “whwhAHAAT-”
The rest’a the characters I’m still uncertain about :,)) I do like imagining Sly as General McNamara tho
Sly, throwing Quirrel’s phone across the room: “WEAR A WATCH”
As for who they’d be in a vice versa situation, I just like to imagine bugified versions of the cast but in Hallownest, with Paul probably being a vessel as he’s the one to stop the Infection
Other notes/details
The Infection would obviously be HK’s orange rather than TGWDLM’s blue in the “HK characters in TGWDLM setting” obviously heeheheee.
Monomon, holding a vial of infection: “what does that look like to you?”
Quirrel: “I dunno, some kinda orange... shit?”
Monomon: “EXACTLY, QUIRREL. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT”
As for where Hornet works (seeing as Emma works at a coffee shop in TGWDLM), I haven’t the faintest idea
BOY I’ve rambled for far too long! I had more to say, I think, but I’m. Too much i’m saying too much, and I can’t remember what else I had goin for me here hskjghkjh. See y’all later! goodbye
Please feel free to add your own ideas for this I am looking intently
#clamtalk#AU#alternate universe#crossover#crossover au#TGWDLM#the guy who didn't like musicals#tgwdlm au#hollow knight au#hk au#rambling#tw swearing#I am going OFF#back on my bullshit#now i'll just go back to reblogging funny bug posts okay bye#au idea
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Hi hi! It's been a while, so I figured I'd check in and say "hi"! How are you doing? Is everything going well for you? I don't really know much about Persona, but seeing all your AUs about it recently has gotten me interested! Any AUs or interesting things you want to talk about? What does it mean to have a palace? Oh, this is a Dumb Q but how do you think Makoto Naegi would get along in with Persona's MC(Akira?)? I hope I'm not being too weird or intrusive, and that you have a good day!
Anon, you’re not being weird or intrusive.
You’re being adorable.
I’m gonna answer both your questions now!
—
Persona 5 is a little different from the other games in how it operates.
You play as Joker. In the anime adaptation his name is Ren Amamiya, but in the manga his name is Akira Kurusu. I prefer Akira, but I’ll always tag them both.
Most persona protagonists have two canon names.
So basically Akira and the people who end up becoming his friends and teammates have a lot of terrible, corrupt adults in their lives.
They become a group called the Phantom Thirves of Heart, a group who uses a special app on their phone to enter an offset of their reality to change their hearts.
Lemme break that down.
The app is called the Metanav. It allows them to access the Metaverse. The Metaverse is a world where people’s cognitions and desires and perceptions manifest themselves.
Everyone has a shadow. Shadows have yellow eyes and look like the person they embody. They typically represent all of a person’s desires and thoughts and perceptions, but we mostly deal with the Bad ones.
In the Metaverse, some people can learn to accept their shadows and awaken to their power. They typically do this when they either break through whatever has distorted their will and perception.
We call those people persona users.
Some people do the opposite.
They lose themselves in the expectations of others or in their own corrupted desires. This twists and distorts their view of the world, forming what are known as palaces.
Take Kamoshida. The first boss.
He was an Olympic gold medalist who turned into a volleyball coach at a school. The school let him have free reign while also putting all of its hope and expectations on him to make them great.
He became harsher towards his team. Physically abusing them and sometimes sexually harassing the girls. He went so far as to ruin the track team by breaking their star player’s leg, just so the volleyball team wouldn’t be eclipsed by them.
No one dared stop him. He saw himself as the king of his castle.
So that’s what his palace became.
In the Metaverse, most of the world looks the same except for Shujin academy, the school he rules.
When using the app and entering the key words (name, location, and distortion), the player is dragged into that other world and faced with a large and imposing castle. A place where fake versions of the volleyball team get tortured through volleyball related punishments. Where random shadows are disguised as knights that live to serve their king.
There’s only one way to take down a palace and have the ruler feel remorse and guilt. To make them confess their sins.
Their treasure needs to be stolen.
In every palace lies a treasure. The source of the person’s distortions. If it’s stolen, the whole palace will come crumbling down and the person will confess in the real world.
This was a very long explanation but there you go!!
—
As for if the two would get along, I’d think so.
Akira’s a sweet guy who had a bad run. He got arrested for defending a women from getting assaulted. That record had him sent away from his home to Tokyo for a year of probation.
He’s managed to befriend a number of people who become his confidants.
Makoto would definitely be one of them.
A danganronpa and p5 crossover is now rattling around in my brain.
—
I’ve got a few AU’s that have gotten more fleshed out by the event I participated in.
One where Akira has a palace. Where the pressure put on him by his team and the constant media attention causes him to develop his own palace.
One where Akira’s mute. That’s it that’s the AU.
I’ve got more floating around but those are the two I’m proudest of.
#my post#i speak#i reply#persona 5#danganronpa#kurusu akira#akira kurusu#ren amamiya#amamiya ren#makoto naegi#naegi makoto
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THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.
fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.
My muse is: canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /
Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO? (i mean, he’s rather liked overall but there’s not that many ppl who rp him?)
Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK.
Is your character considered strong in the fandom? OH YES / NO / IDK.
Are they underrated? YES / NO.
Were they relevant for the main story? YES / NO / KIND OF?
Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG. --> hard to say. kinda yes, but then not that much. there are characters who sure were more relevant.
Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO.
How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. <-- depends who you ask, heh
How strictly do you follow canon? — In general I keep my Kenpachi close to canon, but I’m not very strict about it. I like to fill up the holes left in canon story with headcanons, and I’m open for plots that are canon-divergent as long as they simply make sense, logic-wise. I’m also willing to deviate from canon when comes to shipping -- for me it’s about chemistry and chemistry only; I have a few ships I like when comes to dynamics and such, but I wouldn’t turn down a character my Kenpachi grew to like/love only because it’s not on my ship list. Of course all the canon relationships are relevant and you can totally jump straight to the kind of interactions your character used to have with mine in the manga, but anything more than that needs to be developed first. Also, I acknowledge the relation between Kenpachi and Unohana as canon, but I see it more as a mother-child relationship; even if there’s some twisted kind of affection in it, it’s hard for me to imagine them living together as a happy little family. I know, the idea is cute, but personally I think there’s far too much bitter feelings between them so it could ever work this way.
SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals. — Uh, I’m not sure what makes Kenpachi interesting for other people as a character, so I’ll just say a few words about what could make my version of Kenpachi possibly interesting to interact with, I guess. Kenpachi is a guy not only of great power, but of great experience as well. People tend to see him as a bloodthirsty berserk with all brawn and no brains, but there’s so much more to him than meets the eye -- he’s more clever than he likes to show, and while his kind of wisdom might be not so obvious and ‘classical’ kind, he has it and he uses it both in his fights and in interactions with others. Although he might make an impression that his own strength is all he cares about, it’s only partially true. Kenpachi likes to help others become stronger and watch them grow just as much as he likes to improve his own power; he hates to see wasted potential, and he often provokes or challenges people into situations that, in his opinion, will help them to discover their strength or improve as a person. He’s not a touchy-feely guy and he hardly lets it show, but he cares about the ones who are close to him and would risk own life without a second thought to protect them -- however, this other, more private and more vulnerable side of him usually stays hidden from the world, as he’s not willing to show it to anyone except those who worked hard to gain his trust.
Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?). — Kenpachi is not interested in people who aren’t willing to fight -- not only literally, but also fight for themselves, for their goals, dreams, fight to overcome their weaknesses, their bad experiences, their fears. He has little patience for those who whine and do nothing to improve their life, so instead of support they get as much as disdainful look from him. He’s hardly interested in interacting with anyone who can’t offer him either a good fight or a good challenge of some other kind -- or a way to kill boredom at least -- and can be pretty unresponsive if the way other character approaches him doesn’t pick up his curiosity. On top of that, he can be a bit of a handful at times -- he gets annoyed pretty easily, tends to be restless and snappy when bored, he speaks before he thinks and since he’s pretty foulmouthed and pulls no punches he often hurts others even while it was not his intention.
What inspired you to rp your muse? — My muse himself. Kenpachi was my favorite character from the first time I’ve seen him (around 2008 or so), and when I discovered Bleach rp on tumblr (by accident while hunting for pics lmao) I decided to give it a shot.
What keeps your inspiration going? — I don’t really need inspiration to write him. I can do it at pretty much any time given, likely because we’re similar character-wise and it takes me like zero effort to get in his skin. The only thing I need is a rough idea for some plot and BOOM here we go. Unless it’s a chat rp, then I don’t need even this.
Some more personal questions for the mun.
Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.
Do you think you give your character justice? YES? / NO. <-- you tell me
Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO.
Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO.
Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO.
Are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO.
Are you confident in your writing? YES / NO.
Are you a sensitive person? YES / NO.
Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal? — I don’t have any problem with criticism in general. If something about my character or the way I write him bothers you, feel free to tell me. I can’t promise I’m gonna care though -- Kenpachi is a very personal muse for me, and the way I portray him sometimes can differ from other portrayals or from what’s ‘canon’ simply because he shares a lot of qualities with me as his writer. Fact that you criticized my portrayal doesn’t mean I will change a single thing about it, but sure I won’t get offended or stop interacting with you only cause you said a word or two. The only criticism I never publish/respond to is shit aimed at stirring up drama, as people who write such are not worth my time.
Do you like questions, which help you explore your character? — FUCK YEAH. Some of them really force me to think about stuff I wouldn’t have thought about otherwise, and make me discover my character anew in some places I thought I already know him ins and outs. I like all the questions, no matter the topic, and I do my best to answer them with details.
If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why? — Sure I’d be curious about what their reasoning is, like, what makes them think things aren’t the way I see them? What is their headcanon on this particular topic? Do they disagree completely, or just some part of it doesn’t lie well with them?
If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it? — Depends how they carry it out. If it’s like ‘okay i don’t think so but it’s cool, everyone can have own opinion’ it’s totally fine, i’m far too old to bang heads over such silly shit (there’s no ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ portrayal btw -- everyone does it their own way and there’s nothing to whine about). If they come to my askbox solely with the purpose to pester me about it, and do it in a way that makes me question their age and/or mental health, I’m gonna block their ass out of existence.
If someone really hates your character, how do you take it? — I don’t care and it’s highly unlikely I’ll ever notice they do unless they make effort to bring it to my inbox. In the end it’s their problem, not mine; I’m just gonna continue doing my thing while they’ll be wasting time and energy on writing shit nobody cares about.
Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors? — Sure. English ain’t my native so if I write something that makes no sense just lemme know -- it’s a way to learn, too, and if you tell me there’s a chance I don’t make the same mistake again.
Do you think you are easy going as a mun? — Yeah, I’m pretty laidback and I don’t give a flying fuck about 99% of things that tend to raise a lot of hackles. It’s nearly impossible to offend me, and I have a lot of understanding for the fact other people have their own lives, likes, problems, ideas, families, health issues, work routines and whatnot, so I never pester anyone for replies or anything rp related. However, I’m a confirmed extrovert in this kingdom of introverts which is tumblr, so I tend to hang out on Discord/chats a lot and then think I must be a fucking pain in the rear for my more introverted friends cause I’m always the one to message them first, and it makes me want to melt into a sad pool of shame for being such a needy fucktard.
tagged by: @hirako5hinji [thank you!]
Not sure who did it already, so if you see it on your dash and wanna do it, feel tagged B]
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Disaster disaster chatfic (v3 HPA AU)
I… I made a chatfic tie-in of my HPA AU. It’s to make up for the lack of exposure of the other v3 kids in the comics ;w; also, chat fics are fun (and easier) to write (since my strength is with dialogue– I’m not really good at writing descriptions that’s why i just draw them lol)
The groupchat was created around 2 weeks after the start of classes.
04/21/18 07:19PM
Akamatsu Kaede added Saihara Shuichi, Yonaga Angie, Chabashira Tenko, Harukawa Maki and 11 others to the chat.
Ouma Kokichi: WHOMSTVE???
Iruma Miu: WHAT IS UP FUCKERSSS
Harukawa Maki: for what is this, akamatsu?
Akamatsu Kaede: Hi guys!! I just thought that a group chat would be a great way to even get to know each other.
Ouma Kokichi: we live in a dorm together, we all go to class together… what MORE do you want piano baka
Amami Rantaro: she just needs an excuse to talk to a someone
Yonaga Angie: oooh Angie wonders who that might be~~
Akamatsu Kaede: Amami-kun, shut
Akamatsu Kaede: Okay, maybe a groupchat is redundant but
Akamatsu Kaede: the upperclassmen have one per class and it sounds fun??
Harukawa Maki: they're just going to use this to send each other memes
Ouma Kokichi: spot on assassin-chan!! you know us so well already, how sweet
Harukawa Maki: die
Momota Kaito: harumaki we talked about this
Harukawa Maki: but this is Ouma we’re talking about
Momota Kaito: fair enough
Ouma Kokichi: OI
Akamatsu Kaede: Okay, I don’t mind you guys using this to fool around but please don’t text during class!!
Iruma Miu: booooring,,, didnt think ud be a stick in the mud bakamatsu
Ouma Kokichi: yea ikr
Ouma Kokichi: lets fix that
Ouma Kokichi removed Akamatsu Kaede from the chat
Iruma Miu: LOL
Amami Rantaro: what a power move
Saihara Shuichi: Please don’t be mean to Kaede-san, she’s doing her best
Saihara Shuichi added Akamatsu Kaede to the chat
Shirogane Tsumugi: Saihara-kun used lesser revival potion! Akamatsu-san’s back with 25% HP
Akamatsu Kaede: this was a mistake, making this groupchat and being resurrected
Gokuhara Gonta: Hello everyone! Gonta just went online and is happy to see that we have a groupchat! Gonta wants to be better friends with everyone!
