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jedi-starbird · 3 months

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Time Travel is my favourite trope and I think we need more fics where both Obi-Wan AND Qui-Gon time travel together because no matter when they get sent it's chaos. They're saving the galaxy and being physic flash-bangs to everyone around them.

like before Bandomeer?

The entire council is baffled to watch as Qui-Gon 'never taking a padawan again' Jinn has suddenly cut off his post-Xanatos depression tour to return to the temple and beeline to the creche with a frantic energy. His wild eyes immediately single out a fluffy, red-haired initiate.

"You." he exhales with a pointed finger, slightly ominous as he towers over the child. Said child starts vibrating with delight. "Me." he agrees, launching himself at the man. Qui-Gon drops to his knees with a thud that cannot be healthy. Obi-Wan's attempts to clamber into Qui-Gon's robes and maybe onto his shoulders is thwarted by the fact that Qui-Gon's massive hands are cupping Obi-Wan's tiny squishy cheeks. He stares at the initiate for a few minutes with an intensity that is starting to worry people.

Finally, "You're so small." Qui-Gon sounds like he might cry.

'What the fuck?' Plo Koon projects at Mace.

"I'm 9! That tends to be the case!" the child chirps back.

"You're nine." Oh. Ah. Qui-Gon's eyes are distinctively misty. He squishes the boy in a hug so hard he squeaks. Mace makes a series of gestures that imply the need for a head-scan. Depa obligingly drifts off towards the halls. Qui-Gon scoops the child up onto his hip and claims him as his padawan on the spot. The assorted council members and creche-masters burst into noise. Mace tells Depa to bring some space ibuprofen as well.

after Naboo?

Anakin is a little apprehensive of his place in both the order and Obi-Wan's life, but then one day Obi-Wan wakes up and is suddenly a lot less sad in the force?? In fact, if Anakin didn't know better he'd say he was almost giddy, but he's watched Obi-Wan try to pretend his world hasn't fallen apart for the past few months so it can't be that, right? And um, Miss Bant? He knows grief is a funny thing that affects people differently but he's pretty sure 'massive mood swing' and 'having full conversations with invisible people' is not...great? and you said to tell you if Obi-Wan got really weird in any way.

Anyway after a lot of medical exams, intense consultation with the archives, and a couple exorcisms, Anakin ends up being raised by his 'real' master and his ghost master. He is far more well adjusted emotionally and far less well adjusted for what counts as normal people behavior(not talking to thin air). When questioned on this, all he ever says is that he's talking to Qui-Gon. Isn't he...dead? Well, yes. Wait, he's a ghost? Ghosts are real? ...Well this ghost is real.

This starts a great number of existential crises among non-force sensitives and incredibly heated theological arguments amongst the Jedi. Whenever Obi-Wan is questioned on this, all he ever says is some variation of "the force got to know him for 5 seconds and kicked him back out." Mace backs him up on this even though that reasoning is technically blasphemous. Qui-Gon is having the time of his un-life. He's ascended to his final form, his sheer existence is a heresy, this is truly all he has ever aspired towards.

the Clone Wars?

The minute they get dropped back Qui-Gon immediately goes and haunts the shit out of Dooku. They have a signed terms of surrender and promise of info on the Sith Lord within the year. Only half of it is because Qui-Gon's giving Dooku complexes that are only perceptible to shrimp, the other half is because they now have a ghost spy that is not bound by the laws of physics nor spacetime.

Obi-Wan only nominally pays attention to this as he immediately goes and implements his 19 step seduction plan with Cody (he had to focus on something on Tatooine to pass the time). It fails. Spectacularly. Publicly. Ah right. Tatooine was not exactly the height of his sanity. Everyone in the GAR and temple is now riveted by High General and Councilor Obi-Wan Kenobi's attempts to go on a date with his Commander, who bats him away him like a particularly annoying stray and seems one bouquet of cactus away from committing mutiny. Anakin is worrying if it means his master knows about his secret marriage and this is some sort of really weird power play. (It is, but not in the way he thinks)

The next time Dooku goes after Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon spends a good few months appearing tear-stained at the edge of Dooku's perception and only communicating in terrible wails and discordant mutterings of 'padawan. my padawan. my little one.' 24/7.

"Wait, you're annoying Dooku into surrendering?"

"Oh no Anakin, we're crushing his psyche like a bug. :)"

#everyone feel free to use these i crave more time travel fics #the sheer power qui gon would have as a fully communicating force ghost before and during the clone wars is astounding #qui gon with baby obi wan is like inconsolable sobs cause he never saw him this small and then his life was so sad and he couldnt even hug #him on tatooine but now look at his boy!!! so small and huggable!!!!#they absolutely weaponise baby obi against others his wet cat eyes are 1000% stronger now #they drop him in dookus lap like look grandpadawan:)#if you hold the grandpadawan maybe your sith behaviour will calm down :/#anyway them together is like they throw enough bullshit into the air to blind everyone while they speedrun important changes in the back #after naboo is like everyone offering obi wan condolences and obi responding yeah im going to need them the fucker wont stay down #star wars #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #qui gon and obi wan #fic ideas #time travel shenanigans #codywan #anakin skywalker #disaster lineage #count dooku

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 1 month

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Fuckboy Eddie falls in love, fwb, little bit of smut. Cocky Eddie, 18+ Mdni.

🎀💌

Fuckboy Eddie has met his match when it comes to you, he assumes because at first you're sweet and a little on the shy side that he will be the one calling the shots.

He's wrong of course.

On the night that the two of you meet it's at one of Steve's parties. He's recently started throwing them again for the gang, it's fun and he's met a ton of hot chicks because of it.

You're a friend of Steve and Robins who work with him at Family Video, At the party you stick close to the two of them, nervous about meeting new people.

Occasionally Eddie manages to catch your eye, he winks at you from where he's sitting, flirts heavily when Robin and Steve introduce you to the rest of the gang.

Seduce and fuck, that's his motto, he's not interested in seeing a woman more than once, and he much prefers the briefest flings if he does. That way no one expects anything more from him.

He doesn't see how tonight will go any different but boy he's in for a surprise. The first surprise is when he asks you out, you look him dead in the eye and smirk.

"Sorry pretty boy, I'm not interested" Eddie's brain goes brrr for a few seconds, he can't remember the last time his flirting attempts failed so spectacularly.

"I uh..." he stumbles over his words, tongue tied and growing frustrated with himself. You take pity on him.

"Look I haven't had sex in like the longest time, I'm horny as shit and even though I say I'm not looking for anything more than some hot sex, we all know someone always catches feelings for their fuck buddy and I'd like to avoid that"

He gapes stunned then recovers. "What a coincidence, I'm just looking for just some hot sex too" you eye him up and down, there's a small smile on your face.

"Oh honey, you wouldn't be able to handle me, I'd rock your world" your hand brushes over his shoulder as you sashay pass him, he gently tugs you back and your eyes meet his, full of lust.

"Try me sweetheart"

...

Exactly twenty minutes later the two of you are in Eddie's room, the door locked and the two of you sweaty, naked and fucking each other until you're both spent and sated.

Eddie is lying beside you, his head empty of all thoughts except the fact that you did rock his world, repeatedly. The sex was mindblowing.

You lay with him for a minute before getting up and pulling on your clothes, "Where are you going?" He asked confused as you fix your hair and make up.

"Early start handsome, gotta run. That was fantastic" you blow him a kiss and then you're out the door, leaving Eddie speechless.

Well that was a first.

...

The same situation carried on for weeks, the two of you would have sex and it would be incredible but then either one of you would leave.

Except Eddie noticed that his bed was a lot colder without you in it, missed your laugh or you sarcasm when you weren't around. So he started going to Family Video more to spend time with you, flirt and see your pretty smile.

Whenever that smile was directed at him, it was like his whole heart went pitter patter very fast, he felt like he was a teenager again with his very first crush.

Butterflies, racing heart, sweaty palms, it was humiliating. He hated when some douchebag noticed you, so Eddie left little lovebites on your skin and pleased you for hours if some idiot tried to flirt with you. He liked reminding you that he could pleasure you better than some limp dick asshole.

He loved when you cried out his name, chanted it in sweet, reverent tones.

That's when Eddie came to the conclusion one day when you were laying fast asleep beside him after a long work day and a very hot shower session with him. His conclusion being that finally after all of these years he had met his match.

"Someone always catches feelings for their fuck buddy" that's exactly what you said all those weeks ago.

He just never expected that he would be the one who caught feelings.

The fuckboy was well and truly fucked... and completely in love with you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson smut

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hajihiko · 9 months

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I’m not any of the anons from before but as a fellow kazuichi fan I’d personally love to hear you talk about why you like him if you feel like it! personally I was first drawn to his character design, I just thought he looked cool, and then the second he opened his mouth and revealed himself as a loser, I loved him like ten times more lol. I know some people think he’s ‘creepy’ but I feel like he keeps enough a distance from Sonia that he’s just a guy with a crush, and also his “don’t you ever just wanna take girls apart and see how their bones work” line lives in my head rent free

Ok well. Sorry dude (genuinely) but I dont think I think of him the way a lotta ppl do. Heres my take sorry if it ruins it

First of all, do I LIKE his character? No. I like what could become of it if handled well, in the future (same with Akane and Sonia and... a lotta characters tbh).

