#i know my brain is dumb and lashing out and trying to be toxic in the only ways it knows how. i get that

[originalitysquared]

..

[thisisthehardestthing]

18+

DEDICATED TO @undermattsun​​

Skate Rat! Kyoutani x Reader

So, if you’ve been following me these past two (?) months, you’ll know that I have become obsessed with Miki’s blog. Not only is she a talented writer with a big brain, but she’s funny and cool and a wonderful person to talk to that has not yelled at me for my dumb thoughts and sliding into her dm’s. Yet.

Thank you, Miki, for giving us Skate Rat content and being you.

Warnings: uh, weed, spit, toxic behavior: possessive, jealous? i dunno. Aged up. They’re in college.

:)

Kyoutani sits across the room, the red flame of the lighter flickering in his wild eyes as he lights the bong, chest expanding as the milky smoke vanishes into his body. His eyes close as he holds his breath; you inadvertently hold yours. When they open and the smoke floats up, he doesn’t look any more relaxed, the frown deepening as he passes the contraption to his left. His bleached hair, with coils tight against his scalp, blends into the eggshell-shaded wallpaper of the basement.

You dated Kentaro for a year when you decided to end things with him. Well, dated is a strong term. You banged for a week straight, he would ghost you, then hit you up again three weeks later saying he was “busy” with “stuff”, before seeing you nightly again for a couple more weeks, this pattern on repeat. And fuck it, he looks good. His loose shirt is unbuttoned save for the third, showing off the tattoo saying ‘MAD DOG’ across his sternum in small block letters, underneath multiple slim silver and gold chains.

He knows you’re watching, making it a point to guide the bong to the girl’s lips next to him. You can see his mouth move as he whispers something sickenly encouraging to her– he always liked ‘em green and fresh– but he laughs when she coughs, dainty, tiny hands clutching at the chest of her too-cute dress. You watch her let out a breathy giggle, but she’s scared, her hands trembling from his overpowering pressure (and probably smell, axe body spray mixed with hash). Your eyes roll as you take another sip from the vodka-red bull in a cheap, scratched, yellow Mickey Mouse cup–you found it in a cupboard in the kitchen.

But the cup bounces, missing your lips and splashing onto your white t-shirt when someone falls down next to you.

“Fuck, Oikawa!” you shout, leaning forward so that the drink runs directly to the already stained carpet. You spot a drop of blood from the night Mattsukawa smashed his nose while crushing a can against his forehead. The man in question chuckles, slinging his long legs over yours as he settles into the couch.

“Reparations?” he holds out a half-smoked blunt, and you glance at his strangely slender fingers, before sighing and taking a deep breath. It burns, you cough, and Oikawa grabs it back from you, checking to make sure it didn’t extinguish.

“What is that mixed with?”

He just raises his eyebrows, taking a leisurely drag. As the smoke filters out of his lips, he says, “Iwa rolled it.”

You wrinkle your nose, but then fall back as your heart drops into your stomach and the entire room spins. Groaning, you clutch at your temple, throat raw from just that puff.

“It’s mixed with dokha,” Oikawa whispers into your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe. 

You mumble a weak ‘get off’, bumping him back with your shoulder. He’s too close. You feel sick, as though stuck in a vacuum and your feet got sucked in before your head, stomach lurching up– 

“Move,” you curse, shoving Oikawa’s legs from yours as you bend over, head between your knees, eyes screwed tightly shut. Oikawa’s teasing laugh echoes in your ears as you dry heave, forcing yourself to ride the high like a bronco. You’ve had worse, you tell yourself over and over, whispering it as you begin to level out, mellow out, the buzz starting a static that tingles from your toes to your brain.

When you look up again, the room spins, pleasantly. You’re in a galaxy, tumbling through time and space, and you fall back to watch the stars pass by behind your eyelids. Oikawa’s legs find their way back over your knees, but you’re floating too far away to care.

“How does it feel?” he whispers. You can feel the stardust tickling your nose.

“Fantastic.”

You force your eyes open, with more effort than necessary, and your gaze instantly locks with Kyoutani’s. His thick lashes that rim his eyes are a magnet that you find yourself struggling to look away from. That cutesy girl is straddling him, his tattooed hands on the globes of her ass as he guides her grind against his groin. You’d almost feel jealous if it wasn’t for his intense stare licking over your body, swallowing you whole. The girl’s head travels slowly as she sucks on his neck, her fingers poking out from the tops of his hair where she clutches at it. You’re calm, confident even, when your arm lifts and your middle finger extends. It almost feels like you can touch him from across the room. His frown deepens as he rips his stare from you and instead focuses on pulling the girls lips against his.