Akamatsu Kaede: Actually! I regret nothing now.
Saihara Shuichi: Hi Gonta-kun
Harukawa Maki: finally this groupchat seems bearable
Shirogane Tsumugi: Gonta-kun is best boy!
Gokuhara Gonta: Thank you Shirogane-san!
Ouma Kokichi: k this is getting boring so lemme spice it up a bit
Ouma Kokichi changed Ouma Kokichi to Lord Panta
Amami Rantaro: first sign of the apocalypse
Lord Panta changed Amami Rantaro to imma meme
imma meme: no complaints here
imma meme: its pretty bland actually,,
Lord Panta: is that a challenge
imma meme: if you're going to make an avocado reference then don't bother
Lord Panta: damn
Lord Panta: i'll think of something better but for now youre a meme lord
Lord Panta changed Harukawa Maki to stabs ppl
Lord Panta changed Momota Kaito to stab me Maki
stabs ppl: fuck you Ouma
stab me Maki: u lil shit
Lord Panta: boi im bein a wingman here
Shirogane Tsumugi: Let their romantic development happen naturally!!
stab me Maki: yeah what she said
Lord Panta: whatever boring ppl
stab me Maki changed stabs ppl to Maki Roll
stab me Maki changed stab me Maki to starlord
Lord Panta: rly wanted to strangle starlord in Infinity War ykno
Maki Roll: I still dislike this name but its kind of Ok
starlord: :D
Chabashira Tenko: I go online and this is what welcomes me
Chabashira Tenko: a degenerate harassing a beautiful girl
starlord: i wasnt harassing harumaki!!!!
Lord Panta: tone down the gay there chabs u already have yumeno-chan
Yumeno Himiko: ….....nyeh
Chabashira Tenko: gtfo shota
Chabashira Tenko: And dont call me chabs
Lord Panta changed Yumeno Himiko to Jingle Jangle
Jingle Jangle: …......thanks..... i hate it
Shirogane Tsumugi: do you still watch that hot mess of a series
Lord Panta: nah stopped watching ages ago, thats the last time im taking series recommendations from Angie-chan
Yonaga Angie: Pardon my french but Atua says you're a b i t c h (ಠ_ಠ)
Shirogane Tsumugi: how much of the audience do you think would get that reference then
starlord: shirogane wat
Jingle Jangle changed Chabashira Tenko to chaotic lesbean
Jingle Jangle changed Jingle Jangle to Do You Believe In Magic
chaotic lesbean: Tenko loves it!! thank you yumeno-chan <3
Do You Believe In Magic: np.............
Lord Panta: wow is it me or is the atmosphere here getting gay
Lord Panta: hey hey akamatsu-chan did you intend for this to be a breeding ground for couples
Akamatsu Kaede: No???
Saihara Shuichi: Don't mind him, he's just bitter he doesn't have anyone to be gay with
Akamatsu Kaede: hasahshhaha OMG
imma meme: asdndals;dskbdbjk
Lord Panta: SAIHARA-CHAN HOW DARE U
Yonaga Angie: Even Atua did not see that coming!
starlord: hahahahaha thats my sidekick!!
Iruma Miu: HAH GET REKT LIL ABORTION
Maki Roll: nice
Lord Panta: i'll have you know i have ranty!!
Lord Panta: right babe? ;)
imma meme: went offline
Lord Panta: >:C
Lord Panta: hmph back to name changing then
Lord Panta changed Akamatsu Kaede to dumb blonde
Lord Panta changed Iruma Miu to dumb blonde slut
dumb blonde slut: h-huh
dumb blonde: OUMA-KUN
Saihara Shuichi changed dumb blonde to Treblemaker
Saihara Shuichi: I gotchu
Treblemaker: Thanks Shuichi-kun!
dumb blonde slut: hey what about me
Yonaga Angie changed Yonaga Angie to bitch I am the WAY
bitch I am the WAY: (◔◡◔✿)
Shinguji Korekiyo: Well this has been an interesting conversation so far.
dumb blonde slut: whoop the stalker's here
Shinguji Korekiyo: I've always been here, from the very beginning. Just... Watching.
chaotic lesbean: Tenko is filing a restraining order tomorrow
bitch I am the WAY: Also!! Angie thinks your nickname suits you Miu!~ Atua does, too~~
dumb blonde slut: eeeeehhhh
Treblemaker changed Saihara Shuichi to The Only Hope For Me Is You
The Only Hope For Me Is You: eeeeyy thanks Kaede-san!
Lord Panta: geez we get it, you're both so gay for each other
dumb blonde slut: someone's salty
Treblemaker: What no
Treblemaker: I am gay tho
Lord Panta: OwO)???
chaotic lesbean: GLORIOUS NEWS!!!!!!!
Maki Roll: isn't @The Only Hope For Me Is You an MCR song?
The Only Hope For Me Is You: Harukawa-san gets it
imma meme: “Still in their Emo Phase” Solidarity!!
Maki Roll: not another word from you Amami
Do You Believe In Magic changed Shinguji Korekiyo to Kork
Kork: …
Kork: I suppose this will suffice.
Kork: It's not as tasteless as Iruma-san's nickname.
dumb blonde slut: EEEHHHHHHH
bitch I am the WAY: she is truly screaming
Maki Roll: it's bordering on a moan actually
Idabashi Keebo: I hear an unsettling distress call... what seems to be the problem?
starlord: theres no problem keebs just ignore it
Gokuhara Gonta: Hello Keebo!
Idabashi Keebo: Greetings, Gonta-kun.
Shirogane Tsumugi: This is so Pure™
Lord Panta: Do you ship it
Shirogane Tsumugi: stop
Shirogane Tsumugi changed Shirogane Tsumugi to [anime reference]
Lord Panta: ehhh boring!!
Lord Panta changed Idabashi Keebo to Do Robots Have Dicks
Lord Panta changed [anime reference] to Nani the FUCK
Nani the FUCK: kdajkdjdsl; OUMA
imma meme changed Nani the FUCK to Weeaboo Mastermind
Weeaboo Mastermind: Rantaro-kun you baka we're Japanese
imma meme: ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)
Do You Believe in Magic changed Weeaboo Mastermind to ShirogaNYEH
imma meme: HAHAHAHAHA ACCEPTABLE
chaotic lesbean: that's wonderful yumeno-chan!
ShirogaNYEH: this will do for now I guess ;w;
Do Robots Have Dicks: I do not like this name :(
Lord Panta: its a valid question keeboy
starlord: why do i hear sobbing from the next room
Treblemaker: Look what you've done Ouma-kun
chaotic lesbean: do you want Tenko to break his legs
Treblemaker: Uh, no need Chabashira-san!
Treblemaker changed Do Robots Have Dicks to Robot Rights Activist
Robot Rights Activist: Thank you Akamatsu-san!