I dont want to gloss over that he was really not cool with Sonia. I DON'T think it was like, a simple silly crush like any other dude would have, I think he WAS inappropriate about it and (most likely completely unbeknownst to him) enforcing things that she genuinely could not stand. He was insecure and took it out on others as well as himself.

These are all character flaws. Every single character has them (some more than others). Fuyuhiko was genuinely a dick (as I have said many times, having anger issues isnt an excuse for the way he talks sometimes), Hiyoko is a bully, Ibuki is insensitive when se gets caught up, Impostor is condescending sometimes, etc. Kazuichi isnt the only one to be a jackass sometimes and t deny it is to deny his character, just as much as reducing him to only that is oversimplifying it.

What I like about Kazuichi is: the design.

(Ok jk but I do enjoy the design a lot)

I like the teenage insecurity. He thinks he wants to be a chick magnet, but gets scared when girls show an interest in him. His ideal woman is basically a barbie doll. He's a little too eager to see his boy bestie naked. He was so excited for a class retreat because he's never had one before. He was so desperate to be cool and tough and not a nerd that he drastically (and no doubt painfully, ow, TEETH) changed his appearance to conform to his Ideal Self, but could not actually change his personality.

He's basically a teenage boy, warts and acne at all, trying so hard to be The That Guy but spectacularly failing. He's actually somewhat of a genius (and the Death Trap stuff hints to him having a lot of repressed turmoil which honestly so true, teenagers whose only outlet is fantasizing about the gory demise of their tormentors, SO TRUE) but he can't SEE that because he wants to be some kind of cool punk frat bro dude. He's so busy living up to some idealized version of himself that he fumbles who he actually is, which if he just took a moment, would be a pretty cool dude. Basically, did you ever discover a cool band and tried to model your entire personality after what you thought those vibes would be? That, but sad.

So yeah, I think he's great at comedic beats, and also has a lot of heart underneath it, but has never been in a place where he can just accept that and let it shine. His last words were basically "here I am, don't forget me!" which like, man, isnt that just relatable teenagerism?

#I dont like how many ppl excuse his behaviour towards Sonia like. It wasnt malicious but it was really insensitive. As a reader who doent-#-know his inner mechanisms it was uncomfortable (you can hc him whatever u want but I'm speaking from just memory no hc).#He made a lot of awkward fumbles and missteps as did a lot of the characters. But to me hes just such a teenage dude #With all the insecurities and sexuality crisis and trying to impress in an environment where he has a chance to (as opposed to.. home.)#not an art #Sorry anon I disagree with you. But u did prompt me to actually talk about this so thanks!

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misc-obeyme · 1 year

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Forgetful MC Part 2

Okay here is part two of an MC who is forgetful, this time with the side boys! Not including the three newbies, as I haven’t met them yet. Luke’s part is strictly platonic, of course, though these are generally not romantic anyway.

GN!MC

Warnings: MC is forgetful. Since this is based on things I personally struggle with, there may be some ADHD symptoms in there, too, as I have that as well. Please let me know if I should add anything else here!

Diavolo

Hears from Lucifer that you are a bit forgetful and absentminded. Finds it completely adorable. Thinks this is a cute human trait that you have.

Turns out that Diavolo understands your struggle. Forgetfulness solidarity. What would he do without Barbatos to keep him on track?

He actually gets excited if you’ve forgotten something he told you about because now he gets to tell you all about it AGAIN! You’re adorable, MC.

If he puts you in charge of some event, as he is known to do, he will write you little lists of things you need to remember relating to said event. Writes them all by hand and delivers them to you in person. If you misplace them, he has extra copies.

Barbatos

Everyone knows this guy is the exact opposite of forgetful, so when it’s brought to his attention that you struggle with remembering certain things, he is on it.

Reads your mind. Even if your mind is blank. If you’re sitting there, trying to remember where you put something or if there was something you needed to do, he will be able to tell you exactly what it is. How does he do that? We don’t know, he’s a butler that can time travel.

Makes you a special tea blend with herbs that are known to improve memory issues. Since he knows you forget to drink it, Barbatos makes it for you pretty regularly. Trust him on this, MC. A good tea blend can fix all kinds of things.

Loves to bake with you, but keeps an eye on what you’re doing so you don’t forget important steps. Gently redirects you to the correct thing if you’re about to mess up because you forgot something.

Simeon

Upon learning of your forgetful tendencies, Simeon is very thoughtful about helping you out with it. Doesn’t ask you outright if you’ve forgotten something. Instead, he drops little suggestions and hints until you remember whatever it is on your own.

Similarly, he’ll ask you a question about something he suspects you’ve forgotten, acting like he’s the one who can’t remember. This gives you the opportunity to pretend that you didn’t forget at all, even though both of you know the truth.

Simeon also loves to cook with you. He will do every step with you, reading each thing out loud from the recipe as you go to prevent you from forgetting things.

Always notices if you’re struggling with something due to your forgetfulness. Always helps you out in a subtle, gentle way to help you avoid embarrassment. Don’t worry, MC. He’s here for you.

Solomon

Probably makes fun of you for your absentmindedness in a lighthearted way. After you fail spectacularly at a spell due to forgetting the words, it becomes an inside joke with you two.

Understands that you have a slightly different learning style. When you become his apprentice, he figures out exactly what he needs to do to make sure you succeed. He won’t let you flounder, MC.

Actually comes up with systems that really help you, not just with learning magic, but with every day life, too. If something stops working, he’ll take the time to work out something new with you. Can’t go wrong with a genius wizard grandpa on your side.

If you ever tell him that you’re embarrassed about your forgetfulness, Solomon will reassure you. He will remind you of all the things you’ve accomplished. He will tell you how proud of you he is.

Luke

Follows Simeon’s example when it comes to dealing with your forgetfulness and tries to be subtle about it, but he’s not quite as good at it as Simeon is. You appreciate the effort, especially considering how adorable he is when he does it.

This precious boy is always baking you things. But of course you have a tendency to leave things behind. So if he’s got some baking for you to take back to the House of Lamentation with you, he waits until the last possible second to give it to you, so the chances of you leaving it behind are slim. You absolutely have to try these new macarons, MC! No leaving them behind!

Holds your hand whenever you go anywhere together because he doesn’t want you to get lost. You don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s only when you go somewhere new, so you just let him lead you around.

Probably gives you extra blessings if he’s worried about your absentmindedness causing you trouble. Luke can’t help but worry about you.

masterlist | part 1 with the brothers | Thank you for reading!

#obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obm #obmswd #obey me swd #misc writes

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smilesthroughfandoms · 1 year

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Ranking The Brotherhood on how good with kids I think they are.

(Listen my homework is depressing me and I want a break so here we go)

No. 1: Demon Bull King: Listen it’s not just because he’s a Dad™️ ok! You cannot convince me otherwise that he didn’t spoil the ever loving heck outta Red Son as a baby. He loved that little boy and would not hesitate to slaughter anyone who dared even looked at his son the wrong way. Sure, nowadays he has a few missteps but the love and care is still present. He’s not perfect but he’s the best of them all. 9/10—He stumbles a bit but he means well.

No. 2: Six-Eared Macaque: He’s the Go-To Babysitter and the Designated Driver™️ of the Brotherhood. He will care for any child if he needs to. Sure he might just feed them junk food or frozen stuff but hey, that’s better than nothing. He’s the Fun Uncle and kids just flock to him. 8/10—He tells really great bedtime stories too.

No. 3: Yellow-Tusk the Wise: He’s the standard. He’ll make sure the kids are fed, clean, and content but his idea of a “fun, engaging activity” is reading the Dictionary and discovering new words or something. If you need a babysitter fast he’s your reluctant go-to. 6/10—The kids will be asleep when you get home on account of how boring he was!

No. 4: Azure Lion: He’s not that great with young kids but the older they get the easier it is for him. He can talk to them more easily. He will not know what to do with a baby. He will hold it at arms length and just be terrified out of his mind. But he will also try to speak all “hip” to the older kids and fail spectacularly. 5.5/10—He definitely pronounces Meme as Me-Me.

No. 5: Golden-Winged Peng: I know in the OG Journey to the West they have a nephew—but would you let them around your nephew? They laughs anytime the kid falls over and has insulted several children to their faces. And that’s the easy stuff. 3/10—They May or May Not have dropped a kid once and it May or May Not have been an accident.

No. 6: Sun Wukong: What is wrong with you?! You trust this absolute disaster of an immortal with your children?! Do you hate your children or something? He’s never known illness or the true concept of death so what’s he going to do. He won’t actively try and kill the kid but man he doesn’t have to he’s that bad. 1/10—The other Monkeys on FFM are alive today because of pure instinct and little to no input from this monkey and no one can convince me otherwise.

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bloody-bee-tea · 3 months

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You're safe with me

When the new patron steps into the bar, he immediately draws all of the attention to himself, including Suguru’s. It’s hard not to, with his height and his mob of shocking white hair, but what stands out most to Suguru are the sunglasses the guy is wearing.