“Hey, Oikawa,” you chirp, interrupting whatever the fuck he was prattling on about, “wanna fuck?”

Glancing sidelong at his shocked face, you see his lips turn up in a small smile with a shrug, “sure, why not.”

Oikawa lurches to his feet, gentleman-like as he helps you up from the couch, lanky body bending over yours as you find your footing on the constantly osmoting floor. You can feel Kyoutani’s eyes on you as you take Oikawa’s hand to lead him to the stairs of the basement. Hell, even Iwaizumi’s eyes burn into your back as you disappear into the main area of the house.

The lights are brighter here, the smell almost strange as you emerge from the fog and into where Iwaizumi’s mother keeps a clean house. It’s slightly sobering, unfortunately, and you look back at the man dragged by your hands into the bathroom just off the hallway. His eyes shine with excitement, and you sigh as the door closes, locks and his hands find your face.

His fingers have the slightest scent of tobacco to them as his lips press against yours. They’re hard, almost forceful, and you find your nose crunching before you try and relax into the kiss. You haven’t had any action in a while, so you might as well see it through and then dip for the night. The room tilts when your eyes close, letting Oikawa lean over you as you bend back and into him. His palms slide down your neck, squeezing and pawing at your breasts while your mouths slip open and tongues collide.

You think about the eyes that stared at you as you walked from the room, probably knowing exactly where you are, what you’re about to do. It makes your heart pound in your ears, heat flooding to your core, in a steady rhythm. It gets faster, faster and you pull away from oikawa’s mouth with a gasp.

“I swear to God, Toru, you better open this fucking door right fucking now.”

The door rattles in it’s frame as you hear Kyoutani call out in his rough growl from the other side. Oikawa looks down at you, then over his shoulder with a puzzled expression, eyebrows contorting on his pretty face as he pulls himself back from his high-driven lust.

“Are you and Kyo…?” he asks, hands dropping from where they had slipped under your shirt. You shake your head, and Kyoutani bangs on the wood again.

“Toru! I know yo–”

Oikawa whirls around and opens the door fluidly, leaning casually against the frame, “Dude, calm down.”

You peek around Oikawa’s chest, crossing your arms as you stare at the seething man, steam practically billowing from his nose– or it might be the last bong rip remnants. He catches your amused stare, his frown deepening as he pushes past Oikawa, into the bathroom, and between the both of you.

“You can’t sleep with him,” he says over his shoulder to you, keeping a guarded gaze at the man in front of him. Oikawa whistles lowly, whining a ‘dude’, eyes scanning over the situation while your cheeks begin to burn. Did he just–

“You can’t tell me who I can and can’t fuck.” You shove Kyoutani on his shoulder, the deep maroon shirt a soft cotton. It takes you by surprise; he always chooses the best fabric. You blink, bringing yourself back to the moment. Back to focus. You’re too high to start an argument.

“Of course I can.”

At Kyoutani’s words, Oikawa quickly raises his hands, saluting a bye to you as he turns on his heel and strides back to the basement, removing himself from the inevitable combustion. Your fists ball tightly, and you quickly shut the door before Kyoutani walks out. It slams closed.

“Why would you think that?” your voice is dangerously low, and Kyo looks over his shoulder at you, eyes slowly tracing up the line of your arm that presses against the wood by his head.

It feels like minutes pass for him to turn around, his body twisting so slowly–head first, then shoulders and chest, then his hips–before he’s finally facing you. The multitude of chains on his neck glints in the ugly fluorescent lighting, and his eggshell hair is stark against the green tiled wall in your peripheral, but his presence swallows you completely. That tattoo is a beacon to your gaze. ‘MAD DOG’, beware, stay back, screams out and you swallow as you lift your stare into his eyes.

The thought of how unfair it is that boys always have such thick lashes crosses your mind, but then Kyoutani licks his lips, and you smell the weed, axe body spray–his scent, just wafting through the air as it fills the bathroom. He shrugs, then chews a hangnail from his left ring finger, not intimidated in the least by your anger.

“You’re mine.”

Suddenly, you’re looking through a crystal glass, his face swirling in a kaleidoscope as memories of his possessiveness rush back into you. A bulldog. He looks at you like a toy, his honey eyes glazing your body until it’s slow and sticky.

“I’m not ‘yours’,” you quote, feeling the heat roll off his body in waves. You take a step back. His hand darts out to hold your neck, strong palms gripping your nape.

“Yes. You are.”

And he crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your protests down his gruff throat and pulling you tightly into his chest. It takes you by surprise, your gasp letting him burst into your mouth with tongue and teeth, and you claw to push him away. The hand on your neck controls you, turns you until you hit the sink with your lower back.

“Kyo,” you mumble, turning your head. His lips moving against your jaw with fire, possessiveness leaching into your skin. “Kyo, stop.”

He’s harder than you remember, your hands gliding down his chest as you push weakly at his sternum. Each touch of his pillowy lips has your knees buckling. His free hand thumbs the hem of your shirt, and you remember something,

“Isn’t that girl looking for you?”

Kyoutani falters, pulling back to stare at you with apparent confusion.

“What girl?”

You beat at his chest, finally able to shove him away. He truly has a one track mind; when he has his sights on something, nothing else matters.

“The one downstairs, that was all over you, that you were all over.”

You press two fingers into the side of his neck where she left a faint mark.

Realisation flickers in his eyes before a lopsided smirk takes over. He grabs the edge of the sink with his tattooed knuckles, pinning his hips against yours. The clouds that are his lips come tantalisingly close to yours again. You scowl.

“You jealous?”

Oh god, you roll your eyes, “you’re the one that ran after me.”

He frowns, mouth turning down, erection crushing painfully into the bone of your groin.

“She’s dumb, can’t handle her weed, and I’m not going to take care of that right now.”

The snort that comes out of your nose surprises you. The feeling of anger towards Kyoutani reluctantly begins to melt away, although you’re slightly worried about leaving that girl alone with the boys downstairs.

“I don’t think I was actually going to fuck Oikawa,” you admit, stretching your arms past his head and resting them in a dangle on his shoulders. You stare into his eyes, stuck like a fly in their syrup.

He slams his lips into yours, the force bending you backwards so that your forearms lock behind his neck to keep yourself close. You’re more prepared for the onslaught of his kiss, tongues dancing to the memory of how it used to be. Fuck, no ones a better kisser than Kyoutani. And you’re breathless when he pulls away to peel the shirt over your head, fingers heading straight for the clasp of your bra. The one track mind flooding back. 

Then again, on weed, you always feel like you’d die if you weren’t fucked right away, desperation seeping into your bones.

Your fingers undo the single button keeping his shirt closed, pushing it off his body and to the floor while he sucks and nibbles on your earlobe. His mouth is hot against your cold skin. You vaguely register that the door is unlocked, but when he grinds against the seam of your jeans, your thoughts are replaced with just how much you missed being touched by him.

Your bare chests press together, disrupting your thoughts of why you stopped sleeping with him. Your nipples harden against the cool metal and small raised ink of his multiple tattoos. The intricate lines of the moth on his breast has you fluttering, and you moan into his mouth.

“Off.” Kyoutani pulls at the loops of your pants, commanding you, making you unbutton your jeans in between sloppy kisses.

You kick the heel of your left shoe off, and your mouth is suddenly lonely when he drops to his knees and drags the pants down your legs hastily. You tug your leg out of the jeans so that you can widen your knees, and hop onto the edge of the sink. Kyo’s rough palms push your chest back until your head hits the mirror and the faucet presses into your spine, but your discontent is cut off when he forces his head between your knees to bite at the tender meat of your inner thighs.

He takes a deep sniff, nose nuzzling into your panties, and you feel your chest flare up, holding your breath.

“You stink,” Kyoutani says with a grin, staring up at you with glazed eyes. Embarrassment burns in your face, you feel yourself crashing down and you kick his shoulder.

“Shut up, it’s not supposed to smell like roses,” you huff, almost closing your legs around his head. He chuckles, deep and throaty, and stops you, a hand keeping one knee open wide. His other comes to your mound, and you feel his thumb pawing just off-centre to your clit.

“A bit to the right, asshole.”

He grumbles, but his finger shifts and you moan, your voice echoing against the tiles, bouncing into your body as you grip the edge of the sink, abdomen tightening. You know it drives him wild to hear you, and your eyes close to revel in the pleasure that’s beginning to build.

“Nah, keep your eyes on me.” Kyotani stops his movements, thumb dropping lower as he feels the slick that’s seeping through the cotton, tucking the fabric between your folds. You glare down at him, eyes shooting open, and shift your ass on the cold ceramic that’s starting to bruise your bones. You feel the static starting in your toes, and you scrunch them at that same time that his tongue presses, flat and wide.

You flinch at how wet his mouth is, (does he even get cotton mouth?) how he knows exactly how to press against your skin to have you grinding your clit against his nose as he laps you up and leaves you thoroughly soaked, tingling. His lips move to suck on your sensitive nerves and you feel those first waves travel through you. Struggling to keep your balance on the sink edge, you arch your back from the faucet, gripping his hair as you pant and groan into your orgasm.

“Oh God,” you moan as he pulls away, licking his lips as he watches your rolling eyes and twitching thighs.

“No, just me,” he smirks, grabbing your jaw with rough fingers and bringing you forward. You wince as the skin beneath your ass rubs over the bone, peeling from the ceramic. You focus on his eyes, the golden glint in them, and at his contorting lips. 

He spits into your mouth.

He lets it fall onto your soft tongue, watching it as it slides down and you swallow it. Your tart taste zings your nerves, and your eyes roll up at how dirty that just was. He chuckles, fingers sliding down to grasp at your hips and pull you off the sink.

Your knees are weak, but you stand, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders. Your right foot is asleep in your shoe, and you lean onto your left.

“That was gross,” you moan, but you still feel your core clenching in need for more. You grab the back of his head and bring his mouth to yours, licking a long stripe up his jaw. The slight stubble of a fresh shave pricks at your tongue, and you bite his ear. He shudders, pulling his body tighter against yours. The buckle of his belt presses into your stomach, a cold metal, an off-white knock off.

“Do you have a condom?” you whisper, letting your breath tickle his cartilage, feeling the goosebumps rise on the back of his neck. You run his chains through your fingers as he turns his head, raising an eyebrow.

“No, we don’t need one.”

Suddenly your chest combusts, and you burst out laughing, forehead falling to his shoulder.

“I do not know where your dick’s been these past few months, Kyo.”

He shrugs, his right hand moving to rub teasing circles into your hip, his other hand lifting your head with your hair.

“You don’t know where my tongue’s been either, and you just came all over it.”

Your mouth shuts, you huff, and push a single finger into his chest, “no rubber, no lovin’, baby.”

He groans, rolling his head, his neck cracking lightly.

“I’m clean.”

“Kyo, no.”

“Just a thigh fuck?”

You give him a pointed stare–you want him in you–and untuck the wedgie of your panties from your folds, beginning to pull your foot back into your jeans. His hand flies to your shoulders, his other digging deep into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet.

“Wait, wait, fine, I’ve got one here.”

You smile. You knew it. You did date him for a year.

While he fiddles with his velcro billfold, you tug on his belt, loosening it until it falls open and his pants sag. Your hands stroke languidly up his hard length, while he angrily rips into the golden foil packet with his teeth. He smacks your hand away, and you pout, but watch as he unfurls his thick cock from his underwear. The thought of being stretched out by him again has your toes tingling and fingers twitching. His pants are pulled down to just below his ass–he has the kind that juts out and perks up.

Kyo’s lips find yours again, warm and quick. You feel him fiddling between your bodies, unrolling the condom down his shaft. Once it’s on, his hand grabs your hair, fist tight until you whine at the tug, your neck stretching out for him.

“I really hate condoms,” he grunts, then pulls your skin between his teeth as he sucks a blooming blue mark onto the column of your throat. 

His free hand wanders to your pussy, fingers sliding over the drenched cotton, peeling it to one side so that a thick finger slides inside. You find your fingers in his hair, tugging it as he pumps inside you, his lips never leaving your neck. Your skin bruises, glistens with his spit as he breathes behind your ear, nipping at the lobe. You pull him back against your lips.

As your mouths collide, his cockhead taps at your folds, his fingers circling around your waist to grab at your hips.

“Turn around.”

You glance down to double check, before turning around and come face-to-face with your bloodshot eyes, puffy lips and bitten skin. You watch as Kyoutani spits into his palm, the sound echoing along with your heaving breathing.

“How romantic,” you deadpan while he smooths it over his covered cock. 

He glares up at you, but smirks when he glances back down at your back, the curve of your ass. You make a show of peeling your underwear down until just below your rear, showcasing your cunny for him. Kyoutani grunts, fingers instantly reaching to spread your skin apart.

“Shit, I’ve missed this pussy,” he mumbles, more to himself than you, but you shiver, arching your back. You missed his dick, but you’d never tell him that.

“Fuck me, Kyo” you moan, catching his eyes in the reflection, the malicious smile that spreads on his lips.

“If you insist.”

Then the cold tip of the condom presses against your folds, your slick ample enough that he starts to slip inside. Your fingers grip the ceramic, your eyes rolling back as you feel that stretch that only he can give you. 

Kyoutani enters you slowly, savoring the way you pulse and unfurl around him as he disappears inch by inch inside your beautiful body. A body that was made for his cock, for him. That thought raises goosebumps on his arm, his lower lip pulling between his teeth. Not enough of you is marked as his.

You wriggle against him, whining to feel completely full. His warm palm presses against your middle-back, deepening the arch, his other hand grabbing a handful of ass that sends a dull throb of pain that makes you clench around him. You briefly see his eyes flutter, but when he sees you smiling triumphantly, he slams in, fully sheathed.

You yelp, jerking forward, palm slamming to the mirror before your head hits it.

“Careful,” you pant, breathing deeply, moaning as he leans over you and places a gentle kiss to the top of your shoulder.

That’s the last thing he does you remember coherently. His hips pull out, and he begins his relentless pace, pistoning so that you shake against the sink. He has you bumping into the edge of the ceramic until you’re sure you have bruises against the bone. Curses tumble out of your lips, his name floating around you as endless pleasure pours through your pores.

You don’t know if it’s the high, but you can see stars. Each rut into you pulling your core tighter, clenching around him as his cock kisses your cervix. You vaguely register that warm palm pushing you down even lower, your cheek grazing against the cool metal of the faucet. A particularly rough thrust has your hand flailing, the water turning on and running cold against your heated flesh. Is it misting? You gasp up when it pours into your mouth, water dripping down your chest and between your breasts as he laughs. You brace yourself against the mirror.

In your shock, your body tightens, the slick between your legs spreading messily as he continues to pound into you. You’re just so wet and he’s so warm. A little too warm.

“Fuck, tell me you’re mine,” Kyoutani growls, staring at the way he disappears into your willing body, your aching body. You grit your teeth in defiance. His fingers reach around to rub tantalising circles into your clit, his teeth graze the smooth skin of your back as his moans sink into your skin. Your head drops back in ecstasy.

“Say it!” he barks, thrusts getting sloppier, but his fingers drift away from your clit.

“I’m yours!” you plea, your mouth to keep that coil from unravelling. You feel that pressure, the electricity as it courses up your spine. “I’m yours.”

It’s all you repeat, begging him not to stop until you see nothing but green and yellow and white and, fuck. Your orgasm has you collapsing, your knees buckling in so that you’re held up only by the edge of the sink and Kyo’s hands around your waist, still circling your clit as you draw him into your cunt.

He moans your name, shuddering to a halt inside you, cheek resting sweatily against your skin. You catch your breath, the ascension of your orgasm has you floating and every single hair on your body prickles with hypersensitivity. It almost hurts. The water from the faucet drips off your chest, your hands sliding on the rim of the sink, your thighs slipping together–

Wait.

No.

“Mother fucker!” you groan, shaking him off you as you turn around to stare at his bare dick, the condom discarded and forlorn on the floor. “How fucking dare you.”

 “You told me you’re mine,” he shrugs, wiping the left over cum leaking from the head and licking it with a satisfied grin. Tucking himself back into his pants and picking up his shirt, he continues, “you’ve still got an IUD, right?” 

You just stare incredulously at his cockiness. He pulls the burgundy hand towel from a rung and places it in your limp hand. Your skin crawls, feeling violated, but you’d be lying if you weren’t still turned on by his blatant disregard of your feelings.

“Asshole.”

He smiles, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, “thanks, I’ll call you.”

You know he won’t. You grab his chains, ensnaring his swollen lips with yours, before he leaves you messy, naked and bruised. Exactly how you like it. 

------

<3 I hope you liked it Miki.

I wanted to make Oikawa cry, but didn’t know how.

This is extra, I thought about writing it in but didn’t know how to end it so:

He smiles, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, “thanks, I’ll call you.”

You know he won’t. You grab his chains, ensnaring his swollen lips with yours, your hands snake between your thighs.

Smack! You slap some of his dripping cum against his cheek, laughing as he angrily wipes at it with the back of his hand.

[isroselalondebisexual]

What do you think Jade Lalonde, Rose Harley, and Dave Egbert would be like? I've already seen some analysis on John Strider so i don't wanna force you into rehasing anything ^^;

Jade Lalonde, my girl Jade raised by a Permissive parent, probably wouldn’t look toooooooo terribly different from canon Jade. Her interests are well financed, and she’s a good self-motivator, which is probably good because showing off her achievements to a drunken parent isn’t going to get the same response as a coherent parent. Of course, Mom is super proud of her brilliant daughter, and of COURSE she loves her super duper dearly and thinks Jade is the most intelligent girl alive, but it can get a little frustrating for Jade to explain her interests, and then ten minutes later realize her mom hasn’t retained a word. This Jade’s gonna be more acclimated to frustration and broken expectations, which is gonna manifest itself in two ways. She’s not gonna respond much at all when she’s disappointed, sometimes by really major things that she SHOULD get pissed off about, or she’s going to blow the fuck up over seemingly minor shit that most people would be able to brush off. But it’s more about the principle of the thing than the actual expectation that got broken, y’know? Probably gonna be sneakier than canon Jade, able to manipulate the situation to get her mom to actually DO stuff she needs her to, whether that be through passive aggression or batting her eyelids or setting up a situation so her mom “conveniently” will be reminded of certain things, and that’s gonna carry over into her other relationships as well, entirely unintentionally at first, that’s just sorta how she’s used to operating. Her role, then, as the Witch of Light, combined with that naturally honed ability to manipulate the situation with intelligence and a calculated amount of luck, is going to be one that comes naturally to her, and she’s going to be a HELLRAISER. She’s going to be UNPARALLELED. There will be no imp nor ogre nor time travelling demon who spits destruction from his maw that will be able to stand against her. She’s here, she’s brilliant, and she and her friends will be catching no unlucky breaks because she is the one whose will Luck bends to.

Rose Harley, raised by a dog and some chess people, alone on an island. Probably gets pretty entrenched in her know it all bossy phase pretty quick, but is less sure of herself. Doesn’t get a lot of positive feedback aside from her dog and some chess people who she’s pretty sure she’s smarter than, but that makes human interaction even harder for her, and she’s never really been good at interpersonal stuff to begin with. Lots of false confidence, I think, but suffers from impostor syndrome pretty badly. She WANTS to belong in the group, she really really wants to be involved and included and someone who BELONGS there, but can’t shake the nagging feeling that everyone else is a regular human being and she’s. Weird. And not in a good way. Gonna be more anxious than her canon counterpart, I think. Her favorite books she’s read 1000 times over and she’s got SUPER in-depth thoughts and analysis for the stuff she takes interest in, a very very brilliant girl who is never sure when “sharing” becomes “oversharing” and when “odd in a fun way” becomes “Rose that’s creepy.” Her role as the Seer of Space goes along well with being awake on Prospit prior to the Game even starting, as she has dealt with visions of the future all her life. Unfortunately, since space is all-encompassing, she’s not seeing what is fortuitous, or what WILL happen, or even what SHOULD happen, she’s seeing what happens in pretty much any timeline anywhere and it’s her task to sit down, think about what she’s Seen, and parse together whether they should or shouldn’t take that path. Her honed analytical skills will be pushed to their limits and brought to task over and over again, but through her smarts and what she has Foreseen, she is able to direct their group and conduct them in such a way that the new universe is spawned and they are able to win. The fact that she is SO CRUCIAL to their success helps her feel more like part of the group, but presents a NEW problem of wondering if maybe now they’re just pretending to be interested in her for her abilities. Her big hurdle is allowing herself to see that she is loved and wanted, and she truly does belong with them.

Dave Egbert is a kinda nerdy dude, he takes his camera with him everywhere and is always taking selfies or posting stuff to his instagram and did you hear? I heard someone say he has a collection of like, roadkill or something. Dave absolutely has a collection of dead shit. Also cicada shells that show up on the trees and bushes, because hey man cicada shells are cool. He’s super into his dumb nerd shit like video games and even reads that dumb gamebro magazine that he damn well KNOWS is dumb but he likes it and he’s not embarrassed about his interests! He knows the stuff he likes isn’t cool and doesn’t try to pass it off as cool, he just enjoys himself and fuck the haters. He ADORES his dad, was definitely one of those kids that began crying the MOMENT his dad dropped him off at daycare or smth, very attached but also complains about him sometimes, because kids complain about their parents, especially since Dad Egbert is the type of dude to walk up in front of his kid’s friends and use the embarrassing toddler nicknames like “sport” or “squirt” or smth and Dave’s friends are like “lmao your dad actually calls you ‘sport’ I thought that only happened in movies” and Dad also has like, a wallet full of Dave’s pictures and Dave is just like “daaaaaad” but also heck yes he was an ADORABLE baby so he sorta thrives off the attention. Has the biggest, dumbest crush on John imaginable. Dad found out Dave was queer not because Dave came out, but because Dave is just SO OBVIOUS about his stupid giant big dumb crush on John and Dad just sorta… quietly accepted this about his son and tries to be a good parent however he can. He’s not the most well-educated about queer stuff but he always tries his best to be respectful and that goes doubly now that he knows his kid isn’t straight. Dave having a supportive parent is a very good concept and one I am wholly behind in literally every way. His role as Knight of Breath is the defender of freedom, which probably means he must first liberate his consorts from his denizen, and then has to go a step further to protect his friends, probably from their own neuroses. Jade thinks she has to leap through all these mental hoops, but she doesn’t, Rose thinks she has to PROVE her worth, that she’s valuable, but Dave would love his sister even if she couldn’t do anything for them, John has been trapped in this toxically masculine, angry place for years and Dave can help him out of there, help him find peace and acceptance even within himself, Dave can pry back the dark gunk that’s been coating John’s soul and let him breathe freely, possibly for the first time in his life.

John Strider, we’ve touched on so I’ll just go over briefly here, but I like to keep these asks done in sets and now that I’ve set a pattern I’m not breaking it. John would end up one of those nasty, nasty, angry bullies. Bro is toxic, abusive, hypermasculine, and unpredictable, which means John winds up angry, lashing out, and hypermasculine as well. He goes way too far, way too often, and doesn’t apologize, total jock stereotype from oldtimey movies and shit, strong and athletic and attractive and just plain mean. Acts like he’s hot shit because whenever he’s at home he’s painfully reminded that he is small, and weak, and can’t actually do anything. Dave is his bro and he likes him plenty but he makes a lot of mean spirited gay jokes to start, probably as a cover for his own identity crisis that he has buried so deep deep down inside him you’re gonna need a shovel to unbury that shit, and is oblivious to Dave’s crush on him. Has a soft spot for Jade, who is kinda the only person who can get John to talk about his feelings frankly and honestly, and probably has a crush on Rose because he thinks that that’s what he’s supposed to do. She’s a girl, she’s his friend, that’s how heterosexuality works, right? His role as Heir of Time, I’m afraid, would be a deeply unpleasant one. What would likely happen is he directs the alpha timeline by having his offshoot timeline selves merge with his alpha self, like what Rose did from Davesprite’s timeline back in canon. But instead of just, like, ONE offshoot timeline self merging with the whole, it’s every single dead John. Every single time his friends die, he dies, every time something goes wrong, he gets to Experience that. He gets to have those memories seared into his brain, one with himself, one with every timeline that has ever existed, and it only further cements his belief that life is cruel, and uncaring, and doesn’t give a single solitary shit about him, or his loved ones, because he does love them. He’s broken inside, all warped and twisted wrong, but he does love them. It is only, and I do mean ONLY, once he and Dave manage to have their heart-to-heart, once John allows Dave in, that John is able to slowly pry out of the dark and hurting place that has stifled his soul for so long. Not to be stupidly, ridiculously cliche, but it is love that frees him, and the love between the two of them that helps him heal. John Strider and Dave Egbert would be a nigh-inevitable otp like that’s just the way this AU would work out my dudes.

*sticks m leggy out* I love getting long winded and these are fun, please share your thoughts with me my dudes.