Robot Rights Activist: I am sorry for crying
ShirogaNYEH: constant mood
Robot Rights Activist: But next time I won't be tolerant of such discrimination against my robotic creations!
Lord Panta: whatevs
Tojo Kirumi: A pleasant evening to everyone. I just got back from grocery shopping and re-stocked the pantry. If any of you require my assistance, you may reach out to me through this group chat.
The Only Hope For Me Is You: Welcome back Tojo-san
Lord Panta: MOM!!! did you get me something from mcdonalds??
Tojo Kirumi: I told you, we have food here.
Treblemaker: She did buy a single black coffee from Mcdo though
Kork: Well then
chaotic lesbean: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
starlord: SHE JUST MEME'D IRL
imma meme: MOM KNOWS HOW TO MEME AKJSAJJDSK
Lord Panta: uuuuuuuuuuu eeven mmom is bullyinnng mmmme :'((((
Lord Panta: i hhaaaate thiisss faaaamilyyy uuuwaaaaaaaaa
Maki Roll: then leave
Lord Panta: wow no need to be a cunt, harumaki
starlord: oy im the only one who can call her that!!
Maki Roll: only Momota can call me that
Lord Panta: cunt or harumaki???
Maki Roll removed Lord Panta from the chat
starlord: NICE
ShirogaNYEH: I SHIP IT
Maki Roll: do you want to die shirogane
ShirogaNYEH: I'M SORRY BLS DONT KILL ME
Kork: Good riddance.
Do You Believe In Magic changed Tojo Kirumi to Mother Knows Best
Mother Knows Best: I suppose I will just have to contend with this nickname as most of you do act like children.
Imma meme: dont worry tojo-san, akamatsu-san will be there with you every step of the way :3
imma meme: OH SHIT SHES BREAKING INTO MY ROkjdjksfbjksdkladladhrwt4eqio
chaotic lesbean: he's good as dead im sure
The Only Hope For Me is You: Uh where's Hoshi-kun? He hasn't said anything yet, I'm worried...
Gokuhara Gonta: Oh! No need to worry Saihara-kun! Hoshi-kun is with Gonta out the garden, he didn't bring his phone that's why he is silent here!
Gokuhara Gonta: We are catching some fireflies!
The Only Hope For Me Is You: That is so pure oh my gosh
starlord: its not manly but there are legit real tears in my eyes
chaotic lesbean: you must be protected at all costs!!! the only non-degenerate male here
The Only Hope For Me Is You added Lord Panta to the chat
chaotic lesbean: WHY
Lord Panta: IM BACK BITCHES I KNOW YALL MISS ME
starlord: this betrayal... whyd u do it sai
The Only Hope For Me Is You: I'm sorry, I'm not... strong enough
starlord: and this will make you strong??
Lord Panta: he means hes not strong enough to resist my charms *finger guns*
starlord: sure jan
The Only Hope For Me Is You: He's right
Lord Panta: wait rly??????
bitch I am the WAY: Atua did not see this coming too!
–
nickname guide
Lord Panta: Ouma
The Only Hope For Me Is You: Saihara
Treblemaker: Akamatsu
bitch I am the WAY: Yonaga
starlord: momota
shirogaNYEH: shirogane
Mother Knows Best: tojo
imma meme: amami
Maki Roll: harukawa
Do You Believe In Magic: yumeno
chaotic lesbean: chabashira
Kork: shinguji
Robot Rights Activist: idabashi
dumb blonde slut: iruma
N/A yet: gokuhara & hoshi
NDRV3 HPA AU Character Design Masterlist here
and background information here
[Facebook] [Instagram] [Twitter] [Blogger] [Kofi]
will probs post this on AO3 too idk lol
#ndrv3#new danganronpa v3#kaede akamatsu#shuichi saihara#kokichi ouma#kaito momota#maki harukawa#kirumi tojo#angie yonaga#tenko chabashira#himiko yumeno#rantaro amami#tsumugi shirogane#kiibo idabashi#gonta gokuhara#ryoma hoshi#miu iruma#korekiyo shinguji#lou .write#hopes peak academy AU#ndrv3 HPA AU#pairings are well#oumasai#kaerumi#tenmiko#harukaito#lol edits happen when they happen#danganronpa#i just notice my mistakes after publishing#chatfic
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Chapter Four
BTS Outsiders AU
Word Count: 2.1K
Trigger Warning: _
Previous Chapter < > Next Chapter
Song: Golden by Morning TV
Rose
I picked at the mushy lunch food as I looked around the lunch table. Taehyung and I sat in silence as Jin and Jimin laughed about something dumb one of their friends did.
“Like, really, who the hell does something like that?” Jimin laughed.
“I know, right? That’s what I told him, and he still doesn’t listen.” Jin added.
Jimin laughed, “What do you think, Rose?... Rose?”
I suddenly realized he was talking to me, “Uh… what? Sorry, what were you saying?” I asked.
Jimin smiled compassionately, “I was saying-”
“Hey! Watch it, freak!” Jin shouted.
“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to!” The girl apologized, walking away quickly.
I looked around Jimin and saw Taehyung’s bag tipped over, with all of the contents spilled out. She probably just kicked it.
“Jin, don’t worry about it. It was an accident.” Taehyung said quietly as he put his stuff back in his bag. I noticed a small box on the floor.
“Tae!” I whispered and gestured to the box. He seemed confused at first but his eyes widened when he saw it, ‘Tape’ he mouthed back.
“Am I missing something here? What’s going on?” Jimin asked.
“Oh, nothing.” I replied a bit too quickly.
“Rose, don’t lie to me, you guys have been acting weird ever since the assembly. What happened that I don’t know about?”
“Jimin, really. It’s nothing. We were just… upset about what happened to Jungkook.” I lied.
“Upset? You barely knew him. Rose, tell me the truth.” Jimin pushed on.
“Listen, if you guys are gonna have one of your couple fights, do it out in the hall.” Jin interrupted.
I sighed and took Jimin’s hand. I led him out to the hallway, I turned around to see Taehyung nod at me. I knew I had to tell him.
“Okay, now that we’re out here, what’s going on?” Jimin asked impatiently.
“Look, Jimin, I-”
“Are you cheating on me with Tae?” Jimin asked quickly with tears in his eyes.
“What? No! Oh my god, no, no no! Never!” I assured him. He quickly got over it sighed in relief, “Okay, then what?”
“The other day, when Tae was at his locker, he found a tape.”
“A tape?” Jimin repeated.
“Yes, a tape. When we played it back, it was a video of Jungkook, the day he died.”
“No way.” Jimin said, wide eyed, “Did it show…?”
“Yeah, um… listen, you have to promise me to not tell anyone about this.”
“I swear on my life.” He promised quietly as he took my hand.
“Okay... Jungkook didn’t commit suicide. Someone killed him. They made him drop the camera, and right before they shot him, they filmed his body and the message.”
“Just like what my dad said… What did the message say?” He asked hesitantly.