Inside of a bar, at a time that is closer to morning than evening.

Suguru has been in the business for long enough to wince slightly, because this guy is sure to be an asshole and tending to him is not going to be pleasant.

Still, Suguru plasters on a smile when the guy comes up to the bar, because it’s his job and it’s how he makes money.

“Hello there,” the guy says, and Suguru feels appraised in a way he isn’t quite used to because usually his scowl keeps people away until they are distinctly more drunk and then there’s so much less heat behind it.

“What can I get for you?” Suguru asks, his hands lightly resting on the counter, ready to get the guy whatever he wants, if only to get him out of his face faster.

“Straight to business, I see,” the guy mutters and then gives Suguru what must be his most winning smile. “Here’s the deal,” he then goes on, putting his phone on the bar between them.

It has to be one of the newest models and therefore probably cost more than anything in Suguru’s bar. He slightly wonders if the phone should even be touching the bar at all, but it doesn’t seem as if the guy cares much, going by the careless way he spins it around.

Suguru fights the urge to lean back when the guy leans closer but going by the small tick of his mouth the guy noticed anyway.

“My name’s Gojo Satoru,” he then says and now Suguru can’t hide his reaction because his eyebrows fly up.

Everyone knows Gojo Satoru; heir to the biggest company in the country and successful model to boot. The last part not quite undeserved, Suguru has to admit, now that he sees him in person and up close.

“Good for you,” Suguru says, just a beat too late, but it still makes Gojo crack a smile, despite Suguru’s rude tone.

“So you know who I am then, that’s good, means you’ll be much more open to my plan,” Gojo says, the same smile on his face, though it gains an edge.

“What plan?” Suguru wants to know because usually, plans that need a bar are the worst ones and he’s not going to mop up this guy’s puke, rich boy or not.

“I am going to get spectacularly drunk,” Gojo declares and slides his phone over to Suguru. “And once I’m passed out, you’re going to call someone, anyone, from my contacts list to come and pick me up.”

Suguru eyes the phone.

“That’s password protected,” he flatly gives back and Gojo cackles.

“It’s also fingerprint protected so just stick my thumb on it and it’ll unlock, no problem.”

Suguru narrows his eyes at Gojo.

“I fail to see how me knowing who you are is going to help with this brainless plan.”

“Ah, but see, that’s the beauty in it! It is a brainless plan; stupid and reckless and depending on who you call maybe even dangerous but it’s entirely up to you. You know who I am, so you get to pick who gets me. You get to decide who gets their hands on a defenceless Gojo Satoru. Surely there must be something you hate about me, maybe my family’s company fucked you or a loved one over. I hear that happens to a lot of people in this town, so this is the perfect opportunity to get revenge. Or just fuck with me, whatever you want.”

Suguru can do nothing but stare at him, because this guy is certifiably insane, he has to be. There is no other explanation for why he would do something so incredibly reckless, something so stupid and smile while saying it.

“You’re insane,” Suguru finally gets out and Gojo’s smile turns a little bit wider.

Suguru refuses to read anything in it that isn’t there, because surely the tension in the corner of his mouth, the way his eyes don’t quite crinkle correctly with it is all his imagination.

“Maybe,” Gojo agrees. “Possibly. Doesn’t matter though. You in?”

He uses one of his insanely long fingers to push the phone closer to Suguru.

And really, what is he going to do about this? This guy came into his bar, a plan clearly in mind and he’s definitely old enough to drink and he’ll probably be a good-paying customer.

There is no reason for Suguru to say no.

“If you puke, I’ll keep you here until you cleaned up behind yourself,” Suguru decides and pockets the phone before Gojo can push it off the counter.

“Deal,” Gojo immediately declares and claps his hands together. “Wonderful,” he adds in a whisper, and again Suguru refuses to read anything into that even though the way Gojo’s face falls for a second makes him feel a little bit sick. No one should look that empty.

“What’s your poison then?” Suguru wants to know, ready to keep a steady supply going, if only that will make Gojo get drunk faster.

“Something sweet?” Gojo asks with a tilt of his head and Suguru has seen enough people in his bar to know that he has no goddamn clue what the options even are.

“You–do drink, right?” Suguru wants to know, weariness creeping in and he wonders why today of all days he decided to cover a shift.

He’d really rather be anywhere else than here at the moment and in all honesty it would have been hilarious if Nanako would have had to deal with this guy.

“Sure,” Gojo says with a confidence that tells Suguru that he most definitely does not and so he simply sighs.

“Fine, something sweet then,” he mutters and gets to mixing.

He doesn’t enjoy making cocktails but he sure as hell can and so soon enough a red, sparkly concoction sits in front of Gojo.

“It’s so pretty,” Gojo breathes out, as if he has never seen a sparkly drink in his life before and Suguru rolls his eyes.

“Thanks, I guess,” he says and for a moment he doesn’t understand when Gojo’s eyes snap up to his as a light blush dusts his cheeks.

“The drink,” Gojo almost yells out, correcting a mistake that wasn’t even made in the first place and Suguru can’t help it, he simply has to laugh.

“Sure thing, pretty boy,” he says with a wink when he stopped laughing, only making Gojo splutter more and as if to hide his embarrassment he takes the drink and downs it in one go.

Suguru raises an eyebrow at that.

“Did you even taste any of that?” he then wants to know and Gojo glares at him.

“Shut up,” he hisses and Suguru notes with alarm that there’s already a slur to his words.

Surely this guy is not that much of a lightweight, right?

Gojo continues to glare at him even as he ruffles through his pockets for some money, though his eyes get hooded, Suguru can see that even behind the sunglasses he is still wearing, and not even two minutes later his head drops down to the bar, some crumpled bills in his hand.

“You cannot be serious,” Suguru mutters out, staring in complete disbelief at Gojo. “Hey,” he tries, poking the mop of white hair with a finger, but he only gets a groan in response.

It seems as if he’s out for the count, after one measly cocktail.

“What the fuck,” Suguru sighs, and rubs a hand over his face. “Fine then. Be like that.”

He carefully extracts the money from Gojo’s hand—it’s way too much, and he has half a mind keeping it all, just for the hell of it but of course he doesn’t—and slips the change into Gojo’s pocket before he reaches for the phone.

One press of Gojo’s thumb unlocks it, just like he said it would and Suguru is free to scroll through his contacts, deciding on who to call.

It’s not going to be an easy decision, that much Suguru can already tell by the first few and his stomach drops with every new contact name he sees. Wants money, Wants favours, Already blackmailed me the words read and Suguru tries to will his hand to stop shaking when his eyes fall on Sent the assassin and switches off the screen when he reads Bad touch.

He shakes with anger, for Gojo, for what he clearly has to go through all day, every day and Suguru can barely bring himself to switch the phone back on to check if there is even one normal name in there.

But Gojo is still soundly asleep on his bar, and really, what other choice does Suguru have? He unlocks the phone with Gojo’s thumb again and scrolls through his contacts once more, going faster than before, so he can barely read the warnings Gojo set for himself.

He stumbles over a promising one—Nanami-still mad—before he finally finds a normal one. Utahime. That surely must mean she’s safe, right?

Suguru hopes she is, at least, because he already pressed the call button.

“The hell do you want?” Utahime greets and it gives Suguru pause, wondering if he made the wrong decision, when her tone suddenly changes. “Satoru? You there? You okay?”

It sounds almost as if she’s worried and that’s good enough for Suguru at the moment.

“Geto Suguru here,” he says. “Gojo is passed out in my bar at the moment.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end.

“Fuck,” Utahime then sighs out and Suguru silently agrees with her. “He got drunk?”

“If he can get drunk off one cocktail, then yes,” Suguru gives back and Utahime huffs out a laugh. “He told me to call someone to pick him up, gave me his phone and everything, but—”

“Oh, Satoru,” Utahime whispers out, making Suguru wonder just how long they have been friends.

Clearly she’s not too surprised by his behaviour.

“Can you come pick him up?” Suguru asks, wondering how much longer Gojo can stay in that position until his back starts to hurt but he knows he has his answer when a telling silence comes from the other end of the phone. “You can’t.”

“I’m not in the country at the moment. What about Nanami?” Utahime asks and Suguru shakes his head.

“His contact says he’s still mad,” he tells her.

“Damn, that means Haibara’s out, too,” Utahime mutters and even though Suguru doesn’t know her, he can just imagine how she’s pinching the bridge of her nose. “You could—I mean. You can always put him in the back of a cab.”

“And send him where?” Suguru incredulously asks. “With how his contacts are named, you think I want to put him into the hands of a complete stranger?”

“Well—I mean, he did put himself into the hands of a complete stranger,” Utahime tells him none too gently and Suguru has to admit that she’s right.

It’s still different, though, because Gojo made that decision for himself. Now it’s on Suguru to make a decision and he doesn’t want to get Gojo hurt. Something Gojo himself clearly is not too concerned with, if his actions are anything to go by, but Suguru can’t get that one look out of his mind.

“I’ll keep him here,” he decides on a whim and wonders if he’ll manage to get Gojo up the stairs to his apartment.

“Huh?” Utahime very eloquently asks and Suguru takes a breath.

“This is my bar and I live upstairs. I can keep him here until he’s sober tomorrow. Then we don’t have to worry about anything.”

“That’s—awfully nice of you,” she says and Suguru can hear the suspicion in her voice. “What do you want in return?”

“To know that he didn’t get fucked up on his way home?” Suguru shoots back. “Listen, he’s—” Suguru doesn’t even know how to finish his sentence because he doesn’t know Gojo besides the handful of sentences they exchanged, but that one look; he had seemed so resigned, so empty that it makes Suguru ache even just remembering it.

“He’ll stay here,” Suguru says instead of trying to find words for something that probably can’t even be said out loud and he holds his breath for Utahime’s answer.

“Fine. I have his location pinged, if he ends up hurt or vanishes or anything like that, I know where you are, just saying.”

“Noted,” Suguru gives back, secretly glad that Gojo does at least have one friend and Utahime hangs up on him without saying goodbye.

“Rude,” Suguru mutters as he pockets the phone again and surveys the bar.

There’s no one in it anymore besides the two of them and it’s close enough to closing time anyway that Suguru doesn’t feel bad about flipping the sign at the door to Closed. He cleans up what he can with Gojo still slumped over half of the bar and then he gets ready to lug his unwanted guest up the stairs.

Suguru is no slouch, he does work out regularly and carrying around all the bottles in the bar is kind of a work-out itself but still; Gojo is all long limbs, flopping around without a care in the world and Suguru almost falls twice dragging him up the stairs.

They do make it in the end, but only barely so, and Suguru is a lot less careful when he dumps Gojo on the couch.

“What the hellhell are you so heavy for?” Suguru pants out, dragging a hand over his face and he decides that this is it.

He’ll throw a blanket over Gojo, get him a glass of water and then he’ll go to bed himself. Let him fend for his own for a while. He does exactly that—though he also gets Gojo situated more comfortably and gets him a bucket in case he does have to throw up—and by the time Suguru falls into bed himself he wonders just what the hell he got himself into with this.

Well, he’ll probably find out in the morning.

~*~*~

Suguru is in the process of frying bacon when he hears a low groan from the living-room. He moves the pan to the side, before he goes to see his unwilling guest. Gojo’s hair is rumpled, sticking up in every which direction and Suguru’s fingers twitch with the urge to smooth it back out. Gojo is blearily blinking at his surroundings, clearly trying to piece together what happened and where he is, and Suguru can see the rising tension in his shoulders when everything is unfamiliar.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Suguru greets him, even though it’s long past morning and he doesn’t mention the way Gojo startles as his head flies around to him.

Gojo’s mouth drops open when he recognises him and then his face goes petulant.

“I did not throw up,” is the first thing he says, his voice still scratchy from sleep and it’s surprising enough that it startles Suguru into a laugh.

“No, you did not. Still decided to keep you here,” Suguru gives back with a shrug. “Didn’t like your contacts much, to be honest.”

“What?” Gojo breathes out, his eyes falling to his phone. “But—you could have—”

“Yeah,” Suguru agrees, because he could have. “But I didn’t. So. You take your breakfast with coffee?” he asks, almost desperate to get that look of surprise off Gojo’s face.

“I take my breakfast with a name,” Gojo shoots back and Suguru has to give it to him, for all that he gets drunk awfully fast, he doesn’t seem to suffer much for it, if his wit is anything to go by. Or maybe that’s just wired into his very being.

“Geto Suguru.”

“Suguru,” Gojo mutters and then smiles brightly at him. “I’m Satoru.”

It’s overly familiar, Suguru thinks, but then again—Satoru did just sleep on his couch and Suguru did just offer him breakfast.

Maybe it’s just familiar enough.

“Coffee?” Suguru comes back to his original question and Satoru’s face really is enough to give him his answer.

“Only if there’s syrup and sugar and a lot of milk,” Satoru gives back as he gets up, pocketing his phone.

“You have a new contact, by the way,” Suguru says, trying for nonchalant as he turns back around to the kitchen. “It says Safe.”

Suguru doesn’t try to think too much about why he did that in the first place; he doesn’t know Satoru, has nothing to do with him and there is certainly no obligation to care for him and yet—the thought of letting Satoru leave, letting him go back into a world where the only safe option for an emergency pick-up might be out of the country sits wrong with Suguru.

Satoru is very quiet behind him and it stays like that for long enough that Suguru turns to look over his shoulder. Satoru is staring at his phone, his face slack with the same surprise as before and Suguru’s heart squeezes when he sees Satoru’s lips shake.

“That’s a joke, right?” Satoru asks, clearly pushing it all away and giving Suguru a smile that tries to convey that he looked right through him.

Even though there’s nothing to look through.

“Try it,” Suguru simply gives back and does not startle when his phone starts ringing not even a moment later.

“You’re serious,” Satoru breathes out behind him and again, there is that itch in Suguru’s fingers to reach out for him, soothe him in any way he can.

Suguru wonders if there’s something wrong with him.

“Of course I am. If you insist on doing stupid stuff,” he says with a shrug and this time he does startle when Satoru steps close to him, presses against his back as if he had done it a thousand times already.

“What if I call you in the middle of the night?” Satoru wants to know and Suguru lets out a measured breath.

“Then I’ll see if I can find someone who takes over the bar for however long it takes me to get you,” he gives back, doesn’t think too hard about the promises he is making right now but just the thought of not doing it makes him feel vaguely sick.

“What if I pester you all day long just for the heck of it?” Satoru asks next and Suguru lets out a snort at that.

“I’m kind of expecting that, though in the dreadful kind of way,” he explains and laughs even more when Satoru pokes him in the side.

“And what if I only come to your bar to make stupid decisions?” Satoru wonders and Suguru sighs.

“It’s your back that’s going to get ruined on the couch,” he easily gives back and Satoru hums.

“Mh, maybe I’ll send you a new couch then,” Satoru says and Suguru groans.

“Please don’t.”

It’s—strange, how domestic it all feels, how right and familiar, as if Satoru has always been there, right at his back when Suguru makes breakfast, but Suguru refuses to think any more on that. He doesn’t know if Satoru feels it in the same way he does, isn’t even sure if he wants to, and he certainly doesn’t know how to explain it should Satoru not.

“How else am I going to say thank you?” Satoru asks, his head now on Suguru’s shoulder as if it belongs there and who knows. Maybe it does.

Suguru doesn’t know anymore.

“Maybe by not getting drunk anymore and putting yourself at risk?”

“But will I get to see you again if I don’t?” Satoru asks, the hint of a grin on his face and Suguru loses the fight with his hand, because he reaches out to ruffle Satoru’s hair.

It’s just as soft as he imagined it to be.

“You have my number, idiot, you know where I work and you know where I live now. Hard to not get to see me again, don’t you think?”

“Mh, true,” Satoru hums out and then looks down at what Suguru is making. “Breakfast, just for lil old me?”

“More for me, but you can have what I can’t eat,” Suguru shoots back, as if he always bickered with Satoru like this, as if this is simply his normal state of being and for now Suguru decides to just go with the flow.

Satoru is warm against him, he seems to be an alright guy—fucked up life excluded—and Shoko does tell Suguru that he needs to get out of his comfort zone more.

This is very much still in his comfort zone, despite everything, but he guesses Shoko will appreciate the thought, if nothing else.

“Thank you,” Satoru mutters after a moment, barely audible over the bacon sizzling in the pan and Suguru knows that this is not about breakfast.

“Always,” he gives back and he’s surprised to find that he truly means it.

“I’m going to shamelessly abuse this, just so you know,” Satoru tells him, as he pulls away, spilling himself into one of the kitchen chairs and grinning at Suguru.

“Oh, I expect nothing less,” Suguru sighs out, already dreading what he got himself into and yet feeling more at home with Satoru right there than he ever has.

He wonders just how far Satoru can push it before he changes his mind about that, but Suguru guesses he’s going to find out soon enough, if Satoru’s bright smile is anything to go by.

(Satoru can push and push and push and it never gets too much for Suguru. He has to admit that a few weeks later when Satoru invites himself to live with Suguru and Suguru starts to fantasise about rings on their hands. It doesn’t stay a fantasy for long.)

#bt writes #jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #no curses #bartender geto suguru #fluff #hurt/comfort #caretaking #low-key reincarnation vibes #strangers to lovers speed-run

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kanekoii · 6 months

Note

Guess who's back hehe :3

Can I get some hcs of Kyo, Ren, Ike and maybe Doppi and Kotoka with a partner that kinda sucks at games that arent rhythm games or stuff like that but still wants to try playing smth with them(and fucking sucks)BRO IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN I hope you get what I mean bro (⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ

lyra’s notes -> TEEHEE MORE EXCUSES TO WRITE FOR REN THANKS BESTIE

pairings -> kyo kaneko, ren zotto, ike eveland, doppio dropscythe, kotoka torahime x gn! reader

genre -> yet another fluffy scenario

song -> hissatsu no command - soramafuurasaka

warnings -> kyo being a little bitch but that’s why we love him

KYO KANEKO •

he lowkey loves watching you fail at games. more excuses to tease you, and that’s something we all know kyo loves. sometimes he’ll help you figure it out, but it’s often in a very sarcastic and condescending way. he tries to be nice sometimes, he really does. but seeing you struggle and whine and yell in frustration is one of his favorite pastimes. it’s so cute to him anyway, and he’ll help you eventually once you beg enough, but his sarcastic comments won’t stop ever.

when you play rhythm games though, he is in absolute awe at how you go full focus mode and won’t acknowledge him until you finish the song. it’s so cool to him, and he’ll definitely find ways to show off your skill to others.

REN ZOTTO •

he just gently helps you. if you’re playing something like mario party, he’ll help you and make it so you win. that way, you’ll feel more confident in your skills and he thinks that’s adorable! he loves seeing you confident! sure, sometimes he’ll tease you, but he’s overall very nice and sweet about it all.

when you’re in your element with games you’re good at tho…he thinks it’s so so cool and awesome and every other complimentary word out there. he loves it oh so much because it is so cool to see you in your element with things like that.

IKE EVELAND •

personal hc that he is an absolute little bitch about it. he loves you, but he is most definitely going to tease you about it. (sorry lmao i’m writing this during halloween and me and bestie are handing out candy to trick or treaters) boy absolutely loves you to death but teasing you is, much like kyo, one of his favorite pastimes. the writer isn’t absolutely perfect at other games, so he understands when you struggle a bit.

and we know boy LOVES miku, so he’s probably very experienced with rhythm games. he would love to have little competitions with you and see who’s the better gamer. doesn’t matter if you win or lose, he’ll give you a bunch of kisses anyway.

DOPPIO DROPSCYTHE •

oh the gamer. the silly. if you’ve seen how good he is at mariokart, you know where i’m going with this. he’ll make you play mariokart with him to train you. doppi won’t make you do ring-fit tho, he loves you too much to force you to work out with him. during big mariokart collabs, he’ll lag behind with you just to be side by side and coach you gently.

watching you play rhythm games is one of his favorite pastimes. he loves seeing you do something you’re good at and confident with, and he most definitely brags about you on stream and with his friends.

KOTOKA TORAHIME •

girlfaliure. she sucks at gaming. but she has fun when she plays with you, she really does. kotoka absolutely loves gaming with you when she’s not being a girlfaliure on her cooking streams. since you both suck, you’re equal in opportunity to win or lose spectacularly.

she brags about how good you are at your rhythm games on stream constantly, your girlfriend is just so proud to have someone who’s actually good at some games to balance out how bad she is at like all of them. sorry for the kotoka slander i love her

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insomniamamma · 9 months

Text

Circle, Circle: Dieter Bravo X f!reader

A/n: written for my @yearofcreation2023 Year of Kisses. This prompt was a kiss for comfort, and a whole lot of real life happened between when I started this and now. This is a love letter to the theater nerds I knew in high school and the theater nerd I became later in life. This one turned out different than I thought it would. This story refused to be smutty. This story refused to be sexy. I don't make the rules. Inspired largely by this.

warnings: drug and alcohol use, angst, implied fatphobia, insecurity, cuddles and fluff, being dieter's best friend implies it's own warning.

You saw the clip. Annika belting Dieter in the chops in the middle of some posh party while Kate looked on with the kind of face you make when your drunken best friend barfs in a potted plant at your parents house. You never loved me! You never loved me at all! Dieter's hands thrown up in self defense, grinning at the cameras as security goons hook their arms around Annika's waist and pull her out of the shot. Day in the life.You saw the clip and knew what was coming. Dieter fuckin Bravo.

You've known D since middle school, gravitating towards each other because no one else wanted anything to do with either of you. The girls called you stupid and fat and ugly. The boys called him faggot. So you'd banded together, smoking cigarettes you stole out of your Gramma's dresser, smoking shake-weed out of pop-can pipes at the edge of school grounds, right under that stupid sign that read 'drug free school zone' and then kicking it into the tall grass when some terminally bored teacher's aide came to round up you and D and the rest of the burnouts. Nobody ever gave you more than the cursory straighten up and fly right speech. Neither of you were actively failing so no one cared. Then, in high school Dieter discovered the theater program and so did you.

You saw the clip and knew your phone would ring eventually. Or buzz rather. Coming home, he texts. Can you pick me up? Sure. What time? Knowing exactly what will happen. He'll say he won't be any trouble, that he'll book a room at the holiday inn and you'll tell him no and invite him to stay. Because you always do. Because home has turned on him for getting out. He's won an Oscar out in the world, but here? He's sneered at, deep well of contempt for those who strike out and fail and come home licking their wounds. Who does he think he is? Who do you think you are? Hurts less for you because you never tried to leave as much as you wanted to.

You should try out, you told him. If I'm trying out you should too, he told you. Little Shop of Horrors. He was gunning for Seymour so you learned Audrey, so you could practice the songs with him. I can't try out are you kidding me? You can, D told you, you sound...rested his hand on your upper arm the way someone might touch a live nuclear warhead. You sound good. We sound good together. You know that right? And inside you do. The way his voice weaves through yours, the way you can let go when it's just the two of you. His garage or your basement, singing over the piano track the music teacher made.

He's a mess. He looks about four days out from his last shower, his curls sticking up in greasy quills, his eyes are red-rimmed, from drugs or crying, you can't tell. This is how it is for him. He fucks up spectacularly and then he comes slinking home. No one cares here. No one gives a shit about his Oscar here. Just that no good Bravo boy limping home like a kicked dog. But you care. Dragging his carry-on along behind him, broad shoulders slumped, you feel that unwilling, unwitting spike of pity lodge in your chest.

They'd laughed. At the audition. When you and Dieter took your positions on stage, a bit of rough blocking you'd worked out between the two of you. Not loud braying laughter, snickers and titters of girls expecting a debacle and you feel your chest constrict and your eyes burn--

"Lift up your head Wash off your mascara Here, take my Kleenex, wipe that lipstick away Show me your face, clean as the morning I know things were bad, but now they're okay--"

But Dieter has you, grips your chin with finger and thumb just like you practiced, those big brown eyes terrified and deadly serious hold yours as he draws you to your feet. Audrey's lines pour out of you in a rush, the accompaniment a hair slower than the recording, I blew it, I blew the song and then you find the tempo, you find your voice and it rings out like it did all the times you and Dieter ran it together, belting it over the cast recording, rings out into the dark auditorium, the way you've heard it in your head this whole time, and you feel your skin prickle as Dieter's voices threads through yours like a grounding touch, and you finish together, singing into each other's faces.

The accompaniment stops and there's polite applause.

"You saw?" "Everybody saw--" "Fuck."

He smells like stale beer, fast food and no sleep. "You knew it wasn't gonna last with her right?" You keep your eyes on the road, but you can feel D bristle in the passenger's seat. "How do you mean?" "Come on, man, she's, like, half your age. Even if you hadn't cheated on her with Kate--" "Hey--" "You and her have nothing in common other than being trapped in that weird quarantine bubble," you say, "That's not love, that's fucking Stockholm syndrome." "You're probably right." "I'm always right. Haven't you figured that out by now?"

"This is some bullshit!" Dieter jabs a chipped black fingernail at the list of names tacked to the bulletin board outside the auditorium. "Your name is nowhere on that list. We sounded so good together! They--" "Dieter it's fine," you say. "They cast Emmy Lancaster as Audrey! What the fuck?" "Emmy's fine. She's got a nice voice." "Yeah, but she's not you! How'm I gonna do it if it's not you?" "D! Stop it!"You grab him by his upper arms and shake him a little, and those big brown eyes lock onto yours and he looks like he's drowning. "You've got this. I know you, dude, you're gonna be great." His eyes flick back and forth like he's searching for something. "Will you still run lines with me?" "Of course I will, you asshole."

"You hungry?" "Starving." "Mabels?" "Mabels."

"Oh, man, I forgot how good this is."

You and Dieter order the same thing as ever, garbage omelets with and order of biscuits and gravy split between you. D slathers his plate in hot sauce and you wrinkle your nose like you always do. And the question comes up as it always does. Can I stay with you? Just for a little bit-- and the answer is always yes, because D is a disaster but he's your disaster.

He's held your hair while you puked, you babied him when his girl dumped him right before senior prom. You ran lines together, even though you couldn't act with him. You don't have the right look for Audrey, they told you, but we do need a stage manager, and you threw yourself into it even though it hurt, because what where you expecting? And you had a knack for it, which surprised you and everyone else. The Audrey Two puppets were rented, but everything else had to be built and you found that you loved it, sketching out the sets, figuring out how to make the pieces light enough for you and the half-dozen other nerds you'd press-ganged into being stage crew to lift easily. We can do most of it with scrims, paint right on the fabric and then light it on from the back, or we could project the images right on them, like what Nine Inch Nails does. We can get with the AV club, see what they think.

"You can always stay with me, Dieter." You reach across the sticky table and wrap your hand around his forearm, "You know that right?" And there's a flicker across his face that says no, and it feels like a spike in your belly--

"Everyone's saying-- Christ. It's like everything I touch turns to shit."

"C'mon, that's crap and you know it, Hunger Strike--"

"That was different!" He surges forward and takes your hands in his, a bit of coffee sloshed between you, turned ears and cocked heads of the few patrons haunting Mabel's this time of night. "I had something there! It was like, something entirely outside of me--"

"Like catching lightning in a bottle?"

"Exactly like that!" And he smiles, brilliantly, the real one, not the cool little smirk reserved for the red carpet, for the press junkets, the smile that lights him up, the one you remember from way back when the lights came up and the orchestra played the main theme, the cast linked arm and arm, ready to take their bows and Dieter broke ranks, deviated from what you'd done in the previews, running the show for a cadre of bored teachers who'd rather be doing just about anything else, he sees you in the wings and catches your eye, waves you out two handed, a huge clownish gesture that requires a response, so you and the tech crew pour onto the stage, while the actors slide down to make room for you and you dip your outstretched hands to the orchestra and raise them again to the soundboard and spot operator the way you've seen every night this run and then everyone links arms and bows in a wave and suddenly Dieter's arms are locked around you, releases you and then turns to the crowd, raises your hand and his together, as the applause comes up.

"Do you know how that feels?" And you remember the way you and him sounded together, how Audrey poured out of your lungs like she had always been there-- "Yeah, D, I do," and his eyes flicking back and forth across your face still and hold yours, his hands warm in your grasp.

"Yeah," he says, and squeezes your fingers in his, "Yeah, I think you do." And you stay like that a beat, hands folded together across the sticky table, ancient cigarette smoke and old coffee and hand sanitizer. The waitress brings the check. One of Mabel's spray tanned granddaughters. You draw your hands away like you've been caught.

You've kissed Dieter exactly once, under the much-graffitied overpass, neon slurs and pentagrams and pigeon shit, both of you drunk on Wild Irish Rose, him smelling of weed and his mouth was warm, tentative against yours, and you'd laughed about it afterwards, circle-circle dot-dot now i've got my cootie shot, and you'd leaned together with your arms around each other, warm and solid against each other.

During tech week you'd pulled double duty, running lines with Dieter because outside of the auditorium Emmy Lancaster wouldn't even look at him, rolled her eyes all through rehearsal as if she was doing the world a favor by being there. She wanted nothing to do with him outside of scheduled rehearsals and Dieter was scared. The tech crew you'd rounded up was a different story all together, the lights are down and they can't see us so go nuts, so backstage you'd gone full goth, all black and dramatic makeup, and some of the others had followed suit, a little bit of rebellion behind the curtain where no one could look at you.

After one particularly grueling night, you and Dieter find yourselves side by side on the futon in your basement. Your bedroom proper is upstairs but your folks have let you build a nest down here so won't bother the rest of the house. They've mostly given up on you but that gives you some freedom.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he says, looking up at the crappy drop ceiling and glow in the dark stars that you've decorated it with. "Emmy hates my guts. She thinks I'm a creep. How'm I supposed to make this work?"

"Pretend she's me."

"What?"

"Pretend. She's. Me. You're good singing and running lines with me, so just imagine it's me and not Emmy fuckin Lancaster up there with you."

"Will that work?"

"Dude, I don't fuckin know, but you better figure it out quick. We open in a week."

The ride home is silent save for the scrape of windshield wipers, low, warm spit of rain, winding back roads and Dieter's fallen asleep, head turned away, slumped against the window, comes blearily awake at the sound of your tires on the gravel driveway.

"Hey, D, we're home." He stretches in the passenger's seat and yawns hugely.

"I can still get a hotel. I don't want to be a problem--"

"Too late. C'mon."

You fall asleep under fake plastic glowing stars and wake to find you and him wrapped together, his forehead pressed to yours, your arms tucked around his ribs, his hand folded over the curve of your hip, his breath warm against your face, and you're not sure how this makes you feel, because you've never been close with someone quite like this and you're not sure what might happen next, but at the same time this is Dieter and you've known each other for what feels like a million years and he looks so different asleep, face all slack like a little kid who's zonked out in the back on the car on some long road trip.

"I'll take the couch." "The fuck you will. I know the wire-work on Cliff Beasts 6 tweaked your back." "Was it that obvious?" "I could tell." "You can always tell."

"D. Hey, D." You try to squirm out of his grip without waking him, but you haveto resort to a good hard poke in the ribs. His eyes fly open and the two of you launch up and out of bed and away from each other like two magnets forced pole to pole.

"hoooomygod. Oh shit I'm so sorry, I didn't mean--" "Dude, it's okay, I didn't mean either-" "I was just so tired holy shit," his eyes are wide and his cheeks are fire engine red and you can feel the embarrassment and anxiety pouring off him like radiation. You start laughing. You can't help it. "What?" "You remember that scene from Planes, Trains & Automobiles?" Dieter brays laughter and the embarrassment flicks out like a candle flame.

You offer your hand and he takes it. You lead him upstairs. You need to get cleaned up. You smell like the floor of a taxi-cab, and Dieter laughs, a small one that just barely touches his eyes, his big be-ringed hand folded around yours, stroking your knuckles with the pad of his thumb, eyes down-turned.

"You always let me come back to you. No matter how bad I fuck up. You don't have to- you shouldn't--"

"Don't tell me what I should or shouldn't do Dieter Bravo. You can always come to me. Unless you become a serial killer. Which seems unlikely considering how squeamy blood makes you."

Dieter laughs, a real one this time, that dimples his scruffy cheek and crinkles his eyes closed, and he knows you're talking about the time in Mrs. Wilson's home economics class when Lola Stevens sliced her thumb opening a can of peaches to make cobbler and Dieter got one good look at the running blood and slithered bonelessly out of his chair, eyes rolled up to the whites.

He laughs and pulls you into a crushing hug, his arms banded around your back, pressing you into him and it catches you off guard and you stumble against him, sorry. I didn't mean, and you don't give him space to elaborate, tuck your face into his neck, wind your arms just as tight around his middle. He smells like skunk weed and whiskey sweat and fast food and exhaustion but also like home, like those fevered days leading up to opening night, like when your first serious boyfriend had dumped you, like when he'd held your hair while you puked in the weeds by the side of the road, walking back home from a kegger that he cops broke up, the two of you creeping into the basement, got you a big sweating plastic tumbler of water in the ugly yellow light from the range hood, his eyes big and dark and serious, afraid of waking the rest of the house, and laughter had come bubbling up silent giggles that he caught like the plague, did you see the way Greggie ran?-- shut up you're gonna get us caught--

"Christ I missed you." "Missed you too, D, but you really need to shower." "That bad, huh?" "Yeah, that bad."

With some coaxing Dieter sleeps beside you, curled away from your nightstand lamp. Can't ever sleep without reading a little first, a horror yarn you've read a half-dozen times, plucky hero and damsel in distress threaded through with Dieter's even breath. He looks oddly frail in the soft light, back hunched in and knees tucked up like he's cold. You kill the light and slide the book under your pillow. You already know how it ends.

You kill the light and tuck yourself against his broad back, slide your arm around and his hand finds yours, folds your fingers into his, tucked against his chest. He smells like your soap and your shampoo because his toothbrush and a hair-clotted razor were the only toiletries that made it into his tangle of luggage. Walmart, you think, need to go anyway. You feel him soften, relax into your embrace, his weight settling against you, press your lips to the back of his head before tucking your face into the warm join of his shoulder.

His voice, sleep heavy and slurred-"Did you just kiss me?"

"Circle-circle, dot-dot"

#year of kisses #year of themes 2023 #better late than never #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo best friend imagine #dieter bravo #pedro pascal

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welcomingdisaster · 10 months

Note

appearance, sleep, and cooking/food headcanons for fingon?

ohoho my favorite boy! thank you for the ask :,)

Warm color palette! Really warm skintone, amber eyes, hair is a very dark warm-brown rather than black. Gold brings this out very well.

Rounded figure! Built lower to the ground. Softer cheeks, heart shaped face, slightly slanted oval eyes -- in sharp contrast to Turgon and Fingolfin, who are both very sharp boxy guys. Not very tall but not very short (like, random number here, but if Maedhros is 7ft tall and Turgon is like 7'10, he's maybe in the range of 5'10-6'3).

On that note, looks much more like his mother than his father (I always picture Fingolfin as kind of boney and sharp, and TALL).

Dramatic makeup looks! He has pretty dark skin and no freckles, but he will draw them on in silver or gold, and/or wear sparkly gold and silver eyeshadow. Wears a lot of red/yellow/orange tones on his lips/eyes/cheeks.

Maximalist style of dress! Bright colors, bright patterns, generally an "everything at once" kind of guy. BIG earrings, two lip rings, etc.

Also I personally think he's one of the first elves to abandon is Quenya name completely, mostly because of his guilt over the kinslaying. He won't really correct people about it, but around the time of the Quenya ban just begins introducing himself exclusively as Fingon and signing his correspondence that way.

Elves in general don't need to sleep much and Fingon strikes me as a "doesn't sleep in bed" kind of guy. He HAS a bed, which he uses exclusively for other bedroom activities, and prefers to catch short naps in the study/library/meadow/etc. Definitely weirds Hurin out by napping at his kitchen table a couple times.

For food/cooking... hm. I think he probably doesn't have much experience, having grown up as a prince, outside of basic food prep on hunts. When it's down to him, I think he'd probably be the kind of guy to take bold risks without fully knowing what he's doing. Very "yes this seasoning smells great I'm going to put a ton in the vegetables." This sometimes tastes very good and sometimes fails spectacularly.

Definitely a snacker! Especially post-Helcaraxe, he tends to have fruit/crackers/jerky/hard sugar candy in his pockets. Especially fond of apples -- his people plant and cultivate a great variety of them, and he is delighted by the fruit.

I usually imagine the Noldor princes' halls tend to have a lot of hunting hounds and such around, and they tend to sit around his chair at feasts. He's always complaining about how the dogs have no manners and are horrible beggars while continuing to feed them table scraps. This drives Fingolfin absolutely crazy. The "they wouldn't do this if you didn't feed them" conversation is had daily when the two of them are in the same place.

#lena speaks #fingon

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lavenoon · 1 year

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Eclipse has again stolen my heart and I need to write but...how would accidently undercover eclipse deal with being in love/flirted with/having a crush. Sorry to be so needy but if I wrote it wrong I would die

The boy is popular, makes me happy <3 Let's break it up a little!

Flirting with Eclipse: He might not... get it at first. The combination of "unaware of many social cues" and "doesn't expect it" just means that the more ambiguous, subtle flirting may fly entirely over his head (which is. quite a feat at 8ft excluding sunrays). When it does click though, either because you persevered until you got through his dense "defenses" or because you skipped straight to the part where you say what you want? For one, small moment, there's doubt, while his mind struggles with the surprise. But then? He's ecstatic.

Chances are he's already tried making advances himself, but he's clumsy. There's no suave flirts or smug little grins at flustering you. His flirting may completely fly over your head, too - because for someone who was "born" forced to share before becoming his own person, voluntarily sharing is what he opts for. Sharing trinkets, sharing fidgets, sharing experiences - Do you want to be the one to screw the last bit on there? Do you want to be the one to push that button? Do you want a matching fidget? This greedy, curious little gremlin wants to learn new things with you. It's what's important to him, and he hopes that you enjoy it, too.

Having a crush: Puppy with no understanding of personal space. He'll back off when you tell him, obviously, but he wants to be close and he has little concept for how close is too close. He'd drape himself over you if you'd let him! He wants to be your backpack (on legs)! Then there's the sharing I mentioned above, cranked up to the max. Lovestruck little expressions when he makes you laugh, little dazed moments where he just thinks about how amazing you are while you're doing something completely mundane, and you may have to snap him out of it a couple times.

Being in love: The crush, but he's sure now, and that's about to become your "problem". Definitely the type that hesitates just a bit before confessing - he'd have his little "Oh." moment, and some doubt may creep up again. The fear of rejection runs deeply, and the track record for people staying in his life isn't quite the best. But if you've been friendly with him, if he knows you, he'll decide that knowing for sure will be worth it, and just desperately hopes it's requited. Anxious and flustered during the confession itself - may need multiple attempts, actually. He tries to make it look natural, and because he tries at all fails spectacularly. Maybe you're helping with an experiment - and wouldn't it just be so perfect to ask right that moment? But then the moment passes much faster than expected, and he fumbles, and oh no there's fire again. The only time he'll be mad about his explosive little experiments is when they draw his focus away from you. Once he actually says the words, it'll be accompanied by stutters and some stumbling over words, with the insistence that he'd understand if you say no, he won't be mad, he just needed to say something - feel free to interrupt him here, a kiss may be a bit hard unless there's a ladder right around, but taking his hand and saying yes with a smile might just be enough to shut him up.

Oops, now he's twirling you - hope you like bear hugs with four arms <3

#answer let luce #anonymous #accidentally undercover #don't be sorry anon there are people applauding you for asking #never apologize for asking questions about the boy I love talking about the boy #hope that gives you enough of a framework! but feel free to ask more <3 #the boy is beloved and im happy

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marjoriestotch · 11 months

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MY TOLKIEN BLACK HEADCANONS because I understand him

A lot of people just chalk him up to be "a smart kid" a la kyle or wendy but dont really define it which bothers me. I think Tolkien is only really smart in say mathematics and biology and is more so an athlete than bookish. Mfer can do advanced algebra just fine but dont ask him too many questions about the civil war he just doesnt care okay.

Speaking of Tolkien has not read or seen anything okay his pop culture consumption is bizarre. He doesn't know what a harry potter is he doesn't know what star wars is and everything he knows about lotr has been against his will. He has lived off of direct to dvd disney sequels and whatever esoteric foreign artsy movie his parents are obsessed with in that week to seem so smart and pretentious. He is frankly a little too scared to ask too so he just plays along for the most part and skates by on whatever he knows second hand.

HE LOVES SPIDERS why dont we talk about how he loves spiders. Which just makes me think he LOVES bugs in general he's that kid that has an illustrated encyclopedia on bugs he reads for fun and if given the chance would go on a tangent on any random species if hes sure you wont make fun of him for it. I just know he has a lil terrarium and he would NEVER squish a bug ever in his life and he would be very upset if you did maybe distrust you even. His friends know to send him a pic of a cool bug if they come across one in the wild he loves that.

I don't think Madea is some exception to Tolkien I think he is just a very easily amused boy okay literally anything and everything makes him laugh. Tyler Perry in a dress? Hilarious. Kick a guy in the balls? Hilarious. Whoopie cushions? Puns? Banana peel? HILARIOUS. Its why he and Jimmy get along so well Tolkien is never a dull audience.

AND ON THAT NOTE i think Tolkien watches bad movies on PURPOSE cuz theyre funny in an ironic way alright he loves watching people genuinely try to make a movie and fail at it so spectacularly. Madea is a guilty pleasure tho no doubt about it.

He had a very obnoxiois karate kid phase. Not the movie I mean like he took karate classes and everyone had to know about it. You know the kind I'm talking about.

To keep it sort of brief i believe Tolkien's more of the one who gets his heart broken than be the heartbreaker. Hes very popular and his relationships are wonderful and passionate but they fizzle out fast - and not even necessarily from his end. Everyone says hes a great boyfriend and he always tries so hard but he's never "the one" and I imagine it eventually makes him a little jaded ngl, learn to take everything more casual and expect it to never really last for long. Which of course then ironically makes it a self made issue. Point is is he's the cool guy you like who never seems to care and is so effortless but deep down he cares a lot actually.

I think after the Faith+1 and Wing incidents Tolkien actually keeps his interest in music on the down low. He only plays the bass in private and skips karaoke night. Its just that the embarrassing memories make him cringe way too hard but he does genuinely love it still. You're gonna have to coax it out of him very gently.

I think he's the type to use social media in like little bursts where he joins in on specific trends and posts daily and then just stops within a week or so and a few months later when he comes back online he's surprised at his decent clout and then repeat. Very basic basic tho like selfies and five month old memes and his random opinion on whatevers relevant that may or may not age very poorly.

I don't like to think of Tolkien as the "mom friend" or whatever but I can definitely see his friend group seeking advice from him cuz hes 1) got the most relationship experience and 2) his parents are the most functional of all the parents in their group so they raised him properly to like, yknow, communicate and problem solve and stuff. A wild concept. Him actively mothering everyone tho? Not so sure about that like hes a rich only child where does he learn to take up that kind of role.

He is not above violence, drugs or alcohol LET HIM HAVE FUN for God's sake. He doesn't really smoke tobacco and he drinks socially but he is a stoner and will experiment with anything if the company's right. And obviously he'll only throw a punch if driven to his limit or in defense but my boy likes to witness some mindless violence at the very least.

Idk how to finish this post so I'll just say that Tolkien did in fact not see Black Panther IN FACT i would go so far as to say he is a comics-only truther even. That is all for now.

#tolkien black #staying up thinking about him idk idk #also if you disagree youre wrong basically because i have a doctorate in tolkien black ok

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cellard0ors · 1 year

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Fic: Pin Me (3/?)

"So, don't take this the wrong way, but I saw you last night."

"You mean when we met?" Laura asks into her cell, grinning at the sound of Travis's voice. She honestly wasn't sure if he was actually going to call. He wasn't her normal type, but there has been something about him that had appealed to her.

She supposes it was the hangdog expression he'd worn at the bar. Sure, a lot of older fellas had that face, but his had been particularly... compelling.

Not to mention it had been a long while since she had noticed anyone period. After she and Max ended things, there had been a few one time flings on the road, but for the most part she'd avoided dating.

Now, however, she found she was more open to it. Probably because Travis wasn't her normal type. It was refreshing, in a way, to actually pursue a man as opposed to a boy.

She was surrounded by boys. Boys who played make believe for a living so much so that they didn't seem to understand the difference between fantasy and real life.

For example, a man, a true one, would call. And while she had doubted he would, the fact he has just proves her point and leaves her feeling delighted.

Delighted until he pauses and says softly, shyly (embarrassedly), "Uh, no...I saw you last night on stage? Or-or I guess you'd say the ring?"

"Oh." Laura tries not to wilt but fails spectacularly, because she's sure she knows where this is going.

Upon meeting him and talking to him, Laura quickly concluded he was not a wrestling fan. Men who were, tended to pick her out quickly, even when she wasn't in costume.

Apparently she'd been incorrect and the truth stung. Even more with his next words, "It sure was... something."

Laura grimaces, prepared for an ugly turn to the conversation only for his tone to take on an awed inflection, "I mean it was...spectacular. Seeing you up there, doing those moves. How do you do it?"

The last is asked with the kind of sheer astonishment she's heard people turn towards firefighters or military men. As if what she does out there is a life risking feat.

And it can be, under the right circumstances,but it's never been something she's viewed as worthy of respect. But the way Travis makes it sound as if it is floods her with pleasure, "Oh! Um. I mean, it's... it's not that difficult..."

The sound of disbelief from him makes her giggle and she beams, "Just some simple gymnastics. I was on the team in middle school and high school. I'd planned on going into veterinary training when I graduated, but a friend of mine suggested the wrestling circuit as a way to pick up some cash over the summer between and, I dunno, I kinda liked it."

"Well it shows. You were something else out there."

"Really?"

"Yeah. My brothers are the wrestling fans. I just went along with them as a family thing. Didn't expect to see you out there - doing backflips and all."

Laura shakes her head to herself, "Didn't you tell me you're a sheriff?"

"Yeah, but it's not an enviable job. Most people hate the police - I take it you experience the opposite, being face and all," At her laugh he suddenly adds (with no small amount of insecurity), "... that's what it's called, right? Chris only told me about a lot of this stuff recently, so-?"

"Yes, yes," she manages between her chuckles, "I'm currently playing a face. I was a heel, back when I was Screamin' Siobhan, but once I moved up from the midcard-?"

"...mid-what now?"

Laura is just over the moon. He really doesn't know! And his genuine curiosity is almost novel. Clearly, it's been too long since she's really struck up a relationship with someone outside the circuit.

She explains a bit about her position in the roster and how far she's come. When she gets to how much and where she's traveled she notices a cool silence and sighs, "Yeah, I...I don't get a lot of breaks. This job is like being in the circus in more ways than one. It's a very transient lifestyle."

"Where are you headed next?"

"Detroit."

"Yeah?" He asks and then, tentatively, "I've always wanted to go to Michigan..."

The knot of excitement that forms in her belly is tangible, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Not to mention, I have been putting off my vacation for or, I don't know, six years?"

"Really? You don't say?"

He just hums and she avoids (and fails) wiggling about in her seat in excitement, "Well, if you happen to be that way on Thursday the fourteenth I might have some free time - what with the show being Saturday night and all."

"Sounds like a date." Travis returns and there's a certain tune to his voice that makes her shiver.

Sounds like a date indeed.

#hackearney #travis x laura #my writing #pin me

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evita-shelby · 5 months

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Tie your heart to mine

Chapter 18

It was easier to think of the other girl as a faceless entity who was Jan's sister.

It is difficult to know Kasia is beautiful and sweet and undeserving of the hell she’s suffering through.

Kasia Tomazeski has lost both her parents and fights for freedom in Nazi occupied Poland...

...and Lois slept with her husband.

Lois feels disgusted with herself because Harry tried to explain things to her, to break things off for good and Lois had to tell him she loved him.

Even worse, she gave him her virginity because he said he still loved her. Because everything was going to change and she wanted one thing in her life to be as it as before.

She doesn’t tell Tom any of that. She couldn’t take his disappointment in her when he discovers how stupid she was.

Why couldn’t you be more like Tom? She hears Connie’s voice say in her head.

Tom was irresponsible in almost everything except his sex life. Left when he started noticing the signs his girl had the wrong idea about him, made sure he always had sheaths to spare so there was no consequences and never went after those spoken for.

Dad would be so disappointed in her for this.

He encouraged freedom as long as it was within his lines. Bad enough she’d joined ENSA and already packed her bags, now this.

“I’m sorry, Loo.” Tom said softly and kissed the top of her head like he always does when her romances fail spectacularly.

“Do they know what’s in here?” she asks burning from the humiliation of it.

She doesn’t like pity, no one does.

Diane could understand, but Charlie? Charlie who has been nothing short of Prince Charming for her and she decided to ruin it all because she thought Harry was the One?

“They say its bad manners to look at someone’s else’s files without permission.” He answered with a bit of a scoff. Neither of them has been able to get used to how normal things like getting government files on someone was for them.

How different they were and yet Lois has never seen Tom so serious and in love as hew was with Diane.

“I suppose that’s a good thing.” Lois dried her tears and slammed the door on her past with Harry. “Won’t have them look at me with pity tonight.”

There was no way she was going to stop living for Harry, no way she was going to spend any more seconds of her life thinking about him.

Fuck him. Fuck Harry and his fucking lies.

Tom hasn’t spoken much to his father since he came that morning.

It had been a week almost, he’s leaving for Cornwall on Monday and even though he knows this is isn’t the end, it feels like it.

As if the Tom that leaves isn’t the one coming back. He knows what shellshock does to man, he knows how it is to have your dad have it and know you can’t be a normal kid or a normal teenager or even a normal adult because of it.

And yet he says this when he and his dad sit alone waiting for Lois to come home. She’d gone to get adjustments made on her ENSA uniform with Connie and Diane and putting up a damn good fight against her heartbreak by letting Charlie Shelby treat her to lunch.

“I’m gonna marry her, dad.” So you have someone taking care of you when we’re gone. So I can die knowing I existed beyond a fucking number and a grave.

Tom doesn’t need to say it, his dad did the same in the Great War. Told Josie Vera Jones he’d marry her when he left for training and made her Josie Bennett in 1916 because she was two months pregnant with him.

“I said the same to your grandfather when I signed up in ’14.” His father stopped smoking when mum got sick, when the smoke made her cough until she spat blood and yet he takes one out of his pack and gave into the old habit.

Only did so when he was terrified to death.

Like when Lois started going out with boys or got her first gigs and they feared some bastard would take advantage of her. Several times they’d ended up here smoking on the table after Tom thrashed a man getting handsy with his little sister.

Or when he taught Tom how to drive on a borrowed car and he crashed it because he saw a pretty girl walking by the street.

Tom couldn’t help but laugh at the memory, him and his dad sitting on the table wondering how the fuck they’d pay for it. Sitting here being closer than they’ve ever felt even if his father is angry and terrified underneath the veneer.

“And what did grandad say?” Tom asks taking a drag from his cigarette in an odd imitation of the man in front of him. It had been he who taught him to smoke, when he’d caught him with a fag on his mouth wanting something to calm him down after the first time he’d been sent to jail.

“You need a ring for that.” His dad answered and stood up with a groan and proceeded to dig up mom’s things that he kept in his room.

Lois had all her things, the clothes she could refit to match the fashion and her size, the jewellery she treasured and even the perfume.

But there was one thing she hadn’t gotten: her wedding ring.

‘That’s for the lucky girl you’re going to marry, Tommy,’ she had said and told them how granddad gave dad the ring grandma used to wear as his blessing.

Back then Douglas was brash and carefree and happy, just like Tom was, or so what’s left of their family and friends love to point out.

War made a man out of him, the men like to say.

Your mother made a good man out of me, his dad says when they visit her grave.

“I don’t even know if she’ll say yes, dad. Save the ring for later.” Later when I can prove to myself I can.

“It’s like I’m hearing myself talk. Next thing you’ll say is that you’re moving out once you have enough for a house.” His father laughed nostalgically, like he did when telling them stories from his youth.

“I suppose we’re more alike than we think, aren’t we?” Tom can’t help but grin as he opened the ring case and saw the simple gold band carved with orange blossoms.

He has never been this serious in his life, as if knowing it could end any moment had changed something in him.

“Yeah, we are.”

He is not stupid.

He knows she doesn’t mean it when she flirts and touches him as they walk alone in the park.

Even worse, Charlie knows she doesn’t mean it when she kisses him because it would hurt Harry who came here with his little brother-in-law.

It’s not the first time Charles Absalom Shelby has felt used, and it won’t be the last.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” She apologizes after he doesn’t reciprocate the kiss.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have.” He could’ve kissed her back, given into his attraction to her, but Charlie wants a woman who is with him for the right reasons and not because she’s hurt. “I’m not a toy, Lois.”

“I know.” Lois said looking ahead in embarrassment.

“But if you wanted me to help you hurt him, you could just ask, as a friend would.” He makes it all worse.

“As a friend?” she asks noticing the change with displeasure.

“As a friend.” He nods. Charlie had pursued her and given up, now she was disappointed in not having him after wasting her time on Chase.

He’d treated her for lunch as a friend would. If she wants him, she’d have to do the chasing and the wooing from now on.

“And what things could I ask of you, Charlie?” she asks turning on her charm all the way.

It shouldn’t be surprising that they end up in his hotel room and thanking his lucky stars he came prepared for this.

#diane shelby #charlie shelby #tie your heart to mine #tom bennett x oc #tom bennett world on fire #lois bennett world on fire #lois bennett x oc #ewan mitchell #ewanverse #tom bennett x diane shelby #peaky blinders au #world on fire fic

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