#dont look at the layer count. dont. im fine (<- lying) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

9tzuyu · 3 years ago

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stay.

note: normally i try not to get too personal with authors notes, but #lolz feeling a little silly and goofy ig

i really debated posting this because all it is - is a huge vent/dump fic. i don't expect anyone to read this or for it to really go anywhere and that's fine with me. i'm actually a little embarrassed? i guess you could say? i don't know. a lot of issues are coming up revolving around my ed so i just had to get it out.

+ i do promise to try and work on requests and lighter stuff. i still cant afford a new computer so im doing everything from my phone. it'll take some time, i'm sorry about that. i'll try my best to get requests out as soon as i can.

warnings: talks about anorexia/eating disorders. if you decide to read this i strongly advise you to take a moment beforehand because i do go pretty in depth at some points. i dont want to trigger anyone or anything, so the warning is here.

**please note that this is heavy thought based at first before it moves onto dialogue.

**and remember this is just a vent/comfort fic i originally wrote for myself, so if it’s not as good as any of my other fics you guys like i’m sorry.

ALSO SORRY TO KILL THE HALLOWEEN SPIRIT HELP

++ please be safe tonight

ty moli for proofreading i love u <3

it was impossible to understand why such an awful thing could be glamorized

you were only ten when you first stumbled across the sites. sacred rules could be found plastered all over the home pages in cute fonts to distract from how twisted the demands were. lists of diets and calorie counting apps were always linked on the side, along with pages full of videos pertaining to weight loss.

even at a young age, you knew it was obviously all wrong, that the people running these blogs had to be sick themselves. but that didn’t stop you from continuing your exploration of the community. once you started you couldn’t stop.

by the time you were twelve, you counted on laxatives and self-induced vomiting to ease your insecurities. it worked for a while, but then it wasn’t enough. you had to do more, be better than the person you were a few months prior.

at thirteen, you joined group chats and ran your own little blog tied to those who could relate. the praise for losing weight easily became your biggest motivator. because if you were the smallest, you were the best. within a few years, you’d been perfectly trained into thinking that less was good, and that becoming more was the worst thing you could ever be.

you were taught that losing hair and bruises on your skin were the things you wanted. if you didn’t have those, then you were hopeless, not enough. others in the community told you to look up to those cliche, horribly written characters with eating disorders. no matter how many stereotypes and stigmas they gave off, those characters would always be praised some way or another. you weren’t shocked to say that reading winter girls did you no favors at all.

the next few years were on and off between misery and glimpses of happiness. it was never ending. nonetheless, you ignored what every therapist told you and remained firm on the belief that your body was different from the rest. your body wouldn’t go too far like the others because you were strong. you’d come so far already, why would you stop now?

you denied your diagnosis of anorexia because nothing was wrong. you weren’t in a hospital bed dying of heart failure. why were you supposed to believe what you were doing wasn’t right when nothing serious has gone wrong? that was your point, although you knew somewhere in your mind it wasn’t normal to cry over a turkey sandwich or panic at the thought of even smelling food.

so you stayed true to your routine of hiding food, packing on layers of concealer, and lying straight through your teeth when asked if you’d stuck to your meal plan.

it never lasted long though because despite your best efforts, your body would eventually give away the truth on its own. weigh-ins became impossible to trick, your extra small clothes hung two sizes too big over your body. anyone with eyes could see that you’d been less than truthful the entire time.

as you got older, you found that some years were better than others. your body could be healthy and you found yourself genuinely enjoying those around you. friends and family said you were more fun to be around. during those times they didn’t have to worry so much, they could laugh at lame jokes you’d tell without thinking it might be the last one they’d ever hear.

during those years, your eating disorder was much more quiet. you were able to eat food and not feel as guilty as you would when you were sick. the thoughts were always there; they were just more manageable than before.

but somewhere in your twenties, you found yourself still stuck in the cycle introduced to you at the tender age of ten. you were old enough now to know and believe what you were doing was wrong, but the fear of facing and fighting back against your eating disorder was too scary of a thought for you to handle.

you knew now that when you were younger people brainwashed you into believing smaller was better. they took the lighter side of eating disorders and turned them into goals you’d want to reach.

the people you’d met on pro-anorexia websites romanticized the fuck out of the disease, leading you to believe you’d be beautiful and envied by others as long as you had a gap between your thighs and size zero pants around your waist. you thought someone would’ve wanted you as long as you were frail and dainty (two words commonly misused to describe someone who was actually weak and dying).

it was a mystery to you at sixteen why you were so miserable when you were promised happiness and self-confidence. girls didn’t envy you like you’d been told they would. instead they’d stare at you, weirded out by how freakishly skinny you were. your name was constantly in people’s mouths at school, everyone wondering why you’d ever want to look like that.

friendships didn’t last long either. you wore people out with your constant need to skip out last minute on plans that had been scheduled for over a week. things didn’t make your case any better when you’d snap at your friends for wanting to get something to eat because they were hungry. a few small, petty arguments too many, and they’d be on their way as far from you as they could go.

you’d never felt more alone in your life when even your longest friends started to grow tired of your behavior.

why couldn’t they think about how tired you were of it? you are with yourself 24/7 after all.

those in charge of the sites forgot to mention all the extremes you’d learn to go to when it came to avoiding or getting rid of food. it was more than just sneaking dinner into your dog's mouth. for you, it was hiding sacks of vomit in your closet, throwing them in a large plastic bag the night before trash day. for you it was throwing up in your friend's front yard while they ran inside for a few minutes to get something. for you it was hitting yourself in the stomach for over an hour hoping to replace hunger pain with physical pain against your body.

no one ever mentioned the insane beliefs that tagged along with anorexia. like the ones you had where you thought fast food water had calories in it because it was surrounded by the smell of food, or thinking that shampoo and advil had hidden calories in them that would somehow leak into your body.

you knew how stupid and irrational everything sounded, but those beliefs were so ingrained in your mind it was hard to challenge them.

another unmentioned concern no one cared to bring up was the fact that you’d eventually have to tell people new in your life what you’d struggled with. you told natasha awhile before you started dating her and she didn’t run off or stray away from you. you were grateful for that, but it didn’t make things very much easier for you.

if things were bad, then date nights rarely ever consisted of going out for food. this hardly ever bothered natasha too much, but you could see the occasional falter in her eyes when you told her you’d rather do something else. she’d love to take you out hold your hand as you walked to the ice cream shop after you’d eaten dinner. she’d love to enjoy a glass of wine or two at a nice restaurant with a four course meal, but you couldn’t always give her that.

there had been a few dates ruined by your eating disorder. the worst of which came just a few short months after you’d told her about your issue.

the fair was in town and natasha was over the moon about the idea of taking you with her. you weren’t in the best mindset that particular day though. the thought of being around fried, greasy food was enough to make your stomach churn, but you saw how happy she was and didn’t want to ruin her the surprise she had for you.

half way through the night you had a panic attack, cutting the date short. words couldn’t even begin to describe how guilty you felt. natasha drove you back to hers, silence filling the air after you apologized profusely. she spent the night watching over you, making sure you didn’t do anything because she knew how angry you were with yourself.

dates like those came few and far between, especially through the years you weren’t struggling as badly.

you couldn’t say the same for now though.

you tapped your feet against the tile flooring as you sat in the lobby of your doctor's office. natasha sat next to you, hand clasped tightly over yours. she was worried. beyond worried, really.

like many times before in the previous years, you’d managed to hide your relapse quite well from others. the only reason natasha knew now was because you’d passed out on the job. you’d woken up in the hospital to her setting a glass of water on the table next to your bed.

you argued about it for three days before finally agreeing to go to the doctor.

truth be told, natasha was probably more worried about it than you were. the only thing occupying your mind was the fear of having to gain weight again, but also the chance that you might lose natasha if you didn’t get it together this time.

you weren’t a kid anymore. you knew very well she had the right to leave if she wanted to. you also knew the bind you were putting her in. if she left, natasha would run the risk of worsening your situation and in a month's time she might not ever see you again. but if she stayed, then she’d only be screwing herself over by destroying her own mental health.

neither one of those options were ones you liked.

“y/n?”

you looked up to see a nurse standing in the doorway of the lobby. natasha gripped your hand as you stood up and you nodded for her as an okay to follow you. stepping on the scale was the worst part, especially since the nurse had no idea of your current situation and decided to allow you to look at the number in front of you. natasha was about to say something, but you’d already seen what the scale said, anyway.

she did, however, grimace at the sight of how skinny your arm was when you took off your jacket for a blood pressure check. just like the rest of your body it was too thin.

“temperature and weight are low-”

you are slowly dying, was the translation.

“-but your blood pressure is just above where it should be.” she left the room after jotting down the reason for your visit, telling you that your doctor would be in shortly.

you spent the next fifteen minutes waiting in an uncomfortable silence, watching as natasha fiddled with the ring on her index finger.

“it’ll be okay, nat.”

“we’ll see what the doctor says.”

“i’m sorry.” she sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “i know you are.”

her reply didn’t help the matter, only making you feel more guilty by the second. guilt you didn’t have room to feel when you were the one doing this to yourself.

a light knock on the door made noise and your doctor walked in, a smile on her face like the previous times you’d been in her office.

“hello dr. hill.”

“y/n,” she greeted.

the doctor flicked through your files on her computer before she addressed you herself.

“want to tell me in your own words what happened?”

you shrugged, “hit another relapse. passed out at work. argued with my girlfriend over whether or not i should be here.”

she hummed, taking your hands in her own, examining how blue your fingernails had turned. “a lot less pink from the last time i saw you.”

her stethoscope met your spine, and you inhaled, exhaling as she moved it around the back of your body.

“lungs sound fine.” you waited patiently until she finished listening to your chest. “your heartbeat isn’t where i’d like it to be, but seeing as you’re a little over twenty pounds underweight, it’s exactly where i’d expect it to be.”

dr. hill paused, jotting down a few notes on her clipboard. “i strongly recommend hospitalization.” deal breaker. you shook your head instantly, instantly regretting making the appointment.

natasha swallowed back a sob full of anger and frustration. “why not?”

“i just can’t, alright? it’s not even that bad.” you mumbled.

dr. hill stepped out into the hallway, giving you and natasha space to talk.

“did you not hear her? jesus christ it’s like talking to a brick wall with you.” she paced around the room, emotions too high for her to think properly before speaking.

“well then leave, natasha. i don’t care anymore.”

“i don’t want to! that’s the last thing i ever want to do to you. but god, why can’t you just fucking eat?”

she couldn’t stop the words from slipping from her mouth. her heart broke when she saw the look on your face.

“and why can’t you understand it’s not always about that?” you whispered to the ground.

“i know. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to say that. but please, we can do this together. i’ll there every step of the way, you just have to want it for yourself.” she pleaded, eyes watery with tear tracks tracing the edge of her jaw.

“i just want to go home. can we just go home, please?”

. . .

the smell of natasha’s dinner aired throughout the kitchen. you watched as she filled her plate with a variety of things. it looked good — good enough to eat — you couldn’t lie about that.

natasha hadn’t spoken a word to you since the appointment earlier in the day, too upset to even think about it.

you were conflicted about everything.

literally everything.

but seeing natasha sitting alone, face propped up resting against her arm, flipped something inside of you.

you could almost hear her voice telling you to try, just try, that’s all she wanted from you. the both of you knew you’d end up dead if you didn’t. and you didn’t really want that, no matter how many times you wished it would happen.

so you went to grab your own plate, filling as much as you thought you were comfortable with and sat next to nat. this was the first time you’d done this in months.

you inhaled, but made no move to take a bite.

your thoughts had never been this loud before. it was bickering back and forth, nonstop.

you wont be good anymore if you eat that.

– yes i will.

you’re disgusting.

– i’m just hungry.

it’ll go away.

– i just want to eat. it’s just food. nothing more.

you know you can’t do that. you’re bad, horrible, the worst person in the world. so be good.

“damnit!” you slammed your fork down, startling natasha.

breathe.

“you’ve got this.” natasha’s soft voice came from beside you and her hand clasped into yours. “how’s this? i can talk about something, anything you’d like to take your mind off of this.”

you cleared your throat with a small nod, “it’s almost halloween.”

“it is. do you want to do anything this year?”

“can we dress up and give away candy to the kids? and can we stay up and watch horror movies?” natasha giggled, “we sure can.”

she noticed how your fork began to circle around the food, pushing and shoving it around.

“can you take another bite?”

no.

don’t.

the metal hit your tongue, food leaving the fork and into your mouth.

“do you have any ideas as to what you would like to dress up as?”

“mmm. well i think we should definitely go as edward and bella from twilight.” you replied sarcastically.

“i love you, but there’s no way in hell you’ll get me to dress up as a sparkly vampire.”

her thumb rubbed the top of your knuckles. “another bite please. you’re almost there.”

your lip trembled and you could feel the lump in your throat start to form. you felt so stupid and humiliated that natasha had to do this for you.

with a shaky breath, you exhaled, pushing yourself once more.

“i think we should go as gay ken and barbie.” your lip twitched into a smile. “and who would you be?”

“well ken of course,” she confirmed.

“what it i wanted to be ken?”

“and what if i wanted to just wear a cat's ear headband with a black turtleneck and pants and call it a costume?”

“if you want to, we can.” the redhead smiled, shaking her head. “we can be anything your little heart desires. now, one last bite?”

and one last bite it was.

you liked that natasha didn’t clap and cheer when you finished your plate. too many times you’d been told “i’m so, so proud of you!” or “i can’t believe you actually finished!”, it was annoying. those types of things always made you feel like a child who couldn’t do anything to begin with.

instead, natasha went with a gentle “i knew you could do it” and went to put the dish in the sink. it felt nice to have someone really believe in you.

“c’mon, we can get ahead on our horror movie watching a little early.”

natasha went to grab your hand, leading you into the livingroom and onto the couch. you tensed when her arm wrapped around your body.

gross. disgusting. she shouldn’t touch you.

“hey, where’d you go just now?”

“hm? nowhere. i’m here.” she knew you were lying, but decided not to push.

natasha’s hand moved from your side up to your head, scrunching her fingers together to scrape her nails against your scalp.

not good. tainted. dirty. wrong.

“what movie would you like to watch?” she clicked the remote and scrolled through a series of horror movies.

ruined.

“bride of chucky?” when she didn’t receive a reply she pressed play anyway, knowing it was one of your favorites.

natasha tried her best to keep you as distracted as possible. she went from letting you play with her hair and rings to asking questions about the movie, despite already knowing the answers.

“we should go as chucky and tiffany. don’t you think? i’ve already got the red hair.”

why would you do that?

“yeah, that’d be fun.” your voice cracked, causing natasha’s previous hand movements to come to a halt.

“is there anything i can do to help you right now?”

“i just don’t want to be here right now.” natasha’s eyes widened, and you quickly went to clarify what you meant. “no- no- not like that! not like that at all. i just… i don’t know, i feel stupid.”

“why?”

“we have a bathroom. i just ate.” not a second later and natasha put the pieces together.

“oh.”

you nodded, “it’s stu-”

“it’s not stupid. it’s triggering.”

natasha moved to get off the couch, disappearing out of your sight. you didn’t have the energy to try and see what she was doing, so you stayed put.

“let’s go for a drive. i know a spot you might like. it’s quiet, away from the city. we can just talk or listen to music. we could also just sit in silence if you want, i don’t mind. whatever it takes until you feel ready to come back.”

you didn’t bother trying to tell her that she didn’t have to do this because she wouldn’t listen anyway. natasha’s stubbornness was honestly one of the few things that’s saved you.

“nirvana? stevie nicks? what are you in the mood for?” natasha asked you softly, thumb tapping her screen as she scrolled through her spotify playlists.

“will you play kurt’s version of the man who sold the world, please?”

“of course. and you know you’re always welcome to change the song. i put it on shuffle though.”

the ride there was more relaxing than you thought it would be. your mind and body were too focused on the lyrics of the song and fiddling with natasha’s free hand. the thoughts were still there, just not as loud as before.

soon enough, you and natasha both laid flat against the back of her car staring up at the moon. it was still. no noise could be heard apart from the sound of crickets a few feet away.

you had room to think, room to breathe.

you thought about what some of your friends were doing right now. you’d seen pictures on instagram of them representing their college, a couple of party posts, and the occasional travel selfie.

those were all the things you wanted to do, but couldn’t. it was easy to let yourself feel jealous. sure, you were more than grateful to have natasha, but there’s nothing fun about being in a relationship with someone so self-destructive. there was no doubt natasha loved you, but it’s hard to love someone who doesn’t want to be loved; or at least acts like they don’t.

so the choice was once again up to you. what was more important? spending days wasting away over something you’ll never reach? or living a new life, one that could be exciting, outside of your eating disorder?

“what’s on your mind?” natasha questioned, turning her head to the side to get a better view of your face. your cheeks were more hallow than she remembered and it made her stomach turn.

you hummed, “i was so caught up in my own pain i didn’t realize how much i was hurting everyone else around me. this race to be perfect; look where it got me.”

natasha didn’t know what the right thing to say was. your statement wasn’t necessarily wrong, so she couldn’t argue against it.

“i used to tell myself that my eating disorder never took anything from me. everyone always had something, whether it be a sport, or theater, or dance. i didn’t have that. and then i realized that’s exactly what my eating disorder took away from me. i haven’t done anything in the past decade except go through the motion. every day up until now i’ve lived to obey my eating disorder.”

there was pause, another inhale and another exhale.

“you could say i have someone; my family or friends, but after awhile they get tired. they stop trying and asking. they stop caring. a few years down the road and now i have a strained relationship with everyone i used to be close with. i guess it made it easier to accept what would inevitably happen to me.”

you turned to face her, a shaky breath leaving your mouth. “i don’t want to die, nat.”

the redhead had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. she couldn’t imagine a life without you, she didn’t want to imagine it.

“had i known when i was a kid that this would be my life i would’ve never continued on like this.”

“you still have time, you can still get better.” she reasoned.

“i know, it’s just hard.”

“you’re in the fight for your life, it won’t ever be easy.” natasha affirmed. “but i know you can do this.”

“we’ll see.”

. . .

*gasp* an eating disorder fic that doesn’t revolve around the fear of getting fat? v tired of that stereotype pleek not everyone with an ed is like that.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #tw: eating disorder

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jangofctts · 4 years ago

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Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are.

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that?

Not much, as it so happens.

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding—

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail.

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought.

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in.

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics.

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…

So you ran.

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.

Maker—how did everything become so tangled?

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out.

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift.

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground.

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and—

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times.

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving.

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz.

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now.

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.

“No more bounties.”

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.

“No more hunts alone—“

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.”

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire.

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond.

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails.

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble.

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night.

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over.

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits.

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you.

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow.

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.”

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous.

“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh.

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?”

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers.

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling.

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal.

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you.

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now.

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"

He continues without missing a beat.

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck. “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity.

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly.

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.

Maker you hate this fucking planet—

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up.

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar—

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.

You were right.

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand.

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants.

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought.

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath.

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward.

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance.

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.

Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips.

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.”

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up.

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you.

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips.

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.”

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug.

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.

Another time for that game maybe.

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you.

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.”

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works.

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.”

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind.

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things.

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim.

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss.

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue.

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?”

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent.

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat.

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches.

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been.