“It said ‘I’m sorry’. I’m not sure if they were trying to frame his suicide or if the murderer himself meant it.”
“Why would he be sorry? If he didn’t want to kill Jungkook, why didn’t he just… not kill him?”
“Jimin, I don’t know. Before he attacked him, Jungkook said hi to him, and he talked to him like they were friends. But the tape cut out any parts where he would’ve responded.”
“This is way too sketchy… Does anyone else know besides you and Tae?” Jimin asked.
“Um, yeah. You can’t tell Jin, he’ll kill us, but we went to this Greaser’s house.”
“Wait, you what?” Jimin asked with a hint of anger in his voice.
“Yeah, his name is Namjoon. He knew Jungkook. I’m not sure what he can do with the tapes, but he might be able to help.” I explained hesitantly.
“Tapes? You mean there’s more?”
“Tae just found one in his bag, when it was tipped over just now. We’ll probably bring it to Namjoon after school and watch it.”
Jimin stayed quiet for a moment, “I want to come with.”
“What? No you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. You don’t know this Namjoon guy. He could be some sort of escaped convict or something!”
“I’m pretty sure he isn’t an escaped convict. Jimin, he’s chill and from what I’ve seen of him, he isn’t looking for trouble with us Socs.”
Jimin looked around, and looked back into the cafeteria. I saw Jin smile and wink at us and turn to say something to Tae. Jimin sighed, “Fine, but I still want to come with.”
I drove up to Namjoon house slowly, checking to see if anymore cars were here. I didn’t see any other than the one parked lazily next to the entrance.
“So… What’s this guy like?” Jimin asked, “Is there anything I should know before we go in there, guns blazing?”
“‘Guns blazing’? Really Jimin? We’re just gonna go in there, watch the tape, and see if he can do anything with it.” Taehyung explained.
“Why would he know what to do? Shouldn’t we just bring it to the police? You know my dad’s a cop, maybe he can help if I-”
“No, Jimin! You don’t get it, the cops already looked for signs and clues of a murderer, they found nothing! If we gave them these it would make us look like we were the ones that did it anyways.” I told him.
“Okay, yeah… Let’s just go in already.”
As we walked up to the door we could hear people talking and laughing from inside the house. I peeked through the window and saw the people from the other day inside the kitchen talking. I couldn’t remember their names exactly… Mary and something that started with an H?
“Oh shit, Marie and Hoseok are here, maybe it’s best if we come back later.” Taehyung stepped back.
“Too late.” Jimin said as he knocked on the door. I could see Marie turn around and go to answer the door.
“Um… hello? Is there something you guys need?” She asked awkwardly.
“Yeah, is Namjoon here?” Jimin asked confidently. Hoseok eyed him suspiciously, “Lemme go check.” He said as he walked to some room in the house.
“So who’s this one?” Marie asked, gesturing to Jimin. Before Taehyung or I could say anything, Jimin introduced himself.
“Hello, I’m Jimin Park. Rose’s boyfriend. Who are you?” He asked in a tone that sounded more like an insult than a question.
“I’m Marie. That’s all you need to know.” She glared at him. Hoseok came back with Namjoon, who’s eyes widened when he noticed us.
“You’re back! Did you find another…?”
“Yeah, we haven’t watched it yet. I found it in my bag today during lunch.” Taehyung explained.
“So it clearly isn’t a mistake that you’re getting these tapes… But who’s putting them there?” Namjoon wondered.
“Maybe someone saw the murderer kill Jungkook.” Marie suggested.
“Or maybe it’s the murderer himself that’s been planting the tapes.” Jimin said.
“I kind of doubt it.” Hoseok replied.
“Let’s just watch the tape already!” Taehyung shouted as he took out the camcorder.
“Turn that damn thing off!” Someone laughed behind a black screen. A hand moved away and it revealed a smiling Hoseok looking at whoever was behind the camera. They were sitting at a diner, a soft chatter in the filling background sound.
“Oh come on, you love the attention.” The person behind the camera said, most likely Jungkook.
Hoseok shook his head, “You’re not wrong.”
“Hey, hey, hey! Look at what we got here!” A deep voice boomed off camera. Hoseok looked up with a dark expression.
“Mind your own damn business, we haven’t done nothing.” Hoseok growled.
“Sorry buddy, but I ain’t scared of a couple o’ Greasers.” The man threatened. Hoseok kept staring at him intensely.
The camera started shaking, “What’s this little toy you got here?” The voice asked, “Hey! That’s not yours- let it go!” Jungkook shouted. The camera was pulled back and forth before it was raised into the air with a ‘thump’ sound.
“Not so tough, are ya, little guy?”
The camera was panned at the tiled ground, and a few small feet walked up to whoever was holding the camera, “Is that your camera, young man?” An older woman’s voice asked.
“Um, ma’am, I-” He stuttered.
“Give the boy back his camera, or I’ll kick you and your friends out right this minute.” She scolded him.
“Alright, ma’am, It won’t be a problem again.” He set the camera down, which showed half of Hoseok’s face. He was serious, yet looked surprised, as if no one had ever done this for them before.
Soft footsteps walked away, but Hoseok still looked serious. A chorus of conversations grew louder, it sounded like teenage boys.
“Henry! These guys giving you any trouble?” One asked.
“Nah. Let’s just get out of here.” He answered.
The group of boys left, and while Hoseok’s serious and hardened look faded, a more angry one took its place.
“Those bastards, I’d like to see them actually own up to anything their dumbasses get them into.” Hoseok commented under his breath.
“Yeah, it was kind of pathetic to see how easily he gave up when that lady showed up.” Jungkook agreed.
“Hey, if they ever mess with you like that and I’m not around, tell me. I’ll kill them if that’s what it takes.” Hoseok threatened.
Jungkook laughed nervously, “I don’t think you need to go that far, but a good spook wouldn’t hurt.”
“I just don’t want them picking on you like that, Kook.”
“Thanks, Hobi.”
I looked up and saw that Hoseok had tears in his eyes.
“Why would someone…?” Taehyung trailed off.
“I think they’re setting up something bigger. This definitely isn’t the last tape.” Namjoon said.
I noticed that Marie had stood up with Hoseok and gone to the kitchen. He was crying silently as she was saying something to him that I couldn’t hear.
Marie
“Hoseok…” I looked up to see Hoseok leaning against the kitchen counter, him covering his face with one of his hands.
“This tape must’ve meant a lot to you.”
“No kidding.” He answered sharply, peering up from his covered tear stained face and looked at me into my eyes.
“I… I miss him.” Hoseok confessed, fiddling with one of the silverware he found nearby.
I grabbed the spoon he was holding and put it aside. “We all miss him, Hoseok.”
“You don’t-” He was interrupted by some murmuring coming from the living room. “You just don’t understand how I feel.”
“Hobi, what do I not understand about it? That Kookie was murdered and someone involved with this mess is sending some Soc that we don’t even know tapes? Of course I understand how you are feeling.” I remarked. “Jungkook was our family. I even considered him a little brother.”
“I think we all did.”
“Also… “ I pondered for a bit, trying to change the subject. “Maybe we should go back in the living room and invite Taehyung and Rose for dinner.”
“Yes! I mean yeah, why not.”
“I never realized I missed him so much.” I remarked, before walking back into the living room. I glanced at an old picture of Jungkook on Namjoon’s fridge. He was about eight then, playing in one of the sand hills by his old house. He was so happy and full of life. Suddenly I came to realization that that was the same boy that was shot not too long ago.
“He was murdered, Hoseok.”
We all sat at the dinner table facing one another uncomfortably. Uncoincidentally all the Socs sat on one side and Hoseok and I sat at the other. Namjoon sighed as he set down the pot of spaghetti.
“What do guys want to drink? There’s not many options…” He ran over to check the fridge. “We got water and a pack of SD.”
As Namjoon mentioned the soda ‘SD’, Hoseok tensed up. “Uh I’ll have an SD.”
“I’ll have one too,” Jimin added.
I glanced at Hoseok. His eyes were shifted onto one of the SD cans inside the living room. “Make that three.”
“Could we both get water?” Rose insisted.
“On it!” Namjoon chimed in with the armful of beverages. As he set down Hoseok’s SD, he shifted in his seat. He murmured something underneath his breath that sounded something like ‘I can’t take this’ or ‘I can’t do this anymore’. Whatever he had whispered sounded concerning.
Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by him bolting out of his chair and into the bathroom.
“Uh he must’ve really had to go then.” Jimin remarked.
“Really Jimin?” Taehyung and Rose said simultaneously.
Ignoring their retorts to one another I looked back at the bathroom door. It felt as if he was scared of the drink. Why would anyone be that terrified of SD?
#bts#bangtan seonyeondan#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts outsiders au#outsiders#outsiders au#socs#greasers#the outsiders#jin#kim seokjin#yoongi#min yoongi#suga#rm#namjoon#kim namjoon#hoseok#jung hoseok#jhope#jimin#park jimin#taehyung#kim taehyung#jungkook#v#jeon jungkook
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Could you share some of your headcanons for shadow?
!yes! i can! all these shadow asks, yall are killing me, letting me talk about my trash boy so much, you need to stop, (keep doing it)
i’ll shove this under a readmore because it ended at a whopping 1700 words, you guys are really indulging me
-shadow smiles a lot. don’t mistake it for happiness, or friendliness, or really anything benevolent. at least not at first. the dark world is very different in their customs and etiquettes, models them more so after… not animals, but natural instinct, as it were. so smiling, where shadow comes from, makes a statement: i’m stronger than you, i am in a place to taunt you without fearing for myself, i am challenging you to challenge me. things of that nature. shadow knows that with his magic he is far more powerful than the majority of hylians, save for zelda and perhaps the links. so in a post-manga situation where he has his magic still, he is CONSTANTLY grinning at people. he knows he has the upper hand, always. he has to be watched carefully, in the event that someone irritates him. on the flip side, though, if it’s a post-manga situation in which he’s without his magic, for whatever reason- too weak to use it, no source in Hyrule, lost the ability when he was revived- he’s very solemn. magic was his entire fighting style, in the dark world and hyrule; if he doesn’t have that, he knows he’s in no place to go around offering challenges. the way he sees it he may as well tape a ‘KILL ME’ sign to his forehead.
-expanding on this: he feels very intimidated in hyrule at first, especially if he’s been reincarnated without his powers. he doesn’t understand the customs of hylians, doesn’t know just how different they are from the dark world’s. so imagine walking outside, and everyone’s threatening you. everywhere you look there’s someone inviting you to die. that’s what he sees, before he knows the connotation hylians have assigned smiling; everyone’s threatening him, and everyone’s MOCKING him. and he hates to be mocked, as we all know.
-shadow can dish it but he can’t take it. it’s just a simple truth. physically, of course, is one thing- he can take a beating just fine. it’s a survival skill, in the dark world. trading insults is very, very different. he’ll go around on his perceived authority taunting people, joking at their expense (and meaning every harsh word of it), but hylia forbid anyone do it back. this is where he and vio run into a LOT of conflict. vio is very sassy. shadow wants to remark on him, or the other links, or zelda? vio’s got one ready for him, and he refuses to take any shit. so of course shadow gets pissy, and would very much love to fight, except that if he wants to stay alive and in hyrule he’s going to have to learn that that behavior isn’t acceptable. (to some people’s surprise, red is also very good at keeping shadow in line, but the difference between vio and red is that shadow knows that if he gives red so much as a paper cut the entire continent of hyrule will call for his banishment immediately. red exploits that.)
-he’s very dramatic. that comes as a surprise to no one, i’m sure. but christ, can that kid put on an act. like, his gestures, his speech, his reactions, even the way he fights- it’s with a flourish, always, and very exaggerated. at first it’s extremely irritating; later, when he’s settled down a bit (a lot) more and really started to fit with the group, it’s very funny. watching him deal with enemies, or perhaps not enemies but hostile foreigners, is like watching a soap opera. if they need deceit, depending on the situation they choose from red, vio, or him- whatever’s most called for. it’s red if they need gentle (or guilt-trippy) persuasion, vio if they’re looking for very rational and levelheaded (and sometimes under-the-table) negotiations, and it’s shadow if they want a charade and a lot of blatant lies. he’s very good at convincing people of even the most ridiculous fabrications. he can act earnest and open with alarming sincerity.
-again, unsurprisingly, shadow is a trickster. april fools’ day is his favorite holiday. it’s his favorite thing ever, because it’s a socially acceptable day of being as awful as he’s legally allowed to be. and he can set up some really elaborate stuff. think rube-goldberg machines where every single step is a prank on someone. sometimes even the same person each time. his acting skills help a lot in pulling it off- the only problem is that no one trusts him one hundred percent. but he gets away with too much by blaming it on someone they won’t get as mad at.
-he can read people very well. body language is extremely important to understand in the dark world. he reads the room, he just doesn’t care. he’ll start things on purpose just to watch the fallout.
-in a situation where he’s allied with them during a time of war, he’s a reluctant shoe-in for tactical positions. him and vio, because vio has the practical knowledge and shadow has all sorts of BRUTAL applications. he kind of has to scale it back so he isn’t convicted of any war crimes (stupid idea, if you ask shadow, it’s WAR). but he can come up with some MEAN stuff. traps, fortifications, offensive strategies, especially TRAPS, he’s got a mental list a hundred miles long, and that’s probably just the stuff he’s used already.
-he makes for an excellent spy, for reasons mentioned above and because he’s very well-known, for better or for worse. you’re probably thinking, why would you want a spy that’s well known? two answers, one hinging upon the kind of au: first, if he still has his magic, he can just shapeshift. animorph into another person, and another, and another, so he just seems like a drifter. and even if he doesn’t have that, if nothing else, he can always fall back on his reputation: his origin was as a commander in the war against Hyrule. “hey,” he can say, “all this ‘playing nice’ shit is boring, lemme in so i can bomb something.” 99% of the time, boom, he’s in. that other 1%? he’ll just wreak havoc on the encampment and leave. it’s a win-win. espionage is his middle name and also his favorite word.
-pyrotechnics. like, say that one word and he’ll come running. or teleporting. it depends. it is another of his capital-favorite FAVORITE things. why else do you think he took up residence in the fire temple, of all places? he can list off every known natural way to bring about a fire or, better, an explosion, and he’s very talented at rigging bombs from very little. it’s a little unnerving, watching him working at an explosive. he’s positively gleeful.
-ranged weapons are nice and all, but he prefers the melee ones, the up-close-and-personal nasty little pieces of work. like, serrated daggers, scythes, bludgeons, maces, even a flail of some kind, anything that’s really gonna make a mess. he has a lot of fun with axes; battleaxes, poleaxes and halberds, that sort of thing. he likes to customize.
-dumb impulsive idiot that he is, he rarely ever wears armor or even uses a shield. with magic there’s little need for it, but even without it he really doesn’t care. “can’t hurt me if i kill them,” he says, and charges with reckless abandon, and almost always gets at least one (1) stab wound as a result. he has a high pain threshold and often doesn’t realize until afterwards, when he’s lightheaded and his tunic’s stuck to his side with dried blood. everyone scolds him mercilessly. he keeps doing it anyway.
-because of poor circulation and also just because he’s made differently, shadow is always cold to the touch. like, have him hold your lukewarm drink for a few minutes, by the time you come back for it it’ll be chilled, and probably also full of salt or something. please don’t trust shadow with anything you plan to ingest.
-on that note, don’t let shadow into any kitchen unless you’re trying to destroy it. like, no jokes, they once sent shadow to infiltrate and break down an encampment by posing as a chef. he came back two hours later grinning and covered in ash.
-funny enough, in stark contrast to the personality he puts out to everyone, he’s very clingy, in that he’s got some serious abandonment issues. he’s a stranger in a strange land where most if not all people despise him, he doesn’t understand their customs, he doesn’t know anyone, and he was left behind countless times where he came from. once he really gets comfortable with the links they become his anchor, almost; he can’t stand the thought of being ditched again, so he sticks VERY closely with them.
-he will eat ANYTHING. anything. he doesn’t care. at all. everyone’s sure his taste buds are dead.
-that isn’t true. his favorite things are spicy. like, fatally spicy, the stuff that’d probably kill just about anyone else. he challenges the wing chef to make the spiciest wings possible. the chef brings him a plate of raw ghost peppers. he eats them all and asks for more. the chef cries. it’s terrifying.
-because of how common underhanded tactics are in the dark world, its residents have developed to a large degree a resistance to poison. shadow is no exception; there are very few toxins that would actually be able to do more than put him in bed for a few hours. so he’s used as the poison-tester in pretty much every event under scrutiny. he’ll know if the poison’s there- he can taste it, he just won’t feel any of its effects; the worst he’s gotten was a stomachache, and that was from something that can kill ten full-grown men with a drop. and if he tastes it, honestly, he won’t even say anything. he’ll just laugh, watching the smug little face of whoever did it. because he knows. he can tell.
-he’s a morbid little fuck and usually ends up laughing in the face of death, like when he’s seriously injured. really, when it boils down to it, everyone is simultaneously worried for him and terrified of him.
#four swords#shadow link#my headcanons#yall are so GOOD to me#letting me ramble on about these guys#i love talking about this stuff#(also pssst i need more asks!)#(for the drabble stuff!)#(or just hcs/discussions/aus in general)#(im very talkative and write-y lately!)
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Next installment of @silvervictory‘s fun AU in fic form! Shout out to her for the AU, of course, but also for the doodles and talking me out of filling this dialogue with radical Nineties lingo~
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
Words: 2k
By the time they got to the office, Ritsu was beginning to regret his decision to let the entity stay in control; having Mob in a coma would have been inconvenient, but it wouldn’t have been so god damn obnoxious.
Dimple had to nudge him into motion after his brother’s body had spat out a few more expletives and telekinetically hurled the offending chunk of concrete to the next town. When the form started walking down the sidewalk, it still did look like his brother. After a moment, though, Ritsu realized it was too stiff. Mob was composed and proper in his posture, yes, but this being kept its back straight, its knees locked, and its fingers splayed. Each step seemed deliberate, yet together they lacked rhythm.
Ritsu caught up easily, walking next to it, just out of arm’s reach. “Um…. You haven’t hurt my brother’s body already…have you?” he asked, hoping the naggings of worry weren’t obvious.
“Shut up,” it snapped. His brother’s mouth twisted into a scowl the teen hadn’t ever imagined seeing on Mob’s face. “I haven’t had to move on a physical plane in a while. Yeesh, give a god a break, why dontcha?”
Well now, Ritsu knew for a fact that wasn’t true. “But you’ve been on this ‘physical plane’ before. I’ve seen you take over Shigeo. Just a few months ago, too, at Black Vinegar.”
“Arguing with half the facts again already, kid? It’s not like I’d show up for a stroll through the park. Those were all a psychic show; no tedious movement involved.” It stopped, rolling its eyes and wrinkling its nose. “Right. Fuck it. That’s enough ‘human’ for now.”
The kaleidoscope of an aura folded out around his brother’s frame. Expecting the brightness of Mob’s blues, Ritsu shied away when it instead appeared as dark as charcoal. It didn’t capture the light to create the void from his nightmares, but it did pulse and roil with hidden energy. That’s not what his brother’s aura should look like.
It smirked at his discomfort. “Walking’s dumb. You just keep catching yourself before completely falling over. Too complicated.” It rested its chin in its hand as it crossed its legs, bobbing suspended in midair. “Why walk when you can fly?”
Ritsu sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why walk,” he grumbled. “Because! Most people, I’ll have you know, can’t fly. It’s normal to walk.” He swept a hand at the ground between them. “For example, a sidewalk. So please, if you’re going to try to be human, just walk normally. We don’t have far to go.”
It raised his brother’s eyebrows beneath his hair. “Being human is acting normally?” it asked, incredulous. “Then, if using psychic powers isn’t normal….” It pointed at its face, aghast. “Are you saying your brother isn’t human? Oh, for shame!”
It turned and floated down the street, shaking its head as it left Ritsu sputtering for a response in its wake. “Wha— no! You know damn well what I meant! Don’t twist my words like that!” he shouted after it. “The hell is this guy’s problem, Dimple?”
Met with silence, he realized the ghost had saved his own (lack of) skin and slipped away while they were distracted. “Lucky bastard,” Ritsu hissed before he trudged after his pseudo-brother.
“See, Ritsu? You’re so slow, stuck to that ground of yours.” It uncrossed his brother’s legs, letting them sway a few inches above the concrete, hands nestled in its pockets. Mob’s schoolbag drifted lazily behind it. “You people must’ve known that, inventing airplanes and whatnot. Why don’t you get some kind of personal airplane? Some kind of normal, non-psychic way to fly?”
“It’s not that easy,” the teen said. He stared ahead, refusing to look at it.
“Ah yes, the folly of technology. Then what about bicycles, hm? Those are easy. Why not bike everywhere? Or even those dumb shoes with the wheels? Why condemn yourself to such a pitiful mode of physical displacement?”
Ritsu shot it a glare. It didn’t actually look as demeaning as he had pictured, but that smirk still meant it knew he was getting more annoyed by the second. “If I answer you, will you answer me?” he tested.
“Tch.”
He took that as a “no.” Worth a shot, at least. Maybe now it would give him some peace to sort out his increasing anxiety.
“Ritsu, walking’s too slow. Lemme float you there if you’re not gonna do it yourself.”
“No!” he snapped. When memory reminded him what happened last time he pissed off the entity, though, he paused and swallowed. “No, Animosity, I’m walking.”
Fortunately, the alleged all-powerful irate god merely sniggered and crossed its arms behind its head. The being that replaces his brother unannounced, that has haunted him for years, floating by his side like a ticking time bomb. If only he could run like Dimple had.
God, how he wished Dimple were here.
“Does he keep his hair like this because it floats so well with psychic energy?” it asked after a minute. His brother’s hair glided around its head, swimming through the air like it were water. It usually glimmered like water, too, when Mob used his normal aquamarine powers; now it appeared as sharp smog, dark grays flipping and turning around a cross-eyed fourteen-year-old body, blowing at its bangs.
Such a polluted image made him sick. Just ignore it, Ritsu, and it’ll entertain itself.
“Hands are weird, y’know? It’s like your arm was flattened with little arms stuck to the end. What kind of factory mutation was that, ya think?”
“Man, it’s a good thing this body’s so supernaturally charged, because it’s like a two in the natural energy department. Seriously, how the hell did I even walk that first two minutes? No wonder he’s such a bore: It’s too strenuous to emote.”
“Since human bodies naturally absorb energy through the intake of physical matter, do you think Shigeo’s body would be even more enhanced if it absorbs spirits? Like, I’d keep ‘em tangible long enough to digest, and then when I let go, would it turn into pure energy? Fuck energy drinks, then, just be an exorcist. Or would the spirit reform and possess me? Well, not me, of course, but like some other human body, like yours. Hey, wanna give it a try? I can go hunt down that green prick of a ghost for ya.”
Ritsu almost threw himself through Reigen’s door, he was already so tired of this shit.
Reigen almost threw himself through his door, he was so tired of this boredom.
He stifled another yawn. No one had come in today. Not a soul—not counting the spirit that stopped by once to nag him per usual. He could only keep himself entertain in his office for so long. And now to make it worse, Mob just happened to be late, on today of all days. He didn’t want to worry about it. Nope. He wasn’t worried. It was just that based on statistical evidence, Mob was a punctual kid, and so when he didn’t show up on time, it often meant something was wrong. It was only logical to be a little concerned about an uncommon occurrence such as this. But then again, his club probably ran long. Maybe he passed out again. It’s fine.
Though maybe he should call him just in case….
The sudden commotion outside made him jump in his chair before he quickly composed himself. Straightening his posture, he adjusted his laptop screen and watched as the door was slammed open. He quirked an eyebrow, ready to admonish Mob for the oddly reckless behavior, but he merely nodded when he saw Ritsu standing there. Jeez, what did he do to bother the kid this time? He only just got here.
“Take it,” he declared. “I can’t deal with this right now.”
“It?” asked a familiar voice. A black-haired head appeared behind the teen, which relieved Reigen’s worries in an instant—until he noticed the strange grin that accompanied his words. “That’s a bit insensitive, dontcha think?”
Even though Ritsu tried to keep his expression neutral, the con man could see it darken as he moved further into the room. “Not like you deserve anything more,” he heard him mutter.
Mob cocked a hip. Has that Hanazawa kid been rubbing off on him…? “We’ll see about that, cupcake,” he said. “True, gender and gendered pronouns are such a human thing, but ‘it’ sounds so rude. Might as well be a ‘he’ in a male body, eh?”
Reigen felt his face heat up. Was that what’s going on? Was he really supposed to have this talk with these middle schoolers? Now? Didn’t these children have an actual father to talk to? He took a breath and folded his hands before telling the younger brother, “I can understand your confusion, Ritsu. I wouldn’t have pegged Mob for the type either. But what’s important is that you’re still the same old siblings, and you should respect them for the person they want to be.”
Ritsu rubbed his eyes. He started to snap back, but he was interrupted by a laugh. A brash, loud laugh from the doorway, that Reigen had never dreamed would come from Mob’s mouth. “Oh, you’re so fucking clueless!” he shouted. Reigen couldn’t even react to the uncharacteristic language before the boy was suddenly in front of him. “That’s cute, Arataka.”
“Whoa—okay!” He jolted back so fast he almost fell out of his chair. “That’s, uh— my given name? Well, never knew you could teleport, Mob! No excuse for being late, now, is there?”
“Ah hah! Yeah, no, Mob can’t do that yet.”
He raised an eyebrow. This kid leaning on his desk with that smirk on his face…were his eyes red? “Mob…? Are you alright?”
“Yeah, Mob’s fine.”
“Eh, good?” When he was met with a grinning silence instead of an explanation, the man added, “Reigen is confused and feels like he’s missing something.”
“That’s not my brother,” said Ritsu. He stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, eyes burning holes through the head between them. “This asshole took him over and refuses not to give cryptic answers.”
Mob sneered. “Don’t you ever wonder why this kid is such a stick in the mud?” he asked, pushing himself off the desk to put his hands on his hips. “He’s trying to keep me away. Emotions are powerful things, after all: Hate breeds more hate and ignites wars and death. Love can drive a man mad. So when you got a god on your side, it’s hard not to just give in to that power time and again.”
Ritsu’s eyes were hidden by his bangs, but Reigen could see his fists trembling. “That’s it. I’m going home. Reigen, you god damn fraud, you better care enough about my brother to make sure it gets home intact.”
With that, the door slammed shut, and the two of them were left alone.
“Callin’ me ‘it’ again,” Mob huffed. “Like I’m some thing. I’m better than a thing.”
Well, at the very least, his day wouldn’t be boring anymore.
#glad this is an alright ending place#so I don't stay up late again trying to add the next part#why is it I only feel like writing when I have other stuff to do#the world may never know#Mob Psycho 100#MP100 fanfiction#fanfiction#my writing#not my art#remember when I thought this would be an art blog?#different kind of art#Animosity Among Men#silvervictory#all thanks to you dude#Animosity god AU#100% Animosity#all the Animosity
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