Tag List: @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aeryns-library @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @cptnbvcks @thesoftdumbass @krissology @starlite41 @legally-a-bastard @basslinedweller @cloud-of-roses @elenamiria @goldafterglow @maybege @equalstrashflavoredtrash @wandxrlust @hdlynnslibrary @calamity-queen @sgtbookybarnes @pinkninja190 @lackofhonor @darthstyles @spacegayofficial @absurdthirst @blue-writes-a03 @max--phillips

#din is a certified bottom #ANYWAY welcome to pound town #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader x paz vizla #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #star wars #sw #fanfiction #sw fanfiction #my writing #are you in or out?

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

Text

matryoshka doll

— Momo is a modern day princess, so it makes sense as to why every single person she’s asked if they wanted to have sex reject her because they felt unworthy. But she’s a girl with carnal needs and if that means having anonymous sex is the only way to have them met, so be it.

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pairing: yaoyorozu momo x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, stuck in a wall, anal fisting (giving), fingering, marking, degradation, daddy kink!reader, princess!momo, praise, pwp, cursing, service top!reader, phat ass!momo

word count: 3,333

a/n: i stayed up until 4 am reading bkdk angst fanfic and im so, so tired...... momo has a phat ass that is full of stretch marks and cellulite and I drool at the thought of it. no I dont take any feedback on that.

kinktober day 9 main kink: anonymous sex | kinktober masterlist

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Momo has a secret.

A deep, dark, twisted secret.

It wasn’t so much that it was horrible, humiliating, or even a nuisance for all of humanity, but it definitely was a secret she was keen on keeping until she was six feet under.

Why was that?

Oh, well, you see, it involved one of the most taboo topics in the world: sex.

Yaoyorozu Momo lived a sheltered, elite life. At the tender age of four, she had managed to create an object by replicating a Matryoshka doll's exact molecular structure. She didn’t need to assume that most individuals couldn't compose the doll's molecular structure regardless of their intellect or education. Yet, with a determined gaze, her person and mind no much older than four years old, she succeeded in producing a single, lone, beautiful Matryoshka doll.

But, because of her natural-born intelligence and near-prodigious level thinking, the wealth that her parents held led her to a life where something such as a peck on the cheek was considered scandalous.

Kissing on the lips was considered a "marriage only" rule, and sex wasn’t even a word she knew.

Middle school for Yaoyorozu Momo consisted of her and her private tutors within her home. Her education was created just for her, and she had evening outings with her similar circles to ensure she had an appropriate social life. All in all, Momo didn’t know what sex was until she was sixteen, sitting in the common area of the dorm room with all her female friends who casually brought up the idea of what they could potentially be into, of who they would. Momo would quote: fuck, marry, or kill of three randomly generated boys within the class.

Of course, Momo’s eyes fluttered at the word fuck, having already known it as a curse word, and only as such as Bakugou always seemed to be yelling it. She had wrongfully spluttered when Mina had wiggled her eyebrows at Uraraka on why, oh why she had only chosen to ‘fuck Midoriya’ and not marry him. To Momo, who also at the time, was aware of her current blossoming feelings towards the smart but somewhat flutter tongued classmate of theirs, had been rather confused at the results Uraraka gave too.

“Kill… uh, Iida-kun,” Urakaka fidgeted, blushing harder under the intense stares of Mina and Hagakure (who had a mean glare despite not being able to see her). “Fuck Deku-kun, marry Todoroki-kun!”

Momo had assumed she would wish to marry her at the time crush, not choose the option to curse him out!

“Uraraka-san, you wish to cuss out Midoriya-san?” Momo had asked, saving the naturally rosy girl from their pink-skinned and invisible friend. “Why is that?”

“Hold on?” Jirou interrupted immediately, Momo’s undoubtedly closest friend rose from her slouched position next to her, her hand placed on her shoulder. “What was that?!”

“Well, isn’t the, ahem, please excuse my vulgar words, ‘fuck,’ option meaning to curse someone out? As Bakugou-san does to many people when he uses that word?” Momo had asked so innocently, so purely that the girls all almost felt horrible for popping the innocent bubble the modern-day princess was in -- keyword: almost.

For the first time in her life, Yaoyorozu Momo was not the most knowledgable in a subject; her cheeks stained red with embarrassing heat when Tsuyu took charge of explaining the alternate definition to what ‘fuck’ meant.

“You mean babies don’t come in storks?!” she had cried uncontrollably that night. She was utterly overwhelmed by this new level of information that would send her in a spiral of the need to acquire further details for the sake of education and, well, yes, the science of fucking.

From the moment she was sixteen until she was twenty, Momo’s knowledge of sex went from being the lowest in the class, to as it naturally should have been, the most knowledgable person on it. She knew of things, the different branches of sex, where to experience certain types of kinks, and theoretically, where the human body's best parts to touch when having sex. So, the moment she had turned of consenting legal age to have sex, Momo would be lying if she said she wasn’t ready to have sex.

But there was something in her way, something that not even years of studying could help her with, or could change the circumstances of which she found herself in. It seemed that though her friends enjoyed her sudden new-found genius towards the art and science behind sex, no one thought of her as a… sexual being.

“I c-can’t have sex with you!” Jirou had flushed red, her eyes scattering to every edge of the room, refusing to look at the wealthy heiress who had asked her best friend over during their last week of high school to do the deed. “You’re the modern-day royalty: Yaoyorozu Momo! I’m not… qualified enough!”

Momo frowned, “Oh?”

“Sex?” Todoroki had echoed, his eyes alarming wide despite his composed, neutral expression. Momo nodded her head, ignoring the small wisp of fire that emitted from his hair. “Oh, well, I don’t think I can do that for you, Yaoyorozu. It’s nothing against you, but I don’t think I’d like to have meaningless sex with you for the first time.”

Momo winced, “Oh, okay.”

“That sounded a lot meaner then intended, I apologize.”

…

And that’s how it seemed to go.

Aoyama hadn’t been interested in having sex at all with Momo. Mina said she was severely unworthy. Tsuyu simply rejected her because their relationship wasn’t one that had possibilities of sexual encounters. Iida said it would be irresponsible of him to take something of value of hers. Uraraka cried about how inferior scum like her had no right.

Ojiro apologized, having been in a relationship at the moment and wouldn’t. Kaminari said him sexually touching Momo would give the world every right to skin him where he lay. Kirishima had blushed brighter than his hair and stammered; he couldn’t without a proper relationship between the two of them. Kouda had run off crying. Sato had mumbled about how he enjoyed setting tea and pastries together but couldn’t imagine putting his tea in and on her pastry, or some weird allusion like that.

Shoji had bowed his head in apologies, saying she would regret sleeping with him. Sero had run away, crashing into a glass door explaining he wasn’t good enough. Tokoyami stated they weren’t a fated pair and rejected her kindly -- she thinks. Hagakure was in a relationship and politely declined her. Bakugou scoffed and told her to look elsewhere. Midoriya had stammered and suggested that he wasn’t the best option. Mineta just was never an option for her.

She had asked eighteen people who had all told her they would help her with anything, and the only thing that kept being thrown back into her face regarding something that she didn’t see to be anything that special was that she was royalty in their eyes. It was fine at first; honestly, it was! Momo had nodded her head, merely retreating to her home and creating an arrangement of sex toys most suited for her. And for a while, it had been enough.

But like the Matryoshka dolls, she was so fond of making, so good at making, she had several layers underneath that shouldn’t be ignored. And her sexual pleasures and gains had been a neglected part of her for too long.

From having the longest, thickest dildo she could make for herself, up her cunt, to the vibrator and fuck machines she should create (because she was not allowed anywhere near a sex shop), she had been blissful. Each orgasm ripping through her pleasantly, causing her sweaty chest to arch off her bed, her legs slamming closed as it burst from inside of her, causing her to bit harshly on her fist just in case. But just as even playing with your favorite game day after day, feeling alone, lonely, and unwanted, Momo found that even her toys weren’t enough.

She needed more.

No one would fuck her because of her status, because of her last name and the wealth that she brought, so she decided that if she was to do this, to gain the human touch she ever so desired and lusted over, she was going to have to erase her identity.

She had found a little place in the back alleys of Tokyo. They were hiring anyone who dared to visit and the only requirement to join was that you were willing to be fucked. Momo had shown up for the interview, face obscured by a hoodie she wore and was hired the moment she walked in with her spandex shorts hugging her tiny waist and fat ass. She had always seen places like this within her porn research but had never actually assumed fuck ho(l)es existed.

She certainly didn’t expect to be put in a wall where only her ass and cunt hanging out and the cold, wet tip of a sharpie marker to write against her clear virgin skin: FREE HOLE TO FUCK. VIRGIN LITTLE WHORE. She could feel that written on her skin, but she was unaware of the words that surrounded her placement on the wall: “put a tally and a review for every pump of cum you shove in me!”

There was no need for a picture by her whole because the people who frequented this place had no desires of that, and so, Momo found peace even as the starting alarm blared in her ear that customers were finally being let it.

To sum up the experience her first night at this joint, the first time experiencing a hot, living, throbbing cock in both her cunt and ass, Momo would have to blush. Her eyes shifting from yours onto the floor as she smiled. A chuckle on her face as she thought back to the end of that four hour fuck feast and remembered that there were nearly eighty-three tally marks on her bruised and blistered ass, of how her cum and all that cum continued to seep from her clenching holes for two days afterward… she loved it.

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You needed to blow off some steam.

Having just been entirely, horribly dumped by your ex and having precisely zero side pieces on the side to fuck, you went out of your way to secure a quick, easy fuck to get your mind off of things. There was no reason for you to simply not join Tinder and ask the first swipe to come over and fuck, but you didn’t want to see a face. You didn’t even want to know their face. As a matter of fact, you weren’t even so much as interested in your own orgasm at the moment than just making someone else cum. So when a pretty woman handed your glowering face a flyer as you were storming around the streets of Tokyo hoping for a sign from god, you almost cried at what the flyer informed you of.

A local... hole in the wall filled with glory holes and exposed asses, cunts, and cocks alike.

Was it destiny?

You sure believed so as you found yourself tailing to the obscure address, praying for the establishment to be open and, for the most part, empty because you had no plans on performing shit in front of watching eyes. Handing a thousand yen over to the admissions lady as your fee to the use of their prized cunts, cocks, and asses, you shoved the black ticket into your pocket and brisked in.

As you entered the back room, the tension in you back and pressure on your chest seemed to melt away immediately at the scent of sex, dried cum, and sweat. It was an altogether horrid stench, to be quite honest, but right now, it sent fire to your core, your lips licking at the walls and corners willed with awaiting to be attended to people. Twisted pleasure coursed through your veins as you walked around, your eyes taking note of the graffitied words around the individual holes, taking note of the black sharpie words on bruised and battered skin, and some cunts still dripping with someone else’s cum.

‘Loose cunt’ one person had.

‘Hasn’t been broken in yet,’ said another.

‘Loves it when you ‘accidentally’ fuck their ass,’ scrawled on another.

You couldn’t help but smile at the twisted humor, moving until finally, you saw one that exposed ass first to the world, eight tallies marked on her skin, and oh, the words painted on her smooth, perfect skin and the surrounding walls pulled you in.

‘Tightest fucking pussy.’ ‘100/10 recommended, been back multiple times for more.’ ‘Slip your fist up her ass, she LOVES it.’ ‘Favorite fucking whore here.’ ‘Would fuck again.’ ‘Slut likes it rough and mean.’ ‘Please fuck me!!!!’

You watched as the shiny slick of her cum slowly seep from her spread cheeks, not quite dripping, but definitely wet with her arousal. Something was calling you to her, your feet stumbling nearly tipsy with this outworld lust and drunkenness as you stopped behind her slapped pink ass. And without much need of thought to wonder where to stop, your hands found themselves grabbing her thick, supple ass and you moaned at the warmth emitting from her skin, of how her skin was so soft, so moveable, so bouncy. It was larger than your hands, your fingernails running against the cellulite, and stretch marks on her ass that made you want to kiss and run your tongue against even more. You couldn’t hear her, you couldn’t possibly know if she had liked the way your fingers dug into her ass, but her ass bounced, teetering with your grip as you could imagine a soft, juicy moan.

“I wonder if you can hear me?” you asked, most likely to no one, fingers spreading her ass, spanking the used whorish skin of hers so that small, tight, clenching pink asshole was on full display for you. “If you sit there for all these hours and listen to men fuck you with their ugly moaning and pathetic growling.”

Her ass rolled in your hands, and you smiled, taking that as a sign that yes, she heard everything, even you. Raising your hand to the bottle of lube, you saturated your fingers with the cold, transparent liquid, turning your fingers down over her still exposed, flush hole. You watched as the lube dripped down, splattering messily around her tight, rimmed muscle, watching her clench and unclench the muscle in alarming beauty.

“I must apologize, princess,” you sighed, looking at the names scrawled on the walls that this cunt and ass seemed to be most responsive to, and number one on that list was princess. “Your daddy isn’t feeling particularly rough today, so I hope you’ll behave with my softer movements.”

You're not quite sure where the reference to yourself as daddy had come from, but the way the ass muscles clenched between the lone hand that held her cheek made it worth it.

Your lube coated finger edged the pert opening of her ass, feeling the way the already used muscle expanded for your finger if a little stubbornly.

“Relax, princess, daddy sees you like being fisted, so I’m going to make sure you feel good.

You pressed your finger in until the knuckle disappeared beneath the muscle, your grin growing into a hazy, lustful gaze when you felt her ass bounce. This moan vibrated all the way to her anal cavity as you wasted no time in adding a second finger. Her ass was tight, the ribbed walls of the cavity bumping and gliding against your moving fingers, and you grinned when she loudly moaned. You didn’t need to be an expert to see that she had never been fucked softly or thoroughly before. She must have been used to the terrible, animalistic rage that the men here possessed when fucking these people behind the walls. If you didn’t know any better, you would assume that she lost her virginity here.

Your fingers curled, stroking and persuading her body to ripple and twitch with your commanding movements, and another finger added in, and another finger added in. Soon enough, you had four fingers in, all save your thumb. The stretch of her ass around your nearly formed ass was incredible; she took you so well, not a sound of agonizing pain was heard through the wall, although you swore you heard sounds of elation. The damn slut did enjoy it.

Your thumb pressed to her cunt, rubbing the slick folds of her pussy, softly fucking the outermost part of her inner walls, much against her approval if the way he ass bounced heavily in need had anything to say about it.

“Ah, does the princess, not like this?” you asked, your hand that was currently not four fingers into her ass stretching out her cheeks even further as finally you retracted your hand out, made a fist, and sunk back in. Now there was a scream. But the way that it shot curling ravenous fires into your core, you knew it wasn’t one of horror or pain. No. It was one of absolute, slutty pleasure. You moaned at the sound, your arm beginning to thrust into her ass slowly, intentionally, and with burning passion and desire to hear her wail again. She sounded so pretty, sounded so slutty.

Your now free hand moved to her cunt, your mind trying to stimulate her more, trying to ignore the way her ass was hot and deliciously tight around your forearm as your pinched and rolled at her clit. Your thumb stayed on her clit, but your fingers stretched to enter her clenching cunt that seemed to be in synch with her ass. YOu moaned in content at the feeling of her inner walls suctioning against your intruding finger, and you laughed upon feeling your moving arm within her ass against her cunt. And that beautiful, pitchy whine resonated deeply again, and your mind melted.

Your fingers and fist doubled in speed, the growing sharp moans through the walls fueling you to move faster, to be rougher, to make her see stars. No wonder why no one fucked her with love here, you thought as leaned down, teeth tearing against her ass cheek that read: mark me, please. Who could stay composed when this fucking slut was this goddamn loud.

“Such a good fucking princess, so slutty, so nice for your daddy,” you grunted, against her skin, your hips snapping at air as the heat and wetness in your pants made you uncomfortable -- the need for more biting through your clothes. “You like my fist up your ass? You like everyone’s fist up your ass, don’t do? Doesn’t fucking surprise me with those stupid loud moans you make.”

Your words were hissed, your fingernails scraping against her pulsating, throbbing inner walls, and then it happened.

Her ass and her cunt clenched against your fingers and fist. And your jaw dropped as a rippling effect ran across your arm that was buried in her ass.

Was that a?

Holy fucking shit?!

“Princess, did your ass just orgasm?!”

A confirming, pathetic moan sent your mind to the moon.

Suddenly feeling as if this was too much for you, and with no way to relive yourself in this type of fuck room, you removed your hand quickly from her ass, your dominant hand grabbing the hanging sharpie on the wall and added two more tally marks on the number of times she’s cum.

You race out of there, the fire in between your legs too much to handle. Well, at least not before adding one more, important piece of information on her ass and on the wall: ‘if you fuck my ass like daddy did, maybe my ass will orgasm for you too.”

#momo x reader #momo smut #yaoyorozu x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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bnhascribbles · 6 years ago

Text

Walls

Kirishima x Reader

Hurt/Comfort, Dialogue Prompt (47, 66)

Words: 1.1K

***Warnings: Possible abuse triggers (mentions of past abuse)!

On nights that you stayed, Kirishima watched you for longer than he’d ever admit. He knew it was probably weird; If you ever caught him, he was pretty sure he’d die of embarrassment. Still, he couldn’t help it. It was strange seeing you lying there–as guarded as you usually were–caught halfway between “asleep” and “awake.” Vulnerable; The word echoes in his ears, even though he knows you absolutely hate it, hate having any semblance of control yanked from your possession. But when you’re facing away from him like this–baring your back, as still as a statue–it seems too fitting to brush off. How long had it taken? How long had it been before you’d stopped sneaking away in the dark? Before you’d stopped flinching with every creak of the bed, stopped jumping whenever he shifted beneath the sheets?

When had you begun to trust him enough to let him past that wall of yours? It wasn’t made of concrete or metal. No, the barrier you’d erected was more like a thick sheet of tempered glass–transparent. Most other people went about their lives without even noticing it was there. “They’re just a private person,” they’d say. “Professional.” Kirishima could see it though; He’d smashed into it face-first too many times to count. Introducing himself? Thud. Asking you out to drinks? Thud. Trying to learn anything more about you? Thud. Over the course of a year, he’d left his imprint in the layer separating you from the rest of the world. Now, through some miracle, he’d made it to the other side. You’d let him cross over. Little had he known there was another wall waiting behind the first.

Kirishima loved you. He’d been sure of that much from the first smile you’d granted him, as wary and testing as it’d been. He’d bided his time, coming in as close as you’d allow him to, day by day. The aching in his chest grew with every millimeter you relinquished. Eventually, he’d found he couldn’t stand it anymore. He’d blurted out three words, the three words that he’d only ever thought before. You never repeated them back. And he was fine with that. But he still had so many questions.

Questions about the nightmares that always seemed to shake you from your sleep.

Questions about the bouts of anxiety that left you catatonic.

Questions about the sunken pink spots scattered across your back.

Even though it was dark, even though most of them were covered by the edge of your tank top, he knew they were there. The first time he’d been with you–really been with you–his own nervousness had kept him from focusing on much of anything. The second time, he’d glanced at the marks in passing, noting the way the clusters almost resembled freckles–but they were too perfect, too circular, too unnatural. The third time, his curiosity almost got the better of him; Kirishima had almost asked about them. Almost. The truth was, he’d known better than to do that–he’d known that you would more than likely distance yourself from him if he gave any indication that he was trying to force his way in too quickly. More than that, the truth was, he’d learned more than a few things from working with Bakugo.

Things like the way an old burn heals over.

“I can feel you staring at me, Eijiro.” You mumble through a drowsy haze, jolting him from his moment of reflection.

Kirishima doesn’t respond, lying there and wondering. After a moment passes, he shimmies in closer, leaving only an inch of empty air between the pair of you.

“Just thinking.” He mumbles, never once lifting his eyes from the curve of your shoulder, the spot where a particularly angry bunch of dots gathers along your skin.

“About what?” You yawn, none the wiser.

He reaches out, tracing a gentle line down the slope of your neck. “You really wanna know?”

“Mmhm.” It’s a sleepy sound–breathy and drawn out. At ease.

He hesitates, frozen for fear of ruining everything. If nothing changed, he reasoned, then nothing could go sour. Before he can convince himself to back down though, he grazes his fingertips over one of the scars, breathing.

“Who did this to you?”

He can feel your body go rigid the second he finishes the question. You inhale sharply, and for a moment, he truly believes the silence will be his only answer.

“Somebody you don’t need to worry about.” You finally respond, hushed, but sounding much more awake. “Somebody that died a long time ago.”

Quiet returns, and the regret seeps in. He’d pushed you away again. Dammit. Kirishima goes to remove his hand, to give you the space you need.

“I’m sor–”

“Don’t.” You hiss, catching his wrist as you flip over to face him. “Don’t you dare say it. You have nothing to be sorry for.” The look you shoot him is resolute–not shaken or upset, like he’d thought it would be. “You weren’t the one that decided to use my back as your own personal ashtray.”

You watch as a quiet, seething sort of rage passes over Kirishima. It manifests itself as tension, spanning every inch of his body. Furrowed eyebrows, stiff muscles, downturned lips–all the nonverbal language that you knew too well. On him though, all of it looked wrong.

“Who–” He stops himself. Old names were useless–fixating on the past was useless. The future was all that mattered now.

Kirishima breathes heavily, gritting his teeth. “I would never.”

“I know.” You hush him, intertwining your fingers with his.

“I’ll keep you safe.” He clarifies. The sheer intensity of his gaze is enough to send a wave of warmth shooting down your spine.

It wasn’t the first time he’d made that sweet, impossible promise–the same pretty lie that others had used so many times before to try and soothe your fears, end your nightmares, purchase your trust. The difference was, with Kirishima, you really believed that he believed those words.

Maybe in time, you’d begin to believe them too.

You burrow yourself into his chest. While you’re breathing in his scent, relishing in his embrace, one phrase reverberates through your thoughts–persistent, like a gnat that refuses to be ignored. One phrase, composed of three short words. Words that you’d sworn off saying so many years ago. Words that you’d so been sure you could never profess in good faith. Now, they just seemed to fit.

Another day, you muse, shutting your eyes.

And just like that, Kirishima wiggles his way past another one of your walls.

#bnha x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha kirishima #kirishima #Kirishima Eijirou #eijiro kirishima #bnha reader insert #mha x reader #bnha #mha #bnha imagines #mha imagines #kirishima imagines

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demigodgooglesearches · 7 years ago

Conversation

demigods as art kids

hermes: the art teacher isnt looking im taking these micron pens

poseidon: draw. draw ocean. OCeN. FISH!!

athena: the sketch isnt perfect i nEED TI FIX THE SKETCH. I DONT CARE IF ITS GOING TO GET ERASED LATER!!! The skeTCH

demeter: look at this fairy i drew- what do you mean i only draw fairies? i draw bees too bertha not everything has to be human

hephaestus: haha what the fuck are colors

ares: time to fucking wing it

aphrodite: clothes? check. hair? check. facial expressions-- oh no dear god my weakness

apollo: does a sun count as background or do i actually have to add more because the circle in the corner of my sheet is doing just fine

dionysus: its 4am and ive been drawing on the wrong layer for 2 hours

zeus: im drawing BORDS and WINGS fuck OFF

hades: just because i draw only in pen doesn't mean i cant fix my mistakes-- okay im lying please pass the white out and the tissues

#percy jackson #heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo

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turtle-steverogers · 6 years ago

Text

Fugitives- Chap 1

This chapter’s super short, but it’ll start to pick up next chap. (all chaps under #fugitives)

Ship: Eventual Ralbert

Warnings: None yet

Albert pulled his jacket tighter around himself as he walked along the sidewalk in the bitter, New York Winter air. He could see his breath puffing in front of him, swirling with the snow that was falling steadily. Albert really hated Winter. He always had- often complaining that he’d much rather take off layers than put them on. Besides, no matter how many jackets you pile yourself in, there’s always a part of you that’s still freezing. In Summer, you can just hop in a pool and you’re golden for a few hours.

He rounded a corner, speeding up his pace slightly as he made his way back to his apartment building. The wind started to pick up faster, blowing harsh flurries of snow into his eyes. Albert bowed his head against the air as it nipped at him, mentally counting down the street numbers that lead to his.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a guy barreled into Albert, effectively knocking him to the ground, “Shit, sorry!” the guy exclaimed. He bent down and hoisted Albert up, holding his shoulders briefly to steady him, then continued to half-walk, half-jog down the street. Albert blinked a few times, trying to process what had just happened. Distantly, he became aware that his head was suddenly much colder now than it had been a moment ago, only to realize that his hat hat fallen off when he fell. He reached down to pick it up and discovered a wallet lying next to it. He flipped it open, looking for an ID. A driver’s license was tucked into one of the plastic sleeves and Albert recognized the person in the photo as the guy who had just crashed into him. Squinting, he read the name on the license, then turned on his heel and began retracing his steps in hopes of finding the guy.

It didn’t take long to spot the guy’s head of blonde hair weaving in and out of passerbyers. Albert picked up his pace to match his jog and eventually was in an arm’s length of the guy. He stretched out his hand and placed it on the guy’s shoulder, causing him to jump and raise his arms above his head in defense.

“Whoa, chill,” Albert said, raising his hands in surrender, “You just dropped your wallet, I was giving it back.”

The guy straightened up, eyes wide and frantic, “Oh, uh, thanks.”

Albert handed him the wallet, “Here ya go, Antonio.”

Antonio let out a noise of distress and pulled Albert out of the mob of people walking along the sidewalk, “How do you know my name? Did you recognize me from somewhere? Did someone tell you?”

Albert’s eyes flew to his hairline, “Uhhh, none of the above? I just read it on your license.”

Antonio visibly relaxed, “Oh, good, okay. But it’s not Antonio. If anyone asks, it’s Race.”

“Race?” Albert asked, “What kinda name is that?”

Race bit his lip, eyes darting to the side rapidly. It looked like he was watching out for someone, “It’s short for Racetrack.”

Albert furrowed his brow, “That just made it weirder.”

Race sighed, clearly frustrated, “It was a childhood nickname, okay? Now pretend you never knew my real name. I gotta go.” He began to turn away, but Albert grabbed his arm.

“Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? Who’s after you?” Albert demanded.

Race’s eyes darkened, “None of your business,” He jerked his arm out of Albert’s grasp, “Besides, why would you wanna associate yourself with someone who is clearly on the run?”

Albert opened and closed his mouth a few times, “I, uh, don’t know, but you look like you need help.”

“I could’ve killed someone.”

“But did you?”

“I don’t know, did I?”

“What the hell.”

“See? I could be dangerous.”

“That’s edgy.”

“Jesus fuck, I don’t know why I’m still talking to you,” Race scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration, “I really gotta go, okay?”

“Okay, fine. But-” Albert was cut off by Race cursing and grabbing his arm. He began to run, still holding onto Albert as they dodged pedestrians.

“What the fuck?”

“They caught up, oh god.”

Albert glanced over his shoulder. Through the sea of people still bustling about, he could see several police officers prowling. It looked like they hadn’t spotted Race yet, but they were alarmingly close. Fear bubbled in Albert’s stomach. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

“So you’re running from the police?” Albert hissed to Race.

Race grunted, “He finally connects the dots.”

Albert ignored the jab, “Why?”

“I’ve already told you, it’s none of your business.”

“Why did you drag me with you?” Albert asked, pulling his arm out of Race’s hold and falling into step next to him.

“You seem like the type to run your mouth,” Race said, clearly distracted, “Couldn’t risk it.” He stopped abruptly and looked around, then turned to Albert, hopeless.

“Where would be a good place to hide?” He asked.

“Uh, I know a place? Jacobi’s? It’s like a hole in the wall restaurant. Nobody ever goes.”

“Perfect, is it close to here?” Race said.

Albert glanced at the nearest street sign, “A couple of blocks, yeah.”

“Take me.”

“Okay, under one condition.” Albert declared.

Race rolled his eyes, “I don’t have any money, man, please.”

Albert shook his head, “Not money. An explanation.”

Race pursed his lips, eyes flicking over Albert’s shoulder, “Fine. Lead the way.”

TAG LIST:

@bencookisagod

@we-dont-sell-papes

@suddenly-im-respecsable

@aw-jus-let-em-spook

@well-the-kids-do-too

@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn

@thatpoorguysheadisspinning

@newsies-of-nyc

@andthewoildwillknow

#newsies #newsies fic #albert dasilva #racetrack higgins #ralbert #fugitives

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mochabeesnuts · 7 years ago

Note

For the ting (go skkrrrrrat) thing. All of them

*yells* Da ting go skkkkrrrraaa, papakakaka Skivipipopop and a poopooturrrboom Skrra, tutukukututoom, poompoom

1. selfie

HNNNG OK UH. UGH. HRM. FINE. A;JKFG

hnnng asdfj;klad aNYWAYS

2. what would you name your future kids?

im not sure honestly, i feel like its one of those things where i have to meet them first. and honestly i dont think about it too much because i plan on adopting so chances are they’ll be old enough to already have a name. idk, im not picky about age. i feel like its going to be one of those things were i’ll just. know which kid needs me and that will be that.

3. do you miss anyone?

mm i miss my dogs at home. but i get to visit soon so!

4. what are you looking forward to?

im looking forward to january and seeing my friend. im also looking forward to next semester and getting a fresh start. also the possibility of getting a cat soon

5. is there anyone who can always make you smile?

heheh yeah there is

6. is it hard for you to get over someone?

y.u.p. jesus fuck

7. what was your life like last year?

um. it was hard. and painful. but it was a learning experience and i think im stronger for it

8. have you ever cried because you were so annoyed?

yes

9. who did you last see in person?

uhh i saw my roomie like a half hour ago when i was walking home

10. are you good at hiding your feelings?

i used to be a fucking master at it. cant tell if i miss that skill or not

11. are you listening to music right now?

yup! trying to find some new songs to listen to regularly

12. what is something you want right now?

i dont know actually

13. how do you feel right now?

i feel... mm i feel kinda peaceful. i feel like a lot of weight has been taken off of my shoulders but i still have so much on my plate. but i have a clearer mind to work on those things now so it’s a start

14. when was the last time someone of the opposite sex hugged you?

umm i got a hug from my dad on friday. if dad doesnt count then um.. hm... *squints* a long time

15. personality description

passionate. when i feel something i feel it strongly. whether its good or bad its fucking there and i almost always act on it. i dont hesitate but i try to be as considerate as possible. i try to be a people pleaser. and im also very determined. heheh, look at that i managed not to make that negative, kinda happy with that tbh.

16. have you ever wanted to tell someone something but you didn't?

yes, just once i think. i told someone it was ok that they were leaving me and that it was ok they were breaking my heart instead of telling them how i actually felt. i wanted to say it, but i knew that making them feel worse for it wouldnt do either of us any good. so i kept my feelings to myself.

17. opinion on insecurities.

we all have them. a lot of them. and they overwhelm even the best of us at times. whether we choose to or not we wear them on our sleeves and theyre one of the hardest things to fight against because our greatest and strongest enemy is ourselves. being your own greatest friend is fucking hard, and insecurities play a large role in that.

18. do you miss how thing were a year ago?

no. i dont. i was sad and lonely. i didnt feel like i belonged anywhere. but thats not true anymore, and id never want to go back to that.

19. have you ever been to New York?

nope!

20. what is your favourite song at the moment?

i have a few songs that i love a lot rn but mmm i can put down the one that i relate to a lot today? Machine by misterwives is a big mood for me rn and its nice the other hella big mood and this one has been putting the biggest smile on my face is salt by bad suns

21. age and birthday?

18 about to turn 19! my bday is november 30th :D

22. description of crush.

theyre human. they work hard and theyre passionate about what they love. a complete and utter dork that gets excited and can go on an on about what they find interesting and i can honestly listen to it all day. theyre sweet and silly and creative and smart as hell. theyve been there for me through so fucking much and we’ve both hit our low points and shown darker sides of ourselves but despite that we’re both still here yknow? and that, idk that means something to me. because anyone can stick around through the bright and beautiful stuff, the easy parts. but it takes someone special to be there and still just, want to be in your life even when shit hits rock bottom.

23. fear(s)

im honestly not sure. i never really have been.. i mean.. hm. idk. spiders maybe. but lately theyve bugged me less. usually instead of freaking out if i see spiders or bugs now i just help them get outside so i dont think that counts anymore.. idk. im sure im afraid of something, everyone is. i just.. dont really know what it is. one of my friends said i may be afraid of the unknown which is possible. *Shrugs*

24. height

5 ft 9 in!

25. role model

dont really have one

26. idol(s)

nani the fuck this is the same question

27. things i hate

i HATE people that treat customer services like shit. i hate lying and i hate high school drama(tm). i also hate eggplants.

28. i'll love you if...

you be yourself

29. favourite film(s)

the chronicles of naria, httyd 1 and 2, little mermaid, anastasia, inkheart

30. favourite tv show(s)

how i met your mother, stranger things, kekkai sensen, your lie in april, brooklyn 99, firefly, voltron

31. 3 random facts

1. ive jumped off a cliff

2. jellyfish can produce asexually as well as sexually. they can clone themselves!

3. mitochondria is still the powerhouse of the cell

32. are your friends mainly girls or guys?

girls

33. something you want to learn

i want to learn more about marine biology, i miss it

34. most embarrassing moment

mm wasnt the most embarrassing and it was actually kinda funny but its recent-ish so.

last year in instrumental rep class we were at the concert hall and this pianist was playing for us on stage, pro and fancy from out of country and everything. and i hadnt been getting much sleep so when she started playing all this slow and pretty music i passed tf out. problem was. i was sitting in front of my entire class/all my friends. and apparently just as she finished a song i started laughing in my sleep just like a mumbly “heheheh” but it was deadass quiet so EVERYONE heard it. and when someone nudged me awake like, everyone was looking at me but i didnt know why. and i went the entire fucking class not knowing it had happened and it wasnt until after the class ended and the performer got off stage that everyone burst out laughing and told me what happened. they fucking called me chuckles for a week lmao

35. favourite subject

music, photography, english, marine biology

36. 3 dreams you want to fulfill?

1. i want to be successful enough that i can repay my parents for everything theyve done for me

2. i want to be the composer for a big name film

3. its.. dumb but i just really want to be in a happy relationship. a real one. its probably not the best thing to want as a dream but ill be real, ive been in love with the idea of love ever since i was a kid and that never really went away, just my chances in believing it’s something that will happen in my life.

37. favourite actor/actress

hmm i probably have one but its not coming to mind

38. favourite comedian(s)

kevin hart

39. favourite sport(s)

i love watching ice skating, love participating in swimming. used to do it competitively

40. favourite memory

ahh its hard to pick one plus this feels a bit personal!

41. relationship status

single as a pringle.. which doesnt make sense because pringles come in packs but it rhymes so fight me ok

42. favourite book(s)

inkheart, chronicles of narnia, my sister’s keeper

43. favourite song ever

what’s up by 4 non blondes, also 7 layers by dotan

44. age you get mistaken for

early 20s

45. how you found out about your idol

bruh

46. what my last text message says

hnnng its “Good night, I love you mom!” sdfj;lkgsd

47. turn ons

ive answered this a few times before

48. turn offs

ive answered this a few times before

49. where i want to be right now

mmm, im happy where i am for now i think.

50. favourite picture of your idol

ffs

51. starsign

Sagittarius

52. something i'm talented at

music, photography

53. 5 things that make me happy

1. my friends

2. my plushie/soft things

3. music

4. rain

5. the fact that each new day is a chance for something new. idk why but that fact has just made me feel better a lot

54. something thats worrying me at the moment

my friends. theyre all going through a lot and i want to help but i can only do so much

55. tumblr friends

you know who you are bbs

56. favourite food(s)

this is always strangely hard for me to answer. theres an udon place back at home though that i can safely say is my fav.

57. favourite animal(s)

jellyfish, dolphins, dogs, cats, sea turtles, jorunna parva (sea bunnies), dragons

58. description of my best friend

i have a couple. both are kind and passionate as fuck. theyve been there for me through thick and thin and i wouldnt trade them for the world. theyre also going through so much fucking shit rn and i want to be there for them as much as i can

59. why i joined tumblr

because all my homestuck trash friends had one and convinced me to make one. i didnt know wtf to do on this hellsite for a solid 4 months

60. ask me anything you want

you gotta ask me anything you want my dude lmao, just pop into my inbox with whatever question you want to ask and i’ll answer it honestly

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sugasugasuga · 8 years ago

Text

mvs im kind of in love with (a wip)

#wyd by ikon - i love this one because i feel like with boy band mvs they often fall into the weird “6 boys (sometimes literally) chasing the same girl which proves most writers and directors and stuff are male because any woman would know that said girl would be scared for her life)” trope and this mv is the complete opposite, and portrays romance, or rather the cutesy precursor to romance (yes things aren't/shouldnt be inherently romantic but the vibe and interactions and overall feeling of the this song/mv hints at romance so well, i’m more than okay with it. it’s romantic, but this kind of romantic i support) so well. it’s rarely dramatic (or at least not the mv type of dramatic) and there’s not usually a GROUNDBREAKING moment where you confess your undying love for each other and live happily ever after. those kinds of stories can sometimes feel like more of a caricature of real life, whereas this feels like a snapshot of real life. it does an excellent job of showing those small little moments in the honey moon phase that lead up to romance. the characters are tiptoeing around each other and there’s nothing explicitly romantic but the combination of the music and visuals are enough; nothing needs to be explicitly romantic. one of my favourite things about mvs like this is that i don’t feel like i need to know the words theyre singing in order to understand. it just sort of speaks for itself in its own way and it portrays the emotions its trying to show so well since it doesnt solely rely on the lyrics. airplane (which i also really like, but not enough for it to make it on to the list “officially) does a similar thing, and i like that it has more of an arch than this one, but i do feel like looking up the lyrics for that made a lot more sense. at first i felt that the third wheeling/””friendzone”” (for the lack of a better word) thing felt a bit out of place and like they were trying to tell 2 different stories at once but now i feel like it’s just trying to portray a more fleshed out relationship

i am you, you are me by zico - this is my favourite music video of all time (i love the entirety of inu/run/the prologue etc more but that counts as more of a ‘mv series’ in my mind and you cant compare the two since they’re trying to achieve such different things). i feel overwhelmed by how much i love this mv every time i watch it. i genuinely can’t handle it and i have so many thoughts, starting to talk about it is kind of intimidating and i’ve been putting it off for ages. several months later: OK I REWATCHED IT LETS DO THIS. every time i watch this mv i am overwhelmed by how much i love it. every time im like “it cant be as good as i remember” but then it is. watching it just makes me feel so soft and warm and quiet. there’s nothing in the whole mv that feels out of place. i love the clothes, i love the hair, i love how natural everything feels. the set is phenomenal, it creates this strange, distant, otherworldly, completely independent little universe. the products that are perfectly lined up and the lights and the way colour and the flickering of the light/the tv is being used makes it feel a bit like a dream. the sparkle at the beginning also gives it a fairy tale kind of vibe. it just feels surreal, blending reality and fantasy in a really god way. the close ups of the people/the sets are being used in the perfect moments, it just creates this beautiful balance that just works so well together. there’s a lot going on, but it never feels like its too much. i love love l o v e the two characters interactions. the mv feels like a whole story that says soooo much without having to say anything at all. the exchanged looks and the gradual development and the interactions are just so perfect. its one of those things where things dont need to be explicitly romantic to be romantic, the combination of the visuals and the song just conveys this very specific feeling extremely well. i love the way they toe around each other and test each other a little bit, how it feels very careful and new at first but then gets more familiar. i love how they look at each other. i love the parts where they sit back to back and the camera spins around them. i love the part where you have a red close up of zico and she's layered above in blue. that could have looked strange but it works extremely well. everything in this mv feels like it happens or is there for a reason. it feels very intentional, but in a casual way, if that makes sense. i love the pace. i think this is partly caused by the fact that it looks like everything is just slightly slowed down, so it feels more relaxed and gives off this “we have all the time in the world” vibe, and also similar to the otherworldly feeling i mentioned earlier. i love how the sign went from opened/closed to opened/opened.i just dont even know how to say it but from 0:16-0:22, the way the perspectives are shown is just wonderful. i love the way its blurry for a split second at 0:12. i just love all the details. i love how this mv makes me feel. i want to live in this.

sentimental by winner - ngl i just love the way this is shot and the colours and the styling and chilled and lazy and careless atmosphere that the visuals and the song create, but also how it somehow shows this underlying frustration? looking up the lyrics helped with this one - i kinda guessed the whole “i miss u” thing because of the title and it has this bittersweetness to it? i just think that this is a great example of a series of seemingly borderline nonsensical/weird/”random” things (eg. the lobster, the bathtub, the guy dancing around with the cat or the guy riding the bike whilst lying on the floor) but it made sense, somehow? it felt like all those little details just showed the frustration and boredom and that they’re not quite sure what to do with themselves and how missing someone can drive you a little bit crazy. not to mention that the cat is a metaphor for “im going to die alone with 18 cats” and the bike thing reminds me a little bit of carousel by melanie martinez, in other words just feeling like you/a relationship is going nowhere. i also love the repeated use/portrayal of musical instruments (even/especially the ones where they go a bit crazy) because it feels like that shows working through your feelings through creativity and expressing yourself. and i also love the couple making out in random places because that’s essentially what it feels like when you like someone who likes someone else, them being with that person is always just sort of... there... i like the almost intruder-like portrayal of it here. i also love the separate rooms because they’re such a cool way to show the characters’ isolation and give them a bit of individuality, whilst still tying it all together with the band/kitchen sequences.

you’re the best by mamamoo - i like this one because it’s a great example of “we all like the same person but not in a way that suggests we want to kill them and wear their skin”. also, i love the song and the styling (mamamoo are the only people in this world that can pull off bootcut jeans) and the colours and the choreo and the set and the retro/vintagey vibe it all gives off and how the music video perfectly compliments the song and every things so bright and wonderful and i love the dorky moments and i love the scenes under the white sheet (one of the weirdest things ive said in a while) but theyre just so radiant and soft and i love the little animations, they’re so subtle it took me aaaages to see them and theyre so small and cute and fit really well (its not like lalaland floating galaxy dance that feels out of place) and its overall just such a wonderful experience to watch the mv and also i am in love with every single one of these girls

why so lonely by wonder girls - this one borders on including random things just for the sake of including random things, but it does it so well, i honestly dont care. you do need subs, i think? but its overall just so good that it doesnt matter too much. it just has this “i dont give a shit” in such a classy, controlled, badass lana del rey way. i watched this for the first time when it first came out, i think, about 9 months ago? and i still haven't stopped thinking/forgotten about it, simply because it was so unlike anything ive ever seen before and i honestly wasn’t even sure whether i like it or not. but i do. i love the blocky colors and the styling and the set and the actual format/size of the video and how you have the black borders on the side and how they all fit together perfectly to create this vintage/retro/strange different reality or its own world. the fact that they all perform/sing with this deadpan face and intense eye contact is also that perfect kind of strange that just goes really well with the entire mv. i love the ending and i love that it has this little arch to it, even if its kind of a crazy one, but i love that it’s not wannabe badass (like me lol) or cutesy, it’s just so fucking cool and well made in its own way.

fine by taeyeon this is the one. the mv that will be the death of me. i love how simple this was and that the way it was shot and the variety and the colours and how pretty it was in a soft, subtle way made it really really interesting or ’’’moving’’’’ i guess. (i always say the same thing, i know, but these are just the things i love about mvs??) the underlying theme/repeated use of photographs and that type of imagery to indicate the passing of time and memories was just stunning and perfect and added this feeling of nostalgia and missing someone/something and perfectly complimented the song. i love that this is another one that just feels really sincere and real and not dramatic at all, all the interactions between the couple are just really really cute and i love that one moment where she's just in the kitchen drinking a glass of water because (at least i think that) it’s this strange relatable feeling of being a bit lost and just thinking and wandering around the house and drinking a glass of water and thinking about stuff. it’s just overall wonderful.

never ever by got7 - this is just beautiful. that’s the only way to describe it. all the scenes are gorgeous and well balanced, if that makes sense? i love the colours and the contrast between the white and the bluish black with just enough vibrant colours to make it interesting and the smoke thing and the outfits its all just well rounded, somehow. id be OBSESSED with this band if they were on spotify

fxxk it by bigbang - this ones slightly different bc i saw the mv a while back and i thought it was alright but then i went to hoho’s k pop shop in london and picked up 2 like, credit card sized poster type bigbang things so i was like “guess i should give them another try” and i listened to more of their stuff and i really really really like this song (and a lot of their other songs, actually?? i had no idea that they’ve recently been making so much chilled music?? i guess i just kept thinking of fantastic baby when i heard bigbang) and i think its just another instance of the mv matching the song really well. and i love the styling and colors. i say that every time bUT JUST LOOK AT IT ITS SO COOL

crooked by g-dragon - i just kind of assumed ive already talked about this because its one of my favourites and it has been for like a year or something?side note before i rewatch it and give my detailed opinions: coup d’etat reminds me of a very specific couple of weeks of my life. it basically just feels like walking to the my best friend’s place in may or june in the evenings last year and its still light and really nice and warm and im wearing ripped jeans and doc martens and my leather jacket and me and my best friend hang out and watch a movie or walk around while we’re ”””””studying”””” and its just a. lot. but ANYWAY i just love this so much. i love the song and the music video s o m u c h. not just because i have this weird sentimental connection to it. i just feel like it conveys this feeling of helpless, reckless, careless, self destructive badassness so strongly that there is no doubt about it, regardless of the lyrics. i looked them up once and i forgot and im sure theyre good but i just really feel like the sound and the visuals combine so well that theyre a bonus rather than something you need to understand. it just makes me feel this strange sense of pity and it has that kind of underlying sense of sadness and despair and loneliness and not being sure what to do with yourself and not quite belonging but covering it all with this appearance of not caring even though you care so much at the same time and i just love it so much. all i know is that walking places whilst listening to g-dragon is a very unique, specific feeling that i love

she's a baby by zico - since i am you, you are me is basically my favourite mv ever i put off watching this for like 2 weeks. i was kinda nervous, ngl?? idek know why tbh? i guess i didnt want to be disappointed? but maaan. i was not disappointed. of course i dont like it as much as i am you, but i love love love that it has the same gentle pastel vibe and it just made me feel all soft inside and it made me smile and i just love it. im not gonna go on about how much i love the colors and the way its shot and stuff bc i say the same thing every time but jusT LOOK AT IT. its GORGEOUS.

rumor by kard - this looks cool as fuck on your phone, i really really like the song and just generally love that kard always does completely new, different stuff and does it super well. (i just love their music in general bc their lyrics mean soooo much to me whenever i feel A Lot)

neverland by holland - boy where to even start with this one. to begin with, i want to take the first 30 seconds and hang them up on my wall. tattoo them on my body. they’re just so quiet and pretty and perfect. i love the yellow neverland font. and just the contrast between the dark scenes where he’s alone and the brightness of the beach and the sky when they’re together???? SO damn good. the combination of the two makes the mv feel like it’s like a memory - when you think of someone you used to like, you think about all of it. it’s not just the good and it’s not just the bad, in a way, you’re brain smashes it all together. it just does such an excellent job of making you feel something. and the interactions between the two boys. they’re so cute and soft together but the mv also manages to give their relationship a bit of depth and it’s just great to watch. and their kiss might be my favourite “tv” kiss ever? i usually just find kisses in movies and tv shows (especially dramas) very “whatever” but this one was just so cute. they’re so cute. it’s just great. and i love the sound of the actual music so much? i’m usually not into soft music but this is actually so damn good????? im honestly just dying for holland to make more music

#mine #long post

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partlycharlie-archive · 6 years ago

Text

gender? who is she? (they???)

chapter two: hey, uh . dad? link to prologue link to chapter one

summary: papa,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, oooOoOoo,,,,,,,,didn't MEAN to make you CRY (thaaaaank fuck i didn't!!!!!!!) word count: 1,796 warnings: coming out a/n: yeet yeet comin out bois

read on ao3

[SUNDAY; 10.21.18]

harry? (SumayaPotter), luna! (LunaLovegood)

[14:06] harry?: luna luna luna

[14:15] luna!: hello harry! what is it you wish to talk about?

[14:16] harry?: i think im gonna come out 2 dad

[14:19] luna!: oh wonderful! i wish you the best of luck, harry. do you know if you will come out to your mother, as well?

[14:20] harry?: oh shit [14:20] harry?: nah i dont think so [14:20] harry?: im a little more scared abt her than i am abt dad [14:20] harry?: idk y lol

[14:21] luna!: okay! that’s perfectly fine, harry. you only have to go to the limits that you are comfortable with! <3

[14:21] harry?: tyyy <3

---

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah? What’s up, Su?” James settles into the chair across from his daughter, who is sitting (with the worst posture ever - he really needs to start reminding her to keep her back straight, even if that’s the only part of her that’ll ever be straight) slumped over the table. As he speaks, she props her head into the palm of one hand to look him in the eye.

“Do you know what the word nonbinary means?”

He raises an eyebrow and frowns, considering. “A number that’s not a power of two?” he tries, offering a cautious smile.

She snorts with a quirk of her lips. “Close, but not quite.” She starts to pull out the pins holding her hijab together, placing them in a small bag in front of her. The layers of the scarf unravel around her face.

“It, uhm, well. It kind of means someone that doesn’t feel like a girl or a boy? I guess you could say that nonbinary people are, like, in between being a girl or a boy, even though I’m pretty sure some people don’t feel like that? Like agender people, y’know? I mean, I’m pretty sure they fall under the term of ‘nonbinary’ or ‘genderqueer’ or whatever, but they don’t really have a gender? I guess? Yeah.”

She’s rambling, pulling the sleeves of her shirt down so that they wrap around her fingertips in that way she always does when she’s nervous.

Huh. She’s nervous.

He tilts his head. “That makes sense, yeah. Why bring it up? Is it part of your homework?” He can’t help but notice the way her shoulders noticeably relax when he confirms what she’s saying.

“No, but - uh. I think I might be? Nonbinary, I mean?” She curls in on herself, shoulders hunching in towards her chest as if she expects some sort of rejection. One of the layers of her hijab covers her expression.

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, cool. What does this mean, then?” James’ tone is filled with relaxed confusion, and he watches with the tiniest of smiles as Sumaya lights up, breathing in deeply.

“Oh! Yeah, okay.” She cuts herself with a shaky hand wiping itself across her mouth. She starts fidgeting again, pulling at the strings of her scarf and rubbing the skin of her thumb and index fingers together.

“So, uh, maybe different pronouns? I can explain that to you later, hah. And- uh, I’ve been thinking about a new name, maybe? I’m not sure about it, but. Definitely a consideration.” The words fly out of her mouth like spitfire, each one landing in front of him as if she were afraid they’d burn her tongue if she didn’t speak fast enough.

“Huh. Okay. I mean - I get what pronouns are, no need to explain that, but I’m guessing you wouldn’t want to use guy pronouns-”

“He-him. That’s what you’d say.” She replies instantly; it sounds like a reflex. “Sorry.”

James smiles softly. “No need to apologize, love. He-him, okay - so you wouldn’t use that because you don’t… feel like a guy, right?”

Sumaya nods hesitantly.

“But not she-her, either, because you’re not a girl.”

Another nod.

James’ eyes flicker around the room as he considers this, and he misses the shaky breath Sumaya lets out. “Okay. So what pronouns would you use, then? Not ‘it’ or anything like that, right? Because that seems kind of, uhm. Dehumanizing.”

She laughs, just a bit, and her shoulders relax from the subconsciously hunched position they were in before. She pushes the remains of her hijab down so that they rest around her neck. “No,” she corrects with a smile. “That’s only for inanimate objects, I’m pretty sure. I would use they-them, probably.”

“Huh. That’s not… singular, though, is it? Correct me if I’m wrong, obviously, but isn’t that pronoun only used for a group of people?” She - they - laugh.

“Nah, it’s been used as a single-person pronouns since, like, the 1500’s; it just hasn’t really been recognized until recently. You can look up the timeline, it’s actually pretty cool. But, uh. Yeah.”

James scrubs his face with his hands. “Okay. It might take a little while for me to get used to it - feel free to correct me if I fuck up, pardon my French - but thanks for telling me, hun.” He smiles in a way that he hopes is reassuring, and Sumaya lets out a shuddering breath, looking vaguely like they’re about to cry.

“Whoa- whoa, what’s up, love? What’s wrong?” He leans forward in response to grasp one of Sumaya’s hands that lays, stationary, on the table. They shake their head quickly, breathing in another stuttered breath.

“No, I just. Fuck. I’m so happy, I’m sorry, I know it’s dumb, I was just so worried, god, I’m sorry, I’m just so happy,” she they ramble, using their free hand to wipe away the tears threatening to spill from their eyes.

“Aww, love, that’s okay.” He stands up, careful not to dislodge his hand from their tight grip, and walks around the table to envelop her in the tightest hug he can manage.

“I love you,” they whisper.

“I love you too.”

---

harry? (SumayaPotter), luna! (LunaLovegood)

[17:06] harry?: LUNA I DID IT OH MY GOD FUCK

[17:15] luna!: you did what, harry? [17:15] luna!: oh my goodness! congratulations, harry! i’m so proud of you, love.

[17:16] harry?: I CANT BELIEVE I DID IT SLFNEISLNFKESN FUCK [17:16] harry?: I CRIED BUT IT WAS OKAY [17:16] harry?: HES OKAY WITH IT [17:16] harry?: FUCK [17:18] harry?: fuck [17:18] harry?: hes [17:18] harry?: hes okay with it oh my god hes okay with it

[17:20] luna!: <3

everybody but sumaya [longbottom (NevilleLongbottom), parkinson (PansyParkinson), weasley_2 (GinnyWeasley), lovegood (LunaLovegood), weasley_1 (RonWeasley)…]

[17:22] lovegood: hello @everyone ! [17:22] lovegood: i would appreciate it if you all would send your congratulations to sumaya!

[17:23] weasley_1: for what ?

[17:23] lovegood: i’m afraid i can’t say, but rest assured the congratulations are deserved.

[17:23] zabini: bet

blaise (BlaiseZabini), su (SumayaPotter)

[17:23] blaise: yo congrats

[17:23] su: ????? [17:23] su: 4 wht

[17:23] blaise: idk bro just congrats

[17:24] su: ok

tinychild (GinnyWeasley), onlychild (SumayaPotter)

[17:23] tinychild: hey yo congrats on whatever just happened

[17:24] onlychild: ?????? thanks ??????????? [17:24] onlychild: wtf

[17:25] tinychild: i dont know

ibelieveicanfly (SumayaPotter), ibelieveicantouchthesky (NevilleLongbottom)

[17:23] ibelieveicantouchthesky: congratulations!

[17:24] ibelieveicanfly: what the FUCK [17:24] ibelieveicanfly: y r yall congratulating me ???????

[17:24] ibelieveicantouchthesky: i’m not sure, but i’m sure whatever you did was amazing.

[17:25] ibelieveicanfly: csdkjrhoewsdnck okay,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

motherfucker (HermioneGranger), bitchass (SumayaPotter)

[17:23] motherfucker: Hey why did Luna just ask me to congratulate you

[17:25] bitchass: IT WAS HER????? [17:25] bitchass: ofc it was that sweet hoe

luna! (LunaLovegood), harry? (SumayaPotter)

[17:26] harry?: luna

[17:28] luna!: yes, harry?

[17:28] harry?: !!!!!! [17:28] harry?: sry forgot abt that 4 a sec

[17:28] luna!: no need to apologize, harry!

[17:28] harry?: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [17:28] harry?: okay im fine [17:28] harry?: anyway [17:29] harry?: did u ask all of our friends to congratulate me

[17:29] luna!: yes! [17:29] luna!: even if they don’t know why they are congratulating you, i thought it would still be a nice feeling to have them be proud of you. [17:29] luna!: also, it is a nice demonstration of their trust in both me and you, harry. [17:29] luna!: me, because they trusted me enough to know that i was not lying! [17:30] luna!: and you, because i’m sure most of them said something along the lines of “i’m sure whatever you did was worthy of my praise” when you inevitably asked them why they were congratulating you for seemingly no good reason!

[17:31] harry?: omg [17:31] harry?: ilysm [17:31] harry?: god ur fuckin right too jfc [17:31] harry?: u absolute blessing u [17:31] harry?: srsly tho thank you luna tht was rly nice of u

[17:31] luna!: of course! [17:32] luna!: i love you too, harry. <3

---

the Tea TM [f (FredWeasley), g (GeorgeWeasley), s (SumayaPotter)]

[17:25] f: hey broski [17:25] g: hey . hey . hey .

[17:33] s: what

[17:33] g: congrats [17:33] f: also y is everyone congratulating u

[17:34] s: oh [17:34] s: luna told them to

[17:34] g: y tho

[17:34] s: i came out to my dad

[17:34] f: ?

[17:35] s: wait shit

[17:35] g: ur gay?

[17:35] s: no [17:35] s: kinda [17:35] s: its weird [17:35] s: thats not what i told him

[17:35] f: oh [17:35] g: whatd u tell him

[17:36] s: um [17:36] s: shit okay ig im doing this

[17:38] f: no pressure [17:38] g: NOSE pressure

[17:38] s: shut up [17:40] s: do u k what nonbinary means

[17:41] f: oh bet [17:41] g: yea man [17:41] f: uk charlies trans right??

[17:43] s: w h a t

[17:43] g: ya [17:43] f: well agender rly but ye [17:43] g: we all read up on a bunch of gender stuff when he came out [17:43] f: p legit [17:43] g: u got a new name or r u sticking w su

[17:43] s: god thats so wild [17:44] s: oh uh no [17:44] s: uh [17:44] s: harry i think [17:44] s: idk

[f (FredWeasley) changed s (SumayaPotter)’s name to h] [g (GeorgeWeasley) changed h (SumayaPotter)’s name to h]

[17:44] g: goddamnit fred [17:44] f: ;)

[17:46] h: welp

[g (GeorgeWeasley) changed chat name to ‘ mlk but better’]

[17:46] g: get it [17:46] g: bc our names go fgh [17:46] g: and mlk was mlk

[17:46] h: pls stop

#partlycharlie #my fic #hp #g?wis?(t???)#lmao can that be my tag for this #yeehaw